Deadly Passage

by Lawrence Gold

  After ten minutes, he took a deep breath. ‘‘I’ve got to take a break.’’

  From all his years at sea, and with his experience watching mechanics, Andy had learned a valuable lesson: never give up. The best mechanics persist until they finally resolve the problem. He stood, stretched, and went to the freezer. He removed a semi-frozen bottle of water, and drank about a quart.

  Before he went back to work, he stuck his head through the companionway. ‘‘Is everything okay?’’

  ‘‘Sure, Daddy. The seas are a little bigger, but the wind’s steady. No problemo.’’

  Andy went back to the engine. ‘‘She’s a good kid.’’

  ‘‘Takes after her father.’’

  ‘‘No, Jesse. She takes after you.’’

  Andy grabbed a large hemostat, and a surgical clamp, and carefully removed the new impeller. He had a dozen or more surgical instruments he’d relegated to repairs; they were often invaluable.

  When he finally got the impeller off, the key was gone. ‘‘Shit!’’ He shouted, ‘‘We’re screwed.’’

  Without this tiny piece, the impeller wouldn’t work.

  ‘‘Do we have another one?’’ Jesse asked.

  ‘‘I think so… somewhere. The old key’s got to be here somewhere, or it fell into the pan below the engine.’’

  Andy placed himself prone on the floor, and extended his arm to its full length into the pan below the engine. It contained a half inch of water, oil, diesel, and slime, and its smell said that this was either a deadly poison, or a cure for cancer. He began running his fingers through the slimy-black muck when the SSB radio came alive.

  ‘‘Prophecy… Prophecy, this is United Stated Coast Guard Station, Miami. Do you copy?’’

  ‘‘Get that, Jesse.’’

  Jesse responded, giving them their position, and the wind and sea conditions.

  ‘‘This is Captain Adams. How are you guys doing?’’

  ‘‘We’re having engine problems. Andy’s trying to replace the impeller.’’

  ‘‘You guys better get going soon. Agnes is heading your way.’’

  ‘‘Shit. Tell him we’re doing the best we can.’’

  ‘‘Andy said a few unkind words, Captain.’’

  ‘‘I’ve worked on boats at sea, myself. I know exactly how he’s feeling.’’

  ‘‘He’ll get it,’’ Jesse said. ‘‘He always does.’’

  ‘‘Listen, Jesse… can I call you Jesse?’’ Adams asked.

  ‘‘Of course.’’

  ‘‘Let’s not wait until we’re dealing with a full-blown disaster. If you can’t get well ahead of Agnes, I’d prefer a rescue at sea early, rather than late.’’

  Andy raised his head. ‘‘Tell him to check back with us in an hour.’’

  After another ten minutes, Andy had finally felt the key, grasped it, and pulled it out of the pan. ‘‘Eureka!’’

  He cleaned the key, placed it in the slot, and slid the new impeller onto the shaft. He pushed and pushed, but it wouldn’t go any further. Finally, he let out a string of expletives, shoved hard, and the impeller slid into place.

  He lay back on the cabin sole, sweating, gasping, and smiling. ‘‘Got it.’’

  Andy replaced the impeller cover, then went to the sink, scrubbed his face and hands, and drank another half quart of ice water. He smiled. ‘‘Ask me if I want to go home, now.’’

  The VHF radio, set on channel 16, sounded. ‘‘Sailing vessel, Prophecy, this is the Cuban Navy vessel Faul II. We’re two miles behind you, and request permission to come aboard.’’

  Andy picked up the hand piece. ‘‘This is Prophecy, a United States-flagged vessel sailing in international waters. Permission denied.’’

  ‘‘Skipper, this is Captain Ortiz of the Cuban Navy. We mean you no harm. We simply want the American criminals you have on board. The Cuban government wants them for crimes against the state.’’

  ‘‘Captain Ortiz, my name is Andrew Reiss. I’m a physician, and a specialist in infectious diseases. The Americans are quite ill and highly infectious. You cannot… you must not… take them on board. Do you copy?’’

  ‘‘I’m sorry, Dr. Reiss,’’ Ortiz said, ‘‘but, we’re under orders to remove them,’’ He slowed his words for emphasis, ‘‘by any means possible. Please don’t make this difficult.’’

  Andy looked at Jesse, and released the transmit button on the radio. ‘‘Get everyone in life jackets.’’

  ‘‘Ryan and Nicole, too?’’

