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Deffler straightened suddenly in his chair on the left-side station of the FC3 when an alert popped up on his screen. The artificial intelligence scanning the video feed from one UAV detected what it evaluated as an anomaly. It was a group of pixels different from its surroundings of sufficient size and duration that qualified for a notification to the human operator, who was otherwise unlikely to notice. Deffler switched to manual on the camera and activated the zoom. These were often items of no interest—a flock of seabirds or a patch of seaweed.
At first glance, Deffler could see nothing. He cranked the zoom using the vernier knob until the image became pixilated, then backed off slightly. “Ah, there you are,” he murmured. It was a ship, alright, but it had a light-blue painted hull and dull white masts, making it challenging to pick out in the bright sea haze. He looked across the Bridge at Ben and said, “OOD, I have a visual contact with Bird Two. It’s definitely a ship, but too far away right now to classify.”
Ben walked over, looked at the screen, then smiled and said, “Well, that broke the monotony. Can you close on the target for a better look, Chief?”
“We have some margin, sir,” Deffler replied. The UAVs had to stay within a certain distance of Kauai to maintain contact with their line-of-sight radios. At their current altitude, combined with the height of the ground control antenna on Kauai’s Flying Bridge, this distance was around twenty-one nautical miles.
“Right. Break the pattern. Close to the safety limit, and then we’ll see if we want to move over,” Ben said.
“Very good, sir.” Deffler manipulated his controls. The UAV banked right and headed for the target, accelerating from its maximum endurance speed to its forty-five-knot long-range cruise speed.
“Are you going to call the captain?” Haley asked. She and Williams had paused their conversation on Deffler’s first call to Ben.
“I can hold off for a couple of minutes, ma’am,” Ben replied. “No sense pulling him off something important for what could be a supertanker. I’ve been down this road before.”
“I see.”
After a few minutes, the UAV closed sufficiently to firm up the electro-optical picture significantly. “OK, sir, I classify this target as a coastal freighter, heading southwest, twelve to fifteen knots.”
Ben gazed intently at the image on the screen. Although it was still difficult to make out much detail, he agreed with Deffler on the classification: it was a small ship, not much over one-hundred-fifty feet long, with the pilothouse aft, clearly heading southwest. But that course made little sense for a ship of that size—a coastal freighter should parallel the shoreline. This ship’s course was consistent with a transatlantic crossing, which you did not want to do with a small coastal freighter. Besides getting beat to hell in any rough weather, you could not carry a large enough cargo to make such a long trip worth the expense in fuel and time. He eyeballed a rough intercept course and then turned to Pickins on the helm. “Right ten degrees rudder, steer one-five-zero.”
“Right ten degrees rudder, steer one-five-zero, aye, sir.”
Ben picked up the phone and dialed Sam.
“Captain.”
“OOD, sir. Could you come to the Bridge, please? A UAV has spotted a coastal freighter I am classifying as suspicious, and I have changed course to intercept.”
“I’m on the way. Go ahead and spin up.”
“Aye, aye, sir,” Ben said, then dialed the engineering watchstander in Main Control.
“Main Control, Brown.”
“Brown, OOD. Put one and three online. We’re heading for a target.”
“Put main engines one and three online, sir. Estimate two minutes.”
“Very well, thanks.” Ben hung up the phone. With the electric motors running at their slow patrol speed, there was only a small power demand on the ship’s electrical grid. One of the three diesel generators was sufficient, and the other two were shut down to conserve fuel. With the high speed and maneuvering expected during an intercept, they needed the power from all three. Ben saw Sam coming through the bridge door and announced, “Captain on the Bridge!”
“Thank you. Carry on, please,” Sam said. He stepped over next to Ben at the console and asked, “What have you got, XO?”
“Captain, we have a small coastal freighter, ID unknown, estimated bearing one-one-three at twenty-two point five, estimated speed twelve. This is still based on EO from UAV Two; the target is not above our radar horizon yet. MDEs one and three estimated online in one minute.” As if in response, a muffled whirring followed by the grumble of a diesel engine sounded below.
“All good. Recommendations?”
