Deadly Force (24 page)

They stopped after a half hour of marching. The trail was too narrow now for the horse cart.

“Mr. Vice President, have you ever ridden a horse?”

“You're kidding. This plow horse can be ridden?”

“We're going to find out. That knee of yours isn't going to hold up for eight or ten more miles. Sandari is getting on the horse's back now to see how he performs. My guess he's as gentle as a puppy.”

He was, Murdock was glad to see. They boosted the Vice President onto the horse, where one of the cart pillows served as a make-do saddle. Then they moved again. Sandari told Murdock it was not more than eight miles to the village. He would be surprised if the federal troops were out this far.

“I'll believe that when we hit the Loyalist outposts,” Lam said.

Ten minutes later, Lam put the platoon down. “Skipper, up here, quickly. I don't know what the hell is going on. Sounds like a bunch is having late chow or early chow. I smell cooking fires and meat and all sorts of food up here. Noise like it's the Fourth of July.”

Murdock, Jaybird, and Gardner hurried up the trail to where Lam lay in the brush at the edge of the path. They all heard the noise.

“How far off our route?” Gardner asked.

“Must be a clearing up there. Maybe fifty yards ahead and off the trail by not more than a dozen yards. No way we can get past them and not be seen.”

“Then let's hold a celebration in their honor,” Murdock said. “We move up as close as we can to get open fields of fire and we test out those new 20mm rounds to see how well they work.”

 

 

Lam came back from his scouting mission. “Oh, yeah, Skipper. They are just starting to chow down. I counted twenty of them and what looks like a field kitchen. I couldn't tell if any of them were officers. We've got some good fields of fire. It's near a small stream that goes toward the river. They're on this side of it in a small field somebody has carved out of the jungle. Those farmers must spend half their time beating back the growth of vines and small trees.”

“Can we get all of our Bull Pups on line?” Gardner asked.

“Plenty of space.”

Murdock left Mahanani with the horse and the Vice President, and took the rest of the men forward. Lam edged into the heavy growth beside the trail and worked across to the other side of the opening that spread out to the left. They would have forty feet of space in the edge of the jungle to set up. It took five minutes to get the fifteen men placed. Then Murdock used his Motorola.

“If you have airburst rounds left, use them. First shots from the twenties, then everyone open up. Twenties go to 5.56 after the first round. No reason to be quiet on this one. Check it out. Twenties we fire in ten seconds.” He waited, then counted down from four. At one the Bull Pups roared and at once the rounds exploded. Two were airbursts, and the others hit the field kitchen and the line of soldiers. More than half went down with the first rounds. Then the rest of the weapons fired, picking off the survivors and those trying to escape. In twenty seconds it was all over. Two men
crawled toward the jungle. They were quickly nailed with two rounds each. All else was quiet.

“Gardner and Rafii, go in and make sure everyone is down,” Murdock said.

The two men sprinted for the death scene. Murdock heard one round fired, then all was quiet.

“Their weapons are the newer AK-74's,” Gardner said. “We better scoop up all of them we can find. I need four more men in here.”

Murdock pointed to four men near him, and they ran into the carnage and retrieved weapons and ammo. Each man brought back four of the big rifles. They spread them out among the men. Then Murdock brought up the horse and they headed up the trail. Lam and Sandari were out ahead a quarter of a mile. Murdock expected no more federals. Those out on patrol must have reported back for a late midnight supper. Or their last supper, however you looked at it.

Mahanani pulled up beside Murdock and fell in step with him. “The Veep is looking better. He was so tired before he could hardly spit. Now he's going to make it okay.”

“Good. We've got maybe two hours left. We should hit some of the Loyalists' outposts before long.”

Jaybird used the Motorola. “Hey, Skipper, we haven't heard or seen anything of Mojombo and his men. Where in hell are they?”

“My guess they swung deeper into the jungle, farther away from the river to get away from any federal troops. He'll probably beat us back to the village.”

 

It was dawn before Murdock and his platoon hiked into Tinglat. Mojombo welcomed them.

“You found them. Great. We came up empty at the station, but we took it down and wasted a lot of their soldiers. They had a bomb they had rigged as a booby trap just outside the station. We watched them setting it up after we got there. It was no problem. We caught the same message you did from the pilot. We found him, and left half of our men there to give him some security for the rest of the night. With daylight there are supposed to be F-18's flying
air cover for him, and three choppers bringing in repair parts and mechanics and twenty-five Marines for a perimeter defense. The pilot had been in touch with the carrier on his radio. He estimated an hour of work before he'd be ready to fly out. He's going back to the carrier, and they'll leave one of the Skyhawks for us to use here. Does Washington, D.C., know about the men being rescued?”

