Tropical Terror (19 page)

“Not a lot of help. We have three that could work. We'll try them when we get some of this junk out of the way. The survivor guys are just about ready to wrap up. They'll be back with the daylight to pick bodies off the shore and out of the surf line.”

“The Chinese know by now that they lost the sub. They'll be furious and might just shoot the bomb. The quicker we can find it the better.”

“You can send out a signal to that transponder?”

“We have the gear. You want to come on board with three of your divers so you'll be ready if we get a contact?”

“Good idea. Can you send a boat?”

“If you don't want to swim out.”

“Please send the damn boat.”

Murdock rousted out the best swimmers and divers he had. Ed DeWitt would be one, Mahanani and Lam the other two. They stepped into the boat from the
Chief
at a little after 0400, and were met at the minesweeper with dry cammies, jackets, hot coffee, and sandwiches.

Commander Lawson took them into a room filled with electronics. “We do a lot of work from here. We have seven frequencies we want to try out. So far the first two did not
produce any return. We're on number three now. We transmit for thirty seconds, and do that three times. If we hit it right, there should be an almost immediate response.”

Fifteen minutes later they were on the next-to-last frequency. The technician triggered the transmission and sat back as he had done more than twenty times before.

“We have a response, sir,” the chief said. “We have a continuous reply on that frequency. I can have direction for you in a few seconds.” He worked some instruments in front of him. “Sir, that's at one hundred sixty degrees. You want sonar to give us a range?”

“Yes, Chief. That would be good.”

“Range is two hundred and eighty yards.”

Commander Lawson looked at Murdock. “Don't just sit there, SEAL. Go get into your diving gear and let's retrieve us a damn nuclear bomb.”

It took the four SEALs only three minutes to slip into the SCUBA gear, test the masks and airflow, and work down the ladder into the warm Hawaiian bay. They all had their wrist compasses, and moved out on the l60-degree heading. When they agreed they had covered the 280 yards, they stopped on the surface and treaded water as they talked.

“We all go down and find the box, then Mahanani comes back up. By that time the ship should be overhead, and they'll pass him a line or a cable and he'll bring one or two or three down to us. We hook them on, latch them up good and strong, and knock three times on the cable to start the lift. Everyone on the same page?”

They nodded in the dark, then duck-dived and began swimming down the one hundred feet to where the bomb should be.

It had been some time since Murdock had used a standard SCUBA outfit, and the heavy tank on his back seemed out of place and strange. But as he neared the bottom he forgot about it and concentrated on finding the bomb.

The bomb was not there. The bottom showed up darkly
sandy with a few scuttering fish, a rock or two, but no bomb. They moved straight ahead down the azimuth reading.

It loomed out of the dusky depths like a freight train gone wrong. It lay on one side, the same fake beer truck they had seen before. Inside would be the wooden box, with slats and holes and holding something dark and dangerous and deadly. They checked it out on all four sides. They gathered and nodded, gave the yes sign. It had to be the beer truck they had seen before.

If the Chinese had coordinated their attack better, surprise might have won for them. But the four Chinese frogmen came out of the gloom one at a time from the same direction, which meant finding the four SEALs there must have been a surprise for them as well as for the SEALs.

Murdock drew his KA-BAR fighting knife from the scabbard on his right leg, and charged the first knife-wielding Chinese. He saw the other SEALs pull out their knives and take up the hunt. The first Chinese may have been their best. He drove in, then darted the other way and made a wide swiping attack with his blade. It missed. That gave Murdock a chance to kick in hard and drive his knife at the Chinese man's exposed right side while the frogman's knife was high over his head.

Murdock felt the blade sink into flesh, but the victim twisted away. Not a killing thrust.

They parried, dove in, and then back. Murdock saw that it was a one-on-one fight times four. A SEAL could get hurt that way. He feinted one way, caught the Chinese frogman defending that way too far, and kicked hard through the water and sliced his heavy blade through the air hose right below the Chinese frogman's face. Air gushed out. The eyes of the man through the face mask were wide and filled with panic. Then he began to stroke upward toward the surface. Murdock caught his legs and held him down. Bubbles exploded out of the Chinese frogman's tank. His hands stabbed at Murdock's arms around his legs. Slowly his struggles eased, then stopped. He was dead.

Murdock turned just as one of the Chinese swam away from his fight with Lam to attack Murdock's unprotected back. Murdock swung his KA-BAR and saw blood from a
slashed wrist stain the blue of the water. He followed up kicking the man in the stomach, then driving his blade into the man's chest. Murdock yanked the blade out with an effort, and saw the Chinese man go limp and drift away with the gentle current.

