Assurred Response

Chapter 15

Located directly on the Houston ship channel, the massive 250-acre refinery had deepwater access for off-loading heavy, sweet crude oils. Extra security personnel were in place inside the busy facility, while members of the Texas National Guard patrolled the perimeter of the refinery.

Moored in forty feet of water alongside the ship channel frontage, the 1,112-foot Gulf Courier was in the process of off-loading her crude oil. Owned by Saeed Shayhidi, the behemoth supertanker carried 74 million gallons of oil.

Rain was coming down in sheets at 9:17 P. M. when six hand-picked members of SEAL Team Four approached the Gulf Courier. Wearing the LAR V rebreathing apparatus that allows them to swim underwater without leaving surface air bubbles, the divers carried satchels of high explosives. Only the team leader raised his eyes above water to take a final bearing on the ship before the six submerged to a deeper depth. Minutes later, they reached the stern of their target.

The men attached most of their specially prepared explosives to the rudder of the tanker. Working in total darkness, they hooked the other explosives to one of the massive propeller blades. The charges were designed to destroy the rudder and propeller without penetrating the ships hull. They set a timer that was connected to both packages. It would allow them thirty-five minutes to return to their entry point, board their innocent-looking thirty-two-foot fishing boat, and be miles away when the charges detonated.

Two U. S. Army AH-64 Apache Longbow multimission combat helicopters were circling the Houston refinery, one at 900 feet and the other at 1,500 feet. The two-man crews from the 1-227th Attack Battalion stationed at Fort Hood, Texas, were responsible for protecting the facility from ground or air attacks.

The veteran aviators had been secretly briefed about the SEAL operation. Along with the members of the Texas National Guard, the flight crews knew the approximate time the 4 event" would happen.

Gulf Courier was finished off-loading when the quiet evening was shattered by a huge blast of water shooting straight into the air. Small waves rippled across the ship channel while security personnel hurried toward the tanker.

In the water before 10:30 P. M., scuba divers with powerful underwater lights discovered the extensive damage done to the Gulf Courier. The huge rudder was almost twisted from the shaft connecting it to the ship, and one propeller blade was lying on the bottom of the channel.

The supertanker would have to be towed to a dry dock large enough to accommodate a ship of her size. Unfortunately for Shayhidi, there was not an abundance of those facilities available. In addition, shipyard work of this magnitude generally needed to be scheduled well in advance. Another of Shayhidis revenue spigots was now turned off. The money-draining liability would be idle for an extended period of time.

After a great dinner and a relaxing drive to Idaho Falls and back, Scott and Jackie were turning into the Best Western motel when the satellite phone rang. Jackie answered the call. From the sound of the conversation, Scott could tell it was Frank Wakefield. She told the special agent about the sabotaged helicopter, the subsequent crash landing, and the Cessna Caravan floatplane.

When she hung up, Scott reached for the door handle. "Farkas?"

"Yes. He was in the shack next to the hangar," she said, and opened her car door. "Let's go inside and I'll fill you in on the details."

"Sounds good." Scott picked up the fresh botde of Merlot on the seat and followed her to their room. He shut the door and headed toward the bathroom. "I'll get the wine glasses."

They kicked off their shoes, pulled two straight-back chairs up to the bed, and propped their feet on the bedspread.

Jackie reached for a pillow and shoved it behind her back. "Following the raid on the hangar compound, Wakefield conducted an interview with the charming couple. When they began hedging their answers, he showed them a picture of Farkas. The couple identified him as the person who negotiated the hangar deal and ran the show."

"Did Wakefield tell them who Farkas is?"

"Yes, and after they came out of shock they were singing their hearts out. They thought Farkas was just an eccentric, wealthy recluse who restored old warbirds."

Jackie glanced at Scott. "Farkas and his crew, the two who worked on our LongRanger, had one heck of an operation going and two unwitting stooges for cover."

"Did they acknowledge the presence of a B-25 bomber?"

She smiled and stretched her long, shapely legs like a contented cat. "Oh, yes. And Farkas was flying the plane by himself."

"I don t suppose they knew where he was going?"

"No, but they did mention the two mechanics and their Ford pickup and the fact that they disappeared shortly after Farkas departed."

