Payback

19

Lam could see little inside the tent. Only a dim candle burned. A cot to one side held some blankets, but he couldn’t be sure if anyone lay there. Cautiously he pushed the opening wider and stepped through. Two steps brought him to the bed. No one there. He looked around the tent. The rest of it was nearly empty, no cots or other gear. On a small table he saw a large briefcase, and recognized the Presidential seal on the side. He checked it. The lock had been broken and inside were hundreds of sheets of paper and file folders. Must be important.

He heard voices outside, and stepped quickly to the front of the tent to the side away from where the flap would open. A new voice came in English.

“Hell of a note when a guy can’t even take a piss by himself. You sure you went two years to UCLA?”

“Quite certain, Mr. President told them I was a South Korean. Now if you’ll just go back in the tent and have a nap, this night will be over before you know it and we’ll be on our way again. Our transport will be here a half hour after dawn. So be well rested and ready for travel.”

“By then you’ll be chatting away with your honored ancestors in hell, or wherever you people go.”

“Wishful thinking, Mr. President. Now inside.”

The flap opened and a man came through. Lam had never seen the President in person. The man stepped inside, went to the cot, and sat down heavily.

“Where in hell are the Marines when you need them?” he asked out loud. Lam moved without a sound on the canvas floor to the far side of the President and called out softly.

“Don’t be alarmed, Mr. President.”

President Dunnington’s head jerked up and he stared at the man in the shadows of the one candle.

“What in hell?”

“Not the Marines, Mr. President,” Lam said softly as he stepped toward the Chief Executive. “Just a few SEALs come to help you out of this mess. Should I carry your briefcase as we go through the back of the tent?”

The President looked at the long slit in the tent and laughed softly. “Oh, yes, that would be good. You with Murdock?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Damn good. Let’s move.”

They stepped through the slit in the tent one at a time, and Lam carried the heavy briefcase. The President ran into the woods, and Lam came right behind him. He stopped the President.

“We have to move slowly and without a sound so they don’t know you’re gone. We need thirty yards to clear before the rest of the platoon opens fire. Straight ahead, Mr. President.”

It seemed to Lam that it took forever before they were thirty yards away from the tent. He saw Murdock on the ground ready to fire, and waved at him.

Murdock pulled down the mike. “Nobody is in the tent on the left. Riddle the other one and get anybody who comes out. Open fire.”

Lam helped the President sit down, then pulled the MP-5 off his back and joined in. The MP-5’s stuttered out three-round bursts. The 5.56 rounds spurted out of the Bull Pups, and the rest of the weapons rained instant death on the North Koreans. The tent on the right ripped into shreds and fell. Men spewed out of it firing to the rear, but were cut down at once. Lam rushed the President behind a big pine tree, then found a pine himself and fired around it. Two men fell into the campfire and didn’t move. A half-dozen tried to run into the brush beyond the small clearing, but were flattened by the withering fire of the automatic rifles and the H & K 21A1 machine gun. When the SEALs saw no one moving, they slowed their firing, and then stopped.

“Donegan, Bradford, make sure,” Murdock said. The two SEALs lifted from their cover and moved up to the scene slowly, watching for any movement. Bradford swung to the right and fired three rounds at a North Korean who lifted up with his rifle. The man flopped down and stayed.

Donegan moved closer and then into the clearing. He fired a single shot, and moved on. Bradford fired another single round to put a wounded man out of his misery. SEALs take no prisoners.

“When you’re sure of every body, count them,” Murdock said.

Lam went back with the President, who still sat behind the tree. “There were fifteen of them with me,” President Dunnington said. “Two of them spoke good English. They didn’t talk much about why they attacked the ranch. They did say that they would keep me captive until the United States made massive war-crime payments to the North Korean people. They wanted three trillion dollars in trade, goods, credit, and hard cash. Ridiculous. They were the ones who attacked South Korea two years ago, not the other way around.”

