“We assumed that would be your course, sir.” The lieutenant smiled. “My people are moving the material inside as we speak.” He gestured toward a table at the rear of the hanger. “We’ve also arranged for some coffee and breakfast for you.” His smile widened. “Thought you might be a bit peckish.”

  “Thank you.” Flame smiled. “That was very thoughtful.”

  “We aim to please.”

  “Now, young man…” Marmor took a step forward. “While the team prepares itself, I would appreciate it if you would take me to the bridge.” He traded looks with Flame. “I have a number of messages to send.”

  “This way, sir.” The lieutenant motioned for Marmor to follow him. “And if the rest of you need anything,” he said, with another hand gesture, “just ask Ensign Smith.”

  Fixer grinned. Ensign Smith was a very good looking ash blonde with a surfer’s body and a suntan to match.

  “Thank you, Lieutenant,” he said. “We’ll be sure to do just that.”

  “Watch it, Fixer.” Flame shook his head. “That’s how Gino got in trouble.”

  “Remind me to tell you a story about some Australian lasses and an American sailor toward the end of the Second World War.” Aesop’s eyes twinkled. “I think you’d find it educational.” He stepped to the table at the back of the room. “Look! They have shrimp!”

  The others laughed and joined him. It had been hours since their last meal and might be more hours until their next. They would eat while they could.

  Even though none of them were accustomed to having shrimp for breakfast…

  ***

  “Something’s wrong,” Bivens reported to Dana the moment she stepped back into the office. “The East Wind is barely moving now.”

  “Any idea why?”

  “I can’t get a good look.” He brought up what imagery he had. “We lost the NSA bird a couple of hours ago and I’ve been relying on this Chinese satellite. Its optics are shit but it has good infra-red systems.” The screen lit up in blue, green, yellow and red. “This is the East Wind.” He pointed at a mostly red shape in the middle of the blue. “If you watch for a few minutes, you can see that it’s not really going anywhere.”

  “Did you notify Flame?”

  “He and his team are already in the water. He figured it would be best to investigate in person.”

  “Typical!”

  “You know…” Bivens enlarged the image. “It’s possible they launched a boat.” He shook his head. “But we just don’t have the resolution to be sure.”

  “Any chance of reacquiring the NSA satellite?”

  “I’m working on that,” he shrugged. “But it all depends on what they consider important right now.”

  “Understood.” She headed for her desk. The admiral would need to know about this…

  ***

  Half a world away, Flame and his team were approaching the missing yacht. They were using a powered sled, provided by the admiral, to catch up to the target—something that was proving easier than they had anticipated.

  “Bivens was right,” Fixer muttered into his earbud. “I don’t think it’s moving at all,”

  “No engine sounds.” Aesop was using the simplistic fixed forward sonar the sled boasted. “Not even a generator.” He shook his head. “It’s just wallowing in the chop.”

  “Ideas?” Flame raised a hand as he asked the question. “Do we abort? Change the mission plan?”

  “Don’t see any reason to do that,” Aesop quickly answered. “This might be better for us—that deck is dark as night.”

  “And SEALs own the night.” Fixer sighed. “I am so sick of hearing that.”

  “Get used to it, pal.” Flame grinned. “If you want to keep working with us.”

  “Point taken.” Fixer smiled. “Shall we go to work?”

  “Let’s.” Flame nodded. “Aesop?”

  “Got it.” The big SEAL activated his maneuvering thrusters. “Prepare for drop…”

  Flame was in the water seconds later. The admiral had equipped them with LAR V Draeger Rebreathers—a good choice as the units were lightweight and left no telltale bubbles on the surface. Of course, they couldn’t dive below seventy feet but on this mission that was not going to be a problem.

  Flame gave Aesop a thumbs-up when he was sure the unit was functioning properly and submerged. He had just over a minute to swim under the yacht and find a way to board on the port side—Fixer would board starboard and Aesop would hold position as close to the ship as the big SEAL could manage which, Flame knew, meant he would be nearly touching the other ship.