Remembering his near-fatal mistake, Murdock spun around now quickly to check for any attacker near him. He saw Mahanani grab his challenger from behind and drive his KA-BAR deeply into the man's chest, then let him go and watch him settle to the bottom.

Ed DeWitt swam toward the rest slowly. One hand held his air hose to his tank. A few bubbles seeped out around his hand.

He pointed upward and Murdock nodded. He pointed to Mahanani to go up, bring down the cables, and be sure that the JG made it to the top.

The two pushed off, working slowly toward the surface, hoping there wouldn't be any air-bubble trouble.

Murdock nodded. At only a hundred feet depth they shouldn't have any problem going up rather fast. The two SEALs left on the bottom pushed on to the beer truck. It lay partly on its side. It had only half the weight here it would on deck. They found that with a lot of shoving they could rock it, and then they heaved, and it tilted over and bounced on its flat tires, sitting upright. It was in a position now so that they could attach cables and hooks to four places on the frame, two in front, two in back. Murdock edged into the truck cab and looked in back. Yes, the same wooden crate was there. The bomb was still on board.

There was no sign of the sling that had brought it here. It could have come undone and floated away as the truck went straight to the bottom.

They waited. It wasn't long, but just staring at the device that could vaporize him and half of Oahu in a heartbeat left Murdock a little unsettled.

The damn lead blankets. He'd forgotten about them. Where were they? Yeah, on the point in the Humvee. Have to get them to the ship fast as soon as they got up. Or he could send Mahanani back up as soon as they got the cables down there and ask the captain to go get the blankets.

The Hawaiian came down then with a diver from the minesweeper. They each carried the end of two one-inch-thick cables. They were let out gently from on top so the men wouldn't be crushed by the weight of the heavy steel wire.

Murdock swam to Lam, and all four worked with the heavy cables to attach them to the frame. Hooks worked on the front. In back they had to loop the cable around the frame and secure the hook on the cable. Lam nodded. Murdock knew he had to go topside and have the lead blankets brought out to the minesweeper to cloak the bomb on board so no Chinese radio signal could set off the bomb. No way he could tell anyone else down here to go get the blankets.

He worked upward slowly. Then when he realized there were no bad effects on his bloodstream, he hurried and surfaced twenty yards from the boat. A crewman helped him up the ladder.

Commander Lawson was there waiting.

“It's the bomb, the same one you saw before?”

“Yes, and we need those two NEST lead blankets we have onshore. Can we get a boat and a crew to go get them so we have them here when the bomb hits your deck?”

“Oh, God, yes. I'd forgotten about that.” He yelled at a chief, who lowered a twenty-foot boat over the side and took a crew of four and powered for shore.

Murdock went over by the winch where the cables were attached, and watched. DeWitt was there as well, showing no ill effects from the close encounter below. Soon a clanking came from the cables.

“The signal, sir, from below,” said a sailor who sat on the winch seat in front of the controls.

“Ease her up gently three feet and see how she holds,” Commander Lawson ordered.

It was done.

Twenty minutes later, the top of the beer truck broke the surface next to the minesweeper and the crew cheered. They hoisted it on the stern, and six men quickly opened the rear doors and covered the wooden crate with the two lead blankets from NEST.

“Better tell the admiral we have his bomb,” Murdock said.
He slumped to the deck and let the tension and exhaustion drain out of him.

Commander Lawson came back a few minutes later and squatted beside Murdock.

“We'll put you and your men off at the point. The admiral told us to get up speed and start moving straight north away from the islands. He'll let me know when to stop. My guess is we'll go out far enough to get a chopper to lift it off and move it somewhere else. Just where, I'm not certain. The admiral wants it off the islands as far as possible. He said if we try to deactivate it the way we do our own, there could be some break-to-make circuits inside that would set it off.”

“He could always fly it and a crew to Midway Island.”

“Or one of the far-out northwestern Hawaiian islands. The chain stretches almost to Midway. I guess it's the end of the chain.”

“How does he get it there fast?” Murdock asked.

“His problem as soon as he lifts it off my ship.”

Ten minutes later, the SEALs had shucked out of the SCUBA gear and were back on the point of land at the top of Kaneohe Bay.

Senior Chief Dobler met them at the beach where the boat from the minesweeper had deposited them.

“We got the bomb, Senior Chief. Anything else cooking from Stroh or the admiral?”

“Nary a beep. Skipper, looks like time you had some quality sleep.”

“What time is it?”

“Almost 0500. Sack time.”

Murdock nodded, found some grass next to the Humvee, and slid down. He was sleeping before he could get his eyes closed.