Murdock and DeWitt went to the clearing and looked for any kind of papers or plans. They found a map on one of the bodies, and some papers in Korean on another. The rest of the men had no identification of any kind, not even dog tags. DeWitt found the SATCOM in the riddled tent. It had taken three slugs and was ruined. He slung it over his shoulder. Maybe they could repair it. They never did find the Secret Service radio.

Murdock went to where he saw Lam, and knelt down in front of the nation’s highest elected official.

“Mr. President, do you feel like walking back to the ranch house?”

“Ready right now. You’re Murdock? Lieutenant Commander Murdock of SEAL Team Seven, Third Platoon?”

“Yes, sir.”

“We’ve talked several times on the phone. Strange that we meet this way. But I’m grateful. How are my people?”

“My senior chief told me that all of your staff people are fine except for one we can’t find, Maria Alvarez.”

“I know, I saw that bastard shoot her in the head. I thought he was bluffing. He also killed one of the waitresses. How many North Korean bodies did you count down there? I hope to God that you nailed him.”

“There were fifteen dead North Koreans, sir. We had them boxed in, in a cross fire. Not much of a chance anyone could get away.”

“Thank God for that. But it won’t bring back Maria. She was a good one. They also killed Barney Bronson, who owns the ranch. What about General Arnold?”

“Yes, we found her in the brush. She has on cammies and is packing a rifle. She helped us on the perimeter defense.”

“Sounds like her.” The President paused. “Well, I’m ready to travel anytime you are. Have you notified my office about this yet?”

“They know you were attacked. We didn’t tell them that you were captured. Now we don’t have to. We have a SATCOM that you can use as soon as we get back to the ranch house.”

“Move us out, Commander.”

“Yes, sir, Mr. President.”

They left the camp and the bodies where they lay. Someone would come in the next day or two, bury the bodies, pick up the weapons, and clean up the area so it could revert back to the natural Sierra woodland. In five years no one would be able to find the exact spot where the President had been held captive by a foreign power. It would be better that way.

The hike back to the ranch house took an hour and a half. Murdock and the President were in front, and the SEAL let the nation’s leader set the pace.

Back at the ranch house, the President at once called his office on the SATCOM and had a long private talk.

Murdock got the SEALs collected. They had taken no casualties in the firefight. Lillian Bronson, wife of the murdered owner of the ranch, said that they could sleep in the bunkhouse, off to the left of the main house. It turned out to be a dormitory with thirty beds in two big rooms.

Murdock used his SATCOM and called the Quarter Deck in Coronado. They had their ears on.

“Murdock, hoped you would call,” Master Chief Petty Officer MacKenzie said. “How is the mission going?”

“Wrapped up, Master Chief. You still blacked out there?”

“On and off, mostly off. Wrapped up? You found the man and he’s safe.”

“Safe and sound and talking with his office right now. We’ll stay here tonight and do any cleanup work we need to tomorrow. Hold the paperwork for me.”

“Can do that, Commander. Glad he’s all right. When you move, use that chopper you left at the bridge. He’s still there and getting hungry. The jet is waiting for you at Sacramento. Keep up the good work, Commander.”

“You too, Master Chief. See you tomorrow.”

Murdock talked to Mrs. Bronson, and had a car take a big pot of coffee and a dozen sandwiches down to the men at the helicopter near the bridge. There was a good road that went down there and the lady said it would be no problem. Murdock knew the men wouldn’t leave the chopper unprotected. They’d sleep beside it all night.

General Arnold came in, still wearing her cammies and watch cap. “I like them,” she said when the men with the President looked at her. “We going to have another meeting tonight, or are you wimps so tired you need to go to sleep.”

President Dunnington came up and grinned at her comment.

“If they aren’t too tired, I am. The SEALs saved all the papers we had been working on. North Korea would have loved to have had them.” He looked at Murdock and walked over and shook his hand. “This mission wasn’t covert, so I’m going to have a unit citation struck for your platoon. Also I’m giving your man Lampedusa an instant promotion to first class. Figure it out any way you can. The man deserves it big-time. He grabbed me right out from under the noses of fifteen armed killers.” The civilians stared at the President. “Yes, I’ll tell all of you about it when we have time.”

