African Firestorm

by Craig Reed

  "Forty-seven minutes ago. Last satellite photo I got shows both ships there two hours ago."

  "So we can eliminate all ships farther out than eighty miles from the coast," Tanner said.

  "In this neck of the woods, not many ships will be within a couple of hundred miles, even at night," Liam pointed out.

  Tanner checked the radar screen. "I've got two ships on radar. Both to the northeast. One is fifty miles away, the other one is thirty."

  "Can you tell which one is the Northstar?" Liam asked.

  "Not at this range…Axiam, steer a course between the two ships. We can get a better idea of who's who once we're close enough."

  "Assuming they don't blow us out of the air first.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

  Aboard the Saad el Melik

  The buzz of the radio on Bakir Riyad's belt cut into the Colonel's thoughts. The bridge of the freighter, a rusting and tired old ship acquired from a Bangladesh ship-breaking yard, was cramped and reeked from years of body odor, food, and the sea. He unclipped the radio from his belt and spoke into it. "Riyad here."

  "Narsai, sir. Are you picking up a contact on your radar? We’re getting something, but it's intermittent."

  Riyad turned toward the Saad el Melik's captain. "Check the radar.”

  Kashgari studied the radar screen. At length, he nodded. "Radar contact. Aircraft, probably a helicopter. It's coming from the northwest."

  Riyad frowned. "What is its course?"

  "Roughly between us and the Northstar Venture."

  "Where are the enemy warships?"

  "Three are two hundred kilometers to the southeast, one a hundred kilometers to the north, and five three hundred and fifty kilometers to the east. They're— Wait!"

  Kashgari's tone became more strident. "The three warships to the southeast have changed course, moving onto an intercept heading with the Northstar Venture! The helicopter has also altered direction toward the ship."

  "Nationality?"

  "American."

  The colonel's frown became a scowl as he spoke into the transmitter. "Narsai, go to full alert and prepare to repel borders. We are increasing speed to come to your aid. Tell Dr. Masood to prepare the missiles for launch."

  "That will take hours."

  "Tell him to do it faster," Riyad growled. "The enemy is converging on you. Those missiles cannot be allowed to fall into enemy hands. Do you understand?"

  "Yes sir," Narsai acquiesced. "Do you think it's the Iranians?"

  Riyad thought back to the Yemeni guard in Eyl. "No. Just hold them off, Saleh. Do not surrender and do not let those missiles be taken."

  Riyad broke the connection and opened his eyes wide at Kashgari. The air inside the bridge was heavy with tension. "We cannot catch up with them. Maintain course. How long to prepare the Termits for launch?"

  In the role as Northstar's escort, the Saad el Melik carried a missile launcher and four P-15 Termits missiles. Designated by NATO as SS-N-2 Styx, the Termits were obsolete by today's standards of anti-ship missiles, but they were still powerful enough to sink a warship.

  And the Northstar wasn't even a warship.

  "An hour," Kashgari said.

  "Begin preparations. If it looks like the Americans are taking the ship and the Baburs are not launched, we will sink the Northstar. How deep are the waters in this part of the ocean?"

  The ship captain walked over to the chart table and stared it for a few seconds.

  "We're in luck.” He motioned Riyad over. "We are still over the Somali Basin. The average depth is thirty-six hundred meters. If the Northstar sinks within the next six hours, the Americans will not be able to retrieve the warheads."

  Riyad stared at the map for a few seconds, then nodded.

  "Good. May Allah stay our hand and grant our brethren the strength to fire those missiles."

  Northstar Venture

  Saleh Narsai's emotional state was somewhere between fear, anger and determination. He put the satellite phone down and activated the ship's intercom.

  "Attention, soldiers of Allah!" he began, his voice echoing throughout the ship. "Arm yourselves and prepare to repel infidel borders. Anti-aircraft teams: to your stations! Dr. Masood: report to the bridge at once!"

  Narsai turned to the three men on the bridge. "Arm yourselves. The colonel is coming to our aid, but until then we are on our own."

  "It's only one helicopter," Musa, who manned the helm, said.

