Bloodstorm sts-13

by Keith Douglass

  “Uh-huh. Yes. The AWACS reports that there is a helicopter approaching the small merchantman headed back toward Athens. There is a landing pad on the freighter. If the bird lands, AWACS will tell us and then follow it to wherever it goes.”

  Don Stroh headed for the door. “I’m getting on my SATCOM and calling my chief and the President. They need to know about this.”

  “Admiral, can NATO take a squad of men and surround that chopper when it lands?” Murdock asked.

  “Not a chance. By the time we told the Greek officials what we wanted to do and had approval, it would be next Thursday. They don’t work quickly here, and we have no authority otherwise.”

  Murdock scowled. “That’s bad. Hey, how about a gaggle of civilians, say fourteen, all men, storm that chopper when it lands thinking there is a famous movie actress on board.”

  “Might work,” the admiral said. “You men do a kind of sit-in while I get the Athens airport police to seize the chopper for possible smuggling.”

  “Time?” Murdock asked.

  “The chopper has over a hundred miles to go. Could take him two hours. It’s a small civilian bird. Let’s get to the PX and get you some clothes. You can change on the way.”

  A half hour later the fourteen SEALs, in various kinds of civilian clothes and without a weapon among them, headed toward the Athens airport on a NATO bus. The SEAL SATCOM hooked up with the AWACS plane, and it told them precisely where the chopper was about to land, at the far end of the airport near a little-used gate.

  The bus charged through a gate that said no admittance, and hurried down a half mile to the chopper. Both arrived at the same time. The SEALs boiled out of the bus and charged the chopper.

  Already they could see they were too late. A small pickup truck had been in position where the chopper landed. A large box had been pulled out of the chopper and hoisted into the pickup, which promptly smashed through the back swing-out gate, breaking a lock and slamming open the steel and wire barrier. The pickup raced off down a dirt track and into a light industrial area.

  “No way our bus can stay with that light truck,” Murdock said, not even breathing hard after the thirty-yard sprint. “Let’s grab the pilot and the second man in the chopper for a little informal grilling.”

  The two men spoke only Greek. By that time airport police had boiled up in a pair of cars, and the police rushed up to the chopper. One of the officers spoke English, the second language of Greece.

  “This helicopter landed without clearances,” the policeman said. “They will be held and charged. Looks like they also broke the fence. Another charge for that.”

  By that time another official car had pulled up. It was the airport police chief. Beside him was Admiral Tanning.

  “If we’d had our weapons we could have stopped them,” Murdock told the admiral.

  “Yes. But this isn’t our country. I’ve told the chief the problem. He says he has men watching all air freight areas and all private planes leaving. If they try to fly the box out of here, he will catch them and seize it.”

  “Lots of luck. It could slip through a hundred different ways,” DeWitt said.

  “I’m going with the chief while he questions the two chopper pilots,” said the admiral. “If they know where the box was heading, we’ll find out.”

  “Anything on the name or registry of the freighter?” Murdock asked.

  “Yes, something here, Satellite photo, I think. Here it is. She’s the Faizabad Roamer. My guess, Panama registered. Seems that ninety percent of all ships are registered there. It’s easy, quick, and cheap. No safety regulations.”

  “Could our men help watch the air freight areas?” DeWitt asked.

  The admiral asked the chief something in Greek, and had an answer.

  “He said yes. They will give you jackets to wear at the main building. He’s sending two of his men along to get you suited up and positioned.”

  The SEALs spent the next six hours patrolling the air freight areas. They watched shipments being loaded; they checked on the carriers that had loads in place. They all wore jackets with airport security logos, which gave them license to go anywhere.

  Once they found a box that seemed familiar. When they checked it, Bradford said it was too big. He lifted one side of it and shook his head. It was bound for New York.

  “Whole thing can’t weigh more than thirty pounds. Too light.”

  They kept looking.

  Admiral Tanning sat in his car nearby watching and talking on his SATCOM. Murdock checked in with him every hour.

