The Aden Effect (24 page)

C. J. was stunned. Her plans couldn't succeed without Maddox. “Bill, you can't do that,” she begged.

“The hell I can't. I made an agreement with the Yemeni government to explore for oil and set up the platforms. We're almost done. They can finish the damned thing. We've already lost too much to continue. Connor, do you agree?”

Stark looked at C. J. “It's not my call, Bill.”

Maddox's look took in both of them. “This isn't Canada, and we're not the same people we were back then. I'm finished.”

C. J. pressed on her upper lip with one finger, furious at Maddox's slip of the tongue in front of the DSS agent. Their common past was none of Golzari's business.

Golzari was intrigued by Maddox's revelation of the relationship between these three seemingly disparate people—the political appointee, the businessman, and the merc. So they had all known each other in Canada. Would that have been about the time of Stark's court-martial? He promised himself another look into the records.

“Let's stick with the matter at hand and not get into ancient history,” C. J. said, trying to get the discussion back on track. “How many people does your firm have out there now, Bill?”

“Nearly three hundred Americans and about a hundred Indian citizens. It's going to take some time to shut down the operations safely and evacuate everyone.”

“How much time can you give me before you evacuate?” she asked.

“Time to do what?”

“To get the Yemenis to help with security out there. At least until you complete the last platforms.”

“What makes you think you can get them to send their boats out against the pirates?” Maddox asked calmly. “They haven't been willing to lift a finger so far.”

“I think I can help with that, Bill,” Stark spoke up. “I've seen what's out there. I might be able to help with the security situation.”

“If I may,” Golzari broke in politely, “perhaps I should be the one handling security. I'm the embassy's RSO.” He looked at Stark. “This isn't part of the commander's job and he doesn't have the expertise required.”

“What do you mean I don't have the expertise, Golzari? I was here years ago before you showed up.”

“Being a merc at sea doesn't count, Commander, especially one who worked for the company in question here. You're a walking conflict of interest.”

“‘Merc'? You're calling me a ‘merc'? Listen, you prick,” Stark's voice shook the walls almost as much as the helicopter that brought him had done.

“‘Prick'? I don't think name-calling is necessary, Commander. Can't we be civilized?” Golzari said rather pompously.

“I don't give a shit about civilized, Golzari . . .”

Spoken like a true barbarian
, thought the agent.

“The ambassador, Mr. Maddox, and I are talking about people we know, about a mission that must succeed, and we sure as hell don't need to include you in this conversation.”

C. J. sat back and allowed the tension to escalate.

“Maybe you would be better off now if you
had
brought me into the conversation, Commander,” Golzari said. “I know security. I've never lost anyone under my charge. Can you say the same? Never. And that includes this morning.”

Stark abruptly stopped his move toward the agent when he heard the last statement.

“What happened this morning?”

C. J. spoke. “I was going to the foreign minister's office and Special Agent Golzari detected and thwarted an attack on me, as I'm sure he'll be happy to explain in a civilized tone. Am I correct, Agent Golzari?”

“Of course, Madam Ambassador.”

Golzari recounted the entire incident, then looked smugly at Stark awaiting the praise and admiration he was sure would follow.

“You suspected an attack, you didn't tell the ambassador,
and
you let her out of the compound?” Stark shouted in response. “What kind of idiot are you? What the hell would have happened if there had been more attackers? Or if you hadn't seen them at all?”

“I wasn't certain an attack was going to take place,” Golzari answered. “You may recall an incident a couple of days ago in which I thought a member of this embassy was about to be attacked and it turned out the individual was
simply being followed by a couple of mercs. Plus, we're a little short-handed here. I had to handle it myself because you were out on a privately owned security ship playing Stephen Decatur and the Barbary Pirates. That was most helpful. You have the thanks of a grateful nation.”

Stark hit Golzari square in the nose with a quick jab, then followed with a left hook, his meaty hands dropping the unsuspecting federal agent.

“You're under arrest for attacking a federal agent,” Golzari said from the floor, hands at his profusely bleeding nose.

“That is enough! Both of you!” C. J.'s scream achieved a pitch a Wagnerian soprano would have envied. “Get up, Agent Golzari. And then have a seat. Everyone sit down,” she ordered as they obeyed like disciplined schoolboys. “Listen to me very closely. As far as I am concerned, Agent Golzari did a fine job today. So did Commander Stark. This is serious business, gentlemen. You will stop this infantile pissing match this instant. We will not fail at this mission. Do I make myself clear?”

C. J. paused until she had nods from Stark and Golzari. “Good. Agent Golzari, I want you to continue your investigation. You will be consulted about security arrangements. Commander Stark, I want you to press the Yemenis to get their boats to sea—now. Mr. Maddox, I'm asking you to plan for evacuation only as a final contingency and to continue working on those platforms until we have an answer one way or the other. Bill, I need you to give me a week on this.”

