Payback sts-17

by Keith Douglass

  Murdock called in the screening troops and they sat down to eat.

  “Great time for a counterattack,” General Arnold said.

  Murdock sipped his coffee and had another bite of the tuna-fish sandwich. “They are out of the area, I’m sure. Lam will keep us up to date.”

  “What can we do until we hear from your tracker?” Horowitz asked.

  “Not a hell of a lot except wait,” DeWitt said. He looked at Murdock. “Skipper, I checked the North Korean KIAs. No papers, no ID, nothing to indicate who they are or what they are doing.”

  “Figures,” Murdock said, and reached for another sandwich.

  Meanwhile, Lam came to a small stream and studied the obvious boot prints on the near side. All seemed to head directly into the water. But did they just cross or go downstream to confuse a tracker? No, they would go straight across. They would have no idea they would be followed at night. He crossed the stream and picked up the trail. Thirty boots tromping along was not hard to follow even at night. He used one light to save the other batteries.

  The trail had swung downhill, and in the moonlight through gaps in the timber, Lam could see a meadowlike clearing coming up. He stopped and turned off his light and listened.

  Nothing.

  He flipped down the Motorola mike from his floppy hat brim. “Lam to Murdock.”

  “Go.”

  “Figure I’m about three miles from the ranch. Generally to the southwest, heading at a slant downhill. A clearing is coming up, a big one, like a meadow. Can’t see anything yet, or hear anything, but should be there in about ten. I’ll keep you posted.”

  “Copy that.”

  Lam moved forward, keeping the flashlight close to the ground. He watched for broken plants, mashed-down leaf mold, an occasional broken-off branch. By the time the last man had been through a narrow space, an easy-to-follow trail had been gouged out of the woodsy floor.

  The tracker edged up to the fringe of woods around the open space. Yes, a mountain meadow that probably once was a lake. It was depressed in the center and covered ten or twelve square city blocks. Maybe twenty acres. He could see all around the edges of the opening and checked for lights. There were none. He held his breath, closed his eyes, and listened.

  Yes, a muted laugh, a few words, all in some foreign language. They were somewhere close by. Why would they stop here? He checked the meadow again. Yes, it was dry, filled with grass. An ideal landing zone. He tried to sniff the faint breeze that blew toward him. There was no scent of oil or grease or even petroleum fuel. If there was a chopper close by, he couldn’t detect it. Why would they wait if they had a bird here? They wouldn’t. So maybe this was a pickup spot to be used in case of an emergency. They certainly had an emergency.

  He backtracked a hundred yards and checked in with Murdock on the Motorola outlining where he was and what he had found.

  “I haven’t been close to them yet, so I don’t know how many of them, and can’t tell if the President is with them. Want me to move up or wait for backup?”

  “See what else you can find out. Then give us a compass heading so we can come find you. My guess is the quicker we get there the better. They could bug out again.”

  Lam gave them an approximate compass heading and moved back toward the meadow. This time he stayed in the woods and worked his way fifty yards toward the voices before he angled back toward the opening. The wind shifted and he smelled wood smoke. Yes, they had a camp, so they would be there a while. He worked ahead slower, making sure he made no noise whatsoever that could be heard a dozen feet away.

  Ten minutes of snail’s-pace moving later, he came over a slight rise and could see the reflection of firelight on the trees. He judged it to be fifty yards ahead. He closed his eyes again and listened. Yes, more voices, high-pitched, excited. They were celebrating? If so, they were a little premature.

  Lam checked every three steps looking for exterior guards. He was sure they would have some out, maybe three of them. One was all he had to take care of. He moved to a large pine tree and edged his head around it. He figured he was still thirty yards from the camp.

  Movement, just ahead. What? He lifted his NVG and checked. Yes, a man in jungle cammies with a sub gun sitting against a tree ten feet ahead. His chin had lowered to his chest. He could be dozing. Lam worked to his right, moving out of sight of the guard, then forward past him and to the left so he could come up behind the man. It took ten minutes to make the silent trip of forty feet. Then Lam was directly behind the man’s tree. He felt on his waist and pulled from his belt a length of piano wire that had been fitted with padded loops on each end. He held the ends and edged around the tree.

