Maltese Steel

Chapter 10

CHAPTER TEN

James Calver sat at his computer, tracking a fishing boat coming from Tunisia and travelling fast. Calver had zoomed the satellite image in as far as he dared.

A few crew members were visible on deck, each dressed in waterproofs and going about their business. But something seemed wrong. Calver used the computer to check the vessel out. A fishing boat out of Egypt called the Al-Thar. Calver dialled a number and placed on a headset.

‘Charlie two-four, we have a vessel on approach to sector fifteen from La Goulette. Be advised the vessel is on a fast approach,’ Calver said.

‘Roger that,’ a voice said. ‘Charlie two-four, two minutes. Out.’

Calver smiled as he watched as three small shapes leave the USS Nemesis, the aircraft carrier on operations in the area. They would have to wait until the ship was in Maltese water before they could do anything. The vessel held a steady course for the west side of Malta.

Possibly one of the quiet beaches.

Calver’s suspicions were confirmed.

The vessel was undoubtedly a drop-off boat. Probably the ship Intel had warned of. A group of radicals hoping to get into the US, through Malta via the UK.

Unfortunately, the source had failed to provide pictures or names, so the whole crew was suspect. Guilty until proved innocent was the way things went since 911.

After the influx of people pouring into Europe, claiming to be Syrian refugees, security measures had gotten tighter everywhere. Before, it had been easy to spot a possible infiltration. Now, it was a damned nightmare. That’s where the new system would come in.

Brand new facial recognition software would be linked to every country. It was fool-proof for spotting known terrorists in seconds. Even if they had a facial disguise.

The new system had proven to be ninety-nine per cent accurate. However, the bad guys were getting smarter. And that was a problem.

The new system had been trialled by all the agencies. In four days, it was due to come online. Until then, the people of Section G would have to stay alert and be on the ball.

Calver leaned back in his chair and ran his fingers through his blonde hair as the black hawk helicopters approached the ship.

Calver was twenty-five and working for the man. Snatched up from MIT for being a computer whiz. He remembered the day the Agency poached him. Remembered how the sound of being an agent gave him visions of working overseas, sipping vodka martinis and beautiful bedding women. They never mentioned being stuck nearly fifteen stories underground in a nuclear blast-proof rabbit hole.

His blue eyes fixed on the screen as the helicopters hovered above the ship. The orders from the team leader rang in his ear like running commentary. The yells and shouts of command, ‘Let’s go boys and keep it tight and by the numbers. Kowalski and d***s, you got point.’ There was zipping noise as the commander used the abseil rope. Then the sound of military boots hammering on steel deck flooring made it sound like a radio sketch. On another monitor, he had the helmet camera feeds. Live footage was reordered for playback if required.

‘Zero, this Charlie two-four, the target is secure. Zero casualties. Awaiting escort for pickup of the package. Zero, be advised package is full. I repeat, the package is full,’ said the voice.

‘Roger that Charlie-two-four, good job and nice catch,’ Calver said. Relieved at the lack of casualties, he sat back in his chair and blew out a sigh of relief. He stood up and stretched.

The five hours sat on his ass had taken its toll.

The shift was twelve hours, with an hour break in the middle. Janis would come around with a drinks trolley, offering refreshments so that they did not have to leave the desks.

The section chiefs had at least been generous and said they could make their workspace their own. Calver had several comic book superhero bobbleheads and a plastic cactus on his desk. Whereas others had pictures of their families or cars. The bosses had figured that a homely feel improved working conditions. The idea was fewer people went sick, and morale would be better, making the place more efficient.

Calver shook off his five-foot-nine frame and did some short arm and back exercises. He could feel the pain in his lower back subside as he touched his toes. But it came back as he straightened out. Twelve hours sat down sounded dreamy, but it had its downsides. For some of Calver’s colleagues, it was too much junk food and a lack of exercise. For others, it was the absence of quick smoke breaks.

In his two years here, he had seen people come and go, but he stuck it out. His transfer applications had gone through to an office in Washington weeks ago. Now, it was a case of keeping his mouth shut, do a good job, and wait.

Calver looked at his screen and saw the patrol boats surround the ship, then the Black Hawks left. The destroyers wouldn’t be too far away.

Mission accomplished.

The ship would be searched by bomb disposal units. They would do a sweep with sniffer dogs for explosives and traps. The crew would be kept on board the vessel until it was deemed necessary and safe to transfer them onto a holding facility. He tried to imagine what full was. Apparently, his interpretation and the team leaders differed. Amount and content mattered to the people upstairs. It mattered to him because a big score could get him noticed. However, the section chief wasn’t there; he had to have some personal time apparently. Today was not the day for him to be nursing his kid’s flu. Today of all days, he should be there to witness Calver’s glory.