Scott rolled his head toward Jackie. "Any chance they remembered anything about the bomber, paint scheme, numbers, et cetera?"

She smiled serenely. "What do you think?"

"I know, a stupid question."

"At any rate, the good news is we know who we're dealing with and we flushed Farkas out of his base of operation."

Scott looked at her from the corner of his eye. "Ah, we just happened to stumble over it, not like we solved some age-old mystery."

"Hey, I'll take a win any way we can get it."

Scott reached for the remote and turned on the television. "What's Wakefield going to do about Farkas?"

"He said the FBI and local law-enforcement agencies are going to search every airport west of a line from Chicago to New Orleans. He said the Washington brass — read Jim Ebersole — put a major priority on finding the bomber and Farkas, like right now."

"Did he have any advice for us?"

"No, but he wants an update if we discover anything else of interest."

"Well," Scott said, "I think we follow our instincts, see what happens."

"I'm with you."

He thought for a moment. "I dont think Farkas went very far. The bomber would attract too much interest, especially when so many people are looking for it."

"Yeah, he has to have a hangar not too far from here."

"Or the bomber could be camouflaged," Scott replied. Their conversation came to a halt when a breaking-news logo appeared on the television screen. Seconds later, a tired Pentagon correspondent faced the camera. The anchor welcomed her.

Christine.

Bob, senior Pentagon officials and a spokesperson for the ATF have confirmed new intelligence that indicates Islamic terrorists have smuggled surface-to-air missiles into the United States. The weapons have been identified as shoulder-fired antiaircraft missiles. They are believed to be Russian-made SA-7S with a range of approximately three miles. Our experts tell us they can hit aircraft flying as high as thirteen thousand five hundred feet.

The other missiles are reported to be U. S.-made Stingers with a range of five miles and the ability to destroy aircraft up to ten thousand feet. The missiles, approximately four hundred of them, were obtained covertly in Afghanistan and Pakistan, said a senior Pentagon official, who spoke on condition of anonymity.

She glanced at her notes.

The missiles, which Im told are fairly lightweight, are easy to obtain on what the official called the gray market. According to our source, a senior al-Qaeda commander has admitted the missiles were sent to the United States in shipping containers from Hong Kong and Shanghai. As of now, the port or ports of arrival are still classified and the hunt for the missiles continues. Bob.

Thank you, Christine. In related news, U. S. customs inspectors found three Iranian and two Saudi Arabian stowaways inside a shipping container at the port of Charleston, South Carolina, today. The stowaways had thin foam-rubber mats to sleep on, food, water, a makeshift toilet, counterfeit documentation, and seven AK-47 assault rifles. They have been taken into custody for questioning.

Scott hit the mute button. "That's comforting news. Hundreds of portable surface-to-air missiles inside our country, and we don't have a clue where they are."

Jackie's gaze was fixed on the silent television. "Well, if we don't find the missing nukes, we're gonna have bigger problems than the SAMS."

Two hours before sunrise, a Lockheed C-5B Galaxy slowly descended out of low gloomy clouds on an instrument approach. With the glaring landing lights on, the U. S. Air Force strategic airlift transport looked like a huge prehistoric archaeopteryx, a flying reptile from the Jurassic period. The "aluminum overcast" came to earth in a surprisingly soft touchdown on its sturdy twenty-eight-wheel landing gear. The aircraft rolled most of the way down the runway while the aircraft commander spared the brakes and tires.

After the Galaxy taxied to a remote area at the home of Headquarters, U. S. Air Forces in Europe, members of the 1st Special Forces Operational Detachment Delta, or Delta Force, met the transport plane. The Delta Force contingent had arrived on a C-17A Globemaster only minutes before the Galaxy landed.

Stationed in a secluded site at Fort Bragg, North Carolina, the 1st SFOD-Delta is made up of recruits from the U. S. Army's Special Forces Green Berets and Rangers. Delta Force is one of the Federal Government's CT, or counterterrorist, groups and performs a wide variety of covert missions, including hostage rescue, seizure and retrieval of hostile personnel, and direct action.

