Deadly Coast by R. E. McDermott Page A

disgorge their contents. There was a rattle of metal on metal, not unlike a giant slot machine, as thousands of large silver coins hit the deck, mixed with mud and sand and bits of wooden packing crate. The rattle was replaced by cheers and screams of delight, and a grin was plastered on every face as the men thumped each other’s backs in congratulation. But celebration soon yielded to practicality.
    “There’s more where that came from,” the tool pusher yelled over the tumult. “Let’s get her cleaned out and back in the water.” He clapped his hands to get the attention of a few still celebrating. “Come on, come on, move it! Y’all can count your money later.”
    He smiled. He was already counting his.
    M/T Phoenix Lynx
At anchor
Harardheere, Somalia
    Zahra stood on the bridge wing of Phoenix Lynx and looked at the Luther Hurd in the distance, then turned his gaze seaward to the flotilla of naval vessels.
    “So why’s our friend Mukhtar so interested in this drilling vessel?” he asked, still looking seaward.
    Beside him, Omar shrugged. “It’s unclear. He’s confiding in no one aboard the fishing boat. But I can’t believe he intends to capture a drilling vessel so far from our waters.”
    Zahra nodded. “They’re slow and conspicuous. Even the reduced naval forces would surround him long before he got to safe anchorage here. And if he meets Russians or Indians or South Koreans, he can’t count on being handled with kid gloves. No, he wants something on the ship, and it’s important enough to risk hijacking an American ship as a diversion.” He shook his head. “I don’t have a good feeling about this. We’ve had nothing but problems since the fanatics inserted themselves in our business.”
    “True,” Omar said. “But at least the diversion is working in our favor as well. All the groups have men at sea or preparing to go, and this morning Wahid’s group brought another captive to the anchorage at Garacad.”
    Zahra snorted. “Yes, I heard. An oceangoing tug with a four-man crew and no tow. Let’s hope that the other groups bring home more worthy prizes. What of the negotiations?”
    “Nothing,” Omar said. “All the groups are reporting negotiations stalled.”
    Zahra sighed. “Very well. I suppose we can’t delay without appearing weak. I’ll call the other leaders and we’ll start regular executions.”
    Omar hesitated, looking toward the naval vessels. “Are you sure, Zahra? Won’t that invite attack?”
    “That’s why we’ll start in the other ports with no naval presence. And the executions will be measured—shocking, but not wholesale slaughter. We’ll release video on the Internet. An execution every few days should be enough, I think.”
    Omar nodded. “When should we start?”
    Zahra pulled out his phone. “No time like the present.”
    USS Carney (DDG-64)
Drifting
Harardheere, Somalia
    Commander Frank Lorenzo, USN, Captain of the USS Carney , stood on the bridge and looked down at the group of sailors walking up the deck, led by Culinary Specialist 3 Jerry Harkness. The cook carried a pail full of meat scraps and other garbage, and was trailed by a half dozen off-watch sailors, all carrying cameras. Harkness waited for the would-be photographers to line the rail, then transferred the bail of the bucket to his left hand and put his right beneath the bottom to heave the contents overboard.
    Nothing happened for a moment, and then the water boiled with heavy gray bodies and large triangular fins, as the cheering photographers snapped away.
    “ Carcarinus Zambenzensis , more commonly known as the Zambezi River Shark,” the man beside Lorenzo said. “The most dangerous and aggressive of the shark family. They’ll eat anything or anyone, and frequently do.”
    Lorenzo turned. “I didn’t know you were a shark specialist, Lieutenant.”
    The man smiled. “I try to know a little about all the creatures I share the water with,” he said. “Seals and sharks are