Tsunami Connection (17 page)

The operation took seconds, after which Zak removed the
woman's burlap sack and let her look at the results of his handiwork for about
two seconds. He then covered her head again. The two younger officers reached
under the masks of both prisoners at the same moment, following Zak's orders.
They temporarily removed one earplug from MacAuley's ear and the gag from
Michael's mouth. MacAuley listened, fear growing up inside him.

These people had read him. He felt they were playing, but he
was no longer sure. The fool who had tried to trick him earlier was obviously
not present. The procedure was repeated on Michael's other nipple. This time
MacAuley listened all along. His sister whimpered helplessly throughout.

"Keffy, how could you leave me to these monsters?"
uttered the young, blindfolded woman. She continued to cry and cursed the name
of her brother who was straining on his bindings as he listened.

Zak pushed MacAuley's legs open and the flat rock started to
slide down between his legs. Zak placed it between the man's thighs, forcing
the terrorist to hold the rock between them. Earlier in the interrogation, Zak
had communicated the stop signal to MacAuley. The prisoner gestured the agreed
signal to end the process. Zak opened the gag and removed MacAuley's mask. The
prisoner could see his sister's breasts through watery eyes. He made to spit at
Zak, but thought better of it and instead, to the surprise of Zak, MacAuley
gave up.

"I have Syrian GPS coordinates for you. There is a
cavern, an ancient salt mine, near the coast. I planted the stuff there a year
ago," he uttered as he gulped air through his open mouth, and then
continued, more sure of himself after having succumbed to the wishes of his
captor. The ease of his giving in stunned both MacAuley and Zak. As well, Zak
found that MacAuley had recovered from the interrogation too quickly, but the
tight timetable pressured his judgment, perhaps making him careless.

"The bunker's a weapons of mass destruction (WMD)
storage place. The government forces may not be able to hold back the rebels.
There is also an unusual training room there, the room, but I am not privy to
its purpose," said MacAuley in a manner that alternated accuracy and
perplexity.

"The coordinates?"

"Coordinates: N 35° 27' 37.4051, E 35° 50' 28.244. Now
stop with her. I will remain behind and give you any information you require in
exchange for her freedom. She has suffered too much in her life because of
me."

Zak blocked up MacAuley's mouth, returned the mask, and then
went out to the van to call Sam on a secure uplink. Sam congratulated him and
got the coordinates on satellite image. He switched to thermal and, sure
enough, right in the middle of the Syrian countryside, not far from the town of
Latakia, Syria, was a large underground heat signature.

"We'll need confirmation before launching strikes in
Syria. Your teams will go in to verify and collect evidence for presentation to
the world community and the United Nations. Come home, now."

Zak broke the secure connection, slid sideways, stepped
around the front passenger seat, and got out of the sliding passenger-side door
of the van. He looked at the boathouse and thought about what to do with
MacAuley and his sister. Just then Kefira appeared. He turned to see her
Streetfighter halt beside the van. She appeared more together. Despite what she
had said about the MacAuley woman, his heart sprung hopeful when he saw her.
She moved toward him with purpose and wrapped her arms around his neck before
she kissed him, deeply, while her tongue explored his teeth and then his
tongue. A lot of energy passed between them, but Zak snapped out of it first.

"In love with her?" he asked.

"I got too involved in the mission. Sometimes that
happens. It's you I love. I just wanted to succeed and I was willing to do
anything. Anything, it seems, except torture her."

"We got the coordinates. He broke just as you said. You
succeeded here. This is the biggest success of our careers. Now Sam wants us
back in Israel. We have to go in and get proof in order to justify bombing raids
to the UN."

"You mean we don't have to report my fuck up!"

"You know the rules … we're always measured by results,
not methods. You're the pro, not the spotter. We'll just say it was
need-to-know."

"What're we gonna do with MacAuley?"

"We need to keep him under wraps, to be sure about his
information."

"And what about living up to our word about the
girl?"

"I really don't know what's gotten into you. Those pigs
are murderers."

"Murderers have families, loved ones, too. Besides
we'll need to milk him dry."

"We just don't have time now."

"Looks like one of your new recruits gets a promotion
to Captain."

"That's what I thought, too. Can we use the house where
you were hiding out with them before?"

"There's a boathouse by the dock. It'll be empty for
months now. It is a bit risky, but the risk is manageable. All we need is to
convert the houseboat to a dungeon of sorts with an opening for a slop bucket.
Shouldn't be too hard. Did you bring any power tools?"

"I never travel light. They are in the back of the second
van."

"All we need then is some plywood and hopefully some
sound absorbing rubber insulation, and a shit load of long screws that'll go
into the houseboat's deck."

"I saw a Supermercado Jumbo on the way in here one day.
They have all the building supplies we'll need."

