Payback (22 page)

Mahanani had a long shower and fell into bed. He figured he would never get to sleep. The next thing he knew the alarm went off at 0600.

Blake Murdock had set up a brutal training schedule. His platoon hadn't been really tested for some time and he wanted to see how everyone stood up. There had been no casualties in the Sierras, but that had been a relatively simple operation. If they had a really tough one, he wanted to be sure the men were ready, so they had to stay in shape and razor-sharp all the time.

They started at 0800 with a warm-up, a twelve-mile run from BUD/S to the end of the Coronado Strand and back. Then they checked out two IBSs and launched them through the surf. They got together beyond the breakers and Murdock called to them.

“We're going to shoot the surf, ride in on a breaker the way the surfers do. Just be damn sure you don't let the bow get down and dump us. Surf along the side of the wave if you want to, but then turn and come in with your bow straight for the beach. We'll do this three times. If we dump one of the boats, that squad has to do a makeup. Let's roll.”

They headed the fifteen-foot-long Zodiac craft toward the beach. Jaybird watched the swells forming. He would be their caller. He let two swells surge up and go past them without breaking. The third one was larger, carried more water. He watched it, then shouted.

“Paddle hard, now, go, go. We can catch this baby. Flat out, faster, faster.”

The small rubber boat surged forward with the six SEALs paddling. Then the powerful moon-driven surge of the swell peaked and began to break. The IBS was in exactly the right
spot, and the nose tipped down just a bit as the water broke and the wave curled and hurled the Zodiac down the five-foot mountain of water. Jaybird guided the craft along the side of the wave for twenty feet using his paddle as a rudder. Then, just before the wall of salt water broke over them, Jaybird turned his paddle as a rudder and angled the rushing boat's bow away from the wave. The massive rush of seawater pounded just behind them and smashed them forward toward the beach. The SEALs in Alpha Squad gave a hoorah, and surfed in on the surging wave of foam until the craft bottomed out on the sandy beach. The SEALs sat there slumped over their paddles a moment gathering their strength.

“Oh, yeah, that was a dandy,” Jaybird said.

“Not bad,” Murdock said. “Let's get out and launch and do it again.”

Both squads made it through three runs at the beach without a wipeout, and they carried the 265-pound rubber ducks back to supply. After depositing the boats, the men formed up in squads in a column of ducks.

“Men, it's time to try out that new CQB down by our explosion pit. You've been watching it being built. It's eighty-percent underground, so there can't be the remotest chance that a round could get loose and go into the highway or out to sea. Absolutely fail-safe. Don't prove me wrong. I lobbied long and hard to get this CQB built here for better access, rather than driving all the way to Nyland. Weapons in hand, normal ammo load, let's chogie. Senior Chief, show us how and lead us out at six minutes to the mile. Let's move.”

When they had come out of the water, Murdock had taken a new waterproof pouch off his combat harness and opened it. Inside lay a cell phone. He punched up the master chief's number and let it ring.

“Good morning, this is Navy SEALs Central, how may I help you?”

“Damn, you're grouchy this morning, Master Chief.”

“Murdock, sir. How did the waterproofing work?”

“Must be okay, we're talking. What I want to know is
what happened to that order for the underwater personal radios that Motorola promised us?”

“Those sonar/radios that work submerged? Yes, we ordered enough for both your squads. Cost us a bundle, something like twenty-five hundred dollars each.”

“If they work they'll be worth it. The demo on them worked fine, but that was two months ago.”

“Takes a while, lad, to get things through the proper channels. This is the Navy, you know.”

“I'm being reminded. Any fallout from the North Korean fiasco?”

“Lots of it. Our United Nations ambassador has demanded a vote of censure and damage to be paid by North Korea. The U.S. has stopped all food and humanitarian shipments to North Korea. Our seventh fleet is heading for waters off North Korea and it is on full wartime alert.”

“About time. They've attacked South Korea without provocation, and now trashed the West Coast in a move to save face. We should cut them off from the rest of the world. Put a tight blockade on all their ports.”

“Now, lad, Commander Murdock, sir. That's being a little easy on them. How about a twenty megaton nuke on Pyongyang?”

“True, they deserve it. They killed five people up there in the Sierras, a big bunch on that airliner, three hundred in San Francisco, and probably dozens more due to the blackout. I don't know what the hell else they have planned.”

“We'll see in due course, sir. You sound short of breath, lad. Any breathing problems?”

“Just when I'm running ten miles an hour through the sand and trying to carry on a conversation. Do a trace on the order. I want to test out those underwater radios as soon as possible.”

“Aye, aye, Commander. Consider them traced.”

“I'm running out of breath. I'm out.”

“Right, and remember, Commander, you're not twenty-two years old anymore.”

Murdock liked the new kill house. It was made of four-by-twelve planks for the walls and the ceiling, with two feet of dirt and sand on top. No round could possibly penetrate
four inches of Douglas fir. It had been dug out so all but the roof was underground. Ramps led to the front and back doors. Inside there were four small rooms, each set up with electronic targets, terrorists, hostages, innocents, and SEALs. The targets popped up electronically from pressure pads on the plank floor. The computer had programmed more than fifty thousand combinations of targets so no run-through was ever like any other.

Murdock took his turn at the close-quarters-battle house with Jaybird. They missed a terr in the second room, and both were shot according to the computer readout. They finished the course, and Jaybird had shot only one hostage. No scores were kept.

Murdock watched the other men go in, and checked them when they came out. The consensus was that the new house was good and would serve them well without the long drive.

“Be good to use this once a week,” Ed DeWitt said. “Keep us sharp.”

Murdock's cell phone sang a small tune. He pulled it from his combat vest and flipped up the cover.

“Murdock.”

“Lad, we're in business again. The Old Man wants to see you pronto. He's sending a Humvee for you and DeWitt. Get your men back to their quarters and have them ready to travel. Not sure how many will be going, but we should be prepared. The Humvee just motored down the highway. He'll cut through the sand and meet you on the high-tide mark.”

“What's up?”

“His Lordship didn't confide in me. You know the routine. It's something that needs to be done quickly, and we get the call. Oh, speaking of calls, there was one from Washington, D.C., but she said she would call you tonight. You probably know who it was.”

“Probably, Master Chief. We'll meet the Humvee on the side of the highway. Be faster that way. Out.”

Murdock yelled at DeWitt and Senior Chief Sadler. He told them what was up. Then he and DeWitt walked through the soft sand up to the fence and through to the state highway that connected Imperial Beach with Coronado. Sadler pulled
the men together and began a quick march back to their quarters.

“What in hell?” DeWitt asked.

“Don't know,” Murdock said. “I've got a hunch we haven't heard the last of the sneaky North Koreans. This could be something more about them.”

 

 

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.