Canzoneri arrived a minute later and moved his flashlight beam along the wire and up to the claymore. The blue mine was about four inches high, eight inches wide, and two inches thick. It had been taped to the rock wall and aimed toward the cave mouth. Inside, it was little more than a slab of C4 explosive behind up to two hundred steel pellets that formed a killing field sixty yards in front of it. Canzoneri was the platoon explosives maven. He checked the mine itself, then adjusted a lever on the back and eased the claymore off the wall. He pointed it away from the entrance and then snipped off the trigger wire. It didn’t explode.
“Not sure if any of these have a delay mechanism on them, but would be a great idea for the future. Then you get it disarmed, which is really a second way to arm it, and in ten or twenty seconds it goes off.” He paused. “Okay, the twenty seconds are up. I’d say we’re home free.” He put the claymore down on the side of the cave with the face of it on the rock.
“I’m moving forward,” Lam said. He continued to scope every foot of the cave floor as he walked. For fifteen feet he found nothing unusual. Then another body. This one was definitely Korean. He’d taken a dozen pieces of shrapnel in his chest. He still cradled a submachine gun. Lam reported it and continued. Ahead twenty more feet, the cave became smaller, but still large enough to drive a car through. It took a turn to the left. Lam went to the left side of the cave wall and edged up to where he could see around it. He shone his light down the cave, and took a burst of three rounds from a submachine gun. They missed his light and his arm. He jerked both back.
“Heard it,” Murdock said on the radio. “Sub gun. Hold there.”
Two minutes later Murdock was beside Lam. “We could use some more twenties, but the brass wants one alive. Who has the EAR? Get your ass up front now.”
Frank Victor came up behind them. “Ho, Cap. The EAR is here.”
Murdock moved back. “Ease the barrel around the wall and send one shot down there. Then after ten seconds give them one more. When you’re ready.”
The first whooshing sound came from the weapon, and Murdock realized there was something of a rear blast of air as well, but not as concentrated as the front one. He counted down the ten seconds with elephant-one, elephant-two. Then Victor fired the second round.
“We three,” Murdock said. “We move down quickly, watching for trip wires. They’re like rattlesnakes, always travel in pairs.”
They worked ahead faster than before. Twenty yards down they found a shooter. He had a sub gun and was prone facing toward them. He was breathing and unconscious. They bound his hands and feet and moved on. Another twenty yards ahead and the size of the cave shrank again, but it was still seven feet high and eight feet wide.
“The damned vehicle could still get through here,” Lam said. “Where the hell is it going?”
Around another small bend in the cave they found three men down and out. All had weapons. It looked like they had been eating a meal. A blown-down mantle gas lantern lay to one side.
“Base camp,” Murdock said. “But where is the car?” They tied up the unconscious North Koreans and continued. They found the car a dozen feet down the cave. Inside were explosives, mines, weapons, and lots of ammunition.
“They came to fight a war,” Murdock said. He checked the arms, and all of them looked shockingly familiar. “This is all U.S.-made weapons and ammo,” he said. “Where did they get it?”
“Not too hard these days with some connections,” Lam said.
“We’ve accounted for six men so far,” Murdock said. “The caller said six or eight. Where are the other two?”
Lam had worked ahead of the car. “Might be a clue up here. We’ve got some dirt and dust on the rocks now. I see two sets of boot prints moving away from us.”
“Let’s go get them,” Murdock said, and the three charged up the cave at a jog, using the lights just enough to stay on track, not worried now about trip wires. The two men ahead were running for their lives.
Around another bend, the tunnel became sharply smaller. It was still high enough to stand in, but now was only six feet wide. The boot prints showed the men were running. Lam stopped and lifted his hand. He licked a finger and held it up.
“Oh, yeah, fresh air coming in from ahead. Have we been going uphill or downhill?”
“I’d say slight uphill,” Victor said. “Got to be an old lava tube or a damn powerful underwater river.”
They ran again. This time, far ahead they could see a faint light. The tunnel took a steep slant upward, and they walked instead of ran. Now there were moist spots on the rocks.
