Battlecraft (2006)

spoke over the intercom to Watkins, her voice was low and calm.

'Back at flank speed!'

'Back at flank speed, aye, ma'am.' 'Full right rudder, forward at flank speed.' 'Full right rudder, forward at flank speed, aye, ma'am.' The Battlecraft spun around and sped off across the Indian Ocean quickly working her speed up to a very respectable ninety-four miles an hour.

Chapter 20.

CUTIS FARM, VIRGINIA

17 NOVEMBER

1400 HOURS LOCAL

THE facility was not a working farm. It was a three-hundred-acre government property that was far off the beaten track, surrounded by deep sections of forest and bog, and kept under rigid security. A two-lane dirt road that wound ten miles off the main county route was the only way to reach it overland. To discourage wandering tourists who might blunder onto the property, the two creeks on the acreage were not bridged. In order to cross them, it was necessary to enter up to two feet of water through what had been called 'fords' back in the good old days of horse and buggies. However, a helicopter pad and a short airstrip capable of accommodating small aircraft were available in the center of the bucolic estate.

The farm's main building was a one-story, split-level rambling ranch house that looked as if belonged more in California than in the hinterlands of a Southern state. When Undersecretary of State Carl Joplin, Ph. D., had been assigned an office in the place, he was both mortified and elated. He felt bad because the change obviously meant he was as high up in the State Department as he was going to ascend in his diplomatic career. However, he was also happily excited because, this isolation was a strong indication that his duties would be channeled into the special clandestine situations he had mastered during his twenty years of public service. This was a career path he found challenging and stimulating.

At the moment, the African-American international relations specialist was taking a slow stroll out toward a wooded area in the company of the Saudi Arabian envoy Jaabit Hasidi. The extremely obese Arab gentleman was obviously not in the mood to go for a walk or take part in any other form of physical exertion. Getting him out of the building to do some unaccustomed exercise was more of the psychological pressure that Dr. Joplin was applying to the man. He did not want Hasidi to be comfortable and complacent; rather he desired him to be ill at ease both physically and emotionally. This would add to the distinct advantage the American diplomat had over him in the state of affairs they were currently discussing.

Joplin's facial expression was grim, close to angry, as he spoke in a firm voice. 'We have learned much from Sheikh Omar Jambarah in these past two weeks. And I must emphasize that most of the information he has supplied is very embarrassing to the Kingdom of Saudi Arabia. The governments of both Yemen and Oman are even now taking over a facility he had erected without permission on their sovereign territories. A project, by the way, financed through certain Saudi channels. And I don't know if the two countries are willing to return the royal yacht to Saudi Arabia or not.'

Hasidi, with sweat trickling down his wide face, tried to appear self-assured as he lit a cigar. 'Any opinions the sheikh states are his own, and not that of the Saudi government, Dr. Joplin'

'He is not giving us opinions, Mr. Hasidi. He is providing us with intelligence ' Joplin said. 'In other words, the sheikh is passing useful information, names, dates, and other most precise data, to the U. S. A.'

'The Saudi government can make no comments on what the sheikh has told you until we appraise the contents of his discourse.'

'Of course,' Joplin said. 'But allow me to point out to you that it is obvious to the United States government that Saudi Arabia will be very disturbed by what has been revealed.'

'I think this matter must be taken up to a higher level than you or me,' Hasidi said. He nervously puffed on his cigar. 'My government will also take under consideration that he is under duress as a prisoner.'

'All his information has been researched and found to be accurate,' Joplin said. 'And more importantly, all of it is provable. For those reasons, my government prefers to let you and me work out the details.' He let the words sink in for a moment before he spoke again. 'As you Saudis know, the American public is most distrustful of your nation. In spite of the TV spots you have run giving them many reasons to have confidence in your friendship, the U. S. public is not buying it. In short, they do not like your nation. They do not trust your nation. As a matter of fact, Mr. Hasidi, much of the correspondence sent to our senators and representatives from their constituencies indicates that angry Americans are suggesting that Saudi Arabia be turned into a glassed-over parking lot that glows in the dark.'

'Irrational words from zealots,' Hasidi said, dismissing the seriousness of the reactions. 'Such people toss nuclear bombs around as jugglers do balls.'

'It is true that these people express extreme views,' Joplin said. 'But it reflects a serious attitude toward your country. The extent of the participation of Saudis in 9/11 has infuriated even the more cool-headed of our population.'

'Are you going to make war on us?' the Saudi asked with a snort of laughter.

'I don't think so, Mr. Hasidi,' Joplin said. 'At this juncture we wish to make deals. If we keep all this out of the press and take no overt actions, we would expect concessions from the Saudis.'

'What sorts of concessions, Doctor?'

'A sincere and flourishing program of moving against terrorists within your sovereign territory would be the primary one.'

'But we are--'

Joplin cut him off. 'As I stated, Mr. Hasidi. A sincere and flourishing program of moving against terrorists. Not just useless efforts that are no more than eyewash. We want to see obvious and positive results.'

Hasidi said nothing, looking off over the Virginia countryside, now perspiring more as he took nervous drags off the cigar.

'You seem uncomfortable, Mr. Hasidi,' Joplin said in a friendlier tone. 'Would you like to return to the house? We should really discuss the final disposition of Sheikh Omar Jambarah, should we not?'

The Saudi nodded silently, and the two men retraced their steps.

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TAIMUR NAVAL BASE, OMAN

18 N0VEMBER

0530 HOURS LOCAL

THE bugler marched out to the front of the headquarters building and came to a halt. He raised his instrument in a sharp military manner to his lips and blew reveille. He made a right-face and repeated the call, then an about-face to send the blaring notes out in that direction. Afterward, he brought the bugle down, performed a left-face, and marched back toward the edifice, his morning duty done.

The sailors stationed in the barracks streamed out in their clean white uniforms, falling in formation to respond to the roll calls of their chief petty officers. The crews aboard the ships in the harbor were already doing the same; and that included the missile vessel Shams-min-Oman--Sun of Oman. This had once been the flagship of Commodore Muhammad Mahamat, but now had been claimed and renamed by the sultanate's navy. They had no record of the vessel ever being purchased by their government, but since it was in the possession of their armed forces, they made claim to it. So far no objection had been raised from any part of the international community.

The Zauba Squadron, which had once occupied the base, was disbanded. The remaining officers were arrested and charged with treason, but its remaining well-trained sailors were forgiven after placing their hands on the Holy Koran and swearing loyalty to the nation's government. Two young mujahideen named Imran and Ayuub had been discovered living and working in the kitchen of the officers' mess. They were arrested, questioned, and found to be bewildered and frightened. The pair of ex-baker apprentices were then driven to the city of Salalah and dumped out on the streets to fend for themselves.

Meanwhile, antismuggling operations along the Oman coast were brought back to normal--a half-ass program of patrolling the coast in a sporadic, careless manner, replete with bribes and other corruption. .

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