Frontal Assault

6

By the time Murdock and his men reached the poop deck, the crew had shown Ed DeWitt the two hatchways leading into the engine compartment and the forward hold where general cargo was sometimes stowed.

Access to both was by vertical steel ladders, and DeWitt waited for Murdock before he began any movement down. One of the engine maintenance men volunteered to go with them and show them the engine room. He said there were some good hiding spots down there, and he knew them all.

Murdock told him the terr down there would be dangerous and would shoot to kill. The sailor from Michigan, who said he was Curley, shrugged.

“Hey, I’m twenty-six already. I’ve been married, had a kid, divorced, been around the world ten times, tried every kind of drug you can buy or steal. Shit, I never thought I’d last this long. You guys wanta live forever?”

“Damn right,” Horse Ronson said, and the crew and the SEALs all laughed.

“Can he sabotage the engine down there?” Murdock asked.

“Sure, easy, if he knows anything about big diesels.”

“Ed, you take your men and work the cargo hold. Be careful. We’ll do the engine compartment with Curley here as our local native guide.”

Murdock used the Motorola. “Holt, get back down here to the poop deck. Tell Lam to hold the pressure on those wounds himself. He’s tough. Mahanani will be up there soon.” He waved the big Hawaiian up the deck, then looked at what was left of his squad.

He’d sent three men to the forecastle; Lam was down for now, Holt was coming back. He had Ronson, Sterling, and Holt. That would be enough.

“Go ahead, Ed. Get a guide from the crew to help lead you down to the cargo hold. The Motorolas might not work too well under all this steel.”

Murdock looked at Curley. “How far down that ladder to the guts of the place?”

“Three levels. He could be on any of them. He’d have to be down at the last one to do any damage.”

“You shoot a weapon?”

“Did a hitch in the Marines.”

Murdock tossed him the AK-74 they had taken from the dead man. “That’s the new AK-74, upgraded from the old AK-47. This one shoots 5 .45mm zingers. Fully auto or single shot. Be careful with it.”

Holt came jogging up and grinned. “I got blood on my hands, so be damned careful of me.”

Murdock waved them toward the hatch that led into the engine compartment three levels below.

A tall Texan they called Tex said he’d show them the cargo hold, “Jest so no sucker gonna shoot my balls off.” He led DeWitt and his men down the ladder. Nothing happened. They went down the iron ladders into a hold with a jumble of boxes and crates. A man could hide a dozen places in that jumble.

DeWitt and his men swept the hold from one side to the other, protecting themselves at all times. They found no one. They went back the other way, checking under boxes and testing crates. Again they found nothing.

Murdock tried the Motorola. “Commander, we have a clear on the cargo hold.” He waited a minute, but there was no response. The heavy steel plates had blocked out the signal.

“Let’s get back up the ladder,” DeWitt said.

Murdock went first down the ladder with his four men into the engine compartment. He was followed by the volunteer, Curley. At once, the sound of the big diesel engines pounded in their ears. He turned and looked at Curley, who pointed to a metal catwalk going off the ladder. The two of them stepped on it, and Curley did a look around. He shook his head and pointed down. This time, he took the lead.

They went down next to a huge drive shaft of some sort and on down into the bottom deck of the compartment. The noise made talking impossible. Curley pointed and indicated all three of Murdock’s men should stay there. Then he and Murdock went down a walkway beneath some more equipment and to the far side of the compartment.

A shot slammed into the other noises and sounded only like a buzz as the round whizzed past Murdock’s head. He dropped to the grating and looked ahead. He saw nothing.

Curley had gone down, too, and he rolled to the left behind a large tank. Murdock did the same before a second shot could come.

Curley nodded at Murdock and pointed ahead. Then he shook his head. He motioned to the side and they squirmed around the tank and could see down the same direction they had been going. Murdock saw legs working past another large tank. He aimed and fired a three-round burst, but he figured the legs won the race. The legs got behind cover before the slugs got there.

