Necessary Retribution (39 page)

“I'm Rob and I'm a friend of Jonathan. I'm going to get you to safety after I take care of the others on the boat. Do you understand?”

Ahmed nodded his head.

Robin looked around and saw a hatch. He went over and opened it and saw a hold large enough for Ahmed to hide. He went back and untied Ahmed. “Ahmed, you're a brave boy. I want you to hide in that hold until I or another man named Alex comes for you. Will you do that for me?”

Ahmed nodded again and then asked, “Is my brother safe?”

“Yes, Ahmed, he is with Jonathan.”

Ahmed got up and went to the hold and crawled in.

“Remember, Ahmed. Don't come out until I or a man named Alex comes for you. You're going to hear some bad things, but just stay here.”

“I will.”

Robin rubbed the boy's head. “Good boy.”

He closed the hatch and looked around and saw where a flight of stairs went down to the main cabin. He crawled to the edge of the stairway and listened. He could hear voices in serious discussion. He backed off and called Alex on the radio.

“Alex, do you copy?” Robin whispered.

Alex's whisper came through Robin's earpiece. “Roger, good signal.”

“Still got the drop on your guy?”

“Roger.”

“I took one out here and found Ahmed. Take yours out and re-contact me. We'll recon and then do the assault.”

“Roger, standby.”

Robin stood back and gripped his weapon, ready to charge down the stairs if Alex ran into trouble. The seconds ticked by…

“Bad guy down,” Alex finally whispered. “I see two people, an Asian and probably the ISI man talking to someone across the room I can't see. There's a guy with an AK shorty, probably a bodyguard, standing behind them.”

Robin crawled back to the top of the stairs and looked. “There's another bodyguard with an AK shorty standing to the left of where you'll come in.” Robin moved his head to the right. “The guy the others are talking to is Picushkin, who is sitting on a settee. I'll take out the bodyguard I see, you take out yours. Let's try to take everyone else alive.”

“Roger, I'll move to Picushkin, you move to the others.”

Robin pointed his submachine gun at the head of his bodyguard and switched the selector to full auto. “Roger. Are you ready?”

A few seconds went by. “Roger.”

“On the three count…three…two…one.” Robin squeezed the trigger and sent a two round burst into the side of the head of his first target. He leaped onto the stairs, wrapping his left leg around the railing and slid down on his left leg facing backwards so he could train his weapon on the Asian and the ISI man. He landed on the deck to the left and slightly behind Alex, who advanced on Picushkin. The ISI man reached into the left side of his suit coat. Robin advanced on his two targets and shouted, “Don't move!” The ISI man continued to go for his gun. Robin fired a three round burst and shredded the ISI man's right shoulder sending blood, bone fragments and muscle tissue flying. The man screamed and fell back against his chair while his gun clattered onto the deck. The Asian didn't move. Robin moved behind the two men. He now faced Picushkin and saw he held a satellite phone with a calm face and his index finger on the keys. Alex was next to him with his submachine gun pointed at Picushkin's head at point blank range.

Aside from the sounds of pain coming from the ISI man, silence settled in the room. Robin kept his submachine gun pointed at Picushkin and searched the Asian for a gun. The man was clean, but Robin found a passport identifying him as Bao Ma Teo, a Chinese citizen. He also searched the ISI man. He had no more weapons, but Robin removed a cell phone from his coat pocket.

Picushkin looked at Alex and smiled. “Well, Alex, I must admit you moved much faster than I expected.”

“I'm taking you back to Russia.”

“Oh, I don't think so. All I have to do is push the pound key on this satellite phone and a signal will be sent to a backpack nuclear bomb in the main nuclear weapon storage facility at Saratov-63. Do you know what that would mean?”

“Worse than Tunguska.”

“Very astute, my boy, very astute! And of course you can't kill me, because you need what I know. So we have a predicament.”

Robin pretended to be occupied with putting plastic handcuffs on his prisoners. His mind raced, weighing the odds of a shot to knock the phone out of Picushkin's hand. He had to get far enough to the right to take the shot without hitting Picushkin in a vital area…and he had to be sure he could do it. If he missed, a whole bunch of Russian people would disappear. He made it to a position where the phone was clear of vital areas on Picushkin's body. Robin breathed deeply and slowly. Slow is smooth, smooth is fast.

