Deadly Force (19 page)

“Commander, give me five minutes and I'll find them. Call me back.”

“Aye, aye, sir.”

Murdock hung up and had another cup of coffee. He called back after four minutes by his countdown watch.

“Commander, we didn't lose them after all. They were tucked into some transient bunks. Right now they are all on the flight deck waiting for you for their 1300 flight time in a Seahawk.”

“Thanks, sir, I appreciate it.” He went into the corridor, nailed the first enlisted man he saw, and had him act as a guide to take him to the flight deck. There a white shirt took him in tow and walked him down the long deck to the chopper operations center, where he found Third Platoon chomping away on box lunches.

“Saved you one,” Senior Chief Sadler said. “Did you know that you've been lost?”

The Seahawk arrived at the new village before noon, and Mahanani checked out the two wounded. JG Gardner's right arm was responding to the treatment. The carrier doctors had said the bone had not been damaged, and had taken off the splint. It should heal completely in two to three weeks. Until then, no rope-climbing or arm exercises like push-ups or pull-ups. Omar Rafii's shrapnel wound in the leg was not serious. He limped a little, but could keep up on anything but a twenty-mile hike.

Mojombo had been organizing the village. It now had a council and a mayor. They sent a delegation with Mojombo and six soldiers to the next village downstream, Salal, where there were over two thousand people. It was another ten miles downstream where a good-sized river had carved out a small valley used for growing vegetables. Mojombo would be back by nightfall.

“What are we going to do?” Senior Chief Sadler asked.

Murdock motioned to Vinnie Van Dyke. “Go find our guide from last night, Tehabo. Tell him to hang with us from now on.”

“What will we do?” Sadler asked again. “Plan out the next hit on a police station? If we do it, we'll be ready.”

“Next time we need to keep the chopper farther from the city,” JG Gardner said. “Somebody heard it and reported it. The nearest police station was ready. Almost cost us a KIA.”

“Agree,” Murdock said. “When Tehabo gets here we'll
figure out the next two stations to hit. Until then double-check and clean your weapons and work over your gear. After we have some native chow, we'll take a hike. Anybody having trouble with the food? We can always go to MREs.”

“What's not to like?” Jaybird asked. “Lots of vegetables, some chicken, and now and then some delicious dog roast.”

Three of the SEALs pretended to throw up.

The Vice President and Stroh joined the group. “Nothing new from Washington,” the Veep said. “Not a thing the U.S. can do on the demands until the U.N. acts, and they haven't even scheduled an emergency meeting on it. The kidnapping and demands may be put down to public relations and attracting worldwide coverage for Mojombo's cause.”

“What kind of defense has Mojombo put up around here?” Murdock asked.

Stroh shook his head. “Not much. He figures his outposts downriver will be able to give adequate warning. Looks like his plan is to fade into the jungle with his fighting men. He says not even the federal Army would slaughter the villagers.”

“He does have outposts down the river trail then?” Murdock asked.

Tehabo had arrived with Van Dyke, and he spoke up. “Yes, sir, Commander. We have four levels of lookouts down the trail almost to the ten-mile dock.”

“Good, then I don't see any problem doing some conditioning work with my men.”

After noon chow, the SEALs took an hour break. Then Gardner put them into squad formations and took them into the valley created by the tributary to the Amunbo River. The flat land was half a mile wide and laced with small plots filled with growing and harvested crops. Murdock brought up the rear. He wanted to watch Gardner in action with the men. He still had to prove himself to them. Working with them with his wounded arm would be a plus.

It was just after 1500 when Murdock and the men heard the first shots. They came from the village. The SEALs turned and raced down a trail toward the village. Murdock
figured they were two miles away. The shooting continued from Tinglat, then tapered off. Murdock was more worried when the quiet settled in. Lam charged ahead of the pack to report on the situation. A quarter mile from the village, Gardner put the SEALs into the brush and waited for Lam's radio recon report. It came quickly.

“Sir. The village is quiet. There is some wailing, which must mean dead villagers. I see no government troops. Moving in closer. People are coming out of the jungle and out of the huts and houses. Two buildings are burning and there's no way to douse the fire. I'd say the bad guys have left. I don't see any of the Loyalist troops.”

The SEALs charged into the village at a run. The mayor came out with tears streaming down his face.