  "That is one helicopter too many," Narsai replied, anger creeping into his tone. "There are naval vessels coming in from the east. The helicopter is either out here to track us, or to land a special forces team on this ship to retake it."

  Musa nodded. "Of course, Captain.”

  "Hold current speed and heading," Narsai directed.

  "What is going on?" Masood demanded as he stepped onto the bridge. His face was scrunched into a tapestry of wrinkles and worry lines.

  "The infidels are tracking this ship," Narsai said. "Colonel Riyad has ordered you to prepare the missiles for launch."

  Masood's eyes widened in shock. "That takes time!"

  Narsai shot the Pakistani an ugly look. "Then you had better start, Doctor."

  "I need to talk to—"

  Narsai’s hand rested on the butt of his pistol. "You have your orders as I have mine. Prepare those missiles now."

  Masood nodded and bolted off the bridge.

  "Seas are getting rougher," Musa said. He glanced at a screen to his left. "Winds are picking up."

  "That works in our favor." Narsai tried to ignore the shiver of fear sluicing down his back and the feeling that something bad was about to happen.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

  From the co-pilot's seat of the helicopter, Tanner glanced at the radar and then raised a pair of binoculars to stare through them into the darkness ahead.

  "Got it," he said to Axiam. "Twenty miles ahead."

  Axiam eyeballed his instruments. "Winds are increasing. If they get any stronger, it's going to be a real rough ride in this tub." The Somali looked at the radar again, then at Tanner. "Hang onto your shorts, people!"

  The Hip rose a couple of hundred feet. On the horizon, Tanner saw a light. On the radar he saw the blip corresponding to the light’s source.

  He pointed to the illumination. "That's it.

  Axiam nodded and said something in Somali. Tanner turned to look back into the cargo compartment. Both Geedi and Madar were preparing the machine guns for action, loading them with belt-fed 12.7mm ammo.

  "Wilson!"

  Tanner turned back to look at Axiam. "Behind my seat is a box of flares. Take them back to my cousins."

  Tanner did as he was asked. Madar nodded and took the box, the noise inside the aircraft making unaided conversation impossible. Madar carried the flares to the back of the compartment. Curious, Tanner followed.

  Madar placed the box next to a door the size of a welcome mat in the floor. He used a welded handle to open the lid. Beneath lay a honeycomb-like structure, angled toward the rear of the Hip. Madar opened the box and quickly placed flares into each honeycomb.

  A tap on the shoulder made Tanner turn to see Geedi standing there. The Somali motioned toward the cockpit with his thumb. Tanner nodded and rejoined Axiam in the cockpit, donning the headset again as he took the co-pilot's seat.

  "Infrared countermeasures?" he asked.

  Axiam shrugged. "Enough people don't like me, and most don't care about how I die. I've been nearly shot out of the air a couple of times by anti-aircraft missiles. I managed to kludge something together and it's worked so far."

  The light on the sea was now much brighter, bright enough for Tanner to see it wasn't a single light, but a number of closely grouped bulbs on a ship. He raised a set of binoculars and viewed the vessel. Tarps had been placed over two areas between the stacks forward of the superstructure, and those spaces were lit up. But he was too far away to see anything else.

  "We have to get closer," he said into
the radio.

  "How much closer?" Axiam demanded.

  "Close enough to see what going on under those tarps forwards of the superstructure."

  "I don't like it, but it's your funeral. I will do this only once, so make it count."

  "Stephen!" Tanner called out. "Take pictures of the ship as we pass. Concentrate on the forward container stacks."

  "Pictures, copy."

  Axiam pulled back on the collective. "Everyone make sure your seat belts are tight and your trays are upright because the ride is about to become rough." He then spoke rapidly in Somali, presumably the same warning to his cousins.

  Tanner pulled the restraint harness around him and fastened it tight.

  Liam said over the intercom, "Ready back here."

  Axiam dropped the Hip until it was only twenty-five feet above the waves, the water spraying in their wake as they raced toward the container ship at better than a hundred miles an hour. The ship grew larger in the windshield, and with their angle of approach, Tanner could read the ship's name on the stern. The ship continued moving northeast, showing no sign that they had noticed the approaching helicopter.

