Seal Team Seven 7 - Deathrace

by Keith Douglass

  "Thanks, Doc. Anybody else hurting?"

  "Not that I've heard of. Kat is doing great. She's probably in better physical shape than any of us for stamina. Damn, just thinking about my doing a triathlon gives me the hives."

  Murdock went back on the Motorola. "If you haven't eaten your MRE, do it now. I've got first watch. Dig yourself a nice little nest in the leaves and brambles, and watch out for snakes. I'm kidding. Too damn hot out here even for snakes. Watch is for two hours. Washington, you're next. Pick your own victim to follow you."

  They settled down in the brush then. Kat waited until Murdock found his spot, then she moved in close to him.

  "Hope you don't mind if I'm your roommate," she said.

  "Hey, I'm pleased. You're the prettiest SEAL I've ever seen."

  "Not much of a compliment, Skipper."

  They both grinned.

  When they got their resting areas worked out, Murdock waved. "I'm on watch. Be back in two."

  He found a place at the side of the ravine where he could have a fair view of their backtrail. The few clouds that had been moving toward them seemed to stall, then some giant, billowing, mushroom clouds built up, thunderheads, but he heard no more thunder. The storm had been stalled, probably by a high-pressure line along here somewhere.

  He thought of using the mugger again, but what good would it do? He called up Ron Holt to bring the radio. They set it up on a flat place and picked up the SATCOM satellite in orbit 22,300 miles overhead. Murdock thought about his message. Then he typed it in on the keyboard.

  "Stroh. Still 20 miles from wet. More troops moving in. What about alternate pickup by air? Try highest authority. May be a go/no-go option for retrieval. The Expendables."

  He read it over again. Should he leave the tag line? He decided to. It would convey the situation. He let Holt encrypt it, then flash it out in a burst of transmission less than a half a second long.

  "Thanks, Holt. Get some sleep."

  Murdock checked his watch. Nearly 1400. He had another hour of duty. He wasn't hungry. He tapped his canteen. He had emptied the first one, and discarded it. Now his second was almost halfway down. They could use some water.

  A half hour later he heard a plane, but it came nowhere near them, it was far to the south. So they must be looking down there or at least dropping in blocking units. He wondered why they hadn't run into another one. Maybe tonight. Water. The idea crossed his mind. Fresh troops from the air in a blocking position would have plenty of Iranian water. Worth a try. Maybe tonight.

  At 1500 all was quiet. He called Washington softly. The black man came out of the brush, saw Murdock, and moved up. "Good observation spot, L-T. All quiet?"

  "So far. It should be dark in two hours. Roust the camp at that time and we'll figure out what to do."

  "Aye, aye, sir."

  Murdock headed back for his nest. Kat roused and sat up when he arrived.

  "Quiet?"

  "Yeah, makes me wonder where they are. Why don't they have choppers out here scouring the place?"

  "It's a twenty-square-mile puzzle for them. Where do they start? They know we were at point A with those Claymore mines, but what direction did we take after that? My guess is the military has limited resources on-site yet. They do what they can. Much too limited for a full-scale search and destroy."

  "You sound like one of my Annapolis professors."

  "Just a trace of my nerves. I do have them, you know."

  "Hadn't occurred to me."

  "L-T, we've got trouble."

  It was Washington. "Like what, Washington?"

  "I'd say about fifteen troops, coming up our trail from the north. They're maybe half a mile out. Have one scout out front following our trail, rest behind dispersed."

  "Platoon, it's work time," Murdock said sharply on the radio. "Everyone move to the bottom side of the brush, and get yourself a firing position. Break off some growth if you need to. I want Ronson on the machine gun, not the fifty. How many forty-millimeter rounds we have? First Squad, sound off."

  Lampedusa had four rounds. Second Squad had three Colts with four rounds each.

  "Find a spot and be ready when they reach two hundred yards. Fire on my first shot, two forty mike-mikes, then the Colt. The rest of you stand by. We'll let them get as close as we can. I want that scout close enough so we can smell his breath to suck the others in. I'll take the scout, the rest of you the others. Move."

