Arabian Storm (The Hunter Killer Series Book 5) by George Wallace (different ereaders .txt) 📕
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- Author: George Wallace
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He was about to buzz his aide and ask where the hell that fresh pot of coffee was when the door opened. Lt. Jimmy Wilson stuck his head in.
“Coffee’s almost percolated, Admiral. But I got some guy on the secure phone asking for you. Figured it had to be important for him to have your number, but...”
“Jimmy, just tell me who the hell it is.”
“Said his name was Dillon. TJ Dillon. No rank. Civilian, I guess, but he would have to have connections. Shall I tell him you’re in a conference?”
“Dillon? Well, I’ll be a son of a...yeah, put the call through. And coffee. Stat!”
Tom Donnegan rubbed his chin. Another year or so, when things calmed down, they were going to move back to Hawaii, he and the wife. Retire at their place high up in Aiea Heights, where he could stand on his lanai and watch his beloved submarines far below in Pearl Harbor.
The thought of it brought a smile to the old warrior, but only for a second. TJ Dillon. Now where was that crazy CIA bastard this time? And what sort of mischief was he in the middle of? Last time anyone had actually seen the former Navy SEAL for sure, he was madly paddling a canoe down some jungle river in Venezuela in hot pursuit of an escaping double agent named Josh Kirkland, all after a little jaunt across Cuba. That had been a couple of years before. Thankfully, the shadowy agent’s name and whereabouts had not been of any concern for Donnegan since.
The admiral hardly noticed the uptick in acid in his belly or the return of dull pain in his chest as he tried to recall all the details of his previous dealings with Dillon.
There was a quiet chime at his left elbow. Donnegan grabbed the phone handset, first noting that the green secure light was on.
“TJ, where the hell you at? You don’t write. You don’t call. Last we heard you were chasing that turncoat bastard Kirkland across Africa. You ever catch him?”
There was a chuckle on the crisp-sounding phone line. Donnegan was legendary throughout the Navy for dispensing with any superfluous pleasantries. Direct and straight to the point. That was his style. And just another reason men like TJ Dillon liked and respected him so much.
“And a pleasant good morning to you too, Admiral. I’m afraid I’m not allowed to answer either one of your questions. Or they would hang me. I’m sure you understand. But I do have some information that you might find interesting. Something that might tie into something you are working on that I’m not supposed to know about.”
It was Donnegan’s turn to chuckle.
“Always the Agency man, huh? Everything’s a secret. Except, apparently, mine. But go ahead with your news bulletin, Dillon. What the hell is so interesting?”
“I was participating in... well... let’s call it a cash-enhanced discussion with a not-very-nice piece of human trash in a very out-of-the-way part of the world. He was so motivated by money and my other techniques of persuasion that he shared some very interesting views on that research ship, the Ocean Mystery, that went missing. And about a dude you may know, a Samuel Talbot. My talkative friend is convinced that all is not as it appears there. And I have excellent reasons to believe him. The good ship was doing far more than climate research. She was also using some very sophisticated UUVs. And I strongly suggest you might want to look into a Mossad link.”
Donnegan rubbed his chest hard, thinking before he replied. The admiral did not really know enough about TJ Dillon to completely trust him. But several people the Navy spy chief did know and trust seemed convinced Dillon was straight up. And a valuable asset if he didn’t get his ass killed out there.
“Well, that is not really surprising. Talbot’s always looked to be somewhere south of shady. The way he lurks back in the shadows. But not so far that he was invisible.”
Donnegan took a long swig of the antacid. Where the hell was that coffee?
“Exactly,” Dillon agreed. “He could pretend to be an international man of mystery, doing good works, saving humanity from global warming, while modestly maintaining a low profile. Nobody would expect any ulterior motives. Certainly no intelligence connections. Perfect Mossad cover.”
“Does your source have any idea what Talbot might be using those UUVs for?” The pain in Donnegan’s chest was now bad enough to force a low groan.
“Admiral, you okay? You don’t sound so good.”
“Just a case of heartburn,” Donnegan answered, gritting his teeth. “Damn lunch not agreeing with me. Now, you haven’t answered my question.”
“The boys at Glilat Ma’arav don’t exactly confide in me. But from their perspective, the Iranians are the only threat with a serious sea-going capability. And a UUV is a great way to sneak up real close and personal without being seen.”
The Mossad headquarters on the Glilat Ma’arav Interchange, just outside Tel Aviv, was famous for maintaining very tight security. Some said that Einstein’s famous black holes gave off more light than ever came out of those massive gray buildings.
Donnegan tossed down a handful of the aspirins. Some of the puzzle pieces were falling into place. An Iranian ballistic missile submarine would be an existential threat for Israel. They would do everything within their power to detect it any time it went to sea. And stop it if it became anything near a threat. That line of thought could very well answer the question of who placed the mines that damaged the submarine, but it still left the question of what happened to the research ship and where it might be.
“And Admiral, that’s all I have to report for now,” Dillon said.
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