by Trevor Scott
“I don’t think anyone from the Agency would be on the guest list.”
“Gotcha. Anything else?”
“No. Remember that the radio goes both ways.” Kurt Jenkins gave Jake the ability to call him with their onboard radio. Then the two of them clicked off. Jake climbed back up to Elisa.
“Everything all right?” Elisa asked him.
“Yeah. I don’t know how in the hell our Agency knows this, but somehow they’re aware of your contact aboard the Greek yacht.”
She looked at him with wonder. “That makes no sense. Even my agency doesn’t know she’s aboard. The CIA is good.”
They could be, Jake knew. But they should have never gotten into bed with the likes of Petros Caras in the first place.
Once they passed the break water, Elisa pushed the throttle and the motors came to life, churning the water behind them and sending the bow higher until they reached a cruising speed and they leveled off. Jake checked out the GPS. They were only twenty miles from the intercept point. That was only about a half hour at this speed, assuming the Greek yacht was still at its cruising speed and course.
Twenty minutes later and Jake still couldn’t see any sign of the yacht on the horizon. He called Kurt Jenkins on the radio and heard the yacht had changed course slightly, vectoring to the west. Kurt could see both of their vessels, separated by just fifteen miles.
“They must be just over the horizon to the southwest of us,” Jake said to Elisa. “Does this beast go any faster?”
Elisa smiled and shoved the throttle all the way open. By now the sun was close to rising, but the cloud cover from the end of the storm would keep it fairly dark on the ocean. In just ten minutes Jake saw them in the distance.
“Christ look at the size of that thing,” Jake said. “It’s like a damn destroyer.”
“It’s over a hundred and six meters.”
“Wow, that’s three hundred and fifty feet.”
They closed on the massive yacht and when they got to within a football field they simply kept pace with the Greek ship.
●
On board the Greek yacht, the ship’s captain had called for Petros Caras to join him on the bridge. Since it sounded urgent, the billionaire came within a couple of minutes.
The captain handed Petros Caras a set of binoculars. “Sir, we have a patrol boat approaching from the stern.”
Petros Caras looked through the binoculars and saw the camouflaged boat for himself. “What kind of boat is that? It’s not our friends is it?”
“No, sir. It appears to be an Italian Navy patrol boat. But they haven’t used those in decades.” The captain had his own set of binoculars. He pulled them down now and looked at his boss. “Sir, they have two torpedo tubes that appear to be loaded, along with a machine gun on the stern.”
“What the hell do they want? Aren’t we still in international waters?”
“Yes, sir.”
This was confusing to Petros Caras. They’d never had a problem with any navy in the world. Not even when they hauled arms into ports in Lebanon and Syria. This made no sense. “Can you get them on the radio?”
The captain gave orders to his man at the wheel to maintain their current course and speed and then picked up the radio and called to the smaller patrol boat.
Finally a woman came over the radio in Italian. “This is the Italian Navy. Come to a complete stop and prepare to be boarded.”
The captain and Petros Caras stared at each other in complete confusion.
“Under what authority?” the captain asked, switching from Greek to Italian.
After some hesitation, the response came. “The Law of the Sea Convention.”
The captain shook his head. “We are outside the twelve-mile territorial waters of Italy and are authorized innocent passage.”
“Captain, check your charts. Italy owns an island off your port bow and the twelve-mile exclusion extends beyond that island. You have not filed a float plan to pass through our waters.”
The captain looked at his charts, both electronic and on paper, and he wasn’t sure what this Italian sailor was talking about.
“What’s going on?” Petros Caras asked, his eyes cast upon the charts and then off the bow. He didn’t see any island ahead.
“I have no idea.”
●
While Elisa engaged the yacht over the radio, she had quickly moved in closer to the stern of the large yacht. Meanwhile, Jake was out on the front of the Italian patrol boat waiting for her to get them close enough for him to jump aboard.
