Arabian Storm (The Hunter Killer Series Book 5) by George Wallace (different ereaders .txt) 📕

plywood crudely painted a dull cement color—covered what had once been the wide main deck. Some monstrosity had been built to hide the catamaran’s distinct dual bows. Someone had transformed his ship and made it unrecognizable.

But, of course, that had been the aim.

“I see that you find our enhancements to the Ocean Mystery interesting,” Babak commented. “I trust you approve. I doubt even you would now recognize your little yacht from a few hundred meters away. But do not feel bad. When we are finished with her, no one else will recognize it either. At least not until it is too late to matter.”

The Houthi terrorist leader’s dry, harsh snicker sent a shiver down Monagnad’s spine.

The research ship’s captain furtively glanced around his bridge, looking for any other changes. This was his chance. Likely his only chance. There had to be a way to signal to the world some word of their situation and where they were being held by these madmen.

But nothing seemed obvious.

“Now, Captain, as I say, it is time you earned your keep,” General Babak continued. “We have kept you and your crew alive for a purpose. It is time for you to show Allah your appreciation for the mercy.”

Monagnad stared blankly at the diminutive terrorist leader, only half-listening as he continued trying to solve the problem of how to signal their plight.

Then, out of the corner of his eye, he saw it. It instantly made sense.

The UUVs. They were the answer. The only answer. Provided, of course, that they were still out there, circling, waiting for a command from the mother ship. And that they had any power left. But they were the only hope for him and his crew.

“Are you listening, Captain Monagnad? It is important that you understand what we are telling you to do,” Babak continued, no longer smiling. “You will order your crew to operate this scow under our orders. They will do what we tell them, or they will feed the sharks. You will watch each of them die until none remain and then it will be your turn. It is time for you to choose between death or doing the will of Allah.”

Babak stepped closer.

“Captain, I sense you are not fully comprehending what I am telling you!”

He suddenly shoved Monagnad backward, hard. The captain staggered, allowing his momentum to carry him into the after bulkhead, slamming brutally into a control panel. The control panel for the UUVs. He reached back, ostensibly to steady himself, to regain his balance.

But the captain’s hand fell on one particular switch on the console.

The UUV emergency shutdown control.

Ψ

Three miles out, the only UUV with enough charge left in its fuel cells to continue to circle just below the surface received the signal from the Ocean Mystery. As it happened, the little submersible was in the process of making one final, feeble loop before it joined its fellows at the bottom of the Arabian Sea, there to sleep forever. But with the last voltage it had left, the emergency shutdown signal was received and interpreted. Just as it was programmed to do, that triggered a number of automatic sequential actions, the most important of which was the deployment of an emergency response buoy. The buoy, once on the surface, immediately began to ping a communications satellite that waited in a geosynchronous orbit twenty-three thousand miles overhead. That signal told anyone in the world who might be listening that a very valuable UUV had been sunk at this very specific location.

As it happened, someone was listening.

Ψ

Samuel Talbot was initially mystified by the report. Why would he suddenly receive an emergency shutdown message from one of Ocean Mystery’s UUVs? He had assumed that all the unmanned submersibles had been lost when his ship disappeared somewhere in the Arabian Sea. Weeks spent searching the vast ocean area had come up empty. Not even a bit of flotsam.

But now? This strange message? Like a voice from the crypt? What could it mean? Could his ship actually still be out there somewhere, still afloat?

The mission control center, buried deep under Mossad headquarters, was manned by only a few technicians. With Ocean Mystery and her UUVs assumed gone, there was really no reason for much effort in the facility. The sensor and mission packages were all controlled and monitored elsewhere. Talbot frankly expected to find the control center lights were out when he was called down there.

One of the technicians waved the gray-haired spy master-cum-billionaire over to a large-screen display that revealed a detailed chart of the western Arabian Sea and the Gulf of Aden. The technician pointed to a tiny dot and said, “This is the location for the emergency pinger. It was a really weak signal that only lasted for a few cycles before it died completely. We are most fortunate that the satellite even managed to detect it.”

Talbot stared at the chart and rubbed his chin. “Are we very sure that this is one of our UUVs?”

“Yes. It is definitely UUV Number Six,” the technician answered. “They each have a specific code ID so we can tell them apart. Zero chance it is anything else.”

More to himself than to the technician, Talbot mumbled, “That is over a thousand miles from Ocean Mystery’s last known position. How did it get here? Have we been looking in the wrong place all this time?”

Talbot rushed out of the control center before the technician could even hazard a guess. As he typically did, Samuel Talbot assayed a situation, came to a conclusion, and acted. Such lack of hesitation and avoidance of over-analyzation had stood him in good stead in his business dealings. And had proved even more of an advantage in his current activities.

He knew he had to get resources down into the Gulf of Aden very quickly. Very quietly, too. If the satellite had heard the pinger, someone else might have detected it as well.

And that someone might be a thousand miles closer than his assets