“Thanks, just checking. Murdock out.”
The next time Murdock looked at his watch it was five minutes to takeoff. He rousted out his men and stuffed them into the bird, and saw the six Lemoore field choppers warming up. He made a quick check with Lieutenant Socha.
“We’ll lift off five minutes after your two sixes leave,” he said. “Give them time to get to the target. By the time we get there it should be lit up out front with lots of racket and firing.”
“What about pickup of my men from the water?” Socha asked.
“Stay cool around the liner. We’ll have the dock-level hatch open so your guys can climb in that way and won’t have to worry about a chopper pickup. Tell your pilot that on your way in. If everything goes right, we can get a chopper liftoff after daylight. First we’ll want to see the ship get under way just far enough so the Eighteens can take care of that frigate. After you do your job, he won’t be able to follow the white ship. But we don’t want him using his big guns either.”
Murdock went back, stepped into the Forty-Six, and watched the other choppers lift off and head west. He touched his stopwatch button. In five minutes they would be on their way.
The two U.S. Navy CH-46 helicopters took off precisely on time, and choppered their way across the five miles to the beach, and then slightly to the north, where they could see the hundreds of lightbulbs outlining the luxury cruise ship.
The SEALs stood in two lines along the sides of the bird. At each door lay a thirty-foot coil of rope, one end fastened to the bar over the side opening. The door snipers watched the fantail of the big luxury liner as they came up from the stern.
In front of the ship they saw flares, heard rapid-fire machine guns, and heard depth charges boom as the six choppers fought a war all their own. The snipers scanned the fantail as the first bird approached. It edged across the stern of the big ship. One sniper saw a gunman alongside a panel and drilled him with three silenced shots. He crumpled and lay still. The big chopper hovered over the fantail fifteen feet off the deck.
“Drop now,” Murdock thundered, and the first two men at each door kicked out the coils of rope and fast-dropped to the deck, then left the rope and scurried to assigned locations facing outward to cover the other men coming down.
In twenty seconds all twenty-four SEALs had hit the deck and run to their assigned positions. Only one more Korean was seen, and he ran for a stairway, but two silenced rounds dropped him before he got up two steps.
All the SEALs had the new Motorolas on. The new radios had the same belt pack and wires up to the ear, but now a new earpiece had a swing-away mike that hovered in front of the mouth or could be rotated up to the forehead or down to the chin.
“Move to assigned areas,” Murdock ordered on the Motorola, and the men charged to ladders and vanished into the big ship. Murdock and three men ran up the metal steps to the next deck, and ran forward around the pool and deck tennis court to the highest section of the ship, where the bridge should be. They hit another set of steps and went up quietly. Then they found a door that was marked in English: “Restricted to Ship Personnel Only.” It had to be the bridge.
Murdock tested the door. Unlocked. He motioned to Jaybird, who was right beside him, to take the left. He’d take the right, the way they had cleared rooms a hundred times. Jaybird jerked the door open and charged in, diving to the left. He came up with his MP-5 aimed at two Koreans who sat at a table eating. A three-round burst of silent slugs drilled into them, putting both down on the floor behind the table. One drew a pistol, and Jaybird sent three rounds into him before he could fire. There was no one else in the room.
Murdock had charged in right behind Jaybird and darted to the only other door in the room straight ahead. He tried the handle. Unlocked. He heard Lam and Ching surge into the room behind him. He motioned Jaybird up beside the next door, and he jerked it open and they charged through. The door opened on a set of ten steps that went up to another door that was marked: “Bridge, No Admittance.” The English wording had to be for the convenience of the mostly English-speaking passengers.
Murdock and Jaybird went up the steps silently and paused at the door. Jaybird tried the knob and found it unlocked. He changed positions with Murdock and jerked the door open, and the pair charged into the room, covering the four men they found on the bridge. Two were tall and brown-haired and wore the all-white uniform of officers of the ship, with mortarboards on their shirt shoulders. The other two were Korean, in jungle-print cammies. One tried to draw a pistol, but Jaybird put one round into his chest and he went down pawing at it and screaming.
