Seal Team Seven (29 page)

“Iran has not yet made any public announcement about any of this. She has not admitted to the loss of one of her submarines, nor has she made any statement yet about the capture of the
Hormuz.
One notion we are still investigating is the possibility that the
Yuduki Maru
hijacking was carried out by an as yet unnamed dissident group within the Iranian military.

“One further disturbing development has been detected by our satellites. Five hours ago, well before dawn in the Persian Gulf, a large flotilla left Bandar Abbas, heading south. This flotilla consists of one guided-missile destroyer, the
Damavand
, two frigates,
Alborz
and
Sahand
, and four Combattante II-class patrol boats. Since this represents a considerable fraction of Iran's total naval force, we can only assume that Tehran is taking current events in the Indian Ocean very seriously indeed. What we do not yet know is whether this flotilla has been deployed to support the
Yuduki Maru
, or to combat the dissident forces that have hijacked her. From our perspective, it doesn't really matter which. It is the NSC's consensus that neither Iran nor an Iranian splinter group can be permitted access to
Yuduki Maru
's cargo.

“In any case, the crewmen brought back by the SEALs may be able to shed new light on the situation. At this point in the proceedings, I'd like to turn the podium over to Mr. Hadley, who has some additional intelligence for us. Mr. Hadley?”

The CIA man took Kerrigan's place at the podium. “Thank you, Admiral. I have little to add at this point, except for an interesting development that was telexed back to Langley from intelligence officers aboard the U.S.S.
Nassau
.

“It turns out that one of the Japanese crewmen retrieved by Lieutenant Murdock's people is, in fact, one of the original terrorists who seized the
Yuduki Maru
.”

A stir ran through the listeners in the room. This was new, and unexpected.

“The man Murdock rescued from the freighter's bridge is who he claims to be, Jiro Kurosawa, a merchant marine employee of the company running the
Yuduki Maru
.

“The other man, however, who was intercepted near the freighter's engine room by, um, Chief MacKenzie, has been positively identified by Kurosawa as one of the new merchant seamen who produced concealed weapons last Wednesday and seized the ship.

“While the prisoner has not yet talked, his fingerprints were faxed to Langley, where they were matched with those of Shigeru Ota, a low-ranking member, a soldier really, of the Japanese Ohtori.”

“Ohtori?” Kerrigan asked, interrupting. “What the hell's that?”

“A new and radical offshoot of the old Japanese Red Army. ‘Ohtori' corresponds roughly to the West's ‘phoenix.' ”

“The fabulous bird reborn from its own ashes,” Mason said.

He spoke softly, more to himself than to anyone else in the room, but Hadley heard him and nodded. “Exactly. The JRA was one of the more extremist terrorist groups of the seventies. They were behind a number of terrorist incidents but are probably best remembered for the Lod Airport Massacre in Israel in 1972, where they killed twenty-six people. In the early eighties their leader renounced violence as a political weapon, but they reportedly are still based in the Middle East. Ohtori may be a pro-violence splinter group with their own agenda.”

“One working with the Iranians?” Admiral Bainbridge asked.

“Either with the Iranians, or with an Iranian faction,” Hadley replied. “The JRA has reportedly been based in the Middle East ever since the early seventies, with training camps in Libya and Syria. Though they've been more closely associated with the PFLP and other Palestinian groups, it is possible that they've taken up the cause of the international Shi'ite revolution sponsored by Iran.” Hadley ran one hand through his untidy fringe of white hair. “Whatever their goals, we can be certain that they are inimical to Western interests. They are anti-Israel, anti-American, and in favor of overthrowing the established order by armed revolution. It could be that they've decided to provide some additional arms to the revolution in the guise of the two tons of plutonium on that ship.”

“What about the Greenpeace schooner,” Admiral Bainbridge asked him. “What's her name?
Beluga
.”

“We've not been devoting satellite time to them, of course,” Hadley told him. “But our AWACS radar surveillance pinpoints them still on
Yuduki Maru
's tail, about twenty to thirty miles astern.”

