Ambush

18

Murdock sprinted once he was out of the vines and trees, and skidded to a stop beside the door handle on the rear entrance to the hostage barracks. He waited for three more SEALs to come beside him; then he turned the knob slowly.

Not locked.

He edged the door outward an inch so he could look inside. It was surprisingly light. He saw rows of double-decked bunks; then he saw people. He nudged the door another inch. He couldn’t spot any guards inside. He opened the door a foot and slipped through. Nearest him was a man wearing shorts and a T-shirt. He looked about sixty. He looked up and scowled. Murdock gave him a thumbs-up sign, and he looked confused.

Four more SEALs edged past the door and inside; then a man from near the front of the barracks ran back. He was thin, white-haired, and wore glasses.

“Who are you, and thank God you’re here,” he said. “I’m Philpot, English.”

“We’re Americans. Where are the rebel guards?”

“Out front mostly. Come in here just to bring us food, what there is of it.”

Now all nine of the SEALs and friends were inside. Two ran to the front door. One guarded the rear.

Murdock estimated the number of people on bunks and standing around.

“This can’t be all of you. Where are the rest?”

“They loaded up two trucks early this morning and took them away,” Philpot said. “Told us they wanted to split us up. We still have thirty-one here, and there are eighteen at another camp. Don’t know where it is.”

The sound of gunfire came from outside, and Murdock recognized the blast of the 20mm rounds. Then the small arms. Ching and Lampedusa edged the front door open and looked outside.

“Skipper, okay to fire out of here? We’ve got some targets.”

“Go,” Murdock said.

Lam fired from the ground level, and Ching used his Colt carbine over the top. They found six rebel guards slipping out a back door of their sleeping area and moving into firing positions to contest those weapons still in the jungle.

Lam and Ching reduced their number to two, who fled in back of the building and to the other side. A man came out of the rock house and charged toward an ancient jeep that was parked behind it. Lam punctured his back with four 5.56 slugs and jolted him into the Philippine dirt. He rolled over once, tried to get up, then fell and didn’t move again.

“How many guards?” Murdock asked the Englishman.

“Fifteen, maybe twenty. Some went with the other hostages.”

“Have they hurt any of you?”

“Not so far, but they’re getting impatient.”

“Who’s in the big house?”

“The guard officers. Just three of them.”

“Murdock, we aren’t taking any return fire. Time we charge up and clear the guards’ place?” It was DeWitt.

“Move when you’re ready. Only about ten to fifteen guards, did you copy that?”

“Yes, copied.”

Murdock looked back at the Englishman. “How do we get to the main house?”

“Front door, then to a side door about thirty feet over to the right.”

“Ching, back door cover, Bradford, stay at the front door for protection. The rest of you on me. We’re out the front door and thirty feet to the right. We go in a rush. Ready?”

Murdock looked out the front door, saw no green-clad rebels, burst out, and sprinted for the house to the right. He heard some firing out an upstairs window; then he was at the door and pulled it open. No shots came through. Lam was beside him.

“I’m right,” Murdock said as he pushed the panel fully open and charged inside, diving to the right. Behind him came Lam, who dove to the left. They took no fire.

Murdock saw they were in a utility room, with closets and a small table. One door led off and it was closed. Both SEALs came to their feet as the other members of Alpha charged into the room.

Murdock and Lam did the diving entry again through the second door, and took some rounds from across the room. Lam lifted up over a small chair and cut down the shooter with a bust of three rounds.

There was no more firing from the room. The living room was furnished part Western and part Filipino. The SEALs ran down a short hall, clearing two rooms, then looked at the stairway. It was open on one side of the living room with a landing on top and an open door.

Lam held up a fragger. Murdock nodded. Lam threw the grenade, and 4.2 seconds later it exploded on the top stairs landing. Lam, Domingo, and Van Dyke charged up the stairs. Murdock was behind them. Two rooms. Two SEALs charged into each room. Murdock and Domingo took the one on the left. Domingo went first and dove right. Before Murdock made it out of his dive, Domingo had rattled off two three-round bursts. Two guerrillas had brought up rifles, but didn’t have time to fire them before they died.

“Clear left,” Murdock said.

“Clear right,” Domingo said. They looked out the windows. The high ground gave them a different view. Beyond the jeep and the guards’ quarters, they saw a narrow roadway heading downhill. Near it was a sedan, maybe a Honda or Toyota. Near the sedan lay three rebels in a bunker designed to protect them from down the hill. Murdock punched out the small window, aimed the Bull Pup out it, and put a 20mm round in the center of the bunker. When the smoke and dust settled, the three rebels sprawled lifeless.

