Deadly Cargo: A chilling naval terrorism thriller

by Rich Johnson

  Dan and Nicole exchanged anxious glances. “A Muslim extremist,” Dan whispered. “He’s no pirate or drug-dealer. He’s a terrorist!”

  Nicole finished his thought. “Guys like him are suicide bombers. They’re not afraid to die, in fact, they’re looking forward to it. They expect a big reward in heaven if they die in battle. He’s got nothing to lose, and that makes him incredibly dangerous.”

  All three of them looked through the forward cabin window toward the bow. Husam al Din was kneeling on his prayer rug, facing east. “What are we going to do?” Jacob asked.

  “Take him to Miami,” Dan said. “My first priority is to keep my family alive. Anything we do to make him think we’re working against him will put you guys in jeopardy.”

  “But,” Jacob argued, “if he’s a terrorist, we can’t deliver him to Miami. Personally, I’d rather die than help him kill other Americans.”

  Dan placed a hand on his son’s shoulder. “You have the heart of a hero, you know that?” He turned to Nicole. “Eventually we’ve got to feed him. Do we have any poison onboard?”

  She wagged her head. “Sorry, but I neglected to bring the cyanide. Besides, if that guy has any brains at all, he’ll make me sample the food on his plate before he eats it.”

  “I don’t know how much of a terrorist he can be. I checked out his duffel bag while he slept. All he’s got in there is some clothing, his dagger and one of those nice metal flashlights.”

  “Maybe he’s part of a bigger operation and he’s just trying to sneak into Miami to join the rest of his group,” Nicole said.

  “Could be. But I gave him my word that we wouldn’t try to stop him from reaching Miami. I think I convinced him that he can trust me. That’s the only reason he’s letting us be free to move around the boat. I don’t know what to do.”

  Nicole wrapped her arms around Dan and Jacob. “We’ll think of something.”

  Chapter Forty-one

  The satellite phone rang and Josh lifted it to his ear and listened to Curt Delamo.

  “Dan and Nicole Plover, ran the Plover Clinic for the Hearing Impaired in Lynnwood, just north of Seattle. He’s 43, she’s 39. Two and a half years ago, they left the clinic in the care of a partner and embarked on a voyage down the west coast, through the Panama Canal and into the Caribbean. After doing the Caribbean for a year, they were going to turn around and head back home.

  “The kids, Jacob age 17 and Cadee age 11, are being home schooled through the Viceroy System. Bright kids, from what I see of their grades. Their boat is a 2004 Gemini 105Mc catamaran, thirty-four feet long, fourteen feet wide, and draws eighteen inches with the centerboards up or six feet with them down. She’s white with black trim, the mast height is forty-six feet above the water. Power is a single 27-horsepower Westerbeke diesel married to a Sillette Sonic Drive leg.

  “Cruising speed is about seven and a half knots. Fuel capacity is thirty-six gallons divided into two tanks, giving a practical range of 250-plus miles, depending on conditions. Of course, they might be carrying extra fuel in jerry cans. That’s typical of cruising sailors. After this call, I’ll satellite e-mail a floor plan and manufacturer photos, along with the specs.”

  “Speaking of satellites, how are we coming with a satellite image so we can find that red and black runabout?”

  “We’re moving the bird into position right now. I’m thinking that within half an hour you should be able to receive a tracking image that’s clear enough to read the name on the boat.”

  “Once we find her, I’m going to need a way to stop her.”

  “Now that Yolanda’s out of the way, we’ve got a carrier moving down into the Yucatan Channel. I’ll send a long-range chopper for you. There’s plenty of firepower on the flattop to stop that runabout.”

  “I’m not sure we want to do that. I want to take Husam al Din alive.”

  “For interrogation?”

  “Exactly. He’s a resource. He may not know who killed Rashid Singh and Alicia Gomez, but he knows other terrorists in al-Qaeda, and who knows where it will lead. We have ways to get that information, and it’s a waste to let it slip away by blowing him off the planet.”

  “We need to get our hands on the weapon, too,” Curt added.

  “You read my mind. After what I saw on San Luis Miguel—”

  “What’s your plan?”

