Poseidon's Arrow

37

PLUMERIA BLOSSOMS, MIXED WITH THE FAINT aroma of aviation fuel, filled the air as Pitt and Giordino exited the terminal at Honolulu International Airport. The bright sunshine and tropical breeze instantly washed away the fatigue of their twelve-hour flight from Washington. Giordino hailed a cab, and they hopped in for the short ride to Pearl Harbor.

The palm-lined streets brought back a flood of memories to Pitt. He had spent considerable time in the Hawaiian Islands during his first years with NUMA. It was here he had fallen in love with a radiant woman named Summer Moran. Though it had been decades since he had last seen her alive, her delicate face and sparkling eyes remained as clear to him as the sky overhead. The deceased mother of his two grown children, she lay buried in an ocean-view cemetery on the other side of the island.

Pitt shook away his recollections as they reached the entrance to the Navy base. A young ensign was waiting for them at the visitors’ gate and politely loaded their bags into a Jeep. He navigated onto the docks and pulled up next to a slab-sided vessel with a slim, round superstructure that looked like it had been lopped off with a sharp knife.

“What is it?” Giordino asked. “Some sort of car ferry on steroids?”

“You’re not far from the mark,” Pitt said. “The Fortitude’s design is based on a high-speed automobile ferry built by an Australian company.”

“Catamaran hull?” Giordino said, noting the ship’s rotund bow was supported by twin vertical hulls.

“Yes, and made of aluminum. The Fortitude is driven by water-jet propulsion. She’s part of the Military Sealift Command, and is designed to transport troops and equipment quickly. The Navy’s building a small fleet of them.”

As they retrieved their bags from the Jeep, a lantern-jawed man in fatigues approached them. “Mr. Pitt?”

“Yes, I’m Pitt.”

“Lieutenant Aaron Plugrad, Coast Guard Maritime Safety.” The man reached out and shook Pitt’s hand with an iron grip. “My men are already secured aboard the Fortitude. I’m told we can shove off at any time.”

“What’s the size of your team, Lieutenant?”

“I lead a squad of eight men, well trained to combat piracy operations. If there’s a hijacking attempt, we’ll stop it.”

Plugrad and his men came from a little-known command called the Coast Guard Deployable Operations Group. Essentially a SWAT team at sea, they were trained in counterterrorism, high-risk ship boardings, and explosives detection.

“One question for you, sir,” Plugrad said. “We received a crate from NUMA containing a dozen high-end Hazmat suits. We went ahead and loaded the crate aboard ship.”

“Those are for your men,” Pitt said. “Be sure each is issued a suit when we board the Adelaide. We have a theory that the potential assault may involve the use of a beefed-up microwave system similar to those developed by the Army for crowd control.”

“I’m familiar with that system,” Plugrad said. “We’ll take the necessary precautions.”

Pitt and Giordino boarded the sleek ship, where they were greeted by the Fortitude’s captain, a prematurely gray Navy commander named Jarrett. He led the NUMA men to the bridge, where he outlined their proposed course on a navigation monitor.

“We’ll be looking to rendezvous with the Adelaide here,” Jarrett said, stabbing a finger at an empty expanse of ocean southeast of the Hawaiian Islands. “It’s about eleven hundred miles from Oahu. We’ll zero in on the Adelaide’s course once we get closer, but we should catch her in less than twenty-four hours.”

“Twenty-four hours?” Giordino shook his head. “Do you have jet engines on this thing?”

“No, just four big turbocharged diesels. On a good day, we can run close to forty-five knots. Since we are carrying a light load, we should be able to sail close to that speed.”

“Why fly and miss out on a nice sea breeze?” Giordino said.

“That’s what the Fortitude was designed for. We can transfer a battalion of men across the Atlantic in two days.” Jarrett eyed a nearby chronograph. “If you gentlemen have no objection, we’ll get under way.”

The Fortitude’s diesels started with a rumble. The lines were cast, and the three-hundred-and-thirty-eight-foot ship maneuvered out the narrow entrance of Pearl Harbor and turned southeast. It cruised past Waikiki and the towering face of Diamond Head before cranking up speed. The brick-shaped ship accelerated quickly, rising up on its sharp catamaran hulls. The seas were calm, allowing Jarrett to run at nearly full out. Pitt watched the navigation monitor in awe as the vessel easily eclipsed the forty-knot mark.

In a few hours, the last of the Hawaiian Islands disappeared off the stern horizon as they raced into an empty expanse of the Pacific. Pitt and Giordino joined Plugrad and his team on deck, sharing insights on what they might encounter, as they reviewed defensive boarding measures. After dining in the ship’s cavernous mess hall, they turned in for the night.

Pitt detected the Fortitude’s engines slowing later the next morning while he was exploring the hold with Giordino. The two men climbed to the bridge, where they spotted the Adelaide a mile off the bow.

She was a dry bulk carrier, six hundred feet long, sporting a forest green hull and a gold superstructure. A black-stained funnel and rust around her hawsehole indicated a seasoned career, but she otherwise looked well cared for. She cut through the waves low to the surface, her five holds filled to their hatch covers.

“Her captain has acknowledged our arrival and is prepared to take you on board,” Jarrett reported.

“Thanks for the quick run, Captain,” Pitt said. “You have a gem of a vessel.”

“Sure you boys can’t stick around?” Giordino asked Jarrett. “If the Adelaide’s a dry boat, I may need you to make a beer run.”

“Sorry, but we’re due stateside in thirty-six hours.” Jarrett shook hands with both men. “I’ve ordered our launch deployed for you. Good luck and safe travels.”

Plugrad had his Coast Guard contingent assembled when Pitt and Giordino reached the deck. They climbed into a covered launch and were piloted to the freighter, where an accommodation ladder had been lowered along the Adelaide’s flank. Plugrad’s men leaped onto the platform and bounded up the ladder, seemingly oblivious to the weapons and sixty-pound packs they carried. Pitt waved to the launch’s pilot as he stepped off it and followed Giordino up the ladder.

A dour pair of crewmen in ill-fitting jumpsuits and black boots met them on the deck. “Your quarters are this way,” one of them said, motioning toward the stern superstructure. “The captain will meet with you in twenty minutes in the ship’s mess.”

The two crewmen led the party aft as the Adelaide’s engines rumbled to higher revolutions and the big ship resumed speed. As they were led to their berths on the second level of the superstructure, Giordino glanced back at the Fortitude speeding off to the northeast and he suddenly felt thirsty for a beer.