  In one swift move he jumped beside the Korean guard, swung the loop of wire over his head, and jerked back hard with both hands. The surprised guard had time only to gurgle once as the thin wire sliced through his windpipe, then his jugular vein, and then cut through both his carotid arteries supplying blood to his brain. Blood spurted from the ruptured carotids with each beat of the Korean’s heart. The spurts became weaker and weaker, until no blood came out at all. In less than a minute the guard had expired.

  Lam let him fall to the ground, cleaned the garrote on the dead man’s shirt, and put it back around his waist. He knelt and looked at the camp area. He still could see little. But the way should now be open. He worked ahead silently as a fox.

  It took ten minutes to move thirty feet, and then he parted some heavy brush and looked out from ground level. Twenty feet ahead he saw the Koreans’ camp. There were two wall tents twenty feet long in a cleared area. Both had lights on inside. He could hear a muted engine that must be powering a generator.

  The fire he had seen first glowed between the tents. Four men in jungle cammies sat around it eating off metal trays. The fronts of the tents faced each other. One had a door flap open. The other tent’s flap was closed and two armed guards stood in front of it.

  If they had the President, he was in that guarded tent. What else would they guard? Yes, they had kidnapped the President. Was there any way Lam could get him out? The back of the tent stood only ten feet from the brush and tall trees.

  Silently Lam worked backward and away from the camp. He moved fifty yards and then flipped down the swinging microphone and talked on the net.

  “SEALs, I found them. My guess maybe four miles from the ranch house. They are on the edge of a meadow, maybe twenty acres. Somebody there might know where it is. They have a campsite that was built before tonight. Two ten-man tents and a generator for electricity. One of the tents is guarded, so my guess is that the President is inside. I need some backup. Suggest the platoon come on down.”

  “Copy that, Lam,” Murdock said. “We’ll ask the locals if they know where that meadow is and if they can guide us there. Be in touch in five and on our way in ten.”

  “Roger.”

  Lam found a good spot and lay down. He rested his head on his hands and relaxed. He would hear the platoon if it came within two hundred yards of him. Murdock called back on the net that he had found one of the cowboys who knew of the meadow and would lead them to it. Lam rested for half an hour, then moved back along the trail toward the ranch for five hundred yards. Best to catch the troops away from the target and make their plans.

  A half hour later, Lam came upright in a rush. Sounds, muted, the soft noise of someone moving through the woods. He relaxed. The sound came from the trail toward the ranch. He picked out a sturdy pine tree and stood behind it waiting to see if it really was the SEALs.

  Lam watched the men approach. It was Murdock out front. Lam stepped out from the tree, waved, and then pointed his finger at them.

  “Bang, bang, you’re dead,” he said.

  Murdock stutter-stepped and then got his stride.

  “You always surprise me that way, Lam. The cowboy led us to where we could see the meadow and then he went back. It looks like a camp that’s been there for some time?”

  “Right. Small stream for water,
generator, tents, the works. No rancher is going to put a setup like that out in here. The Koreans must have done a lot of planning for this hit.”

  They walked forward. They talked in whispers.

  “Is there any way to get the President out of there before we gun down the place?” Murdock asked.

  “I think so,” Lam said. “The back of the tent comes within ten feet of the brush. I should be able to get to it, slit the tent open, and get inside unseen. Then take care of any interior guard and hustle the President out the back into the brush, and you guys open fire as soon as we clear.”

  Murdock nodded. He passed the sign back down the line of SEALs for total quiet, and they marched on.

  When they came within thirty yards of the tents, they stopped. Murdock moved the men into positions where they had open fields of fire. They were slightly above the level of the tents and had plenty of targets. Murdock had mandated no 20mm’s would be fired. When all the men were in favorable firing spots with cover, Murdock waved Lam forward.

