Chapter 22 #2
“No.” She shook her head. “I think they’re just putting pieces together so the first wave can happen.” She paused. “In theory, of course.”
Bill squeezed the back of her neck and then hugged her to him.
Marshal Stalling said, “Public ports closed down weeks ago. Government’s in chaos. Rival gangs are warring on the streets. But the port where the ship docks is privately owned. Security to and from the resort is always tight. Maybe they’ve compromised it.”
Lynda nodded. “Like they compromised this crew. So, they have this security drill, and all the passengers are on the island. Then they can load the weapons, and no one is the wiser. They must have people on the island.”
Ege said, “But the island is staffed with cruise ship employees year-round. There is radar and security to protect the island. An alert would have gone out.”
Bill crushed his water bottle. “Nope. They’re too organized. They took the island last night at a minimum. Anyone there now besides the passengers should be considered bad actors.”
“Five of the bodies out there had staff uniforms on.” Fisher drained his water. “I’m going to guess this is a plan that has been a long game.”
Pena nodded. “It’s what we’d do. That’s certainly what China would do.”
Ege shook his head. “No. Impossible. That would mean hundreds of crew and staff.”
Anderson said, “If we’re talking PRC, as in People’s Liberation Army of China, they could take a resort island without a sound.
Throw a thousand mercenaries at it. PLA SOF could take that little island with a company-sized element without getting their boots dirty.
Thing is, though, they’d need to keep it quiet.
As soon as word gets out, the Haitian civilian port would shut down and they’d never get their weapons unloaded. ”
“They would have had that Island crew infiltrated as well,” Swanson said. “Get someone on the inside to disable security.”
Pena caught Norton’s eye. “What are your orders, Daddy?”
Norton slipped his tie over his head and unbuttoned his top button.
“I think you’re the Daddy here, Jorge. I’ll follow your lead, sir.
” He slung the strap of his rifle over one shoulder and the bandolier strap over the other.
At Swanson’s questioning look, Norton said, “We announced it the day we took leave. They’re sending me to D.C. ”
Anderson spoke up for the first time. “But why would China risk an international incident?”
Norton rubbed his beard. “Seems like they’re using Haitian nationals to do most of the heavy lifting. Gives them plausible deniability.”
Sanders took off his jacket and loosened his tie. “You’re gonna fit right in up in D.C., like a hog in slop.”
Panic danced along Jerry’s neck. “As much as I appreciate all this speculation, we’re burning daylight.
They’re going to wonder where their minions disappeared to if they don’t report back soon.
They’ll definitely notice the lack of security cameras.
I’m guessing they came to collect or eliminate us since they would figure our DHS friends were armed. ”
Marshall Stalling said, “Didn’t count on Secret Service and US Marshals. I got one for sure. Maybe two.”
Lynda shook her head. “We can’t assume that.
If they infiltrated the crew, they could have known there were armed agents here.
They came to take out the Secret Service and the Marshals.
Secret Service has constant communication as well as small arms. If the mission—and I stress if because obviously I don’t actually know—but, if the mission is to transport weapons into Haiti in a clandestine operation, then the Secret Service raising the alarm would directly interfere with their plans. ”
Agent Guthrie stood in the doorway of the back room, guarding the entrance while Cynthia remained inside. “My partner Lewis had the satphone.”
Fisher said, “It’s fried. Took a bullet.”
Guthrie lifted his eyebrow. “I just tried to use the courtesy phone in here to contact the bridge or comms room, but it’s dead.
Fisher pulled out his cell phone. “Jammer. Russian R-330Zh Zhitel set, or more likely Chinese JN-1105A.”
Chase Anderson added, “That means our OPFOR must be using Tbr-121s for comms, unless they whitelisted their other devices.” He picked up a handheld radio they had retrieved from one of the corpses.
Blood dripped off it, and the top of it had vanished under the impact of a bullet.
In an almost arrogant display of strength, he casually smashed the device against the deck to crack the case open, then inspected the electronic innards.
After a momentary inspection, Anderson let out a low whistle.
Glancing over his shoulder, Fisher confirmed, “State of the art. They got us on comms.”
Pena walked over to Captain Ege. “Are ship’s comms separate from the bridge?”
Ege’s eyes darted all around, as if suddenly realizing that well-armed men in tuxedos and dress suits surrounded him. His breathing increased, and his voice rose a little. “Who are you people? What are you planning to do?”
Calmly, Pena slung his rifle and rapidly snapped his fingers three times in front of Ege’s nose. “Are ship’s comms separate from the bridge, Captain?”
Ege looked at all the men as if he realized that every man in this room radiated a lethal intent. He took a deep breath and said, “Yes. They are. Same deck, different entry.”