  ‘‘Yes, damn them. Then get the Coast Guard on the SSB radio, while I stall the Cubans.’’

  Jesse nodded.

  Andy went into the cockpit, where he picked up the VHF handset. ‘‘Ortiz, this is an act of piracy at best, and an act of war at worst. Please check with your superiors before you do this.’’

  Should I tell them that we’re in contact with the USCG? He thought. Will that scare them off, or force them to act more aggressively?

  ‘‘Captain Ortiz, we’re in contact with the United States Coast Guard. They’ll be here in minutes. Please reconsider.’’

  ‘‘I’m sorry, Señor, prepare to be boarded.’’

  Just then, Andy saw a puff of smoke in the distance, heard a blast from behind, and the sound of the shell whizzing overhead. It landed and exploded in the water 100 yards ahead.

  Chapter Forty-Two

  That same afternoon, the President stood at the oval office window, looking at an overcast sky covering the district.

  When Preston Harding entered, the President turned. ‘‘Give me some good news, will you?’’

  ‘‘We’ve identified Kamal Yamin’s biological weapons laboratory in Waziristan. The Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff will be here in a moment with the DCI and DHS. Harvey Marshall demanded to be included. When I told him he wasn’t invited, he went ballistic. I said… well, you don’t want to hear what I said, Mr. President.’’

  ‘‘Thanks. There’s only so much of that man that I can take.’’

  ‘‘Marshall and his allies are a significant part of your base, Mr. President. They may be patriots, but, in my opinion, they’re nuts when it comes to Cuba.’’

  After the men entered, the President turned to the DCI. ‘‘What do we know of the biological weapons laboratory?’’

  ‘‘It’s a small facility, but a productive and highly dangerous one. Yamin ran similar, but larger, labs in Iraq and Afghanistan. After we destroyed them, he joined Al-Qaeda in Waziristan. Our analysts think he brought with him several of his most dangerous creations.’’

  ‘‘The Iraqis have proven their willingness to use them, Mr. President,’’ the DHS said. ‘‘Al-Qaeda will exhibit even less restraint. We have no reason to believe that they won’t use them. I recommend we destroy that laboratory by any means possible.’’

  The President turned to the Chairman of the Joint Chiefs. ‘‘General?’’

  ‘‘We can take it out by air with pinpoint precision bombing, but that’s never as good as standing next to the rubble.’’

  ‘‘How difficult will it be for Delta to get in, do the job, and get out?’’ Harding asked.

  ‘‘It’s an Al-Qaeda area, but we see no significant troop concentrations.’’ The CJCS said. ‘‘I think we can do the job with little risk. I leave the politics of an attack on the Pakistani’s sovereign soil to you, sir.’’

  ‘‘How urgent is this?’’ The President asked.

  ‘‘I think it’s fair to assume,’’ the DCI said, ‘‘that they know of the arrest and detention of Jorge Lopez, and the imminent attack in Miami. They’ve moved these labs before. They’ll move this one, soon.’’

  Harding turned to the CJCS. ‘‘How quickly can we mount the raid?’’

  ‘‘Delta is standing by in Afghanistan awaiting your orders, Mr. President.’’

  The President stood at attention. ‘‘Do it, and do it right.’’

  By the time Harvey Marshall returned to his office at the Pentagon, he was
boiling mad. He’d handled the situation poorly by trying to force an attack on Cuba so soon. It would take a groundswell of pressure to force the President’s hand.

  Marshall’s aide entered. ‘‘As you requested, sir, I have Miguel Garcia on the line.’’

  ‘‘Miguel, que pasa?’’ Marshall asked.

  ‘‘You tell me, Harvey,’’ Miguel said. ‘‘Do you know what’s been happening in Cuba?’’

  ‘‘I’ll meet you at our usual place in Rock Creek Park. Give me an hour.’’

  They sat on a wooden bench overlooking the creek.

  ‘‘You know what’s going on, Harvey?’’

  ‘‘We’ve had many discussions before, my friend,’’ Marshall said. ‘‘You know my position on Castro.’’

  ‘‘Of course, Señor.’’

  ‘‘I know much of Castro’s activities in the past have been shocking, but you’ve never heard of anything like what I’m about to tell you.’’

  Miguel sat up straight.

  ‘‘This will all come out, eventually. If the President ever discovers it came from me, I’ll be finished, and you’ll lose a powerful ally. Frankly, I’m not sure what we should do.’’