Ten feet away now, and the Greeks obviously looking to the port bow for an island that did not exist, Jake felt his gun on his hip and tightened the small pack on his back.
Five feet out and Jake took the opportunity to jump. He landed on the stern of the yacht and quickly rolled to his side. Laying there for a second, he watched as Elisa cut power and let her boat get back to a reasonable distance. Then she powered up and kept vectored to the port side, not wanting to get close enough for them to see that she might be alone, but a distraction to keep their eyes on her and not Jake at the stern.
Jake pulled his gun and released the safety on his 9mm auto. Then he climbed the ladder and peered over the top.
Nobody there.
He rose up, ran across the helo pad toward an entrance, and rushed into a lounge area. He guessed most people were probably still asleep. Good enough for him. Jake needed to find this Czech intelligence officer and let her know he was with her.
His feet squeaked as the salt water worked its way from the soles of his shoes. Finding the main forward passageway, he crept quietly forward, his gun moving side to side as he passed each door. It wasn’t like he could check every compartment. Some would contain crew members, he was sure.
Then he looked up at the top of a door and saw that it was latched and locked from the outside. That didn’t look right.
Quietly, his eyes working both sides of the passageway, he slid the latch open, slowly opened the door, and peered around the compartment. He saw a blur of something and he hit the deck, rolling to his side, pointing his gun at the attacker and just about to pull the trigger. But something made him pause.
“Don’t shoot!” a woman yelled quietly. “It’s me.”
Jake’s eyes finally focused on the woman before him. It wasn’t the Czech woman, the beautiful model working undercover. It was Toni Contardo, his former girlfriend and current officer in the CIA, a crutch in her hand as a weapon.
“What the hell are you doing here?” Jake asked, getting to his feet.
She shoved both crutches under her arms and made her way back to the bed. “Trying to convince this moron Greek to come back into the fold.” Toni settled onto the bed.
“What the hell happened to your ankle?”
“A helo drop in rough seas,” she said. “How did you get here?”
“A boat. Listen, have you seen a hot Czech model?”
“That’s why you came? To find a pretty woman?”
“Hey, my friend in the boat is Italian Intel. She’s the handler of the Czech. We need to get her off the boat. And you now.”
“What about the American professor? Where is she?”
“We lost her. But we believe the Greeks are bringing her here.”
“Why?”
“I don’t have time to explain. Where’s the Czech woman?”
“You wouldn’t happen to have another gun.”
Jake shook his head. “Afraid not.”
Toni got up from the bed and hobbled over to him. “I’m always saving your ass.”
“Wait a minute. Seems to me I’m saving yours this time.”
“Right. Svetla is in the stateroom of Petros Caras. Follow me.”
Just as they got to the passageway, a man rounded a corner toward the bow and pulled his automatic handgun when he saw them. But Jake was ready for the man. He shot twice and the man dropped to the deck.
“Now you have a gun,” Jake said. He collected the gun from the man�
�s dead hand and gave it to Toni.
“That should have woken everyone,” Toni said, shoving the gun into her belt at her back and moving forward with the crutches. “This way.”
At the end of the passageway was a more impressive wooden door with brass fittings.
Jake rushed inside and swept the room with his gun.
“Svetla,” Toni yelled, not worrying about noise now. “It’s Toni and a friend.”
The Czech woman suddenly appeared from the bathroom wearing only her undergarments. Jake couldn’t help but stare.
“Put your tongue away, Jake,” Toni said to him. She quickly introduced Jake and Svetla to each other.
While Jake covered the door with his gun, Svetla got dressed and kept talking in Czech. Jake could understand some of what she said, but mostly just the swear words.
Finally, fully dressed now in dark slacks and a tight gray sweater, Svetla turned to Toni and said, “You two were lovers.”
“That’s ancient history,” Toni said. “Here.” She handed Svetla the 9mm auto pistol. “You’ll do better than me with this.”
“Which way?” the Czech asked.