Curley came to his feet and ran ahead to the tank that had shielded the terrorist. Murdock pushed around him and went flat on the deck and leaned around to take a look. A single shot whistled over his head. He jerked back.

Curley cupped his hands to Murdock’s ear and spoke loudly. Murdock could understand.

“No exit,” Curley said. They moved slower then, darting from side to side where there was steel cover. The terrorist fired twice more and missed. All on single shot. He was conserving his ammo. Down to his last magazine, Murdock figured.

Murdock put his floppy hat on the butt of his subgun and pushed it just around the corner of their safety shield. A three-round burst almost tore the weapon out of Murdock’s hands and sent the hat flying back the way they had come. Murdock screamed.

He looked at Curley and grinned.

Seconds later, they heard feet pounding on the steel deck and a man showed out of the dimly lit engine compartment. He charged up the walkway, his AK-74 aimed in front of him. Murdock waited until the last minute behind his concealment, then swung the stock of the H & K submachine gun at the charging runner’s ankles.

The sub gun connected and nearly tore out of Murdock’s hands. The runner went down, swearing, and his rifle clattered ahead of him five feet.

The AK-74 behind Murdock chattered off three rounds, and Murdock saw them tear up cloth along the terrorist’s back. The Arab gave a groan, then tried to lift up, fell flat on his belly, and didn’t move.

Murdock surged up and checked the man. Dead.

He waved at Curley, and they went back to where his other men waited in the blocking position. Murdock pointed upward, and the five climbed up the ladder and left the roaring of the big diesel engines behind them.

Once up the ladder and back on the deck, Murdock took the AK-74 from Curley.

Ed DeWitt looked at Murdock, who nodded. “One terr taken care of. You find anything in the cargo hold?”

“Just a lot of cargo. No terrs.”

The Motorolas spoke. “Commander. We’ve been through the forecastle twice. We have a clear here. Orders?”

“Move back to the deckhouse. We’ll meet you there. We found the missing terr.”

Murdock turned to Curley “Thanks for your help. Now, you should get back with the rest of the crew and see what your captain wants you to do.”

By the time Murdock and DeWitt climbed back to the pilothouse, the captain was in command again, and he had two officers working with him.

Murdock introduced himself and asked if the ship had a TAC frequency that could contact U.S. naval units.

“Most certainly, young man,” the captain said. “I understand we have you to thank for capturing the terrorists and returning control of the Jasmine to us. The owners are grateful, as the crew and I are. We did lose two dead in this takeover.” He paused. “I haven’t had to send letters like that for a long, long time.” He brushed his hand across his eyes.

“Well, come with me to the communications room and we’ll see if we can contact that carrier back in the Persian Gulf we passed a day or so ago.”

They did.

A chopper would pick them up at 1000. It was then a little after 0246.

Murdock checked on his two wounded. The tanker had better medical supplies than Doc Mahanani carried. He used them and re-treated Adams left forearm bullet wound and the chip through Lam’s shoulder.

The captain suggested the SEALs might like some food. The tanker had enough food to feed a regiment for a month. They found the kitchen and mess hall, and the cooks worked up any breakfast to order they wanted. Breakfast steaks, fried potatoes and onions with cheese, and sides of pancakes and bacon was the most popular order.

The SEALs found bunks and sacked out for the rest of the night and by 0900 they were up and grousing around the big ship until Murdock led them on a two-mile jog around the long tanker.

Two hours later, they had landed back on the Enterprise in the Persian Gulf and Murdock wrote up his after-action report.

Stroh was not impressed. He told them to stand down for a day and rest up. Sick bay redid treatment on the two wounded and sent them back to duty.

Two hours later, Stroh came in, waving three sheets of paper Murdock knew came off the encryption machine. He groaned.

“Fisherman of the small yellowtail, I have some news here that you are not going to be too thrilled about,” the CIA man said. “You want it straight or with a sugar coating?”