“It’s on the move,” she said.
“So reassuring to know that a huge crate comes in from the Middle East and just cruises right through the seaport unopened,” said Chris.
“Well, a K9 or radiological equipment isn’t going to pick up a block of marble,” she replied.
“I guess,” he said, starting their engine.
When the box truck pulled out of the seaport with the GPS transponder in it, Chris and Julia got close enough to get the license plate and then dropped way back. They didn’t need to tail the vehicle, they could follow it from anywhere, but they did want to know to whom the truck belonged. Julia sent the plate back to Dex Murphy, who advised them that the truck was registered to a Hussam Haddad. He had no criminal history but had overstayed a work visa and was currently living in the United States illegally.
“He’s a nobody,” said Julia, reading his information.
“Until he blows something up,” said Chris quietly.
“Jaded much?” she asked with a smirk.
“As jaded as it gets. Over six billion people on this planet, and I only like about twenty of them.”
“Glad I made the cut,” she said.
“You’re number one on the list,” he replied. “He’s heading to her place near Boston. Long drive. You might as well catch some Zs.”
“I’m good. We can use the next five hours for you to tell me about how much you love me and want to marry me.”
“Five hours might not be enough,” he said.
“Oh, man. That was the right answer! You might win a prize!”
“While I’m driving?” he asked with an evil grin.
“You wish. Eyes on the road, mister.”
Up ahead, a very excited Hussam Haddad sped along in the bumpy truck, anxious to get a thousand dollars cash for delivering the statue. His partner in the truck would get an almost even share of two hundred dollars.
Chapter 34
South China Sea
The USS John Warner was at mast depth observing the three Chinese warships in the distance. From his command chair, Commander Vince Norman made notes on the three ships being tracked. The crew was practicing a firing drill with torpedoes.
“Skipper, we’ve got strobes from the rig,” said Master Chief Adams.
The skipper panned his joystick on his console and, sure enough, saw the lights flashing on the oil platform.
“Bad timing,” he said to himself. He typed out an encrypted burst message to the team on the rig.
USSJW observes your strobe. Status?
McCoy was still at the console when the e-mail signal flashed. He was so excited he screamed out loud. “Hey! Hey! I got ’em!” he screamed into his headset.
“Who? The sub?” asked Moose from the lower deck.
“Affirmative, skipper! They’re asking our status. They saw the strobes.”
“All right, well, tell them! We’ve got a man down at six hundred feet and we need their help immediately!”
“I’m on it, out!”
Pete began typing as fast as his fingers would move.
Sunrise has one diver down, trapped at 600 feet. Diver is in an ADS 2000 Newtsuit. He has air and is conscious but can’t get out from under the jet wreckage. Two broken arrows are secured and currently suspended at 500 feet from cables beneath our rig. Can you help us rescue our diver? We have no other means. He’s been down eighteen hours.
McCoy hit “send” and prayed.
Back on the submarine, the commander read the incoming message and groaned. “XO!”
Commander Burdge hopped up from his own console and moved to the skipper’s chair.
“The Sunrise has a SEAL diver trapped at six hundred feet in an atmospheric suit. He’s stable but unable to extricate himself from the wreckage of that jet with the broken arrows. You have the bridge.” He grabbed his PA mic and instructed his crew. “Attention on deck. Suspend all drills. We have a new mission. This is not a drill. US special operations has a diver down at six hundred feet. Rescue team meet in my ready room, out.”
The skipper hustled back to his small ready room as it filled up with his rescue divers and support team. Within five minutes, eight sailors were crammed into the skipper’s room.
“Gentlemen, we have a special operations team working on a clandestine mission off an oil platform in six hundred feet of water. That team is on station to recover two nuclear weapons from a downed aircraft. Their diver is trapped under the wreckage. He’s wearing an ADS 2000 and has air, but he’s been down pushing twenty hours. If the batteries go on his suit, he’s a dead man. I need a plan put together to rescue their diver. There are also two nuclear devices suspended by cables which will have to be recovered, but not by us. Chief, if you’ve got ideas, I need them now.”
Master Chief Karl White was the commanding officer of the sub’s rescue diver team. The USS John Warner had a few tricks up her sleeve that older submarines didn’t, including the ability to launch a small mini-sub for special operations with SEAL teams.
Karl and his team had practiced and drilled too many times to count for events like this. His answer was immediate. “Sir, I’d like to deploy the UUV first for reconnaissance. It would also reassure the diver to know that we’re on station.”
The Unmanned Undersea Vehicle was “the drone of the sea” and could do everything an aerial drone could do.
“Once we see his condition, we’ll deploy the mini-sub with our own deep-water diver to cut him out. We’ll have to recover him here and figure out about getting him to his team afterwards.”
“Time frame?” asked the skipper.
“Put us on the diver and we’re good to go. The UUV is ready to deploy and we can have the mini-sub launched in fifteen minutes.”
“Okay, that’s it. You’re on.” The skipper grabbed his phone that flashed up on the bridge.
“Bridge,” replied his XO.
