Black Sea Affair

by Don Brown

  "General, Article 17 provides that no physical or mental torture, nor any other form of coercion, may be inflicted on prisoners of war to secure from them information of any kind whatever. Prisoners of war who refuse to answer may not be threatened, insulted, or exposed to unpleasant or disadvantageous treatment of any kind.

  "This tribunal seeks, by this trial, to force information from my client that he is not required to give."

  The general slammed his fist on that table. "But your client is no prisoner of war. There is no war between our countries, at least not yet. Plus he has not been tortured."

  "I disagree with you, General. The Geneva Accords provide a broad definition of what constitutes a prisoner of war."

  Zack raised his voice to speak over the uproar in the courtroom.

  "In fact, Article 4 of the Third Geneva Convention protects captured military personnel, and even some civilians and guerrilla fighters. It applies from the moment a prisoner is captured until he is released or repatriated.

  "One of the main provisions requires that a prisoner only give his name, date of birth, rank, and ser vice number.

  "This tribunal puts my client in the position of having to give more information than just his name, date of birth, rank, and ser vice number in order to defend himself. And that, General, is a violation of international law and is a violation of the Geneva Accords. Therefore, this action should be dismissed and my client and his crew should be afforded full protection to which they are entitled pursuant to the Geneva Accords. I have a brief here, with copies in Russian, English, French, German, Italian, and Spanish, which outlines our position under the norms of international law." Zack waved copies of the briefs in the air for the international press to see.

  The Russian translation rang throughout the courtroom. Another murmuring arose from the crowd. Journalists furiously scribbled notes, as the three flag officers conferred among themselves. General Prokofiev, in particular, was red-faced, and was banging his fists on the table in the front of the courtroom.

  Zack did not expect them to grant his motion. He was hoping against hope. But raising the Geneva Accords, he hoped, would at least slow down the steamroller. Maybe, just maybe he could buy the U.S.

  Navy enough time to find this mysterious Egyptian freighter – if such a freighter really existed. All he could do was stall. And pray.

  General Smirnov looked out at Zack and snarled, "Commander Brewer, you may approach with your brief. Bring us the copies in Russian, please."

  "Yes, sir, General." Zack picked up three of the copies that had been translated into Russian and walked across the marble floors to the table, where the three officers sat.

  They each met him with icy stares as he approached. He nodded at each, laid the briefs on the tables before them, then quickly pivoted around into the glare of television lights and returned to counsel table.

  They flipped through the pages, shook their heads, and huddled again. Their below-the-breath comments appeared heated, almost as if they were arguing with one another.

  Finally General Smirnov stood. "Commander Brewer, the panel has considered your motion and we find it to be without merit. However, out of our great respect for the Geneva Conventions, and because the Russian Federation is a party to those accords, we are going to take a recess to study the matter overnight and to confer with legal counsel."

  "Thank you, General."

  "But let me warn you, Commander, that we will tolerate no more frivolous motions."

  Zack did not respond.

  The panel rose and walked out of the room.

  The White House

  At least Brewer bought us some time, " the president remarked, "which is something we don't have much of."

  "They're sensitive about being accused of violating the Geneva Conventions, " Secretary Mauney said. "At least they want to give the appearance of considering the motion, even if they have already denied it. Great strategy by Brewer."

  "Zack's our best, " Secretary Lopez remarked. "That's why we sent him."

  "That's the truth, " Admiral Ayers added.

  "Director Winstead, do you have that dossier yet?" the president asked, as CIA Director Mitch Winstead walked into the Oval Office with a briefcase in hand. He sat in a circle of chairs occupied by the usual group. Mack noticed that he was drawing anxious stares.

  "Yes, sir, Mr. President. And I think I finally have some answers."

  "Let's have it."

  The CIA director extracted papers from his briefcase, made eye contact with the president, then looked down and began reading bullet points. "This is from sources inside the Egyptian Merchant Marine. Captain Hosni Sadir was born in Cairo. He served in the Egyptian Navy, where he commanded a destroyer homeported out of Alexandria. Our background shows that he is of Chechen origin and has ties there.