Senior Chief Dobler watched the four divers find spots and go to sleep. He hadn't heard anything from the admiral, mostly because he told Holt to leave the SATCOM radio turned off. They deserved a little bunk time for a change. He wasn't sure when he had slept last, but he could get along with very little shut-eye.

He'd done this before with the other platoon. This was the second platoon he'd handled, and he figured it might be his
last. He was coming up on thirty-eight years old. Dobler sighed and rubbed his left calf. An old injury. No, an old wound. A knife had gone in and all the way through. The bastard who cut him didn't live two minutes after that. A good trade-off.

When would he throw in the damn towel and call it a career with the SEALs? He had no notion just when. The first time he couldn't keep up with the platoon on a forced march, or couldn't lift his share of the burden on a mission, he would be out of the SEALs. Well, maybe not out of the SEALs, but for sure out of the platoons.

He could always get another spot in SEAL Team Seven. Lots of billets he could fill. He had in nineteen, only needed one more for retirement. Right now he had no idea of abandoning the ship on twenty. Maybe twenty-five or thirty. He hadn't promised his wife he'd quit at twenty. Some of his buddies had done that, and gotten in a whole shit-pot full of trouble. He grinned. Had to keep a strong hand at home just like with the platoon.

At 0800 Senior Chief Dobler roused the platoon and had Holt turn on the SATCOM to receive. It spoke at once. Murdock and the rest of the platoon had just come together to figure out what to do next.

“Lieutenant Commander Murdock, respond to CINCPAC. We've been trying to reach you. We have a problem. Contact us at once.”

Holt passed the mike to Murdock.

“CINCPAC, this is Lieutenant Commander Murdock responding to your message.”

The set spoke quickly.

“Good. Your position and situation, Commander.”

Murdock told the speaker.

“Good. Use your transport to come to CINCPAC HQ at Pearl. The admiral has an assignment for you that we're two days late on already. Report in at the earliest possible time.”

“Roger that, we're on our way.”

DeWitt said what all of them were thinking. “The admiral has a project for us that we're two days late on already? What the fuck does he mean by that?”

The three SEALs stood stiffly at attention in front of Admiral Bennington's desk. He had just welcomed them on board.

“Stand at ease, men. This won't take long.” The admiral rubbed his hand over his face. Murdock thought it showed a few more wrinkles and a drawn look it hadn't had before.

“When I said we were two days behind on a mission, what I meant is that something happened two days ago and we just found out about it this morning. The Hawaiian governor and four of his top aides and staff have been kidnapped by the invading forces. Quite simply, we want you to go and free them and bring them back all safe and sound.”

“Kidnapped, sir?” Murdock asked.

“Strange set of circumstances. The day before the invasion, the governor and five of his people went on a reality retreat where they were going to test themselves and to do some hard planning for the year ahead. It's a primitive camp high up on Red Hill, the highest point on Maui. It's surrounded by a national forest reserve and a lot of woods and open spaces.

“The place is called Hardship Camp, and it's used by some
of our juvenile courts and church groups and by some big business firms for a total confrontation of personalities.

“There is no electricity, running water, or sanitary facilities whatsoever at the camp. The only access is a five-mile hike from the end of a horrendously crooked two-lane road leading up the north side.

“None of the campers were permitted to bring along cell phones, radios, laptop computers, any type of communication devices. They wanted to be isolated for four days so they could get some heavy work done.”

“What about the operators of the camp?” Murdock said. “They must have some kind of communications.”

“If they do, no one knows about it. Two ex-nuns run the place. They do a lot of meditating and prayer, and don't hold with modern conveniences.”

“How do we know they're still there?” Ed DeWitt asked.

“The Chinese told us. They brayed it on their radio and in English so we all could get the message. The press picked it up. It's in tonight's papers and on the TV and radio. It's a huge story.”

“How did the Chinese get in there?” Senior Chief Dobler asked.

“We assume by helicopter. In and out middle of the night.”

“So they might have only twenty or thirty men there,” Murdock said.

“A Lieutenant Hing of the Chinese Marines claims that he has a hundred men surrounding the top of the mountain. He says he can hold off a battalion of attackers.”

“Realistically, how many men do you think he has?” DeWitt asked.

“My Marines say not more than fifty, maybe thirty-five. It's an easy spot to defend.”

“So we go up and dig him out,” Murdock said.

“My people suggested some kind of a silent approach and a surprise.”

“I'd guess the mountain is forested,” Murdock said. “Not a good spot for a parachute landing. That cuts down on the element of surprise.”

“We could go in by small helicopters that wouldn't make
much sound,” Dobler said. “Slip in on the off side of the mountain from the camp and work around to it.”