One of the ship’s officers kicked the gun out of his hand and put his foot on the smaller man’s throat.
“I should kill you right now, you little bastard,” the officer said. He looked up at Murdock. “Thank God you’re here. They’ve been making our lives a living hell. Where did you come from?”
The second Korean charged Murdock, who shot him three times in the chest, and he sagged to the floor, his face smashing into Murdock’s boots. He was dead before he hit the deck.
“Where is their leader?” Murdock asked.
“Probably sleeping in the captain’s quarters,” the second Dutch officer said. “He made me take him down there just before midnight.”
“We’ll get to him later. Can you men move the ship if you get the engine room and engineering under control?”
“Yes,” the taller man said. “I’m Van Dyke, first officer. We could do it, but it would take a half hour at least, and pulling up the sea anchor would make a lot of noise and the sentries on the frigate would hear. They said if we tried to move, they would shoot us in the waterline with their one-hundred-millimeter guns.”
“Which way is the current running here, to the south?” Murdock asked.
“Yes, and the frigate is anchored just to the north of us but not more than fifty yards away.”
“Could you drop the anchor chain and drift away from them without starting the engines, with no noise whatsoever?”
“Could, but we’d need to power up quickly so we could gain control. Drifting isn’t good for a ship this size.”
“We may need to try it,” Murdock said. “We have men disabling the frigate, but it could still shoot. We don’t want that. If we can get you far enough away from the frigate, we can send in aircraft to sink it before it can fire on you.”
“They have a watch out on the frigate, I’m sure,” Van Dyke said. “If they see us start to move, they’ll alert their commander on board.”
“So we have to gain control of the ship and their captain. We have other men working on capturing the vital centers so we can get your ship back. Where is this Korean captain you said is in command?”
“I can show you,” the shorter Dutchman said. “I’m Larry Verbort. I can take you to the captain’s cabin.” He hesitated. “Would you have another weapon? I was in the Navy for six years. I can handle a pistol.”
Murdock reached to his ankle and took out a.32 revolver. “It has six rounds in the chambers, so be careful. Let’s move. Van Dyke, when we leave, lock the bridge doors. We’ll leave Lam here for protection. Don’t let anybody inside unless Lam’s radio says it’s all right.”
Van Dyke nodded. Murdock, Jaybird, and Ching followed Verbort out a door on the other side of the bridge, and went down eight steps.
“What happened to your captain?” Murdock asked.
“We don’t know. The last we saw of him he was handcuffed with his hands behind him and Captain Kim was leading him away.”
“Did you notice our little demonstration out front of your ship, the planes and choppers?” Murdock asked.
“Yes, most of the Koreans went forward to watch it. They had no idea what has happening.”
They came to a door a short time later and the officer pointed. “The captain’s cabin. It’s three rooms and a bath. Usually the door is locked. I have a key.”
“Knock,” Murdock ordered.
“The D
utch officer rapped on the door five times. There was no response. He looked at Murdock, who nodded, and Verbort knocked again. They waited but no one came.
“Open it,” Murdock said.
Murdock jerked the unlocked door open and went in fast with his MP-5 up and the safety off. No one was in any of the three rooms.
Outside, Murdock used his radio. “Report on engineering and communications. Are they secure?”
“Engineering, Skipper. DeWitt here. We have a small problem. The Koreans saw us coming and have barricaded themselves inside. We’re working on the situation.”
“We need engineering and the sooner the better,” Murdock said.
11
Lieutenant Joe Socha and his six men dropped out both sides of the CH-46 at the same time Murdock’s men roped down to the luxury liner. They fell ten feet into the water in their wet suits and drag bags. All wore Draegr breathing gear, and at once went underwater fifteen feet and swam toward the Korean frigate a hundred yards away. They wanted enough separation from the man-of-war so the lookouts wouldn’t know they were aiming at their ship.