Murdock didn’t know if it was from condensation, or if there had once been a furious river flowing through here. The tunnel kept getting smaller and smaller, and soon they had to bend over to move ahead. But the light was coming closer.
“There’s an opening ahead for damn sure,” Lam said. “From here on we’re going to have to crawl to get to it. Hands and knees should do it.”
Lam led the trio. He moved quickly, and for a moment the light ahead cut off and Victor yelped. Then it came on strong and Lam was gone.
Victor crawled up to the opening and pushed his head out. “Be damned, Skipper. We’re back in the open halfway up the mountain and at the end of a good-sized arroyo.” He pushed out and let Murdock crawl out.
The three stared at the runoff scene. “The water must come down the slope; part of it goes into this hole and down through the tunnel, and the rest of the water goes on down this gully,” Murdock said. “So where are the other two Koreans?”
Lam did a quick scan of the country ahead of them, the mountains. He spent five minutes on it, then came back to one spot a third time.
“There, on the side of the slope maybe a half mile over. See those two figures moving?”
“Oh, yeah,” Murdock said. He lasered the figures and pulled the trigger. Seconds later the SEALs saw the flash, and then the sound came drifting over.
“They still moving?” Murdock asked.
“Not that I can see. But a small tree that was nearby just lost all of its leaves and a lot of branches.” He kept watching. “Not a sign of movement. Either they are good at playing dead, or they got the real roles.”
Murdock used the Motorola. “DeWitt, what’s with you guys?”
The sound came back faint. “Almost out of range. About six miles south of you. Found the car. The men scattered when they heard us coming. My guess is there are just three of them, but could be more. We’re tracking them. One is a KIA, one a POW, and the third one is still running. Jefferson is on him with a Bull Pup, so I’d put a bundle down that Jefferson wins this one.”
“We found the first car. Tell you about it later.” Murdock pushed the mike back up to his floppy hat. “Let’s find the mouth to that cave and see what we can take back for show-and-tell.”
* * *
Six miles south, Jefferson struggled through a sea of huge boulders. They were everywhere, and from house size to basketball size. He moved up the side of one, stared ahead over the devil’s marble yard of huge rocks, and tried to find the running Korean. The man didn’t have a weapon; at least Jefferson didn’t think he did. Jefferson jumped off the rock just as he felt splinters of granite fly as a bullet missed him by a foot. He reconsidered.
This time he moved more cautiously. He had an idea where the Korean was, but getting to him was another problem. If Jefferson could pinpoint him well enough, the laser and an airburst should do the trick. The SEAL found a point where he had cover, and fired six rounds of 5.56 at the area forty yards ahead of where he thought the Korean had picked for his defensive position. A moment later the man fired a round from just to the left of where Jefferson had targeted. Jefferson moved to the 20mm, lasered a spot on the rocks to the left of his former target, and fired. Then he fired a second lasered round.
The sharp report of the airbursts came through the clear air with a deadly crack, and Jefferson watched and listened. He heard a low moaning sound that rose in pit
ch until it was a high keening, and it put Jefferson on his feet running around and over the boulders to the spot where he had fired.
He peered around the last boulder and saw the man lying on his back, one hand over his eyes, the same high-pitched wail coming again and again. There was no weapon in sight.
Jefferson charged the position, and kept the Korean under his gun until he searched him and threw away an ankle hideout revolver. The Korean’s second hand held his chest, where he was vainly trying to hold in his blood. It coursed through his fingers and pooled under him in the rocky ground.
A moment later the Korean tried to sit up. He screamed and fell back to the ground, his head turning slowly to the side so his unseeing dead eyes seemed to stare directly at Jefferson. It took the SEAL a few minutes, but he found the rifle the Korean had used. He put it beside the man, and looked around for three rocks he could lift. He found them and piled them on the nearest large boulder. The three-rock stack would serve as a marker, because he knew he was going to have to lead some officials out here to pick up the body. He took the rifle and made his way back to the out-of-gas car where the rest of Bravo Squad waited.
