“Well, come with me to the communications room and we’ll see if we can contact that carrier back in the Persian Gulf we passed a day or so ago.”
They did.
A chopper would pick them up at 1000. It was then a little after 0246.
Murdock checked on his two wounded. The tanker had better medical supplies than Doc Mahanani carried. He used them and re-treated Adams left forearm bullet wound and the chip through Lam’s shoulder.
The captain suggested the SEALs might like some food. The tanker had enough food to feed a regiment for a month. They found the kitchen and mess hall, and the cooks worked up any breakfast to order they wanted. Breakfast steaks, fried potatoes and onions with cheese, and sides of pancakes and bacon was the most popular order.
The SEALs found bunks and sacked out for the rest of the night and by 0900 they were up and grousing around the big ship until Murdock led them on a two-mile jog around the long tanker.
Two hours later, they had landed back on the Enterprise in the Persian Gulf and Murdock wrote up his after-action report.
Stroh was not impressed. He told them to stand down for a day and rest up. Sick bay redid treatment on the two wounded and sent them back to duty.
Two hours later, Stroh came in, waving three sheets of paper Murdock knew came off the encryption machine. He groaned.
“Fisherman of the small yellowtail, I have some news here that you are not going to be too thrilled about,” the CIA man said. “You want it straight or with a sugar coating?”
7
The emir of the independent state of Qatar, bulging out into the Persian Gulf from the middle of Saudi Arabia, took his usual early-morning stroll around his gardens. He had spent thousands of dollars to make the gardens grow and thrive. He enjoyed plants and exotic animals. He stopped at his prize row of roses and snipped one off to smell.
At that precise moment, a large-caliber rifle round slammed through the morning coolness and smashed into the emir’s chest. Emir and Prime Minister Humand bin Kahalifa alt-Thani jolted backward and sprawled on the carefully clipped lawn. A guard behind him ran forward and bent over the emir, but it was too late. The bullet had blasted through the emir’s chest, taking half of his heart with it before it tore through ribs and exploded out of his back.
They never did find the bullet.
Sirens went off. A hundred palace guards rushed outward from the garden toward the only place that had a view into the garden. It was a small grove of trees the emir had planted several years ago. When the guards stormed into the grove, they found only trampled grass, a discarded sack with leftovers from a meal, and one fifty-caliber shell casing.
Before the guards could recover, two companies of the Qatar elite infantry rushed into the palace and took over the grounds, the palace, the automobiles, and the helicopter that sat on its pad. Six guards protested and were shot down where they stood.
General El Hadar, former chief of the emir’s military, quickly took over the vital controls and services of the small country and declared himself as the new premier. He would rule by proclamation.
General El Hadar watched as his new palace guard assumed all of the functions of the palace, discharged the civilian help, and arrested any of the old guards who did not surrender. He smiled as his infantry shot down four guards who had barricaded themselves in a storeroom. None of them escaped.
His proclamation came only three hours after the emir was assassinated. The words went out over the state-owned radio and television station.
“The people of Qatar must remain calm. This has been a simple transition of power from the emir to General El Hadar. I will lead my people in new directions. I promise enough food, clothing, and education for all of my people. We will grow and prosper and will create new foreign associations to make our small nation even stronger. All normal government services will continue as before. My door is always open for anyone who wishes to talk to me or bring complaints.”
General El Hadar drove from the television station back to the palace and rested. Later that day, he put in a telephone call and talked for more than an hour. When it finished, the premier smiled. Yes, it was good to have powerful friends in high places. The cooperation would continue, and the military equipment would be coming within the week. It was good to be strong, even if your nation had less than 700,000 citizens. It was good to be strong.
The medium-sized tanker lay in her berth next to the loading dock and gulped down the crude petroleum that flowed into her thirty-six holds. She could take thirty-five million gallons of crude, and she would be filled and under way within an hour.
The guards on the pipeline had been tired and inattentive. The next moment, they were dead, and another tanker slid in beside the dock and the Iraqi oil gushed out.
The oil had been long embargoed by the United Nations in retaliation for the Iraqi attack on Kuwait. Now was the time to strike. Now was the time to move out as many tankers as the pipelines would fill. Now was the time for the Iraqi oil to flow once again into the world markets.
Four of the medium-sized tankers had already been filled and now sailed silently and secretly down the Persian Gulf headed for oil-hungry markets that would pay more than the market price.
Ar Ramandi watched the hoses being connected and could hear the oil surging through the tubes. Now Iraq would at last have more hard currency to use for its master plan. More cash, more power.
A workman attaching one of the large hoses tripped and fell, dropping sixty feet between the side of the tanker and the dock. For a moment, there was a piercing cry of pain and anguish, then the big boat surged slightly toward the dock, crushing the flailing man against the piling, and the cries stopped suddenly.
Ar Ramandi lifted his brows. The men were cautioned to be careful but quick. They could be discovered at any time and could face severe penalties. It was a risk that all of them were willing to take since the orders came from so high in the Iraqi government.
Ar Ramandi smiled as the tanker signaled it was loaded, the hoses came out, and the big ship at once loosened the huge tie-down ropes and a moment later eased away from the dock and moved toward the outer bay where it would slip into the gulf unnoticed.
Twelve of the medium-sized tankers loaded and left before the sun came up. By then, the locked and guarded pipeline heads were back to normal and the Iraqi guards patrolled the area. With any luck, the tankers would be out of the Persian Gulf and heading for their customers before the U.N. or anyone else realized that they contained the embargoed Iraqi oil.
Ar Ramandi slid into his big, government car and turned up the air-conditioning. He had the driver take him back to Baghdad. It was cool and pleasant in the car. He would sleep most of the way.
Emir Usa ban Sulman al-Khalifa, the head of state in this traditional monarchy, attended an outdoor soccer game when the national Bahrainian team played against a team from Qatar. The first period was over with the game tied 1 to 1. The emir came out of his traditional white canvas tent to urge on his home team.
Two men with submachine guns ran from the crowd and fired their weapons on full automatic. The emir was hit by more than twenty rounds. When the weapons ran out of rounds, the crowd dove on the assassins, beating them to death before soldiers could get to the killers to try to identify them or find out who they were working for or what political faction they represented.