Socha angled the men to the stern of the 334-foot frigate, and missed it by only a dozen feet. He checked carefully and made sure the big ship’s twin screws were still. The craft was sea-anchored.
He motioned the two men who would attach small limpet mines to the two propellers. Four other men floated the larger, heavier limpets to the sides of the stern, where the magnets clamped them to the ship’s hull two feet under the waterline. When all was ready, the men surfaced so close to the frigate that no lookout could see them.
Socha signaled for the men to set the timers for two minutes; then they would swim north ten feet underwater for a minute before they surfaced to avoid the killing concussion that would rip through the water. Socha went with the men to the screws, and saw them set the timers and then dart away, swim fins thrashing the water as they hurried away as fast as they could swim. A minute later, they surfaced and met the other four men. They swam away from the ship as the timer ticked down.
For a moment Socha feared that the timers might not have worked; then he felt a pounding surge of water catch him and drive him forward. Almost at the same time two blasts sounded as the water-level limpets exploded, sending water spraying out a hundred feet and flashing a bright light into the darkness on each side of the big ship. Another underwater blast came, and the SEALs began a surface swim away from the man-of-war south toward the brightly lit luxury liner. Socha figured the Royal Princess was about a hundred yards from the stricken frigate. The SEALs turned and watched the activity on board the Korean Naval vessel. A siren shrilled, and whistles blew, but even as they did, the stern of the big ship began to drop lower in the water. Watertight compartments inside the blasted area would prevent it from sinking, but it would not be moving anywhere unless it was towed.
The seven SEALs from First Platoon of SEAL Team Seven grinned around their face masks and stroked toward the luxury liner. If the side hatch wasn’t open, they would simply turn and swim the three miles to the beach. Socha shrugged as he swam. Three miles in the Pacific Ocean wouldn’t even be a warm-up for his in-condition SEALs.
On board the Royal Princess, Lieutenant Ed DeWitt heard the blasts from the north where the Korean ship was anchored. Socha had done his job. Now DeWitt had to finish his. He peered around the corner of the passageway where the engineering section was located. A Korean guard still stood at the door. De Witt pushed his MP-5 around the corner, aimed carefully on single-shot, and drove a 5.56 slug through the Korean’s skull. The dead sailor slammed to the left away from the door.
“C-5,” DeWitt said. Franklin and Fernandez were close behind him. Both dug into pockets on their combat vests and pulled out quarter-pound sticks of the highly powerful plastic explosive.
“About an inch square on the door lock,” DeWitt said. “Set the timer for ten seconds and get back here.”
Franklin ran ahead with a chunk of C-5, pushing the detonator/timer into the puttylike explosive as he ran. He stopped at the door, ducked down, and moved forward to press the explosive against the door lock near the handle. He set the timer for fifteen seconds, pushed it to the “on” position, and scurried back around the corner. A moment later the blast shattered the silence and pounded into the ears of the SEALs. All had covered their ears with their hands, and they could still hear when the sound jolted down the corridor each way. They charged the door and found it blown inward. Two Koreans lay on the floor holding their heads. One tried to lift a pistol. Fernandez shot him twice with silenced rounds, and the other man saw them and lifted his hands. Franklin quickly bound his wrists and feet with plastic riot cuffs.
“Where’s the operators?” DeWitt asked. They found them in a small adjoining room tied hand and foot. Fernandez cut them loose, and they talked rapidly in Dutch. None of the SEALs could understand them. DeWitt pointed to the equipment, the computers and screens.
“Okay?” he asked.
The most universal word in the world worked.
“Okay,” one said after he checked over the equipment. Fernandez dragged the dead man and the tied-up sailor into the small room where the others had been, and left them. DeWitt used the Motorola.
“DeWitt here. We have engineering. The two operators here say all of the equipment is A-okay.”
“Roger that, DeWitt. Leave one man there and see if you can find out what’s going on in the engine room.”
