Eric Meyer’s Dirty Dozen: Twelve Short Stories of War in Iraq and Afghanistan

By Todd McLeod and Eric Meyer

A blockbusting collection of no less than TWELVE Short Stories. This is war fiction at its punchiest and best, including stories from Hawkins’ Heroes, SEAL Strike, Tank Platoon and Desert Strike. Why buy one, when for a low price you can download the entire compilation. That’s right, twelve stories at an unbeatable price.

TANK PLATOON: FOR HONOR AND GLORY
The invasion of Iraq is underway, and PFC Carl Yeager, an M1 Abrams driver, is about to experience the hell of the Second Gulf War. Battling the much-vaunted Republican Guard, an elite force equipped with hundreds of Russian supplied T-72 main battle tanks.

RULES OF ENGAGEMENT: DESERT STRIKE
Army Ranger Rod ‘Rottweiler’ Weller leads a four-man fire team. They’re a band of brothers, a brotherhood that is at breaking point after one of the team, Duane Slater, left them to die.

SEAL STRIKE: BLACK SEA TERROR
Tony Chase, SEAL Master Chief leads a small SEAL unit, based aboard a US Navy Littoral Support Ship. Just returned to duty after serious injury following a car crash, he has two battles to fight. His number two is sore he didn’t get promoted, but the real battle is in the Black Sea.

SEAL STRIKE: NIGHT HUNTERS
When a bloodthirsty band of Taliban commanders escapes from prison, a SEAL unit led by Master Chief Tony Chase is called in to track them down. All of them under sentence of death for mass murder.

SEAL STRIKE: NUCLEAR STORM
Iran, a nation ruled by the Ayatollahs, fanatics who yearn to possess nuclear weapons. Their latest act of madness is the construction of a nuclear weapons plant in the north of the country. To avoid nuclear war, it must be destroyed without suspicion falling on America.

SEAL STRIKE: BLITZ ON BEIRUT
Whilst on patrol aboard the Littoral Combat Ship USS Springfield, SEAL Master Chief Tony Chase and his team are called to an emergency briefing. A group of Lebanese Christian rebels has discovered Russian-built ballistic missiles deployed in their country.

HAWKINS' HEROES: BAPTISM OF FIRE
Eddie Hawkins is part of a four-man crew, the cupola gunner on a Humvee in Afghanistan. His job, firing the .50 caliber Browning. His mission, to protect his buddies and kill the enemy.

HAWKINS' HEROES: HELL'S HIGHWAY
Ordered to accompany a combat engineer to give covering fire while he clears a dangerous highway of IEDs, a brutal, bullying Master Sergeant gives him the wrong route.

HAWKINS' HEROES: CAULDRON OF FIRE
Leading a training mission into a dummy Afghan village, things go disastrously wrong after a foul up by an Intelligence Major. As if it couldn’t be worse, the officer intends to make amends for his mistake and leads them back into the heart of the enemy.

HAWKINS' HEROES: INFERNO
Pfc Eddie Hawkins has two passions in life. First-person shooters and his job as a cupola gunner in a Humvee in Afghanistan. His weapon is a Browning .50 calibre, and Eddie has acquired a reputation for his deadly skills with the heavy machine gun.

HAWKINS' HEROES: THE ENEMY WITHIN
Eddie recognized a hostile when he sees one, and he does not hesitate to open fire on a vehicle inside the Bagram perimeter fence.

HAWKINS' HEROES: COUNTERPUNCH
The loss of their Humvee in a surprise ambush results in his crew being stood down. The word is things have gone quiet, and they relax. Yet he is convinced the enemy is building their strength for a new offensive

• Language: English
• Publisher: Swordworks Books
• Release date: Oct 25, 2019
• ISBN: 9780463535349

Book preview

CHAPTER ONE

They were standing in front of the burning wreckage of the Syrian missile battery, built to defend Damascus from air attack. The Krug 2K11 was a medium-range, medium-to-high altitude surface-to-air missile (SAM) system, and it had failed. When the American and Israeli fighter-bombers came, they attacked with impunity, firing their missiles and brushing aside the air defense system, which now lay in ruins.

