Ron Schwartz - The Griffins Heart.txt

by The Griffin's Heart(Lit)

  Pitney watched him work. “That’ll be too late!”

  The captain stood. “Come right zero-two-six.”

  “Sir, that will point us directly at it.”

  “It’ll give us the smallest profile for the missile. Ready the Phalanx.”

  “There it is.” A bridge spotter pointed to a dot in the sky just ahead of them.

  The Phalanx fired in short bursts without success. A second later, the front of the Brittany Shore exploded. Bodies were thrown everywhere, and fire broke out on three different decks. The ship had lost a garage-size section of deck with most of the ship’s nose above the water line gone and a hole on the port side water line the size of a car. The ship was taking on water.

  Rainey grabbed his microphone. “Emergency and fire crews to the forecastle and front deck immediately.”

  “Sir, the radar is back on line and tracking two missiles.”

  Pitney turned. “We should retreat now.”

  “Never order steak unless you’re ready to pay the price. Launch the Sea Sparrows, now.”

  “The first one’s too close,” said the radar operator. “I’ve got a lock on the second one. Uh, sir? Radar has three missile boats bearing six-three-five at six miles and closing.”

  Rainey looked around his ship. “It’s up to you now.”

  The Phalanx was set on auto and began firing at the first missile when it closed to five hundred meters, or eight seconds, away. At fifty meters, less than one second from impact, the missile exploded, showering the deck and emergency crews with debris. Almost simultaneously, the Sea Sparrows launched from the dual quad launcher.

  Pitney rushed toward the captain. “Sir, we’re taking on too much water. We’ve got to slow down.”

  Rainey looked at the charts on the smoke-filled bridge. Glass from the broken windows lay scattered over everything. The ship had wedged herself between the island and the straits. “All engines stop.”

  From this position, the convoy could pass to the west and be fully shielded by the Brittany Shore if she could just continue to fight. The convoy can make it through, Rainey thought, if Lance can just get that radar.

  Lance passed through the missile boats without much problem and flew at over a hundred knots toward the island just twenty feet above the water. “Sir, we’re being tracked,” said the electronics officer to the pilot.

  “Have you acquired the radar base yet?”

  “Yes.. Yes, I’ve got it. Bearing seven four eight at twenty-three miles. We’ve got to climb to at least one hundred feet to launch the missile.”

  “That’ll make us a sitting duck.” The pilot took Lance to a higher altitude. “We might as well wave a red flag and tell them where we’re at.”

  An alarm sounded as a Hawk missile was launched from the island.

  “Come on! Fire the Harpoon! Just one second more...”

  The radar operator was still watching his console. “Sir, Lance has disappeared from radar. Also, I’ve got two missile boats bearing zero-nine-three at two thousand meters. Sir, they’re attacking and launching missiles.”

  Rainey looked at Pitney. “Is the cannon on-line?”

  “Yes, sir, but I don’t know if it’s in any condition to fire. There’s a lot of damage up there.”

  “Use the cannon.”

  Another officer turned to the captain. “Captain, the phalanx is out of ammo. They’re reloading it now.”

  The bridge spotter shook his head. “Those missiles will be here before it’s loaded, sir.”

  “That’s all right, Ensign. As long as they’re shooting at us, the convoy is safe. What’s the convoy’s position, now?”

  “Sir, the convoy is due west of our position,” the radar operator said. “Do you think Lance got the radar?”

  Rainey looked in the direction of the island. “God, let’s hope so.”

  Moments later, four missiles slammed into the side of the Brittany Shore. Fire broke out all over the ship, which began to list sharply to the right. Only emergency power remained.

  Pitney’s charred face appeared from behind a post. “Shall I give orders to abandon ship, sir?”

  “Do we have any weapons left?” Rainey’s arm was soaked with red, hanging limp.

  “Yes, Captain. The one twenty millimeter cannon is still operational. It worked against the missile boats. I think we’ve sunk five now.”

  Rainey dropped to his knees, clinging to the console. Several of the bridge crew lay wounded on the floor. “Has the convoy passed by yet?”

  “Medic! We need a medic here!”

  The radar operator looked at Pitney. “Sir, I’ve got the radar back up... And sir, we’ve got an aircraft bearing zero-six-three. It’s... it’s a MIG-23, sir.”

  Rainey grabbed Pitney’s arm as he sank to the floor. “Take care of her, Pitney... And she’ll always bring you home.” His eyes closed.

  Pitney stood and looked around. “Is the Sea Sparrow on-line?”

  “I think I can get you one.”

  “I want that MIG!”

  “Affirmative, sir. Firing the Sea Sparrow.”

  “Are there any more hostiles?”

  “No, sir. No MIGs and no more missiles. Lance must’ve gotten the radar.”

  “Engine room. Can you make turns?”

  “Affirmative, Captain.”

