“But our analysts tell us that the Mufti stands an even chance of winning anyway.”
“T
he President understands that, but he nevertheless has ordered absolutely no U.S. involvement until after the election.”
“There are backdoor channels we could use,” O’Quinn protested.
“It’s already been deemed too risky.”
Sandecker pulled the cigar from his teeth and examined the chewed end. “It’s the President’s mandate, O’Quinn, not mine.”
“But we can’t simply look the other way.”
“That’s why I called you here. You have intelligence contacts in the Mossad, I presume?” he asked.
“Yes, of course,” O’Quinn nodded.
Sandecker leaned over his desk, his bright blue eyes boring into the intelligence officer.
“Then I would suggest that you consider calling them and telling them where their missing tanker is located.”
58
RUDI GUNN HAD COMPLETED REPAIRS ON THE FAULTY AUV sensors by dusk, shortly before the Aegean Explorer reached its survey grid some twenty miles southeast of Çanakkale. The AUV was deployed, and the ship’s crew resumed their round-the-clock tracking schedule. By the time the midnight shift went on duty, the bridge had emptied to just the ship’s second officer and a helmsman.
The ship was cruising at a slow speed to the north when the helmsman suddenly gawked at the radar screen.
“Sir, a vessel has suddenly appeared off our port beam, less than a quarter mile off,” he stuttered excitedly. “I swear, she wasn’t there a minute ago.”
The bridge officer glanced at the radar scope, seeing a small amoeba of yellow light nearly merge with the center point, which represented the Aegean Explorer.
“Where on earth did she come from?” he blurted. “Right twenty degrees rudder,” he quickly ordered, fearful that the unknown vessel was on a perpendicular heading.
As the helmsman turned the ship’s wheel over, the officer stepped to the port bridge window and peered outside. The moon and stars were concealed by low clouds, draping the sea in darkness. Expecting to clearly view the lights of the nearby vessel, the officer was surprised to see only black.
“The fool doesn’t have her running lights on,” he said, searching the sea unsuccessfully for a shadow. “I’ll try her on the radio.”
“I wouldn’t advise that,” barked a crisp voice with the hint of a Hebrew accent.
The officer turned in shock to find two men dressed in dark camouflage entering the bridge from the starboard wing. The taller of the two men stepped forward, exposing a lean face blunted by a lantern jaw. The intruder stopped a few feet from the officer, leveling a light machine gun at his chest.
“Have your helmsman resume his course,” the commando said, a stern look from his dark eyes expressing his will. “There is no danger to your vessel.”
The officer reluctantly nodded to the helmsman. “Resume original heading,” he said. Turning to the commando, he stammered, “What are you doing on our ship?”
“I’m looking for a man named Pitt. Bring him to the bridge.”
“There is no one aboard by that name,” the officer lied.
The commando took a step closer.
“Then I will clear my men off and sink your vessel,” he threatened in a low voice.
The officer wondered if it was an idle threat. But a gaze into the battle-hardened eyes of the commando left no doubt that it was a possibility. Nodding sullenly, the officer relieved the helmsman at the wheel so he could retrieve Pitt. The second commando immediately fell in step behind the helmsman as he exited by a rear stairwell.
A few minutes later, Pitt was marched onto the bridge, a look of anger searing his drowsy eyes.
“Mr. Pitt? I am Lieutenant Lazlo, Israeli Navy Special Forces.”