Deadly Cargo: A chilling naval terrorism thriller

by Rich Johnson

  Josh looked up from the monitor “What took eleven hours and eighteen minutes?”

  A weary look crossed Pfister’s face. “Yolanda is what took eleven hours and eighteen minutes, Mr Adams. We don’t send SAR teams into the teeth of a hurricane to chase an EPIRB signal, which may or may not have been set off accidentally. We wait until conditions allow us to initiate the search without undue risk to our personnel or equipment. The patterns of search are designed to give us optimum visual coverage of the ocean surface, but I’ve got to tell you that the sea state is still very boisterous and it doesn’t take much of a wave pattern to hide stuff.”

  “Stuff as big as a container ship?”

  “Mr Adams, did you ever hear of the Edmund Fitzgerald?”

  “Of course,” Josh said. “A big ore-carrying ship that went down in a storm on Lake Superior back in the 70s.”

  “Tenth of November 1975. She was 726 feet overall. Almost as big as Desdemonda. Up until 1971 it was the largest carrier on the Great Lakes. The storm that killed her brought winds that were relatively mild. Averaged 42 knots with gusts a few knots higher. Seas were eight to fifteen feet. Nothing a ship like the Fitzgerald should have been concerned about.”

  “So, how did it happen?”

  “There are a couple of theories. The most accepted one is that some deck hatches were either damaged or left unsecure and they allowed boarding waves to flood the cargo bays. When she got low in the water, she plunged headlong into the trough of a large wave, and as the water came over her decks she couldn’t recover. It took her down in just a matter of a few seconds. Nobody had a chance to escape. All twenty-nine of her crew perished in a heartbeat. Nothing was ever seen of her on the surface, even though there was another ship close by and a search was conducted almost immediately after losing communications.”

  “So what’s the other theory?”

  “It’s somewhat speculative, but research into the cause of catastrophic shipwrecks involving large ships has led to a line of thinking that sometimes a ship can be too big to handle the conditions of a storm. The Edmund Fitzgerald, it is thought by some, had such a long hull that as the waves built up, her bow and stern might have been supported by crests while her midsection span was left insufficiently supported over troughs, and she broke her back.”

  “Just curious, but is there any evidence to support that one?”

  “Since there were no survivors or eyewitnesses, those who believe the broken hull theory cite evidence on the bottom of the lake. Divers eventually went down on the wreck and found that the mid-ship structure had disintegrated and that the stern section came to rest upside down on top of the disintegrated middle portion of the ship. Now, some say that could happen as the bow plunged into the floor of the lake and the cargo shifted forward, shearing off the stern section. But I don’t know. I’m just telling you that strange things can happen in a bad storm, and being in a huge ship does not necessarily guarantee your safety. And that was not an ocean and a relatively small storm, nothing near the strength of a hurricane the size of Yolanda.”

  Josh sat back, having seen enough of the computer monitor. “So what you’re telling me is that we might never find anything of the Desdemonda?”

  The Captain nodded. “Might not. Then again, we might. We wouldn’t have search planes out there if we believed that there was nothing to look for. Perhaps some of the containers on the cargo deck broke free and we can find them.”

  Josh’s eyes brightened. “That’s exactly what we’re looking for. I can’t explain everything, but the container we are after was loaded last, so it was atop the stack on the cargo deck.”

  “Well, there’s certainly a better chance that a container on the cargo deck would be recoverable than one that was in the hold. If the ship broke up and went down fast, she would take to the bottom everything that was inside. But don’t get your hopes up. Some containers float around for years without being located. Others sink, and some lie just below the surface and present a hazard to navigation. There have been tragic accidents in which boats have struck semi-submerged containers and sunk.”

  Josh stood and extended his hand. “Thanks. Please let me know if anything is found. And I need you to keep this quiet. It is a matter of utmost national security.”

  “I understand, Mr Adams,” Pfister shook Josh’s hand and then sat back down as Josh let himself out of the office.