Russian Ambassador Yuri Karamazov waited for Syrian General Ali Hafiz to open the negotiations. They regarded the heap of twisted, still-smoking metal, wiring, and rubber that represented a large investment by Syria in modern weapons and proved to be useless.

We need more air defense firepower to defend ourselves from the American and Israeli jets. Your country should send more planes to help us do this.

Ambassador Yuri Karamazov shifted his bulk and raised his black, bushy eyebrows. General, Moscow has told me they cannot commit more resources to your country. We have already taken losses in men and equipment, and we cannot sustain such a drain on our country. Unless…

Hafiz, a slim, erect, and dangerous looking Arab, stared at him through hooded eyes, waiting for what he hadn’t said. Unless, Ambassador?

A shrug. There is a possible solution, although the cost would be heavy. We have upgraded our S-400 missile batteries, and they are now more powerful and accurate than before. In addition, we have equipped them for a multi-role mode.

Would you care to explain?

Yes, they will of course shoot down enemy aircraft, and they are almost impossible to avoid. But there is so much more. These upgraded S400s can strike targets at long distance with great precision. Targets like Tel Aviv, and with the right warhead, they will cause immense destruction to your Israeli neighbors. Should you wish to take such a course.

We could attack Israel?

Another shrug. Of course, but as I said, only if you wish. Once you select the correct coordinates, and nothing can stop them.

How soon can you supply these S400s?

The Ambassador looked anxious. You do understand we are talking theoretically?

I asked how soon.

He let out a breath. We have a ship docked in the Black Sea port of Novorossiysk, the Krasny Baku. This vessel had already loaded several of these batteries for another customer. Although we could tell them there is a delay.

He dangled the bait tantalizingly in front of the Syrian. Hafiz was no fool. He knew the Russians had anticipated their need, and the missile batteries were loaded and ready to embark. But the cost would be extremely high.

What about delivery?

Karamazov smiled like a bazaar merchant haggling the sale of a rug. Theoretically, we could convey them to your port of Latakia on the Mediterranean, by way of the Dardanelles. A journey of two or three days, no more.

Hafiz nodded. Now for the hard bargaining. And in return? What are you asking, what is the price for these missile batteries?

The Russian’s smile broadened. General, our nations are allies. What are friends for?

The price, Ambassador? What is the price?

We require an option on your oil. Fifty percent of your national output at a discount rate for the next twenty-five years.

Hafiz felt stunned. The Russian was talking about billions and billions of dollars. On the other hand, he had a country to save. If they lost the war, they’d lose everything. There was also the question of Israel. If they had the ability to reduce Tel Aviv to rubble, the Jews could be forced out of the Middle East. Syria would become the dominant force in the Middle East.

He put out a hand. Ambassador, we have a deal. There is one condition. These missiles are so vital to my country, I insist on traveling with the ship.

He smiled. You will be welcomed on board as an honored guest.

* * *

Captain Samuel Starr, the gruff, leathery-faced skipper of U.S.S. Springfield, returned the salute from Master Chief Tony Chase, back to the command of Chase Team, following his recovery from injury. A car accident in which his wife died, and not a day had gone by since then when he didn’t wish he’d died with her. The small SEAL unit stationed on board the Littoral Combat Ship U.S.S. Springfield included PO1 Earl Patterson, who’d assumed command during Chase’s recovery. Wiry and thin, he was driven to make a success of his Navy career, and he’d go to any length to do it. He’d made it clear Chase had returned too soon and wasn’t ready for active service. Chase didn’t agree. Patterson wanted to take command and promotion. Tennessean PO3 Morgan Cassidy, the unit joker, and PO3 Don Withers, the silent, laconic West Virginian, were the other Team members. They were standing before the mission board while Starr’s Exec, Commander Tim Richmond waited to begin.

Gentlemen, we’ve just received new orders from the Pentagon, and it means you have a new and vital mission. You may have noticed we altered course, and we’re heading toward the Black Sea.