  Four miles from the Northstar, Axiam turned the Hip left, onto a parallel course, and slowing the helicopter. As they flew past the ship, Tanner used the binoculars again to view the vessel.

  There were people on top of the superstructure. As they flew past, Tanner saw two of the figures raise tubes, place them on their shoulders and point them at the Hip.

  "Incoming!" Tanner shouted as first one, then a second missile streaked from the shoulder launchers.

  Axiam snarled something in Somali. He increased their speed and banked hard away from the ship as he clawed for altitude. Tanner heard several "pops" from somewhere below and behind him, but he was more intent on the two missiles hurtling toward them. From somewhere below the Hip, there was bright light that Tanner could only see the edges of.

  The missiles suddenly swung away from the ‘copter and toward the light. Seconds later there was an explosion and the Hip was pushed even higher and faster, then dropped like a roller coaster. Tanner felt numb as his stomach dropped.

  Axiam, his face grim with concentration, fought the helicopter as it dropped. He gained control and guided their craft away from the ship at wave-top.

  Tanner inhaled deeply, bring himself under control again. "I think we found the right ship," he said after a few seconds.

  "Ya think?" Axiam growled.

  "Everyone back there all right?" Tanner turned in his seat to look.

  "Did you know I hate roller coasters?" Naomi said.

  "I think I left my stomach back there," Dante chimed in.

  "We're fine," Liam said. "What the hell happened?"

  "Somebody had man-portable anti-aircraft missiles aboard the ship," Tanner said.

  "I'm guessing SA-7s," Axiam said. "Number three on the wacko terrorist list of must-have weapons, right after AKs and RPGs." He glanced at the radar. "They only have a range of about four kilometers, so as long as we stay no closer than five kilometers, we should be okay."

  "Stephen, did you get those pics?" Tanner asked.

  "I got a few shots off before we got out of there."

  "Give the SD card to Danielle. I'm coming back there."

  Northstar Venture

  Narsai scanned the water around his ship, searching for any sign of the escaped helicopter. The bridge was dark, with only the control panel indicator lights to supply illumination. He lowered his binoculars, his eyes boring into the radar screen.

  There was a blip, intermittent, off to his port, twenty or thirty kilometers out. Large waves rose and fell, increasing in size with each passing hour, and he could feel the deck shift under his feet.

  The satellite phone buzzed, and Narsai picked it up, knowing who was calling.

  "What is happening?" Riyad demanded, his tone harsh.

  "The helicopter dropped flares and avoided the missiles. We think it's somewhere off our port side. We'll be ready for its next attack."

  "You should have let it get closer."

  "It veered away before we shot the missiles at it. I think they were trying to locate the warheads while staying outside of machine-gun range. I'm not sure they knew we had the Strellas."

  "Do not assume," Riyad said in a lecturing tone. "I doubt they are going to assault the ship on their own. There are American ships closing in on your position. They'll be there within twelve hours."

  "Your orders for me, sir?"

  Riyad was silent for a few seconds, then said, "I am not a sailor, Saleh. You know the ship and the crew you command. I leave the decision to you. If you cannot execute DESERT WIND, execute SANDSTORM instead. The targets are still in place."

  Narsai swallowed, a trickle of fear running through him. "I understand, sir."

  "Whatever happens, do not let them capture the missiles. Is that understood?"

  "Yes sir. I will scuttle the ship before that happens."

  "Good. Allah be with you, my friend."

  "Peace be with Him, and you too, sir."

  "Good-bye."

  Narsai walked over to the chart table and consulted the map there. He would stick with the original plan for now, but he needed a second target, something that he could fire at if it became clear that the Abu Dhabi mission could no longer be completed. As tempting as it would be to fire the missiles at the warships to the east, they were too far away and possessed serious countermeasures. There was no cities close enough that would allow them to make the statement the colonel wanted to make.