“Stay calm. Cooperate. You’ll get through this alive. Understand?” Pena asked.
Ege nodded.
“Good. Draw me a map. Then draw me a map to the armory. Don’t blow smoke. I know you have one.” He turned his back on the captain, fully expecting the man to comply, and said to the group, “We need to reestablish comms. Trout and,” he paused, looking at Anderson, “Heisman can hook us up.”
A voice speaking Chinese came over one of the radios. Pena looked to Emma. She said, “He’s asking what’s taking so long.”
Norton gestured at the radio. “There was a woman out there. Not in crew uniform. Black fatigues.”
Emma tapped the radio’s antenna against her lip. “Chinese or Haitian woman?”
“Chinese.”
She raised an eyebrow. “Shall I answer?”
Pena’s lips pursed, then he said, “Worth a shot. Say you encountered resistance, but you’re headed back soon.”
Emma covered the microphone of the sophisticated handheld with the hem of her dress, clearly trying to slightly muffle her voice.
She quickly rehearsed some Mandarin. It sounded like a nursery rhyme to Jerry.
Then she cleared her throat and transmitted.
As soon as Emma finished her transmission, Jerry said, “We need to move before they send someone to find out why they haven’t made it back yet. ”
The voice came again, and Emma translated. “Asking how many hostages.”
Pena shook his head. “Stall him from now on. You’re busy securing the hostages and whatnot.” Emma nodded. Pena took the paper from Ege. “Okay, comms, then armory.” He looked at Ege again. “Where is that cargo bay in relation to the deck that has the loading dock for the tenders?”
Captain Ege took the paper back and quickly sketched out the ship. He explained the decks. “Cargo elevator would go down to decks one and two.”
“They shouldn’t be expecting resistance,” Jerry said. “They’ve removed all the passengers.” His mind shifted to Olive, and he intentionally shut that down.
“Obviously, they picked the wrong boat,” Pena said. He pointed to Emma. “I need you with us to translate the radio transmissions.”
“Yes, you do,” she said. “But I’ll do it from here. We don’t have gear, and I don’t want to be in the way.”
Jerry checked the time. They’d wasted five whole minutes. Tension tightened his neck. He said to Captain Ege, “Give us your badge. We don’t want to break down doors or get stalled at sealed steel portholes.”
Ege fumbled with his badge clipped to his crisp white uniform shirt. “Of course. My keypad code is 112233.”
“Original,” Jerry observed, pocketing the badge.
Pena said, “Listen up. Challenge is ‘white dress.’ Password is ‘bowtie.’ Straphangers, take rear guard. The rest of you stack up as usual. Stealth is the one ROE until we get loud. We’ll use these suppressed pistols, blades, or hands and feet until we have to pivot. Clear?”
Everyone said, “Roger.”
“Absolutely no one,” Pena said, “And I mean no one is authorized to get himself killed. I do not need that kind of paperwork hassle. Jerry. You’re my senior NCO. All set?”
Somehow, the fact that Jerry was the most senior non-commissioned officer present had eluded him in his concern for Olive. Jerry nodded, “Semper Paratus, Daddy.” Always prepared.
Norton put his hand on Ege’s arm and said, “Thank you, sir. We’ll get your ship back. Listen to the agents.” He released Ege’s arm and turned to Chaplain’s Assistant Tyler Blackwell. “You and the Chaplain better get some prayers going. I’d join you, but we’re pressed for time.”
“Yes, sir,” Blackwell said.
Pena said, “Good. Let’s roll.”
Between the available rifles and pistols, they all left armed.
Ibrahim took point going down the staircase.
They moved as one unit, silently, communicating with hand signals and gestures—two fingers, forward; fist clenched, hold.
Anderson impressed Jerry, staying with them, following their lead, even though he’d never trained with them.
He also moved quietly for a man of his bulk, much like Brock.
They encountered no one. The ship’s usual hum—voices, laughter, piped music, regular announcements —had vanished, replaced by a hollow silence that pressed against Jerry’s ears like tinnitus. The bad guys must have swept through deck by deck and cleared each one before coming to the chapel.
At the stairwell door to Deck Eleven, Ibrahim froze, fist raised.
The team sank into a crouch, weapons up, breaths shallow.
Jerry knew if he were in charge of the invading force, he’d have guards at comms. But they needed to move silently and swiftly.
Pena dispatched Brock and Sanders to conduct reconnaissance.
Jerry slipped out of the doorway and crouched in the corner of the corridor, his weapon ready.
What he wouldn’t give for a nice high perch and his beloved Cassie.
Swanson, his old sniper spotter, crouched on the other side of the corner. They made eye contact, nodded once, then focused their attention down the corridor.