Payback

21

Commander Dean Masciareli looked up as Murdock and DeWitt entered his office. They both braced at attention.

“At ease,” he said. “I just received an order through channels to activate some of the platoon. You may not have heard, but there have been ten forest fires in Oregon and Washington through the Cascade Mountains. All of incendiary origin. One eyewitness to one of the fires has reported that a pair of Orientals wearing cammies and backpacks and carrying rifles started a fire, then hurried away and vanished into the woods. The backpackers said the Orientals didn’t see them.”

“Are the fires under control?” DeWitt asked.

“Four of them have been put out. Two are out of control and burning in valuable timber. There’s been another sighting, and now the National Forestry officials say they have reports of four teams of arsonists loose and on foot that they want to track. They are limited as to manpower, and want some help. Frankly, they want eight men who are expert trackers who can deal with the arsonists if and when they are run down.”

“That’s where we come in?” Murdock asked.

“Right. I want each of you to pick the three best trackers in your squads and be ready to shove off in thirty minutes. Go light on the ammo, take all of your Bull Pups for long-range work, and be in the parking lot in thirty. That’s all. You’re dismissed.”

The two officers did snappy about-faces and hurried out the door.

“Tracking arsonists?” DeWitt asked as they hurried back to the platoon area.

“Better than a sharp stick in the eye, but not much,” Murdock said. “I’m taking Lam, Jaybird, and Bradford. You?”

“I’m thinking. Franklin, Mahanani, and Fernandez. Eight men, but we only have seven Bull Pups.”

“Have the other man bring an MP-5. We might need it.”

Twenty-five minutes later the eight SEALs, in fresh cammies and dry floppy hats, waited on the parking lot for the bus. They wore their combat vests with the usual gear and carried one GPS device and a SATCOM.

The Gulfstream II that had brought them back from Sacramento had been serviced and restocked and waited for them at North Island. The crew chief was a cute little dark-haired second-class petty officer who checked their seat belts and made sure their gear was stowed safely.

“Good morning, SEALs. You may not know where we’re headed. Our pilot tells me he has flight orders to take you to Portland International Airport up in Oregon. From there you’ll go by CH-46 to the nearest sighting and get to work.”

“Are we all on the same trail?” DeWitt asked.

“That I don’t know. Now, settle down, we have some good Navy chow coming for you.” She grinned. “Not true. We do have some first-class flight trays that we’re waiting for. They are three minutes late, but the pilot says he won’t leave until the chow gets here. There will be one meal.”

“Flight time?” Murdock asked.

“Commander, that will be about two hours. We’re on maximum cruise of five-oh-five miles an hour and the distance is a thousand and ninety miles. Make it two hours and fifteen minutes.” She looked at the front of the craft. “Good, the food has arrived. We’ll be taking off in five minutes.”

She vanished into the front cabin.

“I could get used to this first-class living,” Jaybird said.

“The crew chief is not included on the menu,” Mahanani said.

“Don’t throw boiling pineapple juice on a man’s dreams, Hawaiian beach boy.”

Two hours later they landed in Portland, and were rushed to a pair of waiting CH-46’s with National Forestry markings.

“Two different locations,” DeWitt said.

Murdock conferred with a Forestry pilot, then motioned DeWitt and his men into one chopper. He and his Alpha Squad men boarded the other one. The doors closed and both birds took off at the same time. At once they flew in different directions.

Murdock went to the cabin and talked with the pilot.

“Orders are to take you into the Cascades just north of Government Camp,” said the pilot. “Lots of good timber up in there. Two fires have been attacked and put out, but there is another one burning and the arsonists are moving slowly east. We hope to land you in front of them so you can net them as they come through.”

“Where does the tracking come in?” Murdock asked, talking loudly over the constant roar of the engine and the whupping of the rotor blades.

“If you miss them in the net, you find their tracks and hunt them down. I understand you’re good at that.”

“We’ve done some tracking work. How long till we hit the LZ?”

“Fifteen minutes. Not far, but damn rugged territory.”

“How high is it in there?”

“You’ll be just east of Mt. Hood, which is almost twelve thousand feet. Most of the area you’ll be in is around five to six thousand. No snow this time of year, but it gets nippy at night.”

