Deadly Force

21

“Roger that, Mr. Billings. We’re working on plans now to find where the men are being held. It may take us a day or two to find them. Then we’ll figure out how to extract them. Remember that down here the federal troop strength is a little over four thousand men.”

“I hear you, Murdock. The bottom line is the President wants Adams out of their clutches and onto that carrier where he’ll be safe.”

“Roger that, Mr. Billings. We’ll keep you informed.”

Murdock put down the handset and turned to his men. “Now it’s official. We get them out of there as fast as we can. First we get the two men off on their motorcycles. Gardner, you coordinate a hit at the next police station tonight. We’ll leave at 0100. Cover all the bases. Now where are those motorcycle guys?”

Jaybird brought his two men back. “You both can ride the motorcycles we have?” They nodded. “Did Jaybird tell you what we want you to do? You’ll be spies in the enemy camp. You’ll have to find federal troop hats; otherwise your uniforms are the same as theirs. Look for special guards, lots of guards. Check out the Government Building if you can. We suspect they might be holding the two men in there. Any questions?”

“Do we take our weapons?”

“Do federal troops around the city carry weapons?”

“No, sir, usually not,” Tehabo said.

“Then keep only concealed weapons. Be as inconspicuous as possible. Don’t drink anything, don’t get in a fight, and don’t challenge anyone. Move with confidence but not like you’re a spy. Okay?”

“Okay,” Tehabo said. “We will work together since many of the federal troops work in pairs around the city.”

Murdock dug into a case in his tent and brought back two stacks of dagnar bills. “You may need some money. Act as any other pair of soldiers would. But no drinking. Now, get on your bikes and get out of here. Oh, it might be good to ride round the outskirts of town and come in from the south.”

The men saluted smartly, turned, and hurried to the motorcycles.

Gardner came back and sat on the grass outside Murdock’s tent. “We have our target. The guide is here and ready to go. We have alerted Lieutenant Halstrom, the pilot. They will have the bird ready to fly at 0100. We’re working on resupply of ammunition now. Most of our men are down a little. We’ll get up to full normal load after I talk with the sergeant in charge of the armory tent. Right after chow I’m putting the men down for a five-hour sleep period. We need to be awake and ready for anything tonight. I expect there will be outside lookouts at all of the police stations.”

Murdock nodded. “Good work, Gardner. Give us a year and we’ll rub that JG off your rank.”

“That would be good, Commander. My father has been chiding me about that.”

“He’s the admiral?”

“Yes, sir, two stars. He expects me to get three.”

“Bummer.”

As they talked, Mojombo came into camp with his ten men. They heard about the raid on the village as they arrived, and Mojombo came directly to Murdock.

“It’s true?”

“Afraid so. The SEALs were on a march up the valley, and your men were on a training run up the trail north. The federals hit us at exactly the wrong time. I’m afraid they killed your outpost men. We found two of them.”

Mojombo slumped to the ground. “It was going so well. We are to send a platoon of soldiers and an officer down to Salal tomorrow to protect them. They are completely on our side. Now this.”

“Mojombo, may I make a suggestion?”

The distraught leader nodded.

“Your outposts and lookouts must be hidden so no one on the trail can see them but they can see everything. Each of your lookouts must have a radio. If they see anything, they should report it at once. I can send Lam with your men to help them find positions and conceal themselves if you wish. You should get new lookouts in place before darkness.”

“Yes, good suggestions. We’ll accept Lam’s help. We have the radios. I was overconfident. I won’t be again. But you have a problem now as well. How will you get your two men back?”

Murdock outlined the plans. The Loyalist leader nodded. “Yes, if your men can find out the location where they are held, you will have your hardest part done.”

He stood and let out a long sigh. “It seemed so easy at first. Now it is becoming harder and harder. I need to get the lookouts in place.”

Lam stood. “I’ll be ready whenever you call me.”

Mojombo waved at him and walked toward where many of his men had congregated around the tents.

