Call to Duty (46 page)

The surveillance camera that monitored the service gate shot up out of its hidden niche. The camera pivoted from right to left as its telescopic arm reached full extension. Then
a single shot rang out from the shadows and the camera exploded, leaving only the headless stalk of its support arm standing. “Good shooting,” Mackay said, relieved that his sniper had gotten it with the first shot. The last image the man monitoring the camera inside the compound’s command bunker had was of two trucks trying to reach safety when the parked truck exploded as if it had been hit by a mortar round. Mackay, the sniper, and his radio operator pulled back into the shadows, well back from the compound where they could monitor all radio communications and coordinate the teams storming the compound. They would also be the observation post that kept the back door open.

The engine of the stalled truck roared to life and the two trucks raced across the last two hundred meters to reach the gate. Both trucks slammed to a halt and the men piled out, streaming into the compound.

While Fastback penetrated into the northern half of the compound, twelve men from Bigboot ran through the breach they had just blown in the south wall. They went through in groups of four and headed off in different directions, each element to its assigned objective. Two more mortar rounds slammed into the guards’ barracks as two teams reached their positions. They were in time to catch most of the guards running from the barracks. Staccato bursts of submachine-gun fire raked the open quadrangle as they cut into men fleeing the burning structure. “We didn’t get ’em all,” a corporal told his team leader. The leader keyed his radio with a heads-up call.

Bigboot stopped its mortar barrage as its three teams moved into position inside the southern half of the compound, sealing it off from any uninvited visitors and looking for Chiang’s guests. Woodward followed the team called Bigboot One into a guest house and ran into a hail of small arms fire. The first two men in were hit and he flattened himself against the floor, raking the big room and hall with submachine-gun fire. A squat, heavily tattooed figure came out of a bedroom, his hands in the air. “Morihama?” Woodward asked. The man nodded. Woodward stood, snapped his MP5 up, and blew Morihama’s head apart. He jammed in a fresh clip as the team searched the guest house. Two more shots rang out. Then he keyed his radio and told Mackay that
the Japanese delegation was accounted for. When Mackay acknowledged the transmission, he told his team to tend the wounded and withdraw. He checked his watch and slipped into the shadows.

The White House, Washington, D.C.

The Air Force lieutenant colonel coordinating the flow of information into the Situation Room drew Mazie’s attention to the latest message from Hammer flashing on the video screen.

OPERATION JERICHO:
ATTACK ON COMPOUND INITIATED AT 2130 ZULU
.

The words hammered at her as she fought to control her breathing. She looked at the clocks on the wall: 2130 Zulu, Greenwich mean time, was 4:30
P.M.
in Washington, D.C., and 4:30
A.M.
in Burma. Two minutes ago, she thought. Damn that satellite radio! I didn’t need to know this. When her breathing had slowed to a more normal rate, she picked up the secure phone that linked her to Leo Cox. “General Cox,” she said, her voice calm and measured, “the attack on Chiang’s compound started three minutes ago. I thought the President…Yes, sirs…I understand. We can expect him here within twenty minutes.”

“Oh, Pop,” Mazie whispered, “what’s happening to you?” She resolutely fought the tears back.

The Golden Triangle, Burma

The captain leading Fastback was with the first team to reach the villa’s heavy doors. As expected, they were sealed and he pointed at the team’s demo man. The sergeant slapped a C4 ribbon charge around the door, jammed in an Ml detonator with a fifteen-second delay and tugged on the pull ring to fire. The team stepped back and the captain checked the second hand on his watch, satisfied they were still on schedule. He looked up in time to see two of the escaping guards from the mortared barracks charge around the corner of the building. A hail of gunfire from the team cut them down before they realized the team were intruders. A third guard was
far enough behind to avoid the fate of his comrades and skidded into the shadows. He swung his AK-47 around, ejected the old clip, jammed in a fresh clip loaded with dum-dum bullets, and blindly sprayed the area around the corner. The captain took the full force of the burst as the bullets ripped across his stomach, almost cutting him in two.

