Death Ship

by Joseph Badal

  Most of the impact had been on the passenger side of the car. The front of the vehicle had collapsed and crushed Mrs. Thurston despite the deployed airbags. Blood poured from her head. Her body was unnaturally twisted. Thurston’s head was bloody but his injuries seemed minor. Although unconscious, his breathing appeared normal.

  Petrovich jerked on the driver side door, but it wouldn’t budge. She removed her service pistol from her shoulder rig and used the butt of the weapon to break away pieces of driver side window glass. Then she reached into the car and pressed three fingers against the side of Thurston’s neck. She detected a strong heartbeat. After she glanced over her shoulder to make certain no one had approached, she used her left hand to pinch Thurston’s nostrils and to cover his mouth. It took less than a minute for him to expire. She huffed out her cheeks and slowly released the air in her lungs. Then she looked for the vehicle’s cup holders. The crash had obliterated them and spewed the contents of the drink containers. The crushed containers had landed between Susan Thurston and the center console. She sighed again as she moved back toward her Crown Vic and dialed a number on her cell.

  “Night Hawk here,” President Andrew Garvin answered on a cell phone he was not supposed to have and which he used only for communications with Petrovich. Night Hawk was his Secret Service code name.

  “It’s done. Car accident.”

  Garvin hung up.

  Andrew Garvin collapsed into his Oval Office desk chair, took a sharp intake of breath, slowly exhaled, and then rubbed his hands on his pants. After almost a half-minute of silence, he removed Thurston’s letter of resignation from his jacket pocket and carried it to the bathroom. He used a match to light a corner of the document and when the flames licked at his fingers, dropped the paper into the toilet and flushed it.

  CHAPTER 56

  “What happened?” Tanya said, as Jack Cole entered the Special Ops Center at Langley.

  “Hired assassin,” Cole answered. He glanced over at Raymond Gallegos and Frank Reynolds when they each reacted.

  “Who hired the guy?” Tanya asked.

  “I have an idea, but no proof. But that’s not what we’re here to talk about. What’s happening in Greece?”

  “I wish we had something definitive to report. The only real lead we have is that a company named Farouki Holdings bought terrorist insurance coverage for a tanker. But until we get the ship’s name, we’re up a creek without a paddle. And even if we learn the ship’s name there’s no guarantee it’s part of a terrorist plot.”

  Cole said, “Sounds as though we assume something is about to happen in Greece. Isn’t that simplistic? I mean, shouldn’t we consider other locations?”

  “We’ve been through that process, boss. The problem is there are too many places to investigate. The Pentagon issued a warning to all of our war ships no matter where they’re located. But they were already on high alert. They can’t do much more to anticipate an attack or to prevent one.”

  “What about the nuclear angle?”

  Tanya nodded at Frank, who said, “Every ship in the fleet has a contingency plan for how it should react to a nuclear attack. That plan would be ineffective if the ship’s anti-missile weapon system didn’t detect the missile launch or couldn’t intercept a missile in time. But it would be highly unlikely for our Phalanx Close-in Weapons Systems to not detect an incoming missile. Its six barrels can fire 75 armor-piercing tungsten Penetrator rounds per second and have an effective range of two point two miles. Also, some of our ships are equipped with various anti-torpedo and chaff systems that provide counter-measure capabilities that can divert or destroy incoming missiles.” Frank paused and then added, “Of course, a missile wouldn’t actually need to strike a ship. If it carried a nuclear payload and its warhead, depending on size, detonated within a couple miles of one of our ships, the crew and the vessel would probably be badly damaged in the blast. Any survivors would be exposed to radiation. And if the burst occurred close to shore, and the wind blew inland, people there would be irradiated as well. Lots of people.”

  “Other delivery methods?” Cole said.

  “Speed boats could be used,” Frank said. “But the CIWS system is also effective against surface targets like speed boats.”

  “We’ve got ships in Piraeus Bay. That’s a very busy port. There must be hundreds of speed boats moving there at any one time.”

