Chapter 8 return to Mombasa
It was a total of an eight-day run from the area that they had been working on the wrecked cargo ship to get to the outside of Mombasa harbor. The small convoy had not run into any issues besides the ones that were weather related. The last blow Richard had to deal with had turned out to be an issue, and if the bow of the LCU had not been riding so high thanks to the light load in that area of the well deck. The little craft might have been in trouble, like the sinking kind of deep trouble. It was during that storm that Richard was having a second, third, and fourth thoughts about not making room on the LST to carrying the smaller craft after all. That would have reduced the total amount of cargo that they could have brought back to the home harbor, but it was how they had gotten the LCU down south in the first place.
But that would have been a major cut into the cargo load on the LST. Really it would have been cut to almost nothing, and this mission had been expensive in many more ways that you could count it. About the only thing this mission had not cost was in lives or at least lives for the American side of the mission. It had cost the lives of many of the people that had made the poor decision to attack the US Navy ships that had been working. Removing one good-sized pirate base and its attack forces of fighters and boats was good, but not worth the amount of fuel used and risked so many ships that could not be replaced by anyone on this planet in the next decade.
After a dozen hours sitting in a shallow water river mouth, waiting to see if they were going to lose the LCU or the mine hunter first. The storm had blown away and the convoy could continue with only needing a few airsick bags and taking care of some of the crews that were black and blue. They had started back north after clearing the last sand bar the storm had made at the river mouth. The huge antenna and powerful radio were able to contact the Mombasa harbor master while they were still a full day out from port. This was to let them know that they were okay and making their way again to the harbor, and not to send a rescue mission to look for them.
Also with this advance notice, the harbor inspection and the normal waiting period for dock space were expedited for two cargo ships. The mine sweeper had picked up the pace after making it past the main part of the harbor. She was going toward the military dock after the harbor’s “normal” motor gun monitors took control of their security requirements. The minehunter was not the best vessel for close in escorts in the confines of a busy harbor like Mombasa. She was more of a shoot first, shoot second, and then send the ROV down to see what was sunk kind of vessel.
Next to break off from the convoy was the USS Boulder. The LST needed to make its way to the longest and highest above the waterline pier. This left Richard and the LCU to be escorted by about half of the small harbor craft all the way to the back of the harbor at a steady 4 knots, that was the normal safe speed for harbor traffic. The rest of the harbor seemed to barely notice the three ships returning to their home port. That might have even been true, but not likely.
Richard was a little surprised when the LCU was brought all the way back to the newly rebuilt small dry dock. This one had been rebuilt to mainly support “civilian” ships, but it was also used to support the stabilizing Kenya Navy and the US navy. The ex-pirate mothership was brought into the pool, and the watertight gate was brought around and locked into place. Before the crew could leave the small boat, the landing craft had to be unloaded by the heavy cranes needed to support the dry dock. This unloading was helped along by a pair of deck side mobile cranes that were not there just because they didn’t have anything better to do. It had been decided, by higher command, that there was too much cargo that was not self-propelled to use the bow loading gate.
Richard was not allowed to watch as the small ship/boat was unloaded of the items recovered from below the ocean waves to the south. There had been a military Humvee complete with armed driver waiting to take him and his luggage to go see the big boss man, and he was not known to enjoying waiting for his underlings to show up to any meetings. This was not unexpected, and Richard had been working out what he was going to say for days as they slowly made their way back to Mombasa. It would be a game to see if he had all of the answers that were expected of him.
###
Richard was walking along the main public area of the main harbor that was the heart of Mombasa. He was both checking out the large ships in the harbor and the people that made a harbor like Mombasa a real harbor and not just a large and protected cove facing the Indian ocean. Out on the outer area of the Harbor he could see the Edwards and she looked to be covering the oil refinery. There had not been a press release when LTCR Moore and her ship had returned, but the rumor mill had been a flutter. Without looking very hard, Richard could see that all of the ships of that salvaging task force had been able to return. The only vessel that he could not see from this point of view had been the diving support and salvage Tug. She was just too small and was camouflaged by the other small vessel so common this late into WWIII, but Richard knew she was out there somewhere.
Richard was led by his nose to where his next meeting was going to happen. He had a feeling that it was not going to go well. Breach of contract was something that had left blood on the streets more than once around here. Richard didn’t think that the person he was meeting was going to have these issues, but he had to call in a few markers to at least have an out….. besides spilling his blood on to the streets.