Kamigami instantly returned fire, the sound of his three rounds blending in with the sharp bark of the AK-47. A scream erupted from the guard as all three rounds struck home. He squeezed off three more rounds to certify the kill as the C4 charge blew the door down. The flash framed a frozen still life as the team hesitated, appalled by the sight of their dead captain doubled back on himself in a grotesque contortion of death. The shock lasted for two seconds, not long by normal human standards but an eternity in the world of special operations. Then Kamigami assumed command. “Move,” he snapped. “Do it.” The first four men barged through the door, moving toward the command bunker. Kamigami led the next three men in and headed for Chiang’s office.

Fastback Three, the team of four men assigned the task of taking the cell block, made it to the door leading into the cell block unopposed. The lead man gingerly tested the door handle and found it unlocked. He nodded at his high man, the shooter who closely followed him, to clear an area by firing over his shoulder. The high man unsnapped a baseball-sized flash-bang grenade from his harness and pulled the pin. The lead threw the door open, the high man tossed the grenade inside, and the door was slammed shut. A bright flash and ear-shattering bang erupted inside the cell block. The lead threw open the door and the high man went in at an oblique angle. The lead followed him but at the opposite angle. They both knew where the other man was and they raked the room with gunfire, clearing it. But they missed.

Only one guard was in the room, lying stunned on the floor. The high man walked over to him and shot him in the head. The next two men were already through the room and into the cell block. “Americans!” the first one shouted when he saw the four cagelike cells. “Dana! Ricky! Drop!”

“Oh my God,” DC whimpered. “We’re alone. We’re alone.”

The second man into the cell block flicked the beam of his flashlight across the cells. Both DC and Ricky were curled up in tight balls on the floor covered with their pallets. They could hear more gunfire as the other teams cleared the compound. The team’s lead man tested the doors. Both were locked. “We’ll have you out in a few moments,” he said. “Hold tight.” DC only nodded but Ricky rolled up tighter as he started to wail and cry. “Damn,” the lead said, testing the cell doors, “we’ll have to blow ’em.”

“No we won’t,” the high man said, throwing him a set of keys. “The guard had them.” The doors were thrown open and DC was helped out, gaining strength as she started to move. But Ricky stayed rolled up in a fetal position.

“Carry him,” the lead ordered. He keyed his radio to talk to Mackay. “Fastback Three has Claridge and Martel,” he radioed. “Ready to move.”

Mackay’s voice was calm and clear. “Bring ’em out. Egress as planned.” Mackay checked his watch. They were ahead of schedule.

The lead again spoke into his radio. “Fastback Three withdrawing as planned. Repeat, withdrawing as planned.” Then the men were moving down the corridor, running for the hole they had blasted in the wall.

The team called Bigboot Three reached their objective, the guest house where the Colombian-Germans had been staying. It had taken a direct hit by a single sixty-millimeter mortar round and the men could hear moaning and cries coming from inside. “Service ’em,” the team leader growled. The men entered the wrecked building.

Sergeant Jim Isahata was leading Fastback Two, the team tasked with finding Heather. They followed their noses into the brightly lighted kitchen. The four men used the center work island as cover as they crossed into the main hall that led into the servants’ quarters. They were looking for the fourth room on their left. A huge, bald-headed man stepped out of a bedroom. The man’s potbelly hung over his loincloth and he glared at them as he swung a long sword. “What the
shit!” Isahata barked as he blocked the cut with his MPS. The sword knocked the submachine gun out of his hands and Isahata fell to the ground as his high man cut the executioner down.

“If you were much slower,” the high man growled, “you’d be in two pieces.” Isahata didn’t contradict him as he inspected his weapon. It had a deep cut just above the trigger guard where he had parried the sword cut. He threw the ruined submachine gun into a corner and drew his Browning automatic.

“In here,” the third man called. He had found Heather Courtland under her bed, still wearing a party dress.

Isahata spoke into his mike. “Fastback Two has Courtland. Coming out.”

The hall leading to Chiang’s office was empty and dark. The three men following Kamigami could not believe how quietly and rapidly the big man could move. He was little more than a fast-moving shadow. When he saw the open door that led into the office, he halted and listened. Nothing. Then he went through the doorway at an oblique angle, ready to fire. But the office was empty. He keyed his radio. “No joy on Chiang,” he reported to Mackay.

