Hail Warning

Two Years Ago Caribbean Sea — Aboard the Nigerian Princess

It had all been planned down to the minute, or to be accurate, down to five minutes. Two days from now, between 10:00 and 10:05 a.m., Afua would fire the missile at any aircraft unfortunate enough to be departing from the Simón Bolívar International Airport, approximately 21 kilometers from downtown Caracas.

Currently, the missile was resting on the bottom of the Caribbean Sea. It had been just over twelve hours since the Nigerian Princess had been boarded and searched. That meant that the automated program that was running on the tiny computer inside the hermetically sealed case, should be activating at that exact moment. It would release a valve that would blow the water ballast. Being lighter than the water surrounding it, the case would slowly rise to the surface. A tracker beacon would start silently sending out pulses that could be detected and displayed on a screen in the wheelhouse. The case that held the missile and launcher did not have lights or any other method of locating it in the darkness. Victor Kornev had told Afua that if the case surfaced, and there were other boats in the vicinity, they did not want to give away the case’s location with lights or sound. It could only be found with the tracking device that had been given to Afua, which was now plugged into a screen using a DC outlet located in the Nigerian Princess’ wheelhouse.

Afua and Isaac watched the blank tracker screen. Isaac had made sure that the single green LED light in the upper corner of the unit was blinking, indicating the tracker was powered on and should be picking up anything it was designed to detect. A large green circle in the middle of the screen was the only other sign the tracker was operational.

Afua checked the time on the ship’s digital clock and looked back down at the tracker screen. More than five minutes had transpired since the case should have surfaced. If the case didn’t surface or they could not locate it, his mission would be over. Afua did not want to return to Nigeria without completing it. He knew that Iniabasi would be disappointed, resulting in Afua’s position in the group being summarily diminished. Afua didn’t know by what degree he would be demoted, but he assumed that he would never be afforded further opportunities within the organization. His family would suffer for his ineffectiveness. And, providing for his family had always been the only reason he was in the Boko Haram.

Another five minutes expired, and Afua was becoming very concerned. Now, instead of watching the inactive tracking device, he was staring at the ocean, scanning it, slowly moving his head from left to right. He repeated the action, over and over, as if he had developed some supernatural ability to spot something invisible to the naked eye on this moonless night.

A haze of light from the city of Caracas cast just enough ambient light to see the white tops of small waves as they quietly meandered across the endless ocean. There was a strong breeze coming in from the north and that worried Afua as well. Was it possible that the case had already surfaced and had been blown so far away from the Nigerian Princess that its tracker could no longer receive a signal? It was not hot in the wheelhouse, yet sweat was forming on Afua’s forehead. Isaac, on the other hand, was dry and calm. Afua understood that recovering the case, from Isaac’s perspective, was not nearly as important as it was to Afua. After all, success or no success, Isaac would simply return to Nigeria and assume his normal life — selling expensive homes to rich people and doing the Boko Haram’s bidding. It would not be Isaac’s fault if their mission failed. It would all be pinned on Afua.

The water was infuriatingly black, and Afua was on the verge of panic when he heard a small beep come from the tracker. Afua looked down at the screen, and an arrow appeared in the middle of the green circle. It was pointing toward the stern of their ship.

Isaac said, “It’s behind us.” He then read a digital display that had appeared in the right corner of the screen. He added, “It’s about sixty meters behind us.”

Without saying a word to Isaac, Afua left the wheelhouse, went down the stairs to the top deck and made his way toward the back of the ship. During that time, he had heard the engines come to life and could hear the anchor winch pulling in its heavy chain. As Afua reached the stern of the vessel, Isaac had already put the ship into reverse and was slowly tracking backwards towards the beacon.

The phone in Afua’s pocket rang, and he answered it.

Isaac said, “Let me know when you see the case so I can stop the engines.”

“OK,” Afua replied.

It didn’t take long, maybe only a minute or two, before the bright white triangular case bobbed over a wave and came into view.

“I see it,” Afua said into his phone. “Kill the engines, and I think we will float right up to it.”