Picushkin continued to taunt Alex. “Maybe you should call your dear Yosef and get some direction on what you should do, Alex. There is so much and so many lives at risk…”

Robin's hands and arms moved the MP5 smoothly to the shooting position as his trigger squeeze already started. By the time his sight picture settled where he wanted it, the trigger cleanly broke and two rounds smashed into the phone and Picushkin's hand. Robin came off the sights seeing Alex and Picushkin in what seemed like a slow motion ballet of Picushkin trying to catch the phone and Alex thrusting the butt of his MP5 into Picushkin's face. The former general went flying over the settee. Alex jumped over the furniture and quickly put plastic cuffs on Picushkin.

Robin moved to the center of the room so he could watch the other two men and give help to Alex if he needed it. He didn't. Alex rose up from behind the settee dragging Picushkin by the scruff of the neck. He threw the hapless general at the feet of the other two men.

Robin put his hand on this friend's shoulder. “You okay?”

“Yes, thanks to you. I made a stupid move by getting too close to him.”

“It's the end result that counts, my friend. I'm going to get Ahmed. I trust you can get the general to tell where the other two bombs are.”

“No problem.”

“I didn't think so.” Robin hurried up the stairs to the bridge. He reached down to open the hatch. “Ahmed, it's me, Rob. I'm opening the hatch.”

“Okay, Rob.”

Robin opened the hatch and Ahmed crawled out and immediately wrapped his arms around Robin. Robin could feel the boy shaking. “It's all right, Ahmed. We're getting out of here.”

Robin went over to the captain's chair and surveyed the controls and the instruments. He turned the engine batteries on, activated the power and began the startup procedure for the diesel. He cranked the engine and the instruments came to life all in the green.

“Ahmed, I hereby designate you the First Mate. Do you know anything about boats?”

“No, sir.”

“Well, just do as I say and you'll be fine. I want you to stay here and make sure the dials all stay in the green. If one doesn't and goes into the red, pick up the microphone and call my name. This is the boat's intercom and I should hear you.”

“Okay, sir.”

“Good boy. I'll be back in a couple of minutes.” Robin went back down the stairs and saw Picushkin bent over sobbing.

Alex looked at Robin. “The other two bombs are in the master stateroom in a compartment under the bed.”

“Roger.” Robin worked his way to the master stateroom, clearing every area along the way and after a brief search, found the compartment and removed the backpack bombs. There were also two large briefcases. Robin opened them and saw they were full of US dollars. He looked deeper into the compartment and found another briefcase. He opened it and an involuntary, “Son of a bitch,” fell from his lips. The briefcase contained the Soviet Union's order of battle for a nuclear war with NATO. Robin knew he had a real predicament. He shook his head.
How did I go from being a raggedy-assed street cop to being in possession of this pile of monstrosity?

He stood up and looked at the heap of backpacks and briefcases, wrestling with the conflicting loyalties inside of him. He rubbed his temples and stood still for a few moments. Then he reached down and picked up the backpacks and carried them back to the main salon. As he entered the salon his eyes met Alex's.

“You found them!”

Robin put the bombs down. “There's more. I'll be right back.” He went back and retrieved the two money cases.

“What is in those cases?”

“The general's loot. I've got one more to get.” Robin retrieved the case with the secret documents and brought them into the salon.

“More money?”

“No, we'll talk about this later.” Robin pulled Alex closer and whispered, “Get a hold of Yosef and see if you have any ships in the area. We have to get out of here immediately. I'll watch these morons.”

Alex gave Robin a puzzled look for a moment and then went into another room. He returned a few minutes later and leaned to Robin's ear. “There is a submarine two hundred and fifty miles away. It has been ordered to come to us.”

“I'm going to get this boat underway. I'll be back in a bit.” Robin went up the stairs.

“How we doing, First Mate?”

“Everything is green, sir.”

“Good.” Robin looked over the control panel again. He sat in the captain's chair and engaged the forward gear. The boat started slowly forward. “Okay, Ahmed, keep the bow of the boat headed toward the bay entrance. I have to go forward and stow the anchor. Watch me and when I hold my fist up like this, you ease this lever to the neutral position. Understand?”