  “The weapon’s radar system identifies all craft and highlights those that move toward a ship. At a set distance, the speed boat would be destroyed by the CIWS.”

  Raymond said, “We’ve thought about aircraft being used to attack. But an errant plane would be destroyed in the same way a missile would be dealt with. Plus, we’ve got fighter jets off aircraft carriers circling our fleet positions.”

  “I can think of three other possibilities,” Cole said. “First, someone could smuggle a nuclear device aboard one of our ships. I assume all sorts of provisions and supplies are frequently onloaded.”

  “Yeah,” Tanya said, “but every container is inspected by at least two-man teams.”

  Cole nodded. “What about sabotage from within?”

  Frank shrugged. “I guess a traitor could try to sabotage his ship. But all ammunition and the nuclear power plants on our ships are also under at least two-man control. A saboteur would have to have a confederate.”

  “Lastly, what about a commercial vessel?”

  “We’ve considered that as well,” Frank said. “The problem with a commercial ship is that it moves so slowly, especially inside a harbor. If such a vessel steered toward one of our ships, after a suitable warning, our guns would fire on it. Or, we could fire RIM-7 Sea Sparrow missiles at it. There are so many ways we could take out an enemy ship, commercial or otherwise.”

  “Yeah, but didn’t you just say that a nuclear weapon could do a lot of damage without actually detonating in contact with its target? What if a nuke went off, say, a couple miles away from an oil storage facility?”

  Frank visibly gulped. “That would be bad. Very bad. Not only would the blast destroy the storage facility, but the secondary damage from burning fuel would be devastating. And then there would be the follow-on radiation poisoning. But all of that’s a stretch.”

  “Then how come I’ve got this insecure feeling in my gut?” Cole said.

  CHAPTER 57

  “I talked with Michael earlier today,” Bob told Liz as soon as she returned to their hotel room from a shopping excursion.

  Liz smiled, as she always did when she heard her son’s name. “How is he?”

  “He’s fine, honey.” After a beat, he said, “He’s here in Athens.”

  Her smile grew. “Can we get together?”

  “No. He’s working.”

  Liz’s smile disappeared. She seemed to have finally focused on the grim look on her husband’s face. “What’s wrong?”

  “There’s something going on here. I think we should leave Athens.”

  “What did Michael say?”

  “That Athens isn’t safe.”

  “That’s it?”

  Bob nodded. “That was enough.”

  “You look worried.”

  “I am. For Michael to have said what he did, there’s reason for me to be worried.”

  “I’ll pack up. You call Robbie.”

  While Liz packed their suitcases, Bob called Robbie’s cell. His stomach flip-flopped when he heard the phone’s distinctive musical ring from the adjoining hotel room. Then he heard Miriana’s voice on the phone.

  “Miriana, it’s dad. I was trying to reach Robbie.”

  “He left his phone here. He’s still out with Sofia. What’s wrong? You sound stressed.”

  “We’re leaving Athens.”

  “Why?”

  “I’ll tell you later. Right now, you need to pack your and Robbie’s things.”

  “But—”

  “Just do it, honey. I’ll try to find Robbie in the meantime.”

  Bob called Nick Vangelos. �
�Have you heard from Sofia?” he asked.

  “Are you kidding? Those kids have better things to do than call me. What’s up?”

  “Our plans have changed. We need to leave Athens as soon as possible.”

  Nick paused a long moment and then asked, “Is everything all right?”

  “I can’t talk about it, Nick. We need to leave the city.” After a pause, Bob added, “You do too.”

  “To go where?”

  “I haven’t thought about that yet.”

  “I see,” he finally said. “Would a boat ride out of the city serve your purposes?”

  Bob considered that. “Yes. But I thought the yacht wouldn’t be available until tomorrow.”

  “It won’t be. But we have other craft in our fleet. Nothing as fancy as what I originally planned for you and your family, but adequate to take us away from the city.”