A second later, the engine noise died, and Afua plucked a life saver pole from the deck’s gunwale. The long aluminum pole was used in emergencies to pull in a man who had fallen overboard, but could also be used to grab anything else

out of the ocean. Now, with the case floating just meters behind the Nigerian Princess, Afua used the pole to guide the case in closer to the ship. He was standing on the stern’s deck launch, a small strip of fiberglass that jutted out past the railing, resting less than a foot above the water. It was used as a platform to attach cables to the launch, and for swimmers to get on and off the yacht. Using this platform, Afua could simply kneel and grab the case from the water. He tossed the pole back up onto the deck and used his free hand to get a good grip on the slippery case. Leaning out over the water, and being careful not to fall in, Afua slid the case up onto the deck launch. He was surprised how heavy the package was even though it had pumped out all its water ballast from inside.

It was awkward trying to maintain balance while turning around and walking up the three stairs that led back up to the main deck. When he looked up, Isaac was there, holding out his hands, ready to receive the case from Afua. The jihadi handed Isaac the large awkward hull section and waited before releasing it, making sure that Isaac had a good grip on the slippery package.

Isaac pulled it up and held the case until Afua made his way up to the main deck. When he reached Isaac, Afua held out his hands and Isaac placed the hull section into his arms.

“Get the toolbox,” Afua commanded.

He placed the case down on the deck and ran through the mental check list of things Kornev had taught him. Before they could reattach the case to the underside of the little boat, the ballast tanks would need to be refilled. On one of the three sides of the triangular-shaped case, the side that would be attached to the underside of the boat, was a small cap that could be loosened with a large screwdriver.

Isaac arrived with a toolbox and set it down next to the case. Afua opened the toolbox, located the largest flathead screwdriver, and he placed its blade into the slot on the metal cap. Keeping in mind righty-tighty — lefty-loosey, Afua turned the screwdriver counterclockwise, and the cap began to loosen.

“I need the water hose,” Afua told Isaac.

Isaac left to retrieve the hose.

Since it was the middle of the night, Mrs. Obano was asleep in the master stateroom, but her husband still tried to make as little noise as possible. Afua didn’t know if that meant that his wife didn’t have any idea what they were up to, but he really didn’t care. Isaac’s wife was not his problem, unless she interfered with his mission. Only then would she become Afua’s problem, and he only knew one way to handle such problems.

Isaac arrived with a thin green hose. Clear water was running out one end. Afua placed the nozzle of the hose into the hole of the case and began to fill its

ballast tank. Other than connecting the middle hull back to the bottom of the little boat, that was all that was required. Kornev had indicated that the batteries that ran the small computer and pumps would have enough charge to complete at least three full cycles of submerging and resurfacing, so topping off water was the only maintenance item required. After the tank had been filled and Afua had screwed the cap on, the men wasted little time affixing the case back to the underside of the little boat. Since it was in the launch position, hanging out over the ocean, they first had to operate the hydraulic controls to pull the boat back in above the deck. To reconnect the hull, Afua laid down and scooted himself under the boat, dragging the case with him. Once he felt he was in the best position, Afua grabbed the case and pulled it onto his chest. There were no marks or any other method to align the case with the hooks on the hull of the boat. It was more of a trial and error process. Each time Afua believed he had the case in the correct position, he yelled up at Isaac to plug the pin into the dead man’s switch. The first time that he heard the craft’s two electronic latches engage, he eased up from pushing on the underside of the case, only to realize that the latches hadn’t found their catch. The full weight of the case came to rest back on Afua’s chest. He then lifted it again but this time he positioned it more forward. Again, he asked Isaac to plug in the pin. The second try didn’t work any better than the first try. On the third attempt, the latches finally caught and their work was done. Afua wiggled out from under the launch, and Isaac ran the hydraulic lift back out over the water. To keep it from swaying, the men tied down the boat the best they could. Everything was as it had been before, and they were prepared once again if the Nigerian Princess were searched. But now time had become an issue. Afua had been told his mission had to be carried out within a precise five-minute time frame, and that would not happen if the case was on the bottom of the ocean for another twelve hours. Afua understood that if they were boarded again, he would have no choice except to leave the case on the underside of the tender and hope it was not discovered. Or, he would have to fight. He had very little chance of winning an armed confrontation against an entire ship of Venezuelan soldiers, but then he had faced great odds his entire life, and he was used to being the underdog.