Payback

11

Lieutenant Joe Socha and his six men dropped out both sides of the CH-46 at the same time Murdock’s men roped down to the luxury liner. They fell ten feet into the water in their wet suits and drag bags. All wore Draegr breathing gear, and at once went underwater fifteen feet and swam toward the Korean frigate a hundred yards away. They wanted enough separation from the man-of-war so the lookouts wouldn’t know they were aiming at their ship.

Socha angled the men to the stern of the 334-foot frigate, and missed it by only a dozen feet. He checked carefully and made sure the big ship’s twin screws were still. The craft was sea-anchored.

He motioned the two men who would attach small limpet mines to the two propellers. Four other men floated the larger, heavier limpets to the sides of the stern, where the magnets clamped them to the ship’s hull two feet under the waterline. When all was ready, the men surfaced so close to the frigate that no lookout could see them.

Socha signaled for the men to set the timers for two minutes; then they would swim north ten feet underwater for a minute before they surfaced to avoid the killing concussion that would rip through the water. Socha went with the men to the screws, and saw them set the timers and then dart away, swim fins thrashing the water as they hurried away as fast as they could swim. A minute later, they surfaced and met the other four men. They swam away from the ship as the timer ticked down.

For a moment Socha feared that the timers might not have worked; then he felt a pounding surge of water catch him and drive him forward. Almost at the same time two blasts sounded as the water-level limpets exploded, sending water spraying out a hundred feet and flashing a bright light into the darkness on each side of the big ship. Another underwater blast came, and the SEALs began a surface swim away from the man-of-war south toward the brightly lit luxury liner. Socha figured the Royal Princess was about a hundred yards from the stricken frigate. The SEALs turned and watched the activity on board the Korean Naval vessel. A siren shrilled, and whistles blew, but even as they did, the stern of the big ship began to drop lower in the water. Watertight compartments inside the blasted area would prevent it from sinking, but it would not be moving anywhere unless it was towed.

The seven SEALs from First Platoon of SEAL Team Seven grinned around their face masks and stroked toward the luxury liner. If the side hatch wasn’t open, they would simply turn and swim the three miles to the beach. Socha shrugged as he swam. Three miles in the Pacific Ocean wouldn’t even be a warm-up for his in-condition SEALs.

On board the Royal Princess, Lieutenant Ed DeWitt heard the blasts from the north where the Korean ship was anchored. Socha had done his job. Now DeWitt had to finish his. He peered around the corner of the passageway where the engineering section was located. A Korean guard still stood at the door. De Witt pushed his MP-5 around the corner, aimed carefully on single-shot, and drove a 5.56 slug through the Korean’s skull. The dead sailor slammed to the left away from the door.

“C-5,” DeWitt said. Franklin and Fernandez were close behind him. Both dug into pockets on their combat vests and pulled out quarter-pound sticks of the highly powerful plastic explosive.

“About an inch square on the door lock,” DeWitt said. “Set the timer for ten seconds and get back here.”

Franklin ran ahead with a chunk of C-5, pushing the detonator/timer into the puttylike explosive as he ran. He stopped at the door, ducked down, and moved forward to press the explosive against the door lock near the handle. He set the timer for fifteen seconds, pushed it to the “on” position, and scurried back around the corner. A moment later the blast shattered the silence and pounded into the ears of the SEALs. All had covered their ears with their hands, and they could still hear when the sound jolted down the corridor each way. They charged the door and found it blown inward. Two Koreans lay on the floor holding their heads. One tried to lift a pistol. Fernandez shot him twice with silenced rounds, and the other man saw them and lifted his hands. Franklin quickly bound his wrists and feet with plastic riot cuffs.

“Where’s the operators?” DeWitt asked. They found them in a small adjoining room tied hand and foot. Fernandez cut them loose, and they talked rapidly in Dutch. None of the SEALs could understand them. DeWitt pointed to the equipment, the computers and screens.

“Okay?” he asked.

The most universal word in the world worked.

“Okay,” one said after he checked over the equipment. Fernandez dragged the dead man and the tied-up sailor into the small room where the others had been, and left them. DeWitt used the Motorola.

“DeWitt here. We have engineering. The two operators here say all of the equipment is A-okay.”