Murdock went to the back of the chopper and filled in his three men. He felt naked with only half his squad. If they were lucky there would be no gunfire and it could be wrapped up quickly. Finding a couple of firebugs should be a snap.

The crew chief came back wearing a frown. “Commander, we’ve just had word that these arsonists you’re looking for have at least one rifle and maybe two. They fired on some backpackers who happened past. No one was hit, but the packers got out of that area in a rush. They had a radio and gave the warning. Their position seems to be west of where we have our LZ and the Koreans are moving east.”

“Thanks. How long until we hit the LZ?”

“Maybe five minutes. I’m opening one side door. That enough?”

Murdock nodded, and the second Forestry man unlatched and opened the right-hand side door.

Murdock motioned for the men to stand, and they quickly checked each other’s equipment. Then they picked up their weapons and stood near the door watching the green on green of the Oregon forest passing by below. Then the chopper took a sudden diving slant to the left, straightened out, and moved slowly ahead. Then the nose came up and the craft settled the last two feet to the turf. The SEALs jumped out of the bird and ran into the woods thirty yards away. The helicopter lifted off and darted back the way it had come.

The SEALs stopped just inside the cover and looked at each other. “What the hell are we supposed to do now?” Jaybird asked.

“Find the bastards,” Lam said. “First we need to get to some high ground where we can watch the countryside to the west.”

“How we going to see anything with the thick forest cover?” Bradford asked. “These damn Douglas fir, spruce, and cedar are so close together they make a canopy over the ground. Only place we can see through them is where they burned off or were logged over.”

Murdock saw a small ridge to the left, and he led the men that way. “So we watch the open spaces. If they’re smart or tired, that’s where they’ll hike. The path of least resistance.”

When they made it up the ridge, they found there were six different areas they could see to the west that would provide any hiker with an easier trail than jamming through the brush.

“We watch them,” Murdock said. He’d made sure each of the men had a pair of binoculars. The men sat down in the grass and wildflowers and began watching their assigned areas.

“I’ve got some movement just at the edge of that little meadow down there. Second from the top,” Lam said.

“Yeah, I have it,” Bradford said. He paused. “Jeez, look at that, a white-tail doe and a fawn. Sure wish this was deer season.”

“Speaking of venison for supper, how many MREs do we have?” Jaybird asked. “I only brought three. We could be out here for days.”

“We’re only ten miles ahead of the last known fire,” Murdock said. “If these guys are any good, they’ll do ten miles along these ridges and start another fire.”

“What if they start one before then and we see the smoke?”

“We radio the Forestry people on TAC Four and report it. Then we hunker down and go meet the firebugs who must be hightailing it toward us.”

Lam scowled and shook his head. “Skipper, it seems like we’re making a lot of assumptions. We’re planning on what these guys are going to do, and we don’t know if they will do any of the four or five things we hope they will do.”

“So we sit and wait and watch.” Murdock moved his sight line higher. “Hold it. About two fingers over that last open spot, is that smoke?”

“Hell, yes, Skipper,” Jaybird chorused. “You get a merit badge for fire-fighting. They expect us to go down there and put out the fire?”

“Not until we report it. Bradford, get it in gear.”

Bradford unhooked the eleven-pound SATCOM radio from his back and set up the small dish antenna. He turned it until he picked up the satellite, and then snapped on the switches and dials and gave the handset to Murdock.

“Ready to rumble, Commander.”

“Forestry Four, this is Murdock. Over.” There was no response. Bradford checked the SATCOM antenna position. He made a small adjustment.

“Forestry Four, this is Murdock. Over.”

“Yes, Murdock we hear you. Over.”

“We have a smoke. It’s almost on a direct line west of us from where the chopper set us down. You have that position.”

“Roger that, Murdock how far on that heading?”

“How far, Lam?” Murdock asked.

“Three miles, three and a half.”

“Three to three and a half miles, Forestry Four.”

“Roger, we’re on it with a tanker and a jump crew. We expect the fire-starters to move toward you on that same heading. Over.”

“Right, Forestry. We’re about ready to go and see if we can meet these gents. Over.”

“Extreme caution. They are armed.”

“Thanks, Forestry Four. We’ve got a bit of firepower ourselves. We’ll keep you informed. Murdock out.”

Bradford turned off the set, folded up the antenna, and stashed it with the SATCOM.