Morgan Cassidy, short and almost as swarthy as his dark eyes, cracked a joke in his Tennessean twang. Does this mean we’re gonna attack Russia?

Richmond kept a straight face. It does not, although the Russians are involved. We received a request from the Israelis for help, and it concerns a ship that set sail several hours ago from the port of Novorossiysk on the Black Sea. She’s a fleet support vessel named the Krasny Baku, carrying several batteries of advanced S-400 missiles in the holds. The vessel is headed for the Syrian port of Latakia, and if they reach it, the implications are more than serious.

I didn’t think the S400s were anything special, Chase interrupted. He was tall, almost towering over his Team, and his lean face still bore the scars of the accident.

Richmond nodded. Hear me out. These new missiles have a much longer range and can carry more powerful warheads than their predecessors, NATO code named the Growler. They’re a huge threat to our aircraft and can even target Israel. I’m talking Tel Aviv, and other major population centers. The Israelis have asked for help, and the President says it’s a go. We cannot allow those missiles to reach Syria. Your mission is straightforward. Sink that ship.

No sweat, but why the Black Sea? Why not sink them in the Mediterranean? Or use a cruise missile.

He suppressed a smile. This has to be done so they can’t attribute it to us. Which means the Black Sea to avoid suspicions of Sixth Fleet involvement. Although if the shit hits the fan, they’ll be standing by for us. The story we’ve put out is we’re sailing into the Black Sea on a short goodwill mission to the Ukraine. When we’re through the Dardanelles you'll launch your SDV, while we continue to the Ukraine to make it look genuine. It’s a short visit, just a few hours. You’ll attack the Krasny Baku prior to entering the Dardanelles Strait and send it to the bottom. Any questions?

How do we get back to the Springfield if you've sailed on to the Ukraine? We can’t stay submerged forever.

You’ll surface and wait off the Turkish coast until we return, around twenty-four hours after the attack. We’ll send you a signal, you sail out to meet us, and we can all go home.

Chase looked dubious. If the Turks find out what’s going on in their backyard, they won't be impressed. A direct attack on the Springfield isn’t out of the question.

Captain Starr intervened. Master Chief, they can try it if they’re feel lucky, but we can take care of ourselves. This ship has the armament to deal with any attack, and then some. I’m talking about a 57mm gun, a Raytheon SeaRAM Close in Weapons system, four .50 caliber guns, two 30mm Mk44 Bushmaster II guns, and twenty-four Hellfire missiles. If that’s not enough, we'll have the Sixth Fleet around the corner, the most powerful military force in the region. If we call for help, they’ll send in the cavalry, by way of a squadron of F/A 18s. Screw the Turks. Sink that ship, lie low for a few hours, and we’ll pick you up. It’s a good plan, and you’re the guys that can make it work.

Chase was a veteran of more operations than most, and he recalled the old saying. ‘Plans are the first casualty of war.’

But orders are orders, and if they want that ship sunk, we’ll sink it. Period. A farewell wave from the U.S. Navy SEALs.

When is zero hour, Captain?

"The clock is already ticking. The Krasny Baku has sailed, and we're about to navigate the Strait. Prepare your gear, Master Chief. You launch in five hours.

* * *

The Krasny Baku plowed through the choppy waters of the Black Sea, and Captain Boris Severin checked the radar plot to confirm their position. They were nearing the Turkish coast, and soon it would be time to heave to while they waited for a slot to navigate the narrow, overcrowded waterway. He nodded a greeting to his first officer, Andrei Zander, as he entered the bridge. The Syrian, General Ali Hafiz, ignored him, staring out to sea.

Captain, First Officer reporting for the next watch.

Acknowledged, Andrei. I could so with some sleep, but I’ll stay until we’ve navigated the Strait.

Zander glanced at the air defense radar screen. Any sign of enemy aircraft activity?

Severin shook his head. Nothing, and I don't anticipate any danger from the air, although I'm nervous about submarine activity. I've asked for a patrol boat to run interference, and it should arrive in the next few hours to escort us for the rest of the journey. While you’re on watch, make sure the sonar operator is awake. At least until the patrol boat arrives.

