Operation Caribe - By Mack Maloney Page 0,2

tips, the hook’s functions were limited to pinch and release and little more.

Team Whiskey had reunited six months before, and eventually reinvented themselves as an anti-piracy outfit. Banking on their special ops skills and far-reaching connections, they had delivered in a very short time results that were nothing short of fantastic. They’d fought two small wars against a powerful Indonesian pirate named Zeek Kurjan, finally killing him and destroying his large seafaring gang. They’d recovered a multimillion-dollar Indian Navy warship after Somali pirates had hijacked it near the Maldives. They’d saved a cruise liner full of Russian mafia bosses from a mass-poisoning attempt in the Aegean Sea, and they were believed to have been involved in the recovery of a unique multi-billion-dollar microchip buried on an uncharted island off East Africa.

Their success had brought them much wealth—and a reputation for being able to handle virtually any job. They were also undeniably American in looks and demeanor. Hard-bitten, hard-drinking, cynical, bitter—and very tough. Though they were all in their late 30s, each man looked old beyond his years.

The prince finally addressed them. “I admire your past accomplishments. You’ve done some brave and amazing things in the past few months. In fact, from what I’ve heard, someone should make a movie of you. But I must be clear: We are in an entirely different situation at the moment, one that is only matched by the unusual circumstances that led me to ask you here.”

“And what are those exactly?” Nolan asked him.

“That’s my LNG ship out there and I want it back,” el-Saud told them. “But obviously, considering the cargo it’s carrying, there can be no gunplay involved in its recovery. One bullet in the wrong place and the whole ship and everything around it will explode like an atomic bomb. So…”

The prince nodded to his aides. They wheeled in a laundry cart carrying four enormous satchels. Each looked to weigh a couple hundred pounds at least.

“This is the ransom,” he said. “Two hundred million dollars—all in five-hundred-dollar bills, just as the pirates demanded. All I want you to do is deliver this to them so I can get my ship returned to me.”

The team was bewildered.

“You called us here just to deliver a ransom?” Nolan asked.

The prince nodded. “The pirates refuse to allow any military to be involved. No U.N. No Red Cross. I need someone I can trust to handle such a large amount of money. And besides…”

He let his voice trail off.

“Besides what?” Nolan asked.

“Besides, one of the pirates’ demands is that you make the ransom transfer.”

Nolan was taken aback. “Us, specifically?”

“Yes, by name,” el-Saud said. “They are insisting that you and your associates act as the middlemen, or there is no deal.”

“This smells like a setup,” Nolan said.

“That’s because it is,” the prince said bluntly. “Like everyone else around the Indian Ocean, these pirates know who you are and what you’ve done. We’re listening in on their radio transmissions. Your names have been mentioned; your history has been discussed. I don’t have to tell you how these pirates feel about you. You’ve killed their brothers, their cousins. So, they’re probably going to kill you once the ransom is delivered, just to increase their reputation in the pirate underworld.”

Nolan almost laughed. “Let me get this straight,” he said. “These mooks say the only way they’ll release the ship is if we deliver the ransom to them. And the reason they want us to do it is so they can kill us and increase their street cred. Yet, we won’t be allowed to take any firearms with us to protect ourselves?”

Everyone at the other end of the table nodded. “That’s it in a nutshell,” el Saud said.

“And actually, gunplay will be impossible,” Colonel Zamal interjected. “The pirates are being very aggressive about searching anyone coming aboard. They even brought metal detecting wands with them. It would be impossible to carry a firearm aboard that ship.”

“How do you know all that?” Nolan asked him.

For the first time, Zamal indicated the man in the doctor’s scrubs. “They allowed Dr. Bobol here aboard to treat one of the pirates injured in the takeover. He went over in the Spanish ship’s helicopter. Tell them your experience, Doctor.”

“I was frisked three times,” Bobol said. “Then I was buzzed with wands another three times. They did everything short of molesting my private parts and doing a full cavity search. They, on the other hand, are heavily armed and seemed quite willing to shoot me had I stepped