When the grisly task was completed, Brannigan went back inside the cabin with Veronica following. "Okay, Rivers, set a course back to the Dan Daly. It appears we have a report to make. Too bad it has nothing to do with terrorists."
.
USS DAN DALY
1630 HOURS LOCAL
COMMANDER Tom Carey had the damp documents spread out on his desk along with the photographs of the dead crewmen. Bill Brannigan, Jim Cruiser, and Veronica Rivers sat in silence, watching him as he carefully perused the information they had brought back with them. Carey turned to his stand-alone computer and typed in some of the information he was able to glean from the paperwork.
"Okay," he said. "It's all substantiated here and crosschecked by the system. The vessel you discovered was from the Philippine Navy. That's pretty obvious from the dead guys. It is Patrol Boat 22, captained by a Commander Carlos Batanza until his murder. At that point, it was taken over by the exec, a Lieutenant Commander Ferdinand Aguilando."
"The captain was murdered?" Brannigan asked. "Does this have anything to do with our mission out here?"
"Batanza was known to be corrupt," Carey said. "His mission was interdiction of smugglers. For a couple of years he was a real straight arrow, but like many an underpaid public servant, the chance for bribes and outright thievery brought him to ruin. It is thought that his death was a payback for some drug deal gone bad."
"What about an arms deal gone bad?" Cruiser asked.
"Not likely," Carey remarked. "His exec, Aguilando, was also on the take, so he could have been also held responsible for whatever it was the pissed off the bad guys."
"That patrol boat was obviously destroyed by powerfully weaponry," Brannigan said. "I wouldn't think some drug smuggler would be carrying that sort of ordnance. It appears to me that only a terrorist group transporting a cargo of arms would have the capability of delivering that much punishment."
"We know of no terrorist group using warships, Lieutenant Brannigan," Carey said.
"Well," Brannigan conceded, "this probably doesn't have anything to do with us." He stood up and glanced at Cruiser and Veronica. "Going to chow?"
"Yeah," Cruiser said.
"Not me," Veronica replied. "I think dealing with those corpses took away my appetite."
"I'll go with you and Cruiser," Carey said. "I missed lunch."
"Enjoy you chow, guys," Veronica said. "I'm going to my cabin for a snooze."
.
LIEUTENANT Veronica Rivers's lack of appetite wasn't from the Philippine corpses. It was a much more personal condition that took away her desire for food. She was in love again. The object of her affections, Jim Cruiser, hadn't shown any interest in her. They had exchanged smiles when he left the ACV for the raid on the coastline, but he hadn't given any outward signs of interest in her since returning.
She lay down on her rack, staring at the overhead as she endured the sweet misery in silent thought. Most of the time it was futile for a female naval officer to expect a normal romance with a man on her ship. She wouldn't be the kind of woman male naval officers would seek out for romance or sexual pleasure. Too many official and unpleasant consequences could come out of such affairs. When it came to the opposite sex, those guys wanted to get as far away from women in uniform as possible. They'd pass up some attractive, intelligent young female officer to pick up a large-breasted, empty-headed floozy in the officers' club or a bar ashore for whatever sort of romantic or sexual adventure they were looking for. And it didn't do servicewomen much good to pursue civilian males either. Those guys might like to take a military woman to bed once out of curiosity, but they were too intimidated by females who held military rank to seek a long-term relationship.
Petty Officer Frank Gomez had noticed her interest in Jim Cruiser and made a couple of remarks on the ACV to her. She wondered if Jim had become aware of her feelings toward him. If he had, and wasn't responding, then she was in for a long period of enduring unrequited love.
"If I were an aviator," Veronica said aloud to herself, "my call sign would be 'Frustrated Female.'"
.
DHOW NIJM ZARK
15 OCTOBER
1100 HOURS LOCAL
CAPTAIN Bashar Bashir turned to Mike Assad and Hafez Sabah standing on the small quarterdeck with him. Down below, staying close to the railing, were the two ex-baker apprentices Imran and Ayyub, who were in the final agonies of a shared bout of seasickness that was beginning to ebb away.
"See how the American planes only take a quick look at us and fly away?" Bashir said.
Mike Assad felt homesick at the sight of the United States Navy aircraft. "They do not seem interested."
Sabah nodded his agreement. "Not long ago an American boat crew came aboard to inspect the dhow. They examined Captain Bashir's papers and his cargo hold. They found nothing."
Bashir laughed. "It was a good thing we were coming back from delivering arms instead of carrying a cargo. At any rate, they are under the impression we are no more than an innocent merchant vessel."
"Most fortunate," Mike said.
"But our leadership is not going to take any chances," Sabah said. "Even at this moment a plan is being formed to lure the American boat into a trap and sink it."
"It was a strange boat," Bashir said. "It flew over the water at a very fast speed."
"No amount of speed will save it from the wrath Allah will impart on its infidel crew," Sabah said confidently.
"Attamam--excellent!" Mike said, thinking he had to get the word out on this very real danger to a U. S. Navy vessel. His first order of business when they returned to Camp Talata would be to get to his dead-letter drop.
.
MIKE Assad had become a celebrity of the al-Mimkhalif terrorist band after his escape from a supposed period of captivity at the American Embassy in Pakistan. The exploits of his cross-country adventures had been systematically exaggerated with each telling and retelling among the mujahideen. He was no longer thought of as the simple American with more bravado than good sense. Mikael Assad was now regarded as a cunning, clever fighter.
Kumandan, as al-Mimkhalif's field commander, had pulled him from the operational detachment and placed him directly under Hafez Sabah's authority. The American was to work closely with the agent in coordinating the finer details of the group's maritime and smuggling activities. The leader even assigned them the two former apprentice bakers Imran and Ayyub as their personal bodyguards. The two youngsters had been wild with happiness over the honor. When Imran and Ayyub reported to take up their new duties, they swore a solemn mukaddas oath on the Koran that they would willingly give up their lives for Mikael and Sabah.
.
NOW Mike and his companions continued the voyage aboard the old wooden vessel. This was an orientation trip for the American so that he could see firsthand how the arms were passed over to the dhow for delivery to the seer -rendezvous point off the Pakistani coast.
.
1345 HOURS LOCAL
THE lookout clinging to the top of the main mast suddenly shouted out, "Hai hi ahi! The Jakarta dead ahead!"
Mike looked in the direction everyone else did and could see nothing for several moments. Then the shadowy figure of a ship could be sighted on the horizon. As the two vessels drew closer, Mike saw that the stranger was a small freighter. After a few more minutes, he could see the ship was not a particularly smart one. Streaks of rust coursed down from the deck to the waterline and the paint on the hull was faded and peeling.