Direct Action

15

“Come on!” Murdock shouted.

Razor tried three more times, and all the engine did was flood itself.

Murdock was gripped by the most overwhelming rage of his life. He was not going to fail, and he was not going to let the helicopter fly back to the ship with that damned armored car inside. It didn’t make much sense; there was plenty of room in the other Mercedes, but that was rage for you.

Razor had the armored flap window on his driver’s door open so he could hear. “Throw it in neutral,” Murdock shouted. “Push it out!” he screamed at the air crew.

Murdock and the crew chief got on each side of the front bumper, and the two gunners pushed from behind. The helicopter was slightly inclined, so it didn’t take too much strength to get the car going.

The car was soon moving under its own momentum, and just before it reached the bottom of the ramp it gave a bouncing lurch forward and the engine roared.

Razor Roselli stuck his head out the door and gave Murdock a thumbs-up.

Murdock’s only reaction was a warm but short-lived rush of relief. There was still too much to do. He gave the crew chief the “clear to take off” hand signal, then got in front of the armored car and guided Razor through the muddy field and out to the hard-packed dirt road. He could hear the other helicopters still on the ground. Two had landed in the fields on each side of the road.

One of the Mercedes, with Professor Higgins at the wheel and Magic Brown beside him, eased out of the brush on the opposite side of the road.

“Where are the others?” Murdock demanded.

“The birds landed back there but I haven’t seen anyone yet,” Magic reported.

“Join up with Razor and secure the road,” Murdock ordered. As he ran up the road, the four Chinooks lifted off, one after the other. Murdock charged through the brush bordering the road and discovered the second Mercedes mired in the muddy field, spinning its wheels uselessly. Jaybird Sterling was out cutting some branches to throw under the wheels. “Sit tight,” Murdock yelled.

The frustration was almost unbearable. He ran back through the brush to the road, just as DeWitt and Kosciuszko in their Shorlands emerged from the other side. Murdock gave them the “follow me” hand signal and guided them over to the Mercedes. He and Jaybird unwrapped the steel tow cable from the front bumper of the armored car and, diving into the mud, attached it to the axle of the Mercedes. The Shorlands skidded around, and they hooked the other end of the cable onto one of the armored car’s rear tow loops.

The rain came down even harder. The armored car, in four-wheel drive, slowly dragged the Mercedes across the field and out to the road. Murdock walked in front to make sure they didn’t hit any stumps or go into a ditch.

So Murdock was the first one out onto the road. His first sight was a pair of headlights coming on very fast.

Murdock held up a hand and brandished his weapon, but the Lebanese evidently felt the same way as American highway drivers about stopping at night for armed men.

The selector switch of the Kalashnikov AKM goes from safe directly to full auto. Which was convenient, as Murdock hit the lever with his left forefinger the same instant as he squeezed the trigger with his right. He emptied the entire thirty-round magazine into the car as it sped past him. The car skidded back and forth as the driver jerked the wheel under the impact of the rounds, but it kept going. Murdock watched helplessly as his mission was compromised before they’d even started.

Then Razor Roselli, at the wheel of the Shorlands, shot out of the darkness and broadsided the car in an explosion of glass and metal. It was no contest. The crumpled car spun off the road and slammed into a tree.

The automatic fire had left the barrel of Murdock’s AKM glowing red. He changed magazines and rushed up. Through the rain he could see two white muzzle flashes flare up as Magic Brown and Higgins raked the car at point-blank range. When they ceased fire, Murdock ran his red-lensed flashlight over the car’s interior. It was a mess; he couldn’t even tell how many people had originally been inside.

“Push it all the way off the road and throw some brush on it,” Murdock shouted. “And hurry up, I want to get out of here before someone else shows up.”

He ran back up the road and found the others sitting tight with their weapons ready, having heard the shooting but not knowing what had happened. “Let’s go, let’s go,” Murdock yelled. He was starting to get hoarse.

They got the vehicles onto the road, and then had to unhook the tow cable and re-stow it on the Shorlands. Jaybird and Doc gave the Mercedes a quick once-over, and wiped off as much mud as they could.

To Murdock it seemed the faster they went the slower everything got. Finally the Lebanese car was concealed off the road and they were ready to get started.

Murdock checked out his Shorlands. The impact with the car had barely scratched the paint on the welded steel body. He jumped into the passenger seat, soaking wet, covered with mud, and shivering. His wool beret had sagged down over his ears, and the once-shiny emblem was dirtied by mud. There was hardly any room to move; the entire compartment of the vehicle from the two front seats back was packed solid with blocks of TNAZ explosive linked by detonating cord. “What a goatfuck,” Murdock mumbled.

“The time isn’t good,” said Razor Roselli.

Murdock looked at his watch for the first time since they’d landed. Jesus, they’d used up almost fifty minutes of the precious darkness just getting unscrewed.

Cool down, now, Blake, he told himself. When you’re pissed you don’t think right, and you only make the boys nervous. Murdock took a deep breath. “Let’s get going,” he said evenly. He reached over and turned the vehicle’s heater up to full blast.

With their armored car in the lead, then the two Mercedes, and finally DeWitt and Kos bringing up the rear in the second armored car, the SEALs started down the road into the cold Lebanese night.