“Roger that, DeWitt. Leave one man there and see if you can find out what’s going on in the engine room.”

DeWitt had no idea where it was. He made motions and signs to one of the crew, until the man understood where they wanted to go.

“Okay,” he said, and motioned for them to follow him.

At the communications center, First Platoon SEALs Parson and Underhill checked out the situation. There were two armed men inside and the door was locked. Parson told Underhill to wait, and he ran back down the corridor until he found a crewman. The Filipino said he was a steward and knew nothing about the communications room.

“Hey, man, I want you to knock on the door and ask these guys if they want any food to eat. Make motions, get them to understand. You speak English. One of them might. Give it a try. You won’t get hurt, we promise. Look, we’re trying to take back your ship and get rid of these murdering bastards.”

The steward had been surprised to see the armed men who were not Korean. Now he thought it over. He shrugged. “Might as well. Got to get them out of there. Let me get a tray with some stuff on it under a napkin. Fool the fuckers.”

He came back a moment later with a tray and walked up to the door. He knocked, then knocked again. The SEALs couldn’t see the Koreans through the glass in the door, but they could see the steward. He motioned to the tray and then made motions as if he was eating. He nodded and started away, then came back. He made more motions to the men inside and then to the tray.

The steward said something the SEALs couldn’t understand, then started away again. The door opened a crack, then more. Parson had been crawling along the side of the corridor out of sight of the Koreans. As soon as the door cracked open, the steward pushed it farther open so he could hand in the tray, Parson came to his feet, jolted forward the last six feet, and sent a dozen rounds into the belly of the Korean reaching for the tray. He went down to the left and gave Parson a clear shot at the second Korean, who had brought up a submachine gun. Parson’s three-round burst hit the hijacker in the throat and drove him backward into a set of monitor screens before he slid to the floor dead on impact.

The steward had turned and raced away as soon as he heard the gunfire. Underhill stormed into the room, saw it was under control, and reached for his Motorola.

“Lieutenant, Underhill in communications. We have captured this section, but haven’t found any civilian operators. Will hold it until we get further orders.”

“Well done, Underhill,” Murdock said. “Lock the door and hold the fort.” Murdock stared around the captain’s cabin. “Where could they have taken your captain?”

“The cap was a coffee nut,” the officer said. “Maybe they went to the kitchen for some late-night latte.”

“Wasn’t Captain Kim upset about the fireworks off his bow?”

“He said he couldn’t figure it out. We had a good view of the whole thing. Looks like it’s about over now.”

“So where is Captain Kim and the rest of his hijackers?”

Two Koreans came around the corner of the companionway and stared in surprise at Murdock. Before they could swing up their submachine guns, Murdock and Jaybird drilled them with six rounds each. They flopped onto the deck. One tried to fire, but Jaybird shot him with three more rounds and he died on the floor.

Verbort stared down at the Koreans.

He shook his head. “You guys don’t fool around, do you? Damn, I have seen four men killed in the past fifteen minutes.”

“Our job,” Murdock said. “Now where could the captain be?”

Verbort nodded. “Oh, yeah, he could be down at the doctor’s office. He was concerned about the wounded. The medical area now looks like a battlefield hospital. Down this way.”

Murdock, Lam, and Ching followed the ship’s officer to an elevator, and down several decks. They got off and Murdock cleared the area, saw no Koreans, and let Verbort leave the car and head down a corridor.

Six people sat in the doctor’s office. Murdock and his men went through a door into a small clinic that was now filled wall to wall with wounded. Twelve victims lay in the beds. Some were sleeping, others crying. One man moaned with every breath he took.

A harried-looking man in a white lab coat came in, stared around, and lifted his brows.

“Dr. Hanson, have you seen Captain Van Derhorn?” Verbort asked.

“Not for an hour. He’s recruiting passengers who are doctors or nurses. So far we have five helping. We could use a dozen more. I’ve taken over the next four storage areas and need more room. If you see him, get him back down here. We’ve had two more pass away. I hate this. I had enough of this in Vietnam.”

Murdock set his jaw. “Doctor, I promise you we won’t leave you any wounded Koreans to tend to.” He turned and walked out with his men. Verbort followed.

