another.
He showered and changed to meet the boss and arrived at two minutes before noon, never having forgotten the words of his own proctor on the first day of INDOC: No matter what time I get here, ANYONE WHO ARRIVES AFTER ME IS LATE! UNDERSTAND?
He walked into the office and found Andy pouring over e-mails downloaded from his computer, all of them on the same subject—the pirates of Haradheere.
“Okay, Mack, I ordered a couple plates of chicken salad and some fruit and yogurt. Is that okay for you?”
“Fine. In the absence of a big cheeseburger with onions and ketchup.”
The admiral laughed. “I can’t eat like that now I’m not on operational training,” he said. “We gotta stay healthy.”
“I’m healthy,” grinned Mack. “I just ran about three hundred miles along the goddamned beach. This is a good bunch of guys in the class, by the way. A lot of them very serious and very determined.”
“Christ, I hope so,” said Andy. “Recruiting’s getting harder every year.”
“Now,” said Mack, changing the subject. “What’s all this Haradheere bullshit?”
“Tell you the truth, it has not really affected us so far. The Pentagon’s
found a way to pay these bastards off, cheap, and get the ship under way. I’d guess they’re real nervous about this officer getting killed.”
“I bet they are,” replied Mack. “Because when the news gets out the guy’s dead, there’ll be about twenty Republican senators demanding that the US cease to be humiliated by a tribe of armed savages and start laying down the goddamned law.”
“Correct,” said Andy. “As usual you’re a couple of jumps out in front of me. But I guess I’ve had reason to be real grateful for that a few times.
“Mack, I’m going to walk us both through this. Because for a start, neither the public nor the media understands what the hell is going on off the coast of East Africa.”
“I’m not sure I do either,” said Mack.
“Well, this pirate bullshit is, in my opinion, here to stay. The sonsofbitches are making a fortune. Because it’s always cheaper and easier to pay up and get out of trouble. In a way, the goddamned pirates have always played fair. When they get paid, they release prisoners and ships. Thus no one who mattered has ever died. But that just changed. Last night. Someone who mattered did die . . .”
“And the navy decided to open negotiations . . .” Mack interrupted.
“Right. And as God is my judge, the crap is about to hit the fan.” Admiral Carlow was frowning. “Because the game just changed. And when that happens, a lot of people are going to want a lot of answers.”
“I guess so,” said Mack.
“The big question is going to be as follows: When the Maersk Alabama was boarded and the captain kidnapped, the US sent in the SEALs and the problem was solved. Three dead pirates, right? Game over. Why can’t we do that every time and put an end to this shit? That’s what they’re all going to ask—reporters, columnists, politicians, and the rest.”
“They don’t understand, do they?” Mack mused. “How difficult that mission was. All the planning, the ocean drop, the sensational marksmanship.”
“No, old buddy, they don’t. But they’re still going to ask that question. Why can’t the SEALs go in, every time.”
“Well, obviously, under certain conditions, we can’t possibly go in. Because an attack by sea is sometimes impossible, and a helicopter attack is a pretty bad idea if the nearest US helicopters are a thousand miles away. The time factor can be a real pain in the ass.”
“And there’s something else I haven’t told you yet,” said the admiral.
“Two of the pirates were also killed on board the Niagara Falls . The captain shot one of them with a machine gun he shouldn’t have had, and one of his officers smashed someone’s head in with a baseball bat while he was trying to board.”
“You think that might make ’em a bit more vicious in the
He showered and changed to meet the boss and arrived at two minutes before noon, never having forgotten the words of his own proctor on the first day of INDOC: No matter what time I get here, ANYONE WHO ARRIVES AFTER ME IS LATE! UNDERSTAND?
He walked into the office and found Andy pouring over e-mails downloaded from his computer, all of them on the same subject—the pirates of Haradheere.
“Okay, Mack, I ordered a couple plates of chicken salad and some fruit and yogurt. Is that okay for you?”
“Fine. In the absence of a big cheeseburger with onions and ketchup.”
The admiral laughed. “I can’t eat like that now I’m not on operational training,” he said. “We gotta stay healthy.”
“I’m healthy,” grinned Mack. “I just ran about three hundred miles along the goddamned beach. This is a good bunch of guys in the class, by the way. A lot of them very serious and very determined.”
“Christ, I hope so,” said Andy. “Recruiting’s getting harder every year.”
“Now,” said Mack, changing the subject. “What’s all this Haradheere bullshit?”
“Tell you the truth, it has not really affected us so far. The Pentagon’s
found a way to pay these bastards off, cheap, and get the ship under way. I’d guess they’re real nervous about this officer getting killed.”
“I bet they are,” replied Mack. “Because when the news gets out the guy’s dead, there’ll be about twenty Republican senators demanding that the US cease to be humiliated by a tribe of armed savages and start laying down the goddamned law.”
“Correct,” said Andy. “As usual you’re a couple of jumps out in front of me. But I guess I’ve had reason to be real grateful for that a few times.
“Mack, I’m going to walk us both through this. Because for a start, neither the public nor the media understands what the hell is going on off the coast of East Africa.”
“I’m not sure I do either,” said Mack.
“Well, this pirate bullshit is, in my opinion, here to stay. The sonsofbitches are making a fortune. Because it’s always cheaper and easier to pay up and get out of trouble. In a way, the goddamned pirates have always played fair. When they get paid, they release prisoners and ships. Thus no one who mattered has ever died. But that just changed. Last night. Someone who mattered did die . . .”
“And the navy decided to open negotiations . . .” Mack interrupted.
“Right. And as God is my judge, the crap is about to hit the fan.” Admiral Carlow was frowning. “Because the game just changed. And when that happens, a lot of people are going to want a lot of answers.”
“I guess so,” said Mack.
“The big question is going to be as follows: When the Maersk Alabama was boarded and the captain kidnapped, the US sent in the SEALs and the problem was solved. Three dead pirates, right? Game over. Why can’t we do that every time and put an end to this shit? That’s what they’re all going to ask—reporters, columnists, politicians, and the rest.”
“They don’t understand, do they?” Mack mused. “How difficult that mission was. All the planning, the ocean drop, the sensational marksmanship.”
“No, old buddy, they don’t. But they’re still going to ask that question. Why can’t the SEALs go in, every time.”
“Well, obviously, under certain conditions, we can’t possibly go in. Because an attack by sea is sometimes impossible, and a helicopter attack is a pretty bad idea if the nearest US helicopters are a thousand miles away. The time factor can be a real pain in the ass.”
“And there’s something else I haven’t told you yet,” said the admiral.
“Two of the pirates were also killed on board the Niagara Falls . The captain shot one of them with a machine gun he shouldn’t have had, and one of his officers smashed someone’s head in with a baseball bat while he was trying to board.”
“You think that might make ’em a bit more vicious in the
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