The bar/restaurant had an inside and an outside part to support its business. With the heat, Richard was going for the French style and sitting outside. If a rain band came through and it was too heavy, that was not uncommon this time of year. He would move inside that didn’t have the electrical power to keep the AC unit running. Richard made sure that two meals and beers were ordered and just waited for the person to show up.
Karl looked up as a cloud blocked the sun, but his eyes told him that it was not a rain risk. He had not stopped walking and when his eyes dropped back down, he saw Richard waiting for him at an umbrella covered table for four. Karl saw a case that was larger than he was expecting but not overly so, but it still put Karl a little on edge.
Richard stood up and he pointed to an empty chair before he started speaking in Hochdeutsch. “It’s good to see you again Karl.” Richard did a finger wave to Karl’s face that normally held marks made from his diving and air mask. “Looks like you have been out of the water for a while.”
Karl took his seat and before he could speak a dark-skinned woman sat down a dark beer in front of him. Well Karl was German, and he was a long way from home. So, he took a long sip of the beer that was not “true” German beer before he talked to the man across from him. It was still good beer even if you had not just spent the last few weeks on or under the sea.
When the now third empty beer glass hits the table, Karl was already in a little better mood. It was not that he was in a bad mood, he just now was in a better mood….it was a German thing. “Thank you, Captain. And thanks to the pay and bonuses paid out for the last mission. Yes, I have been out of the water, but Rich has been taking a lot of my money…. Just like he does to everyone. I take it that I’m here to get the last part of the contract that “you” signed with me?”
Now Richard let a frown come to his face, and after a few long seconds he leans forward and puts down a little metal block that held the four spend “brass” for Karl’s specialized underwater handgun. “I have looked all over the place for new ammunition for your baby, and I even tried to get some of the local machine shops to reload these.”
Now it was Karl’s turn to frown. “I take it that you have not been successful?”
Richard now took a sip of his lighter colored beer from his still sweating glass. “You are correct. It is the modified Berdan primers that the Soviets used on those things. There just is not a way to reload them with what they have. They would have to hand make the tooling to make the right sized brass and then a set of tools to help hand set the holes to line up with the firing pins of your weapon. At least that is what they all told me.”
Karl was about to say something, but he catches something in the face of the other man for a split second. “You have something in mind as a replacement? I don’t think that we would be meeting here if you didn’t have a replacement in mind.”
Richard smiled behind his beer glass. “Well after I couldn’t find any more 4.5 smoothbore to fill your baby. I made my way over to Kenya Ordinance Factories. Now let me tell you, that is one busy place. I hate to disappoint you, but they were not interested in a limited run of 4.5mm. They were interested in the deal, if you signed over your handgun to them. And before you throw that beer at me. I told them that was a no go, but I had an idea that has been kicking around in my head for some time now. I talked them into making a copy of the Winchester Liberator.”
Richard reached down and pulled out a short barreled block of shiny metal and set it between the two men. Karl had a confused look on his face. “After me talking to them for a few minutes about the issues with underwater predators of local birth and surface visitors the local fishermen are having to deal with. They came up with this idea. Now it shoots your “normal” 16 gauge or 17mm shells for actions on the surface.”
While Richard had been talking, he pulled something out of one of his pockets. With the skills of a showman at heart, he put on the tabletop what looked to be a hollow brass tube. Karl put down the four barreled shotgun and he picked up the lacquered covered brass and looked down the tube. He was very surprised to see 3 metal points looking back at him.
Richard waited for Karl to look back up from looking down the open topped brass shell. “So besides being useful for other than normal operations. Each of these shells can fire three 5mm steel darts that will both work underwater and on the beach.” Richard points back to the four barreled shotgun on the table. “That is the working prototype and working demonstration gun that is made of stainless steel and recycled aluminum cans.”
Karl was now very confused. “Why would they spend the time to do this?” This late into WW III it was hard to find any “real” modern weapons, much less find the effort to make a brand new one.
Richard could not help but notice that Karl was not looking at him but moving between looking at the four barreled sawed-off shotgun and the brass shells. “They see a market and a need. Besides helping with the ocean steel recovering mission against any sharks. I have found out that Lake Victoria has been heating up again. On a side note. If you have the time and go over to the Kenya Ordinance Factories with your baby, I’m sure they will make it worth your time for the effort.” Richard gave the tall German an eye wink from someone in the Know.
Richard takes the time to pull out a carrying pack out of the box at his feet that would be used to carry the block of deadly metal. Then he pulls out a box of barrel covers along with a box of 24 brass shells packing little spears. Then came out a thin stack of legal sized papers from a folder that had been sitting on the table the whole time. When Richard was done, he gave the diver a little knowing look. “From your looks? I would say that I have come through on your contract.”
