Deadly Force

23

Mahanani, Lam, and Howard picked a spot well away from the village to test the 20mm rounds brought back from the carrier.

“Look exactly the same,” Lam said. “The grooves, the markings, only thing different is the fuse, and we can’t even see that.”

“Weigh about the same,” Mahanani said, hefting one in each hand.

Howard laughed. “Sure, Old Weights and Measures himself here. Let’s give it a try.”

They set up the Bull Pup with a heavy wooden box filled with dirt on each side. The trigger was just behind the boxes, and the round in the chamber. If it blew inside the weapon, the boxes of dirt should take up the impact.

“Who gets to pull the trigger?” Lam asked.

“Hey, it’s Howard’s Bull Pup,” Mahanani said. “He gets the honor.”

Howard reached down, lay flat on the ground behind the weapon, and curled his finger around the trigger.

“Get back thirty yards,” he told the other two. “No sense in all of us getting killed.” They grinned and moved back.

When they were to the rear and behind tree trunks, Lam called out. “Ready on the firing line.” It was the age-old military order that all was safe to begin target practice.

Howard shut his eyes, ducked down, and pulled the trigger. They heard the familiar loud crack of the round going off. Then fifty yards downrange a huge tree took the round in the center of its trunk with a smashing explosion as the HE round detonated.

Howard sat up and smiled.

“Hey, you chickens, these rounds work fine. Pass the word.” Howard pulled back the lever and checked. A new round from the magazine had moved up into the firing chamber after the first shell casing had been ejected. Yes.

The Skyhawk with the thirteen SEALs and one Loyalist soldier had kept a minimum altitude of fifty feet over the water as it raced downstream, pulling in sharply at the five-mile dock, and found the LZ a quarter of a mile from the river beside a tributary. The small open field had been harvested. The SEALs and the Loyalist soldier, Sandari, jumped out of the helicopter and ran at once for the cover of the jungle growth. The chopper lifted off at once and powered north over the heavy greenery on its way by a new course back to Tinglat.

The SEALs lay in the jungle growth for two minutes listening for any reaction around them. Gradually the insects began to sound again with their mating calls and operational buzzing and clicking. A bird sang, then another. Murdock licked his lips and stood.

“Move,” he said into the Motorola. The squad walked out of the growth to the riverbank and trotted down it to the road along the river. They were in the outskirts of Sierra City now, and moved quickly from shadow to shadow as they worked down the main road to a less-traveled street. Sandari led them. He told them he had grown up a short distance from the five-mile dock. They threaded through dark alleys, past shuttered houses and buildings, and along narrow streets that looked like cattle trails at times.

Murdock checked his watch. They had taken off precisely at 1200 and flown for twenty minutes. Now it was almost 0100 and they were not at their target.

“How much farther?” he asked Sandari.

“The Government Building is this side of the main business district,” Sandari said. “Maybe ten more minutes.”

They came up to the rear entrance of the large Government Building. It was only two stories high, but spread out over most of the square block. The near half of the block held an empty parking lot.

“Guards?” Murdock asked.

Sandari pointed to the far right corner of the building, then to the central rear door and again to the far left.

“Jaybird, guard to the far right. You and I will do him. Then move to the central rear door. The guard on the left can’t see the back door. Let’s move.”

The two ran down the block and came out less than forty yards from the lookout post. They leaned against a wooden building and watched the guard. He walked a short post and came back. Then he put his rifle on the ground and dug into his pockets. A moment later they saw a flare of light.

“Smoker,” Murdock said. “Good, his night vision will be seriously impaired for five minutes.” Murdock and Jaybird crept around the building, and then walked naturally across the open space toward the guard. They would act as if they belonged there. They had their weapons slung and were talking when the guard looked their way. He looked again, then waved. The two SEALs waved back, then slanted toward the man.

“Hey, got a smoke?” Jaybird asked from ten feet away. The guard snorted.

“Damn moochers. Buy some of your own smokes sometime.” He had just reached in his pocket, when Jaybird’s KA-BAR knife lanced through his shirt and drove deep into the soldier’s heart killing him instantly. Jaybird caught him and dragged him into the building’s shadow. The rest of Alpha Squad rushed across the open space. Ken Ching picked up the dead guard’s AK-47, slung it over his shoulder, and manned the guard post.

