Khasab Incident (eBook)

Graham Keith (Autor)

eBook Download: EPUB

2025 | 1. Auflage
168 Seiten
Bookbaby (Verlag)
979-8-3509-9450-6 (ISBN)

Infos

An international strike force fights to free a captured warship and her crew in this high-seas adventure.

Graham Keith was born in the UK and studied catering at Derby University. After 13 years cooking, he moved to a croft on the Isle of Mull, where he met his American wife. Today, he lives in New Hampshire with his wife and dog.

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Nothing seems awry when a British warship is sent on her last voyage before being scrapped for parts. A routine stop in Khasab to refuel turns into a nightmare when Omani revolutionists take the ship hostage, imprisoning most of the crew and officers on board. Will a new international strike force of English, American and Russian combat troops be able to free the sailors and bring the cruiser home.

Textauszug

2

Five years later

The old farmhouse sat only fifty yards from the side of the road in Bradford, Maine. Built in 1868, it had been updated over the years until it now boasted of having some 3000 square feet of living space. A woodshed and mud room attached to one end joined the farmhouse to a large, old, red painted horse barn with a tack room jutting out of the front. Falling away in front of the house were some 60 acres of hay fields. Another 200 acres of woodland with a few acres of bog land were thrown in for good measure.

The current owner had obviously continued with the updating. The house and barn have been updated with new siding, paint, and sliding doors.

It was the interior of the barn that had changed dramatically, though. Gone were the horse stalls, feed rooms and foaling stalls, and the hayloft had been removed. In their place, eight double bedrooms had been built where the hayloft had been and a kitchen, lounge, and an assortment of conference rooms had replaced the horse stalls.

Eight men and four women were gathered in one of the conference rooms. They had arrived the night before and had only had a few hours to get to know each other before assembling here. Although they were all volunteers, none of them knew what they were doing here and what they were going to be asked to do.

Every eye went to the door as it opened. An old man slowly entered and, leaning heavily on a cane, made his way to the front of the room. He appeared to be in his late sixties or early seventies. His overlong white hair framed a face whose skin was sagging slightly through age, with fine wrinkles at the corners of his eyes and mouth. Dressed in modern army BDU’s he looked like an old version of Vietnam soldiers seen in photos after spending months in the jungle. Reaching the front of the room, he turned to face them and slowly raised a shaking hand in greeting.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” he said in a thin, trembling, high-pitched voice. “You are all probably wondering what exactly you have all volunteered for and why you are all here. I am sure you have all realized by now that you have been drawn from elite units of the British, Russian, and American armed forces. The British SAS and SBS, from the American Delta and Marine Force Recon and the Russian Spetsnaz, to name but a few. It is our job here to instruct and train you, should you decide to stay, and build you into a team of experts unknown in the armed forces today. To blend in, and pass yourselves off as natives of any country, to gather intel and, if required, conduct rescue and covert missions.

I am sure you all know each other by now and therefore have no need for introductions. I have observed each of you during your regular duties, over the past few months, I also have no need for introductions. Now, before I introduce myself and our mission statement, I need to clarify that our lives may depend upon us knowing everything about each other. You will be asked, should you decide to stay, to fill out a questionnaire that will be shared with all members here. You will be asked about your favorite foods, superstitions, flaws, and strengths. When we talk about ourselves here, we tell everything, both good and bad, so in the end we all know each other as well as ourselves.

I am Sir Alisdair Gordon, Laird of Lochdonhead, and am also known as Bottach to both my friends and enemies alike. Both my parents are still with us and living in England. I was once a young lieutenant in the SBS until I was deemed medically unfit for service. In 1983, I moved over to the British SIS.”

“Harrods IRA car bombing.” Said a voice. “I thought I recognized the name. Led dozens of people to safety, then went back in and held back a pile of rubble until rescuers could pull a ten-year-old out. Quite a hero for a while and knighted for it. Did something to your back, if I recall.”

Gordon smiled. “You have an excellent memory, young man. I noticed that during your observation..

There was a sudden noise at the door which burst open to admit a huge Irish Wolfhound closely followed by a smallish man in fatigues.

“Ah everyone. This is Sgt. Major Patterson and Calliach. I leave it to you to decide who is who”

“Still at it?” asked Patterson with a smile.

“Yep. And we have a bright one here. Sgt. Patterson. Adrian. Would you care to tell us all what’s bothering you?”