  He moved slowly, working on his belly the last ten yards to the fringe of woods just in back of the tent he figured the President would be in. Lam lay there for five minutes listening to the Koreans, watching for any more guards, checking to see if anyone walked behind the President’s tent. No one did.

  It was time.

  Lam edged out of the brush and took four quick steps to the back of the tent. He had his KA-BAR knife out, pushed the sharp point through the canvas head high, and pulled it slowly down. It made a soft slicing sound, and then he had it open to the bottom.

  Lam pulled the sides of the tent apart and looked inside.

  19

  Lam could see little inside the tent. Only a dim candle burned. A cot to one side held some blankets, but he couldn’t be sure if anyone lay there. Cautiously he pushed the opening wider and stepped through. Two steps brought him to the bed. No one there. He looked around the tent. The rest of it was nearly empty, no cots or other gear. On a small table he saw a large briefcase, and recognized the Presidential seal on the side. He checked it. The lock had been broken and inside were hundreds of sheets of paper and file folders. Must be important.

  He heard voices outside, and stepped quickly to the front of the tent to the side away from where the flap would open. A new voice came in English.

  “Hell of a note when a guy can’t even take a piss by himself. You sure you went two years to UCLA?”

  “Quite certain, Mr. President told them I was a South Korean. Now if you’ll just go back in the tent and have a nap, this night will be over before you know it and we’ll be on our way again. Our transport will be here a half hour after dawn. So be well rested and ready for travel.”

  “By then you’ll be chatting away with your honored ancestors in hell, or wherever you people go.”

  “Wishful thinking, Mr. President. Now inside.”

  The flap opened and a man came through. Lam had never seen the President in person. The man stepped inside, went to the cot, and sat down heavily.

  “Where in hell are the Marines when you need them?” he asked out loud. Lam moved without a sound on the canvas floor to the far side of the President and called out softly.

  “Don’t be alarmed, Mr. President.”

  President Dunnington’s head jerked up and he stared at the man in the shadows of the one candle.

  “What in hell?”

  “Not the Marines, Mr. President,” Lam said softly as he stepped toward the Chief Executive. “Just a few SEALs come to help you out of this mess. Should I carry your briefcase as we go through the back of the tent?”

  The President looked at the long slit in the tent and laughed softly. “Oh, yes, that would be good. You with Murdock?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Damn good. Let’s move.”

  They stepped through the slit in the tent one at a time, and Lam carried the heavy briefcase. The President ran into the woods, and Lam came right behind him. He stopped the President.

  “We have to move slowly and without a sound so they don’t know you’re gone. We need thirty yards to clear before the rest of the platoon opens fire. Straight ahead, Mr. President.”

  It seemed to Lam that it took forever before they were thirty yards away from the tent. He saw Murdock on the ground ready to fire, and waved at him.

  Murdock pulled down the mike. “Nobody is in the tent on the left. Riddle the other one and get anybody who comes out. Open fire.”

  Lam helped the President sit down, then pulled the MP-5 off his back and joined in. The MP-5’s stuttered out three-round bursts. The 5.56 rounds spurted out of the Bull Pups, and the rest of the weapons rained instant death on the North Koreans. The tent on the right ripped into shreds and fell. Men spewed out of it firing to the rear, but were cut down at once. Lam rushed the President behind a big pine tree, then found a pine himself and fired around it. Two men fell into the campfire and didn’t move. A half-dozen tried to run into the brush beyond the small clearing, but were flattened by the withering fire of the automatic rifles and the H & K 21A1 machine gun. When the SEALs saw no one moving, they slowed their firing, and then stopped.

  “Donegan, Bradford, make sure,” Murdock said. The two SEALs lifted from their cover and moved up to the scene slowly, watching for any movement. Bradford swung to the right and fired three rounds at a North Korean who lifted up with his rifle. The man flopped down and stayed.

  Donegan moved closer and then into the clearing. He fired a single shot, and moved on. Bradford fired another single round to put a wounded man out of his misery. SEALs take no prisoners.

