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Authors: Patrick Robinson

Tags: #Fiction, #Thrillers, #General, #War & Military, #Suspense

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BOOK: The Delta Solution
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At this point, the line was opened to Washington and Eugene Marinello was located. Captain Corcoran took the receiver and said, very deliberately, “Eugene, the
Niagara Falls
has been boarded and captured by heavily armed Somali pirates. My first mate is dead, and we are, as you know, unarmed and without escort.”
He looked across to Wolde and requested, “May I tell them our GPS position?”
“Certainly,” he replied. “This is where they are going to deliver the ransom money.”
Captain Corcoran relayed his precise position on the water and then informed the stunned section chief that the commanding officer of the Somali Marines would be in contact in the next half hour.
He did not, of course, know that the Somali mole Yusuf, currently on duty in the Ronald Reagan Building in Washington, had furnished Mohammed Salat with the phone number of the senior US naval officer under whose command the
Niagara Falls
and all USAID ships were designated.
Wolde now ordered Omar Ali and Elmi Ahmed to guard the three Americans while he returned downstairs to the deck. And once there, he walked forward and telephoned Captain Hassan on board the
Mombassa
one mile astern.
“This is Ismael,” he said. “We have captured the
Niagara Falls
. Bouh and Gacal have been killed, but we have complete control of the ship. I am calling Washington in a few moments with our ransom demands. I expect a favorable outcome. Please inform Mr. Salat.”
Captain Hassan was saddened at the loss of his young Somali lookout but extremely pleased the mission was a success so far. “Well done,” he said quietly.
While Wolde returned to the bridge, the
Mombassa
’s master called the private line of Mohammed Salat and relayed the news to him. The stock exchange boss was ever vigilant and summoned his driver to take him immediately to the office, one hundred yards away.
The place was open and doing business. The 20,000 remaining shares in the Somali Marines operation were trading at $20 each, having doubled the moment the
Mombassa
made contact with the target far out to sea. Salat himself had retained 15,000 shares.
Salat wrote down the stock bulletin and ordered a clerk to punch the sentence into the flashing electronic notice board. The crowd of perhaps thirty or forty local “investors,” sensing an important update, surged forward.
They could see Mohammed Salat was there in person, and the Somali Marines’ operation was very topical. In general terms they were aware the
Mombassa
must be within striking range of their target, but they knew no more.
The notice board went dark as earlier bulletins were removed. You could have heard a spear drop as everyone waited. Then the board flashed . . .
SOMALI MARINES CAPTURED THE 18,000-TON UNITED STATES FREIGHTER
NIAGARA FALLS
45 MINUTES AGO. ESTIMATED
$100 MILLION DOLLAR CARGO. TEN MILLION DOLLARS DEMANDED FOR HER RETURN. ENDS BULLETIN.
The roar from the crowd split the hot night air. Trading in the shares caused pandemonium. Salat’s brokers opened at $35–$38: buy at $35, sell at $38. Traders were almost crushed by the stampede to buy. Everyone in the entire country knew the Somali Marines had collected four ransoms in succession—the big one from the Greeks just one month previous.
There was a risk and everyone knew it. Maybe the United States would refuse to pay. But the cargo had a value, so did the huge ship. And the stock market was reflecting pure optimism. The crowd could not possibly hide its elation.
The 20,000 remaining shares were snapped up in thirty minutes. No one was remotely interested in cashing out. Even the tribal elders at the back of the room wore wide smiles, as they contemplated building the new Haradheere School library with their share of the prize money.
All the modern muses of profits, gambling, risk, nerve, and greed, the driving forces that took down Wall Street in the autumn of 2008, were present in this economic outpost on the shores of the Indian Ocean.
But when the rhythmic throb of the chanting began, the sound rose up through the hot, still night air. It sounded like a thousand hours of practice, but it wasn’t. It was spontaneous, and the people slipped into its lilting repetitive beat, stamping their feet, clapping, and smiling.