When the C-5BS huge nose was fully open, the soldiers from Delta Force greeted the helicopter pilots and support personnel from the army's 160th Special Operations Aviation Regiment (SOAR). Along with the helicopters inside the Galaxy, additional helicopters from the 160th Nightstalkers had arrived earlier that morning.

Based at Fort Campbell, Kentucky, and Hunter Army Airfield, Savannah, Georgia, the 160th uses specially modified helicopters and skilled pilots to fly special warfare teams to the mission through inclement weather or hostile environments, day or night.

The Nightstalkers fly the versatile MH-60K/L Blackhawk, the AH-6 Little Bird, and the MH-47D/E Chinook tailored for clandestine operations. Classified as medium transport helicopters, the big Chinooks are configured for in-flight refueling, thermal/night imaging, and crew armor, and they are equipped with 7.62mm Gatling miniguns.

For the upcoming classified operations in Switzerland, the SOAR unit was using six handpicked pilots from its "black" battalion. Other select teams of special operations forces and Nightstalker aviators were working together in France and Spain.

Commander Art Schweitzer and his executive officer had officially identified the cargo ship Stephanie Eaton shortly after sunrise. They tracked the civilian vessel for fifty minutes before reaching a spot where there were no other ships on the horizon. The CO gave the order, and the Mark 48 was soon en route to its target.

After Schweitzer fired the torpedo, he watched the Stephanie Eaton and photographed the horrific detonation. Blackish-red smoke and water shot skyward, and the stricken ship immediately began slowing. Schweitzer snapped several more photographs.

Less than three minutes later, the crew of fourteen began abandoning their ship. When the lifeboats were clear of Stephanie Eaton, the attack submarine descended to 200 feet to wait for the cargo carrier to sink and break up.

Nearly an hour later, after sonar detected other ships in the vicinity, Schweitzer became impatient and gave the order to come to periscope depth. Two ships, one a large containership and the other a small freighter, had come to the aid of the torpedoed crew.

Stephanie Eaton was still afloat. Schweitzer was sorry he had not fired a second Mark 48 after the crew cleared the vessel. As he was silently cursing his situation, a secondary explosion blew a gaping hole in the side of the ship. Schweitzer ordered Montpelier to again level at 200 feet.

A few minutes later, the sonar operator detected the sounds of a ship breaking apart. Another Saeed Shayhidi asset was descending to the bottom of the Atlantic.

Montpelier turned on course to her home port at Norfolk Naval Base, Virginia, the largest naval installation in the world. The mood aboard the submarine was unusually subdued. The men were not proud of sinking unarmed civilian ships, but they carried out their orders without question.

Overlooking the Bernese Alps, the magnificent Grand Hotel Park stands alone on a quiet hill only moments away from world-class alpine skiing and a charming village center. The Swiss Forest-style resort hotel has an interior dominated by natural stone, solid wood, and ceramic tiles.

The Grand was playing host to a large group of Hollywood celebrities, including movie stars, well-known producers and directors, and a handful of top-tier agents. In addition to its glitzy guests, the world-famous resort had another celebrity in residence. However, Saeed Shayhidi was not seen at Le Grand Restaurant or Le Salon Montgomery hobnobbing with the elites from the American film industry.

Sitting morosely in his two-bedroom suite with a trusted aide and two heavily armed bodyguards, Shayhidi was riding an emotional roller coaster. One moment he was hostile and illogical, the next moment paranoid, sullen, and withdrawn. He would go through a calm period for an hour or so and then repeat the cycle.

The loss of his prestigious Boeing corporate jet and the sinking of his yacht had had an adverse effect on Shayhidi. He had become extremely nervous and sometimes paced the floor, no longer the confident, assured international businessman.

The terrorist leader was clearly the person now being terrorized. The feeling was one of agonizing fear and total hopelessness. With no avenue to buy his way out of his predicament, the hefty fortune he inherited and continued to build was useless to him. He was trapped by his own arrogant cleverness and his feeling of intellectual superiority.

Both mentally and financially, Shayhidi was relentlessly and methodically being destroyed by the United States. His assets were being used against him and his freedom had been taken away. He was a hunted man; his life was in ruins. The irony did not escape him. It was a maddening, horrible feeling to have to live like a caged animal.

