Payback

18

Lam’s silent shot huffed into the high Sierra night air. The North Korean guard slammed forward, dropped his long gun, and sprawled next to the ranch house. Murdock waited, watching the man through his NVGs. The green image in the night goggles showed the man as still as death.

Lam swung his head to the left and checked the other guard. The one who had been walking his post came almost to the kitchen, then stumbled and fell. Lam squirmed back to the general and traded weapons with her.

“Nineteen rounds left in the magazine,” he said. He took the MP-5 and her magazines and moved to the tree that he and Murdock had picked out for their meet. The other two SEALs were there, and Jaybird motioned him forward. They jogged the forty yards to the right-hand entrance and paused a dozen feet away to watch it. They saw no movement.

The dead guard lay where he had fallen. Jaybird sprinted for the door and tried it. Unlocked. He pulled it open slowly. Coleman gas lights were on now inside the house. He could see down a hallway with numerous doors leading off it. Murdock and Lam crowded behind Jaybird. Murdock motioned to the first two doors on the left, pointing to the other two men. He had the doors on the right. He stepped into the hall and waited. No sound, no movement.

Murdock turned the knob on the first door and jolted it open. The room was empty, but clothes were scattered on the unmade bed. He eased down the hall to the second door. He saw Lam and Jaybird shake their heads as they exited their rooms.

They checked the eight doors on the wing and found no people in any of them, and no dead bodies. When they came to the large living room they waited. DeWitt had to be coming down there somewhere.

On the other end of the ranch house, Ed DeWitt watched the two guards go down from the sniper rifle. One tried to crawl away, but a second round stopped him. DeWitt and his two men rushed to the kitchen door. They opened it and found two cooks there busy with their job of getting a meal.

They looked up in surprise.

“Who the hell are you guys?” the taller of the cooks, with the white chef’s hat, asked.

“Navy SEALs. Where are the kidnappers?”

“Hell, got me. Last I saw of them, this one boss gook guy said he wanted a box of sandwiches and six gallons of water. Made them up for him. Must have been an hour ago.”

“Any of the staff still here?” DeWitt asked.

“Don’t think so. Everybody ran out when the helicopters blew up. We were working and didn’t even hear it. Didn’t know nothing was wrong until the Chinks came in.”

“They’re North Koreans.”

“Slants, what’s the difference? You guys hungry?”

“Later,” DeWitt said, and hurried through the kitchen into a hallway that led to a pair of empty but recently used bedrooms, then a big double door.

“Clear it?” Canzoneri asked. DeWitt nodded. He grabbed the door handle and shoved the panel open. Nothing happened. Canzoneri looked around the doorjamb from floor height.

“Can’t see anybody,” he said.

De Witt charged into the room, his MP-5 swinging to cover it. There were two rooms and a big window facing the front. Had to be the owner’s suite.

“Nobody,” DeWitt said. They left the room and moved down a short hall to an empty dining room, then to the large living room.

“Entering the living room area,” DeWitt said on his Motorola.

“Copy that,” Murdock said. “We’re here as well. We came up empty.”

“So did we, except for two cooks,” DeWitt said. “The Ks have bugged out.” The SEALs moved forward cautiously through the living room and activity room until they met.

“Looks like we’re all clear on the ranch house,” Murdock said to the Motorola. “You men on blocking, turn around and give us a perimeter while we figure out what to do. Snipers come inside. You too, General Arnold.”

Murdock frowned. “First we check out this place and see if they hid anybody here, or if any of them are hiding. Let’s do a complete search. Ed, take the kitchen and those rooms down there. Alpha Squad will do the bedrooms down the other way. Let’s do it.”

Twenty minutes later Lam opened a closet in one of the bedrooms and jumped back. Two dead bodies fell out.

“Skipper, better come take a look. Fourth bedroom from the end.”

Murdock checked the bodies. “The man was shot to death, two in the back of his head. An execution. He must be the Secret Service guy. Jaybird, go down and bring back the three civilians we left behind.”

The second body was a woman, early thirties. “Probably one of the dining-room servers,” Lam said. She had also been shot, Murdock saw, two rounds to the chest. DeWitt checked in by radio. His men had found nothing in their search area.

The SEALs met in the living room. “So do the Ks have the President or don’t they?” DeWitt asked.

“We can’t tell,” Murdock said. “They left. Why? Could be because they had the President, and that’s what they came for.”

“Where can they go up in this wilderness?” Lam asked. “Unless they have some alternative transport, like a backup chopper somewhere.”

“Let’s hope not,” Canzoneri said. “Then we’ll never find them.”

“Lam, can you track them in the dark?” Murdock asked his lead scout.

“Should be fifteen or sixteen of them. That will make a good trail. Give me two Maglites and I’ll give it a shot.”

Horowitz came running in. “You find the President?”

“Afraid not, Mr. Horowitz,” DeWitt said.

