Dark Hunt: A Ryan Weller Thriller

by Evan Graver

  Ryan turned onto the freeway, and they rode in silence before Emily said, “It’s mind-boggling to think how dangerous the chemicals are that farmers use to grow crops.”

  “And it washes into the lakes and oceans, causing algae blooms and dead zones that kill all living life underwater. I wish they’d put a stop to using all those chemicals on the fields.”

  “Unless you have more money than the farm lobby, you won’t change anything,” she said.

  “You’re right. You know they ship that stuff all over the world? It wouldn’t be hard to turn a ship into a floating bomb with it.”

  “Please tell me you’re joking.”

  “I wish I was,” he said, but he didn’t know how prophetic his words would be.

  Chapter Forty

  The next morning, Ryan parked himself behind Greg’s desk and checked his email. There was a note from Landis telling him Agent Stickney had called, asking for an update.

  Then his email inbox chimed with a message from Ashlee. MarineSat AI had come through with the images of Everglades Explorer.

  He stepped into the small cubical farm and called for Jinks to join him and Emily in Greg’s office. Back at the desk, he read aloud the email Ashlee had written. “‘We tracked your ship on its regular route from Haiti to Puerto Cortés, Honduras. However, it was spoofing the AIS to mask its identity along the way. In Puerto Cortés, it took on a load of cargo and fuel before it headed out. Instead of heading for the next stop on the itinerary, it turned north, and we lost it. There was a gap in the satellite coverage so we couldn’t get the sequential imaging like we did with the earlier voyage. We’re working on finding it now.’”

  “Do they know what cargo they loaded and who the charter party was?” Emily asked. She’d pulled her hair into a ponytail and sat with her long legs crossed at the knee. Ryan kept stealing glances at her. While they’d spent the night at Greg’s house, it hadn’t been together, and that had disappointed him.

  After some Internet research and conversation, she’d retired to Greg’s room, and Ryan had ended up on the back deck alone with a six-pack of Stella Artois, his thoughts, and the mosquitoes. He’d tried to concentrate on the ship and what target they would hit, but his focus always slipped to the beautiful woman in the bedroom. When he’d finally gone to bed, it had taken him a long time to fall asleep as he stewed over thoughts of terrorist ships and reminisced about the wonderful times he and Emily had once shared.

  She looked up from her laptop and caught him staring at her. “What?”

  “Nothing.”

  “Well, stop it. You’re creeping me out.”

  He waggled his eyebrows suggestively, and she shook her head in mock disgust.

  Ryan dialed Ashlee’s extension at DWR headquarters. When she answered, he asked her if she could get the ship’s cargo manifest and security cam footage from the port.

  “I’m working on it now,” she replied. “Can your Homeland guy help if I need it?”

  “I’m sure he can,” Ryan said.

  “Okay. I’ll call you later.”

  While he’d been on the phone, Emily had leaned over his shoulder and started to scroll through the images. Most of them were low resolution photos, showing the ship in Miragoâne and progressing across the Caribbean to Honduras. MarineSat AI had digitally cleaned and enhanced the photos of the ship in port, but they still left a lot to be desired.

  She clicked through the whole batch of twenty-five and ran through them a second time. Ryan liked the feel of her body pressed against his, and her thick blonde mane smelled of lavender and coconut as it fell across his cheek. He wanted to whisk her back to Greg’s house and forget about searching for the freighter.

  Unfortunately, he had to put his amorous plans on hold because they had a job to do. He consoled himself with the thought that there would be plenty of time for loving her when they were done. Then, maybe he could put this life of danger and intrigue behind him and live happily ever after with Mrs. Emily Weller. That has a nice ring to it, he thought.

  Ryan shifted his attention back to the images on the computer, where Emily was looking at the photos from Puerto Cortés. The sequential images showed cranes loading bags and transferring barrels on pallets from the quay. There was a break while the satellite circled the earth, and in the next series of photos, the ship sat beside the fueling dock with a cargo container traversing her Number Two Hold.

