The SEAL team member said, “Not sure, sir. That’s above my paygrade. What do you want us to do with it?”
Wockovich shook his head. He had to give it to the SEALs. They were no-nonsense cut to the bone types.
Someone asked, “If they blow it, will it go nuclear?”
“No, but it will be like a dirty bomb, leaking radiation everywhere,” said another man.
Finally, the SEAL commander said, “Transmit those images by SAT and hold tight.”
There was mumbling by the SEALs. All three had covered their mics and were obviously discussing their situation.
“Do you have a comm problem?” asked a voice.
“No, sir,” the lead SEAL said. “Must have been a glitch. Sending images now.”
Suddenly, all hell broke loose. The SEAL watching their back was the first to open fire, taking out at least one man. The other two SEALs took up defensive positions and waited for targets to appear.
The lead SEAL got on his comm to the team leader still on the bridge, saying they were taking heavy fire in the hold.
Then silence. Almost silence.
First, a man screamed something in Russian. Then the man switched to English and told everyone to stop shooting.
“A stray bullet could set off the weapon,” the Russian said.
The SEALs glanced at each other, knowing that they were firing away from the missile. So, this man had to be talking to his own men.
“I am first officer Dmitri Vladimirovich Samsonov,” the man said. “There is no need for further gunfire.”
“Get your ass out here and kiss the deck,” the SEAL demanded.
The first officer appeared from behind some oil drilling equipment, his hands in the air. “You are American marines?”
“Sailors,” the SEAL corrected, his gun pointed right at the Russian officer. “I told you to get on the deck.”
The Russian officer was a rough-looking character. He didn’t seem like the other merchant officers the SEALs had encountered. Which was probably what the SEALs were thinking.
But, finally, the officer went to his knees and got to the deck, spreading his arms out wide.
One of the SEALs rushed to the man, checking him for any weapons. Satisfied, the SEAL pulled the man’s hands behind his back and clasped them together with a zip tie.
A different, excited voice suddenly came over the comm saying, “This man is a lieutenant colonel in the GRU.”
Then a man came out from behind the equipment with a gun. Two of the SEALs dropped the man with at least four rounds.
Getting back on the comm, the senior SEAL said, “Orders?”
This was a tough call, Wockovich thought. It wasn’t like the men could destroy the nuke. But could they afford to simply leave? The Russian ship was dead in the water.
The intel officer turned to the captain and said, “Sir, we have a problem. We weren’t able to jam the sub’s communications. They just got an order from their fleet to sink us.”
Commander Wockovich got on his secure comm to Fourth Fleet and relayed what his intel officer had just discovered. Then he waited for a response as Fleet pushed it up the chain of command. Luckily, all of the principals were together in the Situation Room of the White House.
Hopefully, he would have his orders soon. Because if this sub fired on them now at this range, there was no way they could miss.
37
The helicopter came in hot at first and seemed to pull up just at the last minute as the pilot found a spot to land on the corporate site of the oil company property behind the relative security of the metal fence and gate.
Karl thanked the Caracas station chief with a quick handshake as he exited the helo. Maya simply stepped out of the craft gingerly and stepped away slowly, until Karl caught up with her and wrapped his arm around her.
Far enough away now, the two of them watched as the helicopter rose up and retracted its landing gear. Then it turned and slowly headed back toward the direction of Caracas.
Once the noisy craft was gone, Karl turned with Maya and noticed the vehicle they had ridden in to Caracas was back outside of the building where they first met Juan Ruiz.
Then the frumpy man walked out of the temporary building, pulled his pants up higher on his hips, and stepped down toward the parking lot.
“What took you?” Ruiz said. As he got closer, it was apparent that his face had taken a slight beating. But nothing too serious.
“How’d you get here?” Maya said, and then gave the oil company man a huge hug.
“Well,” Ruiz said. “The Venezuelan Army assholes roughed me up a bit until I dropped a few names. Turns out I’m pretty good friends with a couple of generals in their army. It really helps to grease the palms of government in places like this. The price of doing business.”
Karl said, “So, the State Department didn’t secure your release.”
Ruiz laughed so hard his belly shook up and down. “Are you kidding? Nothing happens this fast at the State Department. Once my friends in the army found out I had been detained, I was driven straight to my plane, which I flew directly here.”
Karl wasn’t sure how it had happened, but he was glad that the Venezuelans had let Ruiz go. “Glad you’re safe.”
“How did it go up in the jungle?” Ruiz asked.
It wasn’t like Karl could tell this man what they had found, so he simply said, “Remind me never to hike around in the Venezuelan jungle again.”
“I can see from your hands that you took almost as much of a beating as I did.” Ruiz hesitated, his eyes scanning the both of them. “I hate to ask this, but do you happen to have my camera and binoculars?”
Maya pulled the binoculars from her bag and handed them over.
Karl let out a slight groan. “Yeah, about the camera. Turns out the lens doesn’t hold up against bullets.”
Ruiz waved him off. “Don’t worry about it. The company will buy me a better one.”
“Sorry.”
“Not a problem. Where do you two go from here?”
“I see you got the truck back,” Karl said.
“Yeah, one of my guys drove it back from Caracas. You need a ride somewhere?”
Nodding, Karl said, “Just to the pier.”
“Outstanding.” Ruiz checked his watch. “There’s a bar I hang out at down there still open. You two look like you could use a beer or three.”
Ruiz drove them down to the small port area, where locals mingled with fishermen, who would undoubtedly need to be out on the sea in just a few hours.
The bar had a nautical theme of weathered wood, the walls adorned with old photographs of fishermen with their haul of fish, along with the occasional individual with a massive fish taller than them hanging at their side. Being right next to the water, the place smelled like three-day-old sea creatures, salt water, and stale beer.
Karl took a spot at a table in a corner, with Maya to his left and Ruiz at the bar getting them three beers.
“I’m tired, Karl,” Maya said. “Let’s just get one beer and find a room.”
Looking at his watch, Karl said, “We have only four hours before we pick up the boat down the pier. You can sleep on the boat. Then I’ll get you a nice room on Aruba. We can stay at the same place as last time for a couple of days.”
“Will the Agency allow that?” she asked.
“They will,” he assured her.
Ruiz came over with three local lagers and set them on the table. All three of them toasted and took long draws of beer.
“It looks like you know a lot of people in here,” Karl said.
Shrugging, Ruiz said, “I’m a regular.”
Karl’s phone suddenly buzzed. Glancing at it, he saw that it was Roddy at the Agency. He needed to call in. “I have to take this,” he said. Karl picked up his beer and found a spot in the far corner of the bar near the entrance to the bathrooms. It was much quieter there.