“We’ll need to increase speed to reach him before he enters the pass, sir, but I don’t see a problem pacing him. I recommend having Bird Two light off Ghost and park it overhead when he’s within twenty.”
“That’s good too. Make it so. Also, move the other bird in that direction at max endurance.”
“Very good, sir.” Ben bent over Deffler and gave the order as Sam stepped back and sat in the command chair.
Haley leaned close to Williams and whispered, “What is Ghost?”
“It’s an active camouflage system, ma’am,” Williams whispered in reply. “It senses the brightness and color of the sky above the UAV and projects it on the underside. The bird is almost invisible with a clear sky like we have now or a solid overcast.”
“Cool!” Haley whispered.
“Yes, ma’am. There’s a lot of stuff like that around here,” Williams said with a nod.
The phone buzzed, and Ben answered. “Bridge, OOD.”
“Main Control, sir. All MDEs are online, full power available on the grid.” It was Drake’s baritone voice.
“Thanks, COB. You’re pretty quick to the scene today.”
“When there are no guns, I ride to the sound of the starter, sir.”
Ben chuckled. “You take what you can get, I guess. Thanks again.” He hung up the phone. “All MDEs online, Captain. Full power is available. I’m coming up to twenty-four knots.”
“Very well,” Sam said with a smile. “I hope this one is interesting—I would hate to see all this enthusiasm wasted on another dud.” He nodded at Williams and said, “Very fortuitous for you, Ms. Reardon: you get to see our top guy run through a suspicious contact procedure.”
Kauai’s bow lifted a few degrees as she started planing when approaching twenty-four knots. Fortunately, the seas were light, and they only had an occasional thump as the boat sped through the water. An alert notice drew Williams’s eye to the navigation panel. “Radar contact, sir, at one-one-five and twenty point three. Running a plot now. Negative AIS.” The target was not transmitting the Automatic Identification System, known as AIS, information required by international law.
After sharing an eyebrows-raised glance with Ben, Sam said, “Chief, I want to get a name and homeport as soon as possible. Coax the bird toward the stern, please.”
“Will do, Captain,” Deffler said. “Shouldn’t be more than a couple of minutes now.”
“Very well.”
“Captain, target’s course is two-four-zero, speed thirteen knots. He’s heading for the center of the Turks Island Passage,” Williams said, then turned to Ben. “Recommend one-five-two at twenty-four knots, XO.”
“Very well. Helm, steer one-five-two.”
“Steer one-five-two, sir.”
“Ship’s name coming into view, sir,” Deffler said. “Um, not sure how to pronounce it. I spell: Mike, India, Hotel, Oscar, space, Delta, Uniform, Juliet, Alpha, Mike. Homeport says Dubrovnik. Where the hell is Dubrovnik?”
“Croatia,” Haley answered. “He’s a long way from home.”
Sam leaned forward. “Agreed. Let’s not take any chances. XO, sound Condition One, please.”
“Aye, aye, sir,” Ben said, then stepped over, grabbed the microphone, and activated the public address system known as the 1MC. “Now, General Quarters, General Quarters, set Condition One throughout the ship. This is not, repeat, not a drill.” He hung up the microphone and pressed the paddle switch on the red general alarm box, starting a loud ringing gong sound over the 1MC lasting twenty seconds.
Williams stood, walked to and opened the locker at the rear of the Bridge, and took out Lightweight Helmets and Modular Tactical Vests. Haley appeared at his side and asked, “Can I help?”
“Yes, ma’am. Could you take these to the captain and XO, please?” Williams said, handing her two pairs of vests and helmets.
“On it.”
Williams took out four more sets, handed one to Haley when she returned, stepped across the Bridge, and handed one each to Deffler and Pickins. Then he donned the last one himself and sat in the center seat of the console. Hopkins appeared next to Ben, pulling on a vest and helmet she picked up from the locker.
“What’s going on, sir?” Hopkins was the OOD for Condition One and, after a quick rundown from Ben on the situation, relieved him of the duty. Ben took advantage of the break to get a good look at the Miho Dujam in the UAV video display. It was a small ship, a break-bulk carrier by the look of the cargo booms on the single mast and the size of the hatch covers on the holds. It was an old ship, or old-looking at least, with plenty of rust visible. Ben’s suspicions were confirmed—there wasn’t a chance in hell that ship would make a profit hauling any legitimate cargo across the Atlantic.