“I have no idea where either of the two captains are, Lieutenant,” Verbort said.

“We’ll find them eventually.” He used the Motorola. “Engine room, any report?”

“Cap, we’ve got a situation here. There are four crew in there working on the machinery, doing something. There are six armed Koreans watching them. They’re all too close together to get off good shots. They don’t know we’re here yet.”

Murdock recognized Mahanani’s voice.

“You have access through a door?”

“Affirmative.”

“How many flashbangs with your team?”

There was a pause.

“Yeah, Cap. Good thinking. We have four. I’d say we put two in the bunch, let them play out, then do it again. We have a go?”

“Just don’t hurt any of the crew. Single shot on the Fives when you get through the door. How many men you have?”

“We picked up a couple from First. Now we have five.”

“Get them all in as fast as you can after the last flashbangs go off. Nail the bad guys with gun butts, or kicks to the head. Try not to shoot while the crew is mixed in.”

“That’s a roger, Cap. We’re working on it. Report in about ten.”

“Cap, you still got your ears on?” another voice asked.

“Yes, Canzoneri, what’s happening?”

“That frigate is lit up like a spring dance. You heard the explosions. I think our boys used some claymores on it. She’s dipping her stern rail in the briny deep. Must be down eight feet at least. Her screws must be off, but she could still shoot. Don’t know if she could depress those big guns enough, but she’s got quad-fifties that could do the job. Suggest we call in some air before they start mowing us down with the fifties.”

Verbort was looking pale. “They could do it, Lieutenant. How can you call in an air strike?”

“We can’t, unless you can use your radio to contact the fighters overhead.”

“They did it this afternoon when the fighters first flew over. I used to do the radio. I’ll run up to communications and see if we can contact them. Are the fighters still up there?”

“I haven’t heard them lately, but I’d guess they are flying CAP on us. Let’s get to communications.”

They ran to the door and rushed to the elevators. A few minutes later they came into the communications room. No crewman was there. Verbort started turning on equipment, and soon he made a call.

“F-18’s, this is the Royal Princess calling. We could use some help. Are you still with us?”

“Royal, this is High Fly Leader. Just cruising around up above you.”

Murdock took the mike. “High Fly Leader. This is Murdock. Can you get weapons free on the frigate? She’s down in the stern from some mines. We think she may fire on the cruise ship with her quad-fifties. Can you ask your field for guns free?”

“This is Home Base. Murdock. The admiral called us. We understand your situation. If you think more gunfire is imminent from the frigate, I can give High Fly guns free.”

“Home Base, this is Murdock. I’d say the frigate is past due to fire on us with his three-inchers and his quads. The frigate is now almost a hundred yards from the liner. If the eighteens make their runs from south to north, any debris should not hit the liner. Yes, please, guns free.”

“Splash one frigate, High Fly. You have guns free on the frigate. The south-to-north run might be a good idea.”

“Roger that, Home Base. Going around now to make a south-to-north run. A forty-five-degree angle to target would be best. We’ll use that heading. High Fly One and Two, you have guns free on the frigate. Use the Harpoon missiles. Make the run now. High Fly Two, make the first run. I’ll be right behind you.”

Murdock looked at Jaybird.

“Cap, the Harpoon is an air-to-ship missile. A five-hundred-pound warhead that will put down a good-sized ship. Two of them will blow it right out of the water and all the way to San Bernardino.”

“Let’s go watch.”

The men all ran to the rail, then toward the stern. Two Koreans lifted up from around a lifeboat and fired. One round clipped Murdock in the left arm, and Jaybird nailed both the shooters with two bursts of three rounds. Murdock and his men moved back farther, and saw the frigate behind them a hundred yards. Jaybird saw blood on Murdock’s arm, and made him stop while he examined it.

“It’s an in-and-out, but it might have grazed the bone. We’ll check later.” He tied up the wound to stop the bleeding as they all watched the planes.

“Hope they target the right ship,” Jaybird said. “One of those Harpoon missiles would put this luxury liner on the bottom of the mother-loving Pacific.”