Karl didn’t say a word, He just signed on the line to say that the contract was closed and both sides were legally done. The two stayed to finish the meal before leaving. The entire meeting, besides ordering refills had been done in German. This could have been looked at as a way to stop anyone else from knowing what was being said, but that was just an unintended consequence. It would take the DGSE months of work and a large part of their budget in this town to find out exactly what had been said. Needless to say, many were disappointed with the findings.
Two months later
South African government house.
The old white-haired man put down the pages that he was reading, and he looked over at the head of external intelligence for the South African Government. In a heavy Dutch accent that was unique to this part of the world. “So, Karl. It’s true? It has been confirmed by other sources that are reliable?”
The head of spying for the South Africa government gives a half smile to one of his bosses. “In a word, yes. Most of the stuff they recovered was only good for patterns for handmaking more parts or for their growing scrap shops, but they were able to make the trip well worth their time and resources that they risked. That would have been true if you just counted the recovered steel for their band of recyclers. Our head of the navy would have thought that was true, even if they had just bashed in that little den of pirates into toothpicks.”
That got a raised eyebrow from the leader of the country called South Africa. “Were they able to shift the balance of power in the Red Sea area?”
The local leader was very much aware of the French on and off of this continent. He had a few bones to pick with them, and some of them went back more than a few decades. That had been one of the major reasons that “his” government had been backing the Americans in this new world war. Then again, they also didn’t want the Americans to get too powerful to be a threat to the South African leadership.
The head of the agency really didn’t need to pause but he did so for some dramatic effect. “No…. or at least not by that much anyway. The French can and do get new equipment and supplies from their home country. Even If it is not on any regular schedule that we can find evidence of. The AFRICOM commander’s people were able to get some of the older weapons back into service first, and that helped with some local issues. But that will be less useful if the French want to expand into their areas of control.”
The spy had no idea what an M42 “Duster” tank had been until 10 days ago. The reports of what those twin 40mm cannons had done to a major raiding party coming out of Somalia had been the stuff of nightmares. He had already asked around to see if the South African military could come up with something like this Duster. And that also included the “homemade” 40mm canister rounds the American’s had used against the horse mounted attackers from across some line on a map. That had been a surprising data point to find out as the fallout from that salvage mission. And until now, no one in his line of work had known that Kenya Ordinance Factories had added a new line beside small arms ammunition to go along with mortar rounds and simple mortar tubes they had been known to be making. They had been the ones to make those 40mm shotgun shells for what was thought of as “just” a 1950’s made anti-aircraft system.
With a headshake, to clear the made-up mental images of horse and riders being cut down like so much red wheat that his overactive mind had supplied him. Now he can address his boss. “They were only able to add four or five more new M551’s Sheridan’s hulls to their total order of battle for the Americans. The one M48A5 that they had been able to add to their defense had me a bit confused. Then we got the report from a friend closer to the IDF. General Harris had a stroke of genius when he repaired and then traded those two recovered 8-inch howitzers to the IDF. It was reported that the Americans were able to get three other M48A5 or like tanks along with supplies to support them for some time. The IDF also have been reported to have supplied them with extra ERA blocks. That those M48’s all can use NATO ammunition like the older and standard 105mm rounds. It is just another advantage for the Americans, but it does not shift the balance of power.”
The political leader relaxed a little in his high back leather executive chair. “So, we will not have a battalion of Abrams charging into battle anytime soon?”
The spymaster had to fight down a chuckle. “Not even a single one of those type of tanks was recovered from the shipwreck.”
Those were not the only surprises that the Americans had made from that one mission. They had turned over an armored artillery supply track to a group of expat Americans called the American Guard in Kenya. They had in turn, had converted that supply track into an urban APC to defend their group housing area from any attackers dumb enough to cross that line. He understood that the 10-ton cargo track that had been recovered was going to be turned into a huge 70mm rocket launcher using mostly local made ammunition. It would be using rocket pods left over from grounded helicopters that would never fly again because all of the Boeing helicopter production lines were so much radioactive waste. The Americans had done the same thing to the 8-ton cargo truck they had recovered. The reports about its capabilities while testing near that port on Lake Victoria had looked promising….. in a rain of death kind of way.
