Death Blow

10

Juan Lopez looked at the Tijuana Police Department detective and gave a small inward twitch but nothing that anyone could see. He had heard about Mad Dog Sanchez many times. This was the first time he had met him. It was said that Mad Dog had more confessions than any detective in all of Tijuana. The little border town had grown to more than a million people. Juan Lopez wanted to go right on living there and not in a cemetery.

“Yes, yes, I told you. I go to the El Gallo Colorado sometimes. They have good food and lots of girls. That’s no crime.”

Juan didn’t see the blow coming. It was from behind into his right kidney and he doubled over from the pain. He wanted to vomit but he knew they would make him clean it up. He sagged, then slowly stood.

“Juan, you can make this easy. We know that you have met Chuci Hernandez many times. He also liked The Red Rooster. Now he is dead, you are alive. Curious, no?”

“Why would I want to have anything to do with hurting Señor Hernandez?”

“You? Not you. You only follow orders. We know you work closely with El Padre. The big man has not seen fit to help a poor policeman like me with my living expenses. We know that you set up Cuchi with some gringo hit man. We want to know who and where we can find him.”

Juan felt his face freezing, his skin going pale. This was Mad Dog talking. He too, was acting on orders. How did Mad Dog know that he had contacted the gringo? It didn’t matter how.

“So, you dead chicken, you ready to crow?”

Juan looked up. “I don’t know what you’re—”

This time he saw it coming and tried to duck. Mad Dog had been in the ring for five years. He followed the duck, hit Juan with a straight left jab and then a thundering right-hand fist that caught Juan under the chin and lifted him an inch off the floor. He had been ready for it but that didn’t help. The room lights went fuzzy, then flickered and went out.

Juan fell to the floor of the Tijuana police interrogation room. A bucket of water sloshed over him and he cried out and then sat up.

“Stand up, you sniveling weasel,” Mad Dog shouted. “I know you have a gringo name and a phone number. I want it, and I want it today. I don’t have a lot of patience. We might do your fingers next.”

Mad Dog took a pair of pliers out of his pocket and worked the handles back and forth. They were well oiled and when Juan looked at them he felt a little bit of himself die. He didn’t want to die in this stinking cubicle. Where was El Padre? Who would help him?

A man in a business suit came to the door and talked with Mad Dog for a moment. The detective snorted and scowled. Then he started to turn away. Instead of leaving he did a spinning kick and hit Juan in the belly with his boot. Juan went down again and this time he did vomit. He couldn’t help it. He was on his hands and knees when gentle hands lifted him. It was the suit.

“Come, Juan. I just talked to the chief. No reason to hold you. Mad Dog is not pleased, but these cops seldom are unless they are paid enough. Let’s get out of here before the chief changes his mind.”

On the sidewalk outside the police station, the two men walked away slowly. Juan set the pace. He wheezed and had trouble talking.

The suit with the carefully knotted necktie handed Juan an envelope.

“Juan, a nice vacation for you in Acapulco. El Padre says you have earned it. Two weeks and by then Mad Dog will be angry at someone else. Oh, there’s a bonus in there for you besides your tickets and hotel reservation. Sorry I didn’t get to see you yesterday.”

The tall man in the immaculate suit moved away, stepped into a Jaguar sedan and drove down the street.

Juan looked in the envelope, then began to run away from the police headquarters. He found a taxi and went straight to the airport. He had money and could buy whatever he needed. Juan Lopez was glad to be on his way out of Tijuana and out of the reach of Mad Dog.

General Winston P. Alexander had known the president for twenty years. Now, as chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff, he was a prime adviser to the President on international military matters. They sat in the easy chairs in the Oval Office and sipped at soft drinks.

“True, we have no defense pacts with Nepal or Bangladesh or Mongolia for that matter,” the general said. “We do have an agreement with India; however, that could be interpreted as being binding on our assistance if she is attacked.”