“Use your radio and bring in all of your men,” Murdock said. “Have them bring any civilians with them. The Koreans have left the area, so it should be safe. Tell them to make themselves known. We have a perimeter set out.”

Jaybird took the Secret Service man down the hall to identify the dead man, and soon they heard a scream of protest.

Lam took two flashlights and went to talk to the cooks.

“Yeah,” said the taller cook, “they took the box of sandwiches, put them in their packs, and the water jugs, and took off. Was still light then. They headed out the back door here and walked due left down toward Wildcat Canyon. It’s about two miles over.”

Lam told Murdock what he knew on the net and headed out the door, checking the ground for what should be at least fifteen sets of footprints. Even on a trail he should be able to follow them. In the brush or woods it would be easier.

The Secret Service men and the resort staff began drifting in. There were four more government men, and they brought eight workers along with them. The Secret Service men huddled at one side. Horowitz left them and talked to Murdock.

“We want to use your SATCOM to call our office in D.C. and tell them what’s happened and ask for instructions.”

Murdock shook his head. “Not a good idea. We don’t know what’s happened. If we say the President has been kidnapped, it could cause a panic. Let’s hold off awhile. Your office can’t help us right now. What we need is a company of Marines for a blocking action and a pair of choppers with infrared imagers to show us where the Koreans are. We don’t have either and won’t get them. We wait on Lam and move out when he tells us to.”

The cook DeWitt had talked to came in and grinned when he saw all the people.

“Good, somebody to feed. I have sandwiches and beef stew in the dining room if anyone is interested. There also is plenty of coffee, tea, and soft drinks. I’ve set up for thirty, is that enough?”

Murdock called in the screening troops and they sat down to eat.

“Great time for a counterattack,” General Arnold said.

Murdock sipped his coffee and had another bite of the tuna-fish sandwich. “They are out of the area, I’m sure. Lam will keep us up to date.”

“What can we do until we hear from your tracker?” Horowitz asked.

“Not a hell of a lot except wait,” DeWitt said. He looked at Murdock. “Skipper, I checked the North Korean KIAs. No papers, no ID, nothing to indicate who they are or what they are doing.”

“Figures,” Murdock said, and reached for another sandwich.

Meanwhile, Lam came to a small stream and studied the obvious boot prints on the near side. All seemed to head directly into the water. But did they just cross or go downstream to confuse a tracker? No, they would go straight across. They would have no idea they would be followed at night. He crossed the stream and picked up the trail. Thirty boots tromping along was not hard to follow even at night. He used one light to save the other batteries.

The trail had swung downhill, and in the moonlight through gaps in the timber, Lam could see a meadowlike clearing coming up. He stopped and turned off his light and listened.

Nothing.

He flipped down the Motorola mike from his floppy hat brim. “Lam to Murdock.”

“Go.”

“Figure I’m about three miles from the ranch. Generally to the southwest, heading at a slant downhill. A clearing is coming up, a big one, like a meadow. Can’t see anything yet, or hear anything, but should be there in about ten. I’ll keep you posted.”

“Copy that.”

Lam moved forward, keeping the flashlight close to the ground. He watched for broken plants, mashed-down leaf mold, an occasional broken-off branch. By the time the last man had been through a narrow space, an easy-to-follow trail had been gouged out of the woodsy floor.

The tracker edged up to the fringe of woods around the open space. Yes, a mountain meadow that probably once was a lake. It was depressed in the center and covered ten or twelve square city blocks. Maybe twenty acres. He could see all around the edges of the opening and checked for lights. There were none. He held his breath, closed his eyes, and listened.

Yes, a muted laugh, a few words, all in some foreign language. They were somewhere close by. Why would they stop here? He checked the meadow again. Yes, it was dry, filled with grass. An ideal landing zone. He tried to sniff the faint breeze that blew toward him. There was no scent of oil or grease or even petroleum fuel. If there was a chopper close by, he couldn’t detect it. Why would they wait if they had a bird here? They wouldn’t. So maybe this was a pickup spot to be used in case of an emergency. They certainly had an emergency.

He backtracked a hundred yards and checked in with Murdock on the Motorola outlining where he was and what he had found.

“I haven’t been close to them yet, so I don’t know how many of them, and can’t tell if the President is with them. Want me to move up or wait for backup?”

“See what else you can find out. Then give us a compass heading so we can come find you. My guess is the quicker we get there the better. They could bug out again.”

Lam gave them an approximate compass heading and moved back toward the meadow. This time he stayed in the woods and worked his way fifty yards toward the voices before he angled back toward the opening. The wind shifted and he smelled wood smoke. Yes, they had a camp, so they would be there a while. He worked ahead slower, making sure he made no noise whatsoever that could be heard a dozen feet away.

Ten minutes of snail’s-pace moving later, he came over a slight rise and could see the reflection of firelight on the trees. He judged it to be fifty yards ahead. He closed his eyes again and listened. Yes, more voices, high-pitched, excited. They were celebrating? If so, they were a little premature.

