the nod.”
“So well have, what? Eight or maybe ten guys?”
“Yeah, I think so. Frank wanted to load what he’s calling our East Team with most of our SEALs because we won’t have as much time to prepare as Pope’s team. Our job is to get you guys aboard the ship. After that, it’s pretty much interior tactics.”
“Fine,” said Breezy. “But what then? I mean, like, what do we do once we own the boat?”
Malten shrugged. “That’s still up in the air. I guess part of it depends on what Cohen turns up.”
Bosco asked, “So what do you know about Cohen?”
“Just what Frank and Sandy told me. Dual citizenship, apparently a lot of experience with the Israelis, though I don’t know details. He’s worked with SSI before. What’d he tell you?”
“Well, he’s lined up a ship for us to use. He wants a twenty-knot speed and big enough to carry a couple of Zodiacs. He said it needs to be foreign registry, which I guess means anything but Israeli.”
Malten glanced at Pfizer. The younger SEAL said, “That’s not a big deal. Ships change registry now and then, and they can fly a flag of convenience.”
Bosco gave him a blank stare. “Flag of convenience?”
“It’s a tax dodge. Panama is a real small country, but I think it registers more ships than anyplace else. There are even countries without coastlines that register ships because the fees are so low.”
“You mean, like, Nebraska could register ships?”
Pfizer chuckled aloud. “Well, I don’t know about that, but I’ve seen merchant vessels with Mongolian registry.”
“You gotta be shitting me,” Bosco exclaimed.
“No lie, GI.”
The operators heard four sharp raps on the door. Breezy looked through the peephole and said, “It’s Cohen.” He admitted the Israeli-American and introduced the new arrivals.
Alexander Cohen quickly surveyed the team but showed no interest in the individuals’ opinions. Instead, he took charge of the assembly and exercised his home-court advantage. “I know that none of you have been to Israel before, but that doesn’t matter too much. We won’t be here very long because I just have confirmed that our target is docked in Misratah. It will probably sail in the next two days or so.”
“Where the hell’s Misratah?” Bosco asked. He resented Cohen’s attitude and could tell that most of the others shared his impression.
“Oh, that’s in Libya.” His tone seemed to imply
Jeff Malten was not prepared to accept much on faith. “What’s the source of that information?”
Cohen raised his hands, palms up. “I cannot discuss sources, Mr. Malten. I’m sure that you understand the need for security.”
“No, actually, Mr. Cohen, I don’t. Especially when it’s our necks. I think we’re entitled to know something about the information we’re acting on.” He made a point of looking around. “I think we all do.”
“Damn straight,” Breezy said.
Bosco added a Ranger “Hoo-ah.”
Pfizer, sensitive to his status as the new guy, merely returned Cohen’s gaze.
“Another thing as long as we’re discussing priorities,” Malten added. “As far as I know, I’m leading this team. That’s what Colonel Leopole told me when Scott and I left Washington yesterday, and I don’t think anything’s changed since then. If I’m wrong, now’s the time to hear it. From him.”
Cohen’s brown eyes took a gunslinger squint at the former SEAL; a gaze of respectful resentment. At length Cohen said, “That is my information as well, Mr. Malten. But since this is my country and since I am arranging our equipment and shipping, I believe that SSI grants me control over the preparations. Once the operation begins, of course you are in charge.”
Malten’s brain registered the phrase
Alexander Cohen was unaccustomed to having his loyalty questioned by Americans or Israelis. He bit off the response he felt building in his throat and, controlling his voice, replied, “I was born in America of Israeli parents. Considering what that ship is carrying to Iran, I think we both have cause for concern, don’t you?”
Jeffrey Malten nodded, then pressed his point. “So how do you know what ship we’re after?”
Cohen decided on a middle course. “The ship is called
Malten was unwilling to concede the intelligence argument. “Okay, that helps. But how do you know all this?”
Cohen folded his arms. “Mr. Malten, for now I can just say that we are confident of the information. I can ask for permission to share that with you, but it will take some time. And I do not think we have much time.”
“All right, I’ll trust you to do that. Now, what about our own ship and equipment?”
Cohen sat at the writing desk and laid down a notepad. “Our ship is leased for one month, which should be plenty of time if the yellow cake goes via Suez. It’s fully fueled and manned. We have three Zodiacs, weapons, radios, and boarding equipment. Here’s the list. Let me know if you need more.”
Malten looked at Pfizer with raised eyebrows. “Well, that’s a lot of gear in a short time. Mr. Cohen, I don’t…”
The Israeli smiled. “As long as we’re arguing so well, make it Alex.”
“Okay, I’m Jeff.” Malten looked at the list again. “Ah, right now I don’t know if we’ll have enough men for three boats. But it’s good to have a spare.”
Cohen leaned back, hands behind his head. “Nothing’s too good for our American friends.”
67
Mike Derringer was a well-known workaholic: he arrived early each weekday and often spent part of a weekend at the office. Today was no different. He checked the coffeepot, noticed that Peggy Springer already had turned it on, and not for the tenth time admired her efficiency.
He turned on his office computer to check overnight e-mail and found the usual clutter of messages: reminders, jokes, reunion notices, occasional obituaries. SSI’s computer support division had installed a powerful firewall in all the company’s machines, and Derringer— certainly no prude — gladly did without the Internet’s marketing pollution: penis enlargement, enhanced sexual performance, and teenage Asian sluts. Occasionally Karen assured him that, at age sixty-seven, he needed neither of the first two, but she would personally see to organ reduction if he ever dabbled in the third.
He believed her.
Quickly working his way through the list, making frequent use of the Delete button, Derringer saw a message from a sender called “Double Dare.” Derringer opened the message.
Derringer swiveled in his chair, punched the intercom, and buzzed Wilmont’s office. There was no response, nor did the admiral expect one at 0745.
“Leopole here.”
“Frank. I’m glad you’re in. Our bird has flown the coop.”
“Be right there, sir.”
“Ah, have you seen Sandy?”
“Negative. I think she’s still inbound.”
“Very well. Hustle up here and I’ll try her cell phone.”