"Where is it? I'll send Tahila."

"Tahila, is it? Already on a first name basis."

"I like the ring of that jealousy better than hearing
about your lesbian affairs."

"It's on something Larralde. Wait, I'll check on the
GPS on the Fighter. It's on Avenida Crisologo Larralde, about fifteen minutes
from here."

"Go and bring them both to the van, will you?"

"Yes, Sir."

"Cut the shit, Kefira. They're as green as they come. I
have to maintain discipline."

"I know. I just couldn't resist."

"You stay with the prisoners, and no funny business.
Just sit and watch. Don't even talk to them. They're blindfolded and their ears
are plugged. Remember, don't speak in the room. Use hand signals to get the
others here."

"Sir."

"The other one's name is Ben."

The two younger agents went off to the lumber supply store.
They had a list of supplies to pick up and needed both vans with the seats
removed to accomplish their task. When they got back, all four agents loaded
the supplies and tools onto the deck of the houseboat. The spotter remained
behind to watch the vehicles, while Kefira nosed the houseboat back into the
river channel and moved off toward the boathouse she had spoken to Zak about
earlier as a possible place to hide their transportable prison.

On the way there, Zak and the younger agents used a chain
saw to cut up the bedroom furniture. As well, they started making a room inside
the bedroom. It was lined with sound dampening rubber and consisted of metal
struts and a double layer of plywood. The door had a large hole with an outer
lock for sliding food in and body fluids out.

Inside, the two prisoners each lay on half of the old
mattress, in diagonally opposite corners of the room. Michael could just reach
the food and refuse buckets. Ropes suspended from the ceiling kept the two away
from each other. A section of Plexiglas near the ceiling permitted the guards
to see everything in the room. There was a second piece of Plexiglas in the
door. The four of them built the mini-prison in six hours. Zak drugged the two
prisoners again and left them asleep on their respective beds. Tahila took over
command of the operation with a promotion to Sergeant. Ben accepted his role
graciously.

March 2012

Two men and one woman sat staring,
mesmerized, even after several years of experience, by the video feeds – often
called pred porn – that were displayed in front of them on floor-to-ceiling
plasma screens, deep under the Pentagon. The attack on September 11 had freed
up enormous amounts of funding, which committees such as the Predator Planning
Committee gobbled up.

One result of that funding extravaganza was the new Navy
Command Center that the Joint Chiefs constructed deep underground to protect it
from possible attacks in the future. After all, it was likely, so the funding
requests stated that the terrorists had intentionally targeted the Navy Command
Center on September 11. Hidden deeper still, and not reported on any funding
schedules, was the Navy Predator Control Center. In this room, video data
streamed live from Navy-controlled ops all over the world.

As a result, command could directly influence black
operations with a hands-on approach. As a result, Navy Command could supervise
even the most delicate operations, and these operations could evolve as US
Central Command needed them to, with unvarying command input.

Everyone in the room, including the two predator operators,
was in uniform. Most of them bristled at her presence, not because she was a
woman, but rather because she was a 'spook'. Without knowing it, they were
justified in their reaction – she was passing information to Mossad.

Her briefcase lining contained a highly sophisticated,
undetectable ceramic grid that would automatically store all digital
communications from any room. The briefcase had passed every kind of security
imaginable that day. The double agent was the American-born wife of a
firefighter who had died on September 11 while trying to rescue people before
the Twin Towers collapsed. She had seventeen years of experience at the CIA,
and the new President of the United States of America insisted that all
committees share all information; hence, she was in this room on March 6, 2012.

"Ms. Tallingsworth will be pleased to note that this
highly classified display is showing us Aceh Province in Indonesia," said
the watch officer, Lieutenant Commander Jonas.

"I am aware that I irritate you, Lieutenant Commander.
I am, however, mandated by the President of these United States to be here. We
are all on the same team here, Lieutenant Commander. You have your counterpart
at CIA Predator Planning, if I am not mistaken," said Tallingsworth.

"I am an old player here, Ma'am. I am truly sorry if I
projected attitude in my speech or manner, Ma'am."

"That southern hospitality tone is about as much as I
can take, Boy. My rank, if you had bothered to check your briefings before we
met today, gives me the last word here. I'll thank you to call me Sir, from now
on, or perhaps Lieutenant Colonel."

"I am sorry, Ma'am, Lieutenant Colonel, Ma'am."

"Enough, enough," added the oldest man in the
room, an upper class look-alike for John Kenneth Galbraith, in a blue and white
striped Seersucker suit, appropriate to the unseasonably early cherry blossoms
in Washington that spring.

"We have work to do. Lieutenant Commander, what exactly
are we looking at here?" queried the gentleman.