  But the colonel had a backup plan, SANDSTORM, and that target was the Port of Salalah, on the southern coast of Oman. A regular port of call for the infidel warships, it currently hosted a pair of French destroyers, a Finnish frigate and the big prize — an American amphibious assault ship. SANDSTORM was a contingency in case the aircraft carrier was not in Dubai during the time window.

  Now, it looked like it might be the best target.

  Narsai straightened. "Musa, Increase speed to twenty-five knots."

  "Yes, sir."

  The ICA captain stepped away from the chart table and resumed searching for the helicopter. If it came down to it, he would launch SANDSTORM, but for now, he had a ship to defend.

  "Kalid," he said into his radio. "I want a four-man team up here on the bridge, now."

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

  In the cargo compartment of the helicopter, Tanner, Liam, and Danielle were huddled around the laptop, staring intently at the pictures Stephen had taken. The Hip was seven kilometers away from the ship, flying less than ten meters above the shifting waters of the Indian Ocean. The rest of the team sat on the benches, watching them.

  The former CIA agent had concentrated on the forward stacks and whatever was under them. The first three images showed little in the way of useful information, as the angle was wrong. The fourth depicted something under the tarp, something that looked like scaffolding.

  But the last two pictures revealed information. The fifth shot allowed them to see that the scaffolding was actually a launch rail, with a missile perched on the rail. The final photo captured another missile on a launch rail adjacent to the first.

  "Son of a bitch," Liam whispered.

  "What can you tell us about them, Dani?" Tanner asked.

  Danielle peered at the screen. "They look like cruise missiles. I'm guessing a max range of a thousand miles, probably less. And…" She tapped the screen. "Missile warheads."

  "They're getting ready to use them," Liam said. "But on what?"

  Tanner looked at Danielle. "The Northstar was heading for Doha, right? ISIL has no love for the Iranians. Maybe they decided to strike at Iran?"

  Danielle shook her head. "Look at the missiles. They're aimed off the port side, not the starboard side. Unless they're planning to turn the ship around, whatever the target is, it's across from Iran."

  "United Arab Emirates is across from Iran," Liam noted. "So are Saudi Arabia, Oman and Qata
r." He pulled a map of the Middle East from his cargo pocket and unfolded it. "These guys want to make a big splash with a major target."

  He put his fingers on the map over Saudi Arabia. "These countries are scared shitless that ISIL will come after them next, so they've been active in trying to stop them."

  "I think you can rule out Qatar," Stephen said. "It's a major funding source for ISIL, and they won't risk it. Yemen’s has no major targets."

  Tanner pulled out his satellite phone. "I'm calling Casey. We need more data."

  Casey answered on the second ring. "What do you have?"

  "We have two nuclear-tipped missiles on the Northstar Venture, and the ship is crewed by ICA tangos. We're e-mailing you the pictures we took."

  Casey swore. "Any ideas on the target?"

  "We think it's in the UAE, Oman, or Saudi Arabia. We need your help narrowing down the possible targets."

  "Let me make a few phone calls and get back to you." Casey hung up.

  Tanner looked at the others. "Time for some quick thinking."

  Aboard the Saad el Melik

  On the bridge, Riyad watched the radar intently. For a moment he considered sending Ilshu to help Narsai, but decided against it. The helicopter wasn't armed, and if the other helo was, it would be a waste of men and material. No, he had to let Narsai handle it on his own for now.

  He walked away from the radar and over to the chart table. He compared positions and headings for his ship and that of the Northstar Venture. The Saad el Melik was moving northeast at fifteen knots, ten knots slower than the Northstar and losing ground steadily. The container ship was thirty kilometers ahead of them and pulling away from the older ship.

  Riyad stroked his beard as he considered his options. The American warships racing west were still hours away, too far to prevent Narsai from executing SANDSTORM, even if they did know about the Baburs. But that one helicopter pacing the container ship bothered him.

  "Colonel!" Kashgari shouted.

  Riyad turned to the ship's captain. "What?"

  "Radar is picking up new contacts. They're coming from the American ships."

  The colonel strode over to the radar. Four blips were moving away from the American ships and heading toward the Northstar Venture.