“If attacked,” the president repeated. “So far she hasn’t been. I don’t think China is that stupid to take on another member of the nuclear bomb community.”

“So for right now, the chiefs of staff suggest that we simply sit on the sidelines and see what else happens.”

“We know that China is going into Bangladesh. Our intelligence operation is better there. Any developments on getting our embassy people out of there?”

The general nodded, glad to have some good news for a change. “Yes, the rescue mission is under way. The SEAL team was way over in the South China Sea, so it has some travel time. As I understand it, as soon as it gets dark over there, they will be moving.”

“I’d guess that India knows that China is going to move into Bangladesh,” the president said. “To do that, the Chinese must violate either India’s ground space or airspace. As I have been told, there is a narrow band of Indian territory between Bangladesh and China.”

“True. Depends how India reacts. We suggest that she will protest, then maybe put up some air power along that strip to slow down any air resupply to Chinese troops on the ground.”

“Will India ask us for any air help?”

The general shook his head. “I’d guess not. She has good air power, some good fighters. If China sends up their latest MiGs to defend the transports, it could be a good fight.”

“So, damn it, Win, we just sit on our hands and wait.”

“Not quite. We have a carrier group moving closer to the problem area. We have four ships in the Bay of Bengal, destroyers and cruisers, but our air power is eight hundred miles away.”

“I’ve seen the map,” the president said. “Not much we can do about that, at least for now. So we pick our noses, and see if we get our people out of that war zone.”

SEAL Team Seven, Third Platoon arrived in Calcutta tired, grouchy, and hungry. They had been up half the night getting their gear ready, finding the ordinance they wanted from the Navy stores, and getting on the COD Greyhound for the four-hour flight. It turned out to be five.

They arrived at noon at a military airport near Calcutta and were promptly fed and put down on cots for a six-hour snooze. Lieutenant Lonnie Brasco had paved the way for them, smoothed the glitches, and given Murdock a tour of the three CH-46s that had been flown in the night before from an amphibious landing ship that was off shore. Murdock took the one with door-mounted guns and a second one that had what looked like a level-headed older pilot.

“We’ll crank up at nineteen hundred,” Murdock told the pilots. “It’s an hour’s flight in there. We don’t know if it will be a hot LZ or not. From what I hear, the Chinese haven’t invaded yet. They must have got their timetable mixed up. But by tonight they could be all over the place.”

Murdock tried to get some sleep but couldn’t. He heard an announcement at 1430 that the Chinese had invaded Bangladesh, and thereby violated Indian air space. The announcement said that proper responses would be made.

In their makeshift barracks, the SEALs popped up from their cots at different times. The older hands slept longer than the newer men did. They had chow again at 1700 and then worked over their gear.

“Hear this is gonna be a walk in the park,” Howie Anderson said.

“Yeah, a park with a Chicom and his submachine gun behind every bush,” Mahanani snapped back.

“Chicom?” Ostercamp asked.

“Yeah, Mr. DeWitt used the term,” Mahanani said. “It’s from the Korean War, fifty years ago. Stands for Chinese Communists. Chicom. Fits.”

Murdock and DeWitt inspected their men ten minutes before load time; then they marched out to the choppers and boarded, half on each one.

“It’s the royal survival principal,” Jaybird said. “When the king and queen go on a trip, they travel separately, so the whole monarchy won’t go down in one fell swoop.”

“That makes you the court jester, Jaybird,” Jefferson said, and they all laughed.

All fifteen men had their ears on. Vinnie Van Dyke was still on the Stennis, getting the chunks of a lead slug out of his chest and lung. Murdock checked with DeWitt on the other chopper once they were in the air. Despite the loud noise of the rotor and motors, they could communicate. It was fully dark when they took off.

“DeWitt. We’ll have a hot LZ. We’ll go in as planned. You take the front door, and my squad and I will hit the back door. The birds will lift off and circle out of trouble until we call them in with a star shell and radio. They have our frequency.”

