15:38 (Rome Time)
Tuesday, June 2, 2015
Bridge of the MV Heraklion
52 nautical miles northwest of Malta, Mediterranean Sea
Having been advised by a sailor that the captain of the ship had received a message for him, Major Gennady Koslov climbed gingerly the access ladder from the stern deck and walked inside the ship’s bridge, where he found Captain Philipopoulos sitting in his command chair behind the helmsman.
‘’You have something for me, Captain?’’
Stavro Philipopoulos gave him an introspective look before answering him: presented to him as the leader of a group of private security contractors paid by Viktor Graschev to protect his present cargo, Koslov gave Stavro the impression of being much more than just some mercenary. However, Graschev had paid Stavro very well to close his eyes and shut his mouth during this trip.
‘’Yes, Mister Koslov! We just received an urgent message from the Meridian Import-Export Company, addressed to you. Here it is.’’
Koslov took the message and started reading it. As decided in advance, any message to him from Graschev would be in clear, but would contain certain key words and passwords to both authenticate it and convey its hidden meaning. What Koslov read however infuriated him to no small degree, making him look up angrily at Stavro.
‘’This can’t be! I had no prior warning about this!’’
‘’Neither did I, Mister Koslov. From the tone of it, it seems that this was forced on Mister Graschev at the last minute and against his best judgment. Would you know by chance who those extra passengers due to board the ship in Malta are?’’
‘’No, but they can only complicate my job to insure the security of our present cargo. When will we arrive in Malta, Captain?’’
‘’We should dock in Malta in about five hours. By the way, I don’t have enough cabins left to accommodate those extra passengers, unless your men would be willing to cram themselves in a few less cabins.’’
‘’No way! These…new passengers will have to find berths in the bow section. I don’t want them near my men.’’
Stavro raised an eyebrow at that, surprised by the vehemence of the Russian.
‘’Is there something I should know about these men, Mister Koslov?’’
Koslov, realizing that he had let too much of his emotions show, made a dismissive gesture.
‘’Not really, Captain. They are just from a long-time rival private security firm that stole many contracts from us in the past. It seems that the buyer of your cargo shipment decided to hire them for the last part of the trip, where they will escort it inside Turkey. I think that this was an unwise decision on his part, but I am paid to follow the directives of my customer, so I will have to live with this. Thank you for advising me about this message, Captain. I will now go pass the news to my men.’’
Stavro didn’t say a word then but followed Koslov with his eyes as the Russian left his bridge. The idea of having aboard his ship two rival teams of mercenaries that hated each others’ guts didn’t appeal at all to him but, like Koslov, he was paid to follow the directives of the customer.
Going to his cabin inside the lower level of the bridge superstructure, Koslov reread Graschev’s message carefully. It was definitely from him, since it included one of the one-time passwords preselected before the departure from Santa Maria. The meaning was also clear, if you knew how to read between the lines: eleven ISIS fighters were going to come aboard the ship in Malta, at the insistence of those stupid Saudis, and would ‘help’ escort the shipment of weapons to Iskenderun and inside Turkish territory. Apparently, either the Saudis or ISIS didn’t fully trust Russia in this venture and wanted to play it safe. That however was going to force Koslov and his men to cohabitate with people they would normally gladly kill on sight. This was not going to be fun.
20:52 (Rome Time)
Port of Rosetta, Malta
Koslov stayed a good five paces behind and to one side of Captain Philipopoulos as the latter met the first of eleven men coming up the gangway from the quay. All of them wore khaki coveralls and carried each a bulging kit bag. They were not openly armed, but Koslov was sure that those kit bags contained plenty of weapons. Surprisingly, the ISIS fighters didn’t have Semitic traits on the most part, looking instead like common Europeans of either white or black skin. Koslov then understood on hearing their leader speak with a British accent that they had to be Western converts to Islam who had been recruited by ISIS. Those converts in fact formed a sizeable portion of the ISIS forces and were often their best trained fighters, and also some of their most fanatical ones. They also had the advantage of being able to pass incognito in most countries of Europe without attracting undue attention. Philipopoulos then brought the ISIS leader to Koslov to introduce the two men to each other.
‘’Mister Gennady Koslov, this is Mister John Wadsworth, the leader of the newly arrived team.’’
‘’Happy to meet you, Mister Wadsworth.’’ Lied Koslov.
‘’The same here, Mister Koslov.’’ Replied the ISIS man while shaking hands with the Russian. Philipopoulos then cut in, trying to shorten as much as possible the contacts between the two groups.
‘’Mister Wadsworth, there are unfortunately not enough cabins in the stern section for your men. I thus have prepared a compartment in the bow section. If you and your men could follow me.’’
As the eleven newcomers followed the captain towards the bow, one of Koslov’s Spetsnaz soldiers near him whispered in his ear.
‘’Those black asses{11} are bound to make the rest of the trip quite insufferable, sir. Should we stay away from them?’’
