Deadly Force (15 page)

 

 

“Yeah, I've got an idea, Lam,” Murdock said. “Get your ass back here pronto and don't make any contact. We go around them or something. Oh, yeah, the radio. Wondered why I've been carrying it.” He took out the ten-inch-long radio, turned it on the way he had been told, and pushed the send button.

“Boatman, Murdock calling.”

“Yes, Murdock. We've been wondering where you are. You're late.”

“Don't go to the same dock you let us off at. Federals have an ambush set up there. Where else can we meet?”

“I was afraid of that. We've used that dock too often. Go about a half mile upstream. No dock, but I can get in to where the water is only about two feet deep. We'll board there. Okay?”

“Sounds good. Give us ten minutes.”

Murdock told the men. Sadler and Gardner had kept their section of the SEALs on the bus.

“We better get back to town,” Sadler said on the Motorola. “You guys get back on your little boat. Let's plan another raid as soon as we can. Best we stay down here and help protect the embassy.”

Murdock agreed, and told Sadler on the radio. The three SEALS and four Loyalists pulled back silently away from the ambush, and then hiked upstream. Gabu knew the spot. “We've used it a couple of times before, but we better check for another ambush.”

Lam did the honors, and reported no enemy in the area.
Ten minutes later the seven raiders were all on board the boat.

“Any casualties?” Murdock asked.

“We didn't take any enemy fire,” Jaybird said.

One of the Loyalists had a sprained ankle, and the others teased him about it.

Gabu sat beside Murdock on the run up the river. “I'd say we did good work tonight. We destroyed General Assaba's entire motor pool and probably ninety percent of his trucks and buses. We ravaged his administration building, the PX, his theater, and most of the officers' living quarters. He's going to be hurting tomorrow morning.”

“Plus he won't have much ammo or bombs or explosives now that those three ammo bunkers are blasted into rubble,” Murdock said. “You're right. We did one hell of a lot of good work tonight.”

President Randolph Edwards studied the blowup map of Sierra Bijimi on the wall in the Situation Room on the first floor of the White House.

“This little pipsqueak of a country is causing us all this pain?” the President asked. “Fewer than four million people in a country twice the size of Delaware, and they are holding us captive? On these demands and the use of the helicopter off the destroyer by the SEALs, I'm open to suggestions.”

The CNO, Admiral Burlington, spoke up first. “Mr. President, the use of the Seahawk helicopter off the destroyer
Benford
is acceptable to the Navy. Especially if it can help rescue the Vice President from that camp and get him on board the destroyer and then the carrier.”

“Isn't that taking the risk of putting us in the middle of what looks like a civil war in an independent nation?” Johnson from State asked.

“We've already got sixteen SEALs there working behind the scenes, and in some combat situations, if I know this particular platoon of SEALs,” Donaldson of the CIA said.
“I'd say get that chopper in there and see what good it can do, and then if it works, fly out the VP.”

“Hell, yes, use the SH-60 in there,” General Lawford, the National Defense Advisor, said. “Be a shame to have one so close and not use it. Keep the other one on the destroyer at least until the carrier arrives on station. Then maybe we should up the ante and use some of our F-18's to do some bombing and strafing of the Sierra Bijimi Army.”

“Now you're getting us into a shooting war without any authorization by Congress,” Sage Billings, the President's Chief of Staff, said. “You want another Vietnam here?”

“Enough,” Edwards said. “Admiral Burlington, give a go to the chopper with guns free under the control of Commander Murdock. Now, what about these demands? Are they as hard to meet as they look?”

Johnson, from State, cleared his throat. “Mr. President, they all are contingent on the big one, that the U.N. go in with troops and take over the country. The U.N. has never done that. It has assisted revolutions in places, and stopped them in others, but I don't recall them ever moving in, in force, and defeating a soverign nation with troops.”

“So where does that leave us?” the President asked. “State?”