Sir, what if we detect anything underwater? What rules of engagement do we follow?

The Captain scowled. If we detect anything inside five kilometers, the order is to sink it. Use depth charges, and whatever you do make sure it doesn't get close. Take no chances. I don't care which flag it flies, even if it's one of ours. Sink it.

We will, Captain. If any vessel approaches underwater, it’s as good as dead.

Hafiz swung around, and his eyes were two pools of Arab hatred. Make sure of that. My country needs these missiles desperately. When we attack Israel, that hated country will at last reap its just reward.

Captain Severin cleared his throat. General, these missiles are intended for air defense, not to start a war. Russia is not at war with Israel.

Syria will deal with Israel. If an enemy vessel approaches your ship, blow them out of the water.

We will handle any threat, General, never fear. Like my first officer said, they are as good as dead.

* * *

Master Chief Tony Chase strolled along the deck, and he regarded the formidable armament of the Littoral Combat Ship U.S.S. Springfield. Captain Starr was right, they could take care of themselves against most enemies. And if an attack came in they couldn’t handle, the mighty Sixth Fleet was on standby to chew them up and spit them out. He climbed down the ladder into the hold where they'd prepared the SDV to go to sea. The other three SEALs were there, already kitted out and ready to go.

He pulled on his gear, the camouflage wetsuit, tanks, mask, and fins. Last, the weapons, carried in a waterproof rubberized kitbag. He climbed aboard the mini submarine, sitting in left seat, while Earl Patterson took the right. The other two SEALs balanced on the outside of the dark hull. There was no need for delay as the Springfield had slowed to a stop. The petty officer manning the winch took a call on the intercom and went to them.

Message from the bridge. The Krasny Baku has dropped anchor off the Strait, so it’s a go.

He acknowledged, the winch motors hummed, and the tiny craft descended into the black depths. Heading for the Russian ship they had orders to destroy. They had the means to do it, a magnetically attached explosive charge powerful enough to sink an aircraft carrier. He steered the SDV on its chosen course, and the electric motor propelled them silently through the water, toward the now stationary target.

He didn’t anticipate any problems, until he heard high-speed screws, and the unmistakable ping of underwater detection equipment. PO1 Earl Patterson spoke urgently in the strange tones dictated by the throat mikes.

Boss, we’ve been detected. I make it a fast patrol boat, and she’s running interference for that ship, no question. It's coming right at us.

Cut the engine, and we’ll sink to the bottom to ride this one out.

What if they drop depth charges?

Then we'll throw them back.

No one laughed. They were about to meet the enemy, and they were still a long way from the target. The SEALs would undergo their first test, and possibly their last. A moment later they heard the noise of something splashing into the water right above them.

Someone shouted, Depth charge!

Chase grimaced. As if they didn’t know. A moment later it exploded, and their world went mad.

CHAPTER TWO

The shockwave smashed into them, spinning the tiny submersible around, so it rolled upside down, righted itself, and it rolled again. They hung on, and it was like riding a bucking bronco in a rodeo competition. Tossed around like straw in the wind, Chase lost his grip. He had to kick hard with his fins to return to the SDV, which was still pitching and rolling violently in the massive turbulence kicked up by a continuous series of powerful shocks echoing from the seabed.

He managed to regain his seat just in time, as the nose tilted down, and the SDV plunged toward the bottom. He hauled back on the control column and managed to tilt the nose backup. The other SEALs were having trouble, but as they started to adopt a straight course, two more depth charges exploded, one either side. This time, he had no choice. The nose tilted up, and the tiny craft was heading toward the surface where it would be at the mercy of every gun the enemy ship could bring to bear. This time he did the opposite and deliberately headed for the seabed. Fighting the violently moving vehicle, he managed to make a reasonable descent and settled on the seabed. He cut the engine, and all they could do was wait it out.

When the noise of the patrol boat had died away, he started the engine and headed for the surface. It was still night, and if anyone had been watching, they wouldn’t have noticed the small, dark shape sitting low in the water, with just their heads above the surface so they could look around. The patrol boat was receding into the distance, and as they watched, they saw it maneuver for a grid search.

