Henry stood and wandered toward the fireplace. “Well, I’m not sure I’m ready to get in bed with Nordkreuz. However, I agree with Derek. They might be useful to us in the future.”
Chapter Six
The Den
Fort Belvoir, Virginia
Gunner was the last to arrive for the debriefing at Fort Belvoir. He’d spent a considerable amount of time on the phone with Pop that morning, who’d been feeling down. When Gunner had broken the news about the Gray Fox team’s move to Virginia, Pop had provided his wholehearted endorsement. In reality, Gunner suspected, his father was lonely without them around Dog Island.
Ghost gave him a disapproving look when he entered the Den that morning. Gunner immediately went to his mentor’s side and apologized. He explained his tardiness, and Ghost patted him on the back. Washington expected a lot from their special operators in terms of time commitment. Their lives were no longer their own once they signed on to the world of secretive missions. Not to mention they could die on any given operation, including the one to the bottom of the Puerto Rico Trench.
“Okay, let’s get started,” said Ghost in a raised voice. The muted chatter in the Den came to a stop, and all of the analysts sat a little more upright in their chair. Everyone in the highly classified operations center dedicated to the Gray Fox team played a different role. During the briefings, any of them could be called upon to add to the conversation. “Jackal, let’s start with the other salvage operation the team ran across near the U-boat.”
“Well, sir, without making excuses, our efforts were hindered by the weather and darkness,” began the young FBI agent, who’d joined the Gray Fox team and brought with her exceptional computer skills. “Based upon our analysis, it appears a single vessel remained in the vicinity during the time period necessary to remove the number of canisters Gunner believes might’ve been present. There were several other vessels who traveled through the area. However, they only remained nearby during commonly recognized peak fishing hours for wahoo and tuna. They’re the two most prevalent targets of commercial fishing operations this time of year.”
“Have you been able to identify the ship that remained in the area?” asked Ghost.
“No, sir. The combination of weather and the fact the ship’s flag was missing prevented that. All we could do was make a best guess as to their port of embarkation as being the northern coast of Cuba. Most likely Moa, sir.”
One of the analysts spun in his chair to address the team. “Moa is known for its holdouts loyal to the old Castro regime. The local government and law enforcement officials are corrupt, making them easily susceptible to bribes.”
Jackal nodded and continued. “Plus, we were able to detect activity at the airport in Moa that coincides with the time the other submersible evaded our team’s interaction at the U-boat. If my calculations are correct, the mystery submersible could’ve returned to the salvage ship and the entire operation could’ve arrived at Moa around the same time two unidentified aircraft left Cuba.”
“Were you able to track their flight paths?”
Jackal grimaced. “No, sir. Which is one of the reasons I believe my theory that Moa was the original port of embarkation and where the vessel returned to. The two aircraft, based on satellite imagery, appear to be old Russian/Ukrainian transport aircraft—the Antonov An-74. It took some work, but these small cargo planes have large intake ducts mounted on the fixed wing, which resemble oversized ears from above.”
“Cheburashka,” quipped Bear. “I know this aircraft. There was an old cartoon character in the Soviet Union designed to knock off Mickey Mouse. Cheburashka had oversized brown ears. When you faced the Antonov, the intakes looked like large mouse ears.”
“How did you know this?” asked Cam.
“I know things, too,” replied Bear. “Truthfully, I struck up a conversation with a NATO guy while we had a layover in Turkey years ago. He pointed out the An-74 to me while we were talking.”
Ghost turned back to Jackal. “Why couldn’t you track them?”
“They went to great pains to avoid detection, sir,” she replied. “Both aircraft disconnected their transponders, and their takeoff trajectories over the ocean were very low. Both followed one another toward Puerto Rico before our satellite imagery lost them.”
“Any thoughts on where they might’ve been headed?” asked Gunner.
“Their range limited their options. Africa would’ve been a thousand miles beyond their fuel capabilities. The Caribbean islands from Montserrat to Grenada weren’t likely because of our FAA’s connection to these airports. Venezuela is logical or Guyana. From there, Senegal would be in reach, allowing them to refuel and head to the Middle East or Russia.”
Ghost shook his head in disappointment. “That’s not much to go on, leaving us nothing more than speculation as to who might’ve been behind this.”
Gunner had an idea. “Somebody on the inside must’ve tipped these people off. This research bunch. Woods Hole. What do we know about them?”
One of the female analysts sitting near Jackal responded, “They’re highly respected and hire the best of the best in the world of climate research and the study of oceanography. They’ve been around for nearly a hundred years, relying upon government grants and contracts mostly. In the late forties, however, their research funding got a huge boost, and the operation expanded to over five hundred employees made up of scientists, engineers, ship’s crew, and technical experts.”
“Are they accountable to the government in any way?” asked Cam.
“Yes, ma’am,” the young analyst replied, causing Cam to scowl. She did not consider herself a ma’am. “Woods Hole is divided into six research departments and more than forty laboratories. The research departments are separate and distinct from one another. Those that receive U.S. government grants and contracts are required to comply with the FFATA.” The FFATA was an acronym for the Federal Funding Accountability and Transparency Act, which required
