Splinter Cell

33

I’m not happy.

My daughter is in jeopardy and needs me. I’m up against a mad religious fanatic who finances terrorism and is intent on causing some kind of mass destruction. I’m on a British military base on an island in the Mediterranean, and I have to perform a job I don’t particularly feel like doing. I’ll be the first to admit I’m distracted. For me the first priority is to go find Sarah. For my country the first priority is to stop the mad religious fanatic. The only thing I can hope for is that I finish the country’s assignment in record time so I can tackle the personal one as soon as possible.

Cyprus. It’s a beautiful place, but it’s rife with tension. Back in 1963 some British officer drew a green line across the island’s map when violence broke out between the Greek and Turkish Cypriots. The United Nations tried to keep the peace along what has since been referred to as — surprise — the “Green Line.” Then, in 1974, the Greek government attempted a coup, and the Turks responded by invading and occupying the area north of the Green Line. Today, the United Nations recognizes only the Greek Cypriot side, the Republic of Cyprus. The so-called Turkish Republic of Northern Cyprus is not recognized by any nation other than Turkey. It’s a situation that has provoked a great deal of mistrust and conflict ever since.

Britain maintains important military bases in the southern portion of the island. In fact, the British Sovereign Base Areas cover about three percent of the island’s land. The Royal Air Force occupies the Western Sovereign Base Area in the Episkopi Garrison and the Akrotiri airfield. I’m over on the eastern side, in the Dhekelia Garrison. Because Cyprus was once a British crown colony, these areas remained under the UK’s jurisdiction when the Treaty of Establishment created the independent Republic of Cyprus in 1960.

The army presence at Dhekelia consists of sixty-two Cyprus Support Squadron Royal Engineers and sixteen Flight Army Air Corps (equipped with Gazelle helicopters). There are also a variety of supporting arms such as the Royal Logistics Corps, Royal Army Medical Corps, Royal Electrical and Mechanical Engineers, Royal Military Police and others located in both Sovereign Base Areas. Dhekelia, also known as a “cantonment,” is home to a total British population of just over 2,000 people.

It seems to me to be a fairly cushy assignment for the Brit soldiers. Dhekelia is on the northern shore of the wide sweeping Larnaca Bay and is situated some 15km northeast of the important coastal town of Larnaca and 20km west of Ayia Napa, the premier tourist resort for the club music scene in the Eastern Mediterranean. Dhekelia Cantonment has an abundance of sporting and recreational facilities, with the emphasis, naturally, on water sports. When I arrived by military transport, I could see some die-hard skiers in the bay getting in some last-minute thrills before sunset.

Captain Peter Martin, a proper British soldier in his thirties, escorts me to the mess, where I am fed a fine meal of roast chicken, mashed potatoes, and asparagus. A good Western meal would hit the spot and I’m starving. Captain Martin sits and briefs me on his orders and how he plans to proceed in helping me.

“I’m to take you out in a boat after nightfall,” he says. “We’ll sail around Cape Pyle and Cape Gkreko and then turn north up the coast. After three miles or so I’ll stop and let you out. You’ll swim another half-mile or so underwater to the Famagusta harbor, where you’ll go ashore and make your way to the shopping mall site. Once you’re out of the boat, we have no knowledge of your being anywhere near Cyprus. You’ll have to make your way back across the border by sea. I’ll give you my mobile number. When you’re ashore I’ll come and collect you. If I don’t hear from you, then I’ll have to assume that you’ve either found another way off the island or that you’re dead. Is that clear?”

“Clear and very blunt,” I answer.

“We’ll fit you with some SCUBA gear. We can’t give you the best stuff; we need that for our own men. It will be spare equipment, fairly old, but I assure you that it’s in good working condition. If you’re able to bring it back, we would appreciate it. If not, don’t worry about it.”

“Thank you for that,” I say, swallowing my last bite of chicken. “As long as the tanks are full.”

“I guarantee that you’ll have the same quality air that we do,” the captain says, smiling.

“What do you know about the shopping mall? Surely you’ve done some recon on the site?” I ask.

“We have indeed and I can honestly tell you that it looks completely legit. They’ve been working on it for three years, and not once have we seen anything remotely suspicious.”

I have nothing to say to that. I find it difficult to believe that Tarighian is really building a shopping mall for Turkish Cypriots when he devotes the rest of his energy financing the Shadows’ directives to kill and maim as many non-Muslims as they can.

After dinner Captain Martin takes me to the army’s diving club, which overlooks gorgeous Larnaca Bay. I ask the captain if Cyprus is good for tourism, and he tells me that it’s a fabulous vacation spot. When the Greek and Turkish Cypriots behave themselves, Cyprus is a fantastic island paradise.

“Actually the Turkish side of the island is even prettier,” he says. “Mostly Turks and people from other Muslim countries visit the north. Everyone else comes to the south.”