  “Give me three knots. Pilot, set course in pursuit of the convoy. We’ll cover them as they leave. Somebody radio the convoy and wish them Godspeed.”

  Day Three

  Wasit Prison Facility

  East Central Iraq

  Prisoner Barracks

  Rob awoke the next morning to the sun shining in on him through the window. He had spent the night in handcuffs leaning against the pillar, so his neck was stiff and his hands felt numb. It had been almost an entire day since any of them had eaten. He looked around. Most of the others were still asleep except for Logan. He was sitting directly under the camera where he knew he wouldn’t be seen and was watching everyone, including Rob. He found himself wondering if Logan was one of the terrorists or maybe an Iraqi conspirator of some sort, there only to spy on the prisoners. He seemed to observe everything and keep to himself. He was unusually detached from everyone.

  That is... everyone except Marie. Several times Rob had seen him talking with her. In fact, he could think of no one else with whom he had seen Logan talking. Well, for now he would keep an eye on him until he could get a message to her to stay away from him.

  Logan walked over to stand by the window and study the outside area. From the front door of the block house in which they were located to the front gate of the compound was less than fifty meters. Only two guard towers kept watch over this area. Two expert marksmen could eliminate the guards in less than two seconds, he thought. The motor pool was just outside of the blockhouse door to the left. There were two Land Rovers with mounted machine guns, two transport trucks, the bus, and an armored car.

  For a moment, he allowed himself to be impressed, and somewhat surprised also, with how well his intelligence training had prepared him for this situation. The intelligence community was faced almost daily with impossible tasks. To find solutions, one must first define the problem, then inventory the available resources, and finally pool the resources into a workable solution. In this case, the problem was easily definable, and he had just concluded an inventory of resources. Now the solution was beginning to form. It’s just too easy.

  Something bothered him, though. How would the authorities ever locate this place? He knew that Israel, if not the U.S., would attempt a rescue if their location were known. But how to get a message out of here?

  At mid-morning, the passengers were finally taken out for their first meal, but Rob was taken again to the same small office he had been in the day before. This time Rob stood quietly. Colonel Esfandiari walked into the office from behind Rob, drew his revolver and pointed it at Rob’s head. “I could just kill you and get it over with,” he said with a soft ominousness. “Does th
at scare you?”

  Rob looked into the colonel’s eyes, trying to see beyond his own fear of death. Esfandiari squinted briefly and turned his head slightly. There it is, Rob thought. It was just a test. He weighed his options and decided that a show of weakness might cause this maniac to look for someone else to torment. No! If anybody, it must be him.

  Rob tried to sound lighthearted. “Actually, you’re the sixth Arab to point a gun at me in the past twenty-four hours. I killed the other five.”

  Sweat burst across Rob’s face as he watched the muscles in his tormentor's cheeks tighten. Then, with a deep breath, Esfandiari holstered his pistol and turned away.

  He dismissed the guards then stalked pompously about the room. “You obviously don’t understand that I’m not just any Arab.”

  Rob immediately caught onto his captor’s weakness. Could it be that this western-educated Arab considered himself American?

  “I was educated in the United States...”

  Rob interrupted, pushing his luck. “I know you...”

  Esfandiari whirled around angrily, then smirked at his prisoner. “Then, go on. Tell me who I am.”

  “Did you ever hear the story of the pot and the kettle?”

  Confused but curious, Esfandiari just stared blankly at Rob.

  “There was a pot and a kettle sitting on a stove one day. The pot looked at the kettle and said, ‘I’m sure glad I’m not like you. ‘Why is that?’ the kettle asked. ‘Well, you’re black,’ said the pot.” Rob glanced at Esfandiari, but his captor made no move, only studied Rob intently. “You see, what is so ironic is that they were both made from the same piece of metal.”

  “So,” Esfandiari exploded, “they were BOTH black! Is that what you are trying to say?!”

  Rob had pushed the right buttons.

  “You look at me as if I am one of these... these... these spineless... ignorant... fools!” Esfandiari sputtered. “No! No! I am more!” He shook his finger in Rob’s face. “I am more than that, and before I am done with you, you will know that, too.” Esfandiari turned sharply on his heels and stomped out.

  Rob knew he had pretty much guaranteed the safety of the passengers. Their sparring had turned this situation into a personal battle between the two of them. Esfandiari no longer cared about the other passengers. Now he would not be able to resist focusing his rage on Rob only. Suddenly, the door opened again behind him, and the guards came back in. Rob took a deep breath and braced himself: he knew what was going to happen next...

  Wasit Territory

  East Central Iraq

  Captain Taylor managed to stall the Iraqi offensive for only three hours. To his knowledge, he was the only survivor. He wasn’t sure if any of the Abrams or Bradleys had managed to escape the Iraqi counter-offensive. It came quickly from every direction. His company had been split up and destroyed completely. Attacks from the ground units, combined with those of attack helicopters and Air Force fighters made for a quick Iraqi victory.