  “That would be good.”

  “You asked about Sofia. Did you try to call Robbie?”

  “Yes. He left his cell phone in his room. Does Sofia have a cell?”

  “She does. Hold on a minute while I try to reach her.”

  “She didn’t answer,” Nick said when he came back on the line. “Probably shut it off or her battery’s dead.”

  “We’ve got to find them as quickly as we can.”

  “Bob, you’ve got me really worried.”

  “I’ll explain what I can when we meet. In the meantime, we’ve got to find the kids. I’ll work on that. How long will it take to get a boat set up to take us out of here?”

  “I have a day-sightseeing boat due back into Piraeus in three hours—7 p.m. Meet me at my Piraeus office then.”

  “Okay, what’s Sofia’s cell number? I’ll try to track her down through the phone.”

  “You can do that?” Before Bob could respond, Nick said, “Forget I asked that. Stupid question.”

  Bob wrote down Sofia’s cell number and then closed the connection with Nick. He tried the girl’s number but didn’t get an answer. After a minute of thought about what to do next, he called Jack Cole’s cell number.

  “Cole.”

  “Jack, it’s Bob.”

  “Hey, Bob, wha—”

  “Jack, I need your help. Liz, Robbie, Miriana and I are in Athens. A little bird told me it would be a good idea to get out of here as soon as possible.”

  “I agree with that little bird. What do you need?”

  “Robbie is off with a friend. He doesn’t have his phone with him. The friend’s phone is either dead, turned off, or ignored. Can you track their location through her phone?”

  “Not if the battery’s dead. But if the battery’s okay and the phone is just turned off, we can detect its GPS. Give me the number. I’ll get our people on it.”

  Bob recited Sofia’s number. “Thanks, Jack. I’m sorry to bother you.”

  “I’ll call you as soon as we get something.”

  If you get something, Bob thought. He thanked Cole again and then paced between his bedroom and the sitting area.

  “Any luck?” Liz asked.

  “Jack’s on it.”

  “We’re almost packed. I guess all we can do is wait.”

  Bob huffed and then said, “I can’t hang around here and do nothing. I’ll take a taxi to the Plaka. That’s where we saw them last. If Jack comes through and they’re still there, maybe I can pick them up.”

  “Bob, Athens has a population of millions. How the hell will you find them? Besides, what if they’re not in the Plaka? What if they went to a beach?”

  “I heard Sofia and Robbie talk about the Acropolis. I know Robbie was excited about going there. I know it’s a long shot, but I can’t do nothing.”

  Liz sighed. “Sometimes that’s the best thing to do.”

  Bob hugged Liz and kissed her cheek. “I can’t change the way I am. It’s way too late for that.” He paused and said, “I’ll call you with updates. If, for some reason, you don’t hear from me, take a taxi to the Vangelos Charters office in Piraeus. You must be there no later than 7.”

  Liz just nodded, but Bob could see the frustration and worry on her face.

  “It’ll be okay,” he said, smiled, kissed her again, and left.

  CHAPTER 58

  Pavlos Ierides checked off the last name on his list. He’d called his wife, three sons, widowed father, two brothers and one sister, and half-a-dozen good friends. His message to all of them had been the same: “You need to get out of Athens as soon as possible. I’ve heard that the city might be the target of a terrorist attack.” Ierides had stretched the truth a bit with that message. No one, including Walter Zeller, had told him that terrorists had targeted Athens. But, as far as he was concerned, Zeller had implied that such an event was in the works.

  At the end of each of his calls, Ierides had said, “Keep this to yourself.”

  But what Ierides couldn’t control was how many conversations would be initiated by the people he called. Or what sort of multiplier effect those conversations would have. By 5:30 p.m., that multiplier had become exponential.

  “What the hell is going on?” the Hellenic Police Commissioner, Alexandros Stamopoulos, shouted at the officer who stood in front of his desk.