“Yes, sir.”

Robin hurried forward and looked over the bow, stepping on the switch for the anchor winch and the anchor started rolling in smoothly. He raised his fist and the forward motion of the boat slowed to a stop. The anchor soon came up and locked itself into place at the tip of the bow. Robin hustled back to the bridge and put the engine back in gear, pushing the throttle forward. “Okay, Ahmed, steer for the bay entrance again.”

He went to the stern and loosened the motor boat the ISI man came in. When it floated a safe distance from the swim platform, he tied it off. The boat now trailed behind the yacht by a short distance. He surveyed the bay and saw no activity indicating anyone chased after them. He went back to the main salon and pulled Alex aside.

“We're probably going to have company in a while. We need to get the bombs and cases near the stern.”

“Why?”

“This yacht isn't built for speed. We can't outrun anything. If we get chased before the sub gets to us we could be screwed.”

“I wonder how long before the ISI misses their man?”

“I don't know, but I do know we have things the ISI, the CIA and your government wants and not for the same reasons. We've got to get to that sub or things could get ugly.”

Alex studied Robin's face. “You're a complicated man, my friend.”

“Jesus, you're beginning to sound like my wife! Look, I'm going to move all this stuff to the transom. If we see anything suspicious, we'll put this thing on auto pilot, load up the motor boat and head out to sea and hopefully the sub. You with me?”

“Indeed I am.”

F
ORTY
-T
HREE

BURKE JAMISON LISTENED CAREFULLY
to the air as he stood on the tarmac of the Saidu Sharif airport near Mingora, Pakistan. He thought he could he could hear a faint rumble of a multi-engine aircraft. He turned to Ernie Jackson who stood next to him.

“Hear that?”

“Yeah, they're coming.” Ernie turned to First Sergeant Setchinko. “Sergeant, get your men ready.”

“Yes, sir.”

The rumble grew louder and the team quickly prepared their vehicles to load onto the planes. Then the rumble ceased. Burke strained to listen and was jolted as an AN-12 appeared out of the darkness and screeched onto the runway. One half of the team started their vehicles and raced after the plane.

Burke caught a light out of the corner of his eye, turned and saw headlights coming toward the airport. Then blue lights lit up on top of the car. “Shit!” Burke jumped out of the Land Rover and started running toward the police car.

“I'm behind you, Burke!” Mike Collins yelled.

“Just knock ’em out! Don't kill them!”

“Roger!”

Burke began waving his arms and yelling in Arabic. The police car stopped and Burke went up to the driver's door and started saying he needed help. He saw Mike come out of the shadows behind the passenger. When Mike reached the door post, Burke grabbed the driver around the neck with his right arm and opened the door with his left, dragging the officer out of the car. He punched a power syringe into
the officer's neck. The man struggled for a few seconds and then went limp.

“Mike, you okay?”

“Yeah, I'm good here.”

Burke looked in the car and heard someone calling frantically on the radio. “We better get out of here. We're going to have company soon.”

The two men ran back to the rest of the team. The first AN-12 took off. As it lifted and flew away, Burke could hear sirens in the distance. The second AN-12 came in for a landing.

“Come on, move it!” The team sped to the second plane. It spun around at the end of the runway as its cargo door lowered. Burke saw multiple flashing blue lights coming to the airport. He jumped out of the Land Rover. “Get in the airplane!” He yelled at Mike. Burke knelt down as a police car charged toward the plane. He fired a good burst from this Colt Commando at the engine of the car. The police car braked hard, did a sharp turn and sped away, steam coming from the engine compartment. The other police cars stopped moments later.

Burke heard the plane go to full power. He jumped up and ran for the ramp. A bullet went by his left ear. Mike and Emmett were at the end of the ramp which slowly rose up. Burke slung his carbine and sprinted as fast as he could go and grabbed Mike's waiting hand. He felt the strength of Emmett's huge arms grab and pull him onto the raising ramp. The angle of the ramp reached a point where all three men rolled down it onto the cargo deck in a heap. As the plane lifted off, they looked at each other and broke out in a fit of laughter.