Battlecraft (2006)

hard-packed desert earth.

The sheikh glanced over at Mike, smiling. 'What do you think of the garrison mujahideen, Mikael?'

'They look really sharp,' he replied, remembering that he was not supposed to have any military experience other than the time he'd spent in al-Mimkhalif.

'British officers and soldiers of fortune moved into the Middle East after World War One,' Jambarah said. 'The type of drill we employ here--or 'bashing on the square'-- is typical of the United Kingdom's armed forces. I received military training in Britain as a boy cadet in school.'

'This is a smart-looking place,' Mike said. As he watched the marching men, he thought they would have served their cause better up in the mountains under Kumandan's command.

'You are not aware of it,' Jambarah said, 'but you are in the supreme headquarters of al-Mimkhalif.'

Mike forgot about the music and the marching as he saw the chance to pick up some excellent intelligence data without arousing suspicion. Any inquiries on his part now would seem no more than natural curiosity. 'Does our great leader Husan stay here? I would like to meet him.'

'You already have, Mikael,' Jambarah said. 'I am Husan. It is my nom de guerre. That is French for 'war name.''

Mike was surprised in a way, but not completely. But he played the naive-kid role and stared openmouthed at the sheikh. 'Wow!'

'My family is tied in closely with the Saudi government,' Jambarah said. 'I will not discuss that with you now, but you will learn more about it later. You may be sure you are destined to hobnob with some very important people on the Arabian Peninsula.'

Mike's mind swirled. I gotta get the fuck out of here and back to American intelligence, he told himself. He shook his head, showing an expression of wonder and surprise. 'This is really big, Sheikh Omar!'

'Indeed,' Jambarah said. 'And you will be able to play an important part in our counterattack. This defeat suffered by that rascal Mahamat has not stopped us, though I admit we are slowed a bit.' He chuckled. 'And the final phase of that unhappy event is about to be played out. Look!' He pointed to a door in the wall across the way.

Commodore Muhammad Mahamat stepped into view from the portal. He was dressed in a simple cotton tawilqamis--the long nightshirt style of peasant dress--and his hands were tied behind his back. He was flanked by two guards and followed by a third man who carried a large sword as the group walked to a place in the middle of the parade ground.

Even from that distance Mike could see that the commodore was in a deep daze. 'What's going on?'

'Mahamat is about to pay for both his defeat and lying about it,' Jambarah said. 'I'm sure you've never seen anything like this.'

Mahamat was brought to a halt, then his guards stepped away. He swayed slightly as the man with the sword walked up beside him. Mike peered carefully at the prisoner who once commanded the all-powerful Zauba Squadron. 'What's wrong with him? Is he sick or drunk?'

'I have been merciful and seen that he was administered a strong dose of afyun,' Jambarah said. 'He is barely aware of what is going on.'

Mike had seen men killed before and had taken others' lives in battle, but what was about to happen to the drugged-up commodore had an eerie quality about it. The man with the sword raised the edged weapon and looked up at the reviewing stand. Sheikh Omar Jambarah nodded his head.

The sword whistled for no more than an instant before slicing through the commodore's neck. The head rolled backward, falling toward the ground as the body took a jerky step forward before collapsing.

'AUahu Akbarthis ' Jambarah said under his breath. 'If he does not deserve to die for his defeat, it matters not. Allah will forgive him and take him into Paradise.'

Damn, Mike thought, wouldn't just busting the poor bastard down in rank have been enough?

.

USS DAN DALY

INDIAN OCEAN

VICINITY OF 5deg NORTH AND 65deg EAST

NOON LOCAL

PETTY Officers Paul Watkins and Bobby Lee Atwill had mixed feelings about Lieutenant Veronica Rivers's initiation as an honorary member of Brannigan's Brigands. Now, heading up to the wardroom for a briefing on an upcoming mission, Watkins expressed his resentment of the honor. 'We was in that sea battle. They ought to recognize us too.'

'You're forgetting one thing, Paul,' Bobby Lee said. 'You and me don't have to be honorary SEALs. If we want it bad enough, we can volunteer for the training and become the genuine article.'

'Are you crazy?' Paul exclaimed. 'Haven't you heard of that Hell Week they go through?'

'Yep,' Bobby Lee said. 'And that's why I'm sticking to mending and maintaining turbine engines. Anyhow, I don't think I got what it takes to make it.'

'Shit,' Paul said resignedly. 'I guess I don't either.'

.

THEY walked into the wardroom, nodding greetings to the SEALs as they went to their customary places in the back of the room. None of the officers were present at the moment, and everyone was drinking coffee and talking among themselves. Suddenly Senior Chief Buford Dawkins called the room to attention, and everyone leaped to their feet.

Commander Tom Carey led the way as he, Brannigan, Jim Cruiser, and Veronica Rivers came in through the door. The three Battlecraft officers sat down in the first row while Carey went to the head of the room. Rather than having a manila folder with an OPORD, all he had were some notes.

'Good morning, people,' he said. 'Another operation is laid on for you, but a final date and time hasn't been established yet. I figure it'll go down in two or three days. The mission follows the KISS principle; that is, Keep It Simple, Sweetheart. It's no more than cruising around to look for trouble, and doesn't require a lot of finesse or fancy preparation. On the day of the event, you'll leave the docking well at oh-dark-hundred.'

Veronica raised her hand. 'What ordnance are we packing, sir?'

'Antiship and antiaircraft missiles,' Carey replied. 'By the way, congratulations on becoming an honorary Brigand.'

'Thank you, sir,' Veronica said, now more interested in the mission than the honor bestowed on her. 'I suggest our AA weaponry be both heat-seeking and laser.'

'I'll leave that to Lieutenant Brannigan,' Carey said. 'The only antiship stuff we have for you are Penguins, but they're reliable and worked well in this last outing.'

Jim Cruiser asked, 'Will there be anything for the assault sections to do?'

'We don't know,' Carey replied. 'And because of that, both should be ready to participate. It'll be crowded on the ACV, but you're used to that now.' He turned back to Veronica. 'You'll set a course up to be somewhere along six degrees north latitude and begin a sweep back and forth along that azimuth. It's been reported that there's a good chance that al-Mimkhalif sea operations are on hold because of the decisive defeat you all dealt them on the twenty-second. A rumor has surfaced that al-Mimkhalif has a seaside facility somewhere, and that can mean more warships. Although that's not been confirmed yet, I advise you to expect the worst.'

Brannigan was confused. 'Why are we taking both assault sections, sir? If we do any boarding of terrorist vessels, one will do. On the other hand, if we become involved in another fight at sea, those guys will be in the way, not to mention exposed to deadly fire.'

'There is a chance that the need for a raid may pop up,' Carey said. 'Since you've got forty-eight hours minimum before going out, we can't be sure of anything. I want to emphasize that the situation is in a real fluid mode at this moment, so be ready for anything. As you were! I should have said, be ready for everything. As it is, you'll be out the maximum seventy-two hours. Gas, ammo, and vittles will be on loaded accordingly by the Daly's crew.' He folded up his notes and stuck them in his pocket. 'That's it, folks. Consider yourselves on standby. I'll be calling you together a couple of more times before this thing goes down.'