Aboard Al Calipha

 

“Al Calipha, Al Calipha, this is United States Navy vessel Independence. Be advised you are transiting territorial waters under protection of the U.S. government by agreement with the Republic of the Palaus. Heave to and stand by for close inspection.”

It was the third time the message had been broadcast over VHS Channels 13 and 16. And for the third time Ali, standing next to Ignacio Felodon on the yacht’s enclosed bridge, ordered the captain to ignore it. The captain checked his radar repeater and did a calculation in his head.

“We are just over five kilometers off the coast. Under maritime law, the order is valid.”

“The order is nonsense.” Ali stood staring at the dark shape looming off the yacht’s port bow. “They won’t shoot at an unarmed civilian vessel. Continue on your course.”

“They might not shoot but they can bring unwanted attention. I’d suggest you hide what you don’t want them to see and we let them approach. They may just want a closer look. If they see nothing suspicious, they go away.”

The captain was prepared to provide further argument when a blinding spear of light stabbed into his eyes. Ali reeled away from the windows as the warship’s high-power xenon searchlight swept over the bridge nearly blinding the sailors on watch at the yacht’s conning stations.

“Al Calipha, Al Calipha…” The radio erupted and the voice that boomed through the bridge speakers sounded ominous. “This is your last warning. If you do not heave-to immediately, we are prepared to fire.”

Ali grabbed at the captain’s elbow. “Buy us some time to hide the equipment and samples. Send a signal. Tell them we have radio failure.” Ali and Ignacio Felodon scrambled for the exit to go below as the Al Calipha’s captain called for a hand from his communications section to mount a blinker-light and send a message to the threatening warship.

At a point in the second deck passageways where a transverse corridor led to the yacht’s kitchen, Felodon cut a sharp left turn and headed for his shipboard contact. He had $5,000 in his pocket he had stolen from Dr. Nasuton’s stash. The Filipino cook’s helper in the yacht’s crew had agreed that was enough to buy his silence and cooperation should Felodon require it.

 * * *

Five hundred yards aft of the Al Calipha and gaining on her under the powerful thrust of two muffled 300-horsepower outboards, Lt. Kerry Dale Hunter watched the cone of brilliant light play across the yacht’s superstructure. The bridge crew had to be blinded. Carefully avoiding the searchlight beam, he hit the power to his night vision goggles and swept the after weather decks for movement. There were two men scrambling on the starboard side who appeared to be messing around with one of the davits used to lower small craft or cargo from the deck into the water. Whatever they were doing clearly wasn’t critical. Both men quickly headed forward and disappeared through a hatch. The decks were clear as far as he could see. They needed to remain that way for another few minutes. He nodded for the coxswain to increase speed and keyed his radio.

“Skipper, we’re closing fast. What’s happening on your end?”

“They’ve slowed to around eight knots. I think the xenon scared the shit out of them. There’s some douche bag on the bridge sending blinking light. Says they’re having radio trouble. We just repeated the heave-to message with our own light. Whaddaya think?”

“Can you see anybody out on the decks? Anybody aft? It looks deserted from here.”

“Doesn’t mean there isn’t a bunch of ’em on the interior getting ready to repel boarders. How about I put a shot across their bow? Jesus Christ, I’ve always wanted to do that.”

“We’re right behind ’em now. Fire away.”

The SEAL coxswain turned the wheel over to Shake Davis and shifted his bulk to a position just behind teammates holding grapnels that would hook four aluminum boarding ladders onto the yacht’s starboard quarter. Hopefully, they’d get up those ladders and aboard the yacht while everyone on watch was focused on the Independence looming on the opposite side.