  The water was dark and Flame didn’t want to use a light of any kind. Instead, he maneuvered using the compass strapped to his wrist to keep him on course and his own BUD/S-trained sense of distance to know when to surface.

  He came up just a few feet from his targeted position—port and sternwards of Fixer’s forward and starboard position.

  “In position,” Flame muttered, knowing that the bone conduction of the earbud would allow his team to hear.

  “Me too.” The reply came seconds later from Fixer.

  Flame unshipped the lightweight and carefully padded grappling hook and line he had strapped to his equipment belt. He waited while the East Wind rolled in the swell before pitching the hook up and over the railing.

  It caught with a whisper of padding against metal.

  Should hold, he thought, tugging on the line. Now… Flame pulled himself up the side of the ship hand-over-hand, pausing when his eyes reached deck-height. “Clear at the stern,” he said as he climbed onto the deck, clicked the safety on his AK-47 to off and pulled his night vision goggles down over his eyes.

  There was nothing in sight.

  “Clear here,” he informed the team.

  “Bow is clear.”

  “Check the wheelhouse.” Flame headed for the ladder that he knew would lead to the engineering space. “I’m going to engineering.”

  “Roger.”

  The interior of the ship was completely dark—so dark that the night vision system was little help. It showed just enough to allow Flame to clamber down into the bowels of the ship but not much more.

  “Dark as hell down here,” he muttered as his feet touched the lower deck. “Moving into engineering.”

  He already knew that the motors weren’t running—the place was completely silent.

  He cursed as his foot slipped out from under him. “I can’t see shit down here.” He pulled a flashlight from his belt. “I’m going to have to use a light.” Flame pushed his night vision goggles up and switched the flashlight on. It immediately showed him why he had slipped.

  “Got a body.” He moved his foot out of a puddle of blood and felt for a pulse. “Cold and dead.”

  “Two in the wheelhouse,” Fixer reported. “Heading for the passenger area.”

  “I’ll see if I can get the emergency lights up.” Flame rubbed the sole of his boot across the ribbed flooring—he wanted to be sure he wouldn’t slip again. “Hold on.”

  “Should be a switch in a metal utility cabinet that lies just forward of the engines on the starboard bulkhead.” Aesop had studied the yacht’s schematics during the flight to the Toowoomba. “It’s at the top left—only one there. Up is on.”

  “Got it.” Flame’s light passed over the cabinet in question. “Just a second,” he said, and then pulled the metal door open and found the switch in question. “It’s off, all right. I’ll just push it up…”

  Emergency lights—red in color—came on all over the engineering deck.

  “Got it.” He secured his flashlight. “I’m going to check out the rest of this area. Fixer, you look for our target.”

  “Roger.”

  The two men spent the next hour scouring the yacht. They found a total of nine dead bodies in all, two of which, Flame thought, were pirates—not members of the crew.

  As the sun rose, Flame reported to Dana. “Tell the Aussies they can bring the frigate in—they’re going to need a prize crew to take this tub home…” He smiled. “If they can get the engines to work.”

  “What about our targets?”

  “No sign of them on board.” He shook his head. “I think they were taken off in a small boat—probably headed for shore right now.”

  “We’re doing our best to check that,” Dana told him. “Bivens tells me he’ll have a satellite with a good enough optical system to find that boat in position within the hour.”

  “Roger.” Flame looked around. “We’ll secure our gear and transfer back to the Toowoomba so we can confer with Mr. Marmor before we make our next move.”

  “Any idea what that might be?” Dana put in dryly.

  “Well, if Bivens finds out they went to Somalia…”

  “Flame, I don’t think…”

  “We’ll talk about it later.” Flame shook his head. “After Bivens finds out where our target is.” He tapped the earbud, turning it off.

