Operation Black Shark Read online

  About the Book

  It’s sink or swim time for our canine hero.

  When Sergeant Ben Fulton’s family joins him on a cruise ship holiday, Ben, Josh, Maddie and Nan travel in luxury among the islands of the Caribbean while Caesar is in quarantine.

  But a gang who have broken out of a Cuban prison have other ideas. They hijack the massive ship and hold its three thousand passengers to ransom.

  With passengers of all nationalities in danger, only the United Nations can step in to help. Ben’s best friend, Charlie, and the rest of the GRRR team assemble. Charlie will need super-sniffing explosive detection dog Caesar with him as he parachutes in to sneak aboard the ship.

  Will Caesar and Ben be reunited in time to find the hidden explosive devices that threaten the ship? Can Operation Black Shark capture the modern-day pirates before it’s too late?

  Contents

  About the Book

  Title Page

  Dedication

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  List of Military Terms

  Glossary of Spanish Terms

  Fact File

  About the Author

  Also by Stephen Dando-Collins

  Caesar the War Dog

  Caesar the War Dog: Operation Blue Dragon

  Caesar the War Dog: Operation Pink Elephant

  Caesar the War Dog: Green Parrot

  Tank Boys

  Copyright Notice

  For Louise, my terrier of a wife,

  and Richard, my bulldog of a literary agent.

  Caesar’s tail was wagging. He was enjoying this fall through the night sky with the air rushing past his snout. Several thousand feet below lay the Caribbean island of Antigua. From up here, the island was a black mass surrounded by the silvered Caribbean Sea sparkling in the moonlight. Caesar’s handler, Sergeant Ben Fulton, patted Caesar reassuringly on the flank. The brown labrador looked up at Ben through the doggles that protected his eyes and tried to stretch up to lick him on the face, but his harness prevented him.

  For covert parachute drops, EDDs are strapped onto the front of their handlers, hanging there like a sack of potatoes. It wasn’t the most elegant of arrangements, but it was practical. It kept dog and handler together. As clever as Caesar was, he couldn’t pull a ripcord to open his chute, or tug parachute lines to adjust the course and speed of his drop. That was Ben’s job. It was Ben who’d had to learn to land on his feet with a forty-five-kilo labrador strapped to his belly, leaning back to maintain balance and ensure he didn’t fall forward onto his dog and possibly injure him.

  They were suspended beneath a rectangular black silk parachute that Ben could steer left and right. As if using a hang-glider, he dragged the shrouds connecting him to the chute one way or the other. He was aiming for a blinking red light on the ground below, although, through Ben’s night-vision goggles, the light was flashing green. Corporal Chris Banner from the British Royal Navy’s Special Boat Service and Corporal Casper Mortenson from Denmark’s Hunter Corps, GRRR’s two most experienced water operatives, had landed on a small beach on the island’s south coast. They had swum from a small boat operated by the Antigua Coast Guard, which sat a kilometre offshore. The pair had then climbed a twenty-metre cliff, slowly and carefully to ensure they weren’t spotted.

  Chris and Casper had set up the landing beacon once they were on dry land, after locating a suitable expanse for the full team’s LZ. Around Ben and Caesar, nine other GRRR operatives were also gliding to earth, armed and ready for action. It wasn’t practical for the entire team to land from the sea the way Chris and Casper had done. The climb up the cliff was slow, and if a dozen men had made the ascent there was more chance of them being seen. More importantly, Caesar couldn’t climb cliffs. Besides, parachute drops were swift and silent and permitted jumpers to carry more equipment than the pair scaling the cliff.

  The descent by parachute was almost leisurely but, as usual, in the last seconds of the drop, the earth seemed to rush up to meet Ben. As his feet touched solid ground, he deliberately leaned back to protect Caesar. Under the weight of dog, pack and body equipment, Ben landed awkwardly, with his back thumping into hard earth and rock. In an instant, pain shot down Ben’s left leg, jolting him as if he’d received an electric shock.

  Ben gasped involuntarily.

  Caesar glanced around with a concerned look on his face as if to say, Are you okay, boss?