  Kat held her MP-5 and began to work through the brush down the hill. Murdock went behind her. The SEALs lay close together across the twenty-yard mouth of the gully where the last good concealment was.

  Murdock found a spot, and broke off three small branches to give him a field of fire. "Silencers off," he said.

  Then they waited.

  Murdock saw the scout. He moved ahead, knelt, and examined the ground now and then, and moved on forward. He was about seventy-five yards ahead of the main body. Murdock counted sixteen men in the main force, plus one. Seventeen to seventeen.

  They waited some more. Murdock looked over to where Kat had bellied down, resting her submachine gun on a low branch. Three magazines were laid out beside her. She looked at him and he saw one eye twitch. He nodded. She tried to smile.

  Murdock watched the scout then. The crouched figure was ten yards away from the brush where Murdock sighted in on him, and put three 9mm parabellum rounds from the MP-5 in the Iranian's chest. At once the sixteen other weapons fired. Murdock heard both machine guns, the crack of the 40mm grenade launchers and the spurt fire of the HK G11 caseless automatic rifle. He shifted his aim at the troops below. Some of them hadn't even hit the dirt yet. He brought down one of them, then looked for the gun flashes. The SEALs fired for three minutes, and followed the trail of two men who lifted up and zigzagged back the way they had come.

  Murdock hit the mike three times, and the SEALs ceased fire. He looked over at Kat. He hadn't thought about her when the shooting began. There was a line of sweat on her forehead. He caught a tear that had rolled down her cheek. He saw that two of her magazines were empty.

  "Jaybird, Fernandez, go and make sure."

  Fernandez borrowed an MP-5, and he and Jaybird ran down the slight rise to where the Iranians lay. They heard half a dozen shots, then six more.

  "Weapons, ammo, water?" Jaybird asked on the radio.

  "Water," Murdock said. The two men scurried around the bodies, and then ran back to the brush. Each one carried six canteens.

  Jaybird found Murdock. "Could have been a scouting patrol. Not sure. They looked like seasoned men. No kids among them. My guess they weren't paratroopers."

  "Might be a larger force behind them?" Murdock asked.

  "It's an assumption," Jaybird said. "Which means I'd just as soon get the hell out of Dodge City."

  "Yeah, distribute the canteens. Pour and fill. If they can drink it, we can drink it." He touched his radio mike.

  "Platoon, good shooting. We have any casualties?" Nobody said a word. "Good. Two or three got away, so now they'll know for damn sure where we are. It'll be dark in half an hour. We're going to hit the trail again, and head due east. Maybe we can mess up their logistics somehow."

  Murdock looked over at Kat. Her head was down on her arms.

  "Hey Kat, you all right? You hit?"

  He moved her way. She held up her hand. "No, I'm not wounded. I just killed at least one man, and it's going to take me a moment or two to get used to the idea. I've never even killed a mouse before in my whole life. Now, I ... I shot that man."

  "Kat, he was shooting at you. The only reason he came out here was to kill us, to kill you."

  "Yes, I know that." She looked at him then, and wiped away the tears. "Let me live with it for a few minutes." She sat up. "When do we load our empty magazines?"

  Murdock grinned. She was thinking ahead. She'd be all right.

  They left ten minutes later, just after 1600. They walked on rocky ledges whenever they could. They had the last man in the line brush ou
t their tracks with a blanket from one of the dead Iranians. They moved in single file to make detection harder. It was still broad daylight and that bothered them all.

  The total plan was to vanish from the site of the killing field and leave no trail. If they could keep that up for two or three miles due east, they could buy a lot of time before the Iranians found them again.

  Magic had fired his sniper rifle, the HK PSG1. Ching was near him but wasn't certain if he had come out of the hypnotic spell or not. Magic had trained to fire the weapon. He would do so on command in or out of hypnotism. A quarter of a mile into the march, Magic bellowed in pain and called to Ching. Five minutes later as they marched, Ching had put Magic into his hypnotic trance again, and he swung along at a three-miles-an-hour pace.