The other cargo trucks and even the civilian trucks that they had recovered from that sunken ship would not even make a burp in the current supply lines situation for Kenya. The Marines were getting two “new” AAVP7s along with the M17 LAV-AA. Those would go nicely with the single repaired LAV 25 salvaged parts allowed to be repaired. The US Air Force was getting the LAV PiVID and an old M48 Chaparral SAM launcher and the sole M750 base security truck they had gotten to work. The American army would also get a pair of each M113 and M115 ACCVs to work with that old Duster that had been used in the spanking of that horse cavalry.
The spymaster was still waiting to find out what was going to happen to the M898 and M728 CEV. The sole repairable Humvee fire support truck was now assigned to the AFRICOM commander security detail. “No sir, they will add “only” two dozen combat vehicles out of a full cargo ship worth of supplies. That is something like 1 and 9 of what had been loaded onto that ship in America. We think that the rest of the recovered hulks from that ship are at Kenya Vehicle Manufactures Limited Thika plant. We don’t know what else they were able to recover, but whatever it was they will take even longer to get back into operation.”
The head of the South African government had only seemed to let it go unnoticed with the spy masters lost look. “What about the other supplies that we know they were able to recover?”
The Spy Master now had a little smile on his face, there was a reason that this man was still the leader of the local government. “They pulled up a lot of ammunition and more than a few missiles out of that wreck. Only about a dozen of the latter are useful at this time for counter air work. About a dozen more ATGMs for the Sheridan’s are useful according to all reports. The ammunition charge that launches those types of ATGMs out the tubes is not that stable at the best of times. While the missile parts might be good, the launching charges are going to have to be hand made. They also are having to take any round of small arms ammunition that was exposed to the sea water or might have been exposed is being inspected. So far, they are having to disassemble and then having to reload them all over again. That is not something new for them to have to deal with, so they will have a steady, if low supply of new or rebuilt ammunition from 105mm going down to pistol rounds. That will not even slow their need to import replacement ammunition from us or new brass that they are ordering. We estimate that they recovered about 7,000 liters of diesel from the wreck, but it will need to be processed before it can be used outside of a power generation plant. They also were able to recover about a third of the metal that made up the hull of the M/V Nordland before the mix gas generator for the diving team went out and it could not be repaired with on hand stocks ending their mission.”
The old man behind the huge desk got a lost look in his eyes. “Okay, was it really worth the time and risk they ran for this operation? I’m talking economics and not just war fighting ability?”
The spy master had to fight to keep his face flat. “Sir, economics is not my strong suit. I can tell you what some of my people think that was not put into any reports. This operation will not shift the balance of power between France and the Americans. Still, it will buy the American and Kenyans between 6 and 8 months. That is if they don’t have to send too much of what was recovered to support the RDF and they don’t make a dumb move in that window.”
With the papers now flat on the wooden desktop, the Prime Minister looked levelly at the other man. “So, you think that we can launch Roos?”
The spymaster hated to be put in spots like this, he was a man that lived in the grey. He loved the wide spaces between black and white. Still, he was too much of a spy master and a politician to hold his tongue for long. “Yes, but we will have to work hard to find the needed supplies to support it the way it needs. Those cutting rods the Americans had ended up using are not something you can just find on a street corner or next to a fruit stand. Also, our people will have Great Whites to deal with on top of Bull Sharks like the Americans. They didn’t have any losses due to sharks, but they had some close calls and then the divers were attacked by pirates while underwater.”
The spy master gave a snort. This was something that they had talked about a few times and one fact was already agreed on. That would be that the South Africans would need American help to make the mission successful. “Now they had some issues with sharks, and the Americans will want something in return for their help and in their investment of items that might not be recoverable if they are lost due to breaking or enemy actions.”
Now it was the turn of the Prime Minister to make a face, and he didn’t say anything for a while. “Send the message to our ambassador to Kenya. See if they can work out the details, but they are not to agree on anything without letting me know first. We will handle this as a treaty, one that we can use against them if they back out of any deal that is made.”
Two more months later
Downtown Mombasa.
Richard was sitting down and working on a serving of seaweed smoked fish at a little hole in the wall that he had taken to visiting a few times a week or more. He had no idea what kind of fish it might be, and this one was more than a little over cooked for his liking. Still, it was cheap, large, and he had liked trying to help one of the smaller establishments like this keep going. That it also let him keep an ear out for anything that might prove useful to him and is now missing business partner were all bonuses. The last part that was just a well concealed benefit for him to be eating here, and he was careful not to tell that to anyone.