Ben noted the ship had an unusually large boat and davit system on the port side of the superstructure. That is one hell of a lifeboat. “Chief, can you get me a tight shot at their small boat, please?” he asked Deffler.
“Coming up, sir.”
As the aircraft crossed behind the ship from the starboard side, Deffler manipulated the camera controls, and the image of the stowed boat filled the screen. It was a rigid hull inflatable like Kauai’s RHIB, but far larger, with a wide, flat deck and three outboard engines. Such a craft would have little purpose in the coastal trade in the ship’s home territory of the Adriatic and Aegean Seas, but for running illicit cargoes ashore in out-of-the-way coves and bays, it would be perfect.
Haley had stepped beside Sam’s chair to get out of the way of the console. She watched the action around her and was clearly impressed by the crew’s quick transition from normal cruising to battle-ready. She turned and asked Sam, “Where do you want me, Captain?”
“Right there is good,” Sam replied.
Ben stepped up on Sam’s other side in his vest and helmet. “I’ve been relieved of the OOD by Chief Hopkins, sir. The ship has an unusually large RHIB on the port davits—looks like a runner for offloading cargo rather than a lifeboat.”
“OK. Get with Zuccaro and set up a SIPR chat with JIATF South,” Sam said, referring to Joint Interagency Task Force South, their operational commander on this mission. “Explain the situation and get any intel they have on the Miho Dujam.”
“Very good, sir,” Ben said. He stepped over to the console and kneeled beside Zuccaro.
Zuccaro glanced at Ben and said, “I heard him, sir. I’m working up a SATCOM link now.”
He smiled back. “Nice. Let me know when you’re ready, and I’ll give you the details.”
“Roger that, sir. Standby.” After a brief period of concentration and furious typing, she said, “Alright, I’m ready, sir.”
Ben dictated the details and timeline of the event and requested any information on the Miho Dujam. After more typing, Zuccaro uploaded the message and received an acknowledgment from JIATF-S. Ben’s previous experience with intel requests was it took hours or days to get a response. Hopefully, being in hot pursuit of the suspect will light a fire under somebody!
“Looks like he’s on to us, sir,” Williams reported. “I’m picking up an increase in speed, now fifteen knots. No change in course; he’s still heading for the pass.” Ben glanced at the Tactical Situation or TACSIT screen. The red icon symbolizing the Miho Dujam included a line segment pointing southwest and a digital course and speed. The latter increased from fifteen to sixteen as Ben watched. They can’t get much more out of that bucket. She must be at least fifty years old!
“I’m getting an update from JIATF South, sir,” Zuccaro reported. “Nothing on EPIC or EID, and they’re still waiting on DoD and Interpol.”
Ben breathed a soft sigh of relief. He had expected nothing from EPIC, the El Paso Intelligence Center law enforcement database mainly dealt with drug smuggling from South and Central America—he doubted the Miho Dujam had ever ventured into the western hemisphere before now. On the other hand, EID, the Department of Homeland Security’s Enforcement Integrated Database, would have any information about a terrorist threat associated with the ship. The fact there were no alerts was not conclusive. Miho Dujam wasn’t likely to be loaded to the gunwales with suicide bombers, but there could still be a threat. He glanced again at the TACSIT readout and shook his head in wonder as the speed ticked up from seventeen to eighteen. My God! Does he really think he can outrun a patrol boat?
It took another fifteen minutes for Kauai to draw even with the freighter just as it drew abeam of the northern tip of Grand Turk, eight miles in the distance. Hopkins slowed Kauai to keep pace—nineteen knots—and gave minor course corrections to Pickins to maintain their position one-half mile abeam of the freighter. Ben could see no one on deck, just some shadowy figures on the Bridge.
“Incoming message from JIATF South, sir,” Zuccaro said. “Negative on Miho Dujam from DoD, but Interpol has a TCO alert on them.” TCO was the acronym for Transnational Criminal Organization, supranational organized crime groups that had become a plague in Europe after the collapse of communism. “Known association with the 252 Syndicate.”
