Seal Team Seven 7 - Deathrace

by Keith Douglass

  "It worked, nobody got hurt."

  "So far," Tauksaun said. He spoke with the lens grinder for a few moments, then Tiny came. They put a blindfold around the small man's eyes, and Tiny led him out the front door.

  It would take Tiny a half hour to get the man out of the area and safely away. Tauksaun didn't talk to George. He tried to find some American music on his short-band radio. He got mostly static, then located an American station on one of the Air Force bases in Germany. The music came through loud and clear.

  The Andrews sisters had just finished a golden oldie, when Tiny came in. She closed the door, then tried to turn, but staggered a step before she fell to the floor. George went down beside her and held her head. Her eyes rolled for a moment, then steadied in place.

  Blood seeped from her mouth.

  "Police," she whispered in English, then passed out. George carried her to a pallet beside the floor bed and stretched her out. He had tears in his eyes. Yasmeen knelt beside Tiny on the pallet, making a quick examination.

  "She's been shot in the chest," Yasmeen said. "Probably hit one lung, and for sure lots of internal bleeding. If she doesn't get to a hospital, she'll die."

  "No hospital," Tauksaun said. "The police would recognize her and let her die there. Tiny isn't exactly unknown to the authorities. This is all on your head, CIA man."

  He stared at Tiny for a moment and blinked rapidly. He nodded to himself, and then used the telephone. He spoke quickly in English and Farsi, then hung up.

  "A friend, a nurse, will be here quickly. Before she comes, you two must go. Now."

  "Can I help?" Yasmeen asked.

  Tauksaun watched her; his eyes seemed to narrow as a frown tainted his round face. "Perhaps. Your father is wealthy. We always need money. Yes, you can help. Twenty million rials would be good. That's only a little over sixty-six hundred dollars, George, don't look so surprised." He rolled, and sat up straighter with a great effort.

  "Now both of you out of here with your radio and your American dollars that could get us all shot on sight. The Secret Police will be here shortly. Somebody will always rat on me for a few thousand rials. Out."

  "Thanks for the help," George said. He picked up the radio and put it away in his shoulder bag, then pocketed the forty-five after making sure the safety was on.

  "No thanks needed. I just hope you haven't got me killed."

  Yasmeen and George went out the front door and hurried down the street. George could almost smell the Secret Police coming. He frowned as they rushed along. He had a little more information, but not nearly what the Company demanded. How the hell was he going to find out anything else without going into the region? The idea of a small plane was good, but he'd have no chance at all renting such a plane down in that area. There might not even be an airfield down there. He didn't know that much about Iran.

  They saw a military vehicle moving down the street toward them. It was still two blocks away. Yasmeen pulled at his arm, and they drifted into an alley, then ran full speed to the next street. Yasmeen looked both ways, then they darted across the street into the alley, and ran through it until they both were panting so hard they had to stop. They leaned against a wall.

  "I think we got away from them," George said.

  Yasmeen scowled at him, her eyes almost closed. "I hope nothing happens to Tauksaun. He's a friend. He helps with the protest movement."

  George shook his head. "Tauksaun will come out smelling like a bunch of violets. He's a survivor. Not even the Secret Police will be able to hurt him."

  "What are you going to do now?" she asked.

  "Not the faintest."

  "Come to our house. It's big and I'll tell Papa that you're teaching me better English. He wants me to be good in English. But we can't even touch at my home. You understand. Iranian women aren't that free. We have tremendously strict rules."

  "You mean, we can't make love in your father's house?"

  "He'd chop off your head if he caught us."

  George chuckled. "I think I can keep my hands off you. Which way do we go?"

  Before they could move, a man jolted around the corner twenty yards from them and shouted in Farsi for them to put up their hands.

  "Run," Yasmeen barked. She went right, he went left. The Secret Policeman with the submachine gun tracked his best target and fired a 6-round burst. Four of the slugs caught Yasmeen in the back and she stumbled, tried to call out, and pitched into the dirt. Yasmeen died before she hit the ground, where her face dug a foot-long furrow in the dust and garbage of the Tehran back alley.

  Before the Secret Policeman could turn his weapon on the second person, George had sprinted around the corner to safety. He ran hard down the block to the next alley and surged into it. He paused. No one chased him. George panted. He had to get more exercise and stay in shape.