“They attacked without warning,” he said. “They killed three men in the open, then searched every building. They found the two Americans and tied their hands behind them and hustled them downriver.”

“They took the Vice President and Don Stroh?”

“Yes, both unhurt, but both gone.”

“How big a force?” Gardner asked.

“Not large, maybe thirty.”

“We're going after them,” Murdock said. “If they harm the Vice President, all of us might as well resign from the Navy and start digging ditches. Let's move. Alpha out front. We're on double time down the trail. Lam, sprint out front a quarter and keep your eyes on.”

Within a minute the SEALs had formed up and jogged out of the village and down the jungle trail along the river. It wasn't wide enough for side by side, so they went single file with five yards between them.

Lam moved out a half mile ahead, then slowed. He worked a gentle jog that would eat up six miles an hour. He had every sense on top alert. Every fifty yards he stopped and listened. The fourth time, he heard a rifle or machine-gun bolt slam forward somewhere ahead. He slowed and worked into the jungle out of sight, then moved forward without making a sound. It took him ten minutes to spot the rear guard. Three of them and a machine gun set up to command fifty yards of open trail.

“Skipper, we've got a rear guard. I've got my twenty. Should I wipe them out?”

“That's a go, Lam. One round should do it. How far ahead are you?”

“In front of you probably less than a half mile. I've lost ten minutes moving up, so you're closer now. No sound of the main body.”

“Do it, Lam.”

Lam moved a small branch, leveled in the 20mm sights, and triggered the weapon. From thirty yards the round exploded on target at almost at the same time the report came. Two of the federal soldiers were blown into the air, their bodies laced with shrapnel from the twenty. The third man sat on the bank of the river a moment, then pivoted over and slid into the river without a splash. He sank immediately.

“All clear,” Lam reported. “I'm moving out at a six-mile trot.”

“Don't get too far ahead of us. We're moving faster now. Watch it.”

Lam kept up his pace, his eyes and ears straining to pick up any sound out of the ordinary. He blocked out the calls of native birds, dulled the buzz of insects, and ignored the wind whispering through the trees. His total concentration was downtrail for any foreign sound whatever.

He went another mile before he sensed the danger. He stepped into the brush and behind a large tree just before a machine gun chattered off twelve rounds that slammed into the tree and cut brush and leaves from the vines and brush around him. He dropped to the ground and slithered deeper into the jungle, then worked ahead slowly.

“Found another MG,” Lam said on the Motorola. “This time they saw me first, but I avoided their hot lead. I'm working downstream toward them. Must be camouflaged well and have a good field of fire. Later.”

It took him twenty minutes to probe downstream. Twice he edged up to the trail itself without exposing himself. On the third look he saw the target. Three soldiers with a machine gun poking out over a fallen tree. The men behind it had total cover and concealment from the front. Only the
muzzle of the MG and the gunner's head showed over the tree.

Lam was thirty yards away. He could take out the man behind the MG. Or he could put an airburst into the tree over the federal soldiers' heads. Would an airburst work this close? He wasn't sure. No way he could take down all three of them silently. He wasn't that much of a knife man.

Lam settled in and aimed at the tree a dozen feet over their heads. He checked his aim again, and fired. As soon as the Bull Pup went off, he rolled away from the edge of the trail and crawled deeper into the woods.

He heard no reaction from the machine gunners. Slowly he worked back to the trail and peered around a large tree trunk. The MG still rested on top of the log. He could see no one behind it. He hurried through the brushy jungle until he could see behind the fallen tree without exposing himself. Without a sound he lifted and looked over some brush at the fallen tree.

Two men lay sprawled on the ground. A third man tried to lift his arm, then let it drop. He shook his head and tried to stand. He fell face-down in the jungle floor. Lam watched him for five minutes. He didn't move. Lam rushed into the spot and checked all three. Dead now. He took the MG and threw it into the brush, then settled down and called Murdock.

“One more MG cleared,” he said. “You all can come on down.”

“Moving,” Murdock said.

“I'm back to checking down front.”

Lam went to the trail and listened. Nothing. He moved slower now, wondering if the federals had continued to hike toward home, or if they had slowed or even set up another ambush. They had to know someone was following them. The MG rounds and then the two 20mm shots would tell them that much. If they were listening.