  “Might have something, Commander,” the admiral said the next time Murdock stopped by. “One of the pilots of that chopper said the word Kabul. The only Kabul I know of is the capital of Afghanistan.”

  “That is bad news, Admiral. That’s where Osama bin Laden had his headquarters for years. I hear he may be moving his operations back there and that he’s on good terms with the government there again.”

  “We ran the name of the ship through our sources, and it came back with a Panamanian registry, but also that it is owned by a shipping company from Afghanistan and with a home port in Jask, Iran.”

  “Have you checked any aircraft leaving that have filed a flight plan for Afghanistan?”

  “Not yet, but I’m about to. Just hope that we’re not too late.”

  Ten minutes later, the admiral honked the horn on his sedan. Murdock ran over to it. The admiral was grim.

  “Report just came in. A private transport craft left an hour ago bound for Kabul. It carried over twenty thousand pounds of freight, and all of it had export tags passed by the customs department. I’d say we missed the box with the warhead in it.”

  * * *

  An hour later, the SEALs had returned the civilian clothes, put on their cammies, and relaxed in their quarters at the NATO compound. Don Stroh showed up with a SATCOM slung over his shoulder.

  “Hey, Stroh, you joining up?” Ron Holt yelled at him.

  “Should. I’ve been spending enough time on this radio. I love it. I can call anyone I want anywhere in the damn world. Where’s Murdock?”

  “Officer country.”

  “Right behind you,” Murdock said, coming through the door.

  “Change of plans,” Stroh said. “Came through channels. The admiral wants to talk to you. We’re not tracking the plane heading to Kabul. The powers figure that can wait. We need to take down that damn destroyer first.”

  “Where is it?”

  “Still inside the Greek islands and making ten knots.”

  “How do we stop her?”

  “Murdock, my friend, that’s up to you and Admiral Tanning. He wants to see you, Ed, and your senior chief right away in his office.”

  “We’re on our horse.”

  When the SEALs arrived, Admiral Tanning looked grim. “We’re back on the damn Chinese freighter/destroyer. I’ve had this through channels. The President wants your Third Platoon to slow or stop that destroyer. It has to look like an accident, so we can’t use any overt military action. What are your ideas?”

  “We mentioned limpet mines before, Admiral,” Murdock said. “They could be planted covertly. If both were on one side, it could appear as though the ship hit a floating mine left over from World War II.”

  “A possibility. What other ideas?”

  “Sir, one of the men suggested that Stinger missiles might be used. They have a three-mile range, two-point-two pounds of high explosives, and Mach 1 speed,” Senior Chief Dobler said.

  “No. That’s an air-to-ground or air-to-air missile and it’s IR-guided,” Admiral Tanning said. “No infrarred to latch onto on that destroyer. Anyway, that would make it too much of a military hit.”

  “If we wanted to board her, we’d need two hundred men and a complete sweep-down by twenty-millimeter rounds by helicopter gunships,” DeWitt said. “We know that’s one that won’t work.”

  “One of my men suggested we dive and throw a line around her screws,” Murdock said. “W
hen the last of the line wraps around the turning screw, it has on the end a bomb that blows off the screw, putting the ship dead in the water.”

  “That one sounds good,” Admiral Tanning said. “What else do you have?”

  “We considered RPGs,” Murdock said. “But that would put us within two hundred yards of the ship and their radar would undoubtedly pick us up. Such an attack could be blamed on terrorists or maybe modern-day pirates, but the destroyer would have no problem with a small attack like that.”

  “The President and his advisors didn’t say how we were to stop the ship, just that it had to be stopped without the use of any obvious military action,” Admiral Tanning said. “Commander, what’s your best shot at this job?”

  Murdock looked at his two fellow SEALs. “We think it should be the limpets and the bomb on the propeller. Both could be blamed on old mines. We could use some kind of weathered cable, a quarter inch or so, to reinforce the idea that it was an old tied-down mine that broke loose.”

  The admiral took out a pipe, cleaned it, and put in fresh tobacco. He lit the pipe, then blew out a cloud of blue smoke and waved at the SEALs.