“I would suggest a radio transmission to Mojombo Washington explaining our position, that we can do nothing until the U.N. takes over the country. At that time we will be delighted to help organize and run the elections, to help establish a police force, and to rebuild their Army. Until that time, we can do nothing for them.

“Oh, we should make this transmission available to the world press. They have been clamoring for some kind of a reply.”

The rest of the men around the table nodded. “Not much else that we can do,” Donaldson said. The National Defense Advisor gave a curt nod, as did Admiral Burlington.

“All right, gentlemen, looks like this meeting is over. Mr. Johnson, set up a broadcast to Mojombo and let the press in on it. What about that helicopter, the Seahawk?”

The Chief of Naval Operations smiled. “Mr. President, I
used my cell phone and the bird will be on its way within an hour. We have to notify the Loyalists that it's coming and get some directions from them. Consider it done.”

The President watched the men rise and leave. He looked at his Chief of Staff. “Sage, would you stay a moment?”

Sage Billings followed the last man to the door, closed it, and came back and sat across from the President.

“Sage, what's your eval on Adams? What's he really doing down there?”

“Sir, I think he was caught up in a plot by Mojombo Washington to grab worldwide publicity for his cause. That part certainly has worked. The kidnapping and the subsequent stories have been all over the international airwaves and print media for four days now. Beyond that, he may be looking at the next Presidential nomination. You can't run for a third term. I think he is starting his drive for the nomination right now.”

“Do you think that Adams will come out if he gets the chance?”

“No. From what I've heard of him talking on the air, he's dedicated to this young revolutionary, thinks of him as a cross between Thomas Paine and George Washington.”

“I could order Murdock to grab him, put him on that chopper, and take him to the carrier whether he wanted to go or not.”

“You could, and that would destroy a good friendship and make a political enemy for you for the rest of your life.”

“You don't think I should remove him forcibly?”

“Absolutely not. He's enamored with this Mojombo. He thinks he can help him reclaim his nation. Maybe he can. Let's give him a little rope. Let's see if he's the man you want to back for your spot next year, since this is your second term in the White House.”

“A little rope. Yes. He might hang himself, or he might lasso a bunch of black hoodlums down there and restore a small nation to honest and open government.”

“You win in either case. The chopper is a good idea. It and the SEALs could make a huge difference in how many
troops the local counterfeit general has at his command if a showdown comes.”

The morning after the raid on the Army installations in Sierra City, Murdock, Lieutenant Gabu, the Vice President, and Mojombo had a conference. Both the men were delighted with Murdock's report on the mission and the huge amount of destruction the Bull Pups' 20mm rounds had caused.

“The ammo bunkers, too?” Mojombo asked.

Murdock pointed to Gabu, who gave a blow-by-blow description of the destruction of probably ninety percent of the Army's ammunition and ordnance.

“So where does that leave us?” Mojombo asked. “What else can we destroy to bring down President Kolda that won't harm any civilians, soldiers, or the government buildings?”

“Not a whole lot left,” Gabu said. “We can hit the other Army camps around the city. Most are small and some specialized, but not much in size.”

“Let's do it,” Mojombo said. “You can go out tonight on another mission.”

A soldier hurried up to the group and talked quietly to the Vice President.

“Well, it seems that Don Stroh has been calling us on the radio. Let's all go over to the SATCOM and see what he has to say about the raid last night.”

A few moments later they gathered around the radio and the Vice President called Stroh in Sierra City.

“Yes, good to talk to you as well,” said Adams. “How did General Assaba like the bit of action last night at his Army base?”

“He has denounced it as a murderous rampage by an outlaw band that has no conscience and no morals. He claims sixty-four civilians and ten soldiers were killed in the outrage. He says he's determined to track down the culprits and hang them all. After a fair trial, of course.”

“Do most people believe him?” the Vice President asked.