  Ryan leaned in close to look at the standard forty-foot container, painted green and streaked with rust. Emily clicked to the next photo, but something caught Ryan’s attention.

  “Go back,” he said.

  She did, and Ryan used the zoom function. “There’s something weird about that container. Look at this section across the top. It looks like there’s a break where there shouldn’t be one.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “I don’t know,” he said, then motioned for Jinks to come over.

  He pushed back from the desk and allowed Jinks to lean in close to the monitor. After a moment of examination, the former SEAL said, “It could be something or it could be nothing.”

  Ryan zoomed in and out on the picture, trying to find distinguishing features about the container. He worked backward and forward in the photo sequence, zooming in and out with each one. Finally, he shook his head. The overhead views made it hard to see anything other than a standard container.

  Ryan leaned back in the chair. For this op, he had to depend on others to do the leg work when he normally put boots on the ground and chased leads himself. This high-tech spy shit was for the birds, but it was how they did things now. Even the CIA had given up using human intelligence and gone almost exclusively to signals intelligence with a basement full of analysts doing exactly what he was doing now, looking at drone and satellite photos. While they still had spies, the agency often used foreign governments or PMCs like Greg’s to run their counterintelligence and black operations.

  “Here’s what we know,” he said. “The ship is heading into the Gulf of Mexico. Let’s get a team together so we can be ready to board her as soon as she’s within the range of your helicopter. We’ll get the ship back for Spataro and catch some pirates. Everything else is conjecture, and we’ve wasted enough time on it.”

  “Roger that, boss,” Jinks said with a grin. “What do you think? Fast rope insertion from a helicopter?”

  “Yeah.” Ryan nodded. “Perfect.”

  Jinks pulled his phone from his pocket on his way out the door and started calling his team, half of which were at the shooting range next door.

  Ryan and Emily ordered lunch. They sat together on the couch while they waited for it to arrive. Eventually, she asked, “Are you going with them?”

  “Not if you don’t want me to.”

  Emily slipped an arm around his and held his hand. “You should go.”

  “What about you?”

  “I’m a big girl. I can handle myself. I can see it in your eyes. You’re jealous.”

  “Yeah, but it’s time to let the other guys lead the way.”

  “Not on this one,” she said. “You’re an EOD tech. If Sadiq has a bomb on board, you’ll need to disarm it.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Yes.” She nodded in affirmation. “I’ve thought about this a lot over the last year. What you and I do isn’t that different. We both chase criminals and put ourselves in danger to help others.” She tried to smile lightheartedly, although she wasn’t all that convincing. “I was angry because your job affected my way of life, and I couldn’t stand not knowing if you were safe.” She squeezed her eyes shut. “I’m sorry, Ryan.”

  “It’s okay.” He could see she was on the verge of crying and he didn’t know what to say, so he put his arm around her.

  “About four months ago, I was on a stakeout with my friend Kaya. She’s a cop with Tampa PD. Her husband is ex-military and now a firefighter. She told me that on any given day, they can walk out the door and never see each other again because
of what they do. She said it makes her love him more.” Emily wiped a tear from her eye and laughed. “So, after that long story, I’m telling you to go do your job, and we’ll make it work.”

  He pulled her close and kissed her forehead. “I love you, babe. We’ll figure it out, I promise.”

  She wiped her cheeks with her hands and stood. At the desk, she blew her nose on a tissue.

  Jinks walked in and tossed a sub sandwich to Ryan, then turned to see Emily’s damp eyes as he passed her a salad bowl. “What did he do now? You want me to kick his ass?”

  Emily smiled. “No, but I’m sending him in the helicopter with your boarding team.”

  “Sweet. All the guys will be here in an hour. We’ll need at least another hour to load out. I’ve got the pilot checking the chopper, and I’ve got gear for you in the back.”

  He sat down beside Ryan and they bumped fists before they opened their sandwiches.