He stopped and looked around the dining room where most of the President’s men, the staff, and the Secret Service men had congregated. “I’ve lost four good people on this trip. Three of my top Secret Service men and Maria Alvarez. The responsible parties have paid with their lives, but that doesn’t bring the dead back with us. First order of business tomorrow is to locate our dead and have them flown out by helicopter to Sacramento. I have ordered enough CH-53’s into Sacramento from surrounding bases to take everyone out of here by noon. A graves-registration squad will come in with its own transport to take care of the North Koreans. They will not be sent back to their homeland. That team will also retrieve the weapons the terrorists used and tear down and dispose of the camp that was built there.” The President looked at Lillian Bronson, who now owned the ranch.

“Lillian, did you and Barney know about that camp?”

“We heard that it was being built. Some man from Sacramento said it would be a boy’s camp for underprivileged children.”

“Was he Oriental?”

“Yes, he said he was Chinese.”

“So they really did a lot of planning,” the President said. “How did they know we would be coming here?”

“I can’t figure it out, Mr. President. The camp went up in a week just before you arrived. They asked if they could drive across some of our pasture with a truck.”

“So, I’ve got a leak somewhere among my top advisors, or their staffs. I’ll work on that.” The President turned and looked into the activity room. “Anybody want to shoot a game of nine ball? Pool always relaxes me after I exercise.”

Murdock excused himself and went out to the bunkhouse. He’d had enough exercise for one day.

The next morning the breakfast buffet began at 0600 for the staff and cowboys, and lasted until 0930. The SEALs all feasted on their choice of bacon, cheese omelets, breakfast steak, hash browns, pancakes, waffles, fruit salad, eggs to order, and lots of coffee, tea, and hot chocolate.

“Why don’t we eat here every day,” Jaybird said.

The big cook with the chef’s hat put out a fresh tray of crisp bacon. “Hey, SEAL, you can come to my kitchen anytime. I like a big eater,” the chef said.

By 0800 the President led six SEALs with two stretchers up the trail where he and the Secret Service men had been attacked. Both agents had been shot once in the forehead.

“They were on us before we knew what happened,” the President said. “They could have killed me as well. Now I’m sure they wish they had.”

The SEALs wrapped the bodies in sheets, put them on the stretchers, and took turns carrying them a mile down through the woods and past a small cabin. A man with a dozer blade on a tractor pushed the five burned-out helicopters off the parking lot.

Promptly at 0930 three big CH-53’s whupped their way up the mountain, circled, and then all landed on the now-empty parking lot.

They had found Maria Alvarez where she had fallen when the North Koreans executed her. They wrapped her in a sheet and took her to one of the helicopters with the three dead men. One Secret Service man went with the bodies to see that they were flown as soon as possible to Washington, D.C. Mrs. Bronson had found her husband’s body, and had had her men put it on the bed in the master bedroom. She would call the sheriff about it later.

“The blackout is lifted at Sacramento,” Lillian said to the President. “I just got word on the telephone. Most of the coast is up and working again, and airliners are getting serviced and starting to meet their schedules.”

Murdock caught the President’s attention. “Sir, is there anything else you need us for?”

The President shook Murdock’s hand, then pulled him into a bear hug. He released the hold and stepped back. “Commander, I don’t know how to thank you. I tried to promote you, but the CNO said if I did, they would have to bounce you out of the platoon and boot you upstairs somewhere. I don’t want that. I might try a promotion order to take effect as soon as you leave the active SEAL platoon. That might work. I appreciate it. The nation is thankful. You’re going to get a big blast of publicity about this because I’m turning loose my press secretary on it. You’ll have many visitors from the press and TV. Now, to answer your question. Yes, you may be relieved of your duties here and report back to Coronado.”

Lillian had been listening. “I agree with what the President has said. I’m just sorry I couldn’t talk my husband out of trying to fight off fifteen men with a pistol.” She turned away and touched her eyes with a tissue. “At any rate, I have a stake truck that is available to take you and your SEALs down the hill to your helicopter, if that would be all right.”

“Yes, that would be fine. And I’m deeply sorry for the loss of your husband.”