  November 1st – San Blas Islands

  Cadee walked slowly, her feet dragging on the soft sand as the idle wavelets danced around her ankles. Maria Elena chatted brightly, trying to cheer her friend. “Don’t worry, Cadee, we will see each other again. I know we will.”

  Cadee broke into a sob, “I don’t know how that will ever happen. When we sail away from a place, we don’t ever seem to go back again.”

  “Maybe this time it will be different. Maybe your parents will want to come back here sometime.”

  “I don’t think so,” Cadee moaned. “They keep talking about all the places they want to go, but they never talk about going back to places they’ve been.”

  “Well, you must honor your parents. I remember the time my mother and I were sent to get drinking water from the river. I was little, then, and the water was so heavy. My mother never complained about the burden, but I did. We stopped along the trail and she tried to cheer me up. I didn’t want to be cheerful, and I asked her how she could be happy about having to carry such a heavy burden.”

  Cadee stopped walking, wiped her cheeks and looked at Maria Elena curiously. “What did she tell you?”

  A smile crossed Maria Elena’s brown face. “I will never forget it. She told me that each morning when she arose, she decided that she was going to be happy.”

  “Yeah, but what if you’re not happy?” Cadee whined.

  “She told me that being happy is something that comes from inside, not from outside. If we let outside things control our happiness, then we are slaves to those things.”

  “But I don’t want to be happy right now.”

  The little Cuna girl put her arm around her friend’s shoulder. “Then that is your decision?”

  “No. It’s my parents’ fault.”

  “How do you want them to make you happy?”

  “Stay here, so I can be friends with you.”

  “Can we not be friends if we are apart?”

  “Well, sure, but I’ll miss you.”

  “And I will miss you. After you are gone, I will think of the things we did together, and it will bring a smile to my heart.”

  Cadee threw her arms around her friend and sobbed. “Oh, how can you be so strong?”

  Maria Elena hugged Cadee and whispered, “If we are not strong, we do not survive.” She stepped back and held Cadee at arm’s length by the shoulders, and looked at her with moist black eyes. “Let us make a promise that we will be together again someday.”

  “Okay,” Cadee whimpered. “When?”

  “I want to go to college in the United States. I read about the college named Stanford, and that is where I want to go. Maybe we can be room-mates.”

  Cadee wiped her face. “It’ll be ten years before we’re ready for college.”

  “So, in ten years we will be together again. From now until then, we will be friends in our hearts, no matter where we are. We will be bigger then, and more beautiful. The boys will chase us, and maybe we’ll let some of them catch us.”

  The thought made Cadee laugh. “Yeah, that will be fun. By then maybe I’ll be ready to let a boy catch me.”

  “It is good to hear you laugh. There will always be time enough for tears, so we must cherish our moments of laughter.”

  Cadee looked at Maria Elena as if she were seeing a different person. “Who taught you these things?”

  “My mother. Her life has been hard, but not as hard as her mother before her. All the women have passed down the wisdom of their time. I am lucky. I will be the first from my family to be able to go and see the world. I have decided to be hap
py.”

  But Jacob Plover wasn’t happy. He swallowed hard, his mind racing to come up with a way to say what was in his heart, but his mouth was reluctant to form the words. The plastic bow seat felt hard beneath him, and he gripped the stainless steel rail with a white-knuckle death grip. He stared off at the palm trees that lined the beach seventy-five feet across the shallow water from where their boat was anchored. His heart pounded, and he wished it would quit, because he was sure Kirsten could hear it thumping.

  Jacob turned his eyes on Kirsten and saw her head down, her face hidden behind by the cascade of silky blonde hair. More than anything, he wanted to go over and kneel before her and take her hair in his hands and lift her chin and look into her crystal blue eyes and tell her exactly how he felt. But the thought terrified him. What if she laughed at him and told him he was just being silly? He could never live with that. It was easier, he decided, to live with a silent burning for her than to risk the rejection. He turned his face back toward the beach and let the breeze dry his eyes.