CHAPTER 2
L
IEUTENANT COMMANDER JAY SOUCHAK’S LISSOME SECRETARY, Mary-Ann McCormac, had a rising edge of incredulity to her voice. “Sir, he says he’s taken command of a US warship and kidnapped the captain at gunpoint and will very probably shoot him sometime in the next twenty minutes. He wants to speak to the boss—and he’s on the private line so I guess he knows something.”
Not many outside callers manage to connect with the office of the chief of United States Naval Operations up on Corridor Seven, right off E-Ring on the fourth floor of the Pentagon. But someone had done so, and with a message so utterly bizarre, it might just be true.
Souchak picked up the telephone. “I am Lieutenant Commander Souchak, executive officer to the CNO of the US Navy. State your name and business real quick.”
The reply came quickly. “I am the senior commanding officer of the Somali Marines Assault Force. One hour ago my troops boarded and captured the USS
Niagara Falls
, five hundred miles off the Somali coast in the Indian Ocean. I am on this telephone for you to inform Admiral Mark Bradfield of the terms I have decided for the return of the ship.”
Jay Souchak’s mind spun. He rammed his hand on the receiver and snapped, “Mary-Ann, hit that computer and pull up the
Niagara Falls
in the Indian Ocean—she’s a fleet auxiliary under civilian command—and get me the name of the captain. And get a trace on this call right now.”
Mary-Ann, sensing real urgency when she heard it, dropped everything and asked the main Pentagon comms center to get a handle on the phone call currently connected to the office of the CNO.
Jay Souchak asked the caller, “Where exactly are you personally?”
Ismael Wolde spoke very slowly. “Sir, I am on the bridge of the
Niagara Falls
. Captain Frederick Corcoran is unharmed, but he is my prisoner with everyone else. We are stationary in the water.”
“Give me your GPS numbers.”
“We are zero point seven-five south, five-two point three-six east.”
“Hurry, Mary-Ann, for Christ’s sake!”
“I’m getting it, sir . . . right now . . .
Niagara Falls
is under the command of Captain Fred Corcoran, Irish-born US citizen. The ship sails under an American flag. “She’s in the Indian Ocean . . . Gimme her GPS numbers.”
“This computer is fifteen minutes out of date: Last reading was zero point seven-five south. Five-two point three-six.”
Given that the ship was apparently dead in the water, Jay Souchak knew instantly this was real, so long as the call was not incoming from anywhere in the US.
“
MARY-ANN!
” he yelled, “Find the boss right away and patch him through to my private line.”
“Sir, the call is coming from outside the US—
wait!
They’re saying India, no—
WAIT—
they changed that to East Africa—it’s a cell—they have a frequency line—satellite—they just asked the Brits to help via Cyprus.”
“Where’s the boss?”
“He’s in with the chairman. He’ll be on the line right away.”
Jay Souchak knew he needed to keep the caller on the line. “Do you have specific terms for the release of the ship?”
“Very definitely,” replied Wolde. “But I am instructed to use this phone number and to speak to Admiral Mark Bradfield in person.”
Lieutenant Commander Souchak, a former XO in an Arleigh Burke Class guided missile destroyer in Gulf War II, tried to imagine the scene on the bridge of the
Niagara Falls
. Questions ranged through his mind:
Had there been a firefight? Was anyone injured? Or worse, dead? Would the ship still run?
Mary-Ann called from the next room: “Sir, they’re saying definitely East Africa on that call, but the satellite connection is not good. Also, did you know the
Niagara
was an ex–combat support ship, and it’s on an aid mission to Somalia?”
“Why would you seize an aid ship heading for your own country?” Jay Souchak asked Wolde.
“Sir, that is my business. Please put Admiral Bradfield on this line.”
“Admiral,” snapped Souchak, “it is after 6:00 p.m. here in Washington, and the admiral attends a conference every evening at this time. I have located him and we will not keep you long.”
