Politics. Shit!
Every so often, the SEALs were forced to operate in a political environment, something quite different from the sea, air, and land elements which they'd been trained to deal with. Getting SEALs to behave diplomatically, or to follow the rules, or to avoid stepping on toes, was difficult to say the least. Sometimes it was even dangerous.
In October of 1985, members of SEAL Team Six and the Army's Delta Force had been deployed to Sicily in order to carry out an assault on the cruise ship Achille Lauro, which had been commandeered in the eastern Med by four terrorists of the Palestine Liberation Front. A joint plan had been conceived between the assault force and a team of Italian commandos who were also participating. The SEALS would board the cruise ship and take down the terrorists, then allow the Italian team to come in and take the credit, a ploy that had been used several times already by both the SEALs and Delta to keep those units out of the spotlight of media attention.
Before the operation went down, however, the terrorists had surrendered after being promised safe passage by Egypt. Only after the terrorists had gone ashore at Port Said was it learned that they'd murdered one of the passengers, an elderly American confined to a wheelchair, and thrown his body overboard. Despite American protests, the Egyptians allowed the terrorists — together with several PLO negotiators and Abu Abbas, the terrorists' leader who was posing as a negotiator, and four members of Egypt's Force 777 counterterror unit — to board an airliner for a flight to the PLO's international headquarters in Tunisia.
In a swift and determined series of maneuvers, planned and coordinated by Lieutenant Colonel Oliver North at the White House, four F-14 Tomcats off the American carrier U.S.S. Saratoga intercepted the Egyptian airliner and forced it to land at a NATO military airfield at Sigonelia, Sicily, where the SEALs were waiting for them. Moving fast, the SEALs had surrounded the aircraft on the runway, prepared to fight with the terrorists if necessary.
Then a political complication had arisen, Italian carabinieri had appeared, surrounding the SEALs and ordering them to stand down. The Italians were outraged that the Americans had taken military action on their territory; for their part, the SEALs thought that the Italians — who'd caved in to terrorist threats in the past and not always carried through with what they'd promised to do — would let the hijackers escape.
A tense standoff ensued for nearly an hour, with the Italians demanding the release of the airliner's occupants, the SEALs refusing. A radio conversation on a tactical channel overheard by several officials at the scene added a new note of tension. Two SEALs were quietly discussing whether or not to take out the Italians, and how best to go about it. Only when the American Secretary of State received assurances from Rome that the terrorists would be tried for murder did the SEALs — somewhat reluctantly — stand aside and let the carabinieri take charge of the prisoners. Even at that, the SEALs didn't give up the chase entirely. When the terrorists were flown to Rome, two of the SEALs followed close behind in a small plane, claiming engine trouble to enable them to land behind the other plane and maintain surveillance of the carabinieri and their prisoners.
Eventually, the terrorists were tried, though Abu Abbas — the mastermind of the original hijacking operation — had been allowed to walk away by Italian authorities almost as soon as he landed. The murderers received sentences of from fifteen to thirty years; Abu Abbas and two fellow plotters were sentenced to life in prison in absentia… not that anyone expected that they would ever be brought to justice.
SEALs and international politics, Murdock reflected, simply did not mix.
The patrol boat Lindow was secured by lines passed down and slung over bollards rising from the pavement, and a gangplank was dropped over the side. A moment later, a line of six Greek soldiers came filing ashore, along with Roselli, one male prisoner, and a young woman wearing a sailor's dungaree shirt several sizes too large for her. All three were handcuffed with their hands behind their backs, and each was guided down the ramp by a Greek trooper.
"Come on, Captain," Murdock said to Solomos. "What's with the handcuffs?"
"Standard operating procedure, Lieutenant," Solomos said blandly. "All prisoners must be secured for their own protection and the protection of the arresting officers while they are being processed."
"You're not arresting my man, are you?"
"I am. I am arresting all of you. You will be held here in Salonika until my office can make arrangements to turn you over to American naval authorities."
"Aw, damn it all, Captain! How come?"
"Your interference has jeopardized a Greek counterterrorist operation and resulted in the escape of at least one suspect. Further, your activities triggered a gun battle in Salonika harbor, one in which innocent bystanders could have been killed. I will be very happy to see the last of you, Lieutenant."
"That's bullshit, Solomos, and you know it! You people weren't going to do a damned thing about those suspects, and the gun battle started when your damned soldiers charged in with searchlights and sirens!" He didn't mention that sniper shot from the tower that had taken out the gunman. Solomos didn't appear to be including the Delta Force team in his little tirade. Papagos and Brown were standing nearby, under guard but not yet handcuffed. Solomos's people appeared to be ignoring the Delta men still in their tower-top OP.
"We appear to be missing five of your men, Lieutenant," Solomos said. "There were nine of you. Where are the others?"
"Seeing the sights."
"At this hour of the night? I don't think so."
"Then they're bar-hopping. Maybe you should go check some of your local taverns. Or the whorehouses."
"I have a better idea. You may be more willing to discuss things with us in a reasonable manner at the police station." He reached into a back pocket and produced a pair of handcuffs. "Turn around, and place your hands behind you."
Murdock hesitated, as if he didn't quite know what to do, looking from Papagos to Brown to Roselli. Roselli gave him a broad wink, a sign that he, at least, thought things were going well.
Good…
They'd gone over as many of the possibilities as they could think of earlier, while planning this op with Beasley and the Delta people. He'd emphasized to both Roselli and Sterling that they needed at least one of those men off the yacht, no matter what. With all the lights and confusion, Murdock hadn't been able to see clearly what was happening when the patrol boat had drawn alongside the Glaros, but the fact that both Jaybird and one of the suspects were missing was a hopeful sign.
He just hoped Jaybird had indeed managed to carry off his part of things, or this whole show would all be for nothing.
12
"I said turn around! Hands behind you!"
"Oh, very well…" Murdock pivoted, turning his back to Solomos… but then continued the movement, hard and fast, ducking his head and snapping his leg up and around in a reversed roundhouse kick. His foot slammed into the DEA captain's gut, bending him double and lifting his toes clear of the pavement.
"Lochagos!" a soldier shouted, and then Magic's elbow slammed into his face not once but twice, so quickly the movement was a blur. Papagos sidestepped his guard, smashed down on the inside of the man's ankle, and stepped inside the muzzle of his M3 grease gun and snatched it away before the man's finger even reached the trigger. Roselli simply spun and threw a roundhouse kick into his startled guard's face, sending the man flying backward into the water. A second soldier was gaping at Solomos, who was still busily folding himself around Murdock's shoe, and never saw the two lightning kicks that caught him first in the stomach, then in the head.