Battlecraft (2006)

Mike saw an opening. 'As a matter of fact, I made good grades quite a lot when I was in school. But somehow, I just couldn't get along. It's hard to explain.'

'I understand perfectly, my friend,' the sheikh said. 'I tell you what I would like to do, Mikael. I want you to become an advisor of sorts to me. I need a sharp fellow who is completely familiar with Americans and the ways they talk, think, and act. Do you think you could help me out?'

'Jesus! I'd be real happy to.'

The sheikh chuckled. 'You said 'Jesus!' Are you aware he is in the Koran? He is called Isa, and was not a messiah. He was a prophet according to Islam, and not the Son of God. Nor was he crucified and resurrected in Muslim beliefs.'

'I have some vague knowledge of that,' Mike responded.

The sheikh looked at his watch. 'We shall be getting under way within a half hour. We are going to a place I use as a stronghold. It's a fortified port on the borders of Oman and Yemen. I call the place Mikhbayi. That name is Arabic for Hiding Place. We will figure out your job description when we get there. That's another American expression, is it not? Job description?'

'Yes, Sheikh Omar.'

'I am going to move you into a cabin on this deck level. You will not have to share it with anybody else '

'That'd be nice,' Mike said.

'And we shall get you some decent clothing and proper grooming at Mikhbayi,' the sheikh added. 'How does that sound?'

'Fantastic!'

Sheikh Omar pressed a button located in the arm of the sofa. An instant later, Alif stepped into the room. The sheikh spoke to him, then nodded to Mike. 'Alif will take you to your new quarters. Make yourself comfortable and feel free to come out on the stem deck anytime you wish.'

Mike recognized the dismissal, and he stood up. 'Thank you, Sheikh Omar. Fm really happy you gave me this chance.' He finished the beer and set the empty bottle on the bar. 'Good evening.'

'Good evening, Mikael. I shall see you tomorrow.'

Mike followed Alif out the door.

.

2100 HOURS LOCAL

MIKE couldn't believe his good luck. He glanced around his new cabin with its own private head, a large bed, a wardrobe, a table suitable for intimate dining, a desk, and a settee and a couple of easy chairs. Twenty minutes after he arrived, two stewards showed up at the door. One had his suitcase from the quarters he had shared with Sabah, and the other carried a large silver bucket containing ice and a dozen bottles of Cristal beer.

Mike unpacked, noting that his attire looked drab and cheap in comparison to the plush surroundings. It would be nice to get some proper modem clothing when they arrived at that hiding place of the sheikh. The right garb would also help in any escape and evasion activities that might loom in the future.

The SEAL opened a bottle of beer, then settled on the settee to relax and think. The real plus side was that it appeared that a great opportunity for him to cut and run had just presented itself. However, over in the minus column of the situation was the time factor. Unless he could get back to American contacts quickly, the information he had to pass on could well be outdated. His thoughts were interrupted by a knock on the door. 'Come in.'

When the door opened, Mike's jaw dropped. A beautiful blond woman, carrying a liquor bottle and wearing a beach towel wrapped around her shapely body, stepped inside. She smiled, speaking English in a heavy German accent. 'Hello. My name is Hildegard. Sheikh Omar sent me to see that bored you did not get tonight.'

Mike Assad was a healthy young robust man with the appetites common to that breed of male humans. He had not seen his girlfriend in California since early September and here it was closing in on November. All his natural hominess surfaced in the first split second of Hildegard's appearance. His mouth was dry and it took him a moment to respond to the surprise. 'Well... now ... uh ... hello ... Hildegard.'

'I brought a bottle of cognac,' she said. 'I do not know what is your favorite drink. But I always thought cognac well serving.'

'Oh, yeah! Cognac is great.'

She walked across the cabin, completely familiar with the interior, having entertained guests there many times. Some glasses were available in a cabinet next to the head, and she got a couple, then turned to give him a wink as she dropped the towel. After allowing him a moment to feast his eyes on her beauty, Hildegard walked over and joined him on the settee. She handed him the cognac to open, holding out the glasses. Mike quickly tended to the chore, pouring them each a generous serving.

Hildegard smiled and raised her libation. 'Here is to a wonderful evening for the both of us.'

'I'll drink to that,' Mike said happily.

.

2330 HOURS LOCAL

MIKE Assad and Hildegard Keppler sat up in the bed leaning back against the padded headboard. Both were satiated from an intense period of sex that had carried the woman beyond her whore's immunity all the way to genuine passion as she experienced a trio of multiple orgasms. The physical release left her susceptible to both alcohol and emotion.

The original bottle of cognac Hildegard had brought with her to the cabin was long gone. More had been sent for, and now another had also been turned into a dead soldier and a third was being shared by the couple. This time they didn't bother with glasses, simply passing the bottle back and forth between them. Although Mike was tipsy, he was still under control. He needed information and here was a good source. 'Have you ever been to Mikhbayi?'

'Sure, darling,' she said. 'Many times have I been there.'

'What's it like?'

'It is like a castle near the water with guards,' she said. 'Inside is a little town. But we women on the yacht to go there are not allowed. We must stay aboard the yacht at the docks.'

Mike had already figured the place boasted a waterfront since the sheikh was sailing the Sayih to the facility. 'Are there lots of boats?'

'Oh, ja' Hildegard said. 'The big freighter and passenger ships cannot come in close, so they are having boats that go out and get people and bring them to the dock.'

Mike's mind was completely sober now. That meant good-sized harbor craft that would not only have to fetch in people, but cargo too. The German woman's mood began to ease down into a depression to the point where she suddenly burst out into tears..

Mike was alarmed. 'What's the matter, Hildy?'

She snuffed and turned her face to his. 'The sheikh--that verdammen sheikh--he killed my best friend Franziska.'

Mike was impressed by the information and wanted to leam more, but it might be dangerous for the woman to speak aloud. He gently put his finger on her lips. 'Shhh, sweetie,' he whispered. He got up and went over to the CD player on the dresser, slipping in a French jazz disk. After going back to the bed, he got in beside her.

'Why are you doing this?' she asked, whispering because he was.

'We mustn't be overheard,' he said, gendy putting his fingers on her lips. 'This place is prob'ly bugged. Microphones.'

'Oh, yes,' she said. 'And cameras too. The rotter likes to look at tapes of his guests having sex.'

'No shit?'

'All we women have watched them with him,' Hildegard whispered. 'So excited he gets.'

'Strange dude,' Mike said. He reached over and turned out the lights. 'Listen to me. Why do you say the sheikh murdered your friend?'

'I know she got on this ship and then she is gone away,' Hildegard said. 'She did not go back to shore. She is dead and thrown into the ocean. No other thing could have happened to her.'

'Can you prove this?'

'AJein--no, I cannot.'

Mike thought a moment. 'Would you like to get revenge on him?'