  The pain continued without pause. It took Ben’s breath away, forcing him to arch his back to try to escape it.

  Private Willy Wolf, GRRR’s combat medic from Germany’s Kommando Spezialkräfte Special Forces unit came trotting over to them in his black combat gear and night-vision-equipped Kevlar helmet. ‘Are you hurt?’ he whispered, dropping to one knee beside Ben. He set down his M4 carbine.

  ‘I don’t know what it is,’ Ben confessed, panting for breath. ‘It feels like I stood on an exposed electrical wire.’

  ‘Ah. Sounds to me like nerve pain, my friend,’ Willy said. ‘You could have pinched a nerve when you landed. I cannot give you a painkiller for that. Does not work.’

  ‘I’m fine,’ Ben assured him. He propped himself up on his elbows, his face contorting with pain.

  ‘Here. We will get Caesar unhitched.’ Willy unfastened the harness that held the labrador in place. Caesar slid onto his four legs, then immediately turned to Ben and tried to lick his face to show his concern.

  Ben laughed and patted his partner. ‘It’s okay, mate. I’ll be fine.’

  ‘Can you stand?’ Willy asked.

  ‘Sure I can.’ Ben pulled himself to his feet, and as he did he was hit with a fresh bolt of pain so severe that the blood drained from his face. Biting his lip, he stretched his left leg behind him and grabbed his foot with his left hand, as if he were fighting cramp. That seemed to make the pain go away. ‘That’s better.’ He sighed with relief. ‘Maybe it was only a cramp.’

  Willy looked unconvinced. ‘Did it feel like cramp?’

  ‘Not really,’ Ben admitted. ‘My entire leg was on fire, from the backside down.’

  Willy nodded knowingly. ‘That is the sciatic nerve, my friend.’

  ‘That’s an old man’s complaint,’ Ben returned with a frown, setting his foot back on the ground. Again, pain lanced down his leg, forcing a grimace onto his face.

  ‘Can you go on? Or do you want to abort?’ Willy asked.

  ‘Abort? Me?’ Ben smiled through his pain. ‘Mate, I’m fine.’ Knowing that he and Caesar were vital members of the team, a little discomfort wasn’t going to hold Ben back. With Caesar looking up at him worriedly, Ben unhitched a canteen from his belt and took a gulp of water. Water was always a swift remedy for muscle cramp and he hoped it worked on nerve pain, too. But it didn’t. He offered the canteen to Caesar next, but Caesar wasn’t thirsty.

  Team leader Sergeant Charlie Grover VC jogged up to them. ‘What’s the hold-up?’ he called in a hushed voice. Like all the team members, Charlie was on loan to the United Nations’ GRRR, in his case from Australia’s Special Air Service R
egiment (SASR).

  ‘No hold-up, Charlie,’ Ben assured his best friend. ‘We’re good to go.’

  Willy looked at Ben doubtfully.

  ‘Truly,’ Ben said. ‘Good to go.’

  ‘Then, let’s move out,’ Charlie said, before jogging off into the night.

  ‘Roger that.’ Ignoring the pain in his leg, Ben squatted down beside Caesar and removed his doggles, stowing them in a pouch on his belt. Then he fitted a short metal leash to Caesar’s collar. ‘Let’s go, mate.’

  Gritting his teeth, Ben jogged off, following Charlie. Caesar loped along beside him with a wagging tail. Willy bent to collect his carbine and followed. Left and right, others were moving through the darkness in the same direction. Casper, meanwhile, switched off the homing beacon and stuffed it into his pack. All team members were now on the ground and moving to their assigned positions. The long, thin headland they’d landed on jutted into the sea like a giant finger. A squat mansion sat at the far end, in gardens sealed off by a high, thick concrete wall that ran from one side to the other. This walled-off section was like a fingernail on the finger. A five-hundred-metre driveway ran from the fingernail over rocky ground back to the knuckle. And at the knuckle there was another wall, sealing the finger off from the mainland with a gate watched over by a gatehouse.