The familiar Fox logo suddenly flashed on his TV with more breaking news about the jihad against America, accompanied by a recent photo of Shayhidi.

Shayhidi stared intensely at the screen; an attractive, unsmiling woman looked up from her notes.

Fox has learned that financier and reputed terrorist leader Saeed Shayhidi, believed to be the mastermind behind the deadly attacks on the United States, has himself become a target.

Shayhidi froze in his chair, starring at video footage of one of his containerships sinking in the Pacific. An uncontrollable, panicky feeling swept over him, and he shuddered momentarily.

State Department officials have confirmed that Shayhidis ship, shown here in this amateur video taken from another cargo ship, was destroyed by an unknown source. The entire crew was safely rescued and the accident is under investigation.

"It wasn't an accident!" Shayhidi blurted through clenched teeth. "Macklin had it blown up — He's trying to destroy me!"

In addition, Shayhidi's yacht reportedly sunk in the Mediterranean Sea off the coast of southern France after an onboard explosion.

"Liars, liars!" Shayhidi shouted at the television. "You filthy bastards are going to pay for this! Macklin is going to pay! The American people are going to pay!"

Were receiving initial reports of other Shayhidi-related news from our White House correspondent, Wesley Herman. Wes.

Sharon, senior White House sources have told Fox that two of Shayhidis cargo ships have mysteriously disappeared, believed to have sunk in the Atlantic during the last day or two. A senior administration spokesman denied the U. S. military had any involvement in the incidents. He pointed out that Mr. Shayhidi has made dozens of enemies all over the world.

Shayhidi's eyes bugged out, and he hurled an empty ashtray at the television, barely missing the screen and impacting the wall. "Macklin, you're dead! As good as dead!"

His aide and the two bodyguards exchanged concerned glances. How long would it be before their boss snapped?

"They will pay — he will pay!" Shayhidi yelled at the top of his lungs. "Macklin has underestimated me!"

The seasoned correspondent continued in his clipped manner.

Mysteriously, two other vessels belonging to the shipping magnate, both believed to be petroleum tankers, suffered serious mechanical failures while in port. They are reported to be inoperable, one at a Houston refinery and the other at the port of Valdez, Alaska. Sharon.

Shayhidi leaped out of his chair and kicked the television screen in, cutting his leg in the process.

"They are going to pay," he bellowed. "Send an e-mail to Farkas. I'm changing the plans. Macklin has to pay for this! The American military has to pay for this. The American people have to pay!"

The aide attempted to reason with him. "Mr. Shayhidi, I don't think you should jeopardize your—"

"Get in touch with Farkas or get out of my sight, forever!" The adviser cast his dark eyes down. "Yes, sir, I'll contact him."

"Now!"

"Yes, sir."

Ashen-faced and shaking, Shayhidi turned to his two bodyguards. "We're leaving — going to Saint Moritz."

They nodded silendy.

"Macklin is going to pay!"

The E-4B was humming at 4:35 A. M. Pacific Coast Time when Hartwell Prost received the CIA briefing from Langley, Virginia. The president and his advisers had retired early in the evening during a lull in the events. Refreshed and relaxed after a light breakfast, Prost checked his wristwatch and closed his leather folder. It was time to bring President Macklin and his closest advisers up to date on world events.

Prost entered the E-4B s conference room, chatted with an aide, and turned to greet Macklin. "Good morning, Mr. President."

"Morning, Hartwell."

Prost hesitated when Pete Adair and General Chalmers walked in and sat down. After exchanging pleasantries, Prost began his summary. "We have disabled two more of Shayhidis tankers, the Gulf Trader in the Corpus Christi ship channel and the Gulf Patriot at a California terminal. Dont have the details yet."

"Great," Macklin said energetically. "Who gets the credit?"

"SEAL Teams Three and Five. Were just now getting confirmation and a situation report on the Corpus Christi mission."

"How about those guys." The president smiled. "As we expected, a professional job." He looked at Chalmers. "See to it that they receive my personal thanks for a job well done."

"Will do," Chalmers said, with a slight nod.

