“Are your men ready?” Wockovich asked the SEAL team leader.
“Yes, sir.”
The captain glanced to a young petty officer monitoring the weather. “How are the seas?”
“Three to six feet. Winds out of the east at ten knots with gusts to twenty-five.”
That’s what the captain feared. “You’ll have to go in on a Zodiac. Is that a problem?”
“Only if you’re not a SEAL,” the SEAL team leader said with a smirk.
The captain nodded approvingly. “Ready to launch off the port in fifteen.”
“We’ll be there in ten.”
With that, the SEAL team leader went to gather his team.
Wockovich was nervous. Understandably so. He had no idea how the Russians in that Kilo-class sub would react. But he did have a plan to deceive them for a while, and that would have to be good enough.
Ten minutes later, just as the SEAL team leader had promised, they were ready to board the Zodiac boat that was ready to be lowered into the sea.
The XO nuzzled close to the captain and whispered, “Are you as excited as I am right now?”
“Easy, commander,” Wockovich whispered back.
“I didn’t mean sexually, sir,” she said in explanation.
“I know. Just trying to break the tension.” He smiled slightly and said to the CIC crew, “Bring up video of the port camera.”
The main screen now showed an infrared image of the SEALs loading into the Zodiac. They were barely aboard when the deck crew lowered the small boat to the water and immediately released the cable. On the screen, the captain could see the Zodiac for a few seconds only as it quickly vectored away from the destroyer.
“Bring up the SEAL Team cameras,” the captain ordered.
The large screen split to five separate boxes showing the camera feed from each SEAL Team member. Water flew over the bow of the Zodiac as the small craft jumped the waves toward the southwest.
The captain said, “Drop the dummy.”
On a smaller screen, which showed the stern of the destroyer, a two-man crew lifted a life-sized dummy, wearing full flight deck gear, over the fantail of the ship.
“Comm. Send out the call,” the captain ordered.
Over the ship’s speaker system, a voice said, “Man overboard, man overboard. Port side. Launch the life raft and prepare for a hard turn to port.”
In the captain’s headset, his Officer Of the Deck said, “Prepared for turn, sir.”
“Wait for my order. We need them to think the Zodiac was the rescue launch. Are you sure the communication went out on an open channel?”
“Yes, sir,” the OOD said. “Anyone within fifty miles would have heard us.”
The captain checked his watch. “Hard turn to port.”
“Prepare for hard turn to port,” came the order over the intercom.
The destroyer immediately cut hard to the left, and the captain was forced to hold on tight to the arms of his chair. He felt his XO holding on to the back of his chair as the deck angled hard. Anything that wasn’t secured properly, which wasn’t much since they knew this was coming, would have gone flying to the deck.
Captain 1st Rank Vasili Petrov sat on the edge of his rack reading an espionage thriller by an obscure American author translated to Croatian.
Suddenly, there was a sharp knock on his cabin door.
Checking his watch, Petrov knew it had to be important at this late hour. He ordered the man to come in. It was his XO, Captain 2nd Rank Ivan Gushin.
“What is it, Ivan?” Petrov asked.
“Sir, the American destroyer has just turned hard to port and will cut across our path in moments.”
Petrov stood up. “Why?”
“We picked up communications just prior to their turn. They have a man overboard.”
The captain was already dressed, but he now slung on his coat and headed to the door. His XO was right on his heels as they rushed through the passageway to the bridge. The captain informed his crew that he had the bridge and he put on a headset.
“Current status,” Petrov asked.
“They were heading right for us, but have now turned ninety degrees.”
They were searching for a sailor overboard, so that made sense, Petrov thought.
“Orders, sir?” the XO asked.
“What is the status of our friends from Murmansk?” Petrov asked.
“Same course, sir.”
“Contact the merchant ship for status,” Petrov ordered.
“Aye, sir.”
The only member of the merchant ship who knew they were even trailing their ship was Dmitri Vladimirovich Samsonov, a GRU officer. The captain listened in on the conversation between his communications officer and Samsonov. The GRU officer reported that all was well. Why? No problem. Have a good evening.
The captain motioned with his hand across his throat, meaning to cut off communication.
Immediately, the captain said, “Set an intercept course with the American destroyer. Run silent.”
A notice went across the intercom saying they were running silent.
The petty officer at the sonar station turned to the captain and said, “Sir, they’re turning and tracking us.”
Commander Wockovich smiled at his XO next to him. “They’ve taken the bait. Let the games begin.”
“They’ve gone silent, sir,” sonar said.
That’s exactly what Wockovich expected them to do. “Status of the SEAL team?”
“Less than a mile behind the Russian merchant ship,” said the intel officer at his station.
“Outstanding,” the captain said. Now for the final blow. “Electronic countermeasures. Let’s send that merchant ship back to the Eighteenth Century. Are you sure we won’t be impacted by the EMP?”
“Yes, sir,” his intel officer confirmed. “It’s a highly-directed pulse.”
Commander Wockovich got on the comm and informed the SEAL team to shut down all communications equipment for the next few minutes.
“Roger that,” came the response from the SEAL team leader.
On the screen a number of heads moved about as the team members turned off their comm units.
Wockovich switched to communicate with the aircraft that had been circling high above them. This was the same aircraft that had turned the Venezuelan compound into darkness. “You have a go on the target,” the captain said to the Air Force aircraft.
“Twenty seconds to EMP,” the aircraft commander responded.
As the time ticked off, Wockovich tightened his grip on the arms of his chair. The digital clock clicked through the numbers.
Finally, the aircraft commander came back on and said, “EMP deployed. They should be dead in the water.”
Switching back to the SEAL team, the captain said, “Confirm EMP.”
“As advertised,” the SEAL team leader said. “Dark as the inside of your belly. Proceeding to target.”
The XO tapped the captain on the shoulder. “It worked.”
“It’s not over yet,” Wockovich said. “Now it’s up to the SEALS.”
Moments later, the video feeds for all five on the SEAL team came back on the screen, showing they were closing in on the Russian ship Magadan.
35
Karl and Maya got to their packs and Maya was able to retrieve her extra full magazines, which she put in her pockets.
Checking his watch, Karl saw that they had to hurry or they wouldn’t make their extraction point.
“Let’s go,” he said.
They found their way onto the secluded road where Ruiz had dropped them off, and saw that the Venezuelans had taken the oil company vehicle. Where had they brought Ruiz? Karl had no idea. But he had not observed the SUV at the compound, so they must have brought him somewhere else. Besides, Karl had been reassured that Ruiz would be handled diplomatically by the U.S. Embassy in Caracas. The Venezuelan military could only disappear Ruiz if nobody knew he had been taken, which was not the case.