“A successful operation, Lieutenant Talley.”

  “It’s Abe, Captain Walker,” he corrected her.

  She grinned. “And it’s Caitlin, Abe. It seems we’ve buried the hatchet.”

  Until she finds out I’m about to beach her for the next stage of the operation.

  “I hope so. Yeah, we got the hostages out, and put some of the pirates out of business. I guess it’ll make the rest of them think seriously before they go out looking for ships to hijack.”

  “Maybe, or make them fight all the harder.”

  Her face wore an expression that he couldn’t quite make out.

  “You think we should kill more of them, that just deterring them won’t stop them?”

  She shook her head. “I don’t believe that a deterrent will stop them, no. These people were so grindingly poor before the piracy that they’ll die before they give it up. But that’s something else. What we need is to stop the terrorists from organizing the piracy before it becomes so big it’s unstoppable, a multi-national operation.”

  “Go on.” He didn’t like where she was going with this.

  She stared at him. “Which means killing this General Barre. I believe he’s the lynchpin of the whole operation. Take him down, and they’ll literally implode. Go back to being a few armed fishermen in motorized rowboats, not terrorists armed with RPGs and heavy machine guns.”

  “I guess so.”

  He could have bitten off his tongue. She was making points that were valid, and very real. And he was so tired, so exhausted as the post mission adrenaline low kicked in, that he was almost ignoring her, patronizing her, even. He wanted to say something to put it right, but he also wanted to rest just for a few hours. He felt his head sagging.

  “I’m coming with you.”

  His head whipped up. “Where?”

  But he already knew.

  “Mogadishu.”

  He nodded. There’ll be time enough to change things around when they hold the briefing.

  The Black Hawk lowered gently to the flight deck. Colonel Hakim stood near the island, watching as they descended. A couple of hundred feet away were the scorch marks, stains and gouges where Caitlin had brought in the damaged V22 Osprey. There was no sign of that aircraft, and Talley assumed they’d taken it down to the hangar for repairs. Unless Rear Admiral Alexander had ordered it bulldozed over the side, in a fit of pique for the damage done to his new command. The other Osprey was at the far end of the flight deck, hidden behind four more Black Hawks, as if it had been relegated to the penalty box because of persistent and deliberate fouls. They climbed down from the helo and met Hakim who’d come out to meet them.

  “If you hurry, you may see something interesting. Those Somalis are nearing the compound, and the Reaper driver is standing by to salvo the Hellfires on their heads. Come through to the operations room, and we’ll take a look.”

  Wearily, they followed him into the island and through the maze of corridors and stairways until they reached their destination. Inside, the huge LCD display was alive with images beamed back from the Reaper circling the compound they’d so recently left. Now that it was dawn, everything was clear and in sharp focus.

  “What altitude is this coming from?” he asked Hakim.

  “They tell me their bird is cruising at about five thousand feet. That’s optimum for this kind of operation, a combined reconnaissance, and aerial bombardment.”

  “They can’t see it from the ground?”

  He shook his head. “Not really, no. The underbelly of the MQ-9 is painted with air superiority camouflage, making it all but invisible from below, especially at that height. No, they won’t see it. Not until the missiles launch, anyway. And they’ll sure notice when those things hit. They’re the Hellfire IIs, fitted with the metal augmented charge, the latest fuel air explosives. When they hit, I assure you it’ll entirely ruin their day.”

  Talley nodded. “I’m not complaining, but what about the hostages? How long before the landing craft reach them?”

  “They tell me they’ll be there in about a half hour. Don’t worry, Lieutenant, they’re quite safe.”

  “Sure. I’ll stop worrying when they step onto this boat.”

  Hakim winced, Rear Admiral Alexander stood at the opposite side of the room, and he glared at the junior officer for calling the mighty nuclear carrier, his pride and joy, ‘a boat’.

  A sailor called to him, “Colonel Hakim, Sir, they’re coming out from under the jungle canopy. Creech reports all systems ready to fire on your order.”

  “Very well. Send the order for them to fire as soon as the vehicles enter the compound.”