“DeWitt, how are you doing over there?”

“We’ve cleared one building and have a wounded prisoner. He should be able to talk. We think the next building is empty. We’re going in there now.”

“Second building clear,” Mahanani said on the net.

“Check the rest of the grounds. We took out the guards at the far back aiming downhill. One jeep and one sedan should be operational. Juan, get to that prisoner. We need to know where they’ve taken the rest of the hostages.”

“Roger,” Juan said, and ran out of the house and across to the rebel guards’ quarters.

“Check out all these second-story windows and see what else we can find,” Murdock told the rest of his squad.

He motioned to Domingo. “Glad you’re aboard. Those two rebels with guns up might have nailed me before I could get to them. Thanks.”

Domingo grinned. “I haven’t had this much fun for six years. Damn, I forgot the surge of emotion that comes in combat. We still need to get to Lebak, right?”

“Absolutely.”

“That sedan might be our best bet. I could take it, a driver, and another gunner and get to that town in an hour or so, depending on this dirt road along the coast over there.”

“Go check it out, Domingo. Take Franklin for your driver. You hear that, Franklin? Go check out the sedan at the front of the place.”

“Will do, Skipper.”

Murdock and the rest of Alpha looked out the windows, but could spot no more rebels. Murdock went down to the hostages.

He got their attention, then talked to the Englishman. “How many of these people speak or understand English?”

“Half. We have interpreters for the others.”

“Listen up, people. We’re with the United States Navy and we’re here to get you back into circulation. We hope to have helicopters here before dark and take you back to Davao. There you will able to get air transport.”

Half the people cheered; the others were told of the news and they wept and then cheered.

“We’re not sure how long it will be. We’re driving a car to the nearest town, where one of our men will contact the Philippine Air Force and they will be sending helicopters here. Once loaded up, it’s only a forty-five-minute flight to Davao.”

He waited until all the translations were made. Then he looked at them again.

“Any questions?”

“Did some of the rebels outside die?” one woman asked.

“Yes,” Murdock said, and looked around. There were no more questions.

“Have you been fed enough lately?” Murdock asked.

There were a chorus of boos and nos.

“I’ll have some men look over the kitchen and see what we can serve you.” He turned and used the Motorola. “Mahanani, Howard, and Jaybird. You guys are on KP. See what kind of a meal you can get up for these people out of the supplies. Must be some here. Do it now.”

“Sedan looks workable,” Franklin said on the net. “Low on gas, but we siphoned all that was in the jeep and found a five-gallon can in the shed. Should be plenty.”

“Good. General, your ears on?”

“Yes, sir, Commander.”

“Let me know when you’re ready to move out. Sooner the better. You have your shooter and driver?”

“Roger that, Commander. If Canzoneri wants to take a ride.”

“I’m running for the sedan, Skipper,” Canzoneri said.

“Take one of the Bull Pups and a sniper rifle. Get the right tools, men.”

Juan called on the radio. “Murdock, you better come over to the rebel quarters. Our rebel doesn’t want to talk.”

Murdock told the hostages they were free to roam around the grounds, but to stay close. “There could still be some rebel snipers around.” Most of the hostages elected to stay inside.

The Englishman Murdock had first talked to came up. “Sir,” said Philpot, “I was with the 82nd Grenadiers for forty years. Done a bit of bash-and-shoot myself. Like to come with you if you don’t mind.”

“It’s an interrogation, Mr. Philpot. Might be better if you stayed here.”

“That’s Colonel Philpot, Commander. You must be at least a commander for the Navy to give you this role. I can pay my way with action if it comes to that.”

Murdock nodded, and led the way out the front of the barracks to the rebel quarters. It was now one large room. Some walls had been taken out. A dozen bunks were at one side, and on the other a table and chairs. A rebel guard, bare to the waist and tied by arms and legs, sat in one of the sturdy chairs.

“Commander, we’re loaded and ready to travel,” Domingo said on the net. “One tire’s a little low on air, but that should be no problem. We’ll hope to get to town in an hour or an hour and a half. I’ll make the calls and set up the flights and should be back here by the time the choppers arrive. How many hostages?”

“Thirty-one. One chopper could do it. Two would be better. We won’t be going back. They took the rest of the hostages somewhere. We’re trying to find out where. You should go back to Davao with the hostages.”

“We’ll see about that, Commander, when the time comes. We’re moving. Take care.”

Murdock looked back at the rebel prisoner. He was young, eighteen, maybe a year more. Juan slapped him with his open palm using a full swing. The man’s head jolted to one side and came back slowly.

Juan spoke in Filipino, and the man in the chair scowled but said nothing. Juan saw Murdock come in, and walked over.

“Sir, this isn’t going to be pretty. I’m sure it isn’t in your SEAL book on how to treat prisoners. Might be better if you were outside.”

“Carry on, Juan. SEALs seldom take prisoners; we never leave them alive. Do what you have to. We need to know where those other hostages are.”

Juan went back to the prisoner and asked him another question. When the man refused to talk, Juan took a knife and made a slice down the man’s cheek. Blood flowed down the cut and dripped on his legs. With the cut, the man bellowed in pain. Juan ignored him and asked the same question again. This time the sharp point of the knife hovered a quarter of an inch from the young man’s right eye.

“I say, now, that could produce some results,” Philpot said.

The rebel Filipino tried to draw back from the point. Juan moved it with him, momentarily grazing the eye but not damaging it.

The man jabbered off four sentences.

Juan countered with another question.

The rebel closed his eyes.

Juan moved the knife and sliced down his other cheek. Another bellow of pain.

When the rebel opened his eyes again, he saw the blade even closer to his right eye, the point small and deadly.

He talked again, and this time he relaxed. Tears seeped from his eyes and his voice went strangely hoarse.

Juan let the knife down and turned.

“He says they left early this morning before daylight. They herded about twenty people into the big truck and drove away. The best he knows is that they would go back nearer to Lebak. He heard something about an Eagle’s Nest. He said the lieutenant in charge here told the men he would be going to the Eagle’s Nest.”

“Where is that?”

“He said he didn’t know. Somewhere high. Somewhere on the ridges over the sea.”

“Is he lying?”

“I don’t think so, but he’s still holding back. I need to persuade him more.”

“I’ve heard that cutting off fingers is counterproductive,” Murdock said.

“I’ve heard that too.” Juan grinned. “But I’m not sure I believe it.”

“Find out how far down or up the coast the Eagle’s Nest is. That would be helpful. I’m going to check the kitchen. KP crew, how are you doing?”

The Motorola talked back. “Not a hell of a lot here to work with,” Jaybird said. “No beans, no flour, no potatoes. How can I make a dinner without potatoes?”

Mahanani came on. “Hey, Skipper. We’ve got a whole truckload of fruit here. We can make a good fruit salad. Then there are some other staples. Lots of bread and cans of tuna. Yeah, tuna fish sandwiches. Lots of coffee. We’ll find something else. Take about half an hour. Where do these people eat?”

“Don’t know. I’ll find out. Mr. Philpot. Where have you folks been eating your meals?”

“Tables in the hostage room,” he said. “Nothing fancy. The women set them up the first day we were here.”

Murdock relayed the message to the kitchen.

“Ed, see if you can find any more gasoline. We might be able to use that jeep down there. Check it out.”

“Can do, Skipper.”

Murdock grabbed Fernandez and they toured the whole complex again, looking for any hidden rebels, and anything that might help them find the missing hostages. They found DeWitt with two five-gallon cans of gasoline. He poured one can into the jeep fuel tank and the rig started. Somebody had tuned the engine.

“Can haul five men and a driver on here,” DeWitt said.

“Take it on a test run,” Murdock said. “Go down the road here to the beach and see if you can figure from the big truck tire marks in the dirt which way the rig turned. Help us know which way they went.”

DeWitt drove, and Jefferson went along as shotgun as they gunned the vintage rig down the narrow road toward the beach five miles away.

Murdock checked the kitchen in the big house. Mahanani had just mixed up the tuna fish, and Murdock tested the first sandwich. “Needs minced onion, pickle relish, and chopped almonds,” Murdock said.

“Sure, Skipper, and throw in the champagne and baked Alaska for dessert.”

Murdock finished the angle-cut sandwich and nodded. “Yeah, that’s good. You can make my sandwiches anytime, Mahanani.”

Outside, Murdock tried to raise the general on the Motorola. Either he was too far already, or the hills cut down on the signal. Now all they could do was wait. Transport. They were dead in the water without any air transport.