He looked at Earl Patterson. He’s gone for now, but he’ll be back. We need to get this done.

Are you sure about this? No one said anything about an escort, and this mission is looking like a washout. We should abort.

What’s got into you? Are you serious?

Damn right, I am. I’m not sure you didn’t return to duty too early, and I don’t want you making mistakes that get us all killed for no good reason.

You wanted the number one spot, isn’t that right, Earl? To be the man in charge, and promotion, isn’t that the truth?

His number two blanched. I should have been given the Team, sure, but that’s not the whole story. He pointed at the ship at anchor off the Dardanelles, lit up with navigation lights, Looking at that grid search, I doubt we could make it in time. Sooner or later they’ll cross our track, and they’ll have us. The bastards have better underwater detection equipment then we expected. They’ve sent out a sophisticated anti-submarine warfare vessel, and there’s not a damn thing we can do to stop him finding us again.

At least we don’t have aircraft to worry about.

Patterson looked up at the sky and cursed. We do have aircraft to worry about. That patrol boat must have launched a helicopter, and the bastard is coming straight for us. We have to dive now, get back to the bottom, and lie low.

Earl automatically hit the controls on his side of the craft to start the descent, but Chase grabbed the column and held it back. Belay that, we can’t hide that easily from a submarine hunter, and my guess is he’ll already have picked us up on surface radar.

Master Chief, we don’t have a choice.

We do have a choice. We can fight.

Fight! Are you serious?

Damn serious. Standby the surface-to-air missile, he’s going down.

This is stupid, Earl snapped, but he obeyed the order, hit the button to arm the missile targeting system, and locked on to the approaching rotorcraft. Two seconds later the missile was away. A sophisticated naval surface-to-air missile, miniaturized for the SDV, the deadly projectile streaked up toward the target at a closing speed approaching five hundred miles an hour. The explosion was massive, and Chase doubted they’d had time to send out an SOS.

Morgan Cassidy shouted from his position behind Chase, They’ll know we’re here, and that patrol boat will be back. We must forget it, there’s no way we can reach the Krasny Baku, not now. We have to abort.

He’d never aborted a mission in his life, and he wasn’t about to start now. But at the same time, the guy had a point. They were exposed, the enemy knew they were there, and any approach to the target vessel would be detected. He briefly considered swimming all the way, but they had a heavy magnetic mine to carry, and besides, approaching the target was one half of the equation. After they’d destroyed it, they’d need to escape back to the U.S.S. Springfield.

He saw it then, a slow-moving freighter, heading for the Dardanelles Strait. The vessel would be carrying low value cargo, like coal or possibly iron ore. It was on a course that would take it almost alongside the SDV, and he glanced across at Earl. We may have found a way past that patrol boat. He pointed to the freighter, It’ll reduce power soon, and we can use it as cover to take us in.

The other man looked dubious. You sure about that? It’s slowing, but maybe not enough for us to keep pace underneath the keel.

In that case, we’ll have to slow them down. Men, stand by to board.

They stared at him as if he’d gone crazy, but Chase was already throttling up to maximum speed. The submersible, capable of higher speed on the surface, surged forward until their speed matched that of the freighter. They could make out the name on the prow, the MV Oriel. He touched his transmit button.

Morgan, standby to send a line topside. I’ll lead the boarding party. Don, you stay with the boat, and make sure you always keep us alongside. We may need to make a hasty departure.

Cassidy fired a line up to side of the ship, and a moment later they were swarming up to the rail, after Chase’s warning not to shoot anyone. Don’t forget, these people are civilians.

They climbed onto the deck, and Chase led the charge up the ladder to the bridge. The Captain was an elderly man smoking a pipe and staring through the bridge window. He would be looking for a signal to proceed, and didn’t notice them first, but then they were amongst them. Three men in black, and if they needed any further confirmation the three were bad news, the Sig Sauer pistols with the bulbous suppressors pointed at them would have been enough.

Captain, we’re borrowing your ship. Don’t doing anything stupid, and you’ll have it back in a few hours.

