Operation Sea Ghost

14

Indian Ocean

THE SECOND PIRATE attack on the Taiwan Song came as a total surprise.

The hours following the first assault had been hectic. Thinking the pirates were gone for good after being bested in their initial attempt, Nolan had washed the blood off the sides of the ship, just for Emma’s sake.

Once done, he’d headed for the bridge where, by switching around some of the dying electrical circuits, the ship’s crew had finally gotten the shortwave radio working well enough to produce static. When further adjustments were made to the ship’s battered antenna, the radio, like a small miracle, screeched to life. After a little more fine-tuning, the ship’s crew declared it able to reach stations along the west coast of India and even up into Pakistan.

Emma spent the long afternoon trying to get a message out to personal contacts she had in the area, asking them to accept the ninety-nine Untouchables as refugees, the first step in getting everyone off the leaky, dangerous ship. And she had a fairly impressive list of people to contact.

Her first choice was friends at the Pakistani headquarters of the Red Crescent, the Muslim version of the Red Cross. This considerable organization was headquartered in the city of Karachi. Two years before, in return for a sizable fee, Emma had done a series of photo shoots for them, posing with starving kids in one of Pakistan’s largest refugee camps. The Crescent’s donations skyrocketed, at which time, the charity’s executives told her if they could ever return the favor, all she had to do was ask—and she’d believed them.

She had no idea, though, if the Crescent’s headquarters’ communication center had a shortwave radio, or if they did, what channel they could be contacted on. But as this headquarters was situated in Karachi, and Karachi was a port city, with Nolan’s help, she contacted the city harbormaster on a channel found in the Taiwan Song’s radio handbook. It took forever, but finally someone was able to tell them the radio channel on which to contact the Crescent’s Karachi location.

So far, so good. But after spending an hour getting someone to actually reply to her radio call, the person she spoke to—a low-level functionary—said the Pakistani Crescent was too overburdened to take on the care of ninety-nine more refugees—especially Indian refugees.

This was just the beginning of an exasperating six hours. After the Pakistani connection went nowhere, Emma used the same tactics to contact the Indian Red Cross’s Mumbai office. The previous year she’d lent her image to an assortment of their ads, again for a large fee. It took more than two hours and many repeated hailing calls until she finally got the radio channel she needed from the Mumbai District Police. But while they were glad to talk to her, once she explained why she was calling, no one at the Indian Red Cross office wanted anything to do with the ninety-nine Untouchables, especially after they heard they’d come out of Gottabang.

She did not give up, though. She began taking a series of long-end-around routes to contact political figures she knew in both India and Pakistan, but all to no avail. Then she found a phone exchange in Gujarat that could patch her from the shortwave right into the Indian phone system. Through this, she tried contacting movie stars, pop stars, and moneymen she knew in Bollywood. But none was interested in helping her.

In sheer desperation she even tried to contact Tamil Nadu—the location of the Mother Theresa Mission. Though she got through to them, after first contacting the local police, the person she talked to just kept repeating: “We have no boats. We have no boats.” Finally, they just hung up on her.

This was how she spent the long, uncomfortable sweltering day. Nolan was always close by, but Emma did all the work—and bore the burden of the maddening indifference as each contact on her list turned her down.

By the time the sun started to set, it was clear that, while Emma had managed to rescue some of the most unfortunate people on the planet, no one wanted to take them in.

Night fell. It was still many hours before the Shin-1 would return, and they weren’t sure what would happen when it arrived. Even if the flying boat could take some of the refugees, where would they bring them?

“Have you ever heard of the SS St. Louis?” Emma asked Nolan, once she finally twitched off the radio.

He told her the name sounded familiar.

“I read a script about it once,” she went on. “This ship full of Jewish refugees somehow got out of Nazi Germany right before World War Two began. When they set sail, they were sure that some other country would take them in. But every time they reached a destination, the refugees were barred from going ashore. With each stop, it got worse—even the United States wouldn’t let them in.

“Finally they had to go back to Europe. When the war started many of the passengers wound up in the concentration camps and were murdered.”

She looked up at Nolan. Tears were streaking the last of her eye shadow. “I’m afraid that’s what’s going to happen here,” she said.

Without thinking, he took her hand. It was curiously cold.

“It won’t,” he told her. “I promise.”

She looked at him with unadorned eyes. He realized for the first time just how huge and blue they were. There was an awkward silence between them. Her eyes were locked on him. In a way it felt like he was meeting her for the first time.

That’s when one of the Senegals suddenly appeared on the bridge.

He shouted: “Brigands … encore!”

Pirates … again.

Nolan couldn’t believe it.

