OUTCAST Ops: African Firestorm

CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

The buzz of the radio on Bakir Riyad's belt cut into the Colonel's thoughts. The bridge of the freighter, a rusting and tired old ship acquired from a Bangladesh ship-breaking yard, was cramped and reeked from years of body odor, food, and the sea. He unclipped the radio from his belt and spoke into it. "Riyad here."

"Narsai, sir. Are you picking up a contact on your radar? We’re getting something, but it's intermittent."

Riyad turned toward the Saad el Melik's captain. "Check the radar.”

Kashgari studied the radar screen. At length, he nodded. "Radar contact. Aircraft, probably a helicopter. It's coming from the northwest."

Riyad frowned. "What is its course?"

"Roughly between us and the Northstar Venture."

"Where are the enemy warships?"

"Three are two hundred kilometers to the southeast, one a hundred kilometers to the north, and five three hundred and fifty kilometers to the east. They're— Wait!"

Kashgari's tone became more strident. "The three warships to the southeast have changed course, moving onto an intercept heading with the Northstar Venture! The helicopter has also altered direction toward the ship."

"Nationality?"

"American."

The colonel's frown became a scowl as he spoke into the transmitter. "Narsai, go to full alert and prepare to repel borders. We are increasing speed to come to your aid. Tell Dr. Masood to prepare the missiles for launch."

"That will take hours."

"Tell him to do it faster," Riyad growled. "The enemy is converging on you. Those missiles cannot be allowed to fall into enemy hands. Do you understand?"

"Yes sir," Narsai acquiesced. "Do you think it's the Iranians?"

Riyad thought back to the Yemeni guard in Eyl. "No. Just hold them off, Saleh. Do not surrender and do not let those missiles be taken."

Riyad broke the connection and opened his eyes wide at Kashgari. The air inside the bridge was heavy with tension. "We cannot catch up with them. Maintain course. How long to prepare the Termits for launch?"

In the role as Northstar's escort, the Saad el Melik carried a missile launcher and four P-15 Termits missiles. Designated by NATO as SS-N-2 Styx, the Termits were obsolete by today's standards of anti-ship missiles, but they were still powerful enough to sink a warship.

And the Northstar wasn't even a warship.

"An hour," Kashgari said.

"Begin preparations. If it looks like the Americans are taking the ship and the Baburs are not launched, we will sink the Northstar. How deep are the waters in this part of the ocean?"

The ship captain walked over to the chart table and stared it for a few seconds.

"We're in luck.” He motioned Riyad over. "We are still over the Somali Basin. The average depth is thirty-six hundred meters. If the Northstar sinks within the next six hours, the Americans will not be able to retrieve the warheads."

Riyad stared at the map for a few seconds, then nodded.

"Good. May Allah stay our hand and grant our brethren the strength to fire those missiles."

Saleh Narsai's emotional state was somewhere between fear, anger and determination. He put the satellite phone down and activated the ship's intercom.

"Attention, soldiers of Allah!" he began, his voice echoing throughout the ship. "Arm yourselves and prepare to repel infidel borders. Anti-aircraft teams: to your stations! Dr. Masood: report to the bridge at once!"

Narsai turned to the three men on the bridge. "Arm yourselves. The colonel is coming to our aid, but until then we are on our own."

"It's only one helicopter," Musa, who manned the helm, said.

"That is one helicopter too many," Narsai replied, anger creeping into his tone. "There are naval vessels coming in from the east. The helicopter is either out here to track us, or to land a special forces team on this ship to retake it."

Musa nodded. "Of course, Captain.”

"Hold current speed and heading," Narsai directed.

"What is going on?" Masood demanded as he stepped onto the bridge. His face was scrunched into a tapestry of wrinkles and worry lines.

"The infidels are tracking this ship," Narsai said. "Colonel Riyad has ordered you to prepare the missiles for launch."

Masood's eyes widened in shock. "That takes time!"

Narsai shot the Pakistani an ugly look. "Then you had better start, Doctor."

"I need to talk to—"

Narsai’s hand rested on the butt of his pistol. "You have your orders as I have mine. Prepare those missiles now."

Masood nodded and bolted off the bridge.

"Seas are getting rougher," Musa said. He glanced at a screen to his left. "Winds are picking up."

"That works in our favor." Narsai tried to ignore the shiver of fear sluicing down his back and the feeling that something bad was about to happen.