Silent Vengeance

Chapter 15

A WTD, with a deep sea diving helmet and two crossed bombs stenciled in black, designated the EOD Locker, located in the aft part of the hangar bay, one level below the flight deck. The 10 x 18 compartment had four bunk beds, along with a small 'head' and shower. All the diving gear and 'tools of the trade' were securely locked inside. Gear was methodically arranged inside the compact room, always ready on a moment's notice. Spare parts, assorted safing pins for the ship's ordnance, and various tools were stored in small bins. A row of metal trunks, stacked high, were against one side of the locker. A built-in safe held top secret documentation. Communications gear was arranged on the desk: radio, headphones, satellite uplink transmitter, and walkie-talkies placed in their chargers.

Lieutenant Ormond and Senior Chief Vance stood a few feet away from the steel door, closed, but not completely dogged down. Seeing the SEALs approaching, Ormond stepped forward offering his hand. "Captain Stevens?"

"Good to meet you, Lieutenant. Appreciate your allowing us to enter your 'sanctuary.'"

"Our pleasure, sir," Ormond smiled, as he reached for Adler's hand. "Always willing to help you SEALs."

Grant turned toward Vance. "Senior Chief."

"Sir."

Grant looked toward his men. "These are the other members of the Team."

"We never travel without them!" Adler chuckled.

"Good to meet you all," Ormond said, acknowledging the men with a nod.

"Can I assume it's okay for them to join us inside?" Grant asked.

"Affirmative, sir."

While Vance opened the door, Ormond walked with Grant and Adler. "If scuttlebutt's correct, you're both familiar with the Preston and our locker."

"Joe already told you he did a tour on board," Grant replied. "I, well, I just made a brief visit. Mind if we leave it at that?"

"Understood, sir." Ormond motioned with a hand. "There you go. It's all yours. Petty Officer Styles will be outside if you need anything. The rest of us will be on the flight deck."

A.T. followed Grant and Adler into the locker. The door clanged shut behind them. The men pretty much knew what this room contained. Curiosity wasn't an issue. They were here for one reason.

"Everything's still the same," Adler commented, as he perused the room. He sat on the edge of a bunk, and laid his cap upside down next to him.

Grant dropped a manila envelope on the desk, then slid a chair closer. He removed the sat images from the envelope, and spread them out, ready for a Q&A with Mullins. As he picked up the headphones, he glanced at Adler. "Having another one of your déjàvu moments?"

"Hope not. Last time here was none too pleasant."

"True, but we accomplished a helluva lot using this space, Joe, and pretty much undetected."

"Yeah, but there were plenty of conversations and incidents that … " He waved a hand. "Never mind."

"Aww, c'mon, LT," James chided. "You can tell us."

"Later," Adler answered, with a wave of his hand, then he immediately turned to Novak. "Hey, Mike. Was there anything recognizable about those bastards on the chopper?"

"Mostly saw just the back of their heads, LT, except for the 'Uzi' guy, and I'd probably say he was Asian."

Adler and Grant looked at one another. Maybe they were on the right trail.

Grant and Mullins had been on the call for nearly twenty minutes, with Grant mostly answering Mullins' questions about the Huey's attack. The White House would want details. Finally, Grant got the conversation moving forward. "Okay, Scott, here are a couple of suggestions for CIA and NSA."

"Fire away," Mullins answered, tearing off the top paper of the legal pad.

"They need to specifically listen for communication from that chopper. You've got the timeframe. I take it they haven't found a tail number for the plane."

"No, but they determined it was an O-2 Skymaster."

Grant swiveled the chair around, repeating to A.T, "A Skymaster."

"Vietnam plane," Slade said.

"Scott, that plane was flown in Vietnam. Some of them could've been left in country after we pulled out. Tracing it might be a dead end if it ended up on the black market. A tail number would help, but I don't see anyway in hell to trace it, plus, it could've been changed.

"But that sonofabitch had to have had it refueled. A gas station wasn't anywhere near those shacks, and being an unusual looking aircraft, somebody had to remember it. I'll brief Sid. Maybe his guy in Subic can start some inquiries."

"You don't think there might be more than one, do you?"

Grant glanced at Adler. "One plane, right?" Adler gave a thumb's up.

"Just one, Scott. Transferring cargo might not only take time, but it could draw attention."

"See what you mean. Do you think a sat image could've detected it in Subic?"

"Possible, but it didn't necessarily have to land in that immediate area. Might be a helluva job finding it." Grant glanced at his watch, saying mostly to himself, "The satellite should be making another pass soon."

"Listen, where the hell should I contact you? You said you're in the EOD locker."

"We don't plan on staying here, and EOD isn't always available, so send an 'eyes only' message to the ship's radio room."

"Will do. How long will you be on board?"

"We can't leave until we have some direction."

"Don't forget about those two names," Adler said as he picked up a sat image.