When the military pick-up style four door truck stopped at the road’s edge, Richard kept an eye out on it as he slowly chewed his fish and bread. Doing just that kind of thing last week had helped him to break into a black-market deal going on under everyone’s noses. That one deal had been about to supply weapons to a group that was less than friendly to the current Kenyan government, the British, and Americans that lived in this country. The info had not been attached to a “reward” that Richard could collect on, but it was useful enough to his boss to let him have a few weeks off without needing to report in.
When the person got out of the passenger side back seat of the truck and started looking around the outdoor tables. Part of Richard wanted to get up and leave the area as stealthily as he could, but part of him knew that it was already too late. The person was in typical expat clothing, and he was soon joined by three others exiting the same truck and they were looking for someone. That was bad news for him and anyone that was about to be unlucky if this broke the wrong way.
Richard turned away from his fish lunch and pulled out today’s paper and more or less tried to cover his face with the dozen sheets of off-white pages with black ink. He felt his mouth turn down as the clean-shaven man in off white cargo pants and light white shirt started heading towards his outdoor table in more or less a straight line. Richard was steadfastly ignoring the younger man, even when he came to a stop on the other side of Richard’s table.
“Sir!! Will you come with me? You are late for a very important meeting.” The young man had expected this…person to jump at his command. You could just tell by the tone that he had should have been labeled “this civilian” is not supporting the war effort.
The young man used a tone of voice that makes Richard think Ivy League and not ring knocker, and this could be good or very bad for Richard. That would mean he was with the state department or had been before the CIVgov/Milgov split after the Thanksgiving Day massacre. This information made Richard lower his opinion of this jerk right from the start. Richard folded the paper down and looked up at the younger man still standing across from him.
“One, I’m on vacation. Two, if I had a meeting set up for today? I would know about it, and I don’t know about any meetings on my schedule for the next week or so. Three, go take a hike……son.” Richard made to open the newspaper again in the hope that the younger man would take the hint and leave him alone.
The younger man didn’t say anything for long seconds, and he started to do the fish out of water mouth movements. Then he only passed over a folded-up piece of white paper to Richard instead of wasting his breath. That was the first smart move he had made in this whole situation. Now Richard was almost worried, but he still reached out for the sheet of folded paper he was being offered. Richard had to fight to keep his face calm as he unfolded the page. It even worked, at least until he got to the second line on the note.
“Well…… Shit!! Ensign, it looks like you are taking me to a meeting.” Richard knew that he could not blow off this meeting. Not unless he wanted to spend the next few months in a Kenyan prison or worse. He also had to change his opinion of this young man. Maybe he was not ex-State Department of Foggy Bottom after all.
####
It was a fast trip to the group of buildings that held the Mombasa part of the higher command for AFRICOM. Well, it was only a little faster than walking the distance they had to cover due to all of the local traffic. The streets of this town were packed with walkers, horses, and bicycles with the drop in the number of gas-powered transports the average person had access to with the loss of oil and parts production. Richard went through the normal security pat down when he entered the first guard point outside of one of the buildings. The cool air that was hitting him was a surprise as he entered the lobby. Air-conditioning was now so rare that it might have fallen into the lane of myth and rumor. That shock didn’t last long as Richard was escorted to a working elevator and up, he went.
The door opened and Richard walked into a meeting that had been going on for an unknown length of time. Richard almost stopped dead in his tracks when he saw the commander of all forces in Africa talking with a woman that was wearing a suit that cost more than what Richard could have made in a few years before the war…. before taxes. He was making more now on most days, but it was a suit that yelled. “I am someone, and you should bow to me. I am a person of power.”
Lieutenant General Jonathan Harris smiled, “Please have a seat, Richard.” As Richard was finding a seat the general kept talking, and it was not to the powerful woman in her own seat. “That was a fine bit of work you did on finding and recovering that cargo ship.”
Richard didn’t say anything to the complement, and he only gave the General a slight head nod of agreement, because he was not going to trust his voice. The General took the nod and continued to talk to the army NCO turned captain turned rabbit out of the hat puller. “Have you met our South African Ambassador, Sheila Sisulu?”
Richard could not help but feel his eyebrows climb up his forehead, and before he could put his foot in his mouth the woman spoke to him. “Yes, the South African government has been trying to come out of its old ways over the last few years. One of them was to appoint a black woman as an ambassador to what might be the second most important post to the South Africans after nuclear weapons started to fly in this war.”