  “Jinks.” When he looked up, Emily continued. “If something happens to him, I’ll kick your ass.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  Ryan was halfway through his Italian sub when his phone rang, and he wiped his hands on a napkin before he picked it up. “Hey, Ashlee. Tell me you have some good news.”

  “It took a little digging because the port’s record system is way out of date, but I found the manifest. I had to match manifests to quay numbers and loading times because the pirates renamed the ship Evergreen Express.”

  “Outstanding, Ash. Can you send it to me?”

  “It should already be in your inbox. You owe me one big wedding present.”

  “I think I saw a toaster on your registry.”

  “I am not amused, Weller.”

  He laughed, then turned serious again. “Did you get a tracking number for the container they loaded?” he asked.

  “There’s one on the manifest.”

  “Can you backtrack it and see where it came from?”

  “That’s not my area of expertise, but I know someone I can farm it out to.”

  “Great, you’re the best, Ashlee. Don’s lucky to have you.”

  She laughed. “Darn right he is, and you still owe me.”

  “Call me when you have something,” he said and hung up without hearing her response.

  The computer chimed with an email. He went to the desk and swiveled the computer to read the screen as he didn’t want to disturb Emily while she ate her salad. He squatted in front of the desk and opened the attached document, a scan of a handwritten bill of lading. It was written in Spanish, but it only took him a minute to translate it.

  “What’s it say?” Emily asked.

  “If I’m reading this right, they loaded ammonium nitrate and diesel fuel in the holds, and the cargo container is labeled as electronic equipment. It says the destination is Santo Domingo.”

  “But we know that’s not right,” she said.

  “The destination isn’t, but the manifest checks out against the photos we have of them loading the cargo.”

  “Did Ashlee say anything about finding the ship’s new track?” Jinks asked.

  “No. I’m sure she’s working on it, along with everything else I’ve asked her to do.”

  “Could we put an alert out on the cruisers’ network?” Emily asked. “Maybe someone will spot the ship and we can get a fix on her.”

  “Most cruisers avoid the shipping lanes at all costs and give a wide berth to any freighters when they’re near them,” Ryan said. “Besides, if they’re spoofing their AIS, the Explorer will show a different name.”

  “It was just a thought.” She was about to take a bite of her salad when her fork stopped halfway to her mouth. “Ryan, do you remember what I read to you about the Grandcamp?”

  “Yeah, it was the ship that exploded at the docks here. Why?”

  “What if Sadiq mixes the diesel with the ammonium nitrate? All he would need is a way to detonate it and he’d have a huge bomb. The amount they loaded on the Explorer is about the same as what the Grandcamp had on her.”

  “That’s the same way that Timothy McVeigh blew up the federal building in Oklahoma City,” Jinks said. “So, if you put this all together, you have an ISIS terrorist on a ship loaded with ammonium nitrate and diesel fuel. This is bad.”

  “What’s his target?” Emily asked.

  Ryan went to a framed map of the Gulf of Mexico and Southern United States that Greg had hung on the wall beside the office door. “Ashlee said the ship turned north. If this is an ISIS terror attack, their most likely target would be a port in the U.S.”

  “If I were planning the operation,” Jinks said. “I would want to hit something that would do maximum damage to the infrastructure.”

  “I agree,” Ryan said

  Jinks typed on his phone and, a moment later, said, “Houston and Miami are the largest ports in the area we’re concerned with.”

  “But that leaves out a bunch of smaller ports,” Emily said. “What about collateral damage? Terrorists like to make a statement and kill lots of people, right? Jinks, what’s the busiest ports for cruise ships?”

  Jinks typed on the phone again. “Port Everglades. It’s the largest in the States, and number three in the world.” He continued reading. “It’s also the largest petroleum and container handling port in Florida.”

  “The Explorer’s home port is Miami,” she added. “So, if it suddenly showed up on radar there, it wouldn’t raise any suspicions.”

