He adjusted his radio throat mic and spoke quietly. “This is Zulu. I’m in position, but this sea mist is making visibility diabolical.”
The Q team leader responded in a deep voice. “Delta 1. We’ve not moved. Nor have the locals. Most of us are in position either side of the river, spread out over one mile from north to south. What’s your local doing?”
Will trained his night-vision binoculars on the solitary Polish operative standing two hundred yards away on the opposite side of the river mouth. “Just waiting. Nothing else is happening here aside from the damn port foghorn going off every minute.” He checked his watch. It was nearly 3:00 A.M. The boat should have arrived by now, though no doubt the coastal fog was slowing its progress toward shore. His body tensed. “I’ve got lights out at sea. They’re moving parallel to the coast, east to west.”
“Delta 1: heard. It might be the target vessel. Perhaps it’s following a deep channel until it can turn toward you. Any reaction from your local?”
“Nothing yet. The boat’s changing direction. Looks like it could be turning toward shore. Hold.” Silence. “The local’s pulled something out of his jacket.”
More silence.
Then, “He’s looking through binoculars. He’s standing very still, just watching.” Will’s chest muscles tightened. “Okay, he’s put the binos away. He’s lighting a cigarette. He’s not doing anything else. Wait. I can see it now. It’s not the target. Repeat, not the target. Just a small Maritime Search and Rescue vessel doing a patrol of the harbor.”
“Delta 1: okay.”
Will glanced at the Pole. “Local’s binos are back out. He’s looking out to sea. Moving his head slightly, meaning he hasn’t seen anything yet.”
The foghorn blared.
“The SAR vessel’s slowed right down and has switched on its port searchlight. The local’s motionless. He’s got a cell phone by his head, still looking through his binos. I’d say he’s spotted something.”
“Delta 1. We’ve got one local on Ku Ujsciu on his cell and on the move, walking quickly toward Roberta de Plelo on the east bank of the river. Plus another now moving down Oliwska toward the river’s west bank.”
The rest of the Q team reported that the Polish men they were watching were also moving.
Will’s heart rate increased. “Okay. The locals have been alerted and are taking up formation. All Delta: baseball caps on.” His hand moved to his pistol. “I’ve got different lights out at sea. The SAR’s turning toward them. Its searchlight should pick up something any moment. .” Will saw several more lights, some electric blue, others red. They were spread out, the highest about ten yards above sea level. Then he heard the distinct sound of engines. He waited. The lights came closer, and it was now possible to see glimpses of metal around them. Gradually the ship emerged out of the darkness and fog. “Got it! Cargo ship.”
Delta 1 shot back, “Ship’s name?”
“Hold.”
Nobody else spoke as they waited for Will.
“Searchlight’s fully covering the vessel. The name’s clear. It’s the Paderewski. Repeat, it’s the target!” Will watched the Polish operative. “My guy’s holding something in his hand. He’s walking right up to the seawall. Now he’s leaning against it. He grips the object in two hands.”
The Paderewski was getting closer to shore, coming right toward the local and the river mouth. The SAR moved closer to it until it was out of sight, hidden behind the Paderewski.
Will could feel his pulse throbbing in his temples. “The local’s holding a torch, pointing it toward the target. He gives one, two, three, four, five. . yes, five flashes. .” He looked at the Paderewski. “Nothing yet from the target. . nothing. . now! One, two, three. . four, five, six, seven flashes from the deck.”
“Is the boat slowing down or changing course?” Delta 1 spoke rapidly.
“No, it’s still heading right for the river mouth.”
“Do you think the all-clear signal’s been given?”
“Yes. The Paderewski’s committed to the river entrance. It hasn’t got a turning circle to change course.”
“In that case we’re ready.”
“Hold on, Delta 1.” Will broke into a sprint, moving west to get a line of sight on the SAR. “The SAR vessel’s following the Paderewski.”
Delta 1 responded immediately. “Is it making any attempt to stop the target?”
“No.”
“Is the target aware of the SAR vessel?”
“Must be. The SAR’s barely ten yards behind it. Its searchlight is illuminating the rear half of the boat.”
“This is odd.”
“Agreed!” Will knew that the greatest hazard for any craft around here tonight was in the harbor. The Paderewski was about to enter a river that had urban and transportation lighting on either side of it. It would be safe and of no concern to the SAR vessel. Plus, if it was a routine escort, the SAR would be in front. He felt his stomach churn as he scrutinized the SAR. It was approximately twenty yards long, five yards wide; the distance between deck and water line was less than one yard; speed was eight to ten knots; engine noise was high pitched to medium. “I can’t be certain, but I’d say the SAR vessel is heavy laden.”
“Could that cargo be men?”
“How the hell would I know? But if it is, I’d hazard a guess there are at least ten men in there.”
“Looks like more of our ABW and AW friends are out to play tonight, on board the SAR vessel, making sure that their prize is not attacked from behind.”
“I know that!”
“Do we abort?”
Will’s mind raced fast. “No.”
The Paderewski was now in the river, heading toward Gdansk.
“Delta 1: We’ve got locals bolting northwest toward the oncoming Paderewski, handguns out. Something’s wrong.”
Will watched his local sprinting away from the coast, paralleling the Paderewski. “It’s the SAR vessel that’s wrong. That’s what’s spooked our Polish friends. It’s not carrying ABW or AW men. It must be a team of SVR. They’ve come to assassinate the defector.” Will began running. “All Delta: do not touch the locals. You have a new target and objective. Converge on the SAR vessel and get ready to kill anything inside it. Our priority now is to ensure the ABW and AW men get their defector.”
“Delta 1. The Poles will think we’re hostiles.”
“Damn right.” Will sprinted alongside the river. “But you mustn’t kill any of them.” After two minutes of passing cranes and warehouses adjacent to the river, he called out, “I’m about six hundred yards inland from the river mouth, following the target. The SAR’s right on its tail. I can see the driver in the cabin, no one else.”
“Reckon the SVR’s going to do a hit and run the moment the Paderewski docks and the defector steps off the boat.”
“Where are you?”
“I’m on the west bank of the river. The Paderewski’s just coming into my view, heading toward my position.”
“Is there anywhere around you that the boat could dock?”
“No. I think it’s going to head farther south toward the city, where most of the tourist vessel berths and cargo unloading bays are. But we still can’t discount the possibility that the Paderewski may simply slow down, pull alongside an area of flat land, and allow the defector to jump off.”
“Okay. Move south, ahead of the target. I’ll stay on the boats.”
“Be careful. I’ve got visual of two locals about seven hundred yards south of your position and on the same side of the river as you.”
Will continued running. Ahead of him, the river forked. Between the forks was an island that was one mile long and half a mile wide. “Both vessels are taking the left fork into the Kanal Kaszubski.” Will ran even faster. “Delta 1: that canal travels for one mile before it rejoins the main river. Half your team and I are now completely blind to the target vessels. There are only two bridges to that island: the crossing in the west and the one in the south. Move to the southern road crossing. From there you’ll be able to pick up sight of the Paderewski and SAR and continue to tail them if they keep moving beyond the island, or enter the island if they stop at that location. I’ll take the western crossing onto the island.”