By that time another official car had pulled up. It was the airport police chief. Beside him was Admiral Tanning.
“If we’d had our weapons we could have stopped them,” Murdock told the admiral.
“Yes. But this isn’t our country. I’ve told the chief the problem. He says he has men watching all air freight areas and all private planes leaving. If they try to fly the box out of here, he will catch them and seize it.”
“Lots of luck. It could slip through a hundred different ways,” DeWitt said.
“I’m going with the chief while he questions the two chopper pilots,” said the admiral. “If they know where the box was heading, we’ll find out.”
“Anything on the name or registry of the freighter?” Murdock asked.
“Yes, something here, Satellite photo, I think. Here it is. She’s the Faizabad Roamer. My guess, Panama registered. Seems that ninety percent of all ships are registered there. It’s easy, quick, and cheap. No safety regulations.”
“Could our men help watch the air freight areas?” DeWitt asked.
The admiral asked the chief something in Greek, and had an answer.
“He said yes. They will give you jackets to wear at the main building. He’s sending two of his men along to get you suited up and positioned.”
The SEALs spent the next six hours patrolling the air freight areas. They watched shipments being loaded; they checked on the carriers that had loads in place. They all wore jackets with airport security logos, which gave them license to go anywhere.
Once they found a box that seemed familiar. When they checked it, Bradford said it was too big. He lifted one side of it and shook his head. It was bound for New York.
“Whole thing can’t weigh more than thirty pounds. Too light.”
They kept looking.
Admiral Tanning sat in his car nearby watching and talking on his SATCOM. Murdock checked in with him every hour.
“Might have something, Commander,” the admiral said the next time Murdock stopped by. “One of the pilots of that chopper said the word Kabul. The only Kabul I know of is the capital of Afghanistan.”
“That is bad news, Admiral. That’s where Osama bin Laden had his headquarters for years. I hear he may be moving his operations back there and that he’s on good terms with the government there again.”
“We ran the name of the ship through our sources, and it came back with a Panamanian registry, but also that it is owned by a shipping company from Afghanistan and with a home port in Jask, Iran.”
“Have you checked any aircraft leaving that have filed a flight plan for Afghanistan?”
“Not yet, but I’m about to. Just hope that we’re not too late.”
Ten minutes later, the admiral honked the horn on his sedan. Murdock ran over to it. The admiral was grim.
“Report just came in. A private transport craft left an hour ago bound for Kabul. It carried over twenty thousand pounds of freight, and all of it had export tags passed by the customs department. I’d say we missed the box with the warhead in it.”
An hour later, the SEALs had returned the civilian clothes, put on their cammies, and relaxed in their quarters at the NATO compound. Don Stroh showed up with a SATCOM slung over his shoulder.
“Hey, Stroh, you joining up?” Ron Holt yelled at him.
“Should. I’ve been spending enough time on this radio. I love it. I can call anyone I want anywhere in the damn world. Where’s Murdock?”
“Officer country.”
“Right behind you,” Murdock said, coming through the door.
“Change of plans,” Stroh said. “Came through channels. The admiral wants to talk to you. We’re not tracking the plane heading to Kabul. The powers figure that can wait. We need to take down that damn destroyer first.”
“Where is it?”
“Still inside the Greek islands and making ten knots.”
“How do we stop her?”
“Murdock, my friend, that’s up to you and Admiral Tanning. He wants to see you, Ed, and your senior chief right away in his office.”
“We’re on our horse.”
When the SEALs arrived, Admiral Tanning looked grim. “We’re back on the damn Chinese freighter/destroyer. I’ve had this through channels. The President wants your Third Platoon to slow or stop that destroyer. It has to look like an accident, so we can’t use any overt military action. What are your ideas?”
“We mentioned limpet mines before, Admiral,” Murdock said. “They could be planted covertly. If both were on one side, it could appear as though the ship hit a floating mine left over from World War II.”
“A possibility. What other ideas?”
“Sir, one of the men suggested that Stinger missiles might be used. They have a three-mile range, two-point-two pounds of high explosives, and Mach 1 speed,” Senior Chief Dobler said.
“No. That’s an air-to-ground or air-to-air missile and it’s IR-guided,” Admiral Tanning said. “No infrarred to latch onto on that destroyer. Anyway, that would make it too much of a military hit.”
“If we wanted to board her, we’d need two hundred men and a complete sweep-down by twenty-millimeter rounds by helicopter gunships,” DeWitt said. “We know that’s one that won’t work.”
“One of my men suggested we dive and throw a line around her screws,” Murdock said. “When the last of the line wraps around the turning screw, it has on the end a bomb that blows off the screw, putting the ship dead in the water.”
“That one sounds good,” Admiral Tanning said. “What else do you have?”
“We considered RPGs,” Murdock said. “But that would put us within two hundred yards of the ship and their radar would undoubtedly pick us up. Such an attack could be blamed on terrorists or maybe modern-day pirates, but the destroyer would have no problem with a small attack like that.”
“The President and his advisors didn’t say how we were to stop the ship, just that it had to be stopped without the use of any obvious military action,” Admiral Tanning said. “Commander, what’s your best shot at this job?”
Murdock looked at his two fellow SEALs. “We think it should be the limpets and the bomb on the propeller. Both could be blamed on old mines. We could use some kind of weathered cable, a quarter inch or so, to reinforce the idea that it was an old tied-down mine that broke loose.”
The admiral took out a pipe, cleaned it, and put in fresh tobacco. He lit the pipe, then blew out a cloud of blue smoke and waved at the SEALs.
“I’m giving you a go on this, SEALs. It’s within the parameters. Then we’ll let the top brass figure out what to do with the destroyer once she’s dead in the water.” The admiral pumped out more smoke. Then he nodded.
“Yeah, I thought of what was bothering me. About two months ago somebody came to us with a larger-sized limpet mine. Twice as big as any I’ve ever seen. He wanted to put on a demo for us. Had to turn him down, but he left some for us to experiment with. Would you like to take a look at them?”
“Yes, sir.”
Twenty minutes later, in the NATO ammo bunker six feet underground, the admiral showed the SEALs the limpet mines.
“Still magnetic and with a simple detonator,” the admiral said. “You can take them if you want to.”
“Yes, let’s use them,” DeWitt said. “Two of them on the stern of that destroyer should make an impression on the Chinese mind.”
“How many?” Murdock asked.
“We should have two to use and two for backup in case we lose one,” Senior Chief Dobler said.
“Then we’ll need some TNAZ or some C-4 to make our prop bomb,” DeWitt said.
“And the cable,” Murdock added. “Something used and old if possible. The Chinese will send divers down to check out a blown-off screw.”