“We just got here. I'll let Stroh do his own reporting to his friends in Washington. As for me and the men and the Vice President, it's sack time.”

Stroh had gone directly to his tent. He took out the SATCOM and adjusted the antenna, then made his call.

“Right, Chief,” he said. “We're both free, out of there, and hale and hearty. Well, the Vice President has a bit of a limp, but outside of that . . .”

“Get him on a chopper and out to the carrier as soon as possible. We've been sweating branding irons back here. When can you get a chopper in?”

“One is supposed to come to replace the one that got shot up after it dropped us off. Maybe a couple of hours.”

“If it doesn't come, you call the carrier and have them get another one in there. That's the carrier captain's primary mission, to rescue the Vice President. He better do it as quickly as possible.”

“Chief, I'd think a call from the CNO would be more productive. He can get the captain on line in minutes.”

“Yes, all right, I'll tell the CNO to do that. Now that the important stuff is out of the way, how are you?”

“Just tired as hell after hiking for about thirty miles. I'm finding my cot and cutting you off and getting some sleep time.”

“Good night, Stroh.”

“Yeah, good night, Chief.”

Stroh went over to the Vice President's tent, and saw the second-highest official in the U.S. government snoring away peacefully. Stroh woke him up.

“Mr. Adams, sorry to wake you, but I just wanted you to know that a helicopter will be coming in soon and you will be put on board for a flight back to the carrier.
President's orders, nothing I can do about it. Are you about ready to head back?”

“Oh, hell, yes. I've seen enough now to really twist some tails when I get back to Washington. That chopper can't get here too soon to suit me. Thanks, Stroh, you've been a real help to me. I won't forget it.”

“Good to be able to help, Mr. Vice President. Now I'm going to find my bunk.”

 

The Skyhawk sliding into the soccer field an hour later awoke Murdock and half the camp. He remembered the edict about getting the Veep out to the carrier. He hoped the Vice President didn't give them a hard time.

Marshall Adams was the first man to the chopper after it landed. He shook hands with the pilot, told him who he was, and the pilot nearly fell down trying to find a good place for the Vice President to sit on the trip. At last he found some packing blankets and made a seat on the floor.

Murdock, Stroh, and Mojombo all stood in the doorway as the pilot radioed the carrier and told them he had his package and was about to take off.

“You're not coming, Mr. Stroh?” Adams asked.

“Not yet. We have a couple more things to take care of here.”

“Good. Try not to get shot.”

“Oh, that reminds me,” Stroh said. “I better have Mahanani take a look at this arm.” He held up his left forearm, which had a bloody bandage around it about halfway up.

“You're shot,” Murdock said. “Why didn't you tell somebody?”

“We had bigger worries about then,” Stroh said. “Besides, it builds up my macho image.”

Murdock grabbed him by his good arm and pulled him away from the chopper as the pilot wound up the engine. “Come on, you desk jockey, you've yet to experience the wonders of field first aid.”

 

By noon that day Mojombo had set up a screen of sentries, guard posts, and clusters of twenty-man emergency forces on all the major trails down five miles below the village.
That still left ten miles on down to the ten-mile boat dock as no-man's-land.

“We're controlling everything north of that line,” Mojombo said when Murdock wandered up to his tent about 1300. “If federals want to come north of that, they have to fight their way in.”

“How's your campaign to enlist the other villages going?” Murdock asked.

“My top lieutenant made calls on three villages yesterday and we have their support. There are about twenty villages up here beyond the city. We want them all. Then we can move downstream.”

An hour later they heard a burst of rifle fire to the south. “About a mile away, maybe less,” Murdock said. Mojombo sent a runner to see what the firefight was about. He came back quickly with a man with his hands tied in front of him. He wore the cammies and the billed cap of a federal soldier.

They hurried the prisoner to the commander's tent, and he stood ramrod straight, and would have saluted except for the tied wrists.

“Sir, I am Second Lieutenant Rozolo with a message for you from Colonel Ronald Amosa.”

Mojombo frowned. “Is that the same Amosa who is commander of a regiment?”

“Yes, sir. The message is not written down. I memorized it on the colonel's orders.”