  “I’m giving you a go on this, SEALs. It’s within the parameters. Then we’ll let the top brass figure out what to do with the destroyer once she’s dead in the water.” The admiral pumped out more smoke. Then he nodded.

  “Yeah, I thought of what was bothering me. About two months ago somebody came to us with a larger-sized limpet mine. Twice as big as any I’ve ever seen. He wanted to put on a demo for us. Had to turn him down, but he left some for us to experiment with. Would you like to take a look at them?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Twenty minutes later, in the NATO ammo bunker six feet underground, the admiral showed the SEALs the limpet mines.

  “Still magnetic and with a simple detonator,” the admiral said. “You can take them if you want to.”

  “Yes, let’s use them,” DeWitt said. “Two of them on the stern of that destroyer should make an impression on the Chinese mind.”

  “How many?” Murdock asked.

  “We should have two to use and two for backup in case we lose one,” Senior Chief Dobler said.

  “Then we’ll need some TNAZ or some C-4 to make our prop bomb,” DeWitt said.

  “And the cable,” Murdock added. “Something used and old if possible. The Chinese will send divers down to check out a blown-off screw.”

  “Our top ordnance man here can fix you up with whatever you need,” the admiral said. “What’s your timing?”

  “Have to be at night. It’s now almost 1600. Too late for tonight. Is that cruiser Cowpens still shadowing the destroyer?”

  “Yes.”

  “We could use her for our launching pad,” Murdock said. “Chopper us out there and we push off at first dark. It would help if the cruiser could move in another five miles toward the destroyer just before we launch. We can go in tomorrow night. Give us all day to get set up.”

  “That sounds good. I’ll order the cruiser to move in to five miles from the target tomorrow when you’re ready to launch at first dark, and I’ll get that Sea Knight authorized and ready. My ordnance man can fix you up with the rest.”

  “Oh, we’ll need two IBSs. The cruiser might not have any.”

  “That’s the small inflatable boats you use. I’ll get a pair flown in from somewhere. Talk with ordnance here and get this part worked out. Good luck, Commander.”

  Back in their quarters at the NATO compound, the SEALs began going over their equipment. Both squads would make the trip. Two boats, four limpets, two as backup.

  Heads turned as Kat Garnet walked into the room wearing a trim Navy officer’s blouse, jacket, and skirt.

  Somebody whistled.

  Kat grinned and waved at Murdock. “Hi, guys. I hear that I’m going to be going with you on this limpet-mine attack on the Chinese destroyer.”

  14

  Senior Chief Dobler looked up from where he worked on his weapon, and did a double take.

  “Say what, Lieutenant? You’re going along with us on our limpet hit on the Chinese destroyer?”

  “That’s what I heard,” Kat said. “Do you want to outfit me with gear or wait until it’s official?”

  “If it’s all right with the lieutenant, ma’am, I think we better wait.”

  Kat grinned. “That’s fine, Senior Chief. There isn’t any hurry. I’ll just talk with the guys. Sorry you got blown off that rust bucket of a freighter that turned out to be a destroyer. Do we know that for sure yet? Maybe it’s a frigate.”

  “Either way we got stomped on good. We didn’t expect it, Kat. We were looking for about forty merchant seamen and a pistol and one rifle on board. We got surprised. But we were lucky to get away with just one wounded.”

  “Ching. How is he?”

  “He’ll make it, but he’s out of action for a couple of months, I’d think.” The chief paused. “Kat, you really hear something about going along on our limpet run?”

  “Not a chance, Senior Chief,” Murdock said as he came up behind Kat. “She’s just trying to stir up some trouble. Right, Miss Dressed All Up Garnet?”

  Kat laughed and tipped her head from side to side. “Well, it was a quiet day, and I’ve been bottled up over there in that funny BOQ all day and all night, and I was getting antsy. Okay?”

  “Fine by me. Hey, you can come visit us anytime. Brass wants you to hang around here in case we get anymore warheads. Or if we do take down that destroyer and need to do some close disassembly work on the missiles and the warheads.”

