He told the ship captain, “We’re taking over your vessel. If you don’t fight back, no one will be hurt.”
The Vietnamese captain stared back at him. “Are you saying that you’re pirates?”
The Tang leader shrugged and replied: “Yes—we are.”
But still, the Vietnamese captain was confused. He said: “But you’re not Filipinos. I don’t understand your role in this…”
Now everyone on board the ship was confused. The Tangs had no idea what the Vietnamese captain was talking about.
“We are taking your ship, we are hijacking it,” the Tang leader emphasized, trying to clarify the situation.
But the Vietnamese captain just shook his head. “But this ship has already been hijacked. By Filipinos. We’ve been waiting for them—but they’re late.”
“‘Waiting for them?’” the Tang leader asked. “Who waits for pirates to take over their ship?”
The Vietnamese captain shrugged uncomfortably. “But that’s what we were told to do,” he said.
“By who?”
The Vietnamese captain replied testily. “By you—you’re CIA—aren’t you?”
Now the Tang leader was totally baffled—and he was getting mad. He finally pulled the arming bar back on his AK-47. That’s when the Vietnamese sailors knew something was very wrong here.
With little more than a nod from their captain, the entire crew suddenly jumped overboard, hurling themselves into the foggy waters below.
* * *
THINGS WERE JUST as confused on the bridge of the USS Messia, one mile away.
The captain and his executive officer were huddled over the spy ship’s ultrasophisticated sea surface radar. While the XO was studying the images coming in from the fog bank, the captain was consulting a highly classified document marked: “Operation Sea Ghost.”
“Where the hell are they?” the captain finally asked with no little agitation. “According to this, they were supposed to be at the coordinate five minutes ago. They must have blown by it.”
“Expand the screen coverage again,” the XO told a nearby technician.
In an instant, the screen was displaying a ten-mile-square area of the Indischer Bank. It clearly showed about a dozen small fishing vessels and a large blur in the middle.
“What’s with that anomaly?” the captain asked the technician.
The tech replied, “A blur could indicate two ships so close to each other it skews the equipment.”
“But isn’t that where our mark is supposed to be?” the captain asked, putting his finger on the blur.
“And if it’s two ships, who is the other one?” the XO added.
The tech thought a moment. “Maybe that ship that went past us a few minutes ago?” he said.
“Not unless they collided out there somewhere,” the XO replied. “Other than that, what would one have to do with the other—unless they answered their distress call?”
The captain was growing agitated. “Whatever happened, our Vietnamese friends don’t appear to be following the plan.”
The XO could only agree. “What should we do?” he asked.
The captain studied the radar screen again, then said: “Better send in the playboys. Maybe they can straighten it out.”
* * *
THE XO LEFT the bridge and quickly headed aft.
He went by a sealed-off section where accommodations for the Vietnamese crew had been laid in.
Food, clothes and money were waiting for them here. The XO took a moment to peek inside the large cabin and thought, Like a party no one wants to come to.
He kept moving until he reached the aft portion of the bottom deck. Two fast-boats were waiting here, along with a dozen SEALs, all dressed in battle gear and mission-ready. Also on hand were five Filipinos, mercenaries hired by the CIA for this unusual occasion.
This compartment had a recessed panel on its aft wall. This panel was open and looking out onto the foggy sea.
The SEAL team commander saw the XO coming and got his men to their feet.
“What’s our status, sir?” the SEAL CO asked.
“Status is officially unclear at the moment,” the XO replied.
He briefed the SEALs on the situation, how there was some confusion sorting out ships inside the fog bank.
“The captain suggests you guys deploy, get into the soup and see what’s going on,” the XO told them.
“How about our little friends?” the SEAL asked, nodding toward the Filipinos.
The XO just shrugged. “We might have to give them a box lunch and send them home. We’ll see.”
“Should we bring the UDT gear?” the SEAL CO asked.
The XO eyed the three duffel bags he knew held enough explosives to sink a good-size cargo ship.
“Maybe best you guys go in first,” he told the SEAL officer. “If you need the heavy stuff, we’ll get it to you.”