  Kirsten sat fourteen feet away, on the opposite bow seat, looking at her hands as she kneaded them in her lap. She looked to be filled with a kind of sadness Jacob had never seen before. He wanted her to know that he was not just another transient sailor’s son who is here today and gone tomorrow. Jacob realized she had taken root deep in his heart, and now the prospect of never seeing her again caused him to breathe deeply to try to calm the ache.

  Kirsten stopped knitting her fingers, drew a deep breath and exhaled quietly, then wiped the palms of her hands on her knees. She tossed back her hair and lifted her gaze toward Jacob.

  The teenagers’ parents were chatting about other things. Smoke rose into the night sky, and the glow from the fire lit a small circle around the two families. “Sven, I’ve got to hand it to you,” Dan smiled as he reached out to take his friend by the hand, “you’ve got yourself a little slice of heaven here.”

  Sven drew Grendel closer to him with his left arm around her shoulder. “Palm trees, pristine beaches and perfect weather all year round don’t make heaven.” He hugged his wife with clear intent.

  “No,” Dan agreed, “but those things don’t hurt, either.”

  Nicole gave him a light punch in the ribs. “Hey, buddy, you know what he’s saying.”

  “I know. And I agree. There is nothing on earth that can replace a loving wife and kids.” Then a boyish smile sneaked across his face. “Of course, a well-trained dog …”

  He winced as Nicole punched him again, this time not so softly. “You are in so much trouble.”

  He chuckled as his arms shot out to embrace Nicole. “Trouble is my middle name.”

  Sven stirred the coals with a stick, sending a fireworks display of sparks skyward. “Well, Mr Dan Trouble Plover, I guess tomorrow is the big day.”

  “Guess it is,” Dan said, a hint of sadness in his voice. “I’m going to miss this place, but we’ve gotta move on.”

  “Why, dad?” Cadee piped up. “If we like a place so much, why leave?”

  Jacob glanced over at Kirsten, then found his voice. “Yeah, dad. I think we’re all happy right here. I know I am.” He blushed, but in the evening darkness nobody noticed. But Kirsten nodded slowly, her own face glowing a little redder than the firelight.

  Nicole came to Dan’s rescue. “Now children …”

  Jacob said it first, but Cadee’s mouth was already open with the same words. “Mom, we’re not children anymore.”

  Nicole’s hands went into the air. “I’m sorry. I truly am. No, you are not children anymore. The last couple of years, you two have grown up to maturity beyond your age. We love you and respect you for who you are. But, we all agreed in the beginning that we wanted to cruise the entire Caribbean. We just barely got through the Panama Canal and stopped here. We haven’t even seen the Caribbean yet, except for this one tiny spot.”

  Cadee raised her hand, in a most mature and controlled manner. “Yes, Cadee,” Nicole said.

  “Well, I, for one, have decided that I’m going to be happy, no matter what.”

  Dan’s eyes focused on his daughter with a hint of suspicion. “Have you been listening to my Earl Nightingale behavior modification tapes again?”

  Cadee’s lips spread into a smile, and she said in her most adult voice, “Actually, my behavior doesn’t need modification. But thanks for asking.”

  “You’re right,” Dan said. “Maybe I should listen to those tapes.”

  Nicole cupped a hand over her mouth to stifle a yawn. “Maybe we ought to turn in, so we can all be rested when we cast off at first light.”

  “I’ll stay and put the fire out,” Sven said.

  Grendel snuggled close to him. “I’ll stay with you.”

  “Me too,” Kirsten said as she leaned against her dad.

  Dan helped Nicole to her feet, and Cadee got up and wiped the sand off her bottom. Jacob sat on the log, saying nothing.

  “Jake,” – Dan nudged him – “you coming?”

  “In a minute.”

  “Well, okay then. Good night you guys,” Dan waved as he and Nicole and Cadee headed for the dinghy.

  Jacob slowly stood, brushed the back of his shorts with both hands, then reached into a pocket and drew out a folded piece of paper. “This is for you,” he choked out the words as he handed the note to Kirsten. Then he turned and ran after his family.