His mouth opened, and the pipe fell to the deck, unnoticed. What you want me to do?

Just behave as normal. When do you expect to get the signal to travel through the Strait?

A shrug. The signal should come through in the next hour, but why is it important?

You don’t want to know. Just do as you normally do. Do you see that ship out there?

The Russian fleet supply ship? She’s the Krasny Baku, of course I see it.

If it moves into the Strait, follow it.

Follow it? I cannot do that without permission of the Turkish pilot authority.

You’ll do it, otherwise we’ll take control the ship and do it ourselves, and the chances are we’ll run your vessel aground. It’s your choice, Captain.

His mouth had finally closed as he got over his shock. I will follow the ship, but don’t blame me if the Turkish Navy fires on us.

It won’t.

Morgan Cassidy had been patrolling around the deck, looking for any sign of opposition. He was also looking out to sea, and the message came into Chase’s earpiece.

The patrol boat is coming back, Boss. Do you reckon they know something’s up?

We just shot down their helicopter, so yeah, I’d guess they know, unless they’re blind. We’re not out of trouble yet.

They watched the patrol boat draw near, and it dawned on them they were about to board the freighter. Someone had fired that missile, and they’d check out every vessel in sight until they found them. The Russian kept pace, and the message came over the radio. MV Oriel, you are ordered to heave to and stop. If you hold your present course, I will open fire.

The Captain looked at him, and he nodded. Do as he says.

The throb of the engines died away, and the freighter came to a stop. The patrol boat stood off one hundred meters away, and Earl Patterson stared at it in consternation. That’s no patrol boat. It’s an anti-submarine corvette, a Grisha Class. That thing has guns, missiles, torpedoes, you name it.

I see it, Chase nodded, They’ll send over a boarding party to search the ship. As long as they don’t find the SDV, all we need do is hide. Captain, can you help us?

He grimaced. You men are pirates, but still I will help you. I am a Ukrainian, as are my crew. We hate the Russians, so anything we can to do hinder them we will do.

Somewhere to hide is all we want.

He pointed to the door at the back of the bridge. Go through there, and you will see a ladder that will take you down past the decks to the bilge area. There is always water, and it is very dark, so if you swim under the surface, they won’t find you.

It’s appreciated, Sir.

They ran down the steel staircase, all the way into the bowels of the ship, and reached the bilges. The oily water lapping at the bottom was dark and menacing, and it looked more like oil than water, but with no other choices, they plunged in and swam beneath the surface. Even wearing scuba gear the stench was terrible. They waited in silence, each man watching and waiting for discovery, their guns held ready.

CHAPTER THREE

Chase gave it a half hour until he climbed out of the water. They were alone, with no sign of Russian sailors poking around. Stealthily, he led the way back up the steel staircase and pushed open the door in the rear of the bridge. The man who watched him push through wore the uniform of the Russian Navy, and he reacted fast. His AKM assault rifle swung around, but he wasn’t fast enough. With no choice, Chase fired a single shot, a muffled ‘thud,’ and the bullet took him in the chest.

He slumped to the floor, and the SEAL rushed forward to make sure. There was no need. A heart shot is inevitably fatal.

Mister, I’m sorry, there was nothing I could so. The Captain looked terrified, They were suspicious, and they left a search party on my ship.

A search party? How many men?

Four. The other three are below decks, searching the cabins.

And the patrol boat?

He pointed. Heading toward the Strait, probably to check for underwater threats. The Krasny Baku is still at anchor.

He nodded. That means we still have time. He looked at the other two SEALs. We don’t have any choice now. When they realize this guy is missing, they’ll tear the ship apart to find the guys who did it. We have to disable those three men, and plant the mine on the Krasny Baku before that Grisha reaches the end of the search grid and heads back. The clock’s ticking, guys. It’s time to earn our pay. We’ll find those Russians first and then head for the target before it’s too late. Spread out, and call in when you have something.