Murdock went into his tent and dropped on his cot. What else could he be doing? How else could he try to get the Vice President returned to them? Now he knew that he should have put the Vice President on the Skyhawk as soon as it landed and accompanied him out to the carrier. The damn barn door. He laced his fingers together behind his head and tried another angle. What would Kolda be doing with the two men? Some propaganda story to the world press? Neither man would have a passport. They had diplomatic status, but that did them no good if they couldn’t prove it. What in hell would Kolda do?

He gave up and closed his eyes. Let go of it. Just forget about the damn problem. Maybe his subconscious would come up with something. A small nap. Yeah.

It seemed like only seconds later when somebody pushed his shoulder.

“Hey, Cap. You almost missed chow. Not the best, but my guess it’s some kind of dog-meat stew. Not bad. Some good bread made out of something. No flour around here. Got me. You can still make the end of the chow line.”

Murdock sat up and wiped his eyes. “Yeah, thanks.” He figured out it was Senior Chief Sadler talking. “Thanks, Senior Chief, I owe you one.”

On the way to the mess tent, Murdock remembered the problem. His subconscious had let him down. Not a hint of an idea about Stroh and the Veep.

That night at 0100 they took off in the Skyhawk on their way to Sierra City. Gardner and his guide, Gamba, had selected the site for their attack. It was a larger police station than the other two and would for sure have security out. Gardner had redlined Omar Rafii.

“Rafii’s limp was worse, and when we checked the wound it had broken open. Mahanani said it could get infected. He pulled it together and dosed it with medication and wrapped it up tight. He’s supposed to stay on his bunk until tomorrow noon at least.

“The rest of the men are ready. We don’t have Lam for our point, so I suggest we use Fernandez.”

“Your ball game, Gardner. I’m just along for the fun of it.”

Then the noise of the chopper made talking too hard and they settled in for the ride. They circled around the city ten miles out from the last lights, and came in from the south. They were about ten miles from the first lights of the city when they let down. Gamba jumped from the bird and looked around.

“Want to know where we are, so I can get back to this spot,” he said. A small stream worked its way across the gently sloping farmland. At last he nodded.

“Okay, we go now,” Gamba said.

“This time the pilot has one of our Motorolas,” Gardner said. “With him at two thousand feet, the little radios should be good for eight miles. I told the pilot to stay here unless he started taking enemy fire. Then to memorize this spot and get back here every hour on the hour after the first three hours.”

They jogged across the fields, found a road going their direction, and kept up the pace, moving at a little better than seven miles an hour. That was about a nine-minute mile, and they could keep it up for four hours if they had to. Murdock remembered once or twice on past missions when they had been forced to go that long.

Gamba worked the point with Fernandez.

“We’re coming into some of the city now,” Fernandez said. “Looks like almost every house and building is dark. No streetlights out here. Just downtown is my guess. We’re home free along here.”

They slowed their jog to a fast walk and kept three yards apart in a column of ducks.

After twenty minutes of hiking, the streets became more commercial, and soon there were business sections, then residential, and sometimes mixed. Gamba called a halt ten minutes later. They were in an alley, and the darkness was complete as two-story buildings loomed over them.

Gamba talked to Murdock and Gardner on the radio. “Now I need to do some looking around. We’re two blocks from the police station. They could have guards out this far. If I find one, there will be more. Smoking will give them away. Everyone here wants to smoke. I don’t understand that. I’ll take Fernandez with me for support.”

“Be back in fifteen minutes,” Gardner said.

The SEALs slumped on the alley dirt. The front man automatically went out as security, and Murdock, who was at the tail end of Alpha Squad, went back twenty yards as rear security.

After twenty minutes, Gardner called on the Motorola. “Fernandez. Where the hell are you?”

The whispered voice came back. “Just watched Gamba eliminate a guard with his knife. He can play on my team anytime. He said there are no more guards between us and the station. We can move down to the end of this block and have open fields of fire at the front and side. I’m coming back to lead you here.”

In five minutes he keyed his radio again. “Move it, SEALs, to the end of the block you’re on. I’m at the first cross street.”

