by Nigel Seed
Ivan turned to Jim. “The first one was being worked on in the shed they were using for maintenance so they launched that one first when they pushed it over here.”
Jim looked toward Miami, there wasn’t much to say.
The best he could do was, “Oh shit!”
They stood looking helplessly to the north, where the missile had disappeared from view. Two AV8B Harrier jump jets roared overhead, no more than one hundred feet up. The technicians ducked and the two soldiers were hard pressed not to flinch as well.
Martinez came running up beside them. “Those are from a USMC ship just to the south west of us, do you think they will catch it?”
Jim nodded slowly. “They might do, they may not be the fastest fighter aircraft nowadays, but they are a lot faster than the World War Two fighters that used to have to deal with the V1. Even so, that missile has a good head start. But once they lock a Sidewinder on to that big heat signature it should be game over. I hope.”
Martinez said, “I sure as hell hope you’re right. My sister lives in Miami.”
They turned to deal with the technicians who were still standing very still and white faced next to the third flying bomb they had intended to launch. Martinez produced the plastic ties from his pack and they secured the Russians’ hands behind them. Now they had a little more time, Jim and Ivan disabled the mechanism of the chemical warheads to prevent any possible leakage of the nerve gas and then joined Martinez who was guarding the technicians. They hauled the four men to their feet and escorted them down the track to the pier as the sun started to rise. As they went they saw US Marine AAV-7 amphibious vehicles coming ashore, crossing the white sand beach and mounting the low ridge toward them. The rear doors opened and the Marines fanned out rapidly and took up defensive positions.
Martinez snorted. “Jarheads! Every time they see a beach they think they’re back on Iwo Jima with John Wayne.”
Jim was glad to see inter-service rivalry was not just a British phenomenon. They walked the prisoners through the Marines and down the pier, on to the trawler where they were pushed into one of the large cabins to join a lot of angry men. As the gas wore off they had awakened to find themselves immobilized in their own bunks with no idea how they got that way. As the technicians joined them there was a considerable amount of shouting from those who had managed to spit out their gags, and who Jim, Martinez, and the other three men ignored.
As they stood on the deck contemplating the empty berth where the Yacht should have been, the Marines carried out a comprehensive sweep of the island. They checked every building and searched for any hiding places where a man could be concealed or where the proceeds of the robbery could be stashed for a later pick up. They found nothing. The SEALs had done their work well and cleared the island of all hostiles. The only worry now was the nerve gas warhead heading for Miami.
Chapter 45
In the cockpits of the two Harriers the pilots scanned the sky ahead as they kept the throttle pushed forward as far as possible in an attempt to catch the flying bomb before it started the dive into the city.
The Pegasus engines forced the aircraft along at the maximum speed of five hundred and fifty knots while the APG-65 radars in the nose of the two aircraft scanned the sky ahead. The V1 is a small target from astern and the first sighting was when the lead pilot spotted the distinctive pulsing tail of fire from the Argus jet engine. As dawn broke they could see the city of Miami beyond their target. They could not afford to miss. The seeker head of the Aim-9 missile locked on and launched from the starboard wing of the lead aircraft. The missile flew straight and true, but the pulsing of the ram jet on this antique flying bomb confused the sensors and it lost lock. A second missile had the same problem and it too fell away into the ocean.
The pilots realized quickly what had happened and armed their cannons. They would have to deal with this the same way they had been dealt with during the Second World War. The lead pilot thumbed the trigger on her control column and the firing of the heavy cannon caused the airframe to shudder. The cannon shells ripped into the small target and tore holes in the wings and fuselage. The engine mounts were ripped up and the engine exploded in an eruption of flame. The Flying Bomb was destroyed, setting off the remainder of the fuel in its tank in a large fireball.
The two Harrier pilots learned what the pilots of the Second World War had learned many years before. Despite looking like an aircraft the V1 was in fact a bomb and a bomb with a fuel tank of highly combustible fuel. The explosion was violent and the debris flew far and wide. Pieces of it struck the fuselage, cockpit canopy and the wing leading edges of the lead aircraft. The large engine intakes of the AV8B either side of the fuselage were also peppered with high-speed metal that entered the large apertures and began to rip the compressor blades to pieces. The vibration in the cockpit built rapidly and the engine gauges showed she was in trouble.
As the engine flamed out, the nose of the aircraft dropped toward the ever waiting sea. With no other options the pilot grabbed the ejection handle and pulled hard. Less than a second later the clear canopy above her head was shattered by the embedded explosives and she felt the punch at the base of her spine as the ejection seat powered out of the stricken aircraft.
As the parachute deployed, the seat automatically fell away, leaving the pilot shaken but safe and swinging gently to and fro as the canopy stabilized her descent. She watched as the aircraft she had just left dived, smoke trailing from its battered engine until it splashed into the blue Caribbean. The gentle breeze wafted the parachute away from the patch of burning aviation fuel and she dropped into the water.