‘’As much as possible, yes! Unfortunately, there is only one mess for the crew and passengers. Our men will have to show much restraint during meals, as I can’t vouch for those murderous bastards.’’
In their storage compartment, Erik and Dean were alerted by the beeping signal from their motion sensor installed on the upper deck. Looking at the corresponding camera window opened on Erik’s tablet computer, they saw the firsts of a group of men in khaki coveralls entering the bow section behind Captain Philipopoulos.
‘’This can’t be good news for us.’’ Said Erik as he watched the newcomers go towards a forward compartment that was crammed with triple bunk beds and was probably used to carry migrants on certain trips. One of the men then spoke to a comrade in Arabic, making Dean frown before looking at Farah, who was now approaching them, curious about what was happening.
‘’Farah, you know Arabic well. Can you translate what these bozos are saying?’’
‘’Sure!’’ Replied the Iranian agent before listening carefully as more of the newcomers spoke Arabic between themselves while their lineup snaked slowly forward along the passageway.
‘’One says that he would rather kill those Russians than work alongside them. His comrades are agreeing. He…’’
Farah suddenly tensed up as another newcomer said something that made the others laugh. Erik also saw her expression harden, while intense hatred appeared on her face.
‘’One of them just joked that he would rather be back in Raqqa, at the side of his teenage slave bride. These bastards are ISIS fighters!’’
‘’I kind of was worried about that.’’ Said Erik, his own expression hardening. On his part, Dean shook his head slowly in wonderment.
‘’Whoever sent those guys on this ship sure didn’t think straight: the Russian Spetsnaz soldiers that came on the ship in Santa Maria probably fought a number of times Islamist extremists in the Caucasus region in the past. This is a perfect recipe for causing a bloody fight on this ship.’’
To his surprise, his remark made a smile appear on Erik’s face.
‘’What? What did I say to amuse you?’’
‘’That perfect recipe for a fight: I think that you just gave me a really nice idea.’’
Farah, who had not listened to that, as she was busy listening to the ISIS fighters visible on the tablet’s screen, was dismayed on seeing one of the newcomers being shown by the captain the washroom compartment the trio had been using so far, with the ISIS fighter then going inside the washroom, probably to relieve himself.
‘’Damn! What are going to do now if we need to use the toilet? These bastards are now going to be all over that deck.’’
‘’Then, we will have to improvise something, Farah.’’ Replied Dean before looking around at the various items they had found at first in the compartment. His eyes quickly stopped on a dozen large white plastic cans with steel handles stacked on a shelf, along with other items. Going to the cans and reading the labels on them, he saw that they were five gallon cans of a powdered mixture meant to be spread over oil leaks on decks, in order to absorb the oil and avoid accidents from slipping on the oil patch. Weighing each can, he found two of them that were half empty and proceeded in pouring the content of one in the other, ending with one can being empty. He next grabbed a large plastic garbage bag from a box, opened it and fitted it to the inside of the empty can, then smiled to Farah.
‘’Here you go, Farah! I will pour some of that absorbent mixture in the bottom, to help absorb a bit the odor of our urine. We will then only need to add a bit more powder every time we relieve ourselves. We will of course keep the lid of the can on when not using it.’’
While his idea was definitely practical, Farah still hesitated while eyeing the big plastic can.
‘’Uh, we are going to use this here?’’
Dean smiled reassuringly to her, understanding her hesitation.
‘’Don’t worry, Farah: we are not going to play peeping tom on you. I will set this can in that corner, behind that line of drums, in order to provide some intimacy.’’
‘’Thank you, Stryker. Decidedly, you are a perfect gentleman.’’
That made the big agent grin and puff his chest.
‘’Hey, I’m the darling of CIA secretaries, back in the States. In more favorable circumstances, I would have loved to invite you for supper.’’
Farah smiled briefly at that, then became serious again and looked at Erik.
‘’So, what will we do about those ISIS bastards? With 23 men now escorting those weapons, the job of destroying them once in Turkey will become quite difficult.’’
‘’Not if we cut that number before we arrive in Iskenderun.’’ Replied Erik in a cold voice.
12:07 (Rome Time)
Wednesday, June 3, 2015
Crew mess, MV Heraklion
140 nautical miles west of Crete
Most of the crew of the MV Heraklion was already eating lunch at the tables of their mess, along with six of the Russian ‘private security guards’, when the eleven men that had come aboard in Malta entered the mess. The crewmembers tensed up at once on seeing that the newcomers were fully armed, carrying AK-47 assault rifles, pistols and knives, while the Russians eyed the ISIS fighters with suspicion. Acting as if they owned the place, the Islamists went to the counter where an assortment of bread, cheese, cold cuts and olives was laid, with their leader reading quickly the menu scribbled on a small chalkboard hooked to a wall. That reading seemed to incense him and he looked darkly at the cook, visible through the service wicket opening of the adjacent kitchen.
‘’Pork souvlakis?! Are you trying to force us to eat impure infidel food?’’
The Greek cook, who had not been told that the newcomers were Muslims, shrugged while wiping his hands with his apron.