“This is the captain. Get us to 550 feet near Lima November. We’re preparing to deploy the UUV on site followed by the mini-sub for a diver rescue. There are suspended cables with two nukes hanging from them that may not show up on our sonar, so keep back a thousand meters. Out.”
“Aye, aye, skipper! Heading to Lima November, making depth 550 feet!”
The submarine silently angled nose-down and slipped into the dark world of the deep ocean, quickly heading to where Jon Cohen lie on his back shivering, staring out in the blackness, wondering if he was going to die.
Chapter 35
Kampong Aht
With Zyy guiding them through the thick jungle, the seven men and one woman moved as quietly as they could through the thick, steamy afternoon heat. The rain would come down in torrents, then quickly stop, only to return a short time later. The mosquitoes attacked them in clouds, and the mud tried to suck the boots off of their feet, except for Zyy and his two tribemates, who had never owned shoes.
No one spoke. Occasionally, Kevin would look at Val, or vice versa, to offer some silent encouragement in the form of a smile. Their enthusiasm overcame their fear and discomfort. They stopped several times for water or to rest, but for the most part they kept up their pace single-file through the jungle.
The sounds of the jungle grew so loud at one point that Kevin pulled his camera back out and began filming. Monkeys and birds were screaming overhead, and insects buzzed past their ears.
“We’re heading further south . . .” Kevin whispered as he videoed. He was quickly told to be silent by an angry Wie, and he cut tape. Val shrugged. It would make for good B-roll or background. Oh well.
After almost two hours of arduous walking, the sounds of the jungle suddenly ceased, and Zyy squatted down in the trail. Everyone behind him stopped and also squatted down to wait. Zyy cocked his head and listened, then whispered to his men, and finally to Wie.
Wie translated in a
whisper to Kevin and Valerie Jean. “We’re very close. We’re going to move ahead and scout the kampong. You two wait here! No filming!”
The three villagers and three rangers moved ahead silently toward Aht. Kevin and Val looked at each other. She started to protest not going with them, but Kevin put a finger over his lips and held up two fingers. She smiled.
Two minutes later, he took off the lens cap and aimed it at Val. “Real quiet,” he said. “Three, two . . .” he pointed at her.
“This is Valerie Jean Kozak reporting from the deepest jungle,” she whispered. “We’re just outside Kampong Aht. We’re here to investigate the reported massacre of the local indigenous population known as the Penan people. Another tribe from a nearby village stumbled across the massacre and reported it to the local rangers while we happened to be at the station, and they’ve allowed us to accompany them on this dangerous journey.
“As we traveled down river, we came across multiple bodies that had been riddled with bullet holes, in an area that has never seen rifles before. Who would do such a thing to such peaceful people? Stay tuned as we try to uncover the mystery of the jungle massacre!”
“Cut!” said Kevin. He was so excited he could barely contain himself. “Hang on, I want to send this out now. Let me see if I can get a satellite uplink.”
It took a few minutes, but sure enough, even in the deepest jungle of a third world country, he was able to broadcast a video off of a satellite thousands of miles away. “God, I love this new camera!” he said to Val. “That film’s already at NatGeo and our cloud account! I have a guy at CNN I know, too. I’m sending him that clip to his mail. This is real news, Val! This could be huge! And no one has this story in the whole damn world other than us.”
She beamed with excitement. “I’m a mess, though. It’s not exactly a great first impression.”
“Are you kidding me? You’re gorgeous! And having some dirt on your face in the middle of the jungle makes you look like a war correspondent! This is great stuff!”
“I have dirt on my face? Seriously? Why didn’t you say anything?” She wiped her sweaty face with the back of her hand and pulled her blonde hair behind her ears.
Kevin leaned in and kissed her. “You’re beautiful. Stop it. Now come on, let’s follow those guys before they get too far ahead.”
The two of them jogged through the jungle, fighting thorned bushes and vines as they followed the footprints. They hadn’t followed the trail for more than ten minutes when the sound of machine gun fire roared over the silence of the jungle. The two of them froze and quickly squatted down into the foliage. Kevin fumbled with his camera, slightly panicked as the gunfire grew louder and steadier. It sounded like an all-out war.
“Hurry!” whispered Val.
Kevin switched his camera to the “live” setting, which meant it would be uploading in real time as he shot the film. He was afraid he might not have time to sit and get a signal if they were on the run. Pointing the camera at her, he held up three fingers, then two, then pointed at her.
Val was whispering, close to the lens. “We’re back, just outside of Aht. As you can hear, there’s machine gun fire coming from the village. We’re going to try and get closer and see what’s happening!”
Kevin looked at her, horrified. “Are you fucking daft?”
It was too late. Val ran down the jungle trail toward the sound of the gunfire. Kevin, although terrified and totally against the idea, had no choice but to follow his girlfriend. They ran along the trail to the sound of the gunfire, which came to an abrupt halt.
“Shit!” said Val, ducking into the bushes. “There!” she whispered to Kevin. He pressed the “record” button and zoomed in on the village of Aht, built on stilts over the river. A large black flag with Arabic lettering fluttered in the breeze.
“Fucks’s sake, Val! That’s an ISIS flag!”
