Jean-Paul Moreau, who had perfect command of English, was catching the BBC on a small Sony ICF-PR080 in Command Central, keeping abreast of the news. The World Service was just winding up its morning broadcast, circumspect as always.
"… A reminder of the main story: there are unconfirmed rumors emanating from the southern Aegean that an American naval vessel, the USS Glover, was attacked by a helicopter gunship late last evening, with considerable damage and loss of life. It is said the gunship was Israeli. No confirmation or denial of this report has yet been issued by the government in Tel Aviv. And that's the end of the news from London…"
"Guess we had a hit." He laughed, then switched frequencies and started monitoring the military channels.
Ramirez had also heard the broadcast, with satisfaction. The attack would soon blossom into a world event, with accusations flying. After that had played its course, he would drop his bombshell.
Now it was daylight. Time to begin phase three of the operation.
It had been a productive night. The first order of business had been to off-load their hardware. In addition to the Uzis they had carried in, they had broken out a compliment of AK- 47s. The Germans had also brought out and limbered up a crate of MK760 submachine guns, fully automatic with folding stocks, as well as some Czech mortars and grenade launchers.
That was finished by 0300 hours, after which the men caught catnaps, rotating to keep at least three on guard at all times. Now that the test had gone off successfully, most of the facility staff was lounging at the blank terminals, dazed.
Ramirez, however, had no intention of letting the SatCom staff become rested. He looked over the room at the young engineers, all of whom were showing the first signs of hostage behavior. They were frightened, stressed, tired-already in the early stages of "hostile dependency." Soon they would melt, become totally pliable. But to achieve that, they could not be allowed to get enough sleep. Food also had to be kept to a minimum.
Most importantly, all telephone and computer linkages with the outside world had been cut-with the exception of one. The single telephone remaining was on the main desk down at the other end of Command. Otherwise, Peretz had methodically shut down everything, including the telemetry equipment located up on the mountain. While they would need to reactivate it later on, for the moment they could keep it on standby.
Peretz had proved reliable so far, Ramirez told himself. The man was seasoned and competent, unlike the young Muslims who acted first and thought later. An operation like this required precision, not unbridled impetuosity, which was why he valued the Israeli so highly…
As he surveyed Command, he decided it was time for champagne. He had brought a small bottle, a split of Dom… But what was champagne without the company of a beautiful woman. He turned toward Miss Andros-
"Merde!"
His meditations were interrupted by the startled voice of Moreau.
"There's a Mayday on one-twenty-one point five megahertz. It's so close, I think someone is transmitting from here on the island."
Ramirez cursed, while the buzz in Command subsided. Then Moreau continued.
"In English. He's talking about the Glover, and he's giving our location."
"Probably one of the guards." Ramirez paused, thinking. "But how could he know about the Glover?"
"Maybe he's in the Hind, monitoring the radio," Helling said, rubbing at his balding skull. "We-"
"You brought backup. Time to use it." Ramirez turned and beckoned for the three ex-Stasi: Schindler, Maier, and Sommer. It was time for the three monkeys to start earning their keep. "Go out to the chopper," he barked to them in German, "and handle it. You know what to do."
They nodded seriously and checked their Uzis. They knew exactly.