“They'll have at least two layers of outpost security,” DeWitt said.

“We go around or through them,” Murdock said. “I like the idea of the smaller choppers at night. If there isn't an LZ up there we can rope down. I'd guess you'd want us to be up there tonight?”

“First dark if you can make it, Commander.”

A commander at the side of the room came up and gave Murdock a letter.

“Show that wherever you need to and you'll have complete cooperation. This covers any supplies, services, or aircraft and vehicles you need.”

“Thanks. Admiral, we better get moving. We have some planning and resupply to do. Can the choppers be at Hickam by 1800?”

“Should be no problem. Work that out with Commander Philder.”

“Thank you, sir. We'll do our best.”

“That's all we ask, Commander. That's a valuable package up on that mountain. Let's hope that there is no damage to any part of it.”

“Yes, sir.” Murdock said. The SEALs did about-faces and walked out the side door followed by Commander Philder.

They settled on one Sea Knight that was available at Hickam for use by the Navy. It took another two hours to check out the SEALs and work out resupply needs. They took extra ammo loads that would come in drag bags.

The retreat was on the south slope of Red Hill two miles from the end of the road, which came almost to the summit and dead-ended there. The roadway came up a rugged route from the north.

The SEALs checked out the maps in their quarters at Pearl.

“Looks like we can come in from the north and even in the Sea Knight we have a good chance they won't hear us on top,” Dobler said. “We'll be about a mile down and land on the road. Quick on and off so we won't bother any midnight traffic.”

“We take the twenties?” Holt asked.

“Two of the Bull Pups and two EARs,” Murdock said. “Regular weapons as well. We don't know what we'll run into up there, or just where the hostages are kept.”

“The description of the retreat brags that there aren't any permanent buildings, only a few tent floors and frames,” DeWitt said.

Commander Philder came in and told them it was set with the Marine flyboys for transport. “The Sea Knight can do a hundred-and-fifty-four-mile-an-hour cruise speed, and the run over to Maui is only ninety-two miles. So you get there in little less than a half hour. The Sea Knights have plenty of range to return to base without refueling.”

“When does it get dark?” Murdock asked.

“This time of year, about 1900 unless there's a rain squall. Then it's earlier. When do you want to leave Hickam?”

“Liftoff at 1830,” Murdock said. The commander nodded and hurried outside.

The liftoff came on time, and it was still light enough that they could see most of Molokai as they slanted past it. Then some weather closed in and they missed Lanai. They came in on Maui on the southwest coast, and began climbing due west up to Red Hill. By the time they crossed into the Kula Forest Reserve, it was almost dark. The pilot had vectored them in slightly north of the peak so he could find the road from the north.

He nailed it, then followed it in the moonlight at a hundred feet over the wash of the ages-old spread of volcanic debris. They were at the very edge of the Haleakala National Park. It encompassed the huge caldron of the dormant Haleakala volcano.

It was almost dark now, but below they could see a wild variety of native trees, eucalyptus trees, and fields of cactus. The darkness closed in and the pilot dropped down lower. He came soon to a flat spot on the paved road, and set the chopper down on the blacktop. They could see no car lights either way.

“Pilot says we're a mile from the top, so all ashore,” Murdock said as the wheels touched and the crewman let down the rear hatch. The SEALs moved out slowly, each with a drag bag filled with ammo and goods they might need for a
stay of several days. They grouped well out of the rotor wash, and watched the bird button up and lift off, going back the way it had come.

“Welcome to Maui, ladies. Let's take a hike,” Murdock said. They hiked up the road until they could see lights of the visitors' center. They went into the brush there and bypassed the center, then worked slightly downhill as they moved around the west side of the mountain. They had planned on avoiding the Skyline Trail, which wound around to a recreation area well below. The retreat was supposed to be two miles south from the summit on a small peak and with a flat place around it. Murdock figured the clients of the retreat walked in on the Skyline Trail.

As they moved through the darkness, the landscape changed. The towering eucalyptus trees gave way to brush and more rain-forest-type vegetation. Murdock had seen on one of the maps that this was a forest reserve. The wood and brush became thicker. Evidently this side of the island received more rainfall than the other side.

Murdock called a halt after a half hour. They had been scrambling along the side slope of the mountain, which made it tougher going. Each SEAL had his usual jungle cammies, floppy hat of the same design, and his weapons and ammo. The average load for this trip was from sixty to seventy pounds depending on the weapon and ammo. Four of the men carried two weapons, the Bull Pup or the EAR gun and their usual shooter. Add a forty-pound drag bag of ammo and supplies, and the men carried a load.