Lam checked every three steps looking for exterior guards. He was sure they would have some out, maybe three of them. One was all he had to take care of. He moved to a large pine tree and edged his head around it. He figured he was still thirty yards from the camp.

Movement, just ahead. What? He lifted his NVG and checked. Yes, a man in jungle cammies with a sub gun sitting against a tree ten feet ahead. His chin had lowered to his chest. He could be dozing. Lam worked to his right, moving out of sight of the guard, then forward past him and to the left so he could come up behind the man. It took ten minutes to make the silent trip of forty feet. Then Lam was directly behind the man’s tree. He felt on his waist and pulled from his belt a length of piano wire that had been fitted with padded loops on each end. He held the ends and edged around the tree.

In one swift move he jumped beside the Korean guard, swung the loop of wire over his head, and jerked back hard with both hands. The surprised guard had time only to gurgle once as the thin wire sliced through his windpipe, then his jugular vein, and then cut through both his carotid arteries supplying blood to his brain. Blood spurted from the ruptured carotids with each beat of the Korean’s heart. The spurts became weaker and weaker, until no blood came out at all. In less than a minute the guard had expired.

Lam let him fall to the ground, cleaned the garrote on the dead man’s shirt, and put it back around his waist. He knelt and looked at the camp area. He still could see little. But the way should now be open. He worked ahead silently as a fox.

It took ten minutes to move thirty feet, and then he parted some heavy brush and looked out from ground level. Twenty feet ahead he saw the Koreans’ camp. There were two wall tents twenty feet long in a cleared area. Both had lights on inside. He could hear a muted engine that must be powering a generator.

The fire he had seen first glowed between the tents. Four men in jungle cammies sat around it eating off metal trays. The fronts of the tents faced each other. One had a door flap open. The other tent’s flap was closed and two armed guards stood in front of it.

If they had the President, he was in that guarded tent. What else would they guard? Yes, they had kidnapped the President. Was there any way Lam could get him out? The back of the tent stood only ten feet from the brush and tall trees.

Silently Lam worked backward and away from the camp. He moved fifty yards and then flipped down the swinging microphone and talked on the net.

“SEALs, I found them. My guess maybe four miles from the ranch house. They are on the edge of a meadow, maybe twenty acres. Somebody there might know where it is. They have a campsite that was built before tonight. Two ten-man tents and a generator for electricity. One of the tents is guarded, so my guess is that the President is inside. I need some backup. Suggest the platoon come on down.”

“Copy that, Lam,” Murdock said. “We’ll ask the locals if they know where that meadow is and if they can guide us there. Be in touch in five and on our way in ten.”

“Roger.”

Lam found a good spot and lay down. He rested his head on his hands and relaxed. He would hear the platoon if it came within two hundred yards of him. Murdock called back on the net that he had found one of the cowboys who knew of the meadow and would lead them to it. Lam rested for half an hour, then moved back along the trail toward the ranch for five hundred yards. Best to catch the troops away from the target and make their plans.

A half hour later, Lam came upright in a rush. Sounds, muted, the soft noise of someone moving through the woods. He relaxed. The sound came from the trail toward the ranch. He picked out a sturdy pine tree and stood behind it waiting to see if it really was the SEALs.

Lam watched the men approach. It was Murdock out front. Lam stepped out from the tree, waved, and then pointed his finger at them.

“Bang, bang, you’re dead,” he said.

Murdock stutter-stepped and then got his stride.

“You always surprise me that way, Lam. The cowboy led us to where we could see the meadow and then he went back. It looks like a camp that’s been there for some time?”

“Right. Small stream for water, generator, tents, the works. No rancher is going to put a setup like that out in here. The Koreans must have done a lot of planning for this hit.”

They walked forward. They talked in whispers.

“Is there any way to get the President out of there before we gun down the place?” Murdock asked.

“I think so,” Lam said. “The back of the tent comes within ten feet of the brush. I should be able to get to it, slit the tent open, and get inside unseen. Then take care of any interior guard and hustle the President out the back into the brush, and you guys open fire as soon as we clear.”

Murdock nodded. He passed the sign back down the line of SEALs for total quiet, and they marched on.

When they came within thirty yards of the tents, they stopped. Murdock moved the men into positions where they had open fields of fire. They were slightly above the level of the tents and had plenty of targets. Murdock had mandated no 20mm’s would be fired. When all the men were in favorable firing spots with cover, Murdock waved Lam forward.

He moved slowly, working on his belly the last ten yards to the fringe of woods just in back of the tent he figured the President would be in. Lam lay there for five minutes listening to the Koreans, watching for any more guards, checking to see if anyone walked behind the President’s tent. No one did.

It was time.

Lam edged out of the brush and took four quick steps to the back of the tent. He had his KA-BAR knife out, pushed the sharp point through the canvas head high, and pulled it slowly down. It made a soft slicing sound, and then he had it open to the bottom.

Lam pulled the sides of the tent apart and looked inside.