“We believe that the stolen Semtex is on a large yacht called the Mankial Star. At this moment she is in the Arabian Sea, heading east toward India.”
“How do you know this, Dan?” This came from the President. Dan was desperately in need of a glass of water. His lips were as dry as sandpaper. His throat was parched. He looked to Turbee for assistance, but none was forthcoming. Turbee’s face was pointed directly downward, and he showed no signs of changing his posture.
Dan folded under the pressure. “Actually, sir,” he stuttered, “we’re not sure. This is just a theory cooked up by Turbee, and who knows—”
“Mr. President, if you’ll allow me,” interrupted Rhodes, standing and shooting Dan a black glare. “Obviously I have a better understanding of the situation than our director.” There was an obvious emphasis on the word “director.” It wasn’t hard to notice Rhodes’ feelings on the matter. Most of the team agreed; Dan was demonstrating his incompetence at every possible opportunity.
Turbee chuckled, then breathed a sigh of relief as he realized that Rhodes was going to be the one supporting his research. The second in command quickly outlined the correlations that Turbee had uncovered. He went into the history and significance of the unusual banking mechanisms, the rapid growth, and the trade in precursor chemicals.
“J-2 has developed similar information,” drawled General Pershing, the Chairman of the Joint Chiefs. J-2 was a little-known Intelligence Agency that provided all source Intelligence to the Joint Chiefs themselves. This agency was in charge of keeping the Chairman informed about foreign situations and Intelligence issues that might affect national security policies, objectives, and strategy. It was an overlap in military and Intelligence Agencies, yes, but the men in charge all agreed that it served American security. It was also a prime example of the type of redundancies that drove the congressional overseeing committees crazy. Rhodes, however, was pleased at the mention of the smaller agency. J-2 was on board with TTIC. He knew exactly who they were; it was good to have them on TTIC’s side.
“I’m happy to hear that different Intelligence Agencies are reaching similar conclusions,” he said. “However, we’ve run it past Michael Buckingham, the CIA station chief in Islamabad. He’s run it by a local high-ranking law enforcement official, who scoffed at it. He said that they knew about the company’s unusual financial transactions but that it was more an endeavor to dodge taxes than anything else. Evidently Karachi Star is highly regarded in Pakistan as a model corporate citizen, at least by the police, and is definitely not thought to be involved in the drug trade.”
“Well, there’s a major problem with what anyone in northern Pakistan says, isn’t there?” Admiral Jackson responded. “I mean, half the bastards support al-Qaeda anyway, and who knows how many high-ranking al-Qaeda guys are actually hiding on the Pakistan side of the border. Hell, by the time you get into the Northwest Frontier areas, there really isn’t any government at all, is there? I mean, Pakistan says it runs the area, but we all know that a bunch of Pashtun warlords are the only real authority there. We’ve got these guys practically running the Karzai regime, using drug money as grease.”
There was a nodding of agreement in the TTIC control room. Then the voice of the President came over the speakers. “I think I’ve seen this one before, gentlemen.” The President also forgot that there were women in the TTIC room. “You think the stolen Semtex is on the Mankial Star. That’s great. We interdict it. We search it from top to bottom. And if we don’t find Semtex? That’s kind of like saying there are weapons of mass destruction in Iraq. We had to go in. We took a crap kicking when it turned out there weren’t any. But if we hadn’t gone in, and it turned out there had been WMD, we’d have taken a beating because we did nothing. Damned if you do and damned if you don’t. General Pershing, what assets do we have in that area of the Indian Ocean that we can use to get to the Mankial Star?”
“We have a couple of fast destroyers sitting in the Gulf of Oman at present. The USS Cushing is closest, I think. We would need some updated imaging to draw a bead on the Mankial Star, but she’s probably our best bet. She tops out at well over 30 knots, and we have a couple of Sea Hawks on board, I think. We should be able to nail this. I’ll give the orders on your say so, Mr. President.”
The orders were given, and the USS Cushing headed southeast, toward the eastern shores of the Arabian Sea. At the same time, the NRO was tasked with finding the Mankial Star.
The NAVY found the Mankial Star in record time, but she was moving at a gentle speed of ten knots, and heading west, not east. She made no effort to get away, and the boarding party was made to feel most welcome.
“Have some tea with us,” Yousseff said. He was dressed in the clothes of a deck hand — a pair of faded denim cut-offs, and an even more faded T-shirt. And giving his best impression of a strong accent. “We will of course let you search this ship, but you must sit and have tea with us. We are honored that the commander of so mighty a vessel,” he added, motioning to the vast hull of the USS Cushing, looming above them, “would pay us a visit. You are most welcome here. You want to search the boat, go ahead, but don’t wake up the captain. He is having his afternoon nap.”
The other deck hands nodded. Another showed up with a tea tray, half a dozen cups, and some baked goods. “Please, please make yourself at home, gentlemen. Have some tea, kind sirs,” said Yousseff, thoroughly enjoying himself. “Please feel at home. Search the ship from stem to stern. Go ahead.”
The boarding party from the USS Cushing felt obliged to have some tea and sit and chat for a few moments. Then they went through the ship from stem to stern, checking every nook and cranny they came across. They marveled at the scissors lift assembly and the small helicopter on the aft deck. They wondered about some of the mechanical structures within her hull, and about the enormous size of her engines, but they were not there on an engineering expedition. They were there to find the Semtex. Of course, none was found.
What the boarding party did not realize was that most of the visit was recorded by hidden DVD recorders. Yousseff made sure that he was never in the camera field.
19
Dan leveled a brutal gaze at Turbee as the gangly young mathematician wandered into the TTIC control room. Late, as usual. The story of the USS Cushing interdicting the Mankial Star had spread like a tumor through the Intelligence Community. A mighty American warship, more than 500 feet in length, had, on direct orders from the President, intercepted a private yacht in the Arabian Sea, and sent a boarding party onto the smaller vessel. A boarding party that had been invited to tea, and had then found no weapons — not so much as a slingshot. They had been shown by some deck hands where all the storage areas were. Yes, the yacht did have a cavernous hull, but nothing was found there. There appeared to be some false positives, but 4.5 tons of Semtex, well… where could you hide that?
“You know, Mr. Turbee, that was a huge embarrassment for TTIC,” Dan began. “The President himself gave the order, on information you provided. We came up empty-handed. There was zero. Nothing.”