  On the big screen, they watched the line of SUVs and trucks inch toward the gate. The image was focused down low, so Talley could see the bodies of the men they’d killed, sprawled at odd angles in the bottom of the trenches. The pirate convoy consisted of ten regular trucks and a half dozen 'Technicals', the strange hybrids that had mushroomed in the many conflicts on the African continent. The Technical consisted of an open backed commercial SUV, often a Nissan or a Toyota Land Cruiser, with a range of heavy weaponry mounted on the truck bed. Four of the pirate Technicals carried single heavy machine guns, Russian built DShks. The fifth carried a twin barrel ZSU-23, Russian built anti-aircraft artillery. The last Technical carried a recoilless rifle, yet another Russian weapon, the B-11. In the hands of an experience artilleryman, it was formidable, firing a huge 127mm shell. Talley reflected it was fortunate these weapons were about to be put out of business, permanently. The drivers slowed as their commanders looked down on the carnage in the trenches, but they kept going, heading for the illusory safety of the compound. The gate still hung open, and they drove straight in. The Reaper driver back at Creech Air Force base in the Nevada desert, waited until the last vehicle was inside. Then they went to work.

  In the operations room, they saw the spurt of smoke and flame that announced the launch of the first Hellfire II. The missile had only a short distance to travel, and within seconds, it slammed into the rearmost Technical carrying the recoilless rifle. The vehicle, a Nissan truck, exploded, and the light steel of the non-military bodywork was blown apart by the blast. The operator was clever; the wreck of the Nissan blocked the gate, allowing no escape for the vehicles in front. Then the rest of the Hellfires rained down. The Reaper carried fourteen of the missiles, and the operator used them to enclose the target in a ring of burning and exploding vehicles. Secondary explosions began as the fires became sufficiently intense to ignite both fuel tanks and ammunition supplies. One vehicle, a Land Cruiser with a single DShks mounted on the bed, smashed through the compound fence and tried to escape, but the driver had forgotten the defensive trenches. His front wheels drove straight into the wide hole in the ground, stopping the vehicle dead. Another Hellfire roared down, and the Toyota became a smoking funeral pyre. Talley counted the missiles; when the fourteenth and last had been launched, the Reaper would be out of ammunition. But there was no evidence there was anything left to shoot. The secondary explosions had wreaked such carnage that after the tenth Hellfire, there’d been little left to destroy. One of the officers grumbled about the waste of money on such overkill, at seventy thousand dollars a pop, but the criticism was unwarranted; the Reaper had done its job well. These particular pirates would not be putting to sea again to harry and pillage the sea lanes off the coast of North East Africa.

  “That’s it, Gentlemen,” Colonel Hakim exclaimed, looking at Talley. “Lieutenant, I suggest you and your men get some rest. We’ll meet again here at 1800 hours to go over the next stage of the operation.

  “You mean Mogadishu?”

  “I do. Mogadishu.”

  They’d allocated spare cabin space to Talley’s team inside the vast, honeycomb interior of the Abraham Lincoln. His cabin, with two single berths, belonged to a pair of technical officers who were currently Stateside on an upgrade course. He was relieved to have some privacy after the past few days that had turned his life upside down; the unexpected call to go into action, and the brief yet exhausting fight with the Somalis. Echo Six had performed well. There was no doubt the hostage rescue would go on the board as a complete success. But there were question marks on members of the team that needed to be resolved. Not only Brenner and Dubois, whose mental stability he had strong doubts about. But the Italian, Domenico Rovere. It occurred to him that he hadn’t actually seen the Italian fight. He’d always been prominent during the mission briefings, and was without doubt a fit and able officer. His training scores had been impeccable. But his personal interest was more in looking at beautiful women, especially the delectable Caitlin Walker, than actually doing any fighting.

  Am I being fair? I need to speak to some of the men, and ask if they’ve seen Rovere doing any fighting.