Ben whirled to look at Sam, who shook his head and said, “Damn. Not them again!”
Haley asked, “You have dealt with them before?”
Ben replied grimly, “Yes, ma’am. They’re old friends who are always good for a few medals when you run into them. The kind of medals you earn by getting your head shot off.”
Sam said, “Zuccaro, tell JIATF South we are keeping station with the subject at one-half mile and request instructions.”
“Aye, aye, sir,” the young petty officer replied and turned back to her panel.
“What do you think they’re doing down here, XO?” Sam asked.
“Arms trafficking would be my bet, sir. It would not be drugs coming from Europe, although they might try carrying a load back. I’m not sure why they still have the pedal to the metal, though. They must know they can’t outrun us.”
“No, it makes sense. They know we won’t stop and board without flag state clearance, and they probably have enough graft or intimidation in Croatia to tie that up until after they make port if they beat feet. After that, they’ll be a ship in a bottle, but I imagine the profit from the guns would make it worth the trip. Any load of drugs or whatever on the return would be gravy.”
“Sir, reply from JIATF South,” Zuccaro said. “Maintain close contact only until further notice. Initiating flag state consultation now.”
“Q.E.D.,” Ben said with a frown.
“Suits me fine, XO,” Sam said. “Let one of the big hulls handle a forced-entry boarding on these guys. Let’s stand down from Condition One, but we’ll keep an augmented FC3 watch to maintain contact. We may have to massage the OOD rotation—work it out with Chief Hopkins after she’s relieved of the OOD.”
“Will do, sir.” Ben stepped over to the 1MC and announced, “Now, stand down from General Quarters, set the at-sea watch, afternoon watch on deck.” Ben met with Hopkins after Lee relieved her of the OOD watch, and they worked out an augmented watch schedule. As it happened, the effort was academic.
A little over an hour later, Sam, Ben, and Haley were crowded in Sam’s cabin discussing the morning’s events when the phone above Sam’s desk buzzed, and he answered it, “Captain. Yes, I’m on the way!” As they stood, Sam said, “There’s been an explosion on the contact, and it’s coming to a stop.” Sam jogged to the bridge ladder with Ben and Haley close behind and strode through the door with the usual announcement. He stepped over to Lee, who was holding binoculars. Ben looked across at the contact and saw it was trailing oily black smoke from its smokestack, creating a large black cloud settling toward the water.
“I’m sorry, Captain,” Lee said sheepishly. “It looks like their engine blew. I heard a big bang and saw the black cloud and thought it was a bomb or something.”
“No, Lee, you did absolutely right,” Sam said quickly, grabbing the binoculars. After gazing at the other vessel for half a minute, he offered the binoculars to Ben. “What do you think, XO?”
“It looks like the Miho Dujam just became a search and rescue case, sir,” Ben replied with mock concern as he examined the other vessel. “I’ll bet they’re on the satellite phone dialing someone in the Balkans right now asking for instructions.” He checked the TACSIT display—they were roughly in the center of the Turks Island Passage, about eight miles due west of Cockburn Town. “Shall we offer our help, sir?”
“Let them call us. When we go on board, I want it clean to avoid losing any evidence in exclusion. Lee, I want you to do an easy right three-sixty and bring us to about three hundred yards off their starboard beam. Can you handle that?”
“Yes, sir!”
“Good. Make it so. XO, set the Rescue and Assistance Bill. I want you to lead a boarding party with Drake, Bondurant, and Lopez if we can get them to give up without a fight. Have Drake look things over. I doubt he can do anything for the engine, but he can assess her fitness for a tow.” As Ben stepped over to make the announcement, Sam turned to Zuccaro and said, “Update JIATF South on what’s happening. Be sure to include that the Miho Dujam has suffered an explosion and appears to be disabled. Explicitly request direction at the end of the message.”
“Aye, aye, sir,” Zuccaro replied.
As Lee gave the orders to the helmsman for the slow turn to the right, Sam climbed into the command chair, and Haley asked, “Is this the usual tactic?”
Sam smiled and said, “Usual? Like most things we seem to get involved with lately, we’re making it up as we go along.”
Zuccaro turned and said, “Incoming message from JIATF South, sir. Stand by vessel until further notice. Do not initiate boarding unless subject requests assistance.”