  Ahead of Ben and Caesar rose the compound wall. Forty metres below, on either side of the compound, waves crashed upon the rocky shore. Here was the secluded Antiguan holiday home of British rock star Ronnie Dowd. All around Antigua, the rich and famous from America and Britain had holiday homes.

  Local gangsters had invaded Ronnie Dowd’s house while Dowd, his family and several friends were celebrating the rock star’s birthday. The gang was demanding ten million dollars ransom for the release of their thirteen high-profile captives. The little Caribbean republic of Antigua and Barbuda had a population of eighty thousand people. Its police force was small, its army less than three hundred strong. With no experience in hostage situations, the government of Antigua and Barbuda had turned to the United Nations for help. That was where the UN’s Global Rapid Reaction Responders came in, with the twelve members of the team summoned from armies around the world with the simple activation code ‘rice for water’.

  Ben and Caesar came to a stop beside Bendigo Baz, who was on one knee with a Minimi light machinegun cradled in his arms.

  ‘Any movement?’ Ben whispered, forcing the pain in his leg to the back of his mind and sinking down beside his comrade.

  Baz, a trooper with the Australian SAS, shook his head. ‘Nah, as quiet as a graveyard,’ he replied.

  ‘Beta One to Alpha One, Teega Two in view,’ came an American voice in the earpieces of all the members of the team. It was Sergeant Duke Hazard, a US Green Beret and GRRR’s 2IC on the ground. He was leading the four-man Beta Team, made up of Sergeant Tim McHenry, Corporal Brian Cisco, Private Toushi Harada and himself, to secure the gatehouse back along the finger. ‘No movement here.’

  ‘Beta One from Alpha One, copy that,’ Charlie responded. ‘Keep us posted. Out.’

  ‘That’s a roger. Out.’

  From aerial surveillance, GRRR knew that the kidnap gang had three well-armed men at the gatehouse, codenamed Teega Two, and eight men at Teega One, the compound itself, with the hostages. The GRRR team had landed between the two locations, and while Charlie’s team moved into position outside the compound wall, Hazard’s team was taking up position to prevent gang members at the gatehouse linking up with their colleagues at the compound.

  Surveillance had also revealed that the thirteen hostages were being kept in the living room of the large single-storeyed main house. They were being made to sleep on the floor under the eyes of their captors, who were armed with automatic weapons stolen days earlier from the arsenal of the Antigua and Barbuda Regiment in St John’s, the nation’s capital. The hostage drama had begun three days before, and the assault team knew, from their observations over the last two nights, that most of the gangsters would be asleep by early morning, with just a few on guard.

  Charlie eased down beside Ben and Caesar. ‘Ben, get Caesar to check out the compound’s front gate,’ he instructed. ‘These guys stole explosives from the arsenal as well as arms and ammo. They could have booby-trapped the gate.’

  ‘Roger,’ Ben said, rising up. ‘Come on, Caesar. Let’s get to work.’

  With his tail wagging, the labrador happily padded along beside Ben towards the high double wooden gates on the landward side of the compound.

  Ben unhitched Caesar’s leash and gave him a pat. ‘Okay, mate, check out the gate,’ he said, pointing the way for him. ‘Seek on!’

  Focusing intently on his EDD and excluding the nerve pain from his mind, Ben watched Caesar trot away, nose down, and along the side of the wall, to the gate. Moments after reaching the gates, Caesar suddenly stopped. Looking up to where the two gates joined, he eased his backside to the ground. He sat there, staring at the woodwork.

  Ben flicked the ‘transmit’ button on the front of his bulletproof vest. In a hushed voice, he spoke into the small microphone near his collar. ‘Alpha One from Alpha Three. Receiving? Over.’

  ‘Alpha One,’ Charlie answered.

  ‘IED located at the gate,’ Ben reported. ‘Repeat, IED at the gate.’

  This action of slowly sitting down and gazing at one particular spot was Caesar’s ‘signature’, his way of telling his handler that he had picked up the scent of explosive chemicals. This meant that the gangsters had planted an improvised explosive device, or IED, at the gate. It was most probably set to explode whenever anyone attempted to open the gate.