Jake answered, “Same way I came. Head aft.”
He grasped the door handle and hesitated. The Greek’s men should have been awake and there by now. He backed the two women to one side of the door, flung open the wooden door, and immediately three bullets flew down the corridor through the opening and lodging into the wall above the bed. The spring-loaded door slammed shut. They were trapped.
26
Jake looked to Svetla and Toni. “How many men aboard?”
Svetla said, “Ten plus Petros Caras.”
“Minus the man I just shot.”
“I hurt a guy a few hours ago,” Toni said. “Probably just a broken nose, though.”
“So,” Jake said. “Still ten who could fire back at us.”
“No,” Svetla said. “The captain and one man always stay on the bridge operating the yacht.”
“Eight then. Against two.”
“Three,” Toni corrected.
“I meant two guns.” Jake looked at the Czech woman now and said, “You know the layout of this boat. Where would you position your men?”
She thought for a moment and concluded, “I would put just a couple of men at the stern to cover this passageway. A couple more at the top of the ladder outside. The rest on the upper decks as back-up in case we get through one or the other side.”
“Right,” Jake said. “Plus, they have to assume we have help with the boat outside.”
Just as he said that gunfire broke out on the upper deck. Jake thought immediately about Elisa in the old WWII Italian Navy patrol boat.
“What are they firing at?” Toni asked.
“My Italian friend, Elisa.”
“Elisa sent you here?” Svetla asked. “She’s my contact.”
“Yes.” Jake checked his gun and decided to replace the magazine in his gun with a full one. That would be seventeen rounds now. Damn it! Toni would slow them down. They would only be able to move as fast as her.
More gunfire from above them. Sounded like 9mm from sub-machine guns. Not much range on those.
He had to move fast. Elisa would probably be able to stay far enough away from the yacht to stay out of the effective range of the 9mm rounds, but the men could have something else that could reach out and get her.
No time to discuss this. If they waited too long, the men above could get help from the other Greeks who had the professor. They could be closing in on their position right now.
“All right,” Jake said. “I’m gonna go out and head aft. Try to clear a path for us.”
“You’re crazy,” Toni said. “They have us pinned down. A blind man with Parkinson’s could hit you running down that passageway.”
“You got a better idea?”
She didn’t. Neither did the Czech woman.
Jake shrugged. Here he went again, headlong into a barrage of bullets.
But now the shooting above was getting more intense and it sounded like it was coming from two directions.
He opened the door just a crack to look outside and saw two men rushing right toward him down the narrow passageway. One man looking behind them and the other toward Jake. Crouching down, Jake aimed at the men. When one of the men shot at him, Jake took the guy out. The other one turned and sent bullets flying toward Jake. Hesitating a beat, Jake fired two more times and toppled the last man.
“Let’s go,” Jake yelled.
The three of them slowly left the Greek’s stateroom, Jake in the lead, Toni in the middle, and Svetla covering their back. They moved as fast as they could, but suddenly the ship leaned hard to the port side, knocking them into the bulkhead. When they leveled off, they continued down the passageway, stepping over the dead bodies. Just about to the end, guns appeared around the corner ahead from the lounge area. Jake aimed and put himself in front of the women.
“Jake Adams,” came a loud voice. “Navy SEALS. Come to us.”
Jake wasn’t sure if it was a ruse or not. So he kept his gun aimed at the men as the three of them moved toward the stern. “How do I know you’re SEALS.”
The guy laughed and said, “Ask that pretty lady on crutches behind you. We flew to Sigonella together.”
“It’s them, Jake,” Toni said. “Nice of you guys to divert to this assignment.”
As they came around the corner, they saw two men in full black assault gear. The lead man had a beard.
“Ma’am, you were our assignment. Your boss thought you might need back-up.”
More gunfire sounded from the upper decks. The SEAL team leader talked into his head-set. Then he turned to them and said, “Got a couple of stragglers topside. We’ll wait here until my men secure the boat. Who’s the other woman with the gun?”
