An MSS agent on an agency junk spots the suspect ship headed for the deep water harbor in Fuzhou and reports to his commander by cell phone.
“Get a tracker on it, but whatever you do, don’t alarm the crew,” the commander orders.
The MSS agent calls for a recreational speedboat. It pulls along the starboard side of the junk, and the agent gets aboard and changes into yachting clothing provided by the driver of the pleasure boat. They cruise around the harbor, always keeping the Fujian Province Carrier in sight. When the ships become increasingly crowded and close as the Fujian Province Carrier approaches the freighter berths, he seizes his chance and has the fast boat pull alongside the aft section of the suspect ship. He reaches out and slaps a limpet GPS tracking device to the hull and then slows down to let the larger ship go ahead. He is not detected.
The slow passage of the Fujian Province Carrier to the docks is noted minute by minute. After weaving around the islands and along the twenty-nine miles of shoreline that twists like silk floss with numerous harbors, it finally stops at east longitude 115°50’ to 120°44’, north latitude 23°31’ to 28°19.’ A PRC naval shore detail identifies it as the ship’s ropes are secured to the moorings. Agents from the U.S. Navy SEALS, the MSS, and the PRC marine commandoes assume a variety of disguises—vacationers, stevedores, policemen, customs agents, etc.—and report on all activity that takes place on the ship. The superior officers of all of those agencies are still uncertain that this is the target ship, and they are reluctant to act in haste for fear of spooking the real kidnappers’ vessel by launching an assault on the wrong one. The waiting game is now a torture.
Chapter Fifteen
July 24, 2020
Brigid O’Hanlon gets her turn to go on deck in the late afternoon. Being in the sunlight is heaven, but the heat and humidity of the crowded Chinese harbor is almost as stifling as it is inside the rank hold. She and three other girls are hurried around the deck to get a bit of exercise but quickly so as to avoid the interest of prying eyes. She downs two bottles of water and eats dried fish and a bowl of rice and vegetables with a guard pushing her to move faster all the time she is wolfing down the food and water ration.
Without letting the guard know that she has seen a passing police officer—at least she presumes that he is a policeman—she throws two full bottles of water onto the dock in front of him. He looks up towards the deck of the Fujian Province Carrier and sees a young Caucasian girl being shoved towards a companionway. In a movement that takes less than a second, the girl gives him a small wave and points to herself.
The policeman is an MSS agent wearing a shore patrol uniform, and he makes the connection that Brigid intends. He is certain beyond any reasonable doubt that the girl is part of the kidnapped American children; or if not, she is a victim of a less publicized but nonetheless equally heinous crime. He tries not to appear to hurry away or to look up at the deck again. When he can no longer see the ship, he uses his smart phone to call in his report.
All of the agents of the PRC and the United States are electrified. This looks to be the target ship, and the possibility of retrieving the girls and of arresting—or killing—the kidnappers and human traffickers seems to be within their grasp. A U.S. frigate and two Chinese navy fast boats move surreptitiously into position behind the Fujian Province Carrier. An MSS agent—Li Ying—joins a line of coolies carrying boxes of fruit and vegetables onto the ship and breaks off to do a little exploring below decks. He has been alerted to the information that the girls may be signaling by tapping out a melody on the steel bulkhead of the hold. All of the agents have memorized the tune, and he is alert in the extreme to listen for it. Coolies and crewmen move quickly along the gangways. With a short space between groups of workers, the MSS agent slides a stethoscope from his jacket and listens. There it is! The tune is unmistakable. The girls are tapping out the melody to Mary, Mother! Shield Us. Li is a Chinese Catholic and recognizes it from his own boyhood. It is imperative that the MSS agent get off the ship and transmit his report. The stethoscope slips back into the pocket of his work jacket, and he turns to follow the last group of coolies making their way to the gangway to leave the ship.
Behind him comes a coarse voice speaking Cantonese, which is unusual in this Mandarin dominant area of China.
“Lei zougun mutyehh [Cantonese: What are you doing]!?”