  He'd seen Yasmeen fall. Damn them. She was dead or as good as dead by now. Which left him absolutely at the end of his string of contacts. He was running in fucking hostile Tehran. The Secret Police were hunting him. He had lost his luggage, all of his clothes, and personal gear. He had only his "vitals" in the shoulder bag. He had a deadline of six days to find out for sure where the Iranian nuclear manufacturing site was situated. How in the hell was he going to do that?

  8

  Saturday, OCtober 22

  1622 hours SEAL training base Coronado, California

  By the time Murdock and Kat returned from the obstacle course, it was nearly 1700. Murdock dropped in his chair, and looked at DeWitt and Jaybird. "So, how did Kat do?" Jaybird asked.

  Kat came in the door standing as tall as she could, and grinned. "I did it all except the ten-foot wall."

  "That takes good upper body strength," DeWitt said.

  "Hey, I'm a long-distance swimmer, remember."

  "Any word from Don Stroh on our request for more time?" Murdock asked.

  DeWitt shook his head. "Not a word, which might be good news. He should be fighting for those four more weeks."

  Murdock looked at the chart in front of him. He passed it to Kat.

  "Your schedule. First things first in case we get short sheeted. Weapons training the next two days. Then two days of parachute jumping. Can't see any other way we can get into Iran fast and quietly. Then comes rebreather work in the ocean, and some underwater techniques. Last we'll get you working in the first squad, so you'll know who does what and when."

  The phone rang.

  Murdock picked it up.

  "Third Platoon, SEAL Team Seven. Murdock."

  "Stroh here. Murdock, you've got friends in high places. You get your four weeks. State is unhappy, but my boss said we don't have the target tied down for you yet. That has to come first."

  "We'll make good use of the time."

  "We're having another small problem. Lost our local in Tehran. We might need some fast muscle in that area and I'm touting the idea of sending in two of your men to help protect and cover our sales representative there. If he can't pinpoint the target, the whole operation is off."

  "Two men? To serve as backup and some firepower? Remember, we're action guys, not your average Company spook."

  "Our man's still there--he'll lead the way and do the digging, but he's lost his cover and been chased twice now. He needs some backup with some firepower. Nothing definite that we can drop two men in. We'll know by Monday. Pick out two men who can use a radio and who can take care of themselves. Anybody speaking Arabic or Farsi would be helpful."

  "Oh hell yes, half our guys speak Farsi. Anything else?"

  "No. You've got four weeks, and hang loose. How is Kat doing?"

  "She just came back from the range and the obstacle course. She's looking good, for a Ph.D."

  "Remember, she has a round-trip ticket to Iran. You'll be hearing." They hung up.

  "So, we got our four weeks?" DeWitt asked.

  "We have. They still haven't located the target. Might need some help in Tehran. Soon you guys will be taking a pleasure cruise into
Iran."

  "Iran?" Jaybird said. "Already they don't like us there."

  "True. Jaybird, find out if any of our guys speak Arabic or Farsi."

  "Should be in the personnel files." He left the office.

  Murdock looked at Kat and DeWitt. "We've got a job to do, so let's revise that training schedule. Kat, we'll want you to check it out and see how fast we can push you." He watched as she flexed her shoulders.

  "Your arms and shoulders getting sore?"

  "Yeah. I haven't been swimming enough last few weeks."

  "We'll take care of that. Of course, you'll be swimming in your cammies most of the time and with your boots on. It's harder."

  "I'll start tomorrow. Now, where's that training schedule?"

  Jaybird came back in. "Found a guy who speaks Farsi--Colt Franklin, one of the new guys."

  "Who else can run a SATCOM besides Holt?" Murdock asked.

  "Joe Douglas, second squad."

  "Get Franklin and Douglas in here now. We've got something coming up."

  Kat looked up from the training schedule on Murdock's desk. "I want to do a mile swim and a three-mile run every day besides the other training. Unless it doesn't fit in."

  Murdock grinned. "Young lady, we'll try to arrange it. No solo swimming. You'll have to have a buddy. We don't want to lose you to a Great White."

  "I'd like to take that swim now, Lieutenant Murdock. Who wants to go with me?"

  "Now?" Murdock asked.

  "Unless it interferes with your schedule, Lieutenant."

  Murdock lