Archeology and Espionage
By
UCSBdad
Disclaimer: I don't own Castle, Beckett, Nikki Heat, the Middle East…but you know that. Rating: K Time: in the near future after the story The Treasure of the Penelope.
"Please, Doctor Fields. I'm a graduate of the Culinary Arts Institute of San Francisco. I am a chef and not a cook. The Explorer's Club asked me to come along. They're rather hoping that they can get more first-class archeological expeditions to lease the Helen of Troy. And since an army marches on its stomach, as they say, what better way to impress people than to have a first-class chef aboard. The rest of the crew was provided by another organization, of course."
Jimmy pointed to the menu written on a blackboard.
"We're having just soup and sandwiches today. Might I suggest the pastrami and Swiss cheese with a side of homemade potato salad and Boston bean soup?"
"If that's what the chef recommends, that's what I'll have." Rick said.
Everyone else agreed.
Once done with an excellent lunch, Kate said she had one more surprise for him.
"What kind of surprise?"
"You'll see."
She took his hand and led him through the ship, stopping at a stateroom door.
"This is the suite for the head of the expedition and her husband." She opened the door. "Ta da."
"This is huge. The bed is huge. The bathroom is huge. God, even the window is huge. I might get lost in here."
"Luckily you have me to lead you to the bed, soldier."
"Good idea." He said with a grin.
"But we have a briefing scheduled in fifteen minutes."
"Curses, foiled again."
By the next day the remainder of the troops from the USS Wake Island had arrived as had both helicopters. The helicopters, however, landed at an Israeli air base for the time being. Warrant Officer Wozniak was happy that they'd been painted in a grey paint that would help to camouflage the aircraft against the sea haze at low level.
The swimmer delivery vehicles had also arrived and were hoisted aboard the Helen of Troy. The minisub was too large to come aboard their ship and would follow them through the Suez Canal and on to the coast of Saudi Arabia. Rick did meet the skipper of the sub, Chief Petty Officer Don Brown. Brown had been with the boat since it had been launched and described his job as the best in the Navy.
Swimmer delivery vehicles were very small submarines that could carry six SEALs in addition to two crew. However, everyone rode on the outside of the SDV and not on the inside.
"No offense, Colonel… Er, Rick, but I'm on my own aboard the Tsunami, or Sweet Sue, as we call her, with no officers above me. At least not on the boat. And big Navy pretty much leaves me alone. They're so used to dealing with nuclear carriers and boomers, they usually forget all about little old me."
"Just so you know, Chief, we won't be going anywhere but into Saudi waters and international waters. There'll be no going into anybody's coastal waters. You should be able to keep an eye on our Chinese neighbors from international waters."
"Hmm. You know, I seem to have heard a rumor about you and the…"
"And remember that's just a rumor. Nothing like that ever happened."
"Of course not."
They were busy loading supplies when trouble arrived.
"Someone's coming and they look mad." Diamond said. "And me with no weapon. One chick and a whole bunch of suits. That's gotta mean trouble."
"Big trouble for me." Ron Fields said. "That's my ex-wife, Grace and it looks like she's brought a whole law firm with her."
Grace and three lawyers stopped at the bottom of the gangplank and stared up at Ron while going through some papers. Hearing the commotion, Ron and Diamond were joined by Rick, Kate, Lauren Graham, Marcy Wallace, and Ellie Brunner.
The four walked up the gangplank with Grace in the lead.
"Hello, Grace, what brings you to this part of the world?" Ron asked, as politely as he could.
Grace ran a scathing eye over his companions.
"I might have known that after Marie, you'd be surrounded by bimbos." She snapped.
As it happened, Kate was wearing a brief pair of shorts and a tee shirt. Graham also had on shorts and a crop top and while it didn't make her look any more pulchritudinous, it did accent her long legs and hard abs. Wallace had on her bikini bottoms and a very tight and very wet tee shirt. Her nipples were quite visible. Ellie Brunner had on shorts and a blouse.
Ellie smiled at Grace.
"Oh, dear, don't worry. I'm sure we all look like sex goddesses compared to you, but you should use your assets. In many cultures a behind the size of yours is considered quite sexy."
Grace opened her mouth, but nothing came out.
One of the suits stepped forward.
"Perhaps we should just cut to the chase. I'm David Bixby of Bixby, Morland and Crowe. We represent Mrs. Fields. We have a proposition for you. Rather than endless court cases trying to force you to support your ex-wife, we propose a one-time settlement, ending all of this. We have a contract for your perusal."
"A one-time settlement?" Ron said, scanning the contract. "This seems like a very substantial settlement. Very, very substantial."
"We're sure that you'll be wanting to get back to New York and resume your practice and leave this odd life you've been forced into behind you. You should be able to pay this off in no time."
"Forced?" Ron said. "I'll admit at first, I was a bit wary of the military life, but as you can see, I've thrived. In fact, I'm thinking of staying in for a full thirty years.
"Thirty years?" Grace squealed.
"And once I've retired from the Army, I plan to spend my time on jobs such as this. I've been able to take leave from the Army to join an archeological expedition to the wilds of Saudi Arabia. Since I'm still paid by the Army even when on leave, I receive no salary for this. And when I have my military retirement to support me, I'll be able to offer my services to expeditions of one sort or another at a very reasonable rate."