Ten minutes later JG Gardner had the men in the positions he wanted them to be. Half would fire at the police station. This one was made of concrete block, so they would have to hit windows with the twenties and maybe blow off a door. He put three SEALs behind them for security, and put two more on each side in a square perimeter.

“All units in position?” he asked on the Motorola. The four groups checked in. Murdock had worked forward to the eight men who would put fire into the police station. He had his Bull Pup and figured he could help.

“Four rounds each with the twenties,” Gardner said. “The three twenties on the left of center hit the doors and windows on the front of the building. The other three fire at the side windows. Your weapons are free.”

Murdock had knelt down, and now aimed at the large door on the front of the building and fired. The sound of the six Bull Pups going off created a crescendo of sound that kept increasing until the twenties stopped.

Reaction inside and outside the police station was quick. Ten men lifted up from the left side of the station and charged across the open street toward the street mouth where the SEALs had fired from. The two SEALs on that side cut down three of them with the MP-5’s. A twenty-round burst just in front of them blasted four more dead, dumping them on the concrete street. The other five dove behind cars and an old truck, and began firing at muzzle flashes.

“Cover,” Gardner barked into the Motorola. The SEALs in the street mouth rushed to the near side of the building, which came to the sidewalk.

Then three Army men pushed sandbags off their weapon and fired a machine gun from an emplacement near the left side of the police station. Murdock targeted it with a twenty, and the impact fuse detonated on the side of the weapon and destroyed it and the three men manning it.

MP-5 fire kept down the heads of the men who had hidden behind the cars on the street. Two twenty rounds hit one of the cars, exploding it and igniting the gasoline in both rigs in a second spectacular blast. Now men ran out the front door of the police building, one of them slapping at his burning shirt. Two 5.56 rounds cut him down.

“Let’s use two rounds each on the twenties with WP,” Gardner said. The rounds soon slammed into the building, some falling harmless as they missed the blown-out windows. Half of them penetrated the building, and soon smoke billowed out of the front of the structure and windows on the near side.

Gardner surveyed the scene. No more opposition. He was ready to give the order to pull back when they heard a racing motor and saw a tanklike vehicle roll around the near side of the station and move directly at them. A heavy machine gun chattered on its front roof mount as the rig rolled toward them. They could hear the tread as it worked over rollers.

“Light tank or armored personnel carrier,” Murdock said on the net. “Everyone take cover, cease fire. Our rounds won’t hurt him, not even the twenties. Get your C-4 out and make it into quarter-pound bombs. Insert a timer detonator, but don’t set it yet. We’ll see what he does. We should spread out along here. Ten yards between men. Find any cover you can. He’s stopped firing. He can see no targets.”

“Any casualties from that last action?” Gardner asked.

“Caught some shrapnel or a ricochet in my left arm,” Senior Chief Sadler said on the net. “It’s okay, I wrapped it up. Ready for duty.”

“Here he comes,” Gardner said. “He’s got no headlights, maybe a nightscope. He must have viewing slots up there in front. Anybody know where they should be?”

Jaybird sputtered a moment. “Oh, yeah, viewing ports on both sides of most of these rigs. I can get on top of him and work down to the slots, push half of a quarter of C-4 into it, and set the timer/detonator. Half is inside, half outside.”

“No way,” Murdock said. “Too dangerous.”

“We move up and try for the tracks?” Mahanani said.

“Best bet.”

They watched the rig crawling toward them. They could see it better now in the soft moonlight. It was a half-track with tires in front where the body of the rig slanted sharply up to the top, six feet off the ground.

“Hold fire,” Gardner said. “Two men on each side of him when he gets closer. It’ll take a sprint across the street.”

“Who the hell?” Murdock asked as a shadow eased away from a building closest to the police station, then charged across the open street and slammed against the side of the station. The half-track had just passed that point. Then the figure raced up to the back of the slow-moving machine, jumped on board, and crawled over the bare metal toward the front.

“Jaybird, if that’s you I’m gonna kill you,” Murdock said on the net. There was no response. “Figured,” Murdock said.

