Arabian Storm (The Hunter Killer Series Book 5) George Wallace (the little red hen ebook .TXT) 📖

only thing the world knew for certain was that a sanctified vessel, an anointed ship doing wonderful work to try to save the planet from evil polluters and capitalists, was gone without a trace. And everyone was clamoring for information, demanding an explanation for the disappearance. Reporters had nothing new to write about so, with editors demanding copy, they actually began to dig deeper into the story. One intrepid Reuters hack, putting together the Ocean Mystery’s history, found that although the research vessel flew the United Nations flag, it was actually owned by Samuel Talbot. He was valid click-bait for a thirsty public anxious for any new angle on the story. Talbot was a reclusive multi-billionaire with a rather murky past and unclear citizenship. He was known to fund myriad far-out causes, some of which seemed to be on opposite sides, but research could find none even remotely concerned with the environment or manmade climate change.

Then an independent reporter, working as a stringer for the Associated Press, found that many of the ship’s crew had ties to Israel. Just to add spice to his story, the reporter alluded to evidence of possible Mossad connections. That revelation set off a whole new round of speculation and recrimination.

The Iranian government immediately announced that Ocean Mystery was certainly an Israeli—and thus, by association, a CIA—spy ship. They demanded that Israel be condemned by the General Assembly for “conducting war-like espionage operations” against Iran in their coastal waters of the Arabian Sea. The Iranian ambassador was red-faced as he pounded on the podium with both fists to emphasize his demands and to threaten swift, violent retaliation.

The Israeli ambassador had, even before the Iranian claims, already denied any connection with the Ocean Mystery. He accused the Iranians and their allies, and perhaps even the Russians, of attacking and destroying an innocent, unarmed research ship to deflect attention from all the other hot spots in the region. Pandemonium broke out in the august body as the US ambassador backed the Israelis and joined in condemning the Iranians.

And the press, with no real news to report, breathlessly covered all the blaming and bluster. The story had shifted from a humanitarian search-and-rescue operation to one of high political drama and international intrigue, further nurtured by crazies from all directions with their wild theories.

Ben Tahib, once again contemplating his Pulitzer, book contract, and movie deal, decided to do a little sleuthing of his own. With over thirty years’ experience reporting on the cauldron of Middle Eastern politics, the Al Jazeera reporter had more than a few friends in key positions and hard-earned chits that he could call in from most of the governments directly involved. A few phone calls and the Mossad connection fell apart. However, the Samuel Talbot angle appeared to have legs but was infinitely more difficult to track down. The man was famously reclusive and clearly had the money and resources to remain so. Even if a reporter could track him down, Talbot had never been known to grant an interview.

But Tahib did pick up hints and whiffs of tenuous Talbot connections with various intelligence operations around the world, particularly those in the Middle East. It was time to go to the deepest recesses of his contacts list, to make some calls to some very dangerous people.

His first call was to a connection within the Saudi Secret Service, a mid-level agent who Tahib had once helped out of a nasty situation. The man was apologetic but not very helpful.

Next on the list was an ISI general, an important man with a fondness for Riviera casinos where he usually managed to lose large amounts of money in an evening. Somehow, though, even on a military salary, paying his gambling debts never seemed to be a problem for the general. But if the Pakistani government ever found out that bribes from French arms manufacturers and German military vehicle companies paid for the man’s baccarat habit, prison might well be the best fate for which the general might hope.

At first, the Pakistani general refused to talk. He instead offered Tahib a stake at the dice tables in Monte Carlo, free lodging for a few days on the yacht of an acquaintance, cooperative companionship included. But the reporter reminded the general of the story he had written years before, an exposé that remained safely on his hard drive in a secret location along with all the evidence that was needed to back it up.

There had been fear-tinged silence for a bit on the other end of the telephone line. Then the Pakistani military man uttered only one word:

“Nabiin.”

And the line went dead.

Ψ

Commander Brian Edwards stood in the middle of the George Mason’s control room, watching his crew as they operated the Virginia-class submarine’s sophisticated sensor system. Edwards told himself once again just how fortunate he was to be able to command the most capable warship on the planet. This technological marvel could even give the Starship Enterprise a run for its money if Captain Kirk’s vessel happened to make an appearance on twenty-first-century Earth.

The banks of computer screens flickered away, showing every ship and noise in the ocean within a hundred miles of the George Mason. None of them were of any particular concern to Edwards or his crew. The nearest ship was a large tanker over to the northeast. She might possibly come within a couple of miles if neither ship changed course in the next hour. Other than that, Edwards’s boat pretty much had this bit of the Indian Ocean all to herself.

Life had been especially quiet for the submarine lately. Probably too quiet. Especially since they rounded the Cape of Good Hope and steamed up to their current position almost five-hundred miles due south of the Indian subcontinent. The only bit of interesting activity had been a Chinese surface action group exiting the Straits of Malacca. Naval Intelligence thought the SAG might be headed up into the Arabian Sea. Edwards and the George Mason