  “I’m still working on it. But I need to have you ship me a replacement Glock 26. Mine was destroyed in a Zodiac fire.”

  “What?”

  “Story for another time, but I don’t want to go in without at least a little firepower. Right now, I’ll get off the line and wait for the e-mail and the satellite tracking image.”

  After disconnecting from the call, Josh pulled out his laptop computer and strung a Firewire cable to the satellite phone. Moments later, the e-mail came through and Josh pored over the drawings, photos and specifications while waiting for the satellite images.

  He didn’t have to wait long, as a flashing icon notified him of the link. He worked through the menu and suddenly a photo appeared on the monitor. It was a wide overview of the ocean covering a distance of more than a hundred miles to the north of San Luis Miguel. He called up a menu and increased the target selectivity. Several small squares popped onto the screen, each indicating that the satellite was detecting something other than water. Most were far to the east, not the direction he was expecting the red and black boat to head if Husam al Din were trying to get to Miami by the quickest route.

  One by one, he selected the squares and zoomed in. When he pulled up the fifth one at a distance of nearly eighty miles and due north of San Luis Miguel, he whispered “Bingo!” and ran the image up to maximum zoom. The high-resolution digital image gave him a clear view of the boat. It appeared to be dead in the water and there was nobody visible in the cockpit or on deck. Switching to infrared mode, he scanned the boat for a heat signature that would indicate someone in the cabin below deck. Nothing. So, what’s an empty boat doing in the middle of nowhere? Especially this boat?

  Working fast, he commanded the computer to give him a latitude and longitude, and the numbers came up on the screen. Then he looked at his watch and worked a calculation backward. If the Plovers escaped at 0300 and sailed north at seven and a half knots, and if Husam al Din made his escape the next morning when the pirates opened the container … hmmm. It’s possible. With this boat sitting here empty, it’s possible.

  He turned back to the satellite image and shifted the view one quadrant to the north. With an increase of selectivity, a scattering of small squares appeared, and he started the process again, examining each hit, one at a time. There were no catamarans fitting the profile, so he shifted the satellite view another hundred miles north and began again. This time, there was a hit. Near the top of the screen, in the open waters of the Gulf of Mexico, a catamaran was sailing northeast, and it looked identical to the overhead photo Curt had sent him. He zoomed in to maximum, angled the view and read the name, Whisper, on the starboard hull. Right boat, wrong place, if they were heading to Rio Dulce.

  At NIA headquarters, Curt answered the phone and listened as Josh explained. “I found Whisper. Husam al Din must be aboard because the Plovers were supposedly heading to Guatemala, and now they’re 200 miles north of where they should be. They’re already north of the Yucatan Peninsula and are heading northeast. They’re making good time toward Miami.”

  “Got a plan?”

  “We can’t risk showing our hand. If we show up in force, Husam al Din is just crazy enough to activate his device, kill himself and the Plovers and anybody else who is around. I’ve got to get on Whisper. If I can take Husam al Din alive and get the device before he activates it—”

  Curt cut him off before he could finish his sentence. “What do you need?”

  “Send an Apache chopper for me, and I’ll meet it halfway. I’ll have the Coast Guard HH-65 Dolphin lower me onto the runabout by cable. The Apache’s fast, so have it pick me up there an
d take me to the carrier. Then I’m going to need to borrow a Needlefish two-man sub and one guy to operate it.”

  “The Navy doesn’t operate Needlefish yet. It’s still experimental. There won’t be one on the carrier.”

  “Well, I need one. It’s light enough to be slung below a MH-53E Sea Dragon chopper for deployment. Where can you get one?”

  “Let’s see,” Curt thought out loud, “I’ll call Pensacola Underwater Experiment Station.”

  “Have it delivered to the carrier as fast as you can. And while you’re at it, I need a new set of clothes. These Coast Guard duds remind me too much of the military. There’s stuff in my locker.”

  “What happened to your clothes?”

  “I burned them along with my Glock in the Zodiac.”

  “I can hardly wait to hear the rest of that story.”

  “Later. We’re running out of time, and I’ve only got one chance.”