“That’s a roger, Murdock. We’re set here. Nothing for the door gunner to do yet. We’ve been over Bangladesh for twenty minutes and I don’t see any sign of fighting or Chinese below.”

“Same here. Coming up on a larger town. Hope the pilots go around it. Could be some action there.”

Just as he said it Murdock felt some rifle or machine gun rounds hit the chopper. The pilot zigged to the left then lower and to the right and went a mile to the side of the gush of lights below to what had looked like swamps, lakes, and some farming.

“Anybody get hit?” Murdock asked in the mike. Nobody answered, “Net check,” Murdock said and listened as his six men checked in. “Good. DeWitt, any casualties?”

“One arm wound, not serious. Mahanani is on it. We’re okay unless we have to do some rope climbing.”

They saw a sea of light ahead of them, Dhaka.

“Nine million people down there,” Fernandez said. “Bigger than Los Angeles. And looks about as spread out. Hope the pilots know how to find the place.”

“They do,” Murdock said. “We double-checked.”

Rifle fire came again, but nothing hit the chopper. The pair of birds swung down a main street that looked like it ran for miles. On the other end was a large park that would be dark now, and on the other side of the park was the U.S. embassy. It was a former prince’s palace.

A speaker in the top of the chopper came on. “Target located, we hit the LZ in about two minutes. The light is now red. When it goes green, the crew chief will open both doors and the rear ramp. Suggest you use all three. We’re at the LZ parking lot just behind the embassy. Good luck.”

The crew chief watched the lights. Murdock had the first door open on one side, and the rear ramp was halfway down when the wheels touched the ground.

“Go, go, go,” Murdock bellowed and the SEALs streamed out all three doors.

Murdock charged toward the back of the embassy. He saw a man with a flashlight waving them forward. Jaybird got to him first. “Friendly,” Jaybird shouted and ran for the back door of the embassy, which stood open. Ten seconds later all six of Alpha Squad were inside the embassy.

Lights were on. The man who had been outside came in and looked at the SEALs.

“God, am I glad to see you guys. We have a dozen Chinese out front trying to talk their way inside. They came through the security fence with explosive charges.”

Murdock waved the man forward. Small-arms fire exploded from the front of the embassy.

DeWitt had seen the Chinese. They were standing around with their weapons down or on the ground. Two men, probably officers, were at the front door where they kept banging on it.

The SEALs went prone and when DeWitt whispered a “now” on the Motorola, all eight of them opened fire on the Chinese. Eight went down in the first barrage. The two at the door turned around, then dove for the ground. When they did they were quickly dispatched. Nobody had wanted to fire into the door and probably through it inside.

“Khai, make sure on the ten,” DeWitt said into his mike. Khai jolted up from his prone position with an H&K G11 with caseless rounds and surged forward, kicking bodies as he came to them. One groaned and took a round to the head. One ten feet away sat up and tried to bring his rifle to bear. DeWitt scrubbed him out of the picture with a four-round burst from his Alliant Bull Pup, driving the 5.56mm slugs into the man before he could fire.

Khai fired one more shot, then waved the SEALs forward. DeWitt knocked on the door and bellowed that they were U.S. SEALs. The door opened a crack outward, then swung wide, the SEALs ran inside, and the door closed.

DeWitt found Murdock who talked to the ambassador and his number one man.

“Only trouble we’ve had so far,” Ambassador Theodore Borone said. He was a compact man of five feet eight, with gray hair, glasses, and a twist to his nose over a thin lipped mouth. “I think the wind blew most of the paratroopers off their target. We’ve been expecting them for two days now.

“Trouble, people,” Jaybird said. He had remained behind at the front window. “Looks like twenty fly boys with boom sticks. They want to come in and play.”

The SEALs scattered, four to the front windows. Four rushed upstairs to find front-facing windows and four more went to the rear to check on any troops there.