  "His grandparents were deported by Stalin with other Islamic Chechens during World War II, and after that, Sadir's family emigrated to Egypt.

  "Despite all that, the family has maintained very close ties to their relatives back in Chechnya. In 1997, when Maskhadov introduced Islamic law to Chechnya, Sadir filed paperwork to move back to Chech-nya. But then, the Russians killed Maskhadov. Then many of Sadir's Chechen relatives were massacared in a Russian attack on a mosque in Grozny."

  There was a brief pause.

  "So Captain Sadir doesn't like the Russians, " National Security Advisor Cynthia Hewitt said.

  "That's an understatement, Miss Hewitt, " Director Winstead replied. "It gets worse."

  "Great, " Mack said. "Let's hear it."

  "We got a copy of the ship's passenger manifest. One of the passengers is a native Chechen named Salman Dudayev."

  "Doesn't ring a bell, " the secretary of state said.

  "Dudayev is an American-trained physicist – he studied at MIT -who had close ties to Maskhadov. Although Chechnya has been considered as Russia's problem, we've maintained a file on this guy because his education and political affiliations puts him in a category of persons who could be very dangerous if weapons-grade uranium or plutonium ever fell into his hands."

  "You are sure Dudayev is on that ship?" the president asked.

  Winstead nodded his head. "Mr. President, we paid a ton of money to get that manifest. We have absolutely no reason to doubt its accuracy, sir."

  "Dear Lord, help us." Mack rubbed his temples. "Is everybody here thinking what I'm thinking?"

  "It's St. Petersburg, " Secretary Lopez said.

  "It's gotta be, " Secretary Mauney nodded in rare agreement with the SECDEF. "This Masha Katovich girl is proving to be reliable."

  "We've got a lot of people there, " Vice President Surber said.

  It came again – that feeling that someone had tossed an icepack on the back of Mack Williams' neck.

  "Should we notify the Russians?" Cynthia Hewitt asked.

  "Won't do any good, " Mack said. "By the time we convince them that they're in danger, St. Petersburg and our crew would already be incinerated."

  "And given our current political climate with them, " Secretary Mauney added, "Moscow would blame a nuclear attack against St. Petersburg on us."

  "Precisely, " Vice President Surber added.

  "Which means we can expect a nuclear retaliation against the United States, " Defense Secretary Lopez said.

  The secretary of state nodded his head in agreement. "We've got to sink this freighter, and we must do it now."

  "And lose the evidence that we need to prove our case to the Russians that we did not sink an innocent civilian freighter?" the national security advisor asked. "We need that evidence for the world to see."

  "Admiral Ayers, " the president said, "can Charlotte stop this freighter and board it without sinking it?"

  "Yes, sir. We have a contingency plan for that option."

  "Let's hear it."

  "We disarm our Mark-48 torps and fire into the ship's propeller. If we get a lucky shot, we disable the prop, leaving her dead in the water. We surface our
SEAL team and board the ship."

  "What happens if they blow the ship before our SEALs can take control?" Vice President Surber asked.

  "That could happen, " Admiral Ayers said, "but they may take a little time to figure out what happened. Hopefully, it's enough."

  "How close are they to St. Petersburg, Admiral?"

  "Close, sir. About thirty miles west of Kotlin Island. Put it this way; they're close enough that if they blew a nuclear device now, depending on the size of the device, it could devastate St. Petersburg. Depending on weather patterns, nuclear fallout could kill hundreds of thousands living along the Gulf of Finland. That includes the city of Helsinki, which is less than two hundred miles to the west, and beyond that, the city of Stockholm, another couple of hundred miles to the west and across the Baltic Sea. The weather will determine who dies, Mr. President. But unlike the Bikini Atoll tests or our tests in Nevada in the early sixties, this is a highly populated area. Hundreds of thousands will die, sir, and we have no control over the weather.

  "We've got a narrow window, Mr. President, " Ayers continued. "Whatever you order, sir, we've got to act fast or we simply won't have enough time."

  "I say sink her, Mr. President, " the vice president said. "We're looking at nuclear holocaust if that ship blows."

  "And we might be looking at nuclear war if we don't produce that plutonium to convince the Russians we didn't sink one of their civilian ships, " the secretary of defense said.

