“Sounds OK. Give me a call while are down there.”
“Oh, one more thing — I’ll have Captain Edward Schmitzer of the SS George H. W. Bush give you and Fegan a tour of his supercarrier when you are finished in Somalia.”
Robinson exited the WHSR. Landenberger finished the cup of coffee and took a moment for reflection. Willy hit the nail…One day I’m going to reach a critical moment and be forced to make a decision that could destroy the world. NO… NO I CANNOT LET IT GO THAT FAR. Something must be done long before that point is reached. The Iranians are always pushing… always pushing us back and we give them more ground with each passing day. Bush stood up to Saddam and put a noose around his neck. I can do the same with Ayatollah.
They see it as weakness. One day we must assert ourselves and show them we mean business. A time will come when we will need to draw a line in the sand and refuse to let them cross it. What to do? What to do?
Chapter Seven
For an hour the supertanker had altered it course and tried to outrun the approaching jet powered craft.
Mahdi lifted the binoculars to his eyes in time to see the crew members running to and fro on the deck like drowning ants. He smiled.
Come to me little one.
I am the master of the seas — lord of all I survey.
I claim a bounty on all those who pass here
And it is your turn to pay.
“Admiral” Mahdi and the Somali Marines boarded the helpless French flagged supertanker Limburg carrying nearly four-hundred-thousand barrels of crude from Iran to Spain.
The double-hulled vessel once called the Maritime Jewel had been attacked several years before by an explosives-laden dinghy that rammed the starboard side of the tanker and detonated. It caught fire and lost ninety-thousand barrels of oil into the sea. It was never certain; however it was attributed to Al Qaeda.
Mahdi had his “Marines” gather the crew on the deck and pointed a Millennium PT145 pistol to the captain’s head. There was a language problem that Mustafa had learned to overcome by snarling and shouting like a crazed killer all the while pushing his victims around without much regard. On occasion he would play Russian roulette when the captain needed persuasion. If it didn’t work on the captain it always worked when he threatened to kill a crew member.
The Iranians are an easy prey. They are a spineless lot. He felt the hate — the rage coming over him. His hatred for the Iranians knew no bounds. He would like to shoot them all and dump the bodies overboard and watch while they were torn to pieces by the sharks. He shook it off as he always did. His men counted on him to maintain a cool demeanor and he would not let them down today.
There was no need for games. He carried a set of directions for ransom printed in several languages and presented it to the captain who was on his knees begging for his life while the crewmembers looked on.
“لا مهاجمتي! “he cried. Terror filled his eyes.
Mustafa smiled and pointed the pistol to the deck. “That is enough. I think we have an understanding,” he growled. “Let’s call your boss and see if he thinks you are worth three million American dollars today.”
He cast his eyes across the bow at the glimmering waters of the Indian Ocean and felt his heart at peace. Allah shines upon me today. He offered the ancient silent prayer known to all Muslims. There is no God but Allah and Muhammad is his prophet.
Reuters’ News Service:
On February 23 it was reported by the BBC that a column of 150 Ethiopian military vehicles, including armored personnel carriers, had crossed the border town of Dolo Odo into Somalia. They appeared to be headed toward Baidoa advancing within 80 km of the town. However, the Ethiopian government denied that its forces had entered Somalia.
This is going quite well. Many seem to understand what the Russians have offered. Allah be praised.
Prime Minister Sharmarke addressed the assembly of representatives that sat on folding chairs in the abandoned grain warehouse.
There was no grain.
There was no food.
There was no need for a warehouse.
There was however, a great need for the meeting.
The town had been torn apart by an Ethiopian raid in 2006 and the crop was burned. The villagers fled and joined the mass of refugee camps in the surrounding hills. Most never returned — some had been killed in the raid, others by the raids of various militia factions, while most died of hunger and disease.
The Prime Minister had finished his presentation that outlined the Somalia Russian Restore Order Initiative.
“You have listened to the proposal. I invite your questions.”
Several hands went up. “What is to keep the Russians from overrunning our country? They could kill us all and take it for themselves.”
“I have wondered that too. We could not stop them as we are powerless in any event. I ask myself ‘what do we have if we do not do this?’ I answer that we have nothing — no hope of anything but anarchy. It is salvation that they offer this to us. I would rather be ruled by a strong foreign power than continue as we have for so many years. We need only to look at how they treat their own citizens and the countries that surround them. They have grown to greatness and rival the United States of America in many ways.
“Once they were a ruthless people, but have chosen another path. They do not have a history of conquering nations and killing its citizens. Why would they begin now? They see our lands as a new frontier and wish to create wealth for themselves. They have made no attempt to hide their goals. However, they offer to share it with us, which is more than we could ever hope.
“Our pact allows us to continue to rule ourselves. Our courts will have a power they have never enjoyed. Our laws will be obeyed by our citizens, not the mockery that has come to be. We must look around to see that we, the supposed leaders of Somalia, are hiding in a grain warehouse while criminals, gangs, and militias have taken over our cities.”
Everyone stood to their feet and applauded.
A voice heard from the back shouted, “I make a motion that we take a vote and table the discussion!”
“Do I hear a second?”
“Yea!” echoed from a dozen.
“I make a motion that we dispense with a written ballot and have a show of hands!”
“Yea.”
“Seconded?”
“Yea.”
“All those in favor?”
Most all raised their hands.
“All those opposed—”
A scattered, “Nay.”
“The ‘Yea’s’ have it. The proposal to accept the Russian offer is passed. Let us step forward and sign our names to the pact!”
A cheer went up. All agreed that this was a great day. It would be a day in Somali history that would be talked about for generations to come.
And it was not yet over….
I wonder why the president sent me here? This is going to be a wild goose chase in the middle of nowhere.
Robinson glanced out the window and wondered why the jet had been circling so long. His craft had been held up nearly an hour hovering over the airport and eventually the Aden Adde runway appeared below.
Beside him sat Kenneth Fegan, a newcomer to the White House staff, but fairly wise to the world of politics. He came from the upper ranks of the CIA and brought with him a perspective that often scraped beneath the surface. Hop scotching the world for much of the nineties based in D.C. he spent his time working on lower level terrorism cases — at least they appeared to be, as he always cracked the case and brought many terrorist plots to an abrupt conclusion.