Deathrace (19 page)

“We better rig up something to use for packs. We’ll need to carry food, ammo, and our weapons.”

“Yeah, and don’t forget water. We can’t order shakes from Jack in the Box.”

“Chogie straps,” Douglas said.

“What?”

“Chogie straps. The Koreans used them during the Korean war to carry shit with. My dad told me about them, and I saw pictures. Take a box or a sack full of stuff, use this long loop strap made out of canvas or cloth and loop it around the box, and two loops to put your arms through. Works fine, or at least it did for the guys over there.”

They began sorting through the gear to find something to make the straps out of. Franklin snorted and used his knife to cut two eight-foot-long strips two inches wide from the camouflage canvas.

He tied the ends together.

“Show me,” Franklin said.

“Damned if I know. Let’s figure it out.”

Ten minutes later they figured it, and then concentrated on picking out the gear, food, and water they would need for the hike on to Saddle Mountain.

“How much we taking?” Franklin asked.

“Enough water for three days—no, four days. How long will it take our guys to get in here from Coronado?”

“Three or four days. We better leave a batch of supplies at the end of the road so we can come back and get them if we need to.”

They continued to sort out food and water. There would be plenty for a cache, and to get Nard on to his next dig in his continual search for chromium.

Franklin took the first watch, and Douglas went to sleep. They decided not to trust Nard this late in the game. He could bug out with everything, and leave them dying of thirst in the high desert.

Two hours later, Franklin took his turn sleeping. As soon as the sun went down, and the shadows grew into dusk, they hung out the blanket drags and began driving into the night.

Four hours later, Franklin switched on the car’s headlights.

“Yep, like the man said, this is the end of the line. No way a car or a camel is going to go up that cliff.”

He killed the lights, and they began checking the gear they had laid out.

Franklin explained to the Iranian what they were doing. He nodded.

“Good idea to have water and food here. You might have longer stay, and need to get back out. Should I wait for you for two days before I leave this spot?”

For a moment Franklin was sorry that they hadn’t trusted their guide. He shook his head.

“We’ll have enough supply here to last us even if we had to walk out to Chah Bahar. You take the rest, and get the rig moved away from here. Keep the drags on the rear to wipe
out your tire tracks. Remember, the choppers will be looking for this vehicle. Hope you make a rich strike.”

They left six of the five-gallon cans of water, and half of the freeze-dried food, behind under a small shelf of rock, and covered it all with slabs of stone to keep away any predators. There were various big cats in the mountains, but Douglas wasn’t sure if that was down here or farther up north in the forested areas.

They waved at Nard, and sent him down the canyon and on his way. He said he would travel well out of the danger zone, so there would be no chance the soldiers would destroy his new transport. They also gave him half of the rials they had left, something like one hundred thousand. That figured out to three hundred dollars, but was probably more cash money than Nard had seen in years. The Citroen was probably worth twice that much. Nard was now a rich man by Chah Bahar standards.

They began hiking north. The chogie straps cut into their shoulders, but they simply bent over more and endured. You weren’t really a SEAL if you weren’t in pain somewhere. They had to detour around the shear cliff in front of them, but found a canyon leading up a quarter of a klick to the left.

Douglas took a bearing on a star, and kept it as his guidepost. By the time they had climbed up halfway on the hill in front of them, they could spot the dark blotch of the saddle mountain where it blotted out the stars in silhouette.

“Only five miles forward,” Douglas said. “That doesn’t count another six to ten straight up, and straight down.”

They stopped after an hour for a breather. They had been up and down four smaller hills, and still the saddle mountain seemed as far away as when they started.

“A mountain always looks closer than it really is when you’re sighting across a bunch of other hills and empty space,” Franklin said. “That’s what my Boy Scout scoutmaster always used to tell us.”

“You believed him?”

“I was ten, what did I know? Yeah, I believed him. I still do. We might not get onto that saddle before daylight.”

“Bet you a case of beer we do,” Douglas said.

“You’re on, sucker. I’d like some of that German beer.”

“That’ll be the day. Let’s haul ass.”

19

The dinner party had progressed well. Ed DeWitt had asked Kat to come to his house for dinner with him and his lady friend, Milly.

