"Here are bus tickets and a little money, Mikael," the cleric said. "You will be able to leave the bus station on Haider Road early tomorrow morning. It will take you to Baluchistan Province. After that you will be on your own."
"Shukriya" Mike said.
The cleric laughed. "At least you can express your gratitude in Urdu, Brother Mikael."
"I have picked up a little in the camp."
"Perhaps you will know much more when we meet again, if Allah wills it," Zaid said. "We have something else for you." He handed Mike a chador. This was the wool blanket used by Pakistani men as shawls, coverings, and pillows as the situation might dictate. 'This will keep you more comfortable during the cool nights."
"Allah ikafik anni--may Allah reward you for me," Mike said.
"Perhaps Allah shall," Zaid the cleric said. "Now we will find a place for you to sleep. Do not worry. You will be awakened early enough in the morning to catch your bus."
A wave of fatigue suddenly swept over Mike Assad at the mention of rest and relaxation. Now he could sleep undisturbed for a few hours. Between that and the food he had eaten, he would be in excellent condition for the ordeal ahead.
He felt like a SEAL again.
.
PATROL BOAT 22
INDIAN OCEAN
VICINITY OF 5deg NORTH AND 100deg EAST
1615 HOURS LOCAL
THE Philippine Navy vessel cut through the waves with her throttle set at full speed. She was fast on an interception course with a slow-moving signal on the radarscope. The boat's new skipper, Lieutenant Commander Ferdinand Aguinaldo, knew exactly what vessel the blip on the screen represented. It was the SS Yogyakarta of the Greater Sunda Shipping Line on one of her regular runs across that part of the ocean.
This was more than just a routine mission as far as Aguinaldo was concerned; this was the day he would begin a concentrated program of harassment to avenge the death of his best friend, Commander Carlos Batanza.
"Closing in fast, sir," the radar operator reported. "Estimate visual contact in ten minutes."
Aguinaldo put his binoculars to his eyes and scanned the horizon to the direct front. The waves were placid that day, allowing the patrol boat to attain more than the usual speed. The new skipper spotted the smudge of the target within eight minutes. He considered that a good omen. He picked up the intercom to the radio operator. "Contact the ship on the international frequency and order her to heave to."
"Aye, aye, sir!" The radioman turned to his set and began broadcasting the demand.
The helmsman had plenty of experience in bringing the patrol boat alongside ships, and he gauged both the interception speed and angle accurately. By the time the old freighter was almost stopped, he had the naval craft in position at the accommodation ladder. Aguinaldo, with drawn pistol, led a team of a dozen armed sailors on board the target vessel. They scrambled upward to the main deck. When they arrived, the ship's crew was already opening the hatches in anticipation of a search and seizure. This generally meant the loss of a third to a half of the cargo.
The captain, an old seafarer named Wiranto, seemed confused. "I was not expecting this," he said to Aguinaldo. "Mr. Suhanto told me nothing of the delivery of this cargo being delayed."
"It is not being delayed, Captain," Aguinaldo said. "It is being confiscated."
"But there has been no arrangement for such a thing," Wiranto protested. "I am to deliver this to our customer. That's what Mr. Suhanto told me."
Aguinaldo turned to his senior petty officer. "Organize this tub's crew and begin transporting all cargo over to the patrol boat." He turned back to Wiranto. "Things have changed since Batanza's treacherous murder. We are going to continue to intercept all the arms shipments until Suhanto delivers twenty-five hundred kilos of cocaine to me. Then we will go back to the original agreement."
"I know nothing of Batanza," Wiranto protested. "Are you aware that Mr. Suhanto suffered the amputation of his right hand for betraying the Arabs?"
"I did not know," Aguinaldo said. "Nor do I care. You deliver the message to him. And tell him to inform his Arab colleagues that we are well prepared for any more crude murders. We will be looking out for them."
Wiranto took a deep breath and shuddered. "Sir, you are creating a situation that will cause much trouble for all of us."
"I am only starting to make trouble," Aguilando said.
Wiranto sighed, then turned to his boatswain to issue the necessary orders.
The crew of the Yogyakarta strained with the heavy crates containing various types of small arms and ammunition, passing them up from the hold, then carrying them down to the accommodation ladder to be lowered onto the patrol boat. The job took an hour and a half. When it was finished, the Indonesians were dripping wet with sweat and grimacing from strained back and shoulder muscles.
Aguinaldo and Wiranto looked over the side to see the cargo stacked neatly and properly on the boat's fore and stern decks. "Excellent," the Philippine officer said. "Now lower your lifeboats and man them."
"What?" Wiranto asked.
"I'm not going to give you a lot of time," Aguinaldo warned him. "I am about to send a party belowdecks to open your sea cocks."
"You are going to scuttle my ship?" Wiranto said. "I do not understand this."
"I wish to emphasize to Suhanto and his Arab friends that I mean business," Aguinaldo said. "Now do as I say or I shall further demonstrate my determination by shooting you dead this very moment!" He aimed the pistol between Wiranto's eyes.
The elderly captain turned to his crew. "Abandon ship!"
"Do not forget to mention that little matter of twenty-five hundred kilos of cocaine the next time you see Suhanto" Aguinaldo said with a smile. He gestured to the petty officer. "Send some men below to scuttle this rusty piece of shit."
Chapter 8.
PAKISTAN
ON THE ROAD
5 OCTOBER
1445 HOURS LOCAL
THE bus rumbled down the two-lane dirt highway, swaying badly, as Mike Assad sat hunched on the rear seat. The vehicle was crowded not only with people, but a pair of goats and a sheep were in the center of the aisle along with three cages of live chickens. All men with women were seated in the front seats, while males traveling alone had taken the rear accommodations.
Mike couldn't determine the make of the bus; it seemed to be assembled from two or perhaps three other vehicles. It was gaudily decorated on the outside with colorful swirl and scroll designs painted on in brilliant scarlets, yellows, and blues. Some of the windows were stuck shut, others stuck open, and a couple were missing altogether. The vehicle's shock absorbers were shot to hell, and each lurch and bounce was emphasized with jarring regularity. Mike had eaten a couple of samosas during a rest stop in Kohat, and now the potato-and-chickpea-filled pastries were sitting heavy in his stomach.
The tiresome journey continued with an annoying number of stops at which more people got on than got off, causing the crowding to increase markedly. The dusty, stifling heat inside the bus, combined with the smells of animals, humans, and the exhaust, caused Mike to seriously consider getting off and walking. But he had to travel far and fast if he was to get back to his mission in a timely manner. The sooner it was wrapped up, the sooner he could return to the Naval Amphibious Base in Coronado to renew his real career with Brannigan's Brigands.
.
NORTHWEST FRONTIER PROVINCE
1735 HOURS LOCAL
THE bus had passed through Bannu, moving closer toward the Afghanistan border, when the brakes suddenly squealed, snapping Mike out of a restless nap. He glanced through the dusty window glass, noting they were out in the open country. His attention was diverted to the front of the bus when a policeman suddenly got on board, shouting orders in Urdu. Mike didn't understand the words, but the quick evacuation of the vehicle was a strong indication the passengers had been ordered off.