  He sighed, two psychos and doubts about one of his men. He’d have to fix it, but not until this Mogadishu operation was over. And that brought up another problem. Caitlin Walker. He was critical of Rovere for flirting with her, or trying to. But he didn’t want her on the Mogadishu mission, and he knew the reason why. He found her intriguing, a very pretty girl who had no place when the lead was flying, and the air nauseous with the stench of blood, and the screams of wounded and dying men.

  I know I’m being chauvinist, but hell, that’s the way I am. And she’s too damn pretty, too damn pretty by half. Should I be guilty at looking at another woman?

  He thought of his wife, back home in La Mesa, in San Diego County. He’d always assumed they would always be together. Until she’d made it clear how unhappy she was, the night before he left for Fort Bragg. They’d been lying in bed.

  “Abe, I’m fed up with you leaving me on my own when you go off around the world.”

  “Honey, it’s no different to when I was with the Seals. There’s a chance we could move nearer to Washington too. After all, that’s where your folks are from originally. Anyway, you’re not on your own, you have the kids, James and little Joshua.”

  She’d sneered at that. “How would you like it, Abe, stuck at home with two babies? It’s not a bundle of fun.”

  “But you said it’s what you wanted.”

  “Maybe I did, but I want more with my life.”

  Something in her tone had alerted him to a deeper message she was conveying to him.

  “What are you trying to tell me, Kay?”

  “Nothing,” she’d muttered, turning out the light and pulling the bedcover over her in a gesture of dismissal.

  From that moment, he’d realized his marriage was in trouble. He couldn’t stop the way everything was rushing downhill. He’d called her from Fort Bragg before he left the States for Somalia, and it was then she dropped the bombshell.

  “I want a divorce, Abe.”

  “You what!”

  “A divorce. I’ve been to see the lawyer, Abe. He says I’m to have the house and sole custody of the kids.”

  “But, that’s crazy!”

  The kids? Jesus Christ, she’s ripping out my soul.

  “Well you can hardly care for them, can you? Rushing around the world? You’re always solving other people’s problems. Well, I have problems of my own, and it’s time they were dealt with. I’ll send you an email when we have the date for the hearing, and the lawyer said he’s sent you copies of the divorce papers.”

  He’d argued, cajoled, but she’d been adamant. He’d grabbed a couple of hours to speak to a local lawyer who was used to military problems, having his office so close to Fort Bragg. The man had said that in a divorce, she almost certainly would get everything. Afterwards, he’d realized that this was not a spur of the moment decision. She’d been building up to this for some time.

  Is there another guy? Oh shit, sleeping in my bed, in my house, with my wife, and my kids in the bedroom next door. Shit! And yet, I’m still married. Maybe there’s still some hope, or am I just being foolish?

  He started as there was a knock on the cabin door.

  “It’s not locked.”

  The door opened and Caitlin Walker stood there. She’d found time for a wash and clean up, and someone, one of the many female officers on the carrier, had lent her a uniform. A female USN officer’s working uniform, and it fitted her like a glove. She looked fresh, smart and very, very desirable. A wave of dejection swept over him. He was tired, exhausted from the sheer effort and tension of leading the rescue mission inside Somalia. At any other time, he’d have felt pleased that she’d looked him up. But right then he had a raft of problems to resolve, and more than a few hours’ sleep to catch up on.

  “Did I catch you at an inconvenient time? I wanted to talk to you.”

  She stood waiting for him to invite her in.

  “Can’t it wait, Caitlin? I’m kind of catching up on a few things.”

  She stared at him coolly. “I can see that, maybe another time.”

  She turned on her heel and walked out. He cursed. He’d acted like a spoiled child. He lay back on the bunk and closed his eyes, but sleep was a long time coming. And his dreams were haunted by images of Kay and kids.

  She was laughing at him as he tried to get into the house, but the key didn’t fit, she’d changed the locks. Inside the, kids were screaming, “Daddy, Daddy!” But he couldn’t get to them. “James, Joshua, I coming, I’m coming. Wait for me.” But he couldn’t get in. The house was as fortified as a bank vault. He turned to go back to his car, and Caitlin Walker was standing there. She was naked in the California sunshine, and she held her hand out to him. Behind him, he heard his wife’s taunting voice.

