His phone began signaling. “Excuse me a minute.”
He listened briefly.
“We have spotted suspicious activity southeast of our position. We must go to the war room.”
A few minutes later Robinson sat in with the officers as they formulated plans to prevent a possible hijacking. Aircraft were alerted to scout the area and the carrier headed in the direction of the suspected pirates.
Twenty minutes had passed with frenetic activity. Sirens wailed and sailors ran about the ship in a mad rush. Robinson had tagged along with several officers including the captain and scoured the horizon with binoculars.
“We have a report, Captain that the Jamaran is on a collision course approaching at twenty knots off the starboard bow.”
“Crap! Now we must deal with the Iranians.” He explained that an arrogant rear admiral was aboard the destroyer and would probably be throwing his weight around. It would not be the first time they had problems with the Jamaran. Presumably it was headed toward the suspected pirates and the Fifth Fleet may have gotten in their arrogant way.
He removed a set of worry beads from his pocket and began trekking them off one by one with his thumb. “Maintain our present position and call them and tell them they are breaking into the ranks of the Fifth Fleet. We respectfully request that they alter their course.”
Robinson could see the destroyer approaching at a good clip. The captain of the Enterprise called in.
Schmitzer talked with him briefly and flipped the encrypted phone back in his pocket. “The Enterprise is upset. They needed to alter their course in order to avoid a collision.”
A pilot from one of the F/A-18C/D Hornets gave the report. “Captain we have a jet-powered craft cruising around out here with six passengers.”
“Describe the occupants.”
“They appear to be tourists. They are wearing civilian clothing and seem to be fishing sir. They are wearing straw hats and drinking beer.”
“Any females?”
“All males — they look like Bantu.”
“Maintain contact and give us visuals.”
“An oil tanker is approaching their position.”
A bank of plasma screens that lined the wall began to fill with images of the activity some hundred miles away.
An officer said, “The Jamaran has not changed course. They do not respond to our call. We will collide in two minutes sir. Shall we alter our course?”
“Maintain course.”
“Sir?”
A Squadron of SuperCobras raced overhead toward the strike zone. Robinson thought he saw them depart from another carrier.
“Maintain course, battle stations — code red.” The worry beads began clacking faster, like the tapping on a windowpane on a rainy night.
Another siren wailed and more sailors began scurrying about the ship. Several Hornets raced into the sky.
“Seven minutes and the TI super tanker “Hellespont Tara” will make contact with the fisherman sir.”
“Approaching aircraft, Captain!”
A trio of Grumman F-14 Tomcats roared overhead, nearly knocking everyone to the deck. Too close for me. What in the world?
“It is the Iranians! They are intimidating us trying to provoke us into an international incident.” Captain Schmitzer ran to the deck and shook his fist in the air as they flew toward the horizon.
“I can get the president on line sir.”
“That will not be necessary. I can handle this.”
My God. The man has nerves of steel. If we get out of this alive it will be a miracle.
Perhaps I should call Landenberger. Yes, he will get us out of this mess! The phone was in his hand and he punched the hotline number.
“30 seconds to collision!” The Jamaran was upon them. Robinson could see the faces of the Arabic sailors as they stood on the deck pointing rifles and RPG’s directly at him. A pair of marines sat in turrets behind 30 mm guns. They pulled the chargers into position.
It is too late we are all going to die!
Mahdi had a bad feeling about this one.
Hornet fighter jets had spotted him and were circling his position. They are on to us. I should have brought women with us. They are not buying into this.
The supertanker was in sight. SuperCobras appeared on the horizon and were closing in fast. It would be unfortunate to be so close…. We could still attempt to board it. It is twenty minutes away if we sit here. If we run for it we could be there in five minutes. Once aboard, we will be safe.
He throttled the turbo and made a run for the tanker. Admiral Mahdi instructed his B-Wasy’s to be ready with the grappling hooks and to climb aboard as quickly as possible. They needed no prompting as the SuperCobras were approaching at a good clip.
He lifted the binoculars to his eyes. This is going to be close — too close. Another squadron of Sikorsky SH-3 Sea Kings appeared on the horizon. Probably about two minutes behind the SuperCobras. This just keeps getting better and better. He instructed one of his crew to take the wheel and brought out the AK-47’s and rocket launchers from under the front compartment and began suiting up in a scuba outfit complete with dual oxygen tanks. His men looked perplexed to see this.
“I will go up last and if I don’t make it for some reason—” They understood.
They reached the tanker that appeared to be oblivious to all the activity as it had not altered course. The grappling hooks secured the side and his five men began the climb to the deck.
“Go go go!” It was too late. The Cobras were upon them and hovered over his position. His men needed at least a minute to make it to the top.
He grabbed the phone and punched the auto dial. “Captain Abu. The situation here is hot. If I do not call you in the next ten minutes I want you pick up survivors at shoal number seventeen ASAP.”
A bull horn gave a command, “Return to your boat! Do not board the tanker!”
Admiral Mahdi signaled his men to continue.
We can do this. These are Americans! In a half minute my men will be on deck and we will have the tanker and hostages. We can fight off the first to open fire with the AK-47’s if it comes to that. The Americans are foolish! They should have picked off my men when they had the chance.
The Sikorsky Sea Kings arrived and he could see Arabs sitting in the open doors with sniper rifles.
He throttled the engines and headed toward the stern.
They opened fired on his men. The Cobras pulled back. Crap! They are professional snipers. Too bad they do not hesitate like the Americans. A few more precious seconds and my men would have boarded the tanker. He caught a glimpse behind as he rounded the corner and could see his men dropping into the water from the rifle fire. A Cobra followed behind. Too late to help them — I must save myself now.
His heart was pumping wildly against his chest. There would be a window of opportunity when he could hurl himself into the water and disappear without being seen. He rushed by the rudder and then around to the other side. The chopper had lost the visual and would follow the boat as it raced down the side of the tanker. This is it!
He jumped and found himself under the waves. A half minute later, he surfaced and saw that his plan was working. The chopper is still chasing the boat.
He smiled. There will be better days ahead. Allah is with me.
He dove back under and headed for the shoal.
“Full right turn!”
“Full right turn.” The order echoed into the control room of the George H.W. Bush.