The machine moved slowly forward. The figure crawled under the roof-mounted machine gun and angled down to the slanting front. He eased forward and down. Then his arm came out and it worked over what must be the viewing port, Murdock decided. He could imagine Jaybird jamming the inch-thick puttylike C-4 into the half-inch-wide viewing port, then punching in the timer detonator and pushing the timer.

A few seconds later the figure retraced his climb to the top and then jumped off to the street, did a shoulder roll, and came up running for the safety of the buildings across the street.

The small tanklike vehicle slowed, then stopped. They heard metal on metal as one of the side doors opened. Before anyone could leave, the C-4 went off half inside the armored personnel carrier. The sides of the rig bulged for a second. The unlatched door blasted off its hinges and flew into the street. Smoke billowed from the open doorway, the viewing ports, and the off-side door, which had also blown open and sagged on one hinge.

“Move to the center street, form up, we’re out of here,” Gardner barked into the Motorola. The fourteen SEALs and one Loyalist guide raced to the middle street and quickly jogged away from the now-burning half-track. A moment later an explosion ripped through the rig as flames found the fuel tank.

Ten blocks away from the police station, Gardner eased the men to a walk. “Any more casualties?”

Nobody spoke up, then a strange voice said, “Hey, I shit my pants when that fucking Jaybird…”

“Jaybird, I’m at the end of the line. Get your little ass back here, now.” Everyone knew it was Murdock’s voice.

Jaybird waited at the side of the street for the rest of the detail to pass him. He fell into step beside Murdock.

“Sorry, Cap. It just seemed like a good idea at the time. Hey, no harm, no foul.”

“Against a direct order is something of a foul.” Murdock shook his head. He grabbed the smaller man and gave him a hug and lifted him off the ground. “Jaybird, you little bastard. Don’t you never die, you motherfucker. Not never. Don’t even think about it.” It was the traditional best tribute one SEAL could give to another. He put Jaybird down and they jogged to catch up with the rest of the platoon.

“Wonder what the driver thought when he saw that putty coming in through his view port?” Jaybird asked.

“I’d let you go back and interview him, but it’s my guess he’s in no condition to answer any questions.”

They both laughed and caught up with the rest of the platoon.

Two miles past the last house, Gardner called a halt. Mahanani found Sadler and checked him out using his small flashlight.

“Not good, Senior Chief. Tore up your forearm. Had to be a ricochet. It’s a furrow three inches long. Still bleeding like a bastard. I can stop it with enough pressure. You want a morphine?”

Sadler, sitting on the ground, nodded and leaned back until he was lying down. “Damn, not supposed to hurt this much.”

Mahanani took the MP-5 from him and handed it to the closest man, Jefferson. Then he spent five minutes sterilizing and then medicating the wound. He wrapped it tightly and then put another bandage over that. He pushed one more ampoule of morphine into Sadler’s right arm and helped him stand up.

“Hey, Chief, what day is this?”

“Who the hell knows? The only easy day was yesterday. Let’s get out of this stinking town.”

“We’re ready to march, JG,” Mahanani said.

An hour later they found the Skyhawk where they had left it, and thirty-five minutes later after a roundabout route, they settled down on the edge of the soccer field at Tinglat. It was a half hour to dawn when the SEALs hit their cots. Most went to sleep instantly.

That morning Murdock came alive at 0730, had chow, and reported to Mojombo’s tent. “One more cop station down and dirty,” Murdock said. “We picked up one slightly wounded. What’s with our spies in the capital city?”

“We set up a relay radioman down near ten-mile dock. These radios we took from the police are good for well over ten miles, so we can get reports. We changed the frequency on them so the cops can’t hear us. Tehabo reported in late last night. So far they have found no large number of guards around any of the police or military buildings. They did pick up one important statement that Kolda made to the newspapers. He said if the violence, the attacks by the Loyalist Army, do not stop, the American, Don Stroh, will be publicly executed tomorrow morning by a firing squad.”