  In the ten minutes of calm after the firefight, Doc had checked Magic's leg. It had bled a little but not much. Doc was amazed at the guts and stamina Magic was now showing.

  At 1730, Murdock called a halt. It was almost dark. He put their east trek at three miles. He talked with Lam.

  "Should throw them off the trail. Anyway they can't start to track us until daylight. We can be to hell and gone before then."

  "South again. We may hit the wet yet."

  "How far you guess we are from the gulf, L-T?"

  "Seventeen, eighteen miles. But I've got a hunch when we come to within ten miles of it, we'll run into hundreds, maybe thousands, of troops. By now it's a matter of national pride that they nail us. We've just set back their plans for total control of this whole subcontinent by two or three years. They've got to find us, or maybe get thrown out of power."

  Murdock called Ron Holt up. He had the SATCOM set up and turned on by the time Murdock had his message ready. "Stroh. Lull in action. Magic still critical. Need immediate response. What's with the extraction? Murdock."

  They sent the message and waited. Murdock figured he'd give Stroh a half hour to reply. To his surprise, he came back in less than ten minutes.

  The decoded message came over the small screen.

  "Murdock. Top Dog considering. Iran has told the world. They blame everyone. Needed tools ready in Gulf. Would have to be a night action. Contact me in twelve hours. Stroh."

  "So?" Kat asked.

  "The President is still considering lifting us out of here with a Navy chopper supported by Tomcat fighters. It would be at night."

  "Yeah, heavy. The U.S. invading a sovereign nation. Even at night. If one of the birds went down, there would be international shit hitting the fan, right?"

  "True. So we keep moving. Let's saddle up, men. Remember, the only easy day was yesterday."

  Kat shot him a quick glance. "You guys actually say that."

  Murdock waved, and they moved forward due south through the dark Iranian night. There was no valley here. They trailed over a slant of sandy desert mountain, and down the other side to a ravine. It headed south. They took it.

  Twenty minutes later they heard a call from Lam. "Hold," came over the radios. Murdock hurried ahead to where Lam lay on the crest of a ridge.

  "Another blocking group. In a damn fine place. This is a kind of pass with high ridges we can't climb on both sides. We go through here or we backtrack about five miles."

  "Move up," Murdock said on the Motorola.

  Jaybird looked over the ridge at the small encampment of soldiers. "Probably parachute guys," he said. "I'd figure maybe twenty at the most. One big fire, and four cooking fires. They must have arrived late in the day." The ravine they were in was forty yards wide.

  "No question, we take them out," Murdock said. "Even if it gives away our position. Nothing else we can do.

  "Ed, take your squad down the left-hand side. Stop out about seventy-five yards. I'll bring First Squad in on the right at the same distance. We'll get a little cross fire that way. Sooner the better. Ed, give me two clicks when you're in position."

  Jaybird stayed with Magic Brown as they moved down the hundred yards along the gentle downslope toward the camp. Kat walked along beside Murdock. He touched her shoulder.

  "You all right?" he whispered.

  She held up three full magazines and nodded.

  But Kat wasn't sure. She had fired blindly last time, aiming only the first time, and had seen the man she aimed at take three rounds and get smashed to the rear. Could she do it again? Could she aim at a human being and cause his death? She gripped the MP-5, hating it for a minute, but knowing this was why she did all of the training. What if she let an enemy man stay alive long enough to kill Murdock or Jaybird? She had to do it. She had to fire at the men down there. She had to.

  What bothered her, as they moved up on the target, was if she could actually kill another human being ... again.

  31

  Friday, November 4

  0820 hours Nuclear bomb plant Hills north of Chah Bahar, Iran

  General Reza Ruhollah stared at the colonel who had commanded this facility until the heathens attacked it. General Ruhollah was in no mood to tolerate traitors.

  "Colonel, I relieved you of your command here. I restricted you to your quarters. What are you doing in my office?"

  "I must protest, General Ruhollah. My men have been subjected to your illegal orders. My guard troops have been sent into the field without proper rations. You have ordered my subordinates to rebuild the assembly plant, but have given them no resources."