"Oh, right. Scott, we've got a couple of names: Myint, that's M-y-i-n-t, and Hawk. I doubt there'll be anything on the Burmese name, but maybe 'Hawk' was in one of the transmissions. Hate to say it, but that could be a code name for an American."

"Jesus, Grant!"

"It's a real possibility, Scott, considering the cigars and ball cap I … " Silence.

"Grant?"

"Scott, wait one." Grant leaned his head back, and closed his eyes, trying to visualize the ball cap, trying to zero in on words or a word.

Adler and the men watched and waited for Grant to sort through pictures in his mind. Finally they saw the smile. Identification complete.

Grant blurted out, "FUBAR! How many foreigners know that word?"

Mullins scribbled a note, commenting, "Not a helluva lot, I expect. Any possibility the hat was found, or maybe used for a trade?"

"Anything's possible, but I'm betting he's American."

"It's something, anyway."

"Okay, Scott. I know it's gonna take time for the sat images to be examined, so maybe somebody can … "

"Wait!" Adler interrupted, shaking an index finger at Grant. "Okay, I might be really reaching here, but if he is American, and considering drugs … "

"DEA?"

Adler nodded. "Yeah. Why the hell not?!"

"Nice work, 'Sherlock'!" Grant laughed. "Scott, you heard that. The DEA."

"That really might be reaching!"

"Look, we haven't had many, but this could be a real lead. I could ask Sid to make inquiries, but I hate to spook anybody. You'll have faster, better luck on your end anyway. See what you can find."

"I'm … Grant, hold on. Got a call on the 'special' line."

Grant rocked back in the chair. "He's got a call comin' in."

"Hope it's something for us," Adler said.

Several minutes later, Mullins restarted the conversation. "Grant! One of NSA's listening posts intercepted a transmission from Bangkok going to Olongapo. Timeframe was after that chopper attacked."

"You've got my attention."

"The parties were speaking a mix of Tagalog and English."

"Anything of importance?"

"To keep it short and simple … those were the bastards, Grant."

"And you know this because …?!"

"Someone mentioned two dead aboard the chopper."

"Holy shit! It's gotta be the PNA, Scott!"

"Thought that'd get you! Listen, just keep your fingers crossed they'll be able to triangulate that damn location."

"We just need GPS coordinates, Scott. In the meantime, I'll update the admiral."

"Talk at ya!" End of call.

Grant removed his headphones, and laid them on the desk. The men patiently waited. Adler finally got up and stood in front of him. "Well?! Are you gonna keep it to yourself?!"

"The conversation going from Bangkok to Olongapo mentioned two dead on the chopper."

"It was those bastards!" Novak blurted out.

"When do we leave, boss?!" Slade asked.

Grant remained quiet, as Adler looked at him quizzically. "You don't seem too excited. Problem?"

"I'm just fast-forwarding to the op, Joe." He was about to stand, when two of the sat images got his attention. He arranged them side by side. "Why the hell didn't we see this?"

"What are you looking at?" Adler asked, as the men looked over Grant's shoulder.

Grant pointed to one of the images. "We've been fixed on that airfield, but look to the east, by the river."

"Shit! A town!" Slade blurted out.

"Right, Ken," Grant answered. "Suggestions?"

Novak pounded a fist against his palm. "How 'bout we pay it a visit, boss?!"

"You read my mind, Mike, but even if a satellite picks up that plane after the last flyover, it doesn't mean it's still there. We'll have two potential targets. Two countries, Thailand and Burma. Will one be more important than the other? We can't split the Team."

Adler held up a hand. "Do I get a vote?" Grant nodded. "We hit the Bangkok location. Run a G2. Take no prisoners."

"A vengeance mission?"

"Damn straight! Silent and deadly! It's what we do!"

Grant looked at him through narrowed eyes. Adler was usually being facetious with these types of comments, but not this time. As he looked at each of his men, he could see it in their eyes. They were pissed. They wanted revenge for Diaz. They wanted revenge for young men they never knew personally.

Adler shook a finger at Grant. "Listen, we've pretty much pinpointed the PNA as being the bad guys. There's no way in hell those aren't the bastards. Think about this. None of the pills from the shacks indicated they … "

"Were the killers," Grant finished the sentence. "But somehow Bangkok and 'FUBAR' have gotta be connected, Joe."

Grant leaned back and linked his fingers behind his head, staring at Adler, but seeing right through him, as his brain processed the data. "With those shacks destroyed, that sonofabitch probably moved on anyway." Grant rocked the chair back and forth. "Looks like we'll have to depend on locating and identifying that goddamn plane." He snatched the sat copies off the desk, then stood. "C'mon. Let's see if we can borrow a 'Phrog' again."

An EOD petty officer was standing outside the door. Grant stopped. "Petty Officer, tell Lieutenant Ormond we said 'thanks' and we'll contact him later."

"Yes, sir, be happy to." He dogged down the heavy door, glancing at the six men hustling across the deck.