Captain Martin gives me a single tank, an MK2Plus regulator, a Glide 500 buoyancy compensator device, a Smart-Pro wrist computer, Twin Speed adjustable fins, a standard weight belt, and a frameless face mask. Everything fits nicely over my uniform, which will keep me warm enough, but I’ll have to fasten the Osprey on my chest. Martin also gives me a small Diver Propulsion Device — a portable hand-held mechanism that propels a diver by dragging him through the water. This saves the diver’s strength. I’m ready to go, but first I need to check in with Lambert.

I try my implant first. “Colonel, are you there?”

“I’m here, Sam. I take it you’re in Cyprus?”

“Roger that. Everything’s proceeding according to plan. They’re treating me well.”

“Glad to hear it.”

“What have you found out about Sarah, Colonel?”

“Sam, we’re doing everything we can to find her. Listen to me, now. You’ve got to let us handle this. There’s still a good forty-eight hours or more before they expect you to be in Jerusalem. We have a lead on a suspect, and we’re following up on that.”

This is good news. “Who is it?”

“Sam, it’s a bit premature—”

“Goddamn it, Colonel, this is my daughter we’re talking about.” Needless to say, I’m a little pissed off. “If you want me to keep my mind off her and on this job here, then you’d better tell me everything you know.”

“Right, Sam. I’m sorry. There’s this boyfriend. Do you know about him?”

I have to think to remember his name. “A boy from Israel, isn’t he?”

“Yes. Name of Eli Horowitz.”

“That’s him. Yeah, I remember Sarah mentioning him. What about him? Is he the suspect?”

“She made plans to meet up with him in Jerusalem. We checked him out, and we learned that he was deported from the U.S. last year for an expired student visa. And for being on a terrorist watch list.”

“Oh, shit,” I say. I don’t care who hears me.

“We’re trying to find him as we speak. We’ve got people in Jerusalem hunting him down right now.”

“What about Sarah’s friend? The one she went with to Israel… what’s her name? Rivka.”

I hear Lambert sigh. When he does this, I know I’m not going to like what he has to say. “Sam, Rivka Cohen’s dead. She was found in an alley in East Jerusalem, strangled to death.”

“Oh, for God’s sake, Colonel!” I’m losing my mind here. I want to pick up something and smash it to pieces. “I can’t be here, Colonel. I’ve got to go to Israel now.”

“Sam, you don’t have the resources that we do. Believe me, we’re in a better position to find Sarah than you are.”

“It’s me they want, Colonel. My daughter is just the bait.”

“That’s exactly why I can’t let you go yet. Please, Sam. You have a job to do there, and we need you to do it. I know this sounds horrible, but you’ve got to forget about her for now.”

I suck in a breath and say, “All right, Colonel. I’ll do your little errand tonight, but come tomorrow morning I’m going to Israel — no matter where I am or what I’m doing. I’m picking up and leaving this fucking island, and I’m going to find my daughter. Do I make myself clear?”

I can’t believe I just spoke to my commanding officer that way. But then again, I don’t hold a military rank. Colonel Lambert is really just my supervisor and I’m his employee. It’s not the same thing.

“I understand, Sam,” Lambert says. “I don’t blame you.”

That calms me down a bit. “Thanks, Colonel. Sorry. I, er, got a little carried away.”

“Don’t worry about it. Just do what you have to do tonight and let us know what you find out.”

We sign off and I look out the window at the bay. The sunset casts a bloodred spill over the choppy surface, and I wonder if that means anything.

At ten o’clock, well after dark, we board what’s called a Rigid Raider — a fast patrol craft with a fiberglass reinforced plastic hull and a single 140-horsepower outboard motor. It’s normally used to patrol harbors and inland waterways. The thing holds about eight or nine guys, and the captain tells me there’s an even larger version of the Rigid Raider that holds up to twenty men. On this particular voyage a pilot and a private join the captain and me. From what I can tell, they know nothing about my mission. I imagine they’re just following the captain’s orders.

The pilot keeps the speed down so as not to attract too much attention. It’s not uncommon to see these patrol boats at all times of the day or night, but I figure they think it’s best that we keep a low profile. The boat moves along past Cape Pyle and then around the easternmost tip, Cape Gkreko. The water seems choppier here, and the captain tells me that there are strong currents on this side of the island. He wants to get me as close as possible to the Green Line because it’s going to be a strenuous swim.

I can see the lights of Famagusta from here. The captain tells me to get ready and he helps me with the BCD and tank. The pilot turns off all the lights on the boat and cuts the engine down to a quiet putter.

“This is your stop,” the captain says. He holds out his hand and I shake it.

“Thanks for everything,” I say.

“Thank me when I pick you up in the morning.” He doesn’t say if he picks me up in the morning.

I put on the fins, lower the face mask, secure the SC- 20K on my back, and I’m good to go. I climb over the side while holding on to the ladder, insert the regulator into my mouth, hold on to the DPD, and dive backward into the cold, dark water.