  Chapter Forty-two

  “Where is the little girl?” Husam al Din took the plate of food from Nicole, sat at the dinette table and shoveled food into his mouth. He fed himself with his hands, and bits of food caught in his beard. To Nicole, his piggish manners were disgusting, but he didn’t seem to notice, or if he noticed he didn’t seem to mind. He was hungry and here was food. That was all that mattered.

  “Why do you want to know?” Nicole’s eyes couldn’t hide the contempt she felt for him.

  “Perhaps I just want to know that your husband has not thrown her overboard.” He flashed a cruel smile. Then he lowered his eyebrows and scowled. “If I want her, you cannot hide her from me.”

  “You stay away from her.” Nicole slammed a plastic cup on the table, bouncing his food from his plate. “She has done nothing to you.”

  He was enjoying the control he had over Nicole’s emotions. “Take my word for it, girls grow up and disappoint their parents. You might as well let me kill her now, before she dishonors your family.”

  “Listen, mister,” Dan came through the companionway door from the cockpit where he had heard the conversation, “if you want to get to Miami, you better shut up and stop talking like that. I won’t have it.”

  “You won’t have it?” Husam al Din rose from his seat. “There is very little you can do about it.”

  Without a word of argument, Dan spun around and went out to the cockpit, released the genoa sheet and grabbed the furling line and hauled it in hand over hand. Then he vaulted to the cabin roof and went to the mast, released the main halyard and let the sail fall into the lazy jacks. The boat glided to a stop. He jumped down from the side deck and faced Husam al Din, who had come into the cockpit to see what was going on. “You told me you don’t know how to handle a sailboat. Well, now you either apologize to my family and then shut your mouth, or I won’t take you another mile. Nobody’s going anywhere.”

  Shick … Dan heard the sound of the dagger coming out of its sheath before he saw it. The bearded man lowered his head like a crazed dog about to charge and held the knife out to one side, carving little circles in the air with the point. Through the open doorway, Dan flashed a hand signal to Nicole, but to Husam al Din, it looked like nothing but the quivering hand of a frightened man.

  Nicole raced down the steps into the starboard hull, pushed open Cadee’s cabin door and gathered her daughter into her arms, then fled to the forward cabin where Jacob was resting. “We go now,” she whispered.

  Husam al Din swung the blade back and forth as he slowly approached Dan. “I will not apologize, but neither will I kill you. I will injure you only enough that you can still run the boat, but by the time I am finished with you, you will lose your desire to disobey me.”

  Dan backed away, stepping up onto the rear deck where the davits held the dinghy over the transom. From his position, he saw the forward hatch open and Cadee climb out onto the forward deck. “I will not have you abuse my family anymore,” he said as he reached for the davit line and released it from its cleat and held it in a tight grip.

  He glanced forward and could see Jacob on deck now, taking the ditch bag from Nicole as she climbed through the hatch. With quick steps, Dan scrambled to the other davit and released the line, then opened his fist and the dinghy dropped into the water. Husam al Din lunged, but Dan stepped back and fell into the water next to the dinghy, leaving his captor standing alone in the cockpit, waving the dagger at nobody.

  Three splashes from the front of the boat told Dan that his family had gotten safely away and abandoned ship. He grabbed the dinghy rope, jammed it in his teeth and towed the small boat behind as he swam away from the catamaran. Fifty feet from the Whisper, the family came together and he helped boost Cadee into their 10-foot Walker Bay sailing dinghy. Nicole swung the waterproof ditch bag into the small boat, and Dan helped lift her over the side. Jacob climbed aboard next and Dan followed.

  “You cannot leave me here,” Husam al Din screamed from the cockpit.

  “Tough luck, buddy,” Dan yelled back, as he and Jacob rigged up the mast and sail. “I told you not to mess with my family.”

  A few minutes later, the breeze filled the sail and the dinghy moved away smartly. “Now what?” Nicole asked.

  Dan squinted into the sun, held one hand above his eyes and pointed with the other. “I’ve always wanted to sail to Cuba. Can’t quite see it from here, but according to my last chart entry, it’s over there about sixty miles or so.”

  “We can’t go to Cuba, dad,” Cadee said. “It’s against the law. Won’t we get in trouble?”

  Dan heaved a sigh. “Look around, sweetheart. We’re already in trouble.”