By the time Jefferson came to the car, the chopper had already landed and they were waiting for him.
“Damn, but you’re getting slower and slower killing these damn Koreans, Jefferson,” Donegan chided.
“Would have been faster but the sonofabitch actually took a shot at me. Slowed me down some.”
“He’s dead?” Fernandez asked.
“Hey, a man don’t give up his rifle when he’s alive and kicking,” Jefferson said.
“Murdock told us to meet him back at the turnoff to the cave,” DeWitt said. “Let’s get loaded up.”
Back by the cave entrance, the two officers conferred.
“What the hell county are we in?” DeWitt asked. “The county coroner is going to be interested in all these dead bodies.”
“The county sheriff too, unless we can shortstop them. With the coast still blacked out and no military around, our best bet is to call Stroh and let him sort it out. Bradford, front and center with the SATCOM.”
“Right there, Skipper.”
It took four tries before they made contact with Don Stroh in his office in Virginia across from Washington, D.C.
“Heard about you boys on an outing,” Stroh said. “What happened?”
“Tracked them down. One may have got away. We have the rest. Five of them are still alive, and six more cashed in. We can’t contact anybody locally to take care of those who perished.”
“Call your CO and have him contact the Riverside County authorities. I’m sure that’s the county you’re in. He should be able to get them by phone or through some emergency ham operators. Best to sit right there until the sheriff gets there. Yeah, I know, a hassle, but the locals have certain rights too.”
“Since when did you get to be such a going-through-channels guy? A change of spots for you, Stroh. Hell, might as well call Masciareli. Take care, Stroh. Out.”
The top frog in San Diego said he’d take care of it, and yes, they should stay put until the sheriff’s chopper arrived. Shouldn’t be long.
By the time the sheriff and three deputies arrived, they had been well briefed by the military that this was a highly classified mission and that it was a matter of national defense. The SEALs could be questioned, but not quoted. The military would arrive as quickly as possible to take charge of the live Koreans for questioning. The dead ones were to be referred to the United Nations.
Sheriff Windy Wheeler stepped out of his chopper two hours after Murdock’s call. He had on khaki pants and shirt and a .45 on his hip. The SEALs had carried the dead out of the cave, and walked out the live ones, then retied their feet.
It was nearly dark before the sheriff’s vans had loaded up the dead and the prisoners and left the area. Sheriff Wheeler shook hands with Murdock and DeWitt and grinned.
“Be damned. You got the bastards that helped turn the coast into a black hole. I don’t know what kind of a report I’ll make, but you gentlemen won’t ever be mentioned. We’ll send out a search party tomorrow to scour that hill you showed me to see if you did nail the other three North Korean bombers up there. You say a 20mm rifle? Damn, I thought that was a cannon the jet fighters use.” He shrugged. “Whatever, it worked damn good. I think I can release you boys so you can scoot back to Coronado. Of course, I never have met you or seen you and these deaths are by person or persons unknown. Oh, yeah! You boys have a safe trip now.”
* * *
It was a quick flight back to Coronado. Some of the men slept, some relived the chase of the bombers. Murdock tried to remember when he’d had a good night’s sleep. Maybe tonight, if he could drive through the two traffic lights he had to pass to get to his condo. He hoped traffic tie-ups were smoothed out by now. Sleep, yeah, maybe tonight.
14
Casa Grande Casino
Near San Diego, California
Jack Mahanani parked in the lot outside the luxurious casino and drummed his fingers on the steering wheel. He had remembered correctly. The Indian management at the casino had been worried about rolling blackouts during the electrical energy shortage, so they’d bought and installed a large commercial turbine to power their huge generators. They could provide enough electrical power themselves to run the whole casino and the rest of the tribal reservation. He had heard them talking about it several times.
Once the SEALs hit their home base that afternoon, they had cleaned up equipment and weapons and been cut loose for the day. Nothing to do until 0730 the next morning. Mahanani had stewed around in his condo for two hours, cursing the coastwide blackout that still held. His portable radio said the big shots were working on it. Some of Washington state was powered up, and some areas of Los Angeles.