“Now there’s a big surprise. Thank you, Zuccaro.”
Kauai took ten minutes to complete her circuit and stop alongside the Miho Dujam. Ben put on his boarding officer gear in his stateroom and made his way to the boat deck where the other three boarding party members waited. Lee trotted over a minute later in her boat crew gear—she would be coxswain for the boarding if there was one.
“Greetings, shipmates,” Ben said with a mock stern expression. “I suppose you are all wondering why I called you together here in the sunshine of this lovely Turks and Caicos afternoon.” After the chuckles subsided, he continued. “Well, I’ll tell you. We are standing by to go onboard that disabled ship over there and help if they invite us. If they don’t, we might do it anyway if we are sure they won’t try to gun us down. This one looks dirty, and we have solid intel that the 252s might be involved, so the threat level is high.”
“You don’t think I’m going to be able to fix their engines, do you, sir?” Drake asked with one eyebrow raised.
“What, you don’t ‘know a guy’ for that, COB?” Ben quipped. After more laughs, he continued. “No, I don’t expect miracles, but we need to know if she’s getting ready to go down from damage or might not take the tow. We’ll need more of your damage controlman skill set than the machinery tech.”
Drake was about to reply when a call came over Ben’s headset, and he raised his hand. “LE-One, Kauai, Miho Dujam crew is abandoning ship via their RHIB, still no contact. Launch RHIB and board Miho Dujam ASAP.”
Ben keyed his microphone and said, “Kauai, LE-One, roger, out.” He then looked at the team. “OK, we are a go. The crew is abandoning ship. Let’s get over there and take a look.” They stood by as Jenkins craned the RHIB off its cradle and brought it even with the deck. “OK, let’s go,” Ben said.
Lee jumped on first and took her seat in the coxswain’s chair. Once situated, she said, “Come on board!”
Ben stepped aboard, followed by Drake, Bondurant, and Lopez. Lee gave Jenkins a thumbs up, and he craned the RHIB off the side and then lowered it into the water. After starting the engine, Lee said, “Let go the fall!” After Bondurant released the crane hook block and guided it off the side, Lee said, “Release sea painter!”..Lopez took the line binding the RHIB to Kauai off the cleat on the bow and cast it over the side. Lee revved the engine, swung the RHIB toward the Miho Dujam, and then turned it alongside the ship’s rusty, light-blue-painted hull.
The ship did not have a high freeboard, but the upper edge of the deck coaming was still at least ten feet above the water. Ben took out the grapnel and climbing rope and tossed the hook over the rail. After pulling it into place and checking it, he pulled himself up the rope, walking on the hull with his feet. After pulling himself over the coaming and scanning the deck, he gave the rest of his crew a thumbs up, then stepped over to the other side and watched as the ship’s RHIB sped away with ten men on board. By the time Ben returned to the rope, Bondurant and Lopez were on board, giving Drake a hand over the side. He keyed his microphone and said, “Kauai, LE-One, boarding party on board and proceeding with the survey. Observed crew motoring off to the east.”
“Copy LE-One, proceed. We are eyes on and in pursuit of the crew,” Williams’s voice replied.
Ben leaned over the rail and said, “Stay close, Shelley. We might want to get off this tub fast!”
“You’ve got it, sir!” Lee replied.
Ben turned to his crew. “Alright, let’s head down below decks. COB, you take Lope and check out the engine space, and Boats and I will move forward in the hold. Stay paired up, please. I don’t want anyone knocked out where we can’t find them.”
“Roger that, XO. Come on, son,” Drake said to Lopez and then turned and walked toward a hatch under the pilothouse. Ben led the way through another door at the forward edge of the superstructure and then pulled off his sunglasses when they plunged into darkness. With the engine gone, there was no electrical power and no lights, so Ben and Bondurant pulled their large flashlights and started down a ladder to the cargo space. At the bottom, they turned and started moving forward in the hold.
With the hatch covers sealed, the hold was pitch dark, and Ben and Bondurant carefully stepped forward around stacks of boxes, many of which were annotated with Cyrillic lettering. He took out his waterproof camera, began snapping pictures every few feet, and whispered, “I don’t suppose you can translate Russian, Boats?”