The man who had talked about the Harrods bombing sat straighter in his chair and looked at Alisdair. “Well, sir. If you are who you say you are, then there’s no way you can be as old as, well, as old as you look.”

Alisdair smiled back at Adrian. “Nicely put.” He said, leaning his stick on the podium. “Would you do the honors Sargent?”

“With pleasure,” replied Patterson.

Walking over to Gordon, he produced a hairbrush and comb from his back pocket and brushed Gordon’s hair. Slowly, the long, white hair disappeared, leaving a full head of black hair. When Patterson had finished, Gordon slowly straightened up to his full six foot two inches and his chest seamed to expand to fill his BDUs. Within a minute, the old man was completely gone, replaced by a tall, muscular man of about forty.

“People!” he said. “For the last thirty minutes, you have sat and listened to a boring old fart and only one of you questioned what he knew with what he saw. Some of you may think it unfair to do this to you on your first day. We like to think of it as your first lesson. In three weeks’ time you will be expected to complete a mission using the skills you will learn here. The biggest lesson here is that you can get away with almost anything, if people don’t know what to expect, and believe you to be who you appear to be. We will teach you how to become someone else, how to spot impostors and what to do when you find one.. Now I will leave you to the tender mercies of Sgt. Patterson. I know he has lots of things to tell you.”

Gordon walked back to the door, stopping long enough to pat Adrian on the shoulder, whisper a “Well done”. He whistled to Calliach and left the room, smiling to himself while closing the door quietly behind him.

Three weeks later, Alisdair and Patterson sat in two rocking chairs out on the porch, enjoying the early morning sun. Gordon looked towards the brook that ran through the bottom of the field in front of them.

“Trout should rise about now,” he said wishfully, looking over to where a fly rod and creel stood propped up in a corner. “So, how are we doing? Do we have any good ones? From what I have seen, there’s a lot of dead wood, which means we need to upgrade our recruiting protocol.”

“Well, we lost four of them after the first week. Just couldn’t get their heads round what we wanted. We had one out with a broken leg after the second week and one who froze in the water- filled trench during a live firing exercise.” Patterson laughed. “He was lucky we got to him before he drowned. We lost one who wouldn’t jump out of the plane during the parachute exercise and one who thought he was better than everyone else and expected to lead every exercise. He didn’t think we should be canning him and I had to put his ass on the bus myself. We are now down to four that are showing good promise. Adrian Carter, Mitzi Ludmiller, Joseph Aguilar, and Philip Cane. Those four are exceptional. The rest?” Patterson shrugged. “Well, they just didn’t make it.”

“OK. Well, let’s really work on those four. I want them ready to go in three weeks. Call them in. I want to give them their mission now, so they can have a think about how to complete it.”

An hour later, the four were assembled in the conference room when Alisdair walked in and sat at the head of the table.

“Lady and Gentlemen,” he began. “Congratulations on making it through the initial training. Since you are the only ones to do so, you should be proud of yourselves. It is now time for us all to really get to know you. At the beginning, we all need to know everything about you, good and bad. Without this, there is no way we all can fully know how you will react when the shit hits the fan. I am sure that you all know something about each other. Now is the time to fill in the blanks, starting with myself.”

Alisdair stood up and smiled at everyone. “Now. I like to read books on military history, and relax by going fishing and playing the pipes. Some people don’t find my playing relaxing, so I take myself off to the woods.”

Patterson laughed at that and rolled his eyes. “I have no superstitions and I love Filet Du beef Wellington, which I eat after every assignment. For 90% of your time here, you will usually see me with my dog Calliach. You will find me patient and understanding, but also a perfectionist and hard taskmaster. My biggest talent, and what you will learn, is that given half an hour I can mimic any accent. Blend in and virtually disappear into a crowd, convincingly become a doctor, priest, cab driver, or any other person who I want to be.”

“Ok. Adrian, you are next.”

Adrian rose and moved to the front. Standing some five foot ten inches, he had dark brown hair that had grown somewhat longer than was allowed in the military. With brown eyes and a five o’clock shadow, he was beginning, even with his well muscled body, not to look like a well-trained soldier. “My name is Adrian Carter. I am twenty-three years old, born in Sheffield, Yorkshire UK, and am a squad leader in the British Special Boat Squadron. I enjoy a pint of beer and a pork pie, but if you...

Produkt-Details

• Erscheint lt. Verlag: 16.4.2025
• Sprache: englisch
• Themenwelt: Literatur ► Romane / Erzählungen
• ISBN-13: 979-8-3509-9450-6 / 9798350994506