  Ben gave a low whistle, and Caesar trotted back to him. ‘Good boy,’ he said, rewarding the chocolate labrador with a vigorous pat and a ruffle of the neck. ‘Good job, mate.’

  Delighted that Ben was pleased with him, Caesar licked his master on the cheek.

  ‘Copy that,’ Charlie radioed. ‘Alpha Four, do you read?’

  ‘Loud and clear, Alpha One,’ replied Sergeant Angus Bruce, a British Royal Marine Commando.

  ‘We’ll move to Plan B, on my “go”,’ Charlie advised. ‘Tell me when you’re set.’

  ‘Roger that. On your “go”.’ Keeping low, Angus ran to the compound wall. He removed a small aluminium telescopic ladder from atop his backpack and slid it to its full extension, then lay it against the wall. ‘Alpha Four set.’

  ‘Copy that,’ Charlie returned. ‘Alpha Five, move in and acknowledge when set.’

  ‘Roger this,’ said Sergeant Jean-Claude Lyon, a member of France’s Foreign Legion. ‘Alpha Five is moving in.’

  He hurried past Ben, with Casper Mortenson and Willy Wolf close behind. The three of them, bent double, slipped to the left of the gate. Jean-Claude deployed a second telescopic ladder against the wall on the other side of the gate.

  ‘Alpha Five is now set,’ he reported.

  Charlie was aware that Ronnie Dowd had CCTV cameras around the compound, covering the wall and grounds, but the local authorities had cut all electricity to the compound once the hostage crisis unfolded. Dowd had been planning to install a petrol-driven generator as a backup for the hurricane season, but hadn’t got around to it by the time the gang had burst in on his birthday party. This was handy for Charlie and his team, as the CCTV was now useless to the kidnappers.

  Seeing Charlie join Angus at the first ladder, Ben gave Caesar a quick pat. ‘Let’s go, mate,’ he said.

  ‘Alpha One to Alpha Five,’ Charlie radioed. ‘Ascend now.’

  ‘Roger, Alpha One.’

  While Angus held it in place, Charlie quickly climbed the first ladder. Peeking over the top of the wall, Charlie brought a pair of night-vision binoculars to his eyes. He scanned the compound, pausing when he came to the living-room windows. Charlie could see figures lying on the floor, bathed in candlelight. He hoped the hostages were sleeping. Several gang members with weapons were stretched out on sofas, apparently asleep. Charlie spotted a sentr
y sitting on the edge of a sofa, cradling an automatic rifle. He was awake but his head was lolling.

  ‘Alpha One to all Alphas,’ Charlie said quietly. ‘I’ve eyeballed one armed sentry in the living room. Alpha Five, can you see anything?’

  ‘Alpha One from Alpha Five,’ Jean-Claude replied, while also studying the house through binoculars from his ladder, ‘I see another sentry in the hall by the front door.’

  ‘Copy that. Alpha Five, take care of your man and we’ll deal with the living room.’

  ‘Roger.’

  Charlie climbed on top of the wall and lay along it. Ben picked up Caesar and, ignoring the pain in his leg, climbed several rungs of the ladder. Charlie grabbed Caesar’s collar and swiftly hauled the dog up beside him. For a moment, Caesar balanced on the wall’s thick top, before Charlie patted him on the rump.

  ‘Down you go, Caesar,’ Charlie whispered.

  Caesar trusted Charlie as much as he trusted Ben. Without a moment’s hesitation, the chocolate labrador launched himself forward and jumped onto the lawn on the far side. Once he’d landed, he looked back up to Charlie, who came slithering down the wall after him. Ben followed moments later, then Chris Banner and Angus Bruce. Behind them, Baz climbed the ladder part way and rested his Minimi on the top of the wall, sighting it at the house. His job was now to stay there and cover the others.

  Using the second ladder on the other side of the closed gates, Jean-Claude also came over the wall and slipped down onto the grass. Willy and Casper were not far behind. As the two groups crouched at the bottom of the wall, Charlie waved his team members forward. Ben, holding Caesar back, allowed the others to go ahead. Drawing his Browning Hi Power pistol, Ben then rose up and set off in their wake, bringing Caesar on a short leash.