  "Colonel, I'm telling you one more time to keep your mouth shut. Not one more word."

  "I still must protest, General Ruhollah. My men have been slaughtered at the hands of a well-equipped military force. I ask that adequate protection be given-" The Colonel stopped.

  General Ruhollah lifted a German-made machine pistol and fired six rounds into the Colonel's chest. He slammed backward, hit the wall, slid down, and died as he lay on the floor, his eyes still wide in total disbelief.

  Two aides rushed into the room. "Get this trash out of my office and clean up the mess. I have to call for more troops. Quickly now."

  General Ruhollah went back to his desk. He picked up the phone and was soon asking for more reinforcements from Shiraz and Bandar-e Bushehr.

  "You can have two thousand troops here within eight hours," he stormed on the phone. "I don't need authorization from Tehran. I'm ordering you to send those troops to Chah Bahar this morning, and have them here before dark. Get them moving, combat-ready, with three days of ammunition and rations. Move them now."

  He hung up and made another call similar in nature to the Army Commander at Bandar-e 'Abbas, which was much closer. He demanded the troops be on hand by four that afternoon. When he hung up, an aide came in the room.

  "General, there is an aircraft landing at the small field. It may be the Army Supreme Commander. It is the same kind of two-engine turboprop plane he usually uses."

  "Thank you, Major. Meet him, and see that he's brought here at once with all normal courtesy."

  The General sat back and smiled. He would show his one superior in the Iranian Army the damage, his moves so far, and his plans for stopping the attacking force before it could reach the coast.

  He would have nearly a thousand troops on hand before dark. They would be deployed at the end of every road leading into the mountains around Chah Bahar. He would throw in as blocking units all he could find. He would continue to drop in twelve-man paratroop teams to block all normal avenues south. He would use the jets from Bandar-e 'Abbas to search for and harass any movement they heard about.

  The enemy force was still a mystery. It had wiped out all but three men on the first patrol he sent out. Twenty-seven men dead, two of the escapees wounded. It was a potent force he was following. He must do everything he could to Stop it.

  He was sure that General Shahr would agree. The devils must be hunted down, and slaughtered, then their nationality broadcast to the world as invaders and murderers of the lowest order. It had to be a Western power, but which one? Perhaps it was Israel; they were tricky and deadly.

  He heard a car
pull up outside his office and stood, straightened his tie, and brushed off his uniform. He looked at the wall and floor where the Colonel had fallen. All signs of the blood had been cleaned up.

  As the door opened, he stood and snapped a salute.

  "General Shahr, good morning. If I had known you were coming, I would have had a fitting welcome for you."

  General Shahr was short and heavy. He wore five stars on his shoulders, and a scowl on his face.

  "This nuclear plant, this bomb making--why didn't I know anything about it?"

  "My General, I was simply following orders of our honored President and some of his highest advisors. I am only their active tool to get the project completed."

  "And you have failed miserably. Even now I understand you draw in our troops to find the attackers. Why can't our half million troops track down this band of saboteurs you estimated at no more than twenty?"

  "They are professionals, General. Deadly, deceptive, experts at concealment. We will find them. By nightfall we will have them blocked off from the sea. They can't go through Pakistan. We will close the circle and slaughter them to a man."

  "You will have no more part in the battle, Ruhollah."

  He froze in place when he heard his superior disregard his title and use only his name. It was a sign that all was not well.

  "You have deceived your superiors, you have conspired behind my back to seize this power and, with it, control Iran and all of the peninsula, and most of Islam. For that you are a traitor to Iran, and you must pay the price."

  General Shahr took a revolver from his waistband and shot General Ruhollah twice in the chest. Ruhollah slumped to the floor, both hands holding the holes in his chest. He looked up at his commanding officer and started to say something.

  General Shahr shot him in the head, and General Ruhollah slammed to the floor, blood pooling beside his head and running down to the stars of his rank on his shoulder.

  General Shahr nodded, called in his men to remove the body, then settled down to the situation map on the wall, and began making phone calls.