Jaws of the Tiger Page 11

  Lombardi took over. “Don Peters had his people scan the videos and got some info on these Baluchistan Tigers. According to his intel, the leader of this hijacking is a certain Tariq Assirgan, wanted by the Pakistani government in relation to the planning and execution of three suicide missions in Islamabad. And that’s only in the past 18 months. They’ve killed a total of 156 innocent people so far. Peters says he can’t rule out they’re on another suicide mission.”

  “Or Jihadists out to kill unbelievers,” added West.

  There was a pregnant silence, as each the participants eyed the opposing parties of the videoconference.

  Finally Hays spoke. “Ms. Lombardi, Admiral, let me be very clear. While the British government does not officially pay ransom to terrorists, we have set aside $60 million in a Swiss trust account for Mr. Bolding here to pay the pirates. We have no indication that these are anything but pirates, and we have every indication they will not negotiate. If the US government decides to proceed with Sleeping Beauty, it does so at its own risk and peril, and shall bear the entire responsibility of so doing.”

  There was another pregnant silence, as all digested the impacts of Hays’s statement. Finally Lombardi spoke. “Is this how the British government plays cover their rears, Terry, or just you?”

  “Now look here, Secretary Lombardi—”

  “So what you’re telling us, Terry, is that you’re willing to risk these fanatics murdering the entire crew and all the passengers? Or them drowning if they manage not to get murdered? Is that what you’re telling us?”

  “I didn’t say that, Secretary Lombardi,” said Hays.

  “Oh really? Then please. Explain.”

  “We have no knowledge of Bezorban’s side effects,” said Hays. “Even you admit you don’t know the full consequences of its use. As you mentioned earlier, you will use it only in extreme circumstances. We have every indication that if this Tariq gets his money, he’ll back off. Why would he—?”

  “Terry, you are not that naïve,” interrupted Lombardi, “It’s far more likely he wants to do both. Get the money and kill the passengers.”

  Another pregnant silence.

  Lombardi looked at West for a moment, then turned back towards the video screen. “Gentlemen, we consider having two people murdered and the lives of the other passengers at high risk to be extreme circumstances.”

  Hays sat back and took in a deep breath. “It’s your decision Admiral, Secretary Lombardi. We can do nothing to stop you. I’ll advise the Prime Minister accordingly. In the meantime, our government will try the other route. Adrian, tell the pirates they’ll get their money as soon as they alter course.”

  Chapter 28

  On the sky deck of the Caravan Star

  Wet and cold, Dulac, Karen and Hank huddled together, shivering behind the two-sided metal enclosure next to the door, trying to get some protection from the 50 knots wind and sheets of pelting rain.

  “Can’t we go inside?” shouted Karen.

  Dulac reached over and tried the door handle. “It’s locked.”

  “Now what?” said Karen.

  “We have no choice,” said Dulac. “The only way is to keep going: across the sky deck to the bow, then down the open stairs to the lower deck.”

  “Just fantastic,” said Karen.

  “Any other ideas? Hank?”

  Hank exhaled a sigh of doubt. “We can try the other doors on the way. Who knows, we might get lucky.”

  “Let’s go,” said Dulac. “The longer we wait, the colder we get.” He turned to Karen. “Stay close behind me, keep low and walk with a wide stance: the deck will be like a skating rink.”

  * * *

  Aboard the USS Anzio

  Standing next to the ensign on watch, Donnelly looked at the anemometer: 61 knots. They were in a full gale. To his left, watch officer Dick Hunt looked alternatively at the ship’s compass and the bow, as the Anzio reared up now and then like a bucking stallion in slow motion.

  His eyes still glued onto the anemometer, Donnelly asked Hunt: “What’s your speed over ground?”

  “Down to 17 knots, Sir.”

