From under the banyan tree, Ashad sent his team to their assault stations. One man took cover under a plumeria bush at the rear corner of the house, giving him a clear field of fire down the rear and side. Another set up at the front corner under one of the banyan’s massive aerial roots. His field of fire was down the front and interlocked with his companion down the side. The third moved to the lanai door and quickly picked the simple tumbler lock. No resistance was expected, but weren't all Americans armed? Better safe than sorry.
The door was opened just enough for the four to silently enter the house. Downstairs was empty and quickly secured, the phone lines cut and the breakers for the electrical supply opened. Anyone upstairs was now isolated from the outside world.
They silently padded to the stairs and moved upward. The corner tread, halfway up the stairs was creaky. Hunter had promised to fix it at least a dozen times, but it had never come to the top of the “honey-do” list. The first terrorist stepped on it and it creaked loudly. They instantly froze. Had the sound warned the quarry? Were they armed? Would the next step be met with a hail of bullets?
They waited, frozen in place but poised for instant response, for five minutes. No sound. They proceeded up the stairs much more cautiously.
The hallway was laid out exactly as they were briefed. Doors to the left and right opened onto small bedrooms, the door at the end of the hall opened onto the master bedroom. A terrorist stopped by each door waiting for a signal from the leader.
Simultaneously they jerked open the doors and rushed into the rooms. The occupants were each jerked out of their slumber and hauled to the floor. The two girls were roughly shoved into the master bedroom where the wife was defiantly facing the leader.
“Mommy, what’s happening? Who are these men?” the young redhead asked in a quavering voice.
“”Quiet, dear. Don’t be afraid,” Peg Hunter answered.
“That’s not very good advice,” the Ashad growled, menacingly brandishing the dangerous looking machine pistol. “You should be very afraid. If you don’t do exactly as we say, you won’t live to see the sun rise.”
Unnoticed, the oldest daughter slipped behind her mother. The cell phone that she had earlier used to talk to her best friend was on the bedside table. She pressed the “mute” button and then the “send” one. Don’t let them see her. Please let Sally wake up and understand what is happening.
21 Jun 2000, 0330LT (1430Z)
Over on Ford Island, in Colonel Johnson’s house, the phone rang. At 0330, Colonel Johnson was not amused as he reached across his sleeping wife to pick up the phone. As well as being Sally’s father, the Colonel was also PACOM J-2 Special Intelligence Officer. He was one of only a small handful of people who had an idea of what was currently happening off Nusa Funata.
No one answered his gravelly greeting so he thought that it was another call from a drunken sailor who had dialed the wrong number.
He had just started to replace the receiver when he heard something that made him pause. He thought he heard a threat in an accent that he had not heard since he left Iraq at the end of the Gulf War. Immediately, he was wide-awake, all senses on peak alert.
21 Jun 2000, 0332LT (1432Z)
Ashad ordered the three hostages to sit on the double bed. The calm dark night outside gave a sharp contrast to the awful tension in the master bedroom.
The three underlings took defensive positions; one at the master bedroom window, one at the window in Megan’s room and the last downstairs.
“Now listen very carefully,” he began. “Whether you live or die depends on how well you follow orders. We are soldiers of Allah and Mustaf al Shatar. Life is meaningless to us. We don’t usually make war on women and children, but your husband has forced this on us. He is trying to stop our great revolution. You will stop him. When the sun rises, we will call your Master of Submarines. You will tell him to order your husband to surface and go immediately to Surabaya. If he has not complied within twelve hours, one of you will die. We will kill one of you every six hours until he complies. Do you understand me?”
The three women huddled even closer together and Peg shook her head in acknowledgement. Maggie put her arms around her mother and whispered, “Don’t worry, Mommy, it’ll be alright. I won’t let them hurt us.”
21 Jun 2000, 0340LT (1440Z)
Colonel Johnson picked up his cell phone and dialed a special number. When the duty officer at PACOM answered, he gave the code word for a hostage situation and rapidly explained what he thought was happening. His orders to the duty officer were precise and measured.
Camp Smith, high above Pearl Harbor, erupted in a bustle of controlled activity. The trace on the call to Colonel Johnson proved his supposition that it originated from Peg Hunter’s cell phone. Calls to the house on Hospital Point went unanswered.
A security guard drove by the house on routine patrol. He reported the house was dark and there was no sign of unusual