  ***

  Edward Said avoided looking at his companion as the small boat he and the Israeli had been loaded onto got closer to the Somalian port. Don’t look at me like that, Moshe my friend. He shook his head. I had to do it—if I had not, this mad pirate would have killed us both.

  As it was most of the crew of the East Wind had been slaughtered in front of the two envoys. Killed because their ship’s engines had shut down, leaving the pirates and their captives stranded fewer than a hundred miles from shore.

  He went after his own people first, Said remembered. Beating the man he had put in charge of the engine room to death. The pirate mate had been next—shot out of hand for pleading with the captain to stop the killing.

  That was when he turned on his captives—including Moshe and me. Said had been forced to reveal his identity to save his skin—assuring the Somali that the Palestinian Authority would pay a huge ransom to have him back—and that any number of Islamic organizations would pay even more to have Moshe Carmel, a high-ranking Israeli military officer and politician.

  That kept the two of them alive—and allowed Said to save the man he used as an aide and manservant. The others, however…

  They just shot them down like dogs, he thought. Lined them up and executed them. He shook his head. They’re barbarians! He looked toward the looming mass of land just appearing as the sun rose over the horizon. I will see to it that they are properly punished for what they did. He hid a smile. As soon as I am safely out of their reach!

  ***

  “The captain will not take his vessel any closer to the African shoreline,” the third officer, a sallow-looking youngster, told Marmor. “He says that he is not willing to take the risk.”

  “I understand.” Marmor nodded. “I would not ask him to do so. I merely want him to remain on station for a short time—nothing more.”

  “I’ll tell him.” The young man nodded quickly. “I’m sure that will be acceptable.” He looked at the three-man team and the equipment they had set out across the hanger deck. “Can I ask what they are preparing for?”

  “You can ask.” Marmor smiled. “But I’m afraid I can’t tell you.”

  “Yes sir.” The young man braced himself and nodded. “I will pass your request to the captain.”

  “Thank you.” Marmor nodded back. “Please tell him that her majesty appreciates his cooperation in this matter.”

  “Yes sir.” The officer straightened a little at the mention of the queen. “I will do so.” He paused. “Would you and your men care to join us in the Officer’s Mess for lunch?”

  “I think not.” Marmor glanced at Flame who had field-stripped his AK-47 and was busily cleaning each and every part to make sure it hadn’t been damaged by its time in saltwater. “If he would be kind enough to send food down…”

  A slight sign of relief passed across the youngster’s face. “Ensign Smith will handle that.” He nodded, pleased with himself for avoiding further dealing with the rough men on the hanger deck. “She’ll be down to see what your people want within the hour.”

  “Thank you,” Marmor gave the youngster a polite smile. “And thank your captain as well.”

  “What was that all about?” Flame asked as the hatch closed behind the young officer.

  “The captain is afraid of venturing anywhere outside international waters.” Marmor shrugged. “He knows that I can arrange to have him ordered to do what I ask—so he sent that rather puerile young man to act as his buffer.”

  “Will he hold on station until we get back?”

  “I don’t see how he can avoid doing that.” Marmor smiled. “Do you?”

  “I guess not.” Flame clicked the last piece into place and ran the charging handle back and forth a few times to make sure it was working smoothly. “We’ll have our gear ready in an hour or so. Can you get us some bedding?”

  “You want to sleep here?”

  “Better that way,” Flame smiled. “We won’t upset the smooth functioning of the ship.”

  “As you wish.” Marmor nodded. “We’ll ask Ensign Smith when she comes down to arrange for your lunch and dinner.”

  “Blondie’s coming down here?” Francis looked up from his own disassembled M4. “When?”

  “Any time now.”

  “Good.” He snapped the last part into place. “I want to talk to her.”

  “Just make sure it’s only talk, Fixer.” Flame raised an eyebrow. “At least until we’re done with the mission.”

  “Understood,” the marine nodded. “I didn’t think I’d have time for anything else…” He grinned. “At least not right now.”