“You must be kidding, sir.”
“It was worth a shot.” Ben was mildly claustrophobic and joking to knock back the growing anxiety as they proceeded further into the dark cargo space and away from the door. Ben knew he couldn’t last long in here between the fear of the enclosed space and the reeking atmosphere of diesel fuel, smoke, and stale vomit. If they were going to do a tow, he would first get those hatch covers open to let in the light and air things out. Then Ben heard a noise as he rounded another corner of a stack of boxes and froze.
It was the sound of running water.
“You hear that?” Ben asked in a normal tone.
“Yes, sir. I think we should get the hell out of here, XO.”
“Concur. You lead the way,” Ben agreed, and they turned around to make their way back. Suddenly, Ben’s team radio squawked.
“Lead, this is COB. I’m encountering flooding in the engine space. Believe the crew has started scuttling!”
“Get topside, now. We are on the way.
“Understood.”
They started walking again, and then Ben froze at another sound. It sounded like human voices and knocking. “Hello?” Ben shouted and heard muffled cries in response. “Keep shouting; we’ll find you!” He knew it was unlikely the person crying out could speak English, but they’d get the drift. He keyed the team radio again. “COB, you and Lope join us in the hold. We can hear someone trapped.”
“On the way, sir, “ Drake responded.
The muffled cries were regularly coming now as Ben and Bondurant made their way through the obstructions in the hold. Ben could feel the ship listing to port. If they could hear the water running, the list would increase quickly. Beyond a certain angle, the cargo would shift toward the downward side and capsize the ship. They had to move fast!
They arrived at what appeared to be a temporary room built of wood with a padlocked door. Ben smashed off the hasp and lock with his heavy flashlight, yanked the door open, and shined his light into the dark interior. At least a dozen women were crying and cowering in terror on the other side of the space. Briefly shocked, Ben recovered and said, “Does anyone speak English?” No response. Dammit, we don’t have time for this! He tried his only other option, his high school German. “Spreckt jemand Deutsch?” [Does anyone speak German?]
“Ja, Ich sprecke!” [Yes, I speak!] said a woman on the other side of the room.
“Ich bin Leutnant Wyporek von der amerikanischen...Seepolitzei.” Ben stumbled on the correct German expression for “Coast Guard,” and opted for “Sea Police,” instead. “Ihr schiffe versinkt schnell. Meine schiffe kommt. Sagen sie es ihnen sie müssen jetzt nach oben gehen!” [Your ship is sinking quickly. My ship is coming. Tell them they must go topside now!]
“Ja, Ich sage.” [Yes, I tell.] Rusty as he was, Ben could tell she wasn’t a native speaker, but he was not in a position to complain.
“Wie viele sind sie?” [How many of you are there?]
“Zweiundzwanzig.” [Twenty-two.]
Twenty-two! They can’t all be in here! Ben shined his light around and found another locked door. “Boats, get that door open! Don’t go in until we get this translator over there. We can’t be chasing them all over the place!”
“Aye, aye, sir!” As Bondurant turned to comply, Drake and Lopez arrived.
“Holy shit, XO! What are they doing here?” Lopez exclaimed.
“Jesus, what do you think, Lope? As soon as the lady gets done talking, lead them topside. COB, recall Kauai as soon as you are clear of hull interference—there’s no way we can save all twenty-two with just the RHIB.”
“On it, sir!”
The woman had spoken her piece, and the other women were still huddling together and whimpering, but they stood and walked toward Drake and Lopez, except for one who remained motionless on the deck. Ben stepped over and saw she was alive, but her eyes stared upward at nothing. Ben turned to his interpreter. “Sag es ihr noch einmal. Wir müssen gehen!” [Tell her again. We must go!]
His translator shook her head. “Sie hörte. Sie ist sehr traurig.” [She heard alright. She is very sad.]
Ben made a mental note, then said, “Fräulein, komm mit mir.” [Come with me, Miss.] The woman followed him to the other door and into the room as Bondurant stood aside. “Bitte, sagen Sie ihnen dasselbe.” [Tell them the same, please.]
“Ich, sage.” [I tell.]