  “Damn.” Donnelly glanced at the radar screen: the white dot representing the Caravan Star was now within the 18 mile circle from the Anzio. He grabbed the 7 x 50 powered telescope and adjusted its eyepiece. He nudged the telescope slightly upwards, then to the right, then left. “That’s her,” he exclaimed. “That’s the Star. Bearing 165 degrees. There she… shit, lost her again. This bloody weather isn’t helping one goddamn bit,” said Donnelly. He glanced at the radar again, showing the outline of the Azores, the island of Corvo and the jagged outline of the Torrais reef. Inside the 16 mile circle, the white dot was moving inexorably towards the reef, as drawn to it by a magnet.

  “She’s heading straight for it,” said Donnelly. He turned and went to the navigator’s station. “Give me an intercept time for us, and the collision time for the Caravan Star to the reef,” he said to the navigator.

  The navigator punched numbers into this computer and after a moment said: “the Star has 47 minutes till collision.”

  “And our intercept time?” said Donnelly.

  “We have two options.”

  “Which are?”

  “The direct intercept course takes us across some shallow water over there,” the navigator said, pointing to his GPS chart. “Normally we would swing 20° to port to avoid those poorly charted waters. But if we take the direct route, we can intercept in 35 minutes.”

  “And if we don’t?” said Donnelly.

  “Fifty-eight minutes.”

  Chapter 29

  On the Caravan Star’s bridge

  Tariq looked at the squat man, then pointed to Tate.

  “Get him up. Untie his hands.”

  “Yes Tariq.” The squat man rushed to obey.

  “You. Check for a message from Southampton.”

  Tate went to the radio operator station, sat down and opened his computer. He turned toward Tariq. “No messages.”

  “Nothing?”

  “No sir.”

  “We’ll see about that. Get Bolding on the—”

  The squeal of a high-frequency radio interrupted Tariq. A voice distorted by static hailed the ship. “Caravan Star, Caravan Star, this is P & W Southampton. Do you copy, over?”Tate recognized Allin’s high-pitched voice. “This is the Caravan Star. We read you six on 10. How do you read me, over?”

  “Seven on 10. I have Sir Adrian Bolding on the line. I…”

  Tariq grabbed the microphone. “Bolding, this is Tariq. I have no messages from my agent. Where is my money? Time is running out.”

  Heavy static screeched.

  “Repeat, Bolding.”

  “We have your money. I have confirmation from the Home Secretary. 60 million dollars is in a trust account in the Bahamas under….”

  “In the Bahamas? Do you take me for a fool, Bolding?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “The Bahamas? A British protectorate?” Tariq yelled, microphone in hand, pacing rapidly back and forth in front of Tate. “I suppose I just go to Nassau on a holiday to collect?”

  “No, no. The trustee can wire the funds from Guaranty Trust Bank to anywhere in the world.”

  “And who is this trustee?”

  “Your man in Costa Rica. Leon Binagro.”

  “Tell me Bolding, what guarantee do I have that you do not have another trustee, a Bahamian trustee, under your instructions, whose authorization is needed before the bank can release the funds?”

  “Well…. I…”

  “Unacceptable, Bolding. You had my instructions and ignored them, Bolding. Now more passengers will die.”

  “No, no, wait. Listen. You must give us more time. We cannot get the funds transferred to North Korea before noon. The bank in Tehran is closed until 2 am. your time.”

  “Then transfer the $60 million to Costa Rica. Get Binagro to call me on the sat phone when the funds are received.” Tariq looked at his
watch. “You have 41 minutes.”

  Chapter 30

  Homeland Security headquarters

  West and Turner sat across from the video screen, their eyes riveted to the high-scale map on the screen. Lombardi paced nervously back and forth, alternating her tense gaze between the map and the admirals. The screen showed the Caravan Star closing in on Torrais Reef, and further up on the screen, the Anzio on a course to intercept her.

  “Can she make it?” Lombardi didn’t slow her pace.

  “Not unless the Anzio takes a straight course across Selkirk Passage,” said Turner.

  “So what’s the problem?”

  “I’ve spoken to Donnelly,” said Turner. “It’s low tide. He won’t risk his ship running aground in such shallow water with those large waves. Even if they come down, it’s pretty tricky. He’ll know definitely when they get closer.”

