He was standing a moment later when Falk led them into the control room. Both had dark blue blankets draped over their shoulders and around their bodies; there was no way to transfer from a small boat to a submarine without getting at least a little bit wet.
"Welcome aboard, ladies," he said. "I'm Captain Garrett, commanding officer of the USS Virginia."
"Captain Garrett!" the redhead exclaimed. "I'm Katie Milford. Thank you, thank you for the rescue!"
He grinned. "All I did was provide the bus service, ma'am. It was the SEALs who did the actual rescuing." He glanced at the blonde, who had a dazed expression on her face. Katie was supporting her with an arm around her shoulders. "Is your friend all right?"
"Ginger's been through a rough time, Captain. She'll be fine."
"You've both been through the wringer. Lieutenant Falk will take you down to sick bay, where Dr. Colbert can have a look at you. I'll have them send down more dry clothes."
"Thank you, Captain."
She looked as though she wanted to say something more. "Yes?"
"I told this officer already. There are seven more of us being held back at that island."
"The island. Small Dragon?"
"I think that's what they called it, yes. There's a huge base there, covers the entire island. It has a dock inside a huge room, like a garage a couple of stories tall with sliding doors."
"You were there on the yacht, the Sea Breeze?"
"Yes, sir. A submarine surfaced and hijacked us first. That was… God. I don't know how long ago. Days, though."
"A submarine." He studied her face. "Was it Chinese?"
"I think there was at least one Chinese officer on board, but he wasn't in command. No, the crew was
Arab."
"Arab." That could mean almost anything.
"They kept us locked in a tiny room. They shot poor Mr. Kingsfield when he tried to stop them from taking me and Ginger away. Then they met up with the Al Qahir at sea and we were sent over to the yacht. A day later, we reached that island base. They took the men off the yacht and led them into the complex, somewhere. They kept Ginger and me on the yacht. I didn't know why at the time." She made a bitter face. "I guess I do now."
"I'll want to have a talk with you later. We'll need to know everything you can tell us, everything you remember, about that base, and about your friends. But later. Have the doc check you out, and get some dry clothes, some food, and some rest first. Okay?"
She smiled. "Okay. Thank you, Captain. Again. Come on, Ginger…. "
Garrett watched as Falk led them out of the control room. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught the sailor at the dive plane station nudging the helmsman with a lascivious grin.
"Belay that shit, Simmons," he growled. "Eyes on your station or you're on report!"
"Aye aye, sir!" Simmons yelped, his eyes snapping back to his console so sharply Garrett could almost swear he'd heard them click.
"Our two passengers have been to hell and back. They will be treated with kindness, gentlemanly conduct, and respect, or I'll have the hide of the sorry son of a bitch in question nailed to the Photonics mast as a flag! Am I clear?"
"Clear, sir!"
The word, Garrett thought, would spread… and be more effective than a 1MC announcement.
He returned his attention to the control room monitor. The deck party was casting off Al Qahir, so that the yacht and the submarine didn't risk damage to each other in the heavy seas. The SEALs, all but their CO, would remain on the terrorist yacht for the time being — along with five prisoners taken out of the eighteen men on board, and with Chief Vance and a working party of the Virginia. Al Qahir was taking on water, and the idea was to plug the leak around her starboard shaft and keep her from going to the bottom. As soon as a Navy Sea Stallion could reach them from the Roosevelt, terrorist experts and computer technicians would begin sorting through the small mountain of data stored in the computers on board. At that time, a special boarding party would try to take Al Qahir to port — probably to Manila, which was closest — and begin disassembling her, looking for any useful scrap of data.
Virginia would have to remain in the area until then. The evaluation team would relieve the SEAL VBSS party, which would then return to the Virginia. At the same time, the two rescued women would be transferred to the helicopter and flown back to the Roosevelt. Current ETA for the Sea Stallion was no sooner than 1030 hours — about eight hours from now — and the met boys already were making doubtful noises about that estimate. For this kind of at-sea transfer, the helicopter pilot needed daylight, low winds, and a calm sea. According to the most recent satellite weather report for the region, they would be looking at more rain by dawn, and that might mean Katie and Ginger would be guests on board the Virginia longer than expected.
Garrett decided he would worry about that when the time came. In the meantime, Virginia could submerge in order to take the ASDS back on board. The minisub had limited battery life, and needed to be docked in order to recharge. That maneuver was next on the list, just as soon as Al Qahir was clear, and the last of the deck party on her afterdeck had come below.
Lieutenant Falk returned to the control room. "The ladies have been escorted to sick bay, Captain. Request permission to return to my station."
"Granted, Mr. Falk." Falk was currently standing as JOOD — the junior officer of the deck — which meant partly that he was learning the duties of the OOD, or officer of the deck, and partly that he was on hand to run errands like escorting visitors below to sick bay.
Lieutenant Lanesky was the diving officer of the watch. "Mr. Lanesky. Make all preparations to submerge."
"Make all preparations to submerge, aye aye, sir!"
As the control room crew went back to work, Garrett took another look at the Al Qahir, wallowing uncomfortably in the seas off the Virginia's port stern quarter. The report he'd heard from Halstead mentioned that one of the captured men was Zaki — the al
Qaeda kingpin who might well be in charge of the terrorist operation in the Spratlys. Garrett was going to be very interested in hearing what that debrief had to say.
Garrett needed that last bit of information — plus an interview with the women, if it could be managed— and then he could begin planning the final leg of this op: taking down the Chinese base supporting terror activities in the region, and hunting down and killing a terrorist submarine.
"Skipper?" Jorgensen said, approaching the command chair. "Eng and Weps say the firing system is good to go. All circuits tested out okay."
"It'd better be," Garrett said. "We're going to need it."
It wouldn't be long now.
21
The last shift for the midday meal was over, and, except for the five of them, only the mess crew was left, cleaning up and getting ready for the first supper dogwatch. Because it was the roomiest compartment on board, Garrett had commandeered the area, chasing out a half-dozen off-duty sailors using it as a lounge and posting a sentry at each door.
Katie Milford was present, along with the CIA officer, Jorgensen, and Lieutenant Halstead. Doc Colbert had given Ginger, the other woman, a sedative and was letting her sleep it off in sick bay. Katie's observations on board the terrorist submarine and yacht, however, would be invaluable.