“Thank you. The truck will be at the bunkhouse when you’re ready.”

The trip back to San Diego was routine. Electrical power had been fully restored to the entire Western electrical grid, and slowly life returned to near normal. Except at the airports, which had planes and passengers stacked up so far that it might take a week to get things straightened out.

Murdock checked his watch as he kicked off the bus from North Island to the Coronado strand outside the NAVSPECWARGRUP-ONE Quarter Deck. It was just after 1500. He had promised the men they would be through for the day as soon as they cleaned their weapons and took care of their gear.

“Oh, yeah, gonna see my honey tonight,” Jaybird yelped. “Got me this hot little number down in Chula Vista…”

“Hey, no good woman ever came out of Chula Vista,” Bradford shot back. “Creepy, crawling things all over them.”

“Hooha yourself, big buddy. You ain’t never seen this little gem. She’s a keeper. Well, for a couple of months at least.”

Mahanani listened to the chatter as he cleaned his weapons, stashed them, and took care of the rest of his equipment, refilling his ammo pouches with the regular supply of rounds. Then he was across the Quarter Deck, in his Buick, and heading for his apartment. He had on his civvies, and a new jet-black driving cap with a short bill like they used to wear in the twenties. He’d heard they were coming back and he liked the way it fit on his head.

His palms were itching for some action, but then he remembered he had been cut off from playing at the casino. Damn them. Sure he owed them a few bucks. Maybe he should make enough drug runs to Tijuana for them to clear his IOU. That would take a lot of trips, like fifteen. He had only made two so far. A dozen more? Sounded good, but he had a strong feeling that before he was through, he’d get nailed by the Border Patrol guys for sure.

He drummed his fingers on the steering wheel as he sat outside his apartment. Hell, it was early. He could do a run to TJ and be back in time to catch a good war movie on TV. He turned, headed across the high Coronado Bay Bridge, and drove to the east to where the Casa Grande Casino flaunted itself near the highway.

He parked in the big lot and thought about it. A risk, sure, everything was a risk. But he’d have a clean car and not overloaded, so no reason the inspectors would challenge him. He’d give it one more try. Maybe this time he’d figure out how to nail these bastards and get them put away. How was he going to work a trap?

He locked the Buick and walked in the front door. This time he turned into the hallway and went directly to the Hammer’s office. He pushed inside and saw Harley talking to Martillo.

“Well, the hero comes home,” Harley said. “Heard about you SEALs rescuing the President up there in the Sierras.”

“Yeah, that’s the job. Can I make a run to TJ today?”

“So, Mahanani, how many of the North Koreans did you kill?” Martillo, the Hammer, asked.

“I didn’t keep track. You need any goods moved today or not?”

“He doesn’t want to talk about it,” Harley said. “He’s the sensitive type.”

“I should have called first. Maybe I can do some good next time,” Mahanani said. He turned to leave. Harley moved quickly in front of him.

“Hold it, man. We didn’t say we didn’t have no goods. Just curious about the big shoot-out.” Harley frisked him expertly, found no weapons, but it seemed to Mahanani that he searched for a wire and transmitter as well.

“Clean as a baby’s bottom.”

“Yeah, you can pick up a load,” the Hammer said. “Get down to San Ysidro now and pick up a car and leave it at the TJ garage. Then have a couple of drinks and shop or some fucking thing, and don’t go back over the border for at least four hours. The pricks down there are getting leery of over-and-back trips that are too quick.”

Mahanani stared at the Hammer for a few seconds, then nodded. “Yeah, I can do that. Another four hundred off my bill, right?”

“Right,” Harley said. “I’m keeping track. Remember to be relaxed when you come back across. Don’t act nervous or you’ll end up in Chino Prison for five to ten. Now go.”

Mahanani left the room, marched down the hall, through the lobby, and outside. The fresh air felt good. He couldn’t imagine what it would be like to be stuffed into a cell for twenty years. So he had to do everything right this time. Once more. Then he’d figure out how to turn in these bastards without getting both his legs broken and a pair of .22- caliber slugs in the back of his head.