“Someone should warn them off,” Captain Coburn pointed out. “I'd hate to see more civilians mixed up in this.”

“Actually, they've been quite useful so far,” Hadley said. “They called in the original report after
Shikishima
was sunk, and they've been filing position reports daily ever since.”

“Sure, but we have satellites to tell us where the freighter is. And these people are going to draw a lot of unwanted publicity onto our operation.”

“Actually,” Hadley said, “while there was some legitimate concern over media publicity during Operation Sun Hammer, the Security Council has decided that
Beluga
's presence in the area can become an asset.”

“Christ,” Mason said. “How?”

“First off,” Hadley replied, “the
negative
publicity if we move in and order
Beluga
out of there could generate adverse world opinion.
Beluga
is registered to Greenpeace, but her owner of record is a German millionaire named Rudi Kohler. He's one of the top eight or ten people in the Green Party movement, a prominent antinuclear activist . . . and he's a big name in the European news media. Owns half a dozen major papers and news magazines in Germany, France, and Italy. We barge in and order
him
out of there, and I guarantee that we're going to be accused of censorship, police-state tactics, and probably wife-beating as well.

“On the other hand, if Kohler is present when the U.S. Marines seize the
Yuduki Maru
and prevent an eco-disaster, our role in this affair will be seen in a positive light.”

“And what happens,” Admiral Bainbridge said slowly, “if something goes wrong in front of these people? If the terrorists blow up the freighter, for example, and end up contaminating half of the East African coast?”

Hadley gave him a humorless smile. “In that event, Admiral, I'm afraid all of the public relations in the world won't help. And we'll have more to worry about than Rudi Kohler's newspaper syndicate.

“That's all that I have at the moment, if there are no further questions. I will, of course, pass on further developments as they become available.” He stepped back from the podium. “Admiral Kerrigan?”

“Thank you, Brian.” Kerrigan again changed places with the Agency man. “Okay, gentlemen. I'm sure you're all eager to know just what part the Navy Special Warfare community is going to play in Operation Deadly Weapon.”

Here it comes
, Mason thought. He had the distinct feeling that Kerrigan was setting up the SEALs as part of his own power play. The way he'd phrased it, “is going to play,” suggested that NAVSPECWAR was now, at last, right where he wanted it.

“Since SEAL Seven's Third Platoon is already aboard the
Nassau
, they will be temporarily assigned to II MEF, under the command of General Vonnegut. They'll be pretty busy for the next few days as they undergo their mission debriefs. I will pass the word to Admiral Winston and General Vonnegut that they will be available for Deadly Weapon, if the site commanders deem their participation advisable. Yes, Admiral?”

“Ah, Admiral Kerrigan,” Bainbridge said. “Wouldn't it be advisable to deploy additional Special Warfare groups to the region? Captain Coburn could have the rest of SEAL Seven in place by—”

“No, Admiral, it would not,” Kerrigan said. “The Marines have their own special recon units, of course, and I very much doubt that your people could add much to the overall force picture. My staff will advise you of further developments. That is all.”

With a gesture of his head, he gathered in his retinue of aides and staffers and vanished from the room. For several moments, a low buzz of conversation rumbled among the SEAL personnel who remained.

Kerrigan, it was clear, had just scored the victory over the Special Warfare community that he'd been searching for for years; SEAL Seven's failure aboard the
Yuduki Maru
had given him the leverage he needed to all but exclude the SEALs from Deadly Weapon.

Mason thought about the hearings on the U.S. Navy SEALs still going on up in Washington and wondered how much weight Kerrigan's faction now carried on Capitol Hill.

The entire future of the SEALs might have just been settled once and for all, and settled with all of the finality of a door slamming shut.

“Hey, Skipper?”

“Hello, Mac. Whatcha got?”