"Sir, this here is a bad guy. We have been following
him for some weeks as he has traipsed across the globe, trying to escape our
surveillance."

"Sorry, Sir. Just a minute."

"Sergeant, thermal, please," said the Lieutenant
Commander to the technician on the level below them in the small amphitheatre.

"Sir, thermal on," said the operator.

"There, Sir and Lieutenant Colonel, is the moving red
spot now getting off the ferry from Banda Aceh, in the small rural area called
Pulau
Weh
."

"Alright, could you explain in what sense he is a bad
guy?" asked Lieutenant Colonel Tallingsworth.

"It's a long story. We have to make a decision now,
Ma'am, Sir. This is about where we lose 'em all the time. They come ashore in
places like this and go to ground. Usually we never see them again until they
surface, associated with some budding chatter about a developing event."

"Is it not in your purview to decide here, Lieutenant
Commander?" asked the General.

"You are the ranking officer here today, Sir."

"Do what you think is best, Lieutenant Commander."

"Sergeant, collateral damage?"

"Sir, five hundred feet from here I see no hot-image
sources. No collateral damage."

"Fire."

"Target down in seven seconds and counting. Target
down, Sir."

"I am still not sure why we witnessed that exercise,
Lieutenant Commander."

"If I may, Ma'am, Sir. We want to make a joint request
to take advantage of the initial stages of a situation in the water off Banda
Aceh," said Jonas.

"We need some details, Lieutenant Commander," said
the General.

"That's where the CIA comes in, Sir, and the Lieutenant
Colonel is here for that reason," said the Lieutenant Commander.

"General, we have been working with a Russian named
Rostov, for some years now, in the war on drugs. He has, in his possession, a
nuclear submarine, Akula class. It is, at this moment, off the coast of Banda
Aceh," said Tallingsworth.

"You people are working with a Russian Mafioso."

"In a way, Sir."

"What does this have to do with the Navy, Lieutenant
Commander, Lieutenant Colonel?"

"Navy has the Los Angeles class sub, USS Tucson,
trailing the Russian Akula. Navy has expressed an interest in sinking her
before she completes her mission, Sir."

"Lieutenant Colonel Tallingsworth, you are obtuse. What
mission?"

"We need to be able to find out where these people
disappear to when they go to ground in Aceh Province. None of our on-sight
teams has been able to get anywhere in the last three years. We are stymied,
Sir."

"Clear the room, please. Lieutenant Commander, you as
well."

The two technicians and the Lieutenant Commander stood up
and filed out of the room at their respective exit levels. They left by two
separate doors, one on the tech level, the other on the command level.

"Lieutenant Colonel, get to the point."

"We believe that they have developed a weapon,
Sir."

"What kind of weapon?"

"A tsunami creating probe, Sir."

"You mean to say that they will provoke a tsunami in
Aceh Province."

"If it works, we win in three ways, Sir."

"Details? But remember, I am old-school Navy, by the
book."

"First, we can move the USS Ronald Reagan Battle Group
close enough to launch Predators and Black Hawks with Seals on board in
preparation. Second, with our people so near, we will be in position to offer
humanitarian services to the area struck by the wave and, at the same time, we
will have unfettered access with Black Hawk helicopters and Navy Seals to the
area in question. We will be able to find out just where the bad guys are
training. Third, we will get the weapon from the Russian sub by continuing the
surveillance until such a time as it becomes possible to capture it."

"How many people are we talking about here?"

"We will have proof that the Russians did it,
Sir."

"You did not answer my question."

"More than three hundred thousand civilians live there,
Sir."

"You are a piece of work, Lieutenant Colonel. I have to
bump this up the chain of command, but my suspicion is that the answer will be
a go."

"We need an answer now, Sir. The Commander of the USS
Tucson has a window of communication at 07:00 hours their time. That is in four
minutes, Sir."

"I feel a vice on my balls, Lieutenant Colonel, and I
do not like it one bit."

"Sir?"

"Go."

"Lieutenant Commander, get back in here. That's it.
Please contact USS Tucson and send a message: pursue and maintain surveillance.
As well, send an encrypted message to the Captain of USS Ronald Reagan:
imperative to bring Carrier Group near following coordinates before 04:30 March
9, 2012. Coordinates: latitude N 1° 45' 27.1325 and longitude E 89° 1'
59.5313."

"Thank you very much, Sir. One small thing more,
Sir," said Jonas.

"We need to stay here, Sir," said Tallingsworth.

"Why is that, Lieutenant Colonel?"

"We need confirmation, Sir."

"Confirmation of what?"

"The tsunami, Sir."

"You have my permission to wait for your confirmation,
Lieutenant Colonel."

"Thank you and good day to you, Sir."

"I hope I never see you again, Lieutenant Colonel. Good
day to you, Lieutenant Commander."