  “I have no idea, sir. I thought it was regular rush hour traffic. But it’s worse than usual. And most of it is leaving the city. We have traffic jams in every quadrant of the city.”

  “Bring up the satellite images of the city in the Ops Center,” Stamopoulos ordered. “I’ll join you there in a minute.”

  After the officer left, Stamopoulos called the Minister of Citizen Protection. No one answered.

  Stamopoulos terminated the call and walked to the Operations Center. It took barely a few seconds for him to see the problem. Satellite and pole-mounted camera images of Athens showed every thoroughfare that led from Athens packed with vehicles. Every side street was like a stream that flowed with vehicles that tried to enter the “thoroughfare” rivers. “What the hell!” Stamopoulos muttered.

  He looked around the large room and noted that only a skeleton crew seemed to be present. “Where is everyone?” he shouted.

  One man said, “People left when their shifts ended but no one replaced them. I tried to make a few calls to find out why the evening shift hadn’t arrived but couldn’t get through to anyone.”

  “You mean no one answered their phones?”

  “No, sir. The circuits are overwhelmed with calls. Both the landline and cell tower systems are overloaded.”

  “How about email?”

  “Same thing.”

  Stamopoulos stared at the traffic images on the video screens. Finally, he said, “Turn on the news channels. Maybe they know something.”

  As soon as one of the Athens television stations came up, the people in the Operations Center went deathly quiet. A lusty blonde woman who spoke rapid-fire Greek reported that rumors had circulated around Athens for the last hour or so about a possible terrorist attack on the city.

  “What kind of terrorist attack could cause this panic?” Stamopoulos wondered aloud. “It’s not like store and bank bombings are unusual events in Athens.”

  As though the blonde anchorwoman had heard him, she said, “The rumors have included talk about a possible nuclear event.”

  “Tsoula!” Stamopoulos shouted at the television screen. He knew calling the television anchor a slut was stupid, especially in the presence of subordinates, but it seemed like the thing to do at the moment. He also knew it wouldn’t be long before what few people he had here would bail on him. Nothing like a possible nuclear bomb to scare the crap out of people.

  He turned toward the man who had reported about the overwhelmed telephone systems. “Do our radios work?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Get on the radio and order patrol officers to open up the incoming lanes to Athens for outgoing traffic. There’s nothing we can do to keep people from leaving the city other than setting up roadblocks. But that would probably lead to rioting.” />
  “Assuming the police haven’t already run from the city,” the man said.

  Stamopoulos shook his head. “Yes, there’s that. Maybe at least some of the officers are still here.” Then the Commissioner looked around the room and announced, “I appreciate you all staying at your posts. If you feel you must leave, then do so now. I want to know who I can depend on. Those who stay will be promoted effective immediately.” He watched with satisfaction as only one of the twelve people in the massive Operations Center left.

  “I want reports every five minutes on the situation,” Stamopoulos said. He assigned areas of responsibility to each person in the room: Traffic reports, crime reports, status reports on police availability, status of emergency medical services, status of telephone service, etc.

  One of his officers raised her hand. “Sir, maybe we should close down the television and radio stations. They’re just increasing panic.”

  Stamopoulos nodded a few times and then said, “In another hour, there won’t be anyone left in Athens to watch television, and we don’t want to cut off communications to people. In fact, we will need to communicate with our citizens as we get accurate information. But let’s contact the stations and encourage them to focus on responsible reporting. Let them know that we will be the only accurate source of up-to-date information.”

  “How can we contact them with the phones down?” the woman asked.

  “Keep trying to get through. Sooner or later the call volume will subside. In the meantime, I’m sure the media has police band radios. They’re probably listening in to them right now.” He looked at each of his staff members in turn. “Thanks to all of you.”

  CHAPTER 59

  Raymond Gallegos called Walter Zeller in Berlin early on the evening of Thursday, June 26. “What have you heard from your guy in Greece?”

  “Nothing,” Zeller answered. “I just tried to reach him and got a recorded message that all circuits are busy.”