Syren's Song (20 page)

“North first. I want infrared on that trawler. Then we'll check out the one to the east.”

The trawler to the east had closed to seven miles now while the trawler to the north was six miles away. The UAV sighted on the closer trawler, and the aviation technician began patching in the feed to one of the monitors on the bridge so Olivia could see what the UAV was recording in real time. The feed showed the darkened outlines of a few figures walking aft along the port side of the trawler to join more figures. Olivia blinked as the size of the ship seemed to change. She stood up to take a closer look at the monitor.

She had seen this happen just a few days ago. This was another trawler with stern doors. A small boat squirted from the trawler's stern like from a calving whale. Another part of the ship lit up as the contrail of a rocket blinded the UAV. Olivia and the bridge crew could see well enough from their vantage point to know that they were looking at a Sea Tiger attack.

“All ahead flank, right full rudder, come about to one-two-zero degrees!” she ordered as a small fireball lit the sky.

“Bridge, CIC. We've lost contact with the UAV,” came a voice.

Olivia knew what that meant. The Tigers had fired a tactical EMP, and the UAV was now dead and falling to the ocean, where it would sink to its final resting place.

“Speed?” she asked the helm.

“Forty knots. Forty-two. Forty-four.”

She had to hope they could outrace the small speedboat, which likely had its own EMP rocket launcher. Harrison checked the radar again.
Syren
would soon be in the vicinity of the second trawler. What if that too was a mother ship? “Security, this is the bridge, aft fire teams focus on the small speedboat approaching us from astern. Weapons free,” she ordered on the shipwide
intercom. The two fire teams took a few seconds to locate the small boats—the trawler had released a second one—with their NVGs. Both speedboats were heading straight toward
Syren
at top speed; then they started zigzagging.

Harrison kept a close eye on the radar and watched the boats' patterns. Her teams couldn't train their weapons on the small boats, which quickly closed to three miles. At this range
Syren
couldn't outrun a rocket. Harrison was about to order the forward fire team to train their weapons on the second trawler, now on
Syren
's forward port quarter, when light exploded from its deck—once, twice, and again. Olivia heaved a sigh of relief. Those weren't rockets. She was seeing the steady fire of a warship's main guns. The only warship in the area she knew of was
LeFon
, which must have changed her lighting pattern to imitate a trawler's. Otherwise she would have been running completely dark to minimize detection.

“Helm?”

“Fifty-one knots, ma'am!”

One of
LeFon
's shells hit close enough to a speedboat to capsize it. The other boat closed to two miles. The weapons teams managed to hit the speedboat, but two seconds too late. It had fired its rocket. The EMP detonated a mile from both
Syren
and
LeFon
. Sparks burst from the equipment on the bridge as the three crewmembers reflexively shielded themselves with their arms. The warship's gun went silent and the ship turned to starboard, out to deeper water. Harrison picked up the mike for the ship-to-ship radio, but it was dead. The shipwide intercom still worked, but
Syren
's radar had gone blind.

“Helm, follow
LeFon
but keep us at the current distance,” Harrison called before ordering the operations officer to gather damage control reports. Grabbing a large flashlight, she went onto the bridge wing and began flashing in code: “No radar. No comms. Request accompany
LeFon
.” She repeated the message several more times before she received a reply from the warship: “Take station three hundred yards to our port. We have no radar or comms either. Stand by.”

Two ships operating in such close quarters without modern communications or radar created a dangerous situation, but Harrison was far more worried about her captain and chief scientist. Their satellite phone could no longer communicate with
Syren
. They were stranded ashore, and she had no way to find them.

DAY 14
DAY 14

Mullaitivu District

S
tark felt oddly like Gandalf in
The Fellowship of the Ring
as he shepherded his little group toward the coast. Except the children under his protection were not hobbits but very real boys and girls. Using his translation app Warren had managed to inform them that the four adults were taking them to the ocean and their boat to save them from the Tigers. The children accepted that but said little in return.

They stuck close to the vegetation to avoid being spotted as the sun began to rise. The children tugged at Stark's clothing, begging him to stop. Stark finally gave in and let them rest. He had no more food to give them, but the CamelBaks still contained some water. It would have to be enough.

“How far, Golzari?”

Both Golzari and Warren pulled out maps. Golzari pointed to a spot, and Stark was dismayed to see that they would have to pass by a couple of villages and cross some roads, including the coastal highway where Stark and Warren had seen the convoy going south.

“Five miles as the crow flies. Maybe an hour and a half to two hours depending on our protectees,” Golzari said.

Stark just shook his head. There were too many unknowns. Would they encounter more patrols? What would happen if they reached the boat and it had been discovered? Were the children more at risk with them than they would be if left on their own here?
People in a nearby village would look after them
. Stark immediately dismissed that idea. These children had witnessed the horrors at the mine. The Tigers would never allow them to live.

He checked the map. The boat was in a heavily vegetated area, but the vegetation didn't extend all the way to their current location. They would benefit
from some cover for another three miles but would have to traverse one mile of open area until they reached the final mile with cover all the way to the water. He checked his watch, realizing they had already stopped for ten minutes. Time was not on their side.