Murdock was standing on
Nassau
's port-side elevator, which had been lowered to the hangar deck position. At his back, through the cavernous maw opened in
Nassau
's sheer, vertical side, lights glared from the overhead over a tangle of helicopters and AV-8 Harrier jumpjets. The aircraft were packed so closely that their order could have made sense only to the ship's “Mangler,” the officer in charge of moving aircraft about the interior of the huge amphibious assault ship and up the elevators to the flight deck above. The sense of chaos was heightened by the men serving the machines, and by the dozens of low-slung “mules,” vehicles that served as shipboard jeeps and tow trucks, skittering among the shadows.

It was more peaceful out here, Murdock thought, leaning against the elevator platform's safety railings beyond the spill of light from the glaring cavern of
Nassau
's interior. Twenty feet above the dimly seen froth of the LHA's wake, he could hear the hiss of the water against the assault ship's hull, the powerful throb of her screws astern.

“I don't mean to disturb you, Lieutenant,” MacKenzie said. He sounded hesitant.

“No problem, Chief. Come on out and enjoy the view.”

The view was spectacular, and one Murdock never tired of. Though the ship itself cut off half of the sky, the other half, visible to port, was a glory of stars undimmed by city smog or street lights. Aft, half a mile astern in
Nassau
's wake, the running lights of LPD 4, the U.S.S.
Austin
, added red, green, and white exclamation marks to the Milky Way's glowing message.

“Thanks, Lieutenant,” MacKenzie said, walking up and delivering a salute that Murdock returned. He was wearing a chief's khaki uniform and flat black-billed cap with a CPO's anchor-and-USN insignia, both acquired at the ship's store just that afternoon. “I got the guys bedded down. Weapons stripped and cleaned, gear stowed. The ship's store was able to provide dungarees or khakis for everyone.”

“That's good.” Murdock plucked at his own new khakis, distinguished by the railroad ties on the collar, and by the officer's eagle, shield, and crossed-anchor insignia on the cap. “I was beginning to think we were going to be running around in our wet suits for the rest of the cruise.”

Mac looked off into the darkness astern. “Hey, maybe you can tell me. Scuttlebutt says one of those slants we scooped up was a tango. Know anything about that?”

“Sorry, Chief. They haven't told me a damned thing.”

It was true. Murdock had heard the same stories, spreading now among the enlisted men and junior officers aboard the
Nassau
, but no one had been able to confirm them, and when he'd asked the intelligence officers they'd simply smiled and politely told him that their investigations were continuing, and that he would be informed if there was anything about the rescued men he should know.

“I get the impression we've been sent to Coventry, sir.”

“It's possible, Chief. I wouldn't worry about it, though. You and the men all did everything that was expected of you, and more.” He grinned, though he didn't know whether MacKenzie could see his expression in the poor light. “If anyone gets the axe for the Sun Hammer screwup, it'll be me.”

“Screwup, sir?”

“Hell, yeah, screwup. We didn't get the freighter, did we?”

“We locked up the Jap computer and we fucked up their starboard propeller shaft. That counts for something, sir, don't it? And we brought back those two slants. Even if neither one's a tango, that's bound to give G-2 some pretty solid intel on what's happening on that ship.”

“Maybe. But we failed to carry out our orders, Chief. That's something CO-NAVSPECWARGRU-Two and CO-MIDEASTFOR don't like to hear. Especially with so much riding on it.”

He'd spent most of the past twenty minutes watching the stars and the ship's wake and wondering how this was all going to shake out. His father, conceivably, could use the episode as additional ammunition to force him out of the SEALs, if only because a congressman's son couldn't be permitted to embarrass his father; hell, Captain Coburn might be under pressure from half a dozen different directions right now, all urging him to dump Blake Murdock. Unless G-2 had more questions for him and the team tomorrow, he expected they'd all be heading back to CONUS by sometime tomorrow afternoon. From what he'd heard from the Marine officers aboard the
Nassau
, II MEF would be handling things from here on out.

“Well, if you ask me, Lieutenant,” MacKenzie said, “you did a hell of a job out there. The guys think so too, all of 'em. I just thought you should know that.” He saluted again, turned on his heel, and strode back onto
Nassau
's hangar deck, leaving a stunned Murdock saluting empty air.