Murdock pulled the ambassador down behind a wall. “Where are the rest of your people?”

“No basement. Fifteen are in my office. It has no windows and seemed to be the safest place.”

“Good, get there and don’t open the locked doors unless you know it’s a SEAL. Move.”

The ambassador was not used to taking orders. He frowned, then nodded. “Yes, yes, right away.” He started to stand up but Murdock pulled him down to the floor.

“Crawl, Ambassador. If you stand up they can see you outside and you could be dead in a second.”

Murdock reached up and turned off the lights in the room. the rest of the rooms went dark and a moment later rifle rounds drilled through the embassy windows and slammed into woodwork, furniture and glassware.

“All SEALs,” Murdock said into his mike. “Take them out. Open fire. Make a safe LZ so we can get the hell out of here.”

Ed DeWitt used the Bull Pup and put two explosive 20mm rounds just beyond the front gate into a tree. He saw the explosive power of the round and fired two more. One Chinese soldier didn’t like that rain of hot lead. He leaped up and charged from the outside fence toward a foot-thick tree inside. He never made it. Four slugs cut him down and dropped the rifle as he sprawled in the dirt.

Murdock had a report of no troops in back.

“DeWitt, keep up the fire. I’m taking half Alpha Squad through the back and around the side and get the bad guys in a cross-fire. Moving, now.”

Murdock took four SEALs and slid around the end of the embassy building and could see the Chinese riflemen shooting at the front of the embassy.

He placed his men and then they all opened fire. Murdock used the Bull Pup and lasered two rounds on a tree near the front for air bursts. Both rounds exploded in the air and rained hot shrapnel down on the Chinese. Two tried to stand and retreat. Both fell to rounds from Murdock’s men.

Two minutes later the firing from the front stopped. “Make sure,” Murdock told Kenneth Ching. He charged forward, fired one shot, then gave an all clear front.

Murdock put his four men in a perimeter defense around the front of the building and fifty yards away. He told DeWitt to put a screen to the rear. Then Murdock and two other SEALs took a tour of the grounds looking for any hiding Chinese. They found one, who jumped up and tried to run. He had lost his rifle. He didn’t make it.

“Grounds look secure,” Murdock said on the radio.

“Agree, rear is secure,” DeWitt said.

“Fire one red star shell,” Murdock said.

“Got it,” Lam said and sent the red flare skyward. A moment later it burst and drifted away to the right.

A garbled message came over Murdock’s Motorola. He listened to it on the second transmission.

“The birds are coming back to us. Get the embassy people to the front by the door. Divide them into two groups. Go, we don’t have much time.”

Before DeWitt had the civilians all at the door, Murdock heard the choppers coming. He went outside. “Mother Hen, chicks are ready when you are. Come on down.”

“That’s a roger. We have you in sight.”

He saw them, then, dodging over trees as they hugged the ground. The first chopper landed, and right behind it the second one. Before the dust had cleared, DeWitt had ten civilians running for the open chopper doors. They were onboard when he motioned for the next group.

Murdock had moved the SEALs back into a tight security circle around the choppers.

DeWitt waved for the second group, and Jaybird released them from the front door. They were thirty yards from the second chopper when the whole bird burst into flames as a rocket hit it and exploded the fuel tanks. The civilians scattered backward, and DeWitt corralled them and sent them to the first chopper.

“Onboard, get on, all of you. Now. Crew Chief, as soon as all the civilians are on board, get the hell out of here. We’ll find our own way back. Take off. Now.”

The door clanged shut and the chopper leaped off the ground just as four more rocket rounds slammed into the complex. Two of the small rockets hit the front of the embassy and one beside it. The fourth hit where the chopper had been before it lifted skyward.

Murdock had seen and heard what happened. He approved. It was the only way. “Out the back of the place and into those trees,” Murdock shouted into his mike. “We’ll take stock, check for wounds and then try and figure out what the fuck we’re going to do.”