Murdock led the rest of the squad close to the building and out of sight of the guards on the rear entrance at the center. Bravo Squad followed, and soon the SEALs were within twenty feet of the two men on guard. Murdock and Jaybird slung their MP-5’s, drew their KA-BAR knives, and held them in their right hands with the blades hidden behind their arms.

They walked out into the open and toward the two federal soldiers. One guard called out in a conversational tone, “Hey there, you lost?”

“Shortcut,” Jaybird said.

“Anybody got a smoke?” Murdock asked. “I’m dying for a smoke.” By that time they were within ten feet of the two guards. The guards frowned, and one started to pull up his slung rifle. Jaybird swung up his silenced MP-5 and put two of three rounds into the man’s chest. The other guard froze for a second, and it was long enough for Murdock to jolt forward and ram his fighting knife into the man’s lung. He went down. Murdock pulled out the KA-BAR and slashed it across the guard’s throat. They dragged both guards into the shadows next to the building. Then Donegan and Rafii walked up and took the place of the guards, using their AK-47 rifles as props.

Murdock ran to the rear door. Locked. He fired six rounds from the silenced MP-5 at the lock. Metal and lead flew, then the door unlocked and drifted open. The ten SEALs rushed inside leaving the three outside who had replaced the guards.

Sandari led the group. He walked quickly down the central hall to the left and pointed to the basement door. Locked. Jaybird used his silenced MP-5 and fired one three-round burst at the lock. He pulled on the handle and the door opened. Sandari went through first, turned on two light switches, and then went down the steps. Murdock was right behind him.

“Second door to the right,” Sandari said. “That used to be documents.” The door was unlocked. Sandari turned on the room lights to find the space empty. He shrugged, and they went to the next door. This one was locked. Murdock fired twice with the MP-5 and broke the lock. Murdock heard a muffled cry from inside the room. Sandari opened the door and turned on the lights.

“Thank God,” Don Stroh said. He was tied to a bunk in the otherwise empty room. He wore the same clothes, had a shadowy beard, and his hair was rumpled.

“Where’s the Vice President?” Murdock asked.

“Next room. We tap on the wall now and then. No code, just to know we’re alive.”

Jaybird cut the thin nylon ropes that held Stroh to the cot. He stood and his knees gave way, then held, and he walked around a little. “Damn, good to be moving.”

Murdock had left with Sandari. They ran to the last door. It also was locked. This time it took six rounds to break the lock. Murdock opened the door and rushed inside. The lights were on. The Vice President sat at a low desk with a pen and paper. He threw down the pen and jumped up. For a moment he looked confused. Then he must have recognized Murdock. His face broke and he began sobbing. He rushed to Murdock, threw his arms around him, and wouldn’t let go.

“It’s all right, Mr. Vice President. We’re here. We’re going to take you home. Don’t worry. The worst is over. We’re going to get you out of here.”

It took several minutes before the Vice President would let go of Murdock. Tears still washed down his cheeks. “They put a loaded gun to my head three times. They tried to get me to sign all sorts of confessions. I kicked one of them in the balls and he beat me with a club. God, I want to get home.”

Jaybird ran back up the steps and checked in the main hall. He saw no sign of any federal troops. He hurried down the hall toward the rear entrance, then jolted into a doorway as a detail of ten armed federal soldiers marched into the hall from a room and turned away from him. When they were gone, Jaybird rushed back to the basement stairway.

Murdock and the platoon waited for him. He motioned, and they ran down the hall toward the rear door. Three federal soldiers came out of a room and stared at them, then lifted their rifles. Jaybird and Bradford cut them down with a dozen rounds. The SEALs ran faster, the Vice President and Don Stroh keeping up with them. The two men were in the middle of the group. They made it to the rear door. Jaybird opened it a crack and looked out. He shut it quickly.

“Skipper. There’s a vehicle out there and two men have guns trained on our guys.”

“Can you nail them with silent rounds?” Murdock asked. Jaybird nodded. Van Dyke and Fernandez moved up to the door and when Jaybird opened it a foot, they both fired. The bullets hit the two federal officers in the chests and knocked them down. The SEALs, along with the Vice President and Stroh, poured out the door, picked up Donegan and Rafii, and stormed for the far side of the building. They took fire from the vehicle that was parked near the entrance.