Before he could go on, there was a disturbance at the side of the soccer field and a man hurried away from a half-dozen soldiers who were heckling him. He looked around, then came directly to Mojombo's tent.

He braced at attention and saluted. “Sir, I am Captain Markala, of the Second Regiment of federal troops commanded by Colonel Amosa. I'm glad that Lieutenant Rozolo got through. The colonel sent two of us so one for sure would survive. The colonel has a proposition for you. Can we speak privately?”

Murdock and Stroh excused themselves and walked away toward the soccer field. A dozen kids were hard at a game.

“The enemy has a proposition?” Stroh asked.

“It wasn't from some general, from a colonel who commands a regiment.” Murdock nodded. “That could be good news.”

“Like a defection?” Stroh asked. “How many men in a regiment?”

“Depends on the army. Usually from one to four thousand.”

“Well, now, that would change the odds all over the map,” Stroh said.

“Right now it's speculation.”

“Oh, sure. The colonel sends out a captain in civilian clothes to move north, and he sends a lieutenant to infiltrate, both trying to get to Mojombo. Both with a proposition. That's a deal, that's a defection of a thousand men to Mojombo's side of the war.”

“Let's hope so,” Murdock said. “This tropical paradise, with all the snakes and bugs and flies, is starting to get me down.”

The three men conferred in Mojombo's closed tent for an hour. Then the captain went to a tent at the edge of the camp, and came back dressed in cammies with captain's bars on his shoulders and a billed cap.

A runner found Murdock and Stroh in their tents and told them they were wanted at the leader's tent.

Mojombo grinned when they came in. He introduced them to the captain and lieutenant, then had them sit down.

“Captain Markala brings us good news. Colonel Amosa is ready to defect to our side and bring his one thousand soldiers with him. All he asks is that he can retain his rank, lead his troops, and have the chance to head the new Army of Sierra Bijimi after our revolution is won. All of these conditions are acceptable to me. The captain and the lieutenant will be moving back south as soon as we feed them and form up a security patrol to go with them as far as the ten-mile bridge.”

“How soon will the defection take place?” Stroh asked.

“Within two days the colonel will head a task force that will bring his regiment to the ten-mile dock, supposedly to establish a line there and sweep north eliminating all of our
Loyalist opposition,” he said. “He'll bring his own transportation, his supplies, field kitchens, a medic aid station, and quantities of arms and food to last his troops for two weeks.

“Only instead of sweeping north, he will establish an iron line across the area and begin to move south, dislodging any federal troops he finds and winning over the civilians to our Loyalist cause.”

“Congratulations,” Stroh said. “Are there any more units like his that might defect?”

“He thinks there is one. If he can bring that regiment with him, that would cut the federal troops in half.”

“What can we do to help?” Murdock asked. “We're here. We might as well be earning our keep.”

Stroh lifted his brows at that, but said nothing.

“The colonel suggested two strikes that we might consider just after his defection is made known. One would be to shut down the electrical power to the city. We get all of our electrical power from an international grid. The power is hydroelectric generated by our neighbor. The colonel suggested if we simply unplugged the relay station where the entire power for the nation comes in, it would have a staggering effect. All business would shut down, the government would come to a standstill. Most of the military would be affected.

“If we could keep the power off for twenty-four to forty-eight hours, it would have a telling effect on the civilian population. The colonel figured that we could hold the relay station until the federals launch a good-sized attack against us there. We cut and run and let the federals turn on the lights. By then the damage would have been done to the federal cause.

“The second job would be to lead our unit on a strike at the municipal water plant. We have a filtration plant and a pumping a station that supplies high-quality drinking water to our city. If we shut that down for twenty-four hours, we could cause a big uproar and then turn on the spigots again.”

“Be glad to send our men with yours on both jobs,” Murdock said.

“Good. You, Captain Markala, Lieutenant Rozolo, and I will ride motorcycles down the trail to the ten-mile bridge. We meet Colonel Amosa there at dusk to work out any final arrangements.”

Murdock looked at the federal soldier. “Captain, is this a trap to wipe out me and Mojombo? You realize without him the revolution would sputter and stop.”

The captain nodded. “I understand your concern. This is not a trap. If it were, I'd be dead as well, since the soldiers would attack the four of us. It's no trap. We can ride down within a mile of the bridge, and then leave the bikes and hike through the jungle to the site, if you would be more comfortable with that.”