“Are you sure?” he asked the man. “After what we did to them this morning?”

The Senegal pointed to the rear of the ship. Nolan activated his nightscope and was disheartened to see at least a dozen lights approaching the freighter in the dark, coming from the east. They had the same markings as the ones that attacked earlier. Each one was also flying what appeared to be a colorful flag.

No doubt about it. It was the Bom-Kats, again.…

“What is this?” Nolan groaned. “Didn’t these guys have enough?”

The Senegal said in French: “Quelques brigands n’obtiennent jamais assez.”

Some pirates never get enough.…

Nolan grabbed a pressurized foghorn they’d found on the bridge and blew it three times. Gunner was belowdecks trying to get the electrical systems working better. The other four Senegals were attending to the ship’s balky bilge pumps. Within seconds of hearing the horn, they were up on deck, weapons ready.

Emma looked at Nolan; her eyes were watering up again.

“You know what you have to do,” he told her. He realized he was still holding her hand.

She hurried down to the mess hall; Nolan motioned for one of the Senegals to follow her, the ship’s regular crew was right behind.

* * *

THE PIRATES’ ATTACK was coming from the rear this time—a change in their tactics.

The Bom-Kats knew the old ship was heavily defended, yet they appeared intent on doing a second assault—a notion that baffled Nolan.

The pirates might have speculated the ship was carrying drugs or weapons, and that was the reason for all the firepower on board. But drugs and guns were readily available in this part of the world, both were cheap and plentiful. The Bom-Kats were crazy to attack the ship again, thinking that sort of treasure awaited them.

But that’s exactly what they were doing.

And Alpha Squad had to get ready for them.

* * *

TEN MINUTES LATER the pirates’ speedboats were just 500 feet from the stern.

Nolan had set Alpha’s defensive positions the best he could. Because Gunner was holding the most individual firepower, Nolan suggested he hide behind the aft railing support beam, a thick strut of metal which looked out over the dead astern.

Nolan put two Senegals behind the starboard lifeboat station, which was now empty but still gave them adequate cover. The two other Senegals Nolan positioned atop the aft power shack, a five-foot-high hump located right behind Gunner’s location.

Once they were set, Nolan climbed up to the second work railing—a sort of crow’s nest where the ship’s crane could be operated. It was about twenty feet off the rear deck. From here he could see everything from midships back.

Everyone had his nightscope goggles on and working. They could clearly see the pirates creeping up on them. Everyone knew to hold fire until they could determine exactly how the Bom-Kats were going to attack.

The pirates’ speedboats finally passed through the ship’s weak wake. There were four of them this time. Nolan counted six men in each, three times the strength of the pirates’ first attack. As before, the majority of the Bom-Kats fleet stayed off about a quarter mile away.

Alpha Squad allowed the pirates to throw hook ladders up to the aft railing. The hooks were large and three-prong; the ladders were made of reinforced clothesline. Four of the ladders quickly latched on. The pirates were ready to climb.

Nolan did one last check of the squad. Each man was ready, weapon up, just waiting for his order to fire.

The pirates began climbing; this was their most vulnerable position. Alpha Squad was well hidden in the dark, aiming right down at them. Few things in combat came this tidy, Nolan thought.

But he didn’t hesitate for more than a second.

He cried out: “Now!”

The resulting explosion of gunfire was so bright, it lit up the entire back of the ship. The five M4s plus Gunner’s Streetsweeper tore into the pirates, killing most of them instantly. As before, those not killed outright were thrown back into the sea, most of them horribly wounded, to be swept away by the current.

It all took just ten seconds. Two dozen pirates were dead, and none of them had come within six feet of getting aboard the Taiwan Song.

So, what was the point of this?

No sooner had Nolan called out ceasefire than he knew something was wrong.

Pirates weren’t soldiers. They weren’t in the business of doing massive armed assaults on ships. And certainly not a ship as worthless, yet heavily defended as the Taiwan Song.

Something wasn’t right here.

He yelled for the rest of the squad to stay in position. Then he ran full tilt away from the aft section, past the cargo bay, past the bridge, up to the bow. He looked over the edge—and saw six pirates, dressed in black, climbing up a rope ladder. Each one was armed with an M-16. Each was also carrying a camera and a strap around his neck. Weird …

It was clear the attack on the aft section had been a diversion. This was the main raiding party.

Nolan opened up on them. Two of the pirates didn’t even see him standing above them. He killed them immediately then shot two more as they became entangled in the rope ladder. The fifth and sixth men fell into the water. He shot them as well—two short barrages each—finishing them off.

But with the last squeeze of his trigger, Nolan heard a disturbing click!

Damn …

He was out of ammo.