‘’I’m sorry, sir, but I was not told that you needed a special diet. Besides, the supplies I have onboard are rather limited in scope. If you are ready to wait a bit, I will cook quickly some fish fillets for you and your men.’’
‘’Please do!’’ Replied the ISIS squad leader, John Wadsworth, before going to the cold buffet table. He swore to himself when he saw the cold cuts of ham and sausages.
‘’More damn infidel food!’’
One of the Spetsnaz soldiers, a beefy, muscular senior sergeant who had fought Chechen Islamist rebels in the past, took exception to that and threw Wadsworth a black look.
‘’Hey, I like my ham and sausages, so quit complaining, you black ass!’’
Wadsworth, like the rest of his men, pivoted around at once while putting one hand on his holstered pistol and looking at the Russian with murder in his eyes.
‘’You fucking godless communist! I should teach you to pay proper respect to Islam.’’
In response, the Russian senior sergeant got up from his bench and bent forward, his knuckles on the table in front of him, while staring coldly at Wadsworth.
‘’Just try, rag head!’’
One of the ISIS fighters, incensed at the Russian’s choice of words, pointed and cocked his AK-47 assault rifle, making in return the six Spetsnaz soldiers draw in a flash their pistols and point them at the Islamists, who also pointed their weapons. The crewmembers of the cargo ship, caught in the middle, froze in fear as the Russians and the Islamists faced each other with their index fingers on the triggers of their weapons. The ISIS leader had a mean smile as he stared at the Russians over the sights of his pistol.
‘’Eleven of us against the six of you, and you don’t even have rifles with you. Maybe we should kill you all right now and thus simplify our job in Turkey.’’
‘’And you would also endanger the shipment by starting a fight on this ship. Nice thinking, asshole!’’ Replied the Spetsnaz senior sergeant. Wadsworth threw him a hateful look and started pressing gradually on the trigger of his pistol, aiming at the head of the Russian. A harsh order barked in English was then shouted from the direction of the entrance of the mess.
‘’DROP YOUR GUNS, NOW!’’
Turning his head towards the door of the mess, the ISIS leader saw that Major Koslov and one of his soldiers were crouched just beside the frame of the door and were pointing their compact AKSU-74 assault rifles at him and his men. In the position the two Russians were, they had the Islamists in enfilade and could shoot down the lot of them in seconds. Containing his rage, Wadsworth slowly lowered his pistol while giving an order in Arabic to his men.
‘’Lower your guns, but keep them in your hands: we will not make ourselves defenseless against those infidels.’’
As his men obeyed him, he switched to English, addressing Koslov.
‘’We will keep our weapons with us, Koslov. That is non-negotiable.’’
Koslov debated for a moment if he should simply shoot now and get rid of these idiots, but had to decide against it: the Islamists had the passwords to allow the shipment of weapons to go through the ISIS lines in Syria.
‘’Fine, but you leave this mess now and return to eat in only one hour, without your weapons. From now on, you will have your meals after my men and the crew have eaten, so we can avoid some stupid move from you. You do otherwise and I will exterminate you and your men without hesitation. Now, GO!’’
With the other Spetsnaz still pointing their pistols at them, the ISIS fighters had no choice but to leave the mess in single file, closely watched by the Russians. However, before leaving last, Wadsworth stopped beside Koslov and stared at him with hatred.
‘’This is not over, Russky!’’
‘’Start thinking about the mission instead of turning this into a personal feud, you imbecile. Your leaders need that shipment and my leaders also want it to be delivered as contracted, so cut the crap and tell your men to cool down, for everyone’s sake. I heard by the way your comment about killing us all during the trip. Be assured that my men will be watching you and your men closely from now on. I will also make sure that your words get passed to those in higher places who negotiated the delivery of this shipment.’’
For an instant, Koslov thought that Wadsworth would jump on him, but he restrained himself and walked away at a furious pace. Koslov watched him and his men disappear past the next corner of the passageway, then looked at his men inside the mess.
‘’Finish eating quickly, men, so you can go relieve our men presently on watch. Tell them at the same time not to trust those ISIS assholes and to be on their guards when near them. Sergeant Fedukin, come see me for a moment.’’
The senior sergeant came to him at once and stopped at attention in front of Koslov.
‘’Yes, sir?’’
‘’How did this happen?’’
Fedukin answered him at once, giving him a truthful and complete description of the incident to his officer, who gave him a severe look at the end.
‘’This incident could have ruined our whole mission, Sergeant. I know that these assholes are despicable bastards, but try to avoid inflammatory words in the future. Understood?’’
‘’Yes sir!’’
‘’Good! Make sure that the men stay on guard from now on. I don’t trust for one second those fanatics. Dismissed!’’
As his big NCO returned to his table, Koslov thought with bitterness at the dilemma the coming of the ISIS fighters aboard the ship was now presenting him. Whoever had decided to send those fanatics sure didn’t think much before taking their decision. However, he was now the one stuck trying to make this impossible situation work out.