The admiral spread his arms wide, and growled, “So what’s the plan? We can’t just sit back and do nothing.”
“Let the Deltas secure the Uranium,” Killer said.
“They’re sure to kill the hostages as soon as they get wind of it,” the admiral said.
“You’re forgetting we have a man on board,” the director told the admiral. “That will be something our agent will be working on. If he can affect the escape of the crew then this will be a much easier sale to the White House.”
“I assume you’re briefing the president as soon as you’re through with us.”
The director smiled mirthlessly at the admiral. “It’s the middle of the night in D.C. I’ve already informed the White House Chief of Staff. He’s scheduled five minutes for me in the morning. The president is of the firm opinion that the Uranium is at the bottom of the Strait of Hormuz and that considering the sensitivity of the area it is unrecoverable.”
“He wants to drop this?” the admiral said, incredulous.
“In the worst way,” the director replied. “He wants the problem to just go away.”
“Then we should make it go away,” growled Kincaid. He took the admiral’s eyes with his own steely gaze. “Let Slade get the hostages off the ship and then give my team the green light. We’ll get that Uranium out of there with no one the wiser.”
“Then the crew can return to their ship,” Gann nodded. “We can blame pirates from Oman. No one needs to know.”
The admiral squirmed, and said, “That’s going rogue — isn’t it? I’ve served four presidents with stars on my shoulder. I don’t know if I can go that far.”
“Hopefully we won’t have to,” the director said quickly. “That’s pushing the boundaries; however, I have hope that the president will see the necessity of keeping the Uranium from ever getting to Jakarta.”
“Let’s hope so,” the admiral agreed. Then he shook his head. “How’s your boy going to get the crew off? That’s fifty people he’s got to move under the nose of the Iranians.”
“I’m sure he’s working on it admiral,” the director said confidently, hoping inwardly that Slade was indeed thinking along those lines.
As it was, Slade was indeed thinking along those lines, albeit in his own way. He’d waited until Eva and the captain were asleep before stealing into their cabin and hiding in the bathroom. The shower stall wasn’t huge but it served as a makeshift bunk; he’d had more uncomfortable nights before.
It was Eva that woke him up in the morning, or rather her exclamation, “What are you doing?” that roused him. Slade jumped to his feet before realizing the bathroom was still pitch dark. So it wasn’t him that she was audibly upset with; was it Nikahd or some of the Iranians? His blood boiled.
No, it wasn’t any of those.
The hardly audible sound of a TV commentator buzzed in his ears. He knew the voice — Paul Allen — the voice of the Minnesota Vikings. Slade was now fully awake.
“Do you have to watch the game at five in the morning?”
“Dear, it’s on live!” Christian Fletcher responded.
A groan of exasperation approached the door. “You and your Vikings!”
She turned the light on in the bath, did her business and brushed her teeth. Tucking her flowing mane of black hair under a yellow shower cap blotched with bright green leopard spots, she hung up her gown and opened the shower curtain to find Slade appraising her nakedness with a smile.
“Hello Eva, it’s good to see you again,” he said in a soft voice.
Eva was too surprised to say or do anything for a moment; then she snatched her gown from the hook and covered herself.
“You!” she started to say, but Jeremiah took one step and covered her mouth with his hand. Holding a finger to his lips he brought her into the shower and closed the curtain.
To her consternation he turned on the shower, holding a finger to his lips. “Keep it down!” he whispered in her ear. “Nikahd’s a clever fellow. I wouldn’t put it past him to have your cabin bugged.” He took her gown from her and hung it back on the hook. “You’re supposed to be showering; so shower.”
She glared at him, whispering harshly, “What are you doing here — Mr. Slade — are you the one behind this?”
“Actually until a few hours ago I thought you might be involved with this yourself.”
“Me? You saw what they did to those poor crew members out there didn’t you?”
“That’s what these people do to everyone who doesn’t believe as they do Eva!” he said seriously. “I would have warned you about Nikahd if I could have. As it is, I’m going to try to make sure it doesn’t get any worse. I’m going to need your help, but first things first, we need to keep up appearances. That means you shower,” he told her firmly, handing her the soap. “Get to it. Nikahd will expect you to be nice and clean.” When she hesitated, he scowled. “Come on, I’m serious. We’ve already got nine dead friendlies; we don’t want any more. Nikahd is not one to be trifled with.”
“All right,” she said, turning away from him and dutifully scrubbing up. “Who are you really; and what’s this all about?”
“I’m CIA and this is all about the Iranians using your ship to get three tons of enriched Uranium to Soekarno,” he said gravely.
“Soekarno, surely you don’t think he’s involved in this!” she said sternly.
“Keep it down!” Slade told her ardently. He shuffled around the tight shower so he could see her face and read her eyes. It was close, very close. Dark eyes locked with Eva’s deep brown orbs, he continued, “Why wouldn’t Soekarno be involved? You don’t know him like we do Eva. International terrorism is new to Soekarno, maybe, but he’s one of the great manipulators of this world. His file at the Company reads like War and Peace!”
“Then you should know he draws the line at these terrorist scum!” she said with surprising violence. “He wouldn’t acquire Uranium for terrorists, not for all the wealth and power in the world! He hates them!”
“Don’t try and convince me that he has a conscience,” Slade told her emphatically.
The accusation appeared to stun Eva, but she countered with logic and not emotion. “What good would it do him if terrorists like ISIS triumph? He’s a capitalist. Soekarno doesn’t want to give up his wealth to socialists and fanatics. He’s spent his entire life trying to get out of poverty. Do you really think he’d give that up to hand over power to a bunch of unwashed imams who would behead him for his lifestyle? Think about it Slade!”
“Are you telling me this ploy with the sand was for real?”
“That’s what I’m telling you,” she said.
“So it’s Nikahd and the Iranians who are using Soekarno for cover,” he said soberly. “They want the Uranium in Jakarta — why?”
“I have no idea,” Eva told him. “What are you going to do?”
“I’m going to try and prevent the Uranium from getting to Jakarta,” he said. “First things first. Step one is getting you, your husband and the crew off this freighter!”
“How are you going to do that? There are forty of us and hundreds of them!”
“I don’t know yet, but we’ve got to get you off this ship,” he told her emphatically. “I’ve got to talk to your Mr. Christian first.”
“Don’t you dare make that joke with him; especially in the shower!”
He sighed, plucking the soap from her dainty hand and scrubbing the diesel oil off the wetsuit, muttering, “James Bond gets all the fun. Somehow I’m in the shower with a beautiful woman and I end up scrubbing myself! Story of my life.”
“Get over it Slade! I’m out of your league. You got an eyeful; that’s more than you deserve!” Eva snapped, stepping out of the shower and grabbing a towel.