The break gave Murdock some time to think. He could lay out no plans for this mission. It was so blind he felt like he had a black cloth wrapped around his head. They would simply have to play it by ear and as the chips fell. The damn situation and terrain again.

He wondered what Ardith was doing this night in Washington, D.C.? Usually he didn't let thinking about her smash into his work on a mission. Somehow tonight was different. He missed her. God, how he missed her. She was special, more wonderful than any woman he had ever known, marvelous, a good friend, and a delicious and inventive lover. Oh, damn. He frowned. Had he said that last out loud? He
looked around. Nobody paid any attention to him. They were recuperating for the next hike.

He checked his watch. Five minutes. Time enough. No, another five. This one was special. He didn't want to mess it up. If they were too tired they could stumble into an outpost. The damn Chinese would have guards out. He hadn't figured where they would be.

After ten minutes he lifted up. The others saw him and stood. There would be no talking the rest of the way. Murdock and Lam judged the distance. They were spread out ten yards apart, barely able to see each other, but it was safer that way in case of an ambush or a lucky hand grenade. Then only one man would go down, not four or five if they were close together.

Lam went out in front as the scout working through the trees and brush, staying at the same level on the mountain. From here it looked like they were about a thousand yards down from the top. Where they should be. Another mile and they would be in position. He wasn't sure if they should start up tonight or do some recon and find out what they were up against.

 

High on the slopes above them in the Hardship Camp, Governor Tom Itashi sat on the low wooden bunk built into the wooden sides of the tent foundation and frame. His hands were free, but a steel band tightly around his right ankle was locked to the side frame. Lieutenant Hing stared hard at him in the soft glow of one candle that had been waxed in place on the end of the bench.

“I ask you once more, Governor Itashi. How much time will it take your people to respond to our demands?”

“Lieutenant Hing, I have no idea. You ask for a helicopter and gold and a ship. I can offer you none of these. The U.S. Government and the Hawaiian State Government do not negotiate with terrorists for the lives of hostages. I've told you that a dozen times.”

“You are not just a prisoner; you are the governor of Hawaii. An important man. They will not sacrifice you for their principles. In the end they will meet my demands.”

“So, if you get the gold and the chopper and the ship, you
will vanish into the Pacific and be rich for the rest of your life?”

“Not true, Governor. I do everything for the great nation of China. I will take the gold to the ship and meet with the victorious Chinese Navy and be promoted to captain in the Marines.”

“I am concerned about the welfare of my people. How are they? I haven't seen them since you captured us.”

“They would be better if you cooperate. I have fed them once a day. Each has one blanket. None has been beaten, yet.” Lieutenant Hing smiled. “Of course I could beat them one at a time while you watched, until you directed your people over the radio to bring the gold.”

“Lieutenant Hing. That would not move me. I was a U.S. Marine. I have killed men with my bare hands. I have seen more death, torture, and wanton killing than you can even imagine. You're a child when it comes to persuasion, laughable.”

Governor Itashi didn't see the blow coming. Lieutenant Hing slammed his fist into the governor's neck and toppled him sideways on the bench. Governor Itashi struggled to sit up. His jaw felt like it was broken. He moved it, then smiled. “Lieutenant, not bad for beginner. If you had some proper training and . . .”

He saw it coming this time, caught the fist on his arm, slanted it upward with his left, and counterpunched his right fist into Hing's belly. The man's eyes went wide and he staggered back, trying to recapture his breath. His face worked in fury. Then he stabbed his right hand at his waist and drew the pistol there. A 9mm probably, Itashi thought, as he saw the hand come up and the weapon fire.

The slug jolted into the governor's right thigh and felt like a white-hot iron rod had been drilled into him. He bellowed in pain, then cut it off. Had the round gone all the way through? He lifted his leg, but before he could feel underneath, the pistol slammed against the side of his head and dumped him sideways to the wooden bench again.

The governor sat up slower this time. “Did I tell you that I was a line-crosser in Vietnam? I did a lot of headhunting work. Most guys can do that job only a few months. I lasted
for two years before I got shot up so bad they sent me home. When the chopper brought me out I had eight bullet holes in my hide. Yeah, eight. I should'a got a damn Purple Heart for each one.”

Hing came up close to the governor, his nose an inch from the other man's face.

“You will use the radio and advise your people you have been shot and that they must obey my orders sent to them yesterday. The chopper has to be here no later than your time ten o'clock tomorrow morning, with the gold and the destination where we pick up the ship. You must do it, or all of you will die.”

The governor ignored the man in his face. He reached under his right leg. There was no exit wound. The bullet had hit a bone or slanted upward or downward. It was still inside his leg. It had to come out of there within seventy-two hours or his life could be in danger.