Bill Bradford stopped, turned, and fired one round from his Bull Pup. The 20mm hit the half-ton truck and exploded, silencing the guns there.

The SEALs picked up Ching at his guard post and sprinted for the nearby building. A machine gun cut through the silence. The lead splattered just to the side of the SEALs as they crowded behind a wooden building.

“Where is he?” Gardner yelled. Nobody knew. Then Gardner saw the flashes and aimed a 20mm round at them. He hit the laser button, and the round exploded over the heads of the machine-gun crew. Two of them went down dead. The third man crawled back to the.30-caliber weapon and continued to fire.

Fernandez zeroed in on the flashes with his sniper rifle and fired six carefully aimed shots. The machine gun ceased to function.

“Let’s move,” Murdock said. Sandari led them down the block at a trot, angled away from the Government Building, and they were halfway down a narrow street with shuttered businesses on both sides when a seven-man squad of federal soldiers blocked their way and at once began firing.

The SEALs took cover wherever they could find it. Three old cars were the best to be had. The SEALs returned fire. Two twenties exploded in airbursts over the soldiers. One lifted up to run toward the corner, but Fernandez nailed him with two rounds from his sniper rifle.

The firing from ahead fell off. Another airburst twenty silenced it. Two federals lifted up and raced to the shelter of a building at the corner. They made it.

“Canzoneri, Mahanani, go check for survivors,” Gardner said. The two ran forward on a zigzag course, then stopped and kicked the corpses. One man lifted his rifle, but a round from Mahanani’s MP-5 ended the threat.

“All clear,” Canzoneri said on the Motorola. The platoon ran forward, stepped over the bodies, and hurried up another block. Murdock had assigned Lam and Bradford to take care of the Vice President. One of them was always near him. When the firing started in the street, Bradford had pushed the Vice President behind the car and held him there. On the march they stayed beside him. He struggled now to keep up, and Lam was on the Motorola.

“Skipper, we’re having trouble staying with you. Cut the damn pace.”

“That’s a roger, Lam. We’re slowing down. How’s he doing?”

“We’ll make it if we go slower. Remember, he’s a civilian and probably fifty-five years old.”

They walked from there on. Murdock didn’t worry about Don Stroh. He could take care of himself and keep up. They were almost out of the splash of houses near the four- or five-mile line when Sandari dropped to the ground. The rest of the SEALs went down as well. Sandari didn’t have a Motorola. Murdock crawled up beside him.

“A truck and soldiers in the road ahead,” Sandari said.

Murdock looked it over. A roadblock. They might have roadblocks up every night. This one had one truck and five or six men. The SEALs could take it out or go around it. If the SEALs splattered the soldiers, it would pinpoint their location. He didn’t like that.

“Lam, how’s the Veep doing?” Murdock asked.

“He’s tired, but he says he can make it. He should be behind a desk somewhere, not out here.”

“Seen Stroh?”

“He’s around. He picked up an AK-47 at that last set-to. He thinks he’s a SEAL now.”

“Good. He’ll have some practice. All hands. We have a roadblock ahead. We’re going into the field to the left. We need to move that direction to find our chopper. Absolutely no noise. We’ll keep ten yards apart. Follow our path.”

Murdock motioned, and Sandari walked off the dirt road into a field, and went out a quarter of a mile before he turned north again. They hiked for another thirty minutes through fields and along some roads, and then turned back to the right.

“Twenty minutes and we should be at the chopper,” Sandari said. Murdock had kept close tabs on the Vice President. He would hold up well as long as they just kept walking, Lam told him. Stroh had come by, and had been disappointed they hadn’t had another firefight now that he had a weapon.

The Motorolas picked up a transmission.

“Calling Murdock. This is Halstrom. Come in, Murdock. I’ve got some trouble.”

“Halstrom. Murdock here. Just barely hear you. Where are you?”

“Almost five miles north of the drop-off point. I waited there after the second run with Mojombo. He said wait there. An hour later a bunch of gunmen started shooting. I had to lift off. Took some rounds and some damage. I flew out a ways and set down so I could inspect the ship for any real problems. I found some. They cut up my bird pretty bad. Three rounds into the engine. I have a cut oil line, a messed-up fuel line, and control-surface damage. Just no way I can put this bird in the air. Afraid I can’t ferry you guys back to the village.”