Li slowly turns and looks back, trying to appear as if he does not understand the foreign language. He merely shrugs.
The speaker is one of the Snakeheads—which is obvious because both arms are covered with characteristic very colorful tattoos. He grips Agent Li’s arm roughly and jerks him backwards. Li has part of a second to see that they are alone in the gangway. Li is a master of Wushu—known as Kung Fu in the United States—and he allows himself to fall backwards more briskly than the Snakehead expects. Agent Li whirls about, surprising the Snakehead, and drives a fatal knife hand blow into the unprotected neck of the criminal. The surprise and the deadliness of the blow is so sudden that nothing but a soft gurgle escapes as sound. Li picks his victim up in a fireman’s carry and runs along the gangway seeking an unlocked door. He locates one on the port side, opens it, and finds exactly what he wants. He is looking into a trash collection area filled with black plastic garbage bags in large metal bins. He slips inside and finds a bag that is only partially filled. He quickly dumps out the garbage, most of which is paper, but there is enough stinking vegetable garbage to coat his hands and jacket front and to make him offensive to be around. Cannot be helped. He stuffs the Snakehead’s body into the bag and hurriedly gathers up the paper trash and jams it in on top of the body. Fortunately, the Snakehead is not a large man, and Agent Li is strong. He lifts the bag and dumps it over the edge of the dumpster and piles several other bags around and over the one containing the corpse.
Li opens a crack in the trash room door. The gangway is still empty. He slips out just in time to fall into line with another group of coolies headed towards the exit gangway to get more boxes to load onto the ship. He is certain that he has not been detected, and he gets away from the work crew as quickly as he can without attracting attention to himself.
Agent Li’s report is the clincher. The American and Chinese agents, marines, and SEALS huddle the rest of the day to plan their nighttime assault on the ship.
Brigid and the rest of the Wednesday’s Girls are worn out from the heat, the dehydration, and the cumulative stress of their captivity. After hours of tapping their spoons on the bulkhead, she signals a rest period. The girls flop down on their futons—which are filthy and flea-ridden from the long days at sea without cleaning. The girls have been so long in the custody of the uncivilized Snakeheads that they have resigned themselves to a life of severe uncleanliness—the polar opposite of their home life back at Saint Anne’s. Even the thought of their spotlessly clean orphanage life brings many of the girls to tears; so, they try not to think overmuch about those apparently long-gone halcyon days. They fall asleep from exhaustion and the ennui of perpetual boredom.
Chapter Sixteen
July 25, 2020
The assault force is made up of the best of the best from two great nations united in a cause all of the men believe deeply. Orders are orders, but the resolve of the men is strengthened into a personal commitment by their core of honor. No one should ever treat a little girl the way these Wednesday’s Girls have been treated. To a man, they are determined to bring every survivor back alive and unhurt. It is 0300 local time, and the night is inky black except for the harbor lights.
Ten PRC marines, four MSS assault agents, four CIA agents, and ten U.S. Navy SEALS are fully dressed in black from the top of their heads to the soles of their feet. They carry an assortment of small arms—guns and knives—and each has flashbang grenades strapped to his waist. They have been cautioned ad nauseum not to use heavier weapons for fear of injuring the girls.
Wang Qinghua, PRC Marine commando captain, has the overall command. He gives a thumb
s-up, and the twenty-eight special forces agents move out in pairs, silently making their way among the shadows along the dock to the Fujian Province Carrier. Navy SEAL PO1 Brock Langford and MSS agent Li Ying throw plastic grappling hooks over the railings of the first deck and climb hand-over-hand to the deck. They throw down four soft nylon ladders to the commandoes waiting below. In three minutes, all twenty-eight men are aboard. Within the next two minutes, three Snakehead sentries are killed by silenced 9 mm handguns, and their bodies are dumped overboard.
Eight men are sent to each of the three decks to handle the crew and the Snakehead security forces who are known to be ferocious fighters. PO1 Langford, Li Ying, and CIA agent Craig Nielson head below decks to the hatch leading into the hold. All is going according to plan.