  Lombardi looked at the video screen just as the Anzio started altering course slightly to port.

  “How much time until the Star hits the reef?” said Lombardi.

  “About 39 minutes,” said Turner. “The men aboard the Anzio’s helicopter are ready to take off. They need 12 minutes to reach the Star, another five minutes to pump the Bezorban into the Star’s Dorade vents. Then ten minutes for the Bezorban to take effect, so the SEALS can take control of the bridge and alter the Star’s course.”

  “That’s cutting it real close,” said Lombardi eyeing West, then Turner.

  “That’s if all goes well,” said Turner.

  Lombardi looked at her watch. “So we have less than 12 minutes to decide.”

  “And counting,” said West.

  Lombardi walked to the window and looked outside. A slight rain began to wet the asphalt parking area below. She issued the order without turning. “Send the chopper.” She paused for a second and continued. “And God help us all.”

  Chapter 31

  On the Caravan Star’s bridge

  Tariq brought his lapel mike closer to his mouth. “What’s happening? Where are those passengers?”

  “We checked all the rooms and corridors. We checked all the lifeboats even. There’s no sign of them,” said Jawal.

  “Where are you?”

  “At the back. We found a sat phone on the deck. It must belong to one of them.”

  Tariq looked at his watch. “Listen to me. We have 31 minutes till we hit that reef. You don’t come back until you find them. Understood?”

  “Yes, Tariq.”

  * * *

  “Thierry, I’m freezing. Karen had to yell to be heard as she struggled to keep her balance in the raging gusts. Spray flew over the bridge and onto the sky deck. “I can’t go on.”

  Dulac turned and grabbed Karen’s left arm. “You have to! We’re almost there! We’re near the end of the sky deck, we’ll get shelter over there.” He pointed to a small metal structure dead ahead.

  “What if we can’t get down from there?” Both Karen and Hank looked at Dulac, who didn’t answer.

  A series of faint pops erupted from the rear, almost inaudible in the howling wind. They turned to see two hijackers shooting at them from the aft end of the sky deck.

  Dulac looked around. A large wooden box was to his left, about a dozen yards away next to the shuffle board lanes.

  “Go!” Dulac pushed them in the right direction.

  They dashed for the protection of the box, making it just as a burst of gunfire broke out from the front of the sky deck.

  “Jesus! We’re trapped!” Hank risked a glance from the side of their meager shield.

  Dulac grabbed the Glock from his pocket and opened fire, alternating between the bow and stern. Bullets riddled the wooden sides of the box. Dulac looked aft and saw the two men astern split up, to widen their angle of fire.

  “We’re screwed,” said Hank, as the three looked nervously about for another shelter.

  At that moment, something off the ship’s starboard side caught their attention. It was a dark object, its shape initially obscured by the thick clouds. Suddenly they recognized the unmistakable shape of a helicopter, closing in fast just above wave height. “Great timing,” Dulac said.

  The helicopter reached the ship and slowed, returning fire as the hijackers at the front of the sky deck peppered the sky with bullets. It neared the Caravan Star’s helipad at the bow. In only a moment, the chopper was down and out of sight, hidden by the sky deck.

  “Now’s our chance,” said Dulac. “They’re busy trying to get the chopper.”

  He rose from his crouch, panning with his Glock. Shots erupted from the aft portion of the sky deck. Dulac pointed to a metal ramp at the sky deck’s front. “That must be the staircase leading down,” he said. “Go. I’ll cover you.”

  Karen looked hesitantly at Dulac, then at Hank.

  “Now!” yelled Dulac. He opened fire towards the rear of the sky deck.

  * * *

  From the bridge, Tariq saw the helicopter lower onto the helipad.

  “What the…?” In an instant, eight navy SEALs were on deck, their faces hidden by gas masks. Some carried canisters, the others shooting towards the bridge. Before Tariq could even speak, three SEALs held open canisters to the opening of the Dorade vents. Others pressed compressors next to the canisters.