  Flame shook his head and turned back to the rotund Brit. “We’ll need a secure connection to the States—I’ll want to talk to Dana before we proceed.”

  “Already set up.” Marmor gestured to the far side of the hanger. “Should be a jack on that wall for you to use whenever you’re ready.”

  “Good.” Flame pulled his laptop from its protective bag. “”Cause I want to know just how far the admiral wants us to go on this one…”

  ***

  “…As far as you feel comfortable with, Flame,” Dana told him on a secure Skype connection a short while later. “The admiral trusts your judgment.” She gave a sly smile. “Which means he expects you to go all the way.” She stared into his eyes. “I, however, expect you to show at least a little caution.”

  “I will, Dana.” Flame nodded. “I have no intention of walking into Mogadishu or anything like that…”

  “Good.” Her smile returned. “Then you’ll be pleased to know that Bivens doesn’t think our two subjects went to Mogadishu. He got what he calls a ‘good’ satellite image that he believes shows a small craft coming ashore at a small fishing village near a place called…” She glanced at notes to the side of her laptop. “Kismaayo.”

  “Never heard of it.” Flame shook his head. “I’ll have to look it up.”

  “Bivens will have a briefing package together within the hour.”

  “Good. I guess we’re gonna need it.”

  “Do you need any more help?”

  “I wish we had the time to get someone.” Flame glanced at his two companions, still working over their gear. “I think we’re going to have to jump in—and I can’t ask Aesop to do that with his leg…”

  “He’ll be pissed if he can’t do the job.”

  “Yeah,” Flame nodded. “I know that. I figure I’ll task him as our evac—he can handle that just fine.” Flame bit into his lower lip. “Still, I wish I had another couple of guns…”

  “I’ll see if Bremby knows anyone in that part of the world.”

  “Good idea.” Flame nodded. “In the meantime, I’m going to get a few hours sleep while I wait for your briefing package.”

  “You do that.” A worried look flashed across Dana’s face. “And no dreams—hear?”

  “No dreams.” Flame nodded. “Got it.” He closed his connection and turned toward the hanger. The Aussies had set up three bunks in the corner of the hanger and had a rather elaborate dinner setting on the table nearby. Aesop had already eaten his fill and turned in. Flame was ready to join him. Fixer, on the other hand…

  “Remember what I said, man,” Flame whispered as he passed the marine on his way to the bunks. “Talk only.”

  Francis smiled and waved him off, continuing his talk with the pretty Australian ensign as he did so.

  I guess he can’t get into too much trouble right here on her ship, Flame told himself as he settled into his bunk. He lifted his head enough to check on the two one more time—they were seated a little close together but aside from that…

  Just forget about it, Flame told himself. Worry about it later. Right now… He sighed and closed his eyes, pushing his worries to the back of his mind. They would keep until tomorrow when more would undoubtedly be added.

  And people would probably be shooting at him.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  Edward Said breathed a sigh of relief when the small boat finally reached the shore. He had expected them to dock in Mogadishu but the increasingly erratic Somali captain had instead brought them to a much smaller town—almost a village—that lay, as far as Said could tell from the direction of the sun, somewhere south of the capital.

  “Here now,” Said shouted at the captain as the pirates tied their vessel to a pile driven into the sand near the shore. “I thought we had a deal?”

  “Deal not complete until your friends pay ransom. Until then…” He signaled to his men to bring the three prisoners ashore. “You stay with us.”

  Said cursed as he and the others were forced to march through the knee-deep water and onto the beach. This is humiliating, he thought. I’ll make the bastard pay for this!

  For now, however, any plans for revenge would have to wait as Said and his manservant were forced into a small shack at the edge of the village—and Moshe Carmel was pushed in right behind them.

  “Moshe.” Said helped the other negotiator to his feet. “I’m so sorry I had to do that, it’s just that…”