They watched. They knew there wouldn’t be any warning. Jaybird explained: “A jet coming straight at you doesn’t make any sound out front. It’s when it slams overhead and goes away that the sound comes. By then you’re either dead or they missed you.”

Jaybird saw a touch of exhaust out the back of the first jet, and pointed. A moment later the big bird screamed overhead, and they saw a burst of smoke as the sea-skimming missile angled straight for the Korean frigate. The fourteen-hundred-pound missile hit the frigate just off mid-ship, and blasted ten feet into the craft before the five hundred pounds of explosives detonated. The 334-foot-long Korean frigate jolted upward twenty feet when the missile exploded. Then it heeled over to port, and smoke poured from a massive fire that had ruptured the ship’s fuel tanks.

The fire outlined the ship at once. A creaking and groaning came from the massive steel structure of the ship, and then a ripping and tearing as the stern broke off and sank immediately. The bow and most of the middle of the ship floated, held in place by the anchor line. The fires grew and explosions racked the ship as one after another blossomed into the dark sky.

Less than two minutes after the missile hit the ship, it slipped under the water, the anchor still holding, bringing it straight down to the bottom.

A siren sounded on board the Royal Princess.

Then the public-address system came on. “This is Captain Van Derhorn speaking. All available crew members are to report to the lifeboats. Man boats and launch at once to search for survivors of the frigate. There were a hundred and thirty men on board. Search now and continue searching. I repeat, all available crew members trained in lifeboat launching report to the davits now for launching.”

Verbort ran back toward the lifeboats and began lowering the nearest to the water. Three crewmen stepped into the boat, and it pulled away toward the stern of the big ship and the place where the frigate had sunk.

Crewmen came out of their bunks, dressed quickly, and ran to the lifeboats. Soon they had twenty in the water, scouring the area that now showed as black as death, as they worked through the few items that had floated from the sinking frigate. Many of the passengers were awake and watching from the rails.

The PA system came on again. “Is there anyone on board who speaks Korean? We need to inform all the Korean sailors on board that they should turn in their weapons and give themselves up. They will not be harmed and will be turned over to representatives of their government when we reach port.”

Murdock called on his radio net. “All SEALs report in the usual rotation. First Platoon go first.”

He listened as the men checked in and told where they were and what they were doing. When the reports were done, Murdock knew that they had captured all of the vital control areas of the big ship. They had put down an estimated fourteen of the Koreans and captured six more. That still left at least thirty on the ship, including the frigate captain, Kim.

Five minutes later the PA system came on again with a woman speaking Korean. She pleaded with the men in their own language to lay down their arms and turn themselves in. Murdock headed for the bridge. The last he knew, the luxury-ship captain had been a prisoner of Captain Kim. Evidently he’d escaped. He might know where the Korean was.

On the bridge, Captain Van Derhorn shook his head. “I don’t know what happened to him. Three of us overpowered Kim, and took his weapon away from him, but he ran down a corridor and vanished.”

“He still has at least thirty armed men on board and could do a lot of damage. Could you get all passengers back in their cabins?”

The captain said he could, and made the announcement.

“All passengers are requested to return to their cabins and lock the doors. There are still hijackers on board who are armed and dangerous. Please return to your cabins at once.”

Murdock, Jaybird, and Ching huddled on the bridge.

“Where the hell can he be?” Ching asked.

“He’s lost his power base, no frigate,” Jaybird said. “So he’s on his own with his remaining troops. If he can find them. He could always swim to shore and fade into Korean Town in San Francisco or Los Angeles.”

“Or jump a South Korean flagship out of San Pedro and get back to Korea,” Murdock said. “More likely he’ll try fighting to the end on the ship. How do we find him?”

“Call him out for a one-on-one shoot-out on the fantail, like the old Westerns,” Ching said.

“Maybe not exactly that, but that’s an idea. We use the PA system for sure.”

The Motorolas sounded and the three listened. “Skipper, Jefferson. We’ve got a situation down here on the promenade deck that you need to be in on. Some wild-eyed Korean with a sub gun has six passengers in nightclothes pasted against a bulkhead and is threatening to shoot them. Too damn many civvies around for Donegan or me to get off a good shot.”

“Hold the fort, Jefferson. We’re on our way,” Murdock said, and the three SEALs took off running.