  “They’re gassing us. Open the glass doors!” Tariq yelled. “Kill those bastards.”

  Tariq grabbed his pistol from the console, then brought his lapel mike close to his mouth. “Amphitheater, engine room, steerage room! Get out! Repeat. Get out now! They’re going to gas the ship. Get…”

  “Tariq, this is Jawal.What’s happening?”

  “We’re under attack. They have gas. Get the men outside and come to the bridge. Hurry.”

  Chapter 32

  Homeland Security Headquarters, conference room 3B

  Lombardi looked anxiously at the radar image of the Azores displayed on the wall-mounted video monitor. The icon representing the Caravan Star appeared to be on the top of Torrais reef.

  Admiral Turner, his sat phone pressed to his ear, put his hand on the mouthpiece before speaking. “Donnelly says they’re onboard. They’re pumping the gas and proceeding to the bridge. They’ve met heavy gunfire.”

  “Any casualties?” said Lombardi.

  “Not so far,” said Turner.

  “How much time before the reef?”

  Turner looked at the radar. “About 18 minutes.”

  “Jesus.” Lombardi felt a twinge of pain across her chest. An image of the Caravan Star hitting the reef flashed across her mind, followed immediately by the image of 500 unconscious passengers and crew piling up pell-mell as the ship rolled over and capsized. It’d be the Costa Concordia all over again. Or worse. Lombardi stood up and started pacing again, this time in front of the monitor. She turned to Turner. “What’s the situation with the Portuguese?”

  “They sent three helicopters and four Coast Guard patrol boats from Lajes. Problem is,with those waves the boats won’t be able to get closer than 200 feet from the reef.”

  “Terrific. Just terrific.”

  “We’re doing everything we can.”

  Lombardi walked to the window again and looked out. A gentle breeze tickled the leaves of the acacia trees in the yard below. If the plan succeeded, the Caravan Star would be out of harm’s way within the next ten minutes. If it failed, many passengers and crew would drown. As head of the operation, her neck was the one on the chopping block.

  Chapter 33

  On the bridge of the Caravan Star

  The squat man stood behind a metal column near the bridge’s entrance and returned fire. The SEALs slowly forced him back. A window pane next to Tariq fractured into a mosaic of broken glass, shattered by ricocheting bullets.

  “Get up,” Tariq ordered Dickinson and the other hostages. He was about to march them outside in front of him when the Inmarsat radio came to life.

  “Caravan Star, do you copy, over?” Tariq recognized Binagro’s voice. Tariq walked back and pick
ed up the microphone on the radio operator’s desk, keeping his gun trained on the hostages.

  “Tariq.”

  “Leo. We have the money.”

  “All of it?”

  “Sixty million US, deposited in the Costa Rican account.”

  “Allah be praised!” Tariq smiled, a smile cut short by a burst of machine gun fire close to the bridge. “I’ve got a problem here.”

  “Sounds it,” said Binagro.

  “Our wings. Did you get them?”

  “They’re waiting in Corvo.”

  “I knew I could count on you.” Tariq dropped the microphone onto the desk.

  Suddenly the squat man entered, wobbly, a stream of blood dripping from his left arm.

  “They’re blocking the entrance below. What do we do?”

  “We’ve got to get out of here. The gas.” Tariq started to cough. “We’ll go down the other side of the bridge.” He turned to the officers sitting on the floor, some of whom had already passed out. “Anyone tries to follow, he’s dead, understand?”

  Tate nodded weakly.

  “Let’s go.” Tariq prodded the six hostages to the other side of the bridge with his pistol. He pointed the Glock at Easton’s wife’s head. “Senator, try anything and your wife gets it first.”

  * * *

  Luxor amphitheater

  With the hijackers gone, a group of passengers rushed to the heavy wooden doors of the main entrance and tried breaking it down, but to no avail. Women and children coughed as the gas spread quickly. Some tried to breach the emergency exits, only to find the hijackers had locked them also. They were trapped. The sweet odor of oranges grew more pungent. Passengers began to passout. Panic mounted, nearing eruption.