  Mack thought about that. Lord, make my decision the right one.

  "Secretary Lopez, send the orders. Have the Charlotte unarm the Mark-48s. Attack her propeller. Stop her in the water. SEAL team is ordered to board and secure the ship.

  "That is all."

  CHAPTER 31

  The USS Charlotte

  Gulf of Finland

  Skipper, "Let's go, XO!" Puck shouted to Todd Swanson. "Follow me! Officer-of-the-deck, take the conn!"

  "I have the conn, aye, sir."

  Puck bounded out of the control room, with his executive officer in tow. In the radio room, his radio officer was waiting for him with message in hand. Puck ripped the message from the officer's hand and flattened it out in front of a high-wattage reading light.

  EMERGENCY ACTION MESSAGE

  FROM: NATIONAL MILITARY COMMAND CENTER – WASHINGTON, D.C.

  TO: USS CHARLOTTE

  SUBJECT: ACTION MESSAGE REMARKS:

  Intelligence assessments reports Egyptian freighter Al Alamein probably transporting weapons-grade plutonium stolen from Russian arsenal.

  Intelligence further reports Chechen nuclear physicist may be onboard.

  Al Alamein may be transporting active thermonuclear device and may be planning suicide nuclear attack on St. Petersburg, Russia.

  USS Charlotte ordered to disable Al Alamein with unarmed torpedoes.

  SEAL team ordered to seize control of vessel and any nuclear contraband potentially on board.

  Proceed with extreme caution and stealth. In the event of large nuclear blast, the Al Alamein is now within range to destroy St.

  Petersburg.

  Execute orders immediately.

  Captain Puckett handed the message to Todd Swanson. "XO, sound the alarm. Man battle stations. Let's get moving!"

  The Al Alamein Gulf of Finland

  From the bridge of his ship, Captain Hosni Sadir brought his binoculars to his eyes and scanned the eastern horizon, just out front of the bow of his ship. A gray haze hung low over the water in the distance.

  Sadir dropped the binoculars and pointed out. "It's out there somewhere. Kotlin Island. We should be able to see it soon. It's actually part of St. Petersburg, you know."

  "How far are we, Kapitan?" Salman asked.

  "Less than twenty miles to Kotlin Island."

  "I cannot contain my excitement, " Salman said. "We could throw the switch now, and with the power of our bomb, we would destroy everything within a hundred miles. We could wipe out the city of St. Petersburg even now."

  Hosni saw the fire in the young physicist's eyes. "You have done well, my friend."

  "We have done well, Kapitan."

  Hosni brought the binoculars back to his eyes. The haze was fading now. Still, no sign of the low-lying land mass that would mark the entrance to the waterways surrounding St. Petersburg. "Soon, my friend, 9/11 shall be but a footnote on the ash heap of history!" He handed the binoculars to Salman.

  "We are going to kill millions of them, Kapitan." Salman peered through the binoculars. "Allah has brought us this far. We're so close and we can now accomplish our mission. Perhaps we should pull the switch now."

  Hosni touched Salman's shoulders. "Patience, my young friend. Care for a cigarette?"

  "Thank you, " Salman said, as Hosni flicked a red Camel from his pack and handed it to Hosni.

  "Light?"

  "Thank you, Kapitan."

  Hosni ignited his butane lighter and held the flame out. Salman sucked in. "We will burn them alive either way, Salman, whether we pull the switch now or tomorrow." He took a satisfying draw. The nicotine jump-started his adrenaline. "But let history show, Salman, that we sailed the Al Alamein right into the Neva River, brought her up to the very banks of St. Petersburg, and then pulled the switch. I want to see with my eyes all that we shall vaporize."

  St. Nicholas Naval Cathedral St. Petersburg, Russia

  At the front right of the crowded courtroom, Pete Miranda sat between Zack Brewer and his detailed interpreter and Russian defense counsel, Lieutenant Vaslov of the Baltic Sea Fleet. Across the aisle, Major Peter Andropov, the Russian Army prosecutor, sat steely eyed writing notes on a pad.