A senior military aide entered the room and spoke quietly to the national security adviser. Prost thanked the army colonel and faced the group. "More good news, gentlemen. Shayhidi can chalk up another containership loss. The Cape Moundville had a fender bender with a torpedo from Charlotte about fifteen minutes ago. Her crew is safe, but the ship is on her way to the bottom of the South Pacific."

Macklin methodically added the latest information to his growing list of Shayhidi's assets that had been destroyed. "Let's keep the pressure on him — even intensify it, if we can do so safely."

"Yes, sir," Prost said, with a feeling of satisfaction. "We have a number of things in the planning stage."

"Good," the president declared. "No matter where he's hiding, Shayhidi has to know by now what's happening to his fleet."

"And to his fortune," Prost quietly added, slipping his briefing page under a synopsis from U. S. Central Command headquarters at MacDill AFB, Florida. "On a different but familiar topic: the Middle East."

"What now?" Macklin said, half question, half recognition.

Prost cleared his throat. "Since were immersed in stabilizing Iraq, other factions have decided to take some unusually aggressive stabs at us."

The presidents eyes hardened. "Lets have it."

"During the past nine hours, multiple surface-to-air missiles and antiaircraft artillery have downed two drones over the Middle East. Both were Predators conducting surveillance."

"Where, exactly?"

"One was over Iran; the other was over western Afghanistan. During the last few days they've taken dozens of shots at us from a variety of locations throughout the region. It's as if they're taunting us, daring us to engage them."

"Have we lost any manned aircraft?"

"No, sir, but an F-16 was damaged over northern Iran two hours ago. That SAm site no longer exists." Hartwell reached for his coffee cup. "One of the pockets of resistance in Afghanistan damaged a British jet, but the pilot, who was seriously injured, nursed it back to base."

Macklin turned to Adair. "Pete, I don't care where these antiaircraft sites are located. I want random retaliatory strikes at all sites that fire, or have fired, on coalition aircraft. If the site is near a military airfield, destroy the runways and hangars. Flatten the place."

"Yes, sir."

"Stagger the raids round the clock. Keep them on guard day and night and hit them hard; really do it big."

"Will do." Adair glanced at General Chalmers and then looked the president in the eye. "We'll start by pounding their air defense sites with Tomahawks and fighters, including carrier-based assets. If the sites are close to a military airfield, we ll use B-52S and B-1s to carpet-bomb the bases."

"That should be a good start."

Chalmers spoke up. "I recommend we use a combination of manned and unmanned aircraft to keep the pressure on, potential strike packages and recon assets constantly overhead."

"That's up to you," Macklin said evenly. "Just make sure each manned strike package has more than adequate support aircraft and SAR helos to retrieve any crew members who might get shot down."

"You can count on it," Adair said firmly. "We cant afford to have anyone captured."

The president frowned. "Yeah, we've been damn lucky."

Adair turned to Chalmers. "I'd like to coordinate all our mission planning with the British."

"I'll see to it," Chalmers said to Adair and Macklin. "We need to concentrate on air defense sites from all quadrants. Washington just arrived in the Gulf this afternoon. We'll take advantage of her air wing plus their combat rescue capability."

"Les, handle it any way you and Pete want to, but keep the pressure on. Don't give anyone time even to use the latrine."

"Yes, sir," Chalmers said, anxious to set his plans in motion. "We'll keep them at the ready day and night."

Macklin leaned back in his chair and faced Prost. "The word is out on Shayhidi's assets going south. Every leader in the Gulf region wants to talk to us. They know we're behind this operation; we can't hold them off much longer."

"I'm aware of that, sir."

"Where are we on the Brad Austin situation?"

"He has accepted the position."

"Outstanding, glad to hear it."

"Sir, I took the liberty of asking him to meet us at Dyess so we can brief him. All you have to do now is sign the order."

"Consider it done."

"Yes, sir." Prost paused for a moment. "Austin will be a strong addition to your team."

"I have every confidence — want him headed to the Persian Gulf as soon as practical."

"New subject?" Prost asked.

"Sure, what s up?"

"Speaking of the British, we could sure use their help if you approve of my suggestion."

A faint smile creased the president s face. "At this stage, I'm open to almost anything, almost anything."

Prosts voice was emotionless. "Consider it a diplomatic gesture to a true and trusted ally."