The line was dead for a few moments. “Yeah, SEAL. I just got a go-ahead to test the waters. That sedan you were using should still be there. Tell the driver to bring you to Pier 12. He should be able to find it. Bring another set of eyes with you. See you in about an hour. Oh, the terrorists have been talking on the radio again. We tried to triangulate it, but the message came in a quick burst and no time to get a fix. They have given Israel another twenty-four hours to get their military out of the West Bank.”
“We’ll talk. I’ll see you at Pier 12.”
Before Murdock and Lam left for the pier, Don Stroh came in. He was grinning.
“Hey, SEALs, I just got you another week’s vacation with pay for you guys in London Town. The Brits want you to hang around a while and see if there’s anything more you can do to help. They are grabbing at any straws they can right now. Panic is soon to set in. In another twenty-four the story is going to leak to the press. Then all hell is gonna break loose in London.”
Murdock told Stroh about the ships. He remembered Greece.
“Heading out now to look over the pleasure craft from the Arab countries,” Murdock added. “Hope we have some luck.” He looked over at Ed DeWitt, who had just come out of a nap.
“Lieutenant, you have the helm,” Murdock shouted. Ed waved. Murdock and Lam hurried out to the sedan and headed for Pier 12.
London’s waterfront is a massive affair, with miles of piers and wharves and docks. It looked like an impossible job, but Captain Brainridge had his bulldog face on as the twenty-four-foot powerboat slid away from the dock. Also on board was a man who introduced himself as James Anthony.
“This gent is from Scotland Yard,” Brainridge said. “Figured we might need some law authority from time to time, if we find anything worthwhile, or if we get a lot of flack from some of these snobbish, closed, members-only clubs.” He turned the boat back toward shore.
“Have a list of thirty yacht clubs and tie-ups,” Brainridge said. We might just get lucky on one of them. By bringing in the bomb on a small craft, the terrorists would have complete control. They could also use their radio and move from one spot to another.”
Murdock and Lam held on as the captain drove the boat into a large marina where there seemed to be no craft smaller than seventy feet long.
They trolled along, slowly watching boat names on the sterns in the head-in slips. Now and then they had to angle out to miss the larger ships. Only one had a non-English name, and Lam said it was a Greek moniker.
The second and third marinas they went to failed to show any Arabic names. The fourth one was smaller and looked more exclusive. There was a guard at the entrance, and he waved them over. The Scotland Yard man talked to the guard.
“Do you have any transient boats here?”
“A few, but this is private property.”
The Yard man showed a badge. “Anthony of Scotland Yard. We’re looking for a yacht from an Arab country. Have you had any that docked here in the past week or so?”
“This is official?”
“As official as it gets without a warrant, and we are in a rush.”
“Yes, we’ve had one boat from Saudi Arabia. Husband and wife. Nice folks.”
“We’d like to meet them,” Anthony said. “Is their boat here and are they on board?”
Five minutes later the entire crew from the small boat stood on the slip outside the seventy-foot yacht. The owners said hello from the deck and asked what the visitors wanted.
“Ma’am, sir. Anthony of Scotland Yard. We’ve been watching for some illegal and banned material we heard is being brought into the country via pleasure craft such as yours. We don’t have a search warrant, but we assure you that this is a vitally important matter. Could we look around your ship?”
The Saudi man nodded. “Absolutely. We’ll cooperate. We have nothing to hide. Welcome aboard. We’ll show you every nook and cranny and compartment.”
Twenty minutes later the search team was back in its boat heading for a new marina.
They went through four more moorages before they found another Arab yacht.
“It’s Arabic for Sundowner,” Murdock said of the name on the yacht. The search crew tied up and walked up the slip to the side of the yacht. Captain Brainridge called out, “Hello the ship. Permission to come aboard.”
Two men appeared quickly at the rail of the ship, which had its deck four feet above the slip. The men looked down.
“I am Hamdani, boat owner. What do you wish?”
“I’m Inspector Anthony with Scotland Yard. We want to do an inspection of your ship. We’re looking for illegal cargo brought into England.”
“You need the search warrant,” Hamdani said. He was about forty, slender, with a full beard and mustache. His eyes gleamed darkly from under heavy brows.
“Not if I think there is just cause that a crime has been committed and I’m in pursuit of a suspect,” Inspector Anthony said. The Arab scowled. He said something softly in Arabic to the man who stood beside him. Neither one showed a weapon. Then Hamdani looked at Anthony. He spoke rapidly in Arabic then.
“You are a pig, a scoundrel, an asshole of camel shit.” The words in Arabic rolled out and he watched the men in front of him carefully. None showed signs of understanding the words.
Hamdani shrugged and spoke in English. “We do nothing wrong. You must have the search permit.” To the man beside him he said softly in Arabic, “Use the telephone, tell Andwar to leave the slip at once and head for the channel.”
Murdock understood Arabic, and he had followed the words the man had said from the first. He had steeled himself not to react to the insulting line. Now he grabbed for the ankles of the man who was about to leave. The Arab pulled away.
“No,” Murdock said in Arabic. “You will not tell Andwar anything. But you will tell us everything we want to know.”
“That won’t happen,” Hamdani spat. He drew an automatic pistol from his clothing, and at once two Arabs stepped out from behind him on the boat, each holding a submachine gun. Both were pointed directly at Murdock and the search party.
8
“Don’t shoot them yet,” Hamdani told his men in Arabic. He scowled at the four men in front of him. “You have heard too much. You all must come and be our guests on board. In another three or four days it will be over and we will release you. Now, all of you come up the steps and on board.”
Murdock pointed toward the shore. “What about our man right over there with his machine gun trained on your backs?” he asked. The men with the sub guns looked that way.
“Over the side,” Murdock shouted, and he and Lam dove off the slip into the empty slot next to it and stayed underwater. The submachine guns chattered, but the water deflected the bullets upward and they missed the swimmers, who dove deep.
Instinctively, Murdock and Lam both turned and swam underwater to the slip they had been standing on. The solid planks protected them and they could hear what went on above. Their heads came out of the water with a foot to spare below the planks.
A short time later they heard the SAS man and Anthony go on board the yacht. Murdock pointed back where they had left the speedboat, and he and Lam went underwater and swam that way. It was less than fifty yards. They both surfaced about the same time, showing only their eyes. The Arabs had not yet found the speedboat. Murdock remembered that the keys had been left in it in case it had to be moved. He and Lam slid over the side of the craft and crouched low in it. Lam reached out and cast off the two lines; then Murdock started the motor and they raced away from the dock and back into the wide waters of London Port.
Well off the marina, Murdock idled the craft and found the cell phone he had left on board the boat when they had gone to check on the Arab yacht.