The reply was “Search the area. You’ve got seventy-five seconds.” The four men split in two and each pair, started a systematic search in opposite directions. Kamigami heard Isahata’s radio report that they had Heather and were coming out.

The loud and strong pounding of a machine gun echoed through the building. Kamigami calculated that it was one of the 12.7-millimeter DShK heavy machine guns that were reported guarding the corridor to the command bunker from behind heavily armored firing ports. He ignored it. Then a deafening explosion shook the villa. The team covering the entrance to the command bunker had placed a massive C4 charge against a load-bearing wall and blew the roof of the bunker down. The guards manning the machine gun ports were buried under tons of rubble and cement. That problem solved, Kamigami thought as he swept through a third room. His internal clock warned him that he had only seconds left to find Chiang before Mackay ordered a withdrawal.

The radio cracked a sharp command. “Bingo time! Bingo time.” It was Mackay ordering them to withdraw. The clock had run out and now they had to begin the complicated task of rejoining and leaving. The escape route and timing had been as carefully prepared and practiced as the attack and each man knew where he had to be at a specified second and whom he would join up with to egress the compound. Anyone not at the right place at the right time might be shot at by a friendly mistaking him for the enemy. It was the way they deconflicted their fire. Kamigami’s team rejoined as planned and made for the villa’s entrance. The team guarding their escape route passed them through, right behind the team that had blown the ceiling down on the command bunker. Satisfied that everyone who had gone in had come out, they followed Kamigami. The first faint hint of the approaching dawn could be seen to the east. It was definitely time to go.

Bigboot had copied the command “Bingo Time” over their radios and started into their egress drill. As the covering force, they would be the last to pull back from the compound. One of the two-man teams guarding the main road leading to the compound were twenty-two seconds short of abandoning their position when they heard the rumble of a large truck coming toward them. They reported the traffic and waited. With exactly eight seconds to go, they saw the truck. It was moving fast with its headlights out. The driver obviously knew the road and had practiced driving it without lights many times. The two men waited as the truck drove over the antivehicle mine they had planted in the road. The explosion blew the truck over and it burst into fire. Five soldiers staggered out the back of the truck and into team’s field of fire. Short bursts cut them down.

“Where did those fuckers come from?”

“Beats the shit out of me, but there’s another truck coming.” Neither man was too worried and they had planted two more mines farther down the road. They reported in on their radio and withdrew eleven seconds late.

The elements of Fastback came together as they egressed through the service gate. Two men were carrying what was left of their captain wrapped in a poncho. They loaded their
burden into the back of the lead buck, which had now been turned around. Fastback Two came out leading a dazed and obedient Heather. A sergeant told Kamigami that all of Fastback was accounted for. “What about Bigboot?” Kamigami asked.

“One’s unaccounted for,” came the reply. “Captain Woodward’s missing. All the rest are out. Bigboot’s road team destroyed two trucks on the main road moving toward the compound.”

“Probably soldiers who are billeted in the village,” Kamigami said. “Their reaction time is slower than we anticipated.” Then they heard the explosion of another antivehicle mine. Kamigami hesitated.

“Fastback is all accounted for,” the sergeant doing the second head count told him. “It’s time to go.” Kamigami still didn’t move.

Woodward stepped out of the shadows. “Sergeant Major, I believe Chiang is in the bunker. Courtland may know another way in.”

“Sounds fair to me,” Kamigami replied. “Miss Courtland,” he asked the girl, “can you help us?” She only stared at him, not answering. “We want to take Chiang out and make him stand trial,” Kamigami said, his voice low and soothing. A flicker of interest crossed Heather’s face. “But we need to find him first. Is there another way into the bunker?”

“There’s a hidden entrance,” she said. “Go to the pool over there,” she gestured to one comer of the garden. “Behind the waterfall there’s a grotto. Inside, lift the cushions and you’ll see it. But it’s locked from the inside. You can’t open it from the outside.”