No traffic lights, no house lights. Then he remembered that the casino would be up and running. This might be a good time to take another trip to Tijuana. The electronic stuff at the border would be off. Or would it? No matter. He could chisel another four hundred dollars off his IOU. Yeah, and bet that against ten years in Chino State Prison. At last he talked himself into it, and drove to the casino east of San Diego.
Now he kicked out of the car and locked it. Wouldn’t matter. The Hammer had a key to it, along with the pink slip, the ownership certificate. If they wanted it, they would take it.
He saw the lot had only half as many cars as usual. A lot of people had forgotten that the casino would be running, blackout or no. Mahanani strode toward the big front door, and was halfway to the tellers to buy some chips when Harley pulled up in front of him and held out his hand.
“Hey, buddy, haven’t seen you for a couple of days. Business?”
“Yeah, Harley, I have to work for a living, remember?”
“You sure aren’t a good enough gambler to make a living off us, Mahanani. Doesn’t matter much, because you’re blacklisted now until you work off your IOU and get your Buick back. No more gambling for you.”
“Not even twenty bucks for the slots?”
“Not even that. You want to talk to the Hammer?”
“Will he want me to make a run tonight?”
“No way. With the blackout you could be crashed into, or held up somewhere. Besides, we don’t have a full load ready to go. Tijuana is having some trouble with the cops over there. The damned cops get bought off and then steal half a load and sell it themselves. Nothing crooked-er than a crooked Tijuana cop.”
“So what am I supposed to do? I can’t play and I can’t drive.”
“Suck your thumb or anything else you can reach, buddy. That’s up to you. Just thought I’d save you some embarrassment at the window, that’s all.”
“Thanks a load of shit, Harley. Get out of my face or I might just lose my temper and throw your ass across the room.”
Harley stepped back. Mahanani outweighed the small Indian man almost two to one.
“Don’t get nasty. Nobody made you come he
re and play. Remember that. Now, probably be better if you just headed for the door and drove away.”
“Yeah, a lot better.” Mahanani gave him a scowl and walked toward the door. He was outside the casino and one row from his car when a man came up in front of him and asked about the time. Mahanani looked down at his watch and the big guy slugged him in the gut, doubling him over. A knee pumped upward, met the big Hawaiian’s chin, and dumped all 240 pounds of him on the blacktop. He gagged and turned to get up. Then another man came from behind a car and kicked him in the side just over his kidney. Mahanani shrilled in surprise and pain and rolled to the side away from his attackers.
They were ready. A third man kicked him in the other side and he slid onto his back, one arm over his face. The pain was worse than he had ever known before, even when he was shot in the left arm. He tried to get up. Surprisingly, somebody lifted him from behind so he could sit up. He tried to look around as a jolting fist crashed into his jaw and spun him sideways. Somebody behind held him now in a choke hold around his throat. The fist came again, and then a third time, and Mahanani tried to shake the cobwebs out of his brain, but it wouldn’t clear. The man behind let loose of him, and a fourth blow hit him on the side of the cheek, and he flopped to the parking lot’s freshly striped blacktop. He wanted to pass out, but he couldn’t. The parking lot lights were fuzzy balls.
Somebody dropped beside him and picked up his head. Mahanani didn’t recognize the face that jammed in an inch from his. “Look, Mahanani, I thought we had a deal. You drive for us and be nice to the help. You just keep doing that and we’re all friendly again. You threaten Harley or don’t drive, and we find you and my boys will really put the fear of the tribe into you. You dig, Hawaiian beach bum?”
Mahanani blinked and tried to see who it was. Then he knew. The Hammer. “Yeah, I dig,” he said through cut-up lips and with blood running down his chin.
The Hammer let his head fall the eight inches to where it hit hard on the blacktop, causing some blue stars to go off in Mahanani’s head. The other men turned and walked away.
Payback sts-17 Page 15