They split up, and Chase went back down the staircase, stopping at the first deck he reached. A narrow passage ran between the rows of cabin doors, and he started along it. In time for two Russians to emerge from a cabin halfway along where they’d been searching. The wetsuit was a giveaway, and the Sig Sauer confirmation that this was enemy action. They swung their rifles around, and he threw himself flat as bullets whistled past him. He took aim and snapped off three shots. One man went down, but the other dove back into the cabin, and the door slammed shut.

He went after him, reached the door, when Earl Patterson came around the corner and stepped over the body. I heard shooting, what’s up?

Inside the cabin. One man, one assault rifle, and he’ll be nervous as hell. We have to take him down or he could alert the Russians.

He glanced at the door. What’s the plan, Boss?

Only one way to play it. Open the door wide, and let him fire a few rounds, then dive inside and hit the deck. Before he knows what’s happening, we’ll pump a few shots at him.

Roger that. I’ll go in first. You get the door.

Negative, you get the door. He’s mine. Do it.

Earl put a hand on the door handle and looked at Chase, who nodded. He flung the door open wide, and a spray of bullets spat out at them, like a score of venomous, hissing snakes. Except more lethal. Patterson fired three shots in the general direction of the shooter and stood back. Chase dove through the doorway, and he was spinning across the floor. Straight into a low table, bolted to the deck, and he grunted as his shoulder slammed into a metal strut.

The Russian was waiting for him, his eyes filled with shock and terror, and the muzzle of his rifle switched his aim from the doorway to the direction of the SEAL, lying prone on the floor two meters from him. The Master Chief brought up the barrel of the Sig, and they were both aiming at each other. He shook his head.

Don’t even think about it. Drop the rifle.

So you are an American. I can kill you before you get off a shot, so you drop the pistol.

I don’t think so, pal. If you wanna die, you go ahead, and try to take the shot.

Why should I not?

Because I’ll fill you full of holes the moment you move. His gaze switched to the doorway, and Earl had his Sig pointed at the guy’s belly. Chase took aim at his head. The man told you to drop it.

He dropped the rifle. Like most Russian servicemen, he would have been a conscript. Why should he commit suicide for a nation that paid him peanuts, and often failed to do even that? Chase scooped it up and pushed him out of the door, back up to the bridge. Cassidy was already back, a satisfied grin on his face. What took you so long?

You got him?

I got him. What about his guy? He inclined his head at the prisoner, Why’s he still breathing?

We may get some information out of him. He glanced out of the bridge window, and saw the mission starting to unravel even more, if that was possible, She’s moving, the Krasny Baku. Heading toward the Strait, and in few hours, she’ll be out of reach.

There’s something else, Earl murmured, It’ll be daylight. We’re almost out of time.

How long?

Around two hours.

Captain, how long to get up with that ship?

A shrug. Perhaps two hours. Unless I go to full speed, in which case one hour, but we’ll burn a lot of fuel.

Make it one hour. Earl, before we start moving, get in the sea, and tell Don Withers what we’re doing. Tell him to secure the SDV to the hull out of sight and get up here. We may need him.

He waited until Earl called in. I got him. We’re on our way back.

Roger that. Captain, follow that ship!

He barked an order into the phone that connected him with the engine room, and the deck plates vibrated as the engine went to full ahead. The tired, old vessel even kicked up a small bow wave as it picked up speed. The Captain tapped him on the arm to get his attention.

We cannot do this. We do not have permission to enter the Strait.

He looked to all points of the compass, and apart from a coastal vessel moving slowly away from them, they were alone. Earl and Don arrived on the bridge. Anyone seen the Grisha?

Last I saw it was heading away from us. If we can catch up with that ship, we may yet make it.

He nodded. Captain, you have permission.

Who says so?

He held up the Sig. This says so.

They stayed on course. Heading for the Strait, and the target, the Krasny Baku, with its deadly cargo of missile batteries that could give the lunatics in Syria the means to devastate Tel Aviv. The MV Oriel plowed on, and even at full speed, it was no more than a whisker faster than the Russian. They started to catch up, but it’d be a close-run thing, and Chase was considering another problem. Planting a mine underneath a hull was SEAL 101. But doing it while a ship was underway was something else. Too many things to go wrong, and besides, they’d be operating in a crowded, shallow waterway. Not the best working environment for a mini sub.