Richard felt a smile come to his lips at the shear presence of this woman. He was already starting to like this large woman, and he had some issues with people in leadership positions in general. “Well, who says you can’t teach an old dog new tricks. And it is nice to meet you ambassador. I will have to make sure my business partner knows about this meeting. He has had some not so nice things to say about the government to the south of us even before he had a few beers to drink.”
Richard looked back over to the General. “But why would you want a lowly docked sailing captain that was a grunt in the recent past to attend this meeting?”
The heavy South African accent filled the room. “Now, now Captain. Do not sell yourself short, my young Captain. You have a nice little file worked up, after you recovered that Soviet warship. My people were keeping an eye on you during your last mission. We might have a job for you, but “we” thought that “we” would check in with your superiors before we had a meeting with you in person. I do understand that you prefer meetings at an outdoor restaurant down by the harbor, but the air conditioning is so much better here.”
She now pointed a finger at the General that was just sitting across from her. “We think that you have the perfect match of skills that my government needs for a special mission.”
Richard now felt his stomach drop to his toes, and he had a very bad feeling about this. “What skills might those be?”
The rotund ambassador sat deeper in her chair and gave Richard a level look. “You know that we fought our own part of this world war in Angola?”
At seeing the positive head nod from the former NCO, she continued. “We were mainly dealing with the Cubans and support that they were given from the Soviets. At first the Angolans were only supported by Havana, then the Soviets started stepping up support in some major ways. Towards the end, the Soviet demanded that their “Allies” support other battle areas with the equipment that they were supplying as a way of paying them back. The Cubans and Russians could not send “Convoys” by this time, and we think that most of the supplies came in via old submarines that were converted to carry cargo or false flagging cargo ships. We also know for a fact that some “neutral” flagged ships in this part of the world were anything but neutral. I understand that “We” tracked them all as best that we could. When things started to wind down for them on this continent? Those and a few “other” nations and some “found” cargo ships were used to pull out what remained of the Cubans and the other “advisors” out of our part of Africa.”
Richard nodded his head; this was something that he had heard about more than a few times after coming to this continent. “Okay, but what does that have to do with me.”
The ambassador shot the general a sharp look, and she raised an eyebrow at his calm face. When the General gave the woman a small head nod that was more of just a chin lift, she looked back toward Richard and started to speak. “We were tracking a vessel commonly known as the Leninsky Komsomol out of the Black Sea. She was operating under a Swedish flag at the time, then a few others as she took a roundabout way down to this part of the world. Just as she was about to make her expected port call, she went off the air. About all we know, is that she was not in the fleet that took the Cubans and others back home. I am told that her structural lines are quite distinctive for those that know what to look for. We also can’t find any record of her or any other name that she used on her trip to Angola. Not long ago, we also found out that she was listed as missing by the local KGB office. We want you to find her, and then we want you to recover as much of her cargo as you can.”
Richard didn’t say anything for a few seconds and his mind froze. It felt like time was stretching out to that one second was an hour kind of living. Then like a rubber band his brain snapped back into motion. “The South African Navy and Government don’t have any active salvage ships.” He had looked up this information while he had been looking for the old Soviet Destroyer.
Now the ambassador looked down, you could tell that she was a little embarrassed, and she mentally cursed the man for coming to that mark and doing so this quickly. Now there was nothing she could do about it but agree. “My Government and Navy have had other issues to deal with that out ranked having dedicated salvage ships of any real size. By now any ship that could do the job are beyond recovery by mine or even your government. Besides we never had specialized mine hunters like your Avenger class ship to call on for help.”
The General looked over the other man sitting at the end of the long briefing table. “Richard, what we need you to do is lead the mission. You are to find this cargo ship, and then find out if anything is recoverable from her or not.”
Richard nodded his head, and he felt a smile come to his face. He had already decided that he would take the mission. “Okay, I get my monthly paycheck no matter what. But what is in it for “us”?” Richard knew that something was going on in the deeper waters that he could not see. He was given to understand that meetings at this level were just like the deep ocean.
The General smiled and tipped his glass towards the ambassador. “It was decided that you will not know that information. But “we” will have a person at the port that you will be working with, and you will be getting supported out of the lower levels of the South African Government. They will give them a base idea of what we need, but it will be up to them to work out those kinds of details. The one thing that you need to know. It is that we will be trading most of our share that you recover back to the South African Government for what we and the Kenyan Government need more of.”
Richard now knows how deep the water is, and for just a few seconds he thinks about trying to back out of the mess before it is too late. Then faster than light, he changes his mind. “Okay, I’m in. Who else is on the team?”
(TBC in Krugerrand and Great Whites).
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