  "They should be back at any moment, " Zack whispered over the slight roar coming from the back of the courtroom.

  "What do you expect?" Pete asked.

  "I expect they will rule on our motion or at least address it in some way. I don't expect them to dismiss the case."

  "Some sort of face-saving position?"

  "Exactly, " Zack said.

  Lieutenant Commander Zack Brewer was an amazing naval officer, Pete thought. The JAG officer carried a courageous air like Daniel from the Bible. And like Daniel, Zack marched into the lion's den, and with some fancy legal footwork about the Geneva Conventions, at least delayed an inevitable mauling.

  Still, Pete resolved that a mauling was inevitable – that he was going to die. Something told him that his entire crew, and even his JAG officer defense counsel, were all in mortal danger. He was ready if that should happen, but the thought of never seeing Coley and Hannah again was a dagger in his soul.

  "All rise!"

  The three flag officers of the tribunal marched in bearing wrinkled and angry-looking faces.

  "Be seated, " General Igor Smirnov snapped. Wearing thick plastic black-rimmed glasses, he leaned forward at the defense table. "Commander Brewer, we have considered your motion concerning the Geneva Accords." Smirnov paused, almost as if expecting an answer from Brewer. "We shall delay a ruling pending further study and advice by Russian international law attorneys." A slight smile crept across Zack's face. Perhaps they had bought more time, Pete thought.

  "However, " Smirnov continued, "we cannot delay these proceedings. Therefore, we shall allow the prosecution to continue its case and rule upon Commander Brewer's motion at the end of the trial."

  Zack rose. "Objection, General. It is this process that violates Articles 4 and 17 of the Geneva Accords." An explosion of flashes followed.

  The red-faced Russian glared at Zack. "Sit down, Commander, or our guards will remove you from the courtroom and leave your client's defense to Lieutenant Vaslov. I remind you that you are a guest of this country, not a member of its bar."

  "I will sit, but I will not withdraw my objection, " Zack barked.

  "You are in contempt, Commander."

  "Hold me in contempt if you'd like, " Zack snapped. "Proceeding under these circumstances is contemptuous to the Geneva Accords, and every established principle of internatio
nal law."

  "The guards will escort Commander Brewer to the temporary holding facility. This court shall stand in recess for one hour as we work to ensure that the commander receives a full briefing of the procedures and rules of Russian military courts."

  "All rise."

  Pete rose as Zack shucked off the hands of the Russian guards and walked with them voluntarily up into the chancel area, where he disappeared behind a door.

  USS Charlotte Gulf of Finland

  What's our range to the target?" Commander Puckett asked. "The freighter has now opened up a distance of four thousand two hundred yards. That gap is widening, sir."

  "Good, " Puckett said. "That gives us some firing room. Are the Mark-48s unarmed?"

  "Aye, Captain. Torps one and three are unarmed and ready for firing."

  "Very well, " Puck said. "Fire torp one."

  "Firing torp one."

  A swoosh rushed through the boat, as the first Mark-48 torpedo, weighing 3400 pounds and nineteen feet long, popped out the forward torpedo tube and lunged into the water.

  "Fire torp three."

  "Firing torp three."

  Another swooshing pulsation followed.

  "XO, status of SEAL team?"

  "Ready to go in the water at your command, sir, " Lieutenant Commander Todd Swanson said.

  "Very well, " Puck said. "Torp one range to target."

  "Torp one range to target thirty-eight hundred yards and closing."

  "Torp three range to target."

  "Torp three range to target thirty-nine hundred yards and closing."

  The Al Alamein Gulf of Finland

  Kapitan, we are picking up FM radio from Kotlin Island and St. Petersburg!" the radio officer announced.

  "Good." Dadir felt himself smile. "We are nearly at point-blank range."

  Salman Dudayev burst onto the bridge, out of breath. His face was red and contorted.

  "Kapitan, we may have a problem."

  "What, Salman? Is something wrong with our bomb?"

  "No, Kapitan. I have been monitoring Russian broadcasts on the radio, " Salman said. "The Russians are trying an American submarine captain in St. Petersburg for sinking the freighter Alexander Pop-ovich – the same freighter that we got the plutonium from."