He was more worried about the time. Even if they came close enough to the Russian to launch the SDV and deliver the mine, it’d be close to broad daylight. Their chances of being spotted were high. For a brief moment, he contemplated following them through the Strait to the Mediterranean and planting the mine there. But that wouldn’t work. Orders were orders. They said do it before the ship left the Black Sea. So they’d do it. Or die in the attempt. That’s what they trained for. That’s what they paid them for.

He glanced at Earl. How do you feel about planting the mine while the ship’s moving?

A shrug. It’s not the way the book says.

If it’s the only way, we’ll have to make it work.

It’s your call, Master Chief.

That’s right, it’s my call. He looked at Don Withers. How much air do you have left? You were down there a long time."

I’m almost on fumes. Maybe ten, fifteen minutes.

Okay, I want you and Morgan to stay on board and make sure the Captain doesn’t have second thoughts. And watch the prisoner, he could be useful.

You think so?

Maybe. Captain, how long ‘til we catch up with the Krasny Baku?

Ten minutes, no more.

Understood. When you get alongside, stay with her, about one hundred meters off her port side.

I understand. What about the other ship?

The Grisha? We’re hoping she’s gone off looking in the wrong place.

I meant the Turkish warship. He pointed, She’s coming out of Erdek Naval Base, no doubt to intercept us because we have no clearance. What do I do?

You do nothing. Stay on course, and don’t reduce speed, no matter what.

He grabbed a pair of binoculars and surveyed the distant ship. It was going to be a problem. A Turkish corvette, and it’d be armed with missiles, torpedoes, and a powerful deck gun. Even their heavy machine guns would be enough to turn the MV Oriel into so much scrap. He calculated distances, and it was still possible. But close. Very close, and close wasn’t good enough. The Krasny Baku was going down. He left the bridge and entered the radio room. The operator stared at him without speaking. Probably worried he was going to shoot him dead.

I need to make a call. He gave him the frequency, Set it up.

Yes, Sir.

Less than a minute later, he was addressing Captain Starr. Sir, we have a problem, and this is an open channel. Do you have eyes on our position?

We have a bird in the sky, and we can see what’s going on. What do you need?

Time, Sir. You can see we have an unexpected guest coming to the party?

We see him, how long do you need?

An hour.

We’ll do our best. Good luck.

Thank you, Sir.

* * *

On board the Springfield, Starr gave the order to go full speed and launch a Fire Scout, the unmanned autonomous helicopter developed by Northrop Grumman. The Fire Scout was designed to provide reconnaissance, situational awareness, aerial fire support, and precision targeting support for ground, air, and sea forces. Captain Starr watched it soar above the ship and head west, toward the coast of Turkey. Equipped with the precision guided ‘Advanced Precision Kill Weapon System,’ linked to a pair of Hellfire missiles, it should be enough to make the Turks think twice before doing something rash. If it didn’t, the Springfield was on the way, bringing its formidable armament to bear. Commander Richmond, his Exec, looked worried.

What is it, Tim?

A pause. Well, Sir, I’m wondering if this is starting to blow out of control. He grabbed for a handhold as the Littoral Combat Ship hit a big wave, running at full speed on an intercept course, I mean, Turkey is a NATO ally.

Anyone who threatens our people is a legitimate target. If they don’t pull back, they’re aiding the delivery of missiles to Syria, and assisting with a potential attack on Israel. It won’t happen on my watch, Commander. Do you understand me? Whatever it takes is what we do.

Yessir, I get it.

Get them to action stations. I want this ship closed up and ready if there’s a fight.

You think it could come to that?

Would you trust the Russians or the Syrians?

Nossir.

There’s your answer.

A moment later, the klaxon blared, and men ran to Quarters.

* * *

The Captain listened to the radio operator who’d raced onto the bridge of the MV Oriel and turned a sweating face to Chase. The warship is signaling for us to stop.

Keep your ship at full ahead. Don’t stop for anything.

But, he will open fire on us!

"Captain, if you slow this ship, I’ll open fire on you, and I’m a