The pilot of the second aircraft circled as slowly as possible watching the parachute deploy and his lead pilot drop into the sea. He checked to make sure the one-person dinghy mounted below the seat had functioned and the downed pilot was struggling into it, while transmitting coordinates back to the rescue helicopter that was already on the way.
People on the ground saw the fireball and the remaining Harrier as it passed by it. They knew there had been no other conventional aircraft there. Within hours, the story of the US Marines shooting down a mystery aircraft had become a tale of flying saucers and soon passed into the myth of the Bermuda Triangle, which suited the US Authorities very well.
Chapter 46
Back on the island the SEALs’ inflatable boats had now pulled in to the small bay by the pier. Marines had taken over the security of the prisoners on the trawler so Jim and the rest from Boat one made their way along the pier and on to the beach. The other SEALs came down the low ridge carrying the injured man on a stretcher with a Navy Medical Corpsman walking beside him, supporting the intravenous bag that was plugged into the casualty’s arm.
Behind them came six more SEALs carrying their downed leader in a black body bag, shoulder high. As they passed, the Marines removed their helmets in respect. Nobody spoke, there was no need, these were men who understood combat and the price that had sometimes to be paid. The body was laid carefully in Boat three and the injured man was taken into Boat two. The rest of the assault party climbed in and the boats moved back from the beach.
Geordie turned to Martinez. “Why not get the body flown out?”
Martinez was staring out to sea. “We came in together. We go out together. We look after our own.”
Geordie nodded thoughtfully, he could see where that would work for a close knit group like this.
The three Chinook helicopters reappeared and landed on the water in front of them ready for the boats to be driven up the ramp and inside the aircraft. The boat helmsmen accelerated and slid their boats up the ramps and into the body of the helicopters. As soon as they were inside, the cargo doors closed and the aircraft lifted away. The men climbed wearily out of the boats and took their seats. The air crewman passed around plastic bottles of cold water and they all drank thirstily. It had been a long night.
Jim was surprised when they thumped down to a landing very shortly after take-off. The ca
rgo doors opened and he found himself on the deck of what looked like an aircraft carrier. They unfastened their seat belts and climbing over the boat, walked through the rear door and on to the wide deck.
As they stepped off the ramp Martinez explained, “Marine Corps Amphibious Assault Ship. It’s where the AAV-7s came from probably.”
A party of Navy Corpsmen were already removing the dead SEAL from the helicopter, handling him with utmost care. The injured SEAL walked across the deck with him, determined to show no weakness in front of mere Marines. They were directed off the deck and into a debriefing room within the ship and gathered around the large map at the front of the room. The SEAL officer from the Pentagon, Duggan, stood on the raised dais looking at each man in turn. He waited until everyone from the ship’s company had left the room and the doors had closed before speaking.
His words were simple as befitted the moment. “Good job, everyone. A shame we lost the Lieutenant Commander, but casualties were lighter than we had a right to expect. On first look the doctor thinks Paulson will be OK but, with that damage to his shoulder, he may never be fit enough to continue as a SEAL. Lieutenant Martinez, you now have command.”
The team leader from Boat two stood. “Sir, the mission is incomplete. We don’t have the yacht and we don’t have Romanov.”
The debriefing officer smiled. “That’s true, but we are searching for him high, wide and handsome. Once we find him we may need you again. After this I want you all to get as much sleep as you can to be ready for Phase Two when it comes.”
Andrei held up a hand.
“Yes Mr. Popov?”
“I have been thinking about why Romanov would draw attention to himself with this foolish second attack on a city. Knowing the man as I do, I think it is a decoy to give him time to get away in his yacht while we are focussed here. He must have known this would not take long so I think he must be hiding nearby waiting for the search to end.”
Duggan looked at him. “That thought had occurred to us, but it is useful to have it confirmed by someone who knows our target. Have you any ideas where he might hide? Have you heard any mention of islands or ports?”
Andrei shook his head. “Sadly, I have nothing to give you. But it will have been well planned and prepared for sure. Romanov always prepares. There must be somewhere nearby where a yacht of that size could be hidden. It will not be easy to find, I think.”
Beyond the steel sides of the assault ship the massive assets of the US and its allies scoured the Caribbean. Ships plowed search courses. Large numbers of aircraft crossed and re-crossed the area, passing in and out of other national airspaces with the ready agreement of the various governments. Radio intercept stations scanned for signals and satellites took hundreds of photographs at each pass. The intelligence coordination center in the Pentagon sifted the mass of data and came up with nothing. They were forced to report, to an increasingly irritable President Barker, that Romanov had vanished from the face of the earth and that even the huge defense budget had not provided equipment that could find his vessel.
Chapter 47
Miles away from the assault ship and light years away from the trouble around him, Winston Royale was pulling in the last fish of the night, singing an old Bob Marley song quietly to himself. A moonless night like this one was a gift. It made the light he dangled over the side of his small boat even more attractive to the reef fish that swam toward it looking for food. Around his feet he had a fine array of fish that would be in the hands of the chefs in the big hotels on the beach of his home island before the rich tourists had finished their breakfast. He pulled the wet tarpaulin over his catch to keep the fish cool and fresh and turned to start his ancient Seagull outboard motor.