"What you make from the Army is a pittance!" Grace screamed.
"And it's unlikely you'll see any of that pittance. "Ron said with a very happy grin on his face. "I believe that the last time you went to Federal Court, the judge suggested you might consider getting a job."
"You'll regret this." Grace snarled.
"Perhaps he will." Kate said. "But I'd like you off my ship now. I have an archeological expedition to run and you're taking up valuable time. Off. Now."
Grace glared at Kate, but Bixby took her arm and slowly led her down the gangplank.
Wallace threw her arms around Ron.
"You were so masterful, Ron. You have no idea how that turns me on."
Graham grabbed Ron by the arm.
"No fair. It's my turn with Ronnykins."
"Please, ladies, there's enough of me for everyone."
Grace turned purple and screamed obscenities at one and all.
"I can't imagine why you married her." Rick said.
"She can be quite charming when it suits her." Ron said. "But only when it suits her."
"We're almost done with loading supplies, so we'll be leaving at first light tomorrow. Everyone make sure you have everything you need, since we'll be a long way from anywhere in Saudi Arabia."
The Helen of Troy left very early the next morning. The two helicopters flew out from Haifa and landed on the helo deck and were pushed into their hangar. The minisub followed them at a slower pace. They didn't want the Helen of Troy and the sub going through the Suez Canal together. That might make some people curious.
They sailed on through the Red Sea and were very glad that the ship had a first-class air conditioning system.
Rick looked at a map of their area of operations.
"Where are we going exactly?" He asked Kate.
"It's just a strip of desert coast and has no name. We've been calling it the Site. Seems as good a name as any."
Rick nodded and wrote on the map.
"There. The Site is now marked on our map."
"Ship headed our way." That was Captain John Smith, doubtlessly an alias provided by an unimaginative CIA paper pusher.
"What kind?" Kate asked.
"A warship and he's got a bone in his teeth."
Kate frowned and looked at Rick.
"The ship's going fast and is pushing up a wave of white water. Makes it look sort of like a bone."
The two headed for the bridge.
"The bastard's heading right for us." Smith yelled, sounding the ship's horn as he did. "We have the damned right of way."
"He's flying an Iranian flag." Rick said, using his binoculars.
"Shit." Smith muttered. "It's probably the Iranian Revolutionary Guard Corps Navy ship Martyr Commodore Tangsiri. They call if a destroyer, but it's the size of a frigate and armed like something out of the 1950s. But it's got plenty of firepower to take us out."
Smith edged his ship to port and the Iranian ship passed within about twenty yards of the Helen of Troy. The few crewmen on the ship stonily ignored the American ship.
"Does that mean they know who and what we are?" Kate asked.
"I don't know." Rick replied.
"Maybe, maybe not." Smith said. "The do that shit all the time with everyone, especially the US Navy in the Gulf. It's their way of saying they're not afraid of the big, bad superpower. The few times they did try conclusions with the Navy, they got their clocks cleaned."
"We're not the US Navy." Kate said.
"Anyone else we should know about?" Rick asked.
"They do keep a Bandar Abbas class auxiliary in the Red Sea, usually closer to Yemen. They're repurposed merchant ships, but they mount light weapons, and are motherships for speedboats armed with rocket propelled grenades and heavy machine guns. They might also carry minisubs, smaller than ours, more like our swimmer delivery vehicles. They also transship, weapons, propaganda, equipment and personnel to any bad actors on the Red Sea coastline. Not all jihadis, either. Some are just local pirates or smugglers, but they keep everyone busy and not worrying about the Iranians."
The remainder of their trip down the Red Sea was peaceful. Late one afternoon they stopped at an unremarkable stretch of desolate Saudi coast.
"There's nothing there." Ron said as they all gathered on the portside of the ship.
"Wrong." Rick said, using his binoculars. "There are Saudi soldiers there. Maybe a dozen. I expect one will be Colonel Nayef and the rest his merry men. We should go ashore and meet them."
The Site
"Welcome to Saudi Arabia, Colonel Rodgers. I'm Colonel Khaled Nayef, Saudi Special Forces. I have a company of my men here, one hundred and twelve to be exact. Like me, they're all Bedu, what you call Bedouin." The colonel sighed. "The last of a dying breed I expect. Saudis these days live in cities and go to colleges. Oh, I know, the next generation of Bedu will fly fighter jets and man missile sites, but I feel something will be lost when that happens. But, come, let me show you what we've done."
"You've been working here?" Rick asked.
"Us and a company of engineers. We've built bunkers for everyone. We have a command bunker for you and me, a bunker for Dr. Beckett, a medical bunker for Doctor Fields and enough bunkers for everyone. Come see. They're on the reverse slope of the ridge that runs along the coast."
Rick found the bunkers to be spectacular, militarily speaking.
"Steel reinforced concrete, steel armor, even air conditioning. You have the electrical generators dug in as well. Do you expect trouble?"
Nayef laughed.
"I always expect trouble, Colonel Rodgers. So, I do my best to prepare for it. This is the Middle East, as you Americans call it. The Saudi archeology students will be here tomorrow. They were a bit delayed. Their leader is a Dr. al-Ansari. He's just gotten his PhD from Oxford and he's very nervous about leading his very first dig."
TBC