Suddenly, World War III breaks out starting on the uppermost deck. A pair of Snakeheads providing security for Sister Chi sees the shadowy commandoes, and they open fire. One SEAL goes down with a bullet in his leg, and an MSS agent is killed by a gunshot to the head. Both Snakeheads are killed. Every door on every deck opens, and armed men pour out to join the battle. The commandoes throw smoke and flashbangs at the Snakeheads and armed crewmen of the ship, then fall to the floor where the air and visibility is clearer. Only one PRC commando is hit, and the withering fire coming up from the gangway level cuts down the enemies like corn stalks being mowed by a Nebraska farmer. The commandoes are fully alert and prepared, and they have the element of surprise on their side. They are better organized and have a plan, and the Snakeheads have neither. All but Sister Chi and her lieutenant, Zhuoru Guo Meng, and two other Snakeheads are dead in the ten-minute struggle. Both of her Snakehead guards are seriously wounded. The Chinese and American commandoes have three dead and seven wounded, two of which have serious extremity injuries.
Below decks, as soon as the cacophonous war begins above them, PO1 Langford, Li Ying, and CIA agent Craig Nielson set off the Semtex explosives and blow the hold hatch door off its hinges.
Brigid and the other girls have been awakened by the noise of the battle. They presume that they are going to be killed; but Brigid has each of the terrified girls hold her spoon as a weapon, determined that they will go down fighting. Three figures that look like shadows or ghosts step onto the stairway leading down to the deck of the hold.
Brigid yells, “Let’s go, girls. Fight them until you are dead. They will kill us anyway,” and she bounds up the stairs with all that is left of her very depleted energy.
It would be almost comical to the highly trained and very well-armed commandoes, except that they are aware of the desperation of these brave little girls who are willing to fight to their deaths rather than to surrender to rape and torture that they are sure awaits them if they survive.
CIA agent Nielson wraps his arms around Brigid as she launches her attack into him and protects her from harm.
“Hey, brave little American, we are the police. We are here to take you home. Don’t struggle. No one is going to hurt you anymore.”
It takes a minute or two before Brigid and the others can calm down and allow themselves to be assured that they are truly safe—that they are saved. Then the surviving seventy-two Wednesday’s Girls weep for sheer joy. Although the three hardened commandoes will never admit it to their comrades, each of them cries with overwhelming relief and joy that the girls are on their way to freedom.
In the aftermath, the girls board an Air China 737 and fly back to Newark International Airport and a tumultuous welcome from almost a hundred thousand overjoyed people waiting in the ticket and baggage areas, on the sidewalks, and in the parking areas to show their happiness at the rescue of the sweet children. Throughout Washington, DC, New York City, Interpol headquarters, and in Beijing, agents, detectives, officers, and staffs hold one huge heartfelt celebration for a job well done. There is renewed vigor in seeking out the human traffickers; arrests and convictions jump eighty percent over the next year.
On the personal side of things, DCIA Norcroft and her daughter, Cerisse, and husband, Charles, quietly attend the funerals of the slain commandoes—both in the US and in China—along with McGee and his partners and representatives from all the rest of the organizations united in the NYPD elite Organized Crime Human Trafficking Unit and several other groups around the world fighting the quiet fight to stop the scourge of abuse, slavery, and terror.
Cerisse has fallen in love with the brave girl, Brigid O’Hanlon, and begs her parents to adopt her.
“What could be more fitting for a Wednesday’s Child than that?” she asks. “She needs parents, and I need a sister.”
Cerisse is a force to be reckoned with; so, the Danielses start the process. In all, forty-six boys and girls from Saint Anne’s orphanage are adopted that year; and across the country, adoption of “unadoptables” goes up by a whopping seventy-two percent. The world is aroused on several fronts: the fight against the traffickers intensifies; adoptions increase; and abortions decrease in numbers. Catholics, Mormons, Evangelicals, Muslims, Jews, Buddhists, and atheists unite in one cause: Save the Children.
-The End-
Wednesday’s Child Page 9