He was winding the rope around the pulley ready to yank the two stroke engine into life when he heard the low rumble of another engine and saw the black shape on the water behind him. He struggled to his feet and stared over the stern of his small boat. There were no lights and only that rumbling sound, then an area of blackness that had no stars in it. He strained his eyes to see what it might be. Then the powerful floodlight came on. It was mounted near the stern of what he could now see was a large expensive motor yacht. He had seen others like it in the harbor of his home island over the years. He had even sold some fish to the cooks on such beautiful boats though they were careful never to let him on board. He watched as the lovely ship slowly reversed into Black Beard’s cave.
They must have known about the sharp turn inside that cave and needed to see where they were going, he thought. It must be important for them to go into that cave and risk the jagged rocks, or maybe they were just more foolish tourists. He had seen many of those, on their expensive boats over the years. He watched for a few minutes longer until the boat vanished from view and then waited until the light went out inside the cave. Now that was a light that would bring fish from miles around, he thought.
He turned back to his own business and pulled the old motor into life. He settled himself down on the rear thwart for the trip home. He would have a good story to tell his friends this fine morning when he got back into port.
Chapter 48
The debrief was quick, effective and without any fuss. They trooped down through the ship’s passages to the canteen for a very welcome American breakfast, then went to their allocated bunks. They slept like babies, but not until their weapons and equipment had been cleaned, checked and repacked. The full team, including Jim’s group, were awakened and returned to the briefing room some hours later. The briefing officer from the Pentagon had news for them.
As they settled into the chairs at the front of the room he said, “Cutting to the chase, we think we have found the yacht. Mr. Popov seems to have guessed correctly about Romanov’s intentions. We have a report from one of the island police forces about a fisherman who was telling a story, in which he says he saw the yacht being taken into a sea cave an hour before dawn … about the time that you were completing the clearance of the island. He only saw it because they had to turn on the lights to find their way around the bend in the cave. The intelligence analysts are in agreement with Andrei that they are waiting in the cave until the search is called off. Apart from that one old fisherman with sharp eyes they might have made it too. The local police chief for that island group tells us that the cave goes a long way back and they would not have been seen from outside.”
Options were discussed and the Marine preferences for an assault were decided against. The SEAL officer stated, “The President wants Romanov alive if possible and he wants the material looted from New York intact. An assault, Marine style, would put those two things at risk. Additionally, there is not a lot of room in a cave for a full on assault without major risk of casualties to our people. Apparently the thinking is that a lot of this stuff belongs to the mob and lots of other people with something to hide. The President wants to see if he can use it to damage them. So, gentlemen, we think we are back to you. You are the nearest prepared SEAL team and you owe this guy, so I assume you are motivated.”
The low growl of assent from the assembled young men made it obvious that he had that part right.
“Major Wilson,” he continued, “your people of course do not need to take part in the initial attack. We can hold you back from this until this team have secured the boat.”
There was a silence as Jim looked round at the other three. Each one nodded in response to his unvoiced question.
He stood to reply, but Martinez was on his feet first. “Sir, with respect. These four are part of this mission and they have proved to be effective. If they will go we would like them along to watch our backs again.”
The briefing officer swiveled his gaze around to Jim who said, “Thank you for that,” to Martinez. He then looked back at Duggan, “We would be honored to remain part of this team for a little longer. We want to finish this and we still have to pay back for our part in enabling the tragedy in New York.”
The SEAL officer smiled. “I thou
ght you might say that. I take it you are all accomplished SCUBA divers as well?”
The Marine Assault Ship was under way and by the feel of the vibration through the deck plates she was making best speed. The full team were called back to a second briefing two hours later. Aerial reconnaissance of the cave had revealed nothing; the yacht was too far back inside to be seen. There were no available charts of the inside of the cave, but if it was deep enough for the yacht it was deep enough for divers. The water in that area is crystal clear so moving in during daylight would be highly dangerous as the divers could be seen from the deck or from any lookout position in the rocks. That was why the ship was on the move.
The intention was to put the SEAL team as close to the target as possible before launching. The ship would therefore move to a position below the horizon from the island. Using helicopters to get closer would not be advisable as the cave itself would amplify the sound of the rotors and warn those inside. The sophisticated communications equipment on the trawler had been examined and it was assumed that something similar or better would be installed on the yacht. In which case they would have been able to monitor transmissions and would know by now that the island assault had been a success. They would know too that a major search for the yacht was underway. To make sure that there was no suspicion that they had been found, ships and aircraft were still pretending to scour the Caribbean and transmitting negative reports as they went.
Martinez took Jim and his team down to the equipment space after the briefing. “I guess you know as much about diving as you do about parachuting?”
Andrei nodded. “Nobody swims in the Moscow River by choice,” he said, “and to swim under the surface makes no sense. I think I would meet too many old friends there.”