“Frankly, Kat, she wants to meet you. She’s a little jealous, and wants to be sure you don’t have real claws.”

Kat had understood at once, but said she’d come only if they had Murdock along as a kind of buffer person. It had worked out.

Now they sat around the dinner table scraping up the last of a delicious cherry pie à la mode.

“Cherry pie has been my favorite since I was a tomboy climbing trees in our backyard in the wilds of Virginia,” Kat said.

Milly had taken a liking to this nuclear physicist at once. They had chatted in the kitchen while getting the last of the dinner ready for the table. Milly had seemed to understand at once that this pleasant woman with short brown hair and impressive credentials was no threat to her love for Ed. From there on the friendship grew.

They pushed back from the table and went into the small living room.

“Don’t worry about the dishes,” Milly said. “Our maid will clear, and take care of everything.”

“Oh, yeah, by that she means me,” Ed said. They all laughed.

“Let’s just talk,” Milly said. “We got off to a good start in the kitchen. I understand you showed up a few of our vaunted SEALs on one of the open-ocean swims.”

“The guys aren’t used to competitive swimming,” Kat said. “If it’s just an exercise, I tend to go out a little faster then the rest of the platoon.”

“Yeah,” Murdock said. “Then she stretches her lead in the middle part, and churns home so fast we can’t even see her wake.”

“Only part true,” Kat said, smiling. “When we’re in a combat situation, I’ll keep my stroke exactly on sched. Hey, you’ve drilled that into my brain.”

“You better,” DeWitt said. “Or we’ll let you swim the twenty miles out to the carrier.” They all laughed again.

Milly leaned back and relaxed. It was so clear to her now. Kat was indeed “one of the guys.” She had an extremely difficult job to do once they got to the target, but she had to be able to endure a lot of tough physical activity before they got there. Ed had told her that Kat had to be able to fire her weapon to protect her own life, and the lives of the rest of the platoon. Now Milly totally understood.

“Are we ready to drop in on Iran?” DeWitt asked. He looked at Kat.

“I don’t know about you, but I feel ready. I know the routines. True, I’m not sure how I’ll function when the bad guys start shooting real bullets at me, but, I think I can pass muster. Am I ready to blend in and be an integral, functioning part of the platoon? You’ll have to ask Murdock that.”

They looked at him. He scowled for a moment, then did
the old Jack Benny motion with his arms folded and a curious look on his face. “I’m thinking, I’m thinking.” They broke up.

When the laughter simmered down, he nodded. “Yes, I’d like to have two more weeks for platoon-size drills, but if we get the word to fly out tomorrow, I won’t be the least bit hesitant to ship Kat and her submachine gun right along with us.”

“Oh, thank god, no more sixty-mile hikes,” Kat said. They laughed again.

The phone rang. Milly picked it up. “This is the DeWitt residence.” She listened for a minute, then smiled. “Yes. Yes, just a second.”

She held the phone to Murdock. “Someone wants to talk to you.”

“Our orders from Don Stroh?” DeWitt asked.

Murdock lifted his brows, and then took the phone. “Murdock here.” He listened for a moment, then smiled. “Yes, I think I can arrange that. The Del in ten minutes.”

He handed the phone to Milly.

“Duty calls,” he said, straight-faced. “Did I tell you about my friend in Washington, D.C.?”

“Yes. Ardith, I think her name was,” DeWitt said.

“Like I say, duty calls. I’ll see you sailors in the morning.” He grabbed his hat and headed for the door.

It took Murdock only seven minutes to get to the Del Coronado Hotel and park in the far lot. He wore his off-duty favorites—blue jeans and a Western shirt. As soon as he came into the big Hotel Del lobby, he saw her. For just a moment he paused, watching her, remembering those fine times in Washington, D.C.

She stood in a pose that had to come from years of ballet training: straight and tall, feet placed just so; long, golden hair swept down across her shoulders. She turned and saw him. The best smile he’d ever seen brightened her already
pretty face. High cheekbones accented her face under the mischievous light blue eyes that could always keep him guessing.

She turned and hurried toward him, reminding him of a prima ballerina moving across to stage left for her solo number. Instead of a tutu she wore a frilly white blouse and a brown skirt showing off just enough of her svelte figure to be interesting.