  “Admiral Tanning told me. But for now, what am I supposed to be doing? There’s that strange little PX here, but no movie theater, and no library. I’ll go crazy in a week.”

  “Won’t be here a week,” Murdock said. “Things are moving too fast. Hey, this would be a good time for you to write your memoirs, My Days As a Navy SEAL. Should be good for at least a bestseller. That is, if you could get permission from the Navy to publish, which you can’t.”

  “Thanks for the help,” Kat said.

  “Hang around a while so I can get some things straightened out and I’ll take you to dinner.”

  “Where? Some fancy Greek restaurant downtown?”

  “How about the officers’ mess?”

  “I was afraid of that.” She paused. “Yeah, why not?”

  An hour later, Murdock picked Kat up at her BOQ. He surprised her.

  “Hey, you’re dressed all up yourself,” Kat said.

  He had borrowed some khakis and some insignia and wrangled a sedan and a driver who knew Athens. The driver took them to what he called one of the best restaurants in town. He had even made reservations.

  It was sleek and modern and classy. Murdock felt underdressed, but enjoyed himself. He found one waiter who spoke English, and had him order for them. When the waiter left and they tasted their drinks, Kat yelped.

  “Hey, I don’t have any money. I know you never carry any money on a mission. How are we going to…”

  Murdock held up his hand. “I borrowed a hundred-dollar bill from Don Stroh. So don’t worry.”

  “Oh, good. I have this dream every once in a while about eating a big meal at a fine restaurant and finding out I lost my billfold and my money and my credit cards. It always ends as I start explaining and the manager is calling the police.”

  “Not this time. Now, about you. What have you been doing since we met like this before in Iran?”

  “Working. But I’m not in disposal anymore. I’m working on how to establish a really safe nuclear waste site. It’s a big problem with all the medical hot waste and some from the military and from nuclear power plants.”

  “How is it going?”

  “Mostly NIMBY.”

  Murdock frowned, trying to remember the word. “What?”

  “Mostly the reaction is NIMBY, Not In My Back Yard. We find a great site and the local population vote it down. The government is getting more sensitive to the people’s
views nowadays.”

  “So how is your love life?”

  “Don’t ask.”

  “But you had been seeing someone.”

  “None of your business.” She frowned. “How did you find out that?”

  “Remember, Don Stroh is CIA. He can find out anything about anybody. The President asked him to do a screening on you before he talked to you about the Iran caper.”

  “Oh, that’s what those guys were about. One man kept hanging around. He wasn’t very good if he was CIA.”

  “If you saw him, you were supposed to. That way, if you had anything to hide, you might freak. You didn’t.”

  “What else did Stroh find out about me?”

  “Everything. I don’t remember the list. He knows what you like to eat, where your favorite restaurant is, what movies you see, your brand of toothpaste, and the color of your underwear.”

  Kat laughed. “I bet the underwear was a disappointment.”

  “Stroh didn’t say.”

  The dinner came and they ate. Murdock didn’t have the slightest idea what kind of meat it was. He was afraid to ask. The vegetables and the salad and the dessert were all delicious.

  They lingered over another bottle of wine, and Kat said she hated to leave.

  “You’ll need a good night’s sleep for your jaunt tomorrow,” Murdock said.

  “What? You said I wasn’t going on the mission.”

  “You’re not. One of the NATO officers’ wives has arranged to take you on a sightseeing and shopping tour tomorrow. It will last all day and then you’ll go to a stage play or an opera, she wasn’t sure which.”

  “Great, no money.”

  Murdock shoved a new one-hundred-dollar bill across the table to her.

  “You can go a little wild, because Stroh is good for another tap. He says it’s expense money, so use it in good health.”

  Kat’s brown eyes glistened for a moment until she brushed away the moisture. She shook her short brown hair and leaned over to kiss his cheek. “I think you guys are trying to spoil me.” She frowned. “Either that or you’re softening me up for tonight when you try to take advantage of me.”