“Almost no one I've talked to. My boys sure did the job with the Bull Pups. Now, we have a small development. The destroyer
Benford
is off the coast. The skipper has received official orders to send one of their Seahawks fully armed, minus the torpedoes, up to your Camp Freedom. They ask for an LZ. I told them the camp is about thirty miles up the Amunbo River and they can't miss it. You can expect the craft to land sometime within the hour.”

“Great news, Mr. Stroh. Tell me, does the chopper have a guns-free order?”

“The bird will be under the command and orders of Commander Murdock. He is free to use it as he sees fit to accomplish our goals in Sierra Bijimi.”

“Exactly what are those goals, Mr. Stroh?”

“To help Mr. Washington unseat the current regime and establish a democratic form of government for the people of the country.”

“Is this still a covert action?”

“It is considered semi-covert. We aren't telling the press about our work, yet we don't have to hide it either.”

“Ask him about key members of the Kolda Administration,” Murdock said. “Could they be considered legitimate targets?”

The Vice President asked Stroh.

“Murdock must have asked that. He knows the U.S. government has a policy against the execution of any person. However, if there is no direct tie with any of our U.S. personnel, I'd think that it might slip under the rug somehow.”

Murdock motioned that he wanted the handset. He hit the talk switch. “Stroh, is this frequency being monitored by Washington, D.C.?”

“I'm sure it is.”

“Let's relieve them of that task. Remember the number of my apartment in Coronado?”

“Yes. I do.”

“Let's go to that frequency now and continue.”

Murdock looked at the dials and reset one. He waited a moment. Then he made a call.

“Murdock calling Big Don.”

“Yes, yes, we've made the switch. Now what can we do?”

“Tell the ambassador we need the names, addresses, and any known habits of the six top officials in Kolda's Administration who are criminals and killers. We'd like all the data you can get on them by noon tomorrow.”

“Yes, we'll get what we can.”

“Then we want the rest of the platoon up here. When the Seahawk gets here, we'll see if we can drop in at your house in the side parking lot. Probably sometime tomorrow. Clear out all cars and the bus.”

“Should I come too?” Stroh asked.

“You'll be more valuable as our eyes and ears down there. I hope they bring the chopper with side-door machine guns all mounted and ready to go.”

“Sounds like you'll be busy. We'll check the tone of the city here and see what the sentiment of the people is. Your hit at the Army last night greatly reduces the Army's ability to fight from the standpoint of both matériel and morale.”

“Good, now good-bye. We have some work to do.”

Murdock hit the off switch on the powerful radio and looked at Washington. “Well, Mojombo, who is the first of Kolda's henchmen you'd like to see in an early grave?”

“General Assaba, no contest.”

“Won't he be on the Army base?”

“Not after last night. We burned down his house as our first order of business. He often stays in the Presidential Palace, a big place with about forty rooms built especially for our first President.”

“How do we get him out in the open?”

“He loves to eat at fancy restaurants, where he always dines on the house with his contingent. He has a big Cadillac he rides in. He almost without fail bets on the revolver-death game.”

“How many people does he travel with?”

“Usually five or six, including three women.”

Murdock frowned for a moment. “Okay, we take along a sniper rifle, a Bull Pup, and the EAR. If we can't get him alone, we hit his car with the EAR. Then when it stops, we
move in, pull Assaba out, and he gets one in the back of the head.”

“If he's in the open and fairly alone, we can take him down with the sniper rifle or the Bull Pup,” Washington said. “We going down tonight?”

“Yes, you, me, and Luke Howard, our squad sniper. Let's use your small boat to get to the fifteen-mile dock. Then we go in the rest of the way by foot. We can pass for federal troops with our cammies. We may have to requisition some of those billed caps they wear.”

“The Russian-roulette gambling club is the place we can count on Assaba going to. He could eat at one of ten or twelve different restaurants.”

“Is there an open area around the club?”

“No, crowded, narrow streets. They'll keep a parking spot open for Assaba. We can get there early and set up.”