They held a death watch in Arlington, Virginia.
None of the SSI officers wanted to leave without knowing which of their associates had been killed. It was nearly midnight when the next e-mail was received. “It’s from Vic Pope,” Leopole explained. “He must’ve bypassed Cohen.”
“Well?” Sandy Carmichael’s tone was unusual: curt, insistent.
“Don Pace is dead. They found his body.”
“So that’s Chadburn and Pace killed. What about Verdugo?”
“Apparently he’s going to recover but he’s out of action.” Leopold dropped the printout on the table before Carmichael. The gesture said,
Omar Mohammed understood the tension but wanted to defuse a potential eruption. While he admired Sandra Carmichael more than most women he had ever known, she had an Alabama country girl’s feistiness. “We should let Matt Finch know. Personnel is his responsibility.”
Nobody in the room knew any of the casualties well, but everyone felt a sense of responsibility. Finally Carmichael said, “I think it’ll keep ‘til morning.” She looked up at Leopole, who nodded agreement.
Marshall Wilmont fidgeted in his seat. He felt somehow out of place among operators and planners, even though everyone else in the room rated below him on the organizational chart. “You know, Sandy, the admiral usually contacts next of kin himself.”
“Yeah, I know.” She turned toward to door, as if expecting Derringer to appear. “I wonder if he’s woken the SecDef yet.”
“Look at this,” Zikri said.
Hurtubise looked over the Libyan’s shoulder. “What is it?”
The navigation radar gave a God’s eye view of the area south of the Canary Islands, operating on the ten- mile scale. Zikri fingered a blip astern of
“You think it’s our Jewish friends?”
Zikri gave a grunt.
“Well, what can they do? Ram us?”
“I think they would have done so by now. But then what? As you say, they are probably not going to try their rubber boats again. So we watch them. And wait.”
“I have one-third my men on guard all the time. Until the Jews try something else, there is little for us to do. Now I am going back to sleep. But call me if there’s any change.”
Hurtubise descended the ladder from the bridge and went aft. He wanted to talk before he slept.
“Rene,” he called to his deputy.
Pinsard was sunning himself with his feet up. Officially he was supervising the lookouts. “Yes?”
Hurtubise knelt by the reclining Frenchman. “The explosives you brought aboard — where is it stored?”
“Semtex in the aft storage locker. Caps and detonators in my compartment. Why?”
“I may want to place some quantities in the engine room and elsewhere down below. See me when you come off duty.”
Pinsard cocked an eye at the older man. “Marcel, are you thinking of scuttling this rust bucket?”
“I am just thinking, Rene. But keep it to yourself.”
83
Pope sat down next to Maas and said, “I want to see how this ship compares to theirs.”
“Well, that’s not difficult. I can tell you right away that we are bigger and faster. Let me see…” Maas turned to his computer console and accessed a commercial shipping Web site.
“Yes.”
Maas put on his glasses and his fingers flicked across the keyboard, then he hit Enter. The data and a photo appeared on the screen. “Yes, Greek construction, thirty-four hundred gross registered tons, twelve to thirteen knots. We are nearly three times her tonnage and four to five knots faster.”
He raised his spectacles. “What do you have in mind?”
“Assuming she maintains ten knots, how long would it take to overtake her?”
“Oh… several hours. But if she sees us — and she will — she could go to full speed and prolong the chase.” He paused. “Although…”
“Yes?”
Maas looked at the screen again. “She’s rated at 12.5 knots but that’s probably absolute top speed. I doubt that she can hold it indefinitely whereas we can make fifteen all day long. Seventeen maximum.”
The captain looked at Pope again, scanning for a hint on the SEAL’s impassive face. “To repeat, Commander. What do you have in mind?”
Pope ignored the question. “Let’s assume her mast is fifty feet above the waterline. How far is the radar horizon to us?”
Maas applied his dexterous fingers to the keyboard again. In seconds he said, “Fifteen to seventeen miles, depending on her height versus ours. That’s mast height — superstructure is less, of course.”
“All right,” Pope replied. “Let’s say she sees us hull down and identifies us. She goes to full speed at fifteen miles. With our overtake, that’s about four hours to catch up.”
“Correct. Commander…”
“Captain, could you match your speed to hers and hold position if she was maneuvering?”
“Hold how close? One hundred meters or so, probably no problem. I have an excellent helm.”
“I’m thinking more like five meters or less.”
Maas stood up and faced the SSI man. “Mr. Pope, what in the hell are you thinking of doing?”
Marcel Hurtubise and Rene Pinsard huddled in the latter’s berthing area. He pulled a box of detonators from beneath the bunk and slid them across the deck. “There you go. These are time delay. The others are command detonation.”
“These will do.”
“Marcel, you didn’t say what you plan to do. If we’re boarded, are you going to…”
“If we’re boarded, we’ve probably lost,” Hurtubise interrupted. “We cannot hold this ship against a determined assault if they get enough men on deck.”
“No, but how would they do that? We already showed them they can’t surprise us.”
“Just the same, I’m planning for contingencies. I will rig some surprises for our uninvited guests. Enough to buy us some time to take action — or get away.”
Pinsard wanted to ask for details, but a few years of working with Marcel Hurtubise had proven useful in delineating certain barriers. Professional matters: almost unlimited. Personal matters: proceed at one’s own risk. The present subject seemed to tread the hazy boundary between the two. “How would we get away?”
Hurtubise gave a wry grin. “The enemy may provide that for us,
“Not if that’s the only way out.”
Hurtubise slapped his partner on one knee. “There’s always a way out, Rene. If you do enough thinking beforehand.” He winked at the younger man, then added, “Just don’t say anything to the captain. Or anyone else.”
On the way out, humming loudly enough to be heard, Hurtubise exuded an air of mysterious confidence. It would be distressing to sacrifice a good lad like Rene, but if things turned sour, it would not be the first time that