“Did I surprise you?” she asked, as he caught her shoulders for a quick kiss on her ready lips. He pulled away, and smiled.

“You surprised me, and I can’t think of a better one.”

“I’m glad. I hear you might be going on a long trip. Wanted to get here before you left.”

His face clouded for a moment as what she said registered fully. “Damnit, why doesn’t somebody just put a story on the front page of the
Washington Post
?” He relented at once. “Sorry, not more than half a dozen people know about this. Who was your source?”

“Do I have to tell?”

“Absolutely. I might need to kick some tail. It wasn’t my dad, was it?”

“No, nor my father.”

“So, who?”

“Let me tell you later. The elevator is right over here.” “Elevator?”

“Why don’t we stay here? If we go to your place, I’ll have to prove what a lousy cook I am. Here I can fake it.”

Murdock laughed and caught her arm. “Lead on, Mac-Duff.”

She shook her head. “That should be, ‘Lay on, MacDuff.’ “

Murdock guffawed. “Hey, I thought that part came later.” She punched his shoulder, and they walked into the elevator.

In her room, Murdock kicked the door closed, and she moved into his arms for a long kiss. It was a full-body-pressure kind, with them pressed together from hips to lips.

Their mouths opened, and they explored dark passages. At last they broke apart.

“Oh, yes, Blake. Now, that was worth waiting for.”

“I might find some more of those.” He held her at arm’s length. “Really, I need to know who told you.”

“Nobody told me anything, actually. I just happened to be talking with Don Stroh the other day—okay, yesterday—and I told him I was going to Los Angeles on business and wondered if this would be a good time to come down and see you.”

“Stroh—I might have guessed.”

“He only said that now, this week, would be an excellent time. Any later, and I might miss you. So he told me nothing secret, not even when or where you’ll be going. If and when you go.”

She kissed him seriously. “So, Mr. Secret Man, that was all I found out. I made reservations yesterday, and here I am, weary, flight-torn, but able to stand up … for a little while yet.”

“Good, I’ll take care of that problem, too. I’m glad that’s all he told you. This one is really top of the shop. I bet not even dear old Dad finds out about it until we’re done and back home.”

“When?”

“We don’t know. We need some more intel, then make out our flight sched. It won’t be more than a few days, I’ve got a hunch.”

She kissed him again, and they moved to the bed and sat down. The kiss came apart, and he reached for the buttons on her blouse.

“Did I tell you about …” He stopped. “Son of a bitch! I almost did what I accused Don of doing.” He shook his head, and kissed both her cheeks and her nose, then a butterfly kiss on her mouth, barely touching her lips. Her eyes closed, and she sighed, and pulled him down with her on the bed.

“Ardith, you vixen. You should have been a spy during the Cold War. You could have charmed the pants off any diplomat on the other side. You could have seduced the secrets right out of Brezhnev himself.”

She unbuttoned the fasteners on his shirt. “Thank you if that was a compliment. The only one I want to charm, and seduce, is you.” She pulled his shirt out of his pants and reached for his belt. “How am I doing so far?”

An hour later they lay naked side by side on the king-sized bed. Her fingers toyed with the dark hair on his chest.

“Here you thought that three times was too many, and too fast. You sure fooled yourself.”

“And happy to do so.”

She turned on her side and propped up her head with her elbow. He enjoyed the way it made her full breasts move, bounce, and then sway.

“Oh, yes. A woman’s breasts, her most perfect artistic delight.”

“Sexist.”

“Absolutely. I wouldn’t have it any other way.” He shut up then; from her expression he knew she was getting serious.

“Have you thought any more about … about some other kind of work for the Navy?”

“Haven’t had time. We had to integrate three new men into our sixteen-man platoon. Not an easy or quick task. If they aren’t right, or aren’t trained right and blended in, the whole platoon could be in trouble on a live-Fire mission.”

She rolled over, and kissed him deeply, then eased back and lay half on top of him.

“You know how terrible I feel when you’re off on a junket somewhere. Junket. Ha. I wish they all could be nice safe missions to countries where we at least have embassies.”