  He tried to remember the last thing that happened. There was an explosion as his tank was hit, then... Then he was on this truck, but where was he being taken? Were there any other survivors? The guards would not talk to him or answer his questions. He wasn’t sure if that was because they were ordered not to or they just couldn’t speak English.

  They had spent the night before parked beside the road. He went to sleep listening to fighters flying back and forth overhead. He hoped they belonged to the U.S., but he had his doubts. They had been traveling northward for a day. If their destination wasn’t Baghdad, then it certainly must be near it.

  Wasit Prison Facility

  East Central Iraq

  Prisoner Barracks

  Logan paused momentarily as he looked into Marie’s eyes. If Rob has the leadership and imagination that I think he does, he thought, then he will certainly know what to do with this information.

  “You must get this information to Rob. It is very important that no one know where it came from.”

  “I understand.”

  “Don’t look at it, but you know the camera over in the corner that is monitoring us?”

  “Yes.”

  “Listen carefully. First, the camera has a transmitter on it that broadcasts the signal to different parts of this compound. Second, the camera crew has equipment that could intercept that signal and retransmit it on a U.S. military emergency band frequency. Do you understand what I’m saying?”

  Marie looked insulted. “Don’t patronize me.”

  “I’m very sorry.” Logan was apologetic, looking both surprised and impressed. “Third, you know the two businessmen over to your left by the window? They are electrical engineers, and one has a technician’s tool set with him. The final piece is this.” He handed her a pocket pager. “The crystal from this pager can be used to receive the signal transmitted by that closed circuit camera. If all the pieces are put together correctly, the same picture that the guards are watching could be retransmitted on an emergency band width that the U.S. military constantly monitors. It would take only minutes for the U.S. to vector our position. Then, if the signal was picked up by the Iraqis also, they would be able to trace the signal to this compound to that camera and to the transmitter it contains, but I don’t believe they would be able to figure out what happened.”

  Marie stared intently at him. “Let me get this straight. You want Rob and those two businessmen... “ She waved her hand toward Grant and Katz, but Logan quickly grabbed her hand and lowered it.

  “Never, ever, point at someone when you’re being watched.”

  She looked at him sheepishly. “Sorry. You want Rob and those two to use your beeper to intercept the broadcast from that camera and retransmit it with the TV cameras on some emergency channel?”

  “That’s correct.”

  “Can that really be done?”

  “I’m not sure. I’m not an electrician, but something tells me that if it is possible, your husband can make it work.”

  “I’m sure he’ll be pleased to know about your confidence in him, but I’m not thrilled about having Rob do something that could get him killed.”

  He remained silent for a moment as he considered her. She was very beautiful and obviously very dedicated to her husband. “Marie, are you aware that there have been very few kidnappings in this part of the world that have not resulted in someone, if not everyone, being killed? We cannot depend on diplomacy to save us. We don’t even know if our nations know what country we’re being held in, and they certainly do not know we’re here. If we’re to be rescued, we must let them know where we are. The rest is up to them.”

  She looked at least partially convinced. “What about the frequency for the emergency band? What is it?”

  He handed her a sheet of paper. It appeared to be a type of diary for the last couple of days with the time of day in the left-hand column.

  “A diary?”

  He looked around to see if her surprise drew any attention, but everyone seemed to be busy as they were. “No, not just a diary. The times are fictitious. If you take all the numbers from the times on this page and put them together, you have the frequency of the emergency band.”

  She looked at the page again, then up at him. “Can I keep this?”

  “No, just look at it and memorize it.”

  She visually placed all the numbers together and committed it to memory. A moment later, she handed it back to him.

  “I’ll see that Rob gets this information.”

  He started to turn away but stopped to look back at her. “Remember, Rob cannot know where this came from. It’s for his own good!” Then he left her.

  Rob looked at Nancy, shocked. “Marie told you this?”

  Nancy nodded.

  He glanced over toward Marie and then back at Nancy, unbelieving. “Marie?” He had always been aware of her technical knowledge, but this surpassed anything of which he ever considered her capable.

  “The answer is yes,” he said, trying to regain h
is composure. “I know exactly what she means. Marie told you this? My Marie?”

  “Yes,” Nancy repeated, getting visibly perturbed with his incredulity, “and she said that you would understand.”

  “I do, but I didn’t know that communications were of any interest to her. Don’t you think she’s been acting strange?”

  “Not at all. Under the circumstances, I think that she’s been acting quite normal.”

  ”Dreaming up a way to turn a local surveillance camera into a regional broadcast center is not typical for her! Not only that, how would she know what the emergency band frequency is for the U.S. military? You’d have to be in the intelligence commun...”