  “When you’re sure of every body, count them,” Murdock said.

  Lam went back with the President, who still sat behind the tree. “There were fifteen of them with me,” President Dunnington said. “Two of them spoke good English. They didn’t talk much about why they attacked the ranch. They did say that they would keep me captive until the United States made massive war-crime payments to the North Korean people. They wanted three trillion dollars in trade, goods, credit, and hard cash. Ridiculous. They were the ones who attacked South Korea two years ago, not the other way around.”

  Murdock and DeWitt went to the clearing and looked for any kind of papers or plans. They found a map on one of the bodies, and some papers in Korean on another. The rest of the men had no identification of any kind, not even dog tags. DeWitt found the SATCOM in the riddled tent. It had taken three slugs and was ruined. He slung it over his shoulder. Maybe they could repair it. They never did find the Secret Service radio.

  Murdock went to where he saw Lam, and knelt down in front of the nation’s highest elected official.

  “Mr. President, do you feel like walking back to the ranch house?”

  “Ready right now. You’re Murdock? Lieutenant Commander Murdock of SEAL Team Seven, Third Platoon?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “We’ve talked several times on the phone. Strange that we meet this way. But I’m grateful. How are my people?”

  “My senior chief told me that all of your staff people are fine except for one we can’t find, Maria Alvarez.”

  “I know, I saw that bastard shoot her in the head. I thought he was bluffing. He also killed one of the waitresses. How many North Korean bodies did you count down there? I hope to God that you nailed him.”

  “There were fifteen dead North Koreans, sir. We had them boxed in, in a cross fire. Not much of a chance anyone could get away.”

  “Thank God for that. But it won’t bring back Maria. She was a good one. They also killed Barney Bronson, who owns the ranch. What about General Arnold?”

  “Yes, we found her in the brush. She has on cammies and is packing a rifle. She helped us on the perimeter defense.”

  “Sounds like her.” The President paused. “Well, I’m ready to travel anytime you are. Have you notified my office about this yet?”

  “They know you were attacked. We didn’t tell them that you were captured. Now we don’t ha
ve to. We have a SATCOM that you can use as soon as we get back to the ranch house.”

  “Move us out, Commander.”

  “Yes, sir, Mr. President.”

  They left the camp and the bodies where they lay. Someone would come in the next day or two, bury the bodies, pick up the weapons, and clean up the area so it could revert back to the natural Sierra woodland. In five years no one would be able to find the exact spot where the President had been held captive by a foreign power. It would be better that way.

  The hike back to the ranch house took an hour and a half. Murdock and the President were in front, and the SEAL let the nation’s leader set the pace.

  Back at the ranch house, the President at once called his office on the SATCOM and had a long private talk.

  Murdock got the SEALs collected. They had taken no casualties in the firefight. Lillian Bronson, wife of the murdered owner of the ranch, said that they could sleep in the bunkhouse, off to the left of the main house. It turned out to be a dormitory with thirty beds in two big rooms.

  Murdock used his SATCOM and called the Quarter Deck in Coronado. They had their ears on.

  “Murdock, hoped you would call,” Master Chief Petty Officer MacKenzie said. “How is the mission going?”

  “Wrapped up, Master Chief. You still blacked out there?”

  “On and off, mostly off. Wrapped up? You found the man and he’s safe.”

  “Safe and sound and talking with his office right now. We’ll stay here tonight and do any cleanup work we need to tomorrow. Hold the paperwork for me.”

  “Can do that, Commander. Glad he’s all right. When you move, use that chopper you left at the bridge. He’s still there and getting hungry. The jet is waiting for you at Sacramento. Keep up the good work, Commander.”

  “You too, Master Chief. See you tomorrow.”

  Murdock talked to Mrs. Bronson, and had a car take a big pot of coffee and a dozen sandwiches down to the men at the helicopter near the bridge. There was a good road that went down there and the lady said it would be no problem. Murdock knew the men wouldn’t leave the chopper unprotected. They’d sleep beside it all night.