“Are you getting this?” she whispered.
“Hurry! We need to get out of here! Where the hell are our people?”
Kevin zoomed in on the flag, then pulled back and panned over to Val. She whispered into the lens. “This is Valerie Jean Kozak, reporting from Kampong Aht in southern Brunei in the Labi Forest Reserve. We’ve just uncovered what looks to be an ISIS training facility while investigating a report of a massacre of local villagers!”
“Hey!” whispered Kevin, pointing. He kept his camera rolling as a group of men with guns walked out of the jungle toward the village with Wie and one of the villagers. Wie and the native looked terrified, even from a hundred yards away.
Two Arabic-looking men walked out to the group, and they all began speaking rapidly with animated gestures. The man with the gun aimed at Wie pointed in the general direction of Kevin and Val.
“Shit. We need to get out of here,” said Kevin, still filming live.
“Not yet! They have Wie. We need to see what they’re doing.”
What they were doing suddenly became very clear. One of the Arabic men grabbed Wie and held him by his arms from behind. The other man pulled a knife from his belt, grabbed Wie by his black hair, and slit his throat. Not satisfied with merely killing him, he kept sawing and hacking until he managed to severe Wie’s head from his body. This brought a cheer from the other men as Hamdi held up the head.
The Penan villager pushed away from the soldier holding him and tried to run. He didn’t get more than five steps before multiple AK-47s began firing and cut him down. This was also met with thunderous applause.
The same man, Hamdi, that had decapitated Wie quickly moved to the Penan man and cut off his head as well. The others quickly cut bamboo and shoved the poles into the ground, mounting the heads on top.
Kevin grabbed Val by the hand and pulled her along as he began running through the jungle back the way they had come.
Chapter 36
Chestnut Hill, West of Boston
“You buying me a house here?” asked Julia sarcastically.
“Yeah. Right after we steal that statue and sell it on the black market. Wow. There must be one golf course per capita up here.”
“It’s amazing. And this is just one of her houses?”
“Secretary of state must pay better than senior chief.”
“There’s no way we can follow this guy to the house. All of these places have gates and security guards and there are zero random cars just passing through. Jeez. Look at the size of these houses,” said Julia, in awe.
“Gotta be every bit of twenty thousand square feet. All brick? Pool? Not too shabby.”
Julia began typing a hundred miles an hour on her laptop.
“What are you doing?” asked Chris.
“One sec,” she said, still typing. “Okay—I found one!”
“Found one what?”
“Found us a house. Twenty-six million. How much do you have saved up?”
Chris smiled. “Enough to pay the groundskeeper for two weeks.”
“Okay, plus all my money, so that makes it three weeks. Should I call the real estate broker?”
“No. Call Dex. Give him the rundown. I’m cutting out of here. We stand out like a sore thumb. I knew I should have rented a Maserati.”
“Told ya,” she teased.
She called Dex’s private secure cell phone back in Langley from her own encrypted cell phone.
“Hey Jules, where y’at?” he snapped.
“We are in a very nice neighborhood where Chris is going to buy me a house so I can have ten or fifteen kids. A place called Chestnut Hill.”
“Yeah, that’s her main residence. Look, just try and snap a picture of the truck going through the gate. Can you do that?”
“You got it, boss. Then what?”
Dex thought for a moment. “Then nothing. Go to Boston and have fun for a couple of days on the Company card. E-mail me the picture.”
Julia smiled a
t Chris. “We have a hot date. One picture, and we’re out of here.”
She reached out and held his hand as they circled back to time their passing of the truck at the gate. Julia watched the GPS moving around the block and instructed Chris, who sped up and went around the corner. Julia casually fixed her eye makeup using her phone like a compact makeup mirror as they passed the truck, which she photographed.
“Best assignment we ever had,” she said. “This is so much better than getting shot at in the jungle.”
Chapter 37
USS John Warner
Chief White and two of his men set the UUV inside the chamber from which it would be deployed. The UUV weighed a hundred pounds, with most of the weight coming from the batteries, propeller, and lights. It could also be armed with explosives and used as a guided weapon, but in this case, it was for reconnaissance only.
The chief went through the checklist with his bosun, Charlie Decker, and once satisfied the UUV was ready to go, they closed the watertight vault door of the deployment compartment located just above the nose of the sub on the top deck.
They flooded the compartment and then opened the outside hatch remotely. Chief White sat at a console next to his assistant, Bosun Decker. Decker would be steering the ship, and Karl would be operating the camera for live video feed with a separate joystick.
The UUV had extremely powerful LED lights that didn’t use much power, but lit up the black ocean for a distance of almost fifteen yards. Using the GPS location provided to them by the skipper, who knew the original location of the jet wreckage, they guided the UUV at twelve knots.
The USS John Warner remained motionless at 550 feet as the UUV dived deeper and traveled away from her. Back on the bridge, the skipper watched the same video feed that Chief White was watching.
“Forty yards from our mark and closing,” said Bosun Decker quietly. “Cables to our port side.”
“Steady as she goes,” replied the chief, now scanning back and forth with his camera.
Dangerous Ground: The Team Book Five Page 11