  ‘‘Please, Señor, you can trust me and the CEF. Tell me.’’

  ‘‘We have undeniable evidence that Castro has conspired with Al-Qaeda to launch a biological weapons attack on the United States.’’

  ‘‘Ay dios mio!’’ Miguel cried. ‘‘That son-of-a-bitch will do anything. What is it? How will he do it?’’

  ‘‘It’s smallpox, amigo. They deliberately infected two young Americans. They are the biological equivalent of suicide bombers. They were on their way to Miami, but ran into trouble. Now they’re aboard a U.S.-flagged sailboat.’’

  ‘‘Americans… terrorists…Al-Qaeda… I don’t get it.’’

  ‘‘Nobody gets it.’’

  ‘‘Will they succeed?’’

  ‘‘I don’t know. The government is fully mobilizing to deal with this.’’

  ‘‘What can we do to help, Harvey?’’

  ‘‘Whatever you do, you’re not to mention smallpox. Rumors about radical Islamists in Cuba will be useful, and will set the stage for the final revelation. Once this goes public, Miguel, we may finally have the American people behind us for the first time.’’

  ‘‘Ojalá,’’ Miguel said. ‘‘God willing.’’

  The USCG Chief stood next to Barney Adams as he put down the powerful radio’s handset. ‘‘What’s happening, Barney?’’

  ‘‘I just got off the air with Prophecy. They had mechanical problems, but they’re on their way full steam ahead.’’

  ‘‘When will they arrive at the rendezvous?’’

  ‘‘About 1300 hours, tomorrow, sir.’’

  ‘‘Hurricane Agnes?’’

  ‘‘At the rate she’s going, she’s 12 to 18 hours behind.’’

  ‘‘That’s cutting it pretty close.’’

  ‘‘They know, sir. I offered to take them off rather than have us try a rescue at sea in the middle of a hurricane, but they think they can make it.’’

  ‘‘Barney?’’

  ‘‘Yes, sir.’’

  ‘‘Keep me posted, and let’s not screw this up.’’

  ‘‘Aye, aye, Skipper.’’

  As the chief rose to leave, the radio blasted with Jesse’s voice. ‘‘Mayday, mayday, mayday. This is the vessel Prophecy. We’re at 25° 16.14, 83° 02.09 and we’re under attack by the Cuban Navy. Do you copy?’’

  Barney turned to his aide. ‘‘Scramble a HU-25 Falcon right now.’’

  ‘‘We have you, Jesse. Help’s on its way. What happened?’’

  ‘‘They want to board and take off Ryan and Nicole. When Andy refused, they sent a round over our bow to show that they meant business. They say they’re coming aboard.’’

  ‘‘How far away are they?’’

  ‘‘Maybe four miles, but they’re coming, Barney!’’

  ‘‘We’ll have an HU-25 Falcon overhead in about 20 minutes. They carry 30 mm cannon and Exocet missiles. Hang in there, Jesse.’’

  Chapter Forty-Three

  Lieutenant Commander Matthew Hayes jumped into the cockpit of his HU-25, and in seconds, he was speeding down the runway. The ground crew had inserted Prophecy’s longitude and latitude into the GPS navigation system.

  ‘‘I’m airborne,’’ Hayes said. ‘‘Absent any direct commands from you, Captain Adams, I’m bound by our standard rules of engagement.’’

  ‘‘Contact me when you’re over the target,’’ Adams said.

  Water sprayed over Prophecy from the round that landed 50 feet off its starboard side.

  Faul II plowed through the 12 to 16 foot swell as the Cuban boat closed the gap. Although they could do nothing to escape, Andy knew that if the Cuban’s first priority was to remove Ryan and Nicole, they would have to place an inflatable into the water to come alongside. It wouldn’t be easy with a large swell.

  Rachel stuck her head out of the companionway. ‘‘What are they doing, Daddy?’’

  ‘‘Please, Rachel, stay below. It’s not safe up here.’’

  Andy grabbed his binoculars and watched the Cubans in their attempt to lower their Zodiac Hurricane. After the third try in ten minutes, the Zodiac pulled away from the mother ship, and was bouncing through the waves with five uniformed men on board. Each carried an automatic weapon.

  Jesse and Rachel climbed into the cockpit.

  ‘‘Damn it,’’ Andy shouted. ‘‘Stay below.’’

  ‘‘Like hell we will,’’ Jesse said. ‘‘Let’s see if they’re willing to attack women and children.’’

