him from than an Italian one. After all, the Italians have been practicing on the Mafia for decades.'
Stauer nodded and turned to Phillie. 'Hon,' he said, 'would you call Terry at the lodge and have him come here?'
'But it's so late . . . '
'Trust me, babe, that's not an issue.'
'You're actually going to free Victor Inning from jail?' Wahab asked. As an African, he was more than ordinarily sensitive to the various wars fed by the likes of Inning and his competitors.
'You knew we were going to use him, Wahab,' Stauer said. 'What difference how we get him? I mean, does your chief want his son back or not?'
'Speaking of which,' Ralph interjected, 'I know how the boy left Boston. I think I do, anyway.'
Both Stauer and Wahab were interested in that. 'How?' the African asked. 'And how do you know?'
'I did a query of queries,' Boxer answered. 'About six weeks ago someone at sea, on a ship christened the George Galloway, did a number of searches for kidnappings and disappearances reported in Boston. Can't think of any good reason for someone to do that who wasn't concerned expressly about kidnappings in Boston. The Galloway also left Boston the morning after the boy disappeared. It was next seen in Port Harcourt, Nigeria. After that, the trail goes cold, unless the boy's still aboard.'
'I wonder what the crew could tell us?' Stauer mused.
'I doubt they'd tell us anything,' Boxer answered.
Stauer gave a wicked grin. 'Yes they would. It's only a matter of making sure they understand their real priorities. Can you track down where the ship is and where it's headed now?'
'Piece o' cake,' Boxer answered.
'Phillie,' Stauer called out, 'tell Terry to bring his tame SEAL, too.'
'Use four men to take down one ship with a crew of maybe twenty or twenty-five, when they've got no warning that we're coming?' the SEAL asked. He sneered 'Piece o' cake.'
The SEAL, more exactly the retired SEAL, Richard 'Biggus Dickus' Thornton, had arms the size of Terry Welch's legs. And Terry's legs were not spindly. Even Stauer found the man's sheer bulk and obvious strength almost intimidating.
'But,' Biggus added, 'We'll have to hit it in or near a port, preferably as it's leaving, so I'll need the ship's schedule some time in advance. Also architectural drawings, arms, a way to get there, NVGs'-night vision goggles- 'preferably PVS-21's-'
'I can get you PVS-7s,' Gordo interjected, 'or something just as good. But 21's just aren't to be had on the open market.'
Biggus thought about that before agreeing, and then adding to his shopping list, 'I'll need scuba gear for four, a boat, a padded extending ladder, a . . . '
'Just give me your list,' Gordo said. 'I'll see what I can do.'
Bridges looked decidedly skeptical.
Ralph waved a finger. 'Chief,' he said to the SEAL, 'don't be so sure how easy this will be. Bridges has traced back all of the Galloway's stops and routes for the last couple of years. I think they're not just a carrier for hire. I suspect they're AQ Navy, either owned or leased.'
Al Qaeda Navy, so called, was a collection, some suspected a very large collection, of merchant vessels owned or crewed by that terrorist organization.
'Really,' the SEAL's face was lit with a feral smile. 'In that case, what was professional has just become personal.' He faced Stauer and asked, 'Sir, if I find, after boarding, that they are AQN can I terminate the lot of them?'
Over that Stauer didn't hesitate a moment. He had his own grudges. 'Yes. Or anything else you can imagine.'
'You know,' Gordo said, 'if we're going to off the crew we could save a few million by taking over the Galloway, rather than buying our own.'
'It's tempting,' Stauer conceded. 'But I think it drives up our chances of being compromised. Better just to scuttle it at sea. If, that is, it really is AQN.'
Kosciusko wandered over and said, 'Forget using Galloway; it's not big enough for our purposes.
'Oh, well,' said Gordo. 'How will you know if it is AQN?' he asked of Biggus.
'I find a mosque on the ship,' the SEAL answered, with a shrug, 'that's no big deal in itself. But if I find a crapload of Al Qaeda literature, weapons over and above maybe two rifles and a pistol, anything remotely smelling of explosives or detonators, money much in excess of what a ship normally carries in the safe, a dungeon, complete with chains, code books, how-to make a suicide vest videos, CDs with Daniel Pearl's or Fabrizio Quatrocchi's heads being sawed off . . . '
Gordo held up his hands, palm out. 'I get the picture, Chief.'
'Slave girls being transported are also not uncommon indicators,' Thornton finished.
Bridges, who had been silent for some time, took the opportunity to say, 'Most of what you've asked for, Chief, even if Gordo can get it for you, you can't take it with you.'
'Why the hell not?' Biggus Dickus asked.
'The Euros are often quite sensitive to things with military potential, even if they're not actual weapons. Night vision is one of those things, for example. And firearms are really touchy. Once you have something on a boat or plane it isn't that much of a problem; it's getting it from one to the other.'
'Shit! I've always been used to travelling under orders, with whatever we need on hand. This is . . . different.'
'We'll figure out something for you, Chief,' Stauer said, then turned his attention to Welch. 'Terry, yours is in most ways a tougher mission, even though we know where Victor's being held. How are you going to do it?'
Welch frowned. 'We can get his lawyer to set up a hearing at which Victor will have to be present. That gives us a time certain he'll be outside of the jail and a probable or certain route. The problem will be getting him out of country after that.'
'I don't want any Burmese police killed,' Stauer said.
'Makes it tougher, of course,' Terry said. 'Not impossible, just tougher. It will also make getting him out of the country tougher. I'm going to need an airplane and a pilot, or, better, a helicopter and pilot, both to bring us in and to bring us out again.'
'Mike Cruz isn't due in for another two days,' Stauer said. 'He's going to be our chief wing wiper.'
'Marine chopper pilot with a Ranger Tab?' Welch asked.
'I didn't know you knew him, Terry?'
'I don't, Wes; I just heard about him. He'll do.'
Stauer turned to Welch and Thornton in turn, then asked, 'How many days until you can give me a plan we can go with?'
'Three days,' Welch answered. Thornton weighed that for a minute before nodding agreement. 'Sure, three days.'
D-121, Corpus Christi, Texas
Seagulls whirled and swooped along the shore. A warm breeze came off the Gulf, carrying with it the not entirely unpleasant smell of the sea, which was to say, the smell of the shore. A number of people, a plurality of them neither white nor black, but brown, cavorted by that shore. A smaller number of people, most of them white and all of them older, watched from a cafe on land.
Mike Cruz-and it was 'Mike,' rather than 'Miguel'-had arrived a bit early, the night before. Then he, Stauer, and a small cadre had driven the one hundred and fifty odd miles to this coastal city and port to explain the facts of life, of ships anyway, to the landlubbers, Stauer, Boxer, and Gordo. Cruz pointed across the bay to the USS Lexington and said, 'That's really what you want.'