“If you catch them, Lam, remember we can't fire into the group. We don't know if Stroh and the Vice President are with them or if they took them down by boat. Caution.”

“Roger that.”

He slowed again. Lam was almost at the point where the
trail widened into a wagon-sized road. He paused in the brush checking it out. Something didn't seem right. What was it?

He grinned. Yes. No birds calling or singing, no insects chirping. Too many men around. He could see smoke coming from the next village's cooking fires, but they were a mile away. Where were the soldiers? He sectioned the scene before him, both sides of the trail, all the way to the river, twenty yards. Nobody.

Unless they were as good as the SEALs.

Where were they?

He faded into the jungle more and hit his Motorola. “Cap, some trouble up here. Too damn quiet. They must have laid a grand ambush. Suggestions?”

“Let's ambush the ambush,” Gardner said. “Lam, you hold there and keep the major ambush locale under observation so they don't move it. Alpha can join you. Bravo will go into the green a quarter mile, go around your position, come back to the trail well beyond the federals, and move up until we find them. Then we hit them from both sides at once. Skipper, what do you think?”

“Yes, let's do it. Time element?”

“Cap, you're probably about a half mile behind me on the trail,” said Lam. “This jungle is the pits. It'll take the JG an hour to circle around a quarter and come up behind them. He'll need to be a mile downstream from me. He should come about to the next village, and cut for the trail.”

“Roger that, Lam. We're moving.”

Lam waited.

 

An hour later Lam had faded back twenty yards from his OP and watched for Alpha. Murdock materialized beside him without a sound, and Lam almost shot him.

“Damn, Skipper, you're getting good,” he whispered. “We move twenty straight ahead but keep the men in the woods. The JG has had an hour and twenty by now. He should be in position.”

“He isn't,” the Motorola chirped. “We're at the trail well downstream from them. Ran into some nasty vines. We'll move up cautiously and watch for any sign of the ambush.
They won't be so careful on this side. Give me ten.”

Another wait.

“Yes, now this is better,” Gardner said. “We're in position. I have an officer and two men with their boots off and wading in the edge of the river. Their weapons are on the bank, if you can believe. We're taking them out with silenced shots, then moving up until we can see somebody else.”

“Good, JG.” Murdock said. “When we start our little party, I want everyone on the jungle side of the trail so we don't shoot each other. Copy?”

“Roger that, Commander. Who makes first contact?”

“After your threesome in the river, I'd guess that we should. Maybe bug them out back toward you.”

“Copy that, Commander. We're ready to begin.”

There was dead air. Murdock looked at Lam, who shrugged.

“Sometimes it takes a minute or two.”

They heard nothing from downstream. Then the Motorola came on. “Three down and dead. We're moving up cautiously. Can't be more than a hundred yards from you. Fernandez is on point. We're all on the side of the trail away from the river. Fernandez just froze.”

“Hold there. We'll put some twenties into the area that looks like it could be their positions. Hold. Everyone fire into the area we pinpointed,” Murdock said. “Twenties, I want two airbursts in those trees just over the trail. Do it now.”

Alpha Squad's eight guns spat out lead. The twenties barked and then the airbursts exploded. A few seconds later Murdock saw two cammy-clad soldiers jump away from a tree near the trail and race downstream. They were around a bend in the trail almost at once. Two more federals tried to run for it, but were cut down by MP-5 rounds. Vinnie Van Dyke had set up his machine gun, and was puncturing every hiding spot he could find with the NATO 7.62 rounds.

Murdock heard weapons firing from down the trail. Now he saw that the bend in the trail meant there could be no danger from friendly fire.

“Hold your fire,” he said into the Motorola. The wave of hot led stopped in a second. “Ching, Jaybird, check them out. Be careful.”

The two SEALs slipped from tree to tree until they were behind where the ambush had been staged. Jaybird fired three rounds from an MP-5, and then all was quiet.

“We've got eight down and dirty. No survivors. We take back the weapons?”

“Roger that, Jaybird. Gardner, what happened?”

“We met four trying to escape this way. They are down and out. We're collecting weapons and ammo. Seven on this side. The rest of the force must have left these here as a final blocking force. We found some tire tracks down about a hundred. Looks like they were met by at least three vehicles. The two captives must be in Sierra City by now.”