“Let’s figure their best route this direction from that smoke, then get down from here and sit and wait for them.”

“Moving is good,” Bradford said. “My ass was getting sore sitting on that hard ground.”

Lam studied the land between them and the smoke. It seemed to come up from behind a ridge about three over. “Could be another ridge in there, but my guess is they would go up the valley where they set the fire, then over the ridge when it petered out and swing back west again.”

“Another assumption,” Jaybird said.

“That’s the best we have,” Murdock said. “Lam, we go down to the second ridge from the fire and watch over the top and see where they show up?”

“About the size of it. Second ridge will give us some operating time.”

“Got to thinking about the Bull Pup,” Bradford said. “If they stick to the trees, an airburst might not be much good. Too many big fir trees to absorb the shrapnel. If they do take the easy route out in the open, the laser might be the ticket.” Murdock put them on a fast pace down the slope and up the other side, then down another one and up. They paused on top as they all slithered up to the ridgeline and looked over it down into the third valley.

“No movement,” Lam said.

“Not time enough for them to get here,” Jaybird said.

“Not many open spots down there for them to utilize either,” Murdock said. “So we wait.”

Twenty minutes later, Jaybird was the first to see the movement. “Yeah, I got something. About twenty degrees right of that old lightning-hit snag halfway up the slope.”

“Got it,” Lam said. He refined the focus on his glasses. “Could be another deer going through the brush,” he said.

“Or some gook crashing brush in Pyongyang City Park chasing some slant-eyed little beauty,” Bradford said.

All four binoculars zeroed in on the spot.

“More movement to the right,” Murdock said. “Could be working toward that rocky open spot more to the right.”

They waited. Then Bradford grinned. “Be damned. Two of them, two guys in cammies or I’m a horntailed, fucking cow. Look at them, like they didn’t have a worry in the world.”

“How far, Lam?” Murdock asked.

“Two thousand yards, maybe more. They just look closer.”

“I was figuring about twenty-five hundred. Too far for a Bull Pup shot. Anybody guess where they are headed?”

Jaybird studied the landscape in front of the pair. “They’re on the side of that ridge. They go down it to that small valley, work it toward us to get back on their east heading. My guess is they cross the valley in the open and work toward us at about a forty-five-degree angle, and climb the ridge one or two down in front.”

“There’s that one more small ridge down there between us and that valley,” Lam said.

“Oh, yeah. Missed it.” Jaybird scowled. “So hey, we just wait until they get down the second one and come up this little one. Then they’ll be in range of the Pups.”

“If we can catch them away from the trees,” Murdock said. “It might not be that easy.”

They waited.

“I’m taking up the harmonica,” Jaybird said. “No kidding. It’s a great little instrument. Heard a guy in an improv club the other night, and he was great. They don’t cost much, and I can get a book and learn myself.”

“Keep it in the woodshed while you’re learning,” Bradford said. “My brother tried to learn. Sounded like a damned train whistle that was out of whack.”

“Hey, man. I say I’m gonna do something, I’m gonna do it. Fact is, I bought an instrument couple of nights ago and I’ve been practicing.”

“Just so you didn’t bring it with you,” Lam said. “We’re on a quiet watch here.”

A soft wail of four notes on a harmonica answered him.

“Just a test,” Jaybird said. “No, I’m not going to practice. I do that alone.”

“How long until our friends push over that ridgeline down there?” Murdock asked.

“Another twenty,” Lam said. “That’s tough going, up and down that way, and they must be bushed.”

“How far is that ridge, Jaybird?” Murdock asked.

“Eight hundred yards. Hey, damn, it’s in range for a laser, and no real trees up on top. Barren as an old maid’s womb.”

“My guess was seven-fifty, so we’re good. Lam and Jaybird, take the first shots as soon as they come all the way over the ridge. Bradford and I will ride herd. If they don’t go down, or scramble for cover, it’s our turn. All lasers.”

They settled in and waited. All with rounds in the chambers, the safeties off, and sweat starting to ooze out of their foreheads.

“Waiting is always the toughest,” Bradford said.

“Not for me,” Jaybird said. “I can catch a little nap and wake up refreshed and ready to nail these bastards.”