  ‘‘Those men don’t give a shit. They’re sailors, and will follow orders.’’

  When the boat came along the port side, Lieutenant Diaz raised his megaphone. ‘‘We’re coming aboard.’’

  ‘‘Like hell you are,’’ Andy yelled, turning Prophecy into them, and forcing them away. When they returned, the officer raised his assault rifle, and filled the air with automatic weapon fire.

  Andy moved reflexively to cover his wife and daughter.

  ‘‘This is crazy, Andy. Let the Cubans have them. It’s what they deserve.’’

  Andy stared at his wife and daughter. ‘‘I’m not sure that’s all they want.’’

  When the Zodiac returned, Andy steered Prophecy straight ahead, while the Cubans tied up alongside. Diaz climbed aboard.

  Diaz saluted Andy, ‘‘A wise decision, Señor. Take me to your guests.

  Andy shook his head, ‘‘Don’t do it, Lieutenant. They’re infectious, and will put you and your entire crew in jeopardy.’’

  Diaz ignored Andy, and started down the companionway. ‘‘Diaz, it’s smallpox, deadly smallpox.’’

  Diaz froze, stared at Andy in disbelief, and then picked up his VHF microphone. ‘‘Captain Ortiz, the skipper says that the terrorists have smallpox.’’

  Ortiz responded over the VHF. ‘‘Ridiculous, Lieutenant. Smallpox doesn’t exist anymore. You have your orders.’’

  When Diaz went below, he stood before the barrel-bolted door for a moment, and then slid it open. Diaz reached into the lower bunk, grabbed the man, and rolled him onto his back. He turned on the light switch, and gasped at Ryan’s pox-filled face. Diaz paled, fell backward through the door to the floor, and then scampered up and ran for the sink. He stood there, scrubbing his hands vigorously, and then he dried them on his uniform.

  Diaz picked up the VHF. ‘‘Captain! Captain! I saw them! It is smallpox!’’

  Out of nowhere, the HU-25 roared not more than 30 feet over Prophecy’s mast, its cannon blasting toward the Cuban patrol boat ahead. Andy looked up to see plumes of water bursting before Faul II’s bow.

  Over the radio, the HU-25 was transmitting. ‘‘Faul II. This is the United States Coast Guard Lieutenant Commander Matthew Hayes. Cease your hostile actions at once, or you won’t survive my next pass.’’

  ‘‘Coast Guard, this is Captain Ortiz.
Do not interfere with Cuba’s pursuit of these criminals.’’

  Hayes keyed his microphone. ‘‘I’ve given you fair warning, Ortiz. I have Exocet missiles aboard, and my orders authorize me to use them.’’

  On the bridge of Faul II, Ortiz stared at his men, and then toward the HU-25, and shook his head. ‘‘Commander Hayes, I need to recover my men.’’

  ‘‘Good decision, Captain. You’re free to do so.’’

  Diaz and his men returned to the Zodiac, and drove full power back to Faul II.

  Andy picked up the handset. ‘‘Fantastic, Hayes. You saved our asses.’’

  ‘‘Matt Hayes, Skipper. Glad I could be of service. Captain Adams sends his regards.’’

  ‘‘Man, you made it just in time.’’

  ‘‘Sir, if you’re in contact with Captain Adams, I’d appreciate it if you briefed him on the sequence of events. I may have some explaining to do.’’

  ‘‘Will do, Lieutenant. I’ll make it clear to all that you saved our lives.’’

  The HU-25 circled for another 10 minutes. ‘‘I’m running a bit low on fuel, Skipper. Got to return to base.’’

  Andy waved. ‘‘Thanks again. I owe you a cold one.’’

  ‘‘HU-25, out,’’ Matt Hayes said as he turned the plane and headed northeast.

  Andy radioed the USCG. When he got Barney Adams, he briefed him on the events. ‘‘I’m guessing that the Cubans were out to sink us if they couldn’t get the terrorists, and they would have, if not for Lieutenant Hayes. We owe you guys.’’

  ‘‘All I can say, Andy, is that I hope you’re worth all the trouble.’’

  ‘‘Listen, Barney, I’m having second thoughts about our plan.’’

  ‘‘Go ahead.’’

  ‘‘I’d like to set a course directly for Ft. Myers. First, we’re running out of time with Hurricane Agnes. The quicker we get in, the better. Second, the waters off Point Sable are shallow. With the storm approaching, the waves are going to build up dramatically in that vicinity.’’