Toni said, “She’s with Czech Intel. She’s with us.”
The sailor shook his head. “She looks like this chick from Maxim Magazine.”
Svetla smiled. “Two months ago. That was me.”
The SEAL Team leader nodded. “Nice. Maybe I can get you to sign my copy.”
“Absolutely.”
The SEAL cocked his head slightly and glanced around the corner down the passageway. With a quick burst from his sub-machine gun, he then backed up and said into his mic. “Smoked ‘em.” He listened again and then ordered, “Hold them and send two men room-to-room.”
Jake said, “How’d you come aboard?”
“Helo,” the SEAL said.
“You see the old Italian Navy patrol boat?”
“Sure did. We coordinated our assault with her and the Agency.”
“What about the other boat?” Jake asked.
The sailor shook his head. “Don’t know about any other boat. This was our target.”
Jake needed to get off the yacht and find the other Greeks.
“What’s wrong?” Toni asked.
“The Greeks I’ve been dealing with for days, those who have Sara Halsey Jones, were on their way here to turn the professor over to Petros Caras. We need to intercept.”
“Our mission is to get this yacht to Catania,” the SEAL said. “And to bring this Greek billionaire in for debriefing.” He put air quotes around that last word.
“Understood,” Jake said. “But I could use some extra firepower. Maybe some of the guns your men confiscated topside.”
“That I can do,” the SEAL said. He backed away from them and talked into his mic.
“What about me?” Svetla asked.
Jake knew nothing about this woman or her capabilities, other than the obvious ones. “You need to go with these SEALS and give them everything you’ve got on Petros Caras.”
Svetla raised her brows and smiled. “Gladly. I might need to be debriefed thoroughly by these men.”
Another SEAL showed up from the stern carrying two sub-machine guns with extra magazines. He also had a gray-haired man by the collar, his arms zip-stripped behind his back, an
d shoved the man into a bench seat along one wall. Jake took the guns and strapped them over his shoulders, shoving the magazines into his back pocket.
“Is this the famous Petros Caras?” Jake asked.
“That’s him,” Svetla said, almost spitting out the words. Then she went into a diatribe of words in Greek as she moved closer to the man. Jake had no idea what she was saying, but the Greek looked both shocked and disappointed. When she punched the man in the face, the Navy SEALS all said “Wohh.” They were clearly impressed as the blood trickled from the man’s mouth.
Jake put his hand on the Czech officer’s shoulder. “Okay, you can have your way with the man after I get a little information from him.” He turned to the Greek and asked him where his men were right now, those who held Sara Halsey Jones.
The Greek licked the blood from his mouth. “So, you are Jake Adams. I thought you would be taller.”
“I get that a lot. Now answer my question. Where’s that long-haired Yanni and his friends?”
“He will fuck you up,” Petros Caras said, trying out his best American English slang.
“Yeah, I know,” Jake said. “All you Greeks like it up the ass. So where is your butt buddy?”
He laughed under his breath. “You’re too late. When these men started their attack, I told them to kill the American professor.”
“You’re lying. You wouldn’t do that without understanding what she found.” Jake was delaying just long enough for the SEAL Team to do their magic.
“And you know this for sure,” Petros Caras said.
“Yeah, I’ve known dirtbags like you my entire life. You think everything can be purchased. Everyone has a price. But you can’t buy me. You can’t buy these Navy SEALS. You owe the Agency your very existence. You survive only at their will.”
“I can buy the CIA.” The Greek spelled out the letters slowly.
Jake turned to the SEAL Team commander. “Have your men traced the call on the SAT phone?”
The SEAL man with the beard said, “Sure did. Thanks to your friend at the Agency. You must have friends in high places. It usually takes a lot longer than that. The coordinates have been given to your Italian friend out in the patrol boat. By the way, I like your ride.”
“All right,” Jake said. “I’m outta here.”