The channel leading into the U-shaped lagoon had been dredged by the fishing company, and was, theoretically, the same depth as it had been before. But just to be safe Loe ordered his boatswain to lower a boat and lead the Alcona in. “Tell him to keep his eyes peeled for mines,” Vos suggested. “Who knows what the Chinese have been up to.”
The international orange lifeboat had an inboard engine which produced a trail of gray smoke as it motored into the channel, paused to take soundings, then proceeded into the lagoon. The azure water was crystal clear, almost completely calm, and bordered by a thin band of white sand. A tattered flag flew from an aluminum pole that marked the complex of buildings.
The first thing Vos noticed as the Alcona crept forward was the rusty wreck lying half submerged on the north side of the lagoon.
The second thing that caught her eye were the orange mooring buoys which dotted the lagoon, all carefully spaced so that fishing boats could swing freely, regardless of what direction the wind blew from. That was an unexpected bonus because the buoys would allow the Pegs and Armindales to tie up rather than anchor.
Last, but certainly not least, was the concrete quay where company’s reefer ships had docked. Could the Alcona do the same? Yes, of course she could. “Put her alongside the wharf,” Vos ordered, and watched approvingly as Loe took the single screw ship in. A tricky task in such cramped quarters.
The yellow sun was hanging low in the sky by then, and barely visible through the overcast. Vos faced a decision. Should they unload the ship immediately, before assessing the buildings, or push the task off to morning? The Alcona is a sitting duck, Vos reasoned, and a sure sign that something’s going on. If we can turn her loose tonight we should.
Finster didn’t like the navy officer’s decision, since it would require him to negotiate the channel at night, but Vos didn’t give a shit. She gave the necessary orders and it wasn’t long before the ship’s yellow crane was plucking blocks of cargo off the deck and depositing them on the quay.
The first item to go across was a Yale gas-powered forklift, which immediately went to work moving pallets of supplies up a concrete path, and into the steel frame building. Chin’s job was to organize the generators, tools, cordage, ammo, food and other items.
That left Vos free to inspect the rusty train tracks that led away from the water to a free-standing tin roof, where a fishing boat sat on a trolley awaiting repairs. A path led to the barracks beyond which, while in desperate need of a good cleaning, would offer those who were off duty a place to crash rather than sleep on their boats.
The small building ajacent to the flag pole was clearly the office, and would serve Squadron 7 as such. Her radio crackled and Chief Becker spoke. “We have company, ma’am. Enemy drone at eleven o’clock.”
There was still a bit of light to see by. And, as Vos looked up, there it was: a sizeable quadcopter, circling the island as it took pictures, feeding them to who knew where.
Vos had no idea what model of UAV she was looking at. The Chinese had more than a hundred different makes and models. Nor did it matter. What mattered was that the Tor and C-RAM systems hadn’t arrived yet, which left Vos and her tiny command virtually defenseless. Yes, she could call for air support if attacked, but would it arrive in time?
Vos held her right hand up with middle finger raised, and shouted: “Fuck you!”
Some of her people were close enough to hear. They laughed and offered defiant gestures of their own. “Fuck you!” they yelled in unison, as the UAV banked away. The Allies had arrived.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Off the coast of Luzon, the Philippines
Darkness had fallen, and lights twinkled in the distance, as a gentle swell caused the HMAS Rockhampton to heave. Off to port the HMAS Kalbarri was waiting as well. And further out to sea, the HMAS Eucia, and the Perth, were lurking in the gloom.
Ryson knew that military operations rarely went off as planned, and that’s why there was some pad in the schedule. But the fact that the ferry had broken down, and been adrift for thirty minutes, had been cause for worry. Now the ferry was running again, and would arrive shortly.
But what if something else happened? And the team lost even more time? That could force the patrol boats to run for Manado in full daylight. A prospect Ryson didn’t care for at all. But if he cancelled the raid, and the POWs were taken to China, Ryson would never forgive himself. So, the rescue was on. In the meantime, every minute carried the risk that a Philippine patrol boat would happen along, or a Chinese satellite would spot the intruders from space.
Ten long minutes passed before the ET spoke over the intercom. “The Setiawati is five out and headed for the beach.”
Ryson knew the tech was referring to the beach that fronted the village of Bagao. No pier or wharf was available. So the plan was to run the Setiawati up onto the beach, drop the bow ramp, and drive the vehicles off. If they arrived dry, good. If they didn’t, no problem. All of the vics (vehicles) had four-wheel drive, or in the case of the trucks, six-wheel drive.
Once the commandos were ashore, another long wait would begin. I hope it will be boring, Ryson thought. Boring is a good thing.
***
Aboard the ferry Setiawati just off the village of Bagao, the Philippines
A Simba armored personnel carrier was going to lead the way, followed by the trucks,