“Look, there’s the smoke,” Lam said. “Now it’s up where we can see it again.” A moment later they heard an airplane, and then saw a big tanker lumbering over the ridges. Evidently the pilot spotted the smoke, climbed, and did a series of turns, and then came down at a flat angle and vanished behind a ridge. Seconds later he zoomed up from the other end of the ridge.

“Borate,” Murdock said. “Borate bombers. It’s a red powder that is a fire-retardant. Things just don’t burn where it falls. Washes away in the winter and causes no harm.”

“Can they put out a fire that way, without a ground crew?” Jaybird asked.

“If the fire is caught early, and they get lucky. A ground crew will go in and mop it up, but this way they can hit it while it’s small. Might take a ground crew six, eight hours to find the flames. And by then half the hill would be on fire.”

“Those gooks have used up their twenty minutes,” Lam said. “They must be getting tired.”

“Hope they don’t flake out for a nap,” Jaybird said.

“I’ve got movement midway along that second ridge,” Murdock said. The rest saw them then, the two men in cammies, who came to the top of the ridge and stood there a moment.

Two shots blasted from the Bull Pups, 20mm rounds lasered, and were on their way.

“I’ve got the right-hand guy,” Murdock said.

The airbursts exploded in a cracking roar as the big rounds finished their mandatory rotations and went off. Murdock watched his right-hand man through the scope. He had the sights set on him as he sagged, tried to run, doubled over, and fell. He didn’t move.

Bradford’s man looked around and limped toward the ridgeline. Bradford’s weapon went off just before the North Korean got to the ridge top and safety. The big round exploded at his feet, blasting a hundred shards of hot steel into his body, taking off half his face and slamming him backward. He fell half over the ridge with only his feet and legs visible.

“Splash two,” Jaybird said.

“Bradford, break out the SATCOM,” Murdock said. “Jaybird, use the GPS and have our coordinates ready.”

Forestry Four came on the SATCOM on the first call.

“Forestry, we have a splash two of the firebugs. Down and out. They are on a ridge in the open about eight hundred yards from our coordinates on a near-westerly heading.” He gave the radioman their coordinates from the GPS.

“Well done, Murdock. We’ll have a chopper on its way to pick you up in ten. Take it about twenty to find you. Do you have a good LZ?”

“Tell the crew chief to drop a ladder and pick us off the ridge. We do ladder pickups all the time.”

“The pilot won’t like the air currents around a ridge, Commander. Isn’t there a flat LZ around there?”

“Not without trees all over it. We’ll do the ladder pickup out the rear hatch.”

“I’ll tell him. Commander, we just have a new fire sighted. It’s about ten miles from you along a road. It looks like one of the team of North Korean fire-starters may have hijacked a car. When the pilot picks you up, we’ll try to get you in front of traffic along that road. It’s a gravel-surface secondary, will show a dust trail, and not many cars in there this time of year. We’ll keep you informed. We’ll contact you through the chopper pilot when you’re airborne. Leave your SATCOM on this TAC in case we have a change in plans. Four out.”

“Hot damn, a car chase,” Jaybird said. “Just what we need to brighten our day.”

“What you need to brighten your day is one of my marine oil paintings,” Bradford said. “I’ve got just the one for your den.”

“I don’t have a den.”

“For your living room.”

“Don’t need no damn painting.”

“Thought you might like it. It’s a lonesome pelican sitting on a piling staring at a charter fishing boat just pulling in.”

“Save me the trouble.”

“How is the new art group doing at the studio?” Murdock asked.

Bradford shrugged. “We’re paying the rent, and nobody is faking old masters.”

“The trial come yet?”

“Nope, her lawyer got it put off again. She’s out on bail. I fully expect her to skip out and be gone.”

“Hey, did any of you guys see rifles with that pair?” Jaybird asked. “I didn’t notice any long guns, no guns at all.”

Murdock scanned the scene with his Bull Pup scope. “No weapons show on this side of the ridge. They are in cammies. We’ll let the Forestry people and the local coroner figure it out.”

The SATCOM speaker came back on. “Murdock, this is Forestry Four. The chopper pilot is from the National Forest Air. He says his orders specifically prohibit any in-air pickups. You’ll have to find a flat LZ where the pilot can land. Do you copy?”

“Copy that, Forestry Four,” Murdock said. Now where in hell could they find a level LZ up in these ridges?