One more sale, then the ship would head directly for the canal.
He tired of watching the engineers, and returned to the bridge. They were making five knots in a generally southern direction. Never had Chen seen so many islands. They were the Greek islands, and many of them were populated. It must be a headache to govern. He would rather have his country all in one piece with water only on one side of it.
“Sir,” one of the officers on the bridge said. “We have a ship coming up from the port side at fourteen knots. She has the radar appearance of a small freighter. Range is ten thousand meters.”
“Thanks, Commander. You better let your captain know.”
Moments later the ship’s captain came on the bridge.
“Not visual yet, sir,” the commander said. “Range now a little under ten thousand meters.”
“Try a hailing frequency,” the captain ordered.
A few minutes later the radio man returned to the bridge.
“Sir, she responded, she’s the Faizabad Roamer. That’s the same ship we contacted two days ago. She gives you her compliments and says she will be alongside shortly for a transfer of the package by high line.”
The captain shook his head. “It’s too choppy out here today for a high-line transfer. We’ll do it with a small launch. Get my gig over the side at once, Commander.”
An hour later the transfer was complete. The warhead had been cushioned with insulation inside a wooden box, then swathed with flotation blankets. Next they’d wrapped the box securely.
The money came over in the captain’s gig first; then the warhead went back. The two boats were within a hundred yards of each other for about fifteen minutes. With the safe transfer, the two boats turned heading in opposite directions.
Chen nodded. Yes, the last contact with the Western World before he headed for Mother China. He lit another cigarette and chain-smoked for an hour. All the time he thought about home, his wife, and their small son. He would be home soon. Again he wondered what his reception would be when he returned to China with forty-nine nuclear warheads. Glorious, it would be glorious.
13
Murdock and DeWitt had been summoned to a meeting at what looked like a corporate boardroom. It was 0720 the morning after their failed attack on the Chinese ship, and Murdock and Ed DeWitt both had been roused from a dead sleep. The oblong table in the large room was of dark wood Murdock figured was something better than mahogany. When they arrived, Admiral Tanning was waiting. So was Don Stroh.
“You boys move faster than I do,” Stroh said, “but I always catch up. The admiral needs some input before he makes a decision. Admiral Tanning, I believe you’ve met these SEALs.”
The admiral nodded, and looked up from some papers he held.
“We have a change of direction,” he said. “I thought we’d be going for the freighter/destroyer, but not now. Less than an hour ago, a ship approached the Chinese vessel and steamed alongside for some time not a hundred yards from the destroyer. We’re not certain, but we think that there was an exchange of some kind between the two. After fifteen minutes the ships parted, going in opposite directions.
“We’ve had information from our satellite trackers and the AWACS plane in the area, that the smaller freighter is moving along at fourteen knots and heading generally southeast, which would bring it out of the Greek islands and position it for a run through the Mediterranean toward the Arab nations of the Middle East.”
Murdock frowned, bringing three deep creases to his forehead.
“So the thinking is that there could have been a transfer of a warhead or two from the Chinese ship to the second one. Do we know the registry of the second ship?”
“No. We’re trying to determine that. It may take a flyover by a jet to establish the name.”
“So we have a second ship at sea,” DeWitt said. “This one probably isn’t a destroyer. We could do the same thing we tried to do with the Chinese warship.”
“Another chance for a really bad international incident, attacking an innocent ship on the high seas,” the admiral said. “Is there a better way?”
He looked up as a Marine came in with a folder. He gave it to the admiral and retreated. Admiral Tanning looked at the papers a moment, then shook his head.
“Changes, gentlemen. The latest word from the AWACS is that the smaller freighter has changed course and is now steaming at fourteen knots back toward Athens.”
“Where she could connect with a plane to take a small package with a nuclear warhead to any country in the world,” Murdock said. “The new freighter has to be our first priority. We know where the rest of the warheads are. Where could the new one, or two or three, be going?”
“How heavy are those warheads?” DeWitt asked.
The admiral looked up. “Could be anywhere from fifty pounds to three hundred. They could carry three or four in a small boat from the destroyer to the merchantman.”
The same Marine came in with more papers. He gave them to the admiral and left.
“Uh-huh. Yes. The AWACS reports that there is a helicopter approaching the small merchantman headed back toward Athens. There is a landing pad on the freighter. If the bird lands, AWACS will tell us and then follow it to wherever it goes.”
Don Stroh headed for the door. “I’m getting on my SATCOM and calling my chief and the President. They need to know about this.”
“Admiral, can NATO take a squad of men and surround that chopper when it lands?” Murdock asked.
“Not a chance. By the time we told the Greek officials what we wanted to do and had approval, it would be next Thursday. They don’t work quickly here, and we have no authority otherwise.”
Murdock scowled. “That’s bad. Hey, how about a gaggle of civilians, say fourteen, all men, storm that chopper when it lands thinking there is a famous movie actress on board.”
“Might work,” the admiral said. “You men do a kind of sit-in while I get the Athens airport police to seize the chopper for possible smuggling.”
“Time?” Murdock asked.
“The chopper has over a hundred miles to go. Could take him two hours. It’s a small civilian bird. Let’s get to the PX and get you some clothes. You can change on the way.”
A half hour later the fourteen SEALs, in various kinds of civilian clothes and without a weapon among them, headed toward the Athens airport on a NATO bus. The SEAL SATCOM hooked up with the AWACS plane, and it told them precisely where the chopper was about to land, at the far end of the airport near a little-used gate.
The bus charged through a gate that said no admittance, and hurried down a half mile to the chopper. Both arrived at the same time. The SEALs boiled out of the bus and charged the chopper.
Already they could see they were too late. A small pickup truck had been in position where the chopper landed. A large box had been pulled out of the chopper and hoisted into the pickup, which promptly smashed through the back swing-out gate, breaking a lock and slamming open the steel and wire barrier. The pickup raced off down a dirt track and into a light industrial area.
“No way our bus can stay with that light truck,” Murdock said, not even breathing hard after the thirty-yard sprint. “Let’s grab the pilot and the second man in the chopper for a little informal grilling.”
The two men spoke only Greek. By that time airport police had boiled up in a pair of cars, and the police rushed up to the chopper. One of the officers spoke English, the second language of Greece.
“This helicopter landed without clearances,” the policeman said. “They will be held and charged. Looks like they also broke the fence. Another charge for that.”