“That's it, folks. No other options. We keep going until we get to the boat,” Stark said. “We carry the younger ones if we have to.”

Twice more they spotted patrols in the distance, but each time, fortunately, before they were seen. Their luck continued for the time being. After an hour they reached the open area. The thick vegetation stopped abruptly about twenty feet above the fields and a road. Half a mile away, between them and the next patch of vegetation, sat three trucks carrying twenty Tigers with drawn weapons. Stark and Golzari had faced this situation before, but they had had cover, there were no children with them, and they didn't face potentially hundreds of other soldiers converging on them.

The normally optimistic Warren, carrying one child on his back and another under his left arm, hung his head in resignation. Stark heard Melanie mutter something like “not again” as she took out a long-range lens in what she assumed would be her final photos of this mission.

Golzari just took a calm breath and assessed the situation. “End of the line, old man,” he said with a smile. “This isn't Old Mar'ib.”

Stark smiled back as he recalled that firefight—if one could smile about such a thing. It had been one hell of a battle. Stark and Golzari had literally been at each other's throats before the ambush. But the battle had forced them to work together and forged them into an effective team for the remainder of their respective missions in Yemen.

“What was it you said then, Damien? I thought it was the Alamo and you preferred the Siege of Malta?”

“Indeed. But this is no Siege of Malta. I can't think of any battle in history that would apply to the current situation,” the British-educated agent said.

Stark assessed the situation. If soldiers were posted here, it was likely that other trucks and soldiers were posted on the road north and south, to the west, and elsewhere. Stark closed his eyes for a few moments, enjoying the warmth of the midmorning sun and listening to the hard breathing of the children and the adults and the occasional click of Melanie's camera. He had a sudden memory of the first time he worked with Warren; it had been on the
Sea Fighter
project. Warren had tested positive during a random drug test. He had a thing for marijuana back then, and it had destroyed his
government career. Stark's eyes flew open.
Yes!
And he realized his hand had stopped shaking.

“Not history, Damien.
Movies
.”

“Movies aren't real, Connor.”

Stark handed his rifle to a surprised Melanie and removed his vest and blouse, giving those to her as well. He gave his backpack to Golzari.

“What are you doing?” Warren asked him.

“Damien, I believe your education is deficient in one area—American pop culture. Have you ever seen
The Breakfast Club
?” Stark asked.

“No,” Golzari said distastefully. “Why?”

“Oh, boss,” Warren interrupted. “You're not thinking of going Bender here. No, sir, we're in this together.”

“Who is Bender?” Golzari and Melanie asked simultaneously.

“Classic decoy move,” Stark answered. “Five kids are in detention. They escape the detention room and wander the halls; then they realize the assistant principal is about to intercept them. Bender starts yelling and singing, leading the assistant principal off in a different direction while the others get away.”

“You can't, boss,” Warren said. “I've heard you sing. They'll run in the other direction for sure.”

“Very funny, Jay. Golzari, get these people to your boat and then to either
LeFon
or
Syren
. As soon as I take off, follow the jungle north a few hundred yards. If the soldiers follow me, wait and then make the dash to the other side. Tell my XO to get the ship out of here and warn the Sri Lankan government about the hafnium mine and weapons. Got it?”

“Understood,” Golzari said. He knew Stark was following the only option available to them, whether or not it was viable.

Stark shook Jay's hand, but the big scientist pulled him closer and hugged him. “We'll come back for you,” he promised.

Then Stark looked at Melanie. “Save these kids,” he said. “And cut your ex-husband some slack. Try not to shoot him in the back. I hit him when I first met him too.” She couldn't suppress a wry chuckle. Then she raised her camera and took a photo of him in his black T-shirt and gray coveralls. He reached down to push something further down inside his right boot, then unholstered his Beretta and headed back the way they had come.

A few minutes later they heard three shots and then, in the distance, saw Stark running at full speed across the open field. Golzari carefully watched the
reaction of the Tigers. Their attention was focused completely on Stark, who was a mile away from them at that point. One of the men waved to the others, then all three trucks sped off in Stark's direction. Stark diverted into a rice paddy where the trucks would not be able to chase him. That meant the Tigers would have to pursue him on foot.

As soon as the trucks were well to the southwest, Golzari led the band on a direct path to the other side of the road. There were no other soldiers in the vicinity. They continued to hear gunfire. When they reached the cover that would shelter them on the final mile of their journey, Warren turned back one final time as he realized the gunfire had stopped.

LeFon
's RHIB

Golzari had come ashore in search of Gala and instead found himself playing nursemaid to a different scientist, nine children, and his ex-wife. Stark had left him with this mess, and he intended to have the American mercenary make amends—if he ever saw him again alive. He recalled the route he had taken after landing on shore, and thirty minutes later the group reached the water.

The RHIB was exactly where Golzari had left it. He cleared away the brush and then began inspecting the boat from stem to stern, from top to bottom.

“What the hell are you doing, Damien?” Melanie asked. “We can't waste time.”

