Brown, Dale - Independent 02 by Hammerheads (v1.1) Page B

was in the area.
                 But
the freighter had stayed out of U.S. territorial waters, out of direct Coast
Guard jurisdiction. Boarding a foreign freighter was illegal in international
waters without clearance from the skipper or the country of registry, so
Ehrlich had been obliged to request permission to board the Numestra from the Panamanian government.
After two days the request was still “being processed.” Translation: they were
being stonewalled. Not a refusal but a definite stall. And it was a certainty
that the skipper wasn’t going to give permission to Ehrlich to board his ship a
second time, so Ehrlich had decided to stay just outside the freighter’s radar
range to watch and wait, with the Falcon jet scanning the area for small boats
trying to rendezvous with the freighter.
                 After
three days of shadowing the Numestra, however, no small boats had been detected returning to the freighter. Resolute began to lose the use of their
Falcon for longer and longer periods of time when it was called away for other,
presumably more urgent jobs. The investigation was going nowhere, and Ehrlich
had begun to feel pressure to get on with his patrol when he noted the Numestra was beginning to creep toward
shore again. A few ships also started to move toward the freighter, gradually
at first, then noticeably closer each day. He would hang in. Something was
going down . . .
                 But
if the Numestra moved out into
international waters there was little Ehrlich could do if the freighter’s
skipper decided not to stop for inspection. And Ehrlich wasn’t about to open
fire on the freighter—the Coast Guard couldn’t fire on anyone unless they were
under attack themselves, and even then firing on a ship on the open seas was
politically and diplomatically explosive stuff.
                 But
Ehrlich had a gut feeling this skipper was dirty, and now he was looking for
international waters as fast as his old tub could carry him.
                 Of
course the Reliance-class cutters weren’t exactly speed demons, either. This
intercept was taking forever . . .
                 “Range,
McConahay.”
                 “Eleven
miles and closing, sir. I’m picking up a second vessel, sir, moving away from
the freighter at high speed . . . possibly a third target appearing now, sir.”
                 “Have
the Falcon pick up one of the targets and track him,” Ehrlich said. “Better
call in Customs and some more of our boats to round up these turkeys. We’re
staying on the freighter. I think we’ve got a live one here ...”
                 “Should
we get the helo on deck and ready, sir?” Ross asked.
                 Night
helo operations with a cutter going full speed were tricky, but it was a calm
night and Ehrlich had some good pilots on board. “Yes, Mr. Ross, see to it.
Then get communications on the horn and see if he can get that freighter to
heave-to. Broadcast in English and Spanish.” A precaution for a future court
appearance. The freighter’s skipper could always claim he did not understand
the Coast Guard’s orders. More than one smuggler had received suspended
sentences because of that dodge.
                 “Communications
reports no reply from the freighter on common area or emergency frequencies,”
Ross reported. Unless the Numestra had
lost all its radios—in which case it would be required to heave to and use
light signals to call for help—it was definitely ignoring its radios and trying
to flee American waters.
                 “Range,
ten miles and closing,” McConahay chimed in. “Freighter is approaching the
twelve-mile limit.”
                 “Have
comm start running through the green book,” Ehrlich ordered. The green book was
no longer a book—it was a computerized list of private shipping frequencies
that each company was required to