The situation was getting critical. There was now a perceptible tilt to the deck, and the ship could turn turtle any moment. When the translator had finished, all the women in the second compartment stood and filed out the door.
Ben said, “John, come with me.”
“Yes, sir,” Bondurant said as he followed Ben into the first room.
Ben could understand checking out after the horrors these women must have been through, but there was no time for therapy. “John, we have to carry this one. Can you give me a hand?”
Bondurant stepped over and said, “I’ve got her, XO. You go ahead.”
“Thanks, Boats, I’ll light your way.”
The big boatswain’s mate picked up and cradled the woman like a child, and followed Ben and his translator to the ladder and up onto the main deck. Ben blinked on emerging from the hatch and quickly donned his sunglasses. The hatch covers were covered with sitting, huddling, and crying women and girls, all looking down or shielding their eyes from the bright sun. Ben scanned aft and saw Kauai inbound about a mile away at full speed, her white bow wave spreading quickly from each side—she would be alongside in less than two minutes. He walked over to the grapnel and rope and called out to Lee. “Shelley, take Lope and stand off. We need you to pick up any leakers.”
“Yes, sir!” Lee said, then moved the boat under the rope.
“Lope, get over here.” After the young petty officer arrived, he said. “Get back on the RHIB and help Lee in case someone goes overboard.”
“Yes, sir,” Lopez said. Then he grabbed the rope, climbed over, and lowered himself into the RHIB. Once he was seated, Lee goosed the engine to clear the side for Kauai’s arrival.
Ben keyed his headset microphone. “Kauai, LE-One.”
“LE-One, Kauai, go ahead.”
“One survivor is catatonic. We’ll need the litter to get her off.”
“Understood, LE-One. Keep everyone clear—we’re coming in hot.” It was Sam’s voice.
“Roger that, sir,” Ben said. He looked around and caught the eye of his translator, who trotted over when he beckoned her.
“Vielen Dank für Ihre Hilfe, Fräulein. Wie heissen Sie?” [Thanks much for your help, Miss. What is your name?]
“Anca Cazacu, Herr Leutnant.” [I am Anca Cazacu, sir.]
“Sehr gut, Anca. Das ist wichtig. Sag ihnen, dass sie zurückbleiben und darauf warten sollen, dass meine Männer ihnen an Bord helfen. Sie müssen sich aus dem Weg gehen und dürfen nicht versuchen, sich selbst zu hinübergehen. Verstehen Sie mich?” [Very good, Anca. Now, this is important. Tell them to stay back and wait for my men to help them aboard. They must stay out of the way and not try to cross over themselves. Understand?]
“Klar, Herr Leutnant,” [I understand, sir,] the woman replied, then turned and trotted back to give instructions to the other women.
Ben keyed his microphone again. “Kauai, LE-One.”
“Go ahead, LE-One.”
“I’m down to three onboard, including me. Recommend we bring lines two and three straight over to the cargo deck.”
“LE-One, roger that. I have everyone not on watch headed to the foredeck now. What’s your status?”
“She’s going fast, sir. We’re already listing about ten degrees to port. The cargo is not loose, but it is in high stacks in the hold. If the bindings pop, she’ll capsize in a heartbeat. Even if they don’t, the water’s coming up fast on the port side, and it will be all over when it tops the main hatches. I have the RHIB standing by if we have to jump for it, but the survivors have had it if they go in the water.”
“Copy, LE-One. Have your guys stand by the hawseholes you want to use, so we have a reference.”
“WILCO, sir.”
Ben looked down the deck and could see Bondurant moving toward the aft hawsehole, the reinforced hole in the side they needed to pass Kauai’s mooring line through to tie the ships together. He had overheard the conversation and was moving to where he was required. Ben stepped over to Drake. “Try to keep them together, COB. John and I will handle the lines.”
Drake smiled. “Roger that, sir. After all this time, my dream finally comes true—a SAR case with dozens of pretty young women.”
“Yes, damn shame you’re old enough to be their grandpa now.”
“Watch it, XO,” Drake smiled.
Ben turned and strode to his hawsehole, the smile fading quickly from his face.
Even if everything went right, it was going to be close.
