Payback

25

Murdock squinted against the bright sun and cursed the whole bloody Navy. “Take care of him, DeWitt. Anyone else wounded?”

“Anybody hit?” DeWitt called on his radio.

“Yeah, I got one in the shoulder, up high,” Canzoneri said. “Shouldn’t have come up to that damn stairway when I did.”

“Murdock, we have two wounded. This platform is clear. A local said the Americans were held hostage. We’ll do another search. We put down seven Koreans. Figured there would be more than that on here. Checking again.”

“Copy that, DeWitt. First take care of Franklin. He was a good man. I just dropped off two men and one limpet for the freighter. It’s four hundred yards away. We’ll return to the bunker and go below. You hold the tower.”

“Roger that, Murdock.” DeWitt turned to his men. “Mahanani, get up here. We need to move Franklin down to the first level. The rest of us will go over this platform with guns in hand and see if there are any more shitheads on board. Mahanani, take a look at Canzoneri’s shoulder and then my right leg. Let’s move, people.”

Howard and Bradford swam toward the freighter while ten feet below the surface, towing the large limpet mine along on its flotation device, which was half-filled. They checked their route once, with faces just breaking the surface, then bored in on the stern of the big freighter.

They hit the metal plates and worked along to the stern, then came back ten yards and planted the limpet two feet below the waterline. Bradford inserted the timer detonator, set it for fifteen minutes, and activated it. He pointed back the way they came, and both swam strongly away from the freighter. They kept two feet underwater, and after five minutes lifted up to the surface and swam for the Coast Guard cutter about a quarter of a mile to the west.

They had almost reached it when they felt a jolting force come through the water, and then a rumbling roar as the TNAZ and the limpet went off in a thundering explosion. The two SEALs gave each other a thumbs-up.

“There is one puppy that’s going to have to limp into port close by for some repairs,” Howard said. “Before the Coast Guard is done with the operators, they will wish they had never tried this little trick.” They gave each other another thumbs-up as they watched the freighter list to port and the stern drop five feet deeper into the water. It wasn’t enough to sink her, but it would flood one or two of her watertight compartments and get her moving into port.

Murdock left the two small boats to the other Coast Guard cutter, and sent his cutter back near the tower where the bunker lay below. He still had five limpets. Three should be enough. He took his remaining five men with him, and dropped over the side with three limpets and their timer detonators attached. They lowered them to the bottom, slowly letting air out of the flotation devices around them.

When the SEALs hit the sandy, rocky bottom, Murdock saw that they were slightly off target. Visibility was fifteen feet as they swam toward the tower and found the sunken bunker. Jaybird and Murdock had been talking on their waterproof radios.

“Jaybird, put the three limpets in a row a foot apart. That way they should blow a huge hole.”

“Roger that,” Jaybird said.

“I’ll set the timers,” Murdock said. “Before I activate them, I want you and the other men halfway to the top. Go on up and keep your heads out of the water. Going to be a tremendous concussion from down here.”

“Copy,” Jaybird said. “We have the three limpets positioned as you suggested.”

Murdock moved in, checked the placement on the almost flat roof. No magnetism needed to hold them on the concrete. “Get out of here,” Murdock said. The five men swam toward the surface. Murdock gave them five minutes, then set the timers for fifteen minutes, and activated them. He made sure they were activated, then swam for the surface, letting the new rebreather adjust the nitrogen level as he went up. He broke the surface and looked around. Jaybird had the other four men about twenty yards away. They all gave him a thumbs-up and they swam for the cutter, which had closed on them.

On board, Murdock checked his countdown watch. “Three more minutes to blast time,” he said.

They counted down the last twenty seconds. When the limpets went off, Murdock felt the concussion through the vessel. The cutter’s skipper lifted his brows. “That should wake up somebody down there.”

The three explosions came so close together, it seemed like one huge one. Murdock and the five other SEALs fell overboard and swam down toward the bunker. Well before they got there they encountered bits of paper and wood that drifted slowly toward the surface.

“My guess is that we punched a hole,” Jaybird said on the new underwater radio. Murdock gave him a thumbs-up and they swam the rest of the way to the bunker. Before they reached it, they met more flotsam heading for the surface. As the water cleared, they saw large bubbles of air rising. Then they were at the bunker.

A four-foot hole that gaped three feet wide showed in the roof of the structure. The six men peered inside, but could see little. Murdock had remembered a flashlight, and pulled it out and shone the beam inside. At first they could see only bubbles and bits of paper. Then a human arm floated upward in a sudden upswelling and vanished over them.

“Spooky,” Jaybird said.

Murdock eased over the ragged edge of the concrete, pushed apart rebars, and lowered himself into the structure. He vanished into the gloom. They waited. He came back with a briefcase that was still fastened shut. Jaybird took it and passed it along to Tim Sadler.

Next Murdock brought up a metal box a foot long and about that wide and two inches thick. Jaybird held on to that one. Then he couldn’t stand it any longer, and edged into the hole and dropped down. He swam to where Murdock had just upended a desk so he could open drawers. Jaybird held the flashlight for him and they looked in all the drawers. Nothing of value. They swam round the twenty-foot-long oval room. Near the back they found two bodies. Neither was marked. They’d either drowned or the concussion of the bombs had killed them, Murdock decided.

He and Jaybird checked the rest of the structure and found three more bodies, but nothing more they could take up. They edged out the hole in the ceiling, and Murdock gave the sign to swim back to the surface.

Back on the cutter, they put the box and the briefcase on the deck in the sun and stared at them.

“Maybe we shouldn’t open them,” Lam said.

“Oh, sure, like they have secrets,” Ching said.