  Chapter Forty-three

  Beneath his feet, the aircraft carrier felt like a steel building on solid ground compared with the cutter Josh had been on for the past couple of days. He stared into the screen of his laptop and studied the dim night satellite image of the Whisper. During the time it took for him to be flown to the runabout and dropped by wire so he could transfer to the fast attack helicopter for his flight to the carrier, he wasn’t able to keep an eye on the progress of the catamaran. And now, strangely, it stopped moving, except for a bit of drift on the current. The infrared scan indicated only one person onboard, and that worried him. He had no doubt that it was Husam al Din, as he watched his target go to the foredeck, spread a prayer rug and kneel. Josh wondered what this madman had done with the Plover family.

  His phone rang. It was Curt. “The Needlefish will be on deck in three hours.” Josh checked his watch. “Emile Nunez is your pilot. He’s the best there is with this little sub. He can thread the eye of a needle.”

  “Well,” Josh answered, “if he can thread the space between the hulls of a catamaran in the pitch dark of 0130, that’s all I ask. My plan is to rig it under a chopper and drop in ten miles from the catamaran, so the sound of the rotors won’t alert Husam al Din. We’ll make the final approach at periscope depth.”

  “And just what is your plan once you’re aboard? You can’t wear a hazmat suit in that sub. There’s barely room to inhale.”

  “Yeah, well, I’ll just have to wing it, I guess. Have you seen Susan?”

  “Only briefly. She’s on leave for the next little while.”

  “How is she doing?”

  “Ummm.” Curt sounded as if he didn’t want to talk about it.

  “Curt, you there?”

  “I’m here. I just think it’s better for you to decide that for yourself after you get back.”

  Chapter Forty-four

  Under a black overcast sky, the Sikorsky MH-53E Sea Dragon helicopter lowered the Needlefish sub into the water without so much as a splash, and the four cable attachments disengaged. The trip from the carrier reminded Josh of an extreme ride at Six Flags, except they didn’t get upside down. Emile Nunez switched on the intercom and asked, “All set?”

  “I’m ready,” Josh answered, a bead of sweat trickling down his forehead. He hated closed spaces, and he had never been in a tighter enclosure in his life.

 
; “It’ll take us about an hour for the approach,” Nunez explained. “That will put us right under the target. Then I need to work us into position, which can take some time.”

  “You just do what you do best,” Josh said. “The important part is that the guy on that catamaran never knows we’re there.”

  “I can put you under that boat quiet as duck down floating on a summer breeze.”

  “Wake me up when we get there. I’m going to close my eyes for a while. Nothing but black to see outside right now anyway. Black outside, black inside. I might as well take a peek behind my eyelids.”

  Nunez chuckled. “A bit tight in here for you, huh?”

  “My skin is looser than this thing.” Josh closed his eyes and listened to the faraway hum of the electric motor spinning a stealth prop. The sound drifted away behind him and became almost imperceptible. It seemed like only a few minutes had passed when the intercom crackled in his ears. Josh flicked his eyes open and looked at his watch. It read 0137.

  “We’re on target, sir,” Nunez said quietly. “We’re thirty feet down, and holding. My upward facing sonar shows us directly below the space between the hulls. Where do you want me to surface?”

  Josh cleared his throat. “At the bows. This boat has a solid foredeck, so if we can come up in the space below the foredeck and between the bows, that will give me the best cover. This late at night, he won’t be on deck saying his prayers. I’ll swim a lap from there to have a look-see. You should submerge and stand by.”

  “Aye, sir.”

  A moment later, the clear plastic dome over Josh’s head quietly broke the surface directly between the bows and beneath the solid foredeck. He felt for the Glock in the holster under his left arm, tugged it out and pulled the slide back just far enough to check for a round in the chamber. Double checking was an old habit, even though his firearm always carried a round in the chamber. Satisfied, he snugged the gun in its holster, then quietly released the overhead latches and slid the dome back on its glides. Without a sound, he wiggled up out of the seat and eased himself over the side into the water, careful to make no ripples or splash. He reached up and slid the dome forward and latched it from outside, and the tiny sub dropped away beneath him.