DeWitt had no idea where it was. He made motions and signs to one of the crew, until the man understood where they wanted to go.
“Okay,” he said, and motioned for them to follow him.
* * *
At the communications center, First Platoon SEALs Parson and Underhill checked out the situation. There were two armed men inside and the door was locked. Parson told Underhill to wait, and he ran back down the corridor until he found a crewman. The Filipino said he was a steward and knew nothing about the communications room.
“Hey, man, I want you to knock on the door and ask these guys if they want any food to eat. Make motions, get them to understand. You speak English. One of them might. Give it a try. You won’t get hurt, we promise. Look, we’re trying to take back your ship and get rid of these murdering bastards.”
The steward had been surprised to see the armed men who were not Korean. Now he thought it over. He shrugged. “Might as well. Got to get them out of there. Let me get a tray with some stuff on it under a napkin. Fool the fuckers.”
He came back a moment later with a tray and walked up to the door. He knocked, then knocked again. The SEALs couldn’t see the Koreans through the glass in the door, but they could see the steward. He motioned to the tray and then made motions as if he was eating. He nodded and started away, then came back. He made more motions to the men inside and then to the tray.
The steward said something the SEALs couldn’t understand, then started away again. The door opened a crack, then more. Parson had been crawling along the side of the corridor out of sight of the Koreans. As soon as the door cracked open, the steward pushed it farther open so he could hand in the tray, Parson came to his feet, jolted forward the last six feet, and sent a dozen rounds into the belly of the Korean reaching for the tray. He went down to the left and gave Parson a clear shot at the second Korean, who had brought up a submachine gun. Parson’s three-round burst hit the hijacker in the throat and drove him backward into a set of monitor screens before he slid to the floor dead on impact.
The steward had turned and raced away as soon as he heard the gunfire. Underhill stormed into the room, saw it was under control, and reached for his Motorola.
“Lieutenant, Underhill in communications. We have captured this section, but haven’t found any civilian operators. Will hold it until we get further orders.”
“Well done, Underhill,” Murdock said. “Lock the door and hold the fort.” Murdock stared around the captain’s cabin. “Where could they have taken your captain?”
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p; “The cap was a coffee nut,” the officer said. “Maybe they went to the kitchen for some late-night latte.”
“Wasn’t Captain Kim upset about the fireworks off his bow?”
“He said he couldn’t figure it out. We had a good view of the whole thing. Looks like it’s about over now.”
“So where is Captain Kim and the rest of his hijackers?”
Two Koreans came around the corner of the companionway and stared in surprise at Murdock. Before they could swing up their submachine guns, Murdock and Jaybird drilled them with six rounds each. They flopped onto the deck. One tried to fire, but Jaybird shot him with three more rounds and he died on the floor.
Verbort stared down at the Koreans.
He shook his head. “You guys don’t fool around, do you? Damn, I have seen four men killed in the past fifteen minutes.”
“Our job,” Murdock said. “Now where could the captain be?”
Verbort nodded. “Oh, yeah, he could be down at the doctor’s office. He was concerned about the wounded. The medical area now looks like a battlefield hospital. Down this way.”
Murdock, Lam, and Ching followed the ship’s officer to an elevator, and down several decks. They got off and Murdock cleared the area, saw no Koreans, and let Verbort leave the car and head down a corridor.
Six people sat in the doctor’s office. Murdock and his men went through a door into a small clinic that was now filled wall to wall with wounded. Twelve victims lay in the beds. Some were sleeping, others crying. One man moaned with every breath he took.
A harried-looking man in a white lab coat came in, stared around, and lifted his brows.
“Dr. Hanson, have you seen Captain Van Derhorn?” Verbort asked.
“Not for an hour. He’s recruiting passengers who are doctors or nurses. So far we have five helping. We could use a dozen more. I’ve taken over the next four storage areas and need more room. If you see him, get him back down here. We’ve had two more pass away. I hate this. I had enough of this in Vietnam.”
Payback sts-17 Page 12
