Silent Vengeance

Chapter 17

Wardroom One was considered to be the "Dirty Shirt" Wardroom, belonging specifically to the air wing. A dress code wasn't enforced. Flight suits, 'dirty' khakis, coveralls were permitted. While the ship was at sea, food was available around the clock.

Lieutenant Gore and Lieutenant(j.g.) Feith, the "Phrog" pilots, invited Grant and Adler to meet them in the wardroom. Standing around a table, close to a bulkhead, the four men looked at the sat images spread out in front of them. But every 45 seconds or so, their conversation was interrupted, as one of the Cats "shot" another jet off the flight deck. Tables, cups, dishes, everything clanged, rattled, or shook with each successive launch.

Grant moved his finger along the previous route they flew. "The LZ was about here, and this was where you extracted us."

"And your new LZ, sir?" Gore inquired.

Grant tapped his finger on the image. "This airstrip."

"Looks easy enough, but you don't think so, do you?"

"I'm more concerned about this village. We don't know where our UFs are hiding. Hate to give them too much warning that we're coming."

"Are you certain they're even in that village?" Feith asked, pointing to the image.

"No, but we're almost certain that's the plane they've been using. The second 'but' is it may not be there."

Gore rubbed the back of his neck. "There sure are a helluva lot of unknowns, sir."

"Tell me about it." Grant looked again at the image. "Maybe our LZ should be here, across from where our extraction point was. The trek through the forest to the airstrip looks to be about a quarter mile or so. That should give you, and us, some extra cover."

"Your decision, sir. We'll take you anywhere you want."

The phone rang. Feith answered, then said, "Wait one." He looked at Grant. "Sir, there's an 'eyes only' message for you."

"Have it delivered here."

Feith nodded, relayed the request, then hung up. "On its way, sir."

"Guess it's our friend," Adler said.

"Hope it's something we can use, Joe."

"He hasn't let us down yet."

A few minutes later a sealed manila envelope was delivered to the wardroom. Grant slid his finger under the flap and took out the paper. "The coordinates for the Bangkok location." He looked at Gore. "We might be 'scratching' that LZ, Lieutenant. This might be our new target. You wanna write these coordinates down?" Gore took out a small notepad and ballpoint pen from a pocket of his flight suit, and started writing as Grant said, "13°54′97″ N, 100°59′87″ E."

"And that's leading us where?" Adler asked, trying to get a better view of the message.

"One of the techs was able to pinpoint those numbers to docks near the mouth of the Chao Phraya River. According to this, it empties into the Bay of Bangkok. Our contact is faxing a new sat image with the exact target."

Grant pushed the paper towards Adler, who examined the message more closely. "They think it might be a barge?"

"We should know more soon enough." Grant turned to Gore. "Lieutenant, I don't think this op will be getting underway until dark. Can't give you a definite time right now. All I can tell you is to stand by. When the fax comes in, I'll discuss our plans with Admiral Torrinson and Captain Conklin, then update you."

"Whenever you're ready, sir. We'll see that the chopper is fueled and 'froggy.' Uh, no pun intended."

Grant smiled, and extended a hand toward Gore, then Feith. "Oh, is there any possibility you can get me a map of that area?"

Gore responded, "We'll see that you get it asap, sir."

The two men started to leave when Grant called, "Lieutenant Gore! Have someone locate Sid Edmunds for me. He's the NIS Agent aboard. We'll wait here for his call."

"Very well, sir." Gore and Feith left.

"What've you got in mind?" Adler asked, handing the paper back to Grant.

"We'll have to look at the new sat image, but there's only two ways for insertion: fast-rope or water. Joe, do me a favor. I'm gonna wait here for that fax. Get with the guys. Have them prep."

"Draegers if it's by water?"

"Have those ready, and snorkels. The map should give us some idea on the distance the chopper can take us into that bay." He noticed Adler eyeing the food, and lightly punched his shoulder. "We'll eat when you come back."

Grant pulled a chair closer, then sat down. He looked over Mullins' notes, but he was anxious for the fax to arrive. He glanced at his submariner, realizing there was plenty of time to prepare for the op, but like Gore said, there were a helluva lot of unknowns. And now the Team was down to six men. That's the way they'd have to finish this op, with six.

Propping his elbows on the table, he rested his forehead against his fists. He thought about his talk with Diaz who decided to move back to New York, and be with his son. While he wouldn't be called on for missions, Grant offered him a place at the training facility, whenever he was ready.