  “Go to your fucking whore, Abe. Maybe you’ll treat her better than you did me.”

  He shouted back to her. “Kay, I did my best. I did everything I could.”

  “You’re a liar,” she spat back at him. “Plenty of men in the service have wives at home, and they treat them well. Better than you ever did. Go on, go to your whore. She’s waiting for you.”

  What did that mean? Does she have a lover, a guy stashed away somewhere? Maybe another naval officer, one she thought would care for her better than he had?

  He heard his kids, screaming for him again, “Daddy, help us!”

  “Kay!”

  “Get out, and don’t come back.”

  A voice behind him, he turned again. Caitlin. “Abe, come with me. It’ll be okay.”

  “No, no, I can’t, my kids are in there. I have to go and get them. James, Joshua, I’m coming, I’m coming. Please God; I hope it isn’t too late.”

  And then he saw the face inside the window of his house, Joshua Nkebe, holding the kids. He was smeared in blood, his limbs askew, teeth missing, but he was grinning as he held up the big .50 caliber Smith and Wesson and pointed it. And then he pulled the trigger, and the kids screamed for the last time.

  “No!!!”

  Chapter Six

  “Are you okay, Sir?” His head whipped off the pillow, and he looked up to see a young sailor who’d just poked his head inside the door. “I heard shouting. I wasn’t sure if…”

  Yeah, if there was some kind of a nutcase in here.

  “Bad dream. I’m fine, but thanks for looking in.”

  The guy nodded uncertainly, “If you’re sure, Sir.”

  He closed the door and went away. Talley made a mental note to get to grips with the issues that were bugging him, one way or the other. He took an ice cold shower and dressed, then went to the operations room where Colonel Hakim was looking at a row of charts pinned to the wall.

  “Lieutenant Talley, I hope you slept well.”

  “I did, thank you, Sir.”

  Caitlin Walker was sitting at a computer close by. She looked up and gave him a cool nod, then went back to her screen.

  “There’s good news and bad news, Talley. This General Barre, we’ve got a definite fix on him, and we know where he stays when he’s in Mogadishu. The bad news is that he’s not there right now. He went south, towards the Kenyan border, ostensibly to inspect the coastal defenses. We suspect he’s meeting with one of the local warlords to arrange some kind of profitable activity, drugs, weapons, human trafficking; the usual thing. He’s due back in the city soon, so you have the evening to take some free time and tomorrow to prepare. Tomorrow evening, we’ll conduct a full scale briefing prior to your infiltrating Somalia and going into Mogadishu.”

  “How are we getting in, Sir?”

  “It has to be completely silent, so you’ll need to do it the old fashioned way. You were a Seal, I believe?”

  “That’s right, Sir.”

  “Good. You’ll be swimming in. We’ll use the high speed RIBs to get you offshore, and then you go in underwater. But we’ll go over all that in the morning. For now, you may as well take it easy and get some rest. The hostages are all back safely, by the way. They’re being kept separate from you and your men. We have to consider our security requirements.” He smiled. “We can’t keep those people incommunicado, especially after what they’ve been through. They’ll need to call home, talk to their families. We don’t want any information on your next mission leaking out.”

  “Loose lips sink ships.”

  They both looked around. Caitlin Walker had stood up and was standing behind them, staring at the charts.

  “Excuse me?”

  “It’s a saying, Sir.”

  “Yes, I’ve heard it before. Listen, Captain Walker, I have to complete the arrangements for tomorrow. There are one or two aspects of this mission that worry me. I believe Lieutenant Talley’s men could be biting off more than they can chew, so I’ve requested a second NATFOR unit be shipped in. My predecessor, Admiral Alexander, concurred; it’s more than one unit can handle.”

  “Another unit?” Talley stared at him. “We don’t need another unit. This operation calls for a small number of men to go in silently, do their job, and get out. Too many men could attract attention, make too much noise.”