The Emerald Scepter

CHAPTER FIFTY-SEVEN

Though Hawkins was painfully aware that the gang of misfits at his command was no SEAL Team Six, he could not have been prouder, or more amazed, at the way they had come together in Afghanistan. But for all his brave talk about secret weapons, he knew that the rescue attempt needed the skills of an elite counter-terrorism team versed in the refined elements of assault, like the group that took down Bin laden.

Marzak was a ruthless and experienced opponent and the fact that he had a hostage complicated things exponentially. Cait would be caught between competing forces. Luck simply could not be part of the equation. Nor could blunt force.

Hawkins had designed dozens of SEAL missions. Some had succeeded. Some hadn’t. But every one of them was a work of art as well as an exercise in military science. He knew that a successful mission had to be a combination of desperate creativeness and painstaking planning.

“We’re going by the book,” Hawkins said. “First, Molly,” he turned to Sutherland, who was munching on her second blueberry muffin, “you’re intel. We’ll need an instant summary of everything there is to know about the Kurtz yacht.”

“I’ve already got a folder in my Prester John file.”

“Good. Narrow it down to what we need.”

Sutherland stuffed her mouth full of muffin and booted up her computer.

“Next, operational strategy. It has to be delicate. I’ve—”

Abby cut him off. “C’mon, Matt. You’re stating the obvious. We’re all very aware that we can’t bomb the crap out of the target and then send in the marines. The objective is simple. Get in. Neutralize Marzak. Save Cait. Get out.”

“That’s about right, Abby.” Hawkins silently cursed the insanity that had persuaded him to reunite with his ex-wife. “But if you’ll let me continue, I’ve already ruled out dropping in by fast-rope.”

“Not fast enough,” Calvin said. “Marzak would have too much warning.”

Hawkins said, “A land assault would be limited as well. Not enough options. My guess is that, no matter how I come at him, Marzak will use Cait to draw me in where he’ll have something nasty planned.”

Sutherland had been listening with one ear. Not taking her eyes off the screen, she said, “Here’s the CV on the yacht. Steel-hulled, built by Camper and Nicholson boatyard back in 1919. One of their early diesels, switching over from steam engines. It was a hundred-forty-five feet long. Here’s a photo.”

The computer screen showed a white yacht with a single smokestack, three decks and the almost straight-up-and-down bow typical of ships of its day. There were several photos of the luxurious interior, with its classic salon and spacious stateroom.

“How did the yacht get to Maryland?” he asked.

“After Hiram died his family sold it. It was used as a cruise boat on the Chesapeake, then went to a buyer who gutted the interior and turned the yacht into a waterside restaurant. The owner went bankrupt, the restaurant closed and it went into real estate trust. This picture shows the yacht in 1979.”

“Ouch,” Calvin said. “The old gal must have had some hard times.”

The paint on the vessel had peeled off and huge rusty blotches ravaged the hull like the effects of disease. The tall windows were broken. Sections of deck had been unevenly cut away with torches.

“Got anything on the restaurant interior?” Hawkins asked.

Sutherland clicked the computer cursor. “These photos are from a newspaper article.”

The grainy black-and-white pictures showed the dining room and the bar. Hawkins paid particular attention to a diagram of the restaurant’s lay-out.

“What’s your assessment, Cal?”

“Lots of places to set up an ambush. But there are a dozen ways to sneak on board, too.”

“You’re going to have to be the ‘sneakee.’ Marzak is expecting me, and he’s got Cait.”

“I’m going to like being back in my natural habitat. H. 2. O.” Calvin tightened his lips and turned to Sutherland. “You got an overview showing where the boat is in relation to its surroundings?”

A satellite photo of the Maryland shore appeared on the screen. Sutherland zoomed in until the outline of a peninsula appeared.

“Kinda looks like a lollipop,” she said.

The narrow section of the peninsula was a causeway leading to the widening, roughly circular tip of land. It was surrounded by shallows between the upland and the darker open water. The elongated lines of the yacht became visible. “Newspaper story says a hurricane pushed the yacht onto land and washed in silt that made it impossible for boats to come in and tie up.” Sutherland enlarged the image up, showing a long dock sticking out into a marsh.

Calvin said, “You come in by land, I make it by water. Classic pincers maneuver. You distract him here.” He pointed to the dining room. “I come up through the marsh, sneak aboard the boat here and come in the kitchen. Might even stop at the bar to order a rum coke.”

“You really think it will be that easy?” Hawkins said.

“Naw. I was kidding about the rum coke.” Calvin asked Sutherland for a geological survey chart of the Eastern Shore. The water showed only a foot or two of average depth close to shore.

“There’s almost no water close to the upland,” Hawkins said.

“If this wetland is anything like a Louisiana bayou, it’ll be mostly mud. No way to walk across it. And no telling what shape that dock is in, but it’s sending off real bad vibes.”

“Marzak vibes?’

“He likes to play with explosives and he’d expect us to try something funny. If I were him, I’d figure you to come in across the causeway. But he knows you’ve got back up with me, so he’d booby trap the only other access.”

“Makes sense. What about placing explosives in the swamp?”

“Be tough to lay down charges in the water. Big area to cover and he’d figure it’s too shallow for a boat and too muddy for walking.”

Hawkins pictured the scene in his mind. Driving across the causeway. Climbing onto the yacht. Looking for Marzak, who’d lay down a trail for him to follow to a trap.

“Let’s use Marzak’s MO against him.”

He outlined his thoughts.

“Might work,” Calvin said. “It would depend on precision timing, no margin for error and luck, but it would make a hell of a distraction. What if the dock isn’t booby-trapped?”

“Then you’ll have to come up with your own distraction.”

Abby had been listening to the back and forth.

“Is this as close to surgical precision as you can get?”

“ ’Fraid so, Abby. A lot can go wrong. But we’ll look at all the eventualities and build layers of backup. That’s all we can do.”

She nodded, but the expression on her face showed she was still worried.

“Matt, there’s something I have to say to you.”

“Uh-oh,” Calvin said. “I feel another one of those tender moments coming on. Hey Sutherland. Let’s get us a couple of muffins.”

Sutherland grinned, the computer cover snapped shut, then she and Calvin headed for the galley.

“I’m waiting,” Hawkins said when they were gone.

“Matt, I’ve really grown to like Cait and I’d hate to see anything happen to her.”

“Same here, Abby. That’s why we’re going to make this work.”

“I know you will, but I’ve got to ask you something that sounds really stupid. You’d be willing to give up the scepter for her. Would you do the same for me?”

“No,” Hawkins replied, his mouth widening into a grin at her crestfallen expression. “I’d exchange the whole Prester John treasure for you.”

Abby smiled. “Damn you, Hawkins!”

He threw his palms wide. “What?”

She leaned over, kissed his lips and headed for the front of the cabin. Then, abruptly, she turned and said, “Excuse me. I’ve got to make some phone calls.”

Hawkins watched with a puzzled expression in his eyes as Abby settled into a seat with a phone against her ear. Then he punched out a number on his own phone and when a voice answered, he said, “You were right about the snake pit, Commander Kelly.”

“Hawkins! Damn. Hope you had plenty of snake repellent.”

“We used so much that we ran out.”

“That bad?”

“Worse, commander.”

“Sorry, Matt. What can I do to help?”

Hawkins told him what he wanted and when he was arriving in Washington.

“I’ll have it waiting at the airport,” Kelly said. “Anything else?”

“I’ll let you know.”

“Good luck, whatever you’re into.”

“Thanks,” Hawkins said, “I’m going to need it.”