When they got back to Virginia, he and Adler would make a few calls. Three men from the original list said they'd be ready to join. All good men, Grant thought. Maybe it was time to consider expanding the Team. Once the training facility was up and running, somewhere down the road they'd have some "fresh blood" to choose from, adding one or two more squads.

Twenty minutes later, Adler came back carrying a manila envelope. "I met the 'delivery boy' outside."

Grant took the envelope, and removed two papers. "Scott's note. Looks like the 'Cookie Factory' (NSA) has finally tracked that plane's flights. Two refueling's in Brunei, and two in Subic."

Adler pulled out a chair. "Somebody took a round trip vacation."

"Yeah, Joe, plus the agent in Subic managed to locate the owner of the fuel trucks. Guess the Skymaster stuck in his mind. Look at this."

"Tail number 5007!"

"Bingo! But … "

"Why the hell do you always throw in a 'but'?!"

"Because we've gotta hope that sonofabitch broadcasts again." He laid the paper upside down then looked at the sat image with the barge circled, and a black arrow drawn halfway through the circle. "Holy shit! Joe! Look!"

"Not possible!"

"Ohhh, yes it is! The Huey!"

"So they've been using the barge as a helipad. No checking in with a control tower."

"Pretty smart."

"And freakin' shrewd!"

Grant gathered the papers, then shoved his chair back, but Adler grabbed his arm. "No telling when we'll get another chance. Let's eat!"

Just then Gore walked in. "Captain Stevens, here's the map you requested, sir."

"Thanks, Lieutenant." Grant laid it on the table and unfolded it.

"Mr. Edmunds was located in Supply, sir. He should be calling you soon. By the way, radar shows there's a storm rolling in. It'll probably hit us in an hour or so."

"Any estimate how long it'll last?"

"Well, sir, if it's anything like the typical weather we've been experiencing, it'll rain like hell most of the afternoon. I can find out more details, if you'd like."

"Not necessary. We don't have plans to leave anytime soon. Listen, we were going to grab a bite. You're welcome to join us."

"Thanks for the offer, sir, but Rich and I've got some work to do with the storm coming in. Captain's cancelled flight ops, so flight deck crew is gonna be busy with all the 'birds' coming back."

Grant gave a nod. "Very well. Thanks again." He folded the papers, tucked them in his back waistband, then started walking toward the buffet. "Let's eat."

"It's about damn time!" Adler stated, sliding his chair back.

While they ate, Grant and Adler examined map details. "Joe, look at this area," Grant said tapping the map. "It looks to be about two klicks from the docks." While Adler looked closer, Grant picked up the sat image. "Most of the area near the bay appears to be vegetation, but I'm not sure what this is, just inland. Cloud coverage distorted the view."

Adler took the image. "Could be farms or wetlands." He laid the paper down. "Looks similar to the LZ on our Shanghai op."

"Rice paddies. They're rice paddies. It might be better to do a fast-rope there than a helocast into the bay. We'd have a helluva lot more cover, with probably easier access to the docks."

"And we'd be dry," Adler chuckled.

"That too."

"We could have more time to do a recon of that whole area, and the barge."

"That's what I'm thinking, Joe." Grant picked up the sat image showing the Huey. "But we've also gotta consider the 'Phrog' and where the crew can hide while we go 'play.'"

Adler pointed to a spot on the map. "This looks like a good-size island. Ko Sichang. Looks to be about 15–20 miles from the docks."

"We'll have Lieutenant Gore do some research and see if there's a clearing where they can hide."

Adler rocked his chair back. "That's a helluva lot closer than the island off Sweden the pilots used on our last op."

The lounge's wall phone rang, and Grant went to answer.

While waiting for Grant to finish the phone conversation, Adler readjusted the map, then ran a finger along the coastline, figuring distance more accurately.

"Okay, Joe," Grant said, lifting his cap from a chair. "Sid's waiting for me before he interviews a few more men in the mail room. You want to come with me, or start updating the guys? I'm gonna try to meet with the admiral after Sid."

"I'll meet with the guys. We decided fast-rope, right?"

"Affirmative."

"I'll have them organize gear. You join us when you're through." Adler handed him the sat images and map.

"You take the map," Grant said. "The 'floor' is open for discussion."