“Then tell him to move fast,” replied Wolde. “Because you may force me to shoot someone else.”
“What do you mean someone else?” demanded Souchak. “Who have you already shot?”
“I believe you call it the fortunes of war,” said Wolde. “Please put Admiral Bradfield on the line.”
At which point the CNO came on the private line in the outer office and said crisply, “Okay, Jay, what’s happening?”
“Sir, I have a fucking Somali pirate on the other line, and he says he’s boarded and captured a United States aid ship, the
Niagara Falls
, under civilian command and would like to discuss terms for her release with you personally.”
“How the hell did he get this number?”
“Darned good question, sir. I’ve checked him out. He’s not only waiting, he’s genuine. There’s no point in my talking to him further. He has terms to offer but only to you. You want the call patched through to the conference room on the second floor?”
“Good idea, Jay. Then get down here and bring Mary-Ann. This might get very complicated. Gimme half a minute.”
Ismael Wolde connected with the head of the United States Navy exactly five minutes after he dialled the number Yusuf had provided.
“Sir,” he said, “my assault troops have taken command of the
Niagara Falls
. Captain Corcoran and his crew are my prisoners. And so is the ship, which I understand contains many millions of dollars in cargo, such as food, medication, and shelters.
“My price for the return of all this is 10 million US dollars. Payable in cash, at sea, delivered by air. At that point my troops and I will evacuate the
Niagara Falls
, and she will be free to continue her voyage with little harm done.”
“You sound like an experienced man,” replied Admiral Bradfield. “And thus you must be aware that the United States Navy does not, will not, under any circumstances, negotiate with pirates.”
“Of course, that is a matter for you to decide,” said Wolde. “However, there are just a few points I should make. I have already negotiated a very good price for half the cargo to my own government. I am proposing to sell the other half to the Ethiopian government. And because there is some urgency with refrigeration, I will need to move swiftly.”
“What about the ship?” snapped Admiral Bradfield.
“We shall of course keep that, and if you do not wish to negotiate, we will have little choice but to execute the crew. We will not do that immediately, since there is the possibility of ransoms being paid through families and other connections. We are businessmen. And, as you probably realize, we do have something quite valuable to sell.”
“I cannot make any decisions without conferring with my superiors,” said Mark Bradfield. “I am thus going to suggest you call again in one hour and I will give you the official position of the US Navy.”
“Okay, admiral,” said Wolde. “I’ll be back. But I should warn you, if you refuse any negotiations, we shall execute your officer called Rick Barnwell, followed by a seaman named Jimmy Tevez. The remainder on the crew will be taken into captivity on the mainland. For now.”
Lieutenant Commander Souchak and Mary-Ann arrived at the conference room doorway and the CNO signalled them to come in. The secretary plugged in a laptop and pulled up the latest data.
“
Niagara Falls
is an ex—US Navy combat storeship,” she said, “and she’s now under civilian command for the USAID agency.”
“So she’s not under our control anymore?” asked Admiral Bradfield.
“No,” replied Jay Souchak. “But she’s under a kind of USAID permanent charter, which is as much US government as we are. And that shuts off our option to negotiate, unless someone wants to change policy real quick.”
“Hmmmm,” muttered Mark Bradfield, “there are some unusual circumstances here. First off, we got a left-wing president, and his concern
will be the huddled masses in Somalia, starving kids with no food, water, or shelter. That’s going to pull a lot of weight with him.”
“Okay,” said Jay. “And he just might say we got $100 million worth of aid in that ship, and for Christ’s sake give these bastards what they want to free it up and save a lot of totally innocent people.”
“Also we need to think about that ship. She’s a big and very useful freighter.”
“Not to mention the captain and the crew,” added Jay.
“It says here that
Niagara Falls
was unarmed,” said Mary-Ann. “And I guess these Somali Marines were all carrying machine guns.”
BOOK: The Delta Solution
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