Murdock picked up the briefcase, looked at the clasp, and pushed a wet copper button. The leather hasp flipped back, and he pushed the top of the case open. It was full of water. They poured the water into the scuppers and then Murdock took out a mass of wet paper. “In Korean,” he said. He put the papers back in the briefcase and filled it with seawater from a hose.

“If we let them dry out, they’ll glue themselves together and nobody will be able to get them apart to read. Better this way.” He looked at the metal box. He handed it to Jaybird, who looked it over, then found a button on the bottom. He pressed it, and the top eased upward a half inch.

He handed it back to Murdock. When the commander opened the lid, the SEALs gasped. It was half full of gold coins. Murdock picked up one and looked at it.

“Krugerrands,” he said. “A full ounce of gold, worth whatever the price is for gold per ounce on the open market.”

“Two hundred and fifty-seven dollars last night,” Senior Chief Sadler said. “Hey, I’ve got some investments. I like to keep track of gold.”

Murdock handed the box of coins and the briefcase to Sadler. “Keep tabs on these, Senior Chief. We’ll turn them into Navy Intelligence as soon as we hit our base. Must be about time for us to head back to the home ranch.”

Murdock went into the bridge of the cutter and asked if they could contact the Navy.

“Yes, sir, which part?”

“The commander of the Naval Surface Fleet,” Murdock said. It took two radio calls before the admiral came on the line.

“Admiral Lawsome here.”

“Admiral, this is Lieutenant Commander Murdock in Santa Barbara.”

“Murdock, yes, good of you to call. How goes the operation?”

“Just about wrapped up, Admiral. The tower has been taken down with casualties on both sides. The freighter has suffered an explosion in the stern and will be porting quickly for repairs where it can be inspected. Twelve Korean nationals were captured at sea by a Coast Guard Cutter. The concrete blockhouse near the tower has been penetrated and documents and a box full of gold coins retrieved.”

“Anything else of value in the underwater structure?”

“Not that we could find on our first search. A later search may be needed. We counted five bodies in the flooded structure.”

“Well done, Commander. This should put an end to the North Korean invasion of our soil. You mentioned casualties. One of ours?”

“Yes, sir, a SEAL, KIA. Yeoman Second Class Colt Franklin, sir. I’m putting him in for a decoration.”

“I’ll approve it, Commander. When you retrieve your men you should proceed to the Coast Guard station in Santa Barbara where the same CH-46 is waiting for you. This mission is not covert. You will probably be hounded by the press. Let the Navy public affairs officers take care of the press.”

“Aye, aye, sir.”

“Admiral Lawsome out.”

Murdock asked the cutter’s captain to pick up their men from the tower, then take them back to the dock. “We thank you for the ride, Lieutenant, and for the support fire with those Fifties. They really helped.”

When Murdock got back to the fantail, he found the SEALs flaked out. Howard and Bradford had returned from the freighter.

Ten minutes later they had picked up De Witt and his squad from the tower and gently brought Colt Franklin’s body on board.

“Let’s go home,” Murdock said.

Murdock sat at his desk pounding out his after-action report. It wasn’t 1500 yet. It had been an interesting morning. He’d lost a good man, and he hated that. DeWitt had picked up another wound. Murdock would deal with him later.

He had two calls from Navy divers who had been assigned to go into the blockhouse underwater and retrieve the Korean bodies. The Navy had also picked up the bodies off the tower and turned them over to a United Nations representative in Los Angeles.

Now he had to cope with the tough part, writing a letter to Franklin’s parents in Nebraska. He put it off. DeWitt came in from the medics at Balboa Hospital. The slug had nicked the bone in his upper right leg and he’d been put on light duty for two weeks. Canzoneri’s shoulder was smashed up a bit, but should heal in a month.

“I’m writing that letter of recommendation this afternoon to get you a platoon of your own. I know there’s an opening, and Masciareli might just go for it. Actually I’m sending it with or without your approval.” He studied the SEAL’s face. DeWitt frowned for a moment, then took a deep breath. Murdock thought he saw a small wave of relief break over the lieutenant.

“Yeah, I guess. Okay, do it. But I want something in return. I want to write the letter to Franklin’s family. I knew the guy fairly well.”

“Good, DeWitt. Good. You’ll do a better job at it than I would. No more duty this afternoon. I turned the men loose. Why don’t you get out of here too? We can talk about a replacement man for your squad tomorrow. I’ve alerted the master chief. He has a list of men from the other platoons who want a crack at us. We’ll look them over tomorrow.” He paused and watched DeWitt. The man had lost some of his push, his ready-for-anything attitude. When Franklin got killed right beside him, it must have taken a lot of the gung-ho drive out of the man.

“DeWitt. I’m sorry about Franklin. He was a good man. Why don’t you get that shot up leg home and be sure to take your pain pills. You don’t have to prove anything to anybody. You’ve been there, buddy, and you’ve done that more than ninety-nine percent of anybody in the military. Just relax and come in about noon tomorrow.”

DeWitt looked up, and Murdock had never seen such pain in the man’s eyes. His face sagged and he nodded. “Yeah, Cap, I just might do that. I can write the letter tomorrow.”

Out in the squad room, Mahanani was the last one to leave. He had restocked his medic kit, cleaned the MP-5 three times, and at last closed his locker. Time to go. He had been stalling and he knew it. It was time to get home and call the drug task force and set up a plan with the DEA. Mahanani knew that if anything went wrong in a bust of the druggers, he could very well wind up dead in a basket. He snorted, pushed over the Quarter Deck, and ran for his Buick. It was now or never, and the now might just be deadly and forever.