Operation Caribe Read Free

can understand every reason you would want to turn it down. It seems lose-lose no matter how one looks at it. But I felt I owed it to you to ask.”
    Nolan looked at the rest of the team. Each man tapped his own ear twice.
    Finally Nolan asked, “Can my associates and I have a few minutes to talk?”
    *   *   *
    THE TEAM WALKED toward the front of the boat, emerging onto the bow.
    Zamal followed and kept an eye on them from a respectful distance. The five Americans were soon locked in an intense discussion.
    The Saudi intelligence officer couldn’t imagine what they were talking about. They were being offered a job that could only result in their deaths. What was there to discuss?
    Yet, ten minutes later, they were back in the captain’s galley.
    “Twelve million,” Nolan told el Saud.
    The prince was shocked. “Are you certain?” he asked. “The chances you’ll survive are almost nil.”
    “Then make it fifteen,” Nolan said. “You’ll only have to pay us if we succeed, so what difference does it make?”
    The Prince thought a moment, then asked: “Seriously?”
    Nolan looked at his colleagues. Each man touched his chin.
    “Seriously,” Nolan replied. “We’ll take the job.”
    Once again silence descended over the galley. The prince and the ONI man plainly were shocked the team was going ahead with it. Even Dr. Bobol looked incredulous.
    Again, Zamal broke the tension. “What do you need from us then?” he asked Nolan.
    The Team Whiskey leader thought a moment, then said: “First of all, Doctor, please draw us a diagram of exactly where the pirates stood when you went aboard and while you were being searched.”
    “And second?” Zamal asked.
    Nolan indicated the four large bundles of money. “We’ve got to put that into a few wooden crates and nail them tight,” he said. “We know what it’s like to carry loose bills on a helicopter.”
    *   *   *
    WHILE THE OTHER team members visited various cabins within the yacht in preparation for the mission, Nolan climbed up to the bridge and got on the radio.
    He called the pirates on the LNG carrier ten miles away. The gang’s leader answered.
    Nolan’s first words were: “We’ve got a problem.”
    “Who is this?” the pirate asked in heavily accented English.
    “The people you insisted deliver the ransom to you.”
    “You are the Americans? The Whiskey people?”
    “Yes.”
    The pirate leader said something to someone off the mic. Nolan heard muffled laughter in the background.
    “They have the ransom,” Nolan told him. “I just saw them count it. Two hundred million in five-hundred-dollar bills.”
    More laughter.
    “So—what is this problem?” the pirate leader asked.
    “That much money weighs almost a half a ton,” Nolan replied. “And we have only a small utility helicopter. Yet delivering it that way is the only option. We can’t parachute it because that would require a large plane, and it would be a rough landing on that deck. And I understand you don’t want it delivered by sea, is that correct?”
    “Yes, it is,” the pirate replied. “Do you have a solution, then?”
    “We’ll have to break it up into wooden crates,” Nolan replied. “And deliver them one at a time. There’s no other way.”
    A long silence on the other end of the line.
    “How many people work for your company?” the pirate asked.
    “We are five.”
    “Are they all with you now?”
    “Yes.”
    Another silence, and then the pirate spoke again: “We’d be fools to trust you, so this is what you must do. Deliver the first crate—and leave your four men behind. Deliver the other crates—we make sure the money count is right, then the ship is yours and we let the crew go.”
    “Along with me and my men?” Nolan added.
    “Yes—of course,” the pirate said quickly.
    “One hour,” Nolan told him, again hearing more laughter from the other end. “You can expect us then.”
    Forty-five minutes later
    COLONEL ZAMAL WAS standing