“Patience, my love,” he said with a hint of sarcasm.

“I know what you're doing,” Warren said, sticking his hand into his bag of magic tricks. “Let me help.” He inserted a wand into his smart phone and began the same process he had used to find Melanie's equipment. Within five seconds he found what he was looking for inside the engine. He removed it, remarking on the simplicity of the homing device.

“So they've been here.” Golzari checked the fuel. “Still half a tank left. If you hadn't found that thing they would have tracked us right back to
LeFon
or
Syren
.”

“Want me to break it?” Warren asked, still admiring the craftsmanship, elegant in its simplicity.

“No, no. Hang onto it and don't lose it. I have an idea.” Golzari walked toward the muddy shoreline and saw a trio of deserted fishing boats anchored just offshore a few hundred yards to the south. He double-checked with his
binoculars, but there was no sign of people on the boats, nor did there appear to be anyone on the shore.

Warren continued trying to reach
Syren
on the satellite phone but finally gave up in frustration. “Hey, man, I can't reach the ship. My satellite phone is working just fine. Either the ship is gone, or they got hit with an EMP,” he said to no one in particular. Without Stark, Warren wasn't sure whom to report to.

“If we don't know where the ship is, then how do we find it?” Melanie asked as she distributed the last of the water to the children. “We can't take these children out in that boat without food or water. Have you ever seen the effects of dehydration?”

“Actually, Melanie, I have, and I'm quite aware of our predicament,” Golzari snapped. “Mr. Warren, would you kindly assist me in getting this boat in the water?” He added somewhat sheepishly, “I would be willing to entertain ideas on how to find the ships.”

“What if we don't look for
Syren
or
LeFon
?” suggested Warren.

“What do you mean?”

“I have the coordinates for
Asity
's position. Captain Stark told Commander Ranasinghe to hold that position.”

“How far?” Golzari asked.

“About forty nautical miles. Half a tank will give us fuel enough for that. If they're still at those coordinates, we should be fine.”

“Do we have any other option, Damien?” Melanie asked.

“None that I can think of,” he admitted. Stark had just sacrificed himself to give them this opportunity, and he was determined to take advantage of it. “Just point me in the right direction, Mr. Warren. Or do I call you Dr. Warren?”

“How about Jay?”

“Fine. Let's get going.” The boat had been too heavy for Golzari to bring all the way ashore, so he had fashioned a crude pulley system on one of the trees to get it part of the way out of the water before securing it and hiding it. Golzari released the line from the pulley, and the boat slipped down until it was floating freely. Warren held the boat still as Melanie lifted up the smaller children and gave the larger ones a hand into the boat. Once all nine were safely in, Melanie joined them and got them to lie down. Warren hoisted himself over the side, and Golzari followed quickly.

“See if the motor will start, Jay.” To the relief of everyone on board, it did. The Tamils apparently hadn't tampered with it, probably hoping for bigger game in the form of the large ships. Golzari eased the throttle forward, trying to ignore
the people jammed into the bottom of the boat like logs. The sea was calm, and as the boat slowly accelerated to ten knots the group barely felt the motion.

“Hey, why are we going toward those fishing boats?” Warren asked Golzari, keeping his rifle trained on the coast.

“Because you're going to start the engine on one of them.”

“What?”

As the RHIB closed on the fishing boats, Golzari pulled back the throttle and pulled alongside one of them. From this angle he could see shacks on the shore that likely belonged to the boats' owners. The shacks looked deserted too. Golzari was betting that these three boats had been abandoned when their owners were either killed or drafted by the Tigers.

Warren got onto the boat and effortlessly started the engine, though he noticed it only had a third of a tank of fuel.

“That doesn't matter. Does it have an autopilot?”

Warren went back into the pilothouse and gave a thumbs-up to Golzari. Melanie stood watch for any sign of Sea Tigers or the soldiers whom they had escaped.

“Put the homing device on board and set the autopilot for due south.”

The scientist smiled and quickly complied. Golzari kept the RHIB alongside until Warren accomplished his task and returned. When they separated from the fishing vessel, Golzari pushed the throttle forward and the RHIB pulled away. Warren gave him the heading, and Golzari steered course zero-eight-seven, looking back at the fishing boat now and then to ensure it was on course away from them. When he was certain that it was, he accelerated the RHIB to thirty knots.

They saw a few fishing boats on the horizon but managed to avoid encountering more Tigers for the seventy-five minutes it took to reach a worn-looking old freighter that was barely under way.

“Are you sure that's
Asity
? It would be a shame to board a Sea Tiger ship after coming all this way, Mr. Warren.”

Jay peered through the binoculars and confirmed that the ship was indeed
Asity
. Far better, though, was what he saw beyond her: two more ships, a smaller boxy one and the distinguished profile of an
Arleigh Burke
–class destroyer. “Whoo-wee,” he yelled. “Salvation!”

“Thank God,” Melanie said, relaxing against the gunwale.

Privately, Golzari doubted God had anything to do with it. They had been saved by Warren's equipment and by Connor Stark, who had given his life for twelve others.