  Kirsten stared at the paper, then lifted her eyes to follow Jacob as he disappeared into the darkness. A hint of dampness filled her eyes as she looked up at her parents, then she rolled the tightly folded note over twice in her hands and stuffed it into a pocket.

  Chapter Twenty-three

  October 31st – Panama

  Josh felt the buzz in his pocket before he heard the soft ring of his cell phone. He flipped the phone open and heard the voice of Captain Pfister. As he listened, he brushed a napkin across his mouth, laid his fork aside, pushed back the chair and waved for the waiter to bring the bill. Just before snapping the phone shut, he said, “I’m on my way. I’ll be there in thirty minutes, ready to fly.”

  The sun was high and bright, and the glare made him squint as he left the restaurant and slipped a pair of sunglasses over his eyes. Across the street was the hotel, and he trotted carefully through traffic to the far curb, then pushed through the glass door and headed for the elevator. There were things he needed from his room – a camera, a voice recorder, a notepad.

  While he gathered his stuff with one hand, he flipped the cell open with the other and dialed the agency to alert Curt Delamo that the Coast Guard had found the Desdemonda. “I don’t know what we’ll find out there. I’m on my way to the Coast Guard station to catch the helo. Soon as I know something more, I’ll get back to you.”

  “Do you need back-up?” Delamo asked.

  “Not unless you are craving some hot tropic nights. This place is sweltering. Besides, there’s a crack Coast Guard team on my six. As soon as I have boots on the deck and see what we’re dealing with, I’ll be back in touch. We might need to prepare a hazmat team, but right now I have no clue. Job one is to locate the container, then I’ll work on job two.”

  “What do the Coasties know? What have you told them?”

  “Absolutely nothing. Captain Klaus Pfister is my contact here. He knows only that this is a matter of highest national security, but I’ve given him none of the details.”

  “Good. I’ve talked to him, as well. He was the one I contacted while you were on your way from Manila. You know the drill. Let the guys backing you up know that you’re looking for one guy in a container and that he might need to be shot dead on your signal. That’s all. Can’t have this info leaking out.”

  Josh had his stuff in hand and closed the door to his room. On the run down the hall toward the elevator, he signed off. “Got it. I’m gone.”

  “Godspeed,” Curt said.

  “Thanks man.” Josh flipped the cell shut and tucked it in his pants pocket, pushed through the lobby door and
hailed a cab.

  Captain Pfister was at the guard gate when the cab arrived. Josh stepped out, paid the cabbie, then he and Pfister walked quickly toward a Coast Guard staff car that was waiting to take them to the airfield. As they approached, the driver snapped a salute, and Pfister returned it, then ducked through the door that was being held open for him. Josh followed, and the door was shut behind him. Finally he had a chance to ask the questions that were circling his mind like buzzards over a wounded beast since receiving the call half an hour earlier. “How did you find the ship? What condition is it in?”

  Pfister held up a hand. “One at a time. First, we didn’t find her. One of the hurricane hunter C-130s passed over her about an hour ago while on routine patrol in the wake of Yolanda. One of the crew was shooting digital aerial photos, and when he reviewed the images, he saw what looked like part of a container ship peeking out from under a cloud band. It was just a corner of the ship, but we had alerted all aircraft to be on the hunt, so he called us immediately.”

  A pleased look crossed Josh’s face. “Good work.”

  “Sometimes we get it right,” Pfister said. “Anyway, we ordered a fly-by and more photos. This is what I’ve got,” he handed a folder to Josh, “these will help answer your second question about her condition. What you see here is all we know so far.”

  Josh opened the folder and pulled out a stack of 8x10 images printed on glossy photo paper. Sent from the computer aboard the C-130 to the computer at the Coast Guard station, they were only minutes older than real-time. “Excellent,” Josh whispered as he flipped through the images. “How far out is she? And how did she get lost from all contact?”