Before Maddox could answer, Mindy's voice came through the intercom. “Madam Ambassador, Ambassador Gavaskar and Captain Dasgupta just entered the main gate.”

“Thank you,” C. J. said, slamming her palm on the mahogany table. The three subdued men didn't move a muscle. Closing her eyes, she breathed deeply and engaged in a tried-and-true calming ritual. The first few chords of Handel's Concerto Grosso in C Minor flowed into her head. She knew by the second how much time elapsed as she slowed her heart rate and brought herself back from the precipice by reverting to the simple
tock-tock-tock
tempo of the pendulum metronome in her mind as one chord followed another. “Please have them escorted to the conference room, Mindy,” she added softly, “—and bring refreshments for them. We'll be there in a few minutes.” Sumner took a deep breath and opened her eyes. “Well, Bill?” she asked. At his reluctant nod she rose.

“Agent Golzari, have your nose attended to,” she calmly ordered. “Bill and Connor, I need you to join us in case they wish to discuss their citizens working on the oil platforms.”

“Yes, ma'am,” Maddox replied.

“Commander, I'm sorry to ask this of you so soon after last night, but could you quickly change out of that coverall? This will be a short meeting.”

“Aye, ma'am.”

“Ambassador Gavaskar! It's a pleasure to see you again,” C. J. said fifteen minutes later, offering her hand to the Indian ambassador standing in the conference room.

“Thank you, Madam Ambassador,” he said, “it is likewise a pleasure to see you. We were deeply troubled when we heard about the attempt on your life this morning. I believe you have already met my naval attaché, Captain Jayendra Dasgupta?”

Dasgupta bowed.

Stark was struck by the difference between the two Indian men. In fact, Gavasakar and Dasgupta could not have been more different. The ambassador was relatively young—possibly in his early forties—with a smooth, thin face and thick, black hair accentuated by a few stray grays. He was as tall as Stark though not as heavily built. His naval attaché was half a foot shorter, with thinning hair and a lined, weathered face. His uniform showed him to be a surface warfare officer, as Stark had once been.

“My defense attaché, Commander Stark,” C. J. said, motioning to Stark. “You know Mr. Maddox. Shall we sit?” C. J. took her place at the head of the table and placed Stark and Maddox to her right and Gavaskar and Dasgupta to her left.

“We know you are very busy, Madam Ambassador,” Gavaskar said, “but we wish to convey concern about the unfortunate attack on Mr. Maddox's ships as well. We have a warship approaching the Gulf of Aden, but it was too far away to render aid last night. Had we been closer we most certainly would have provided assistance.”

“Thank you, Mr. Ambassador. Your kindness is greatly appreciated by my government.”

“As you of course know, we are also concerned about the pirates. We have citizens working for Mr. Maddox. We know that he has been a good and generous employer, and we have always had a good relationship, but our primary concern must be the safety of our citizens. We must consider options.”

“Would you like to share those options?” C. J. asked with a smile.

“Yes, I would indeed; however, as you are no doubt aware, I require authorization from my government before discussing such confidential matters,” he responded, returning her smile.

She nodded. “I understand.”

“I can say that we value America's friendship . . . particularly when the security of both our nation and yours off Socotra and throughout the region is being challenged.”

“Then, Mr. Ambassador, may I propose that we continue to meet and identify common ground—or common water, as it were—where we can work together to achieve positive ends for both our peoples?”

“We would be pleased.”

A visit to the gym for a light workout might have seemed counterintuitive for most people in his situation, but Connor Stark didn't look at it that way. This place offered a temporary respite from the madness that had surrounded him, or perhaps more accurately had come from him, over the past few days.

The deaths on the
Kirkwall
and the near-death of its captain were never far from his thoughts. As for Golzari, Stark was surprised at himself. He had never been a bully, but his recent behavior made him realize that he wasn't the naval officer he had once been, either—a man who sought to establish peace through strength. C. J. had seen Connor in action in Canada, but that had been a case of justified force to stop terrorists. The attack on Golzari had been an unnecessary act of violence.

Connor considered the high-tech machines dotting the gym, most of which he had no idea how to operate, and opted instead for the free weights along the far wall where two of the younger Marines were doing arm curls with dumbbells. He joined them for small talk, jokes, and a friendly competition on the bench press. They were half his age and accustomed to daily workouts. Stark struggled to match their weights until the previous night and his age finally caught up with him. “I give up, gentlemen. Thanks for letting me join you.” He shook their hands, and they congratulated the “old man” for putting on a good show.

He envied their youth. The injuries his body had sustained in the course of several violent incidents had long ago ended his days as a competitive athlete.
He envied their innocence, too. They were young, still unstoppable, unaware of their limitations. But they were Marines. They would learn about battle and death.