  “Don’t ships have to schedule a berth?” Ryan asked.

  Emily snapped her fingers. “If they changed the name to Evergreen Express, maybe they’re using that for their docking date.”

  “But why schedule it?” Jinks asked. “I wouldn’t tell anyone I was coming and just ram the ship right into the port.”

  “If they had a clear dock, they could get closer to the petrol holding tanks and refinery,” Ryan said.

  “How do we check to see if they have a berth scheduled?” Jinks asked.

  Ryan had beat him to the punch and already had his phone to his ear to call Ashlee.

  Emily interrupted him by saying, “Most of the ports list their docking schedules online with ship names, types, scheduled dates, and berthing numbers.”

  Ryan pulled the phone down to end the call, but Ashlee picked up before he could. He told her he’d had a question, but Emily had answered it. Then he asked, “Any luck finding our cargo container?”

  “Not yet, but we found your ship,” Ashlee said. “They strung tarps over the cargo area and built an extension onto the superstructure. The changes threw the guys at MarineSat off, but we’re sure it’s her.”

  “Where’s she at?”

  “She’s heading east, almost to Cuba.”

  Ryan thanked her and relayed the news to Jinks and Emily, who were already at work, searching for further information about the Explorer’s destination. Jinx had moved to take control of Greg’s desktop computer, while Emily tapped away on her laptop. He pulled out his laptop from his briefcase and powered it up.

  Emily grinned at him mischievously. “Since you were busy, you get the Florida Panhandle, Alabama, Georgia, and Louisiana. Jinks is on Texas, and I’m looking at Port Everglades.”

  Ryan groaned. He doubted that Sadiq would target a port on the Redneck Riviera, but he’d been wrong before. While New Orleans was a large facility and handled cargo and oil, the only other place he could think to target along those miles of coast was Ingalls Shipyard in Pascagoula, Mississippi, or the Navy base at Gulfport.

  He found the work tedious. Five minutes into his search and he was ready to quit.

  Then Emily said, “You guys aren’t going to believe this.”

  Chapter Forty-One

  “What?” Jinks and Ryan said in unison.

  “On May twenty-fifth, Port Everglades will host a record eight cruise ships and a reported sixty thousand passengers.”

  “Holy cow,” Jinks said. “That’s a lot of people in one spot.”

  “Not to m
ention the port workers, family members, vacationers, and other people who’ll be part of the collateral damage. It’ll be the largest death toll of any terrorist attack on U.S. soil,” Emily said.

  “Do we need to alert Landis?” Jinks asked. “He did ask to be kept in the loop.”

  “Let’s wait,” Ryan suggested.

  Emily and Jinks both looked at him questioningly.

  “We know the ship is loaded with diesel and fertilizer and it’s not on its regular course. I think we wait for it to get into range of our helicopter and launch our raid.”

  “You’re right,” Jinks said. “In the meantime, let’s collect more data and keep poking the bear.” He sat down behind Greg’s desk once again and surfed through the images of the ship.

  “What are you doing?” Ryan asked when he saw Jinks was forwarding the emails from Ashlee to himself.

  “I want to look at them on my computer. It’s got a bigger screen.”

  Ryan checked his watch. Another half an hour and the rest of the team would arrive at the office. The noise at the gun range had died down. A headache was forming behind his temples. He rubbed them, walked to the team’s work center, and found a cold can of Mountain Dew in the fridge. He leaned against the workbench and glanced around. The area consisted of workbenches, a large gun vault, and gear lockers containing everything from climbing gear to rebreather diving equipment for each man.

  As Trident had expanded, Greg had added doors to the original workspace, so they now had direct access to the gun store and range on one side and to a storefront on the other side, outfitted with lockers, showers, sleeping quarters, a team room, and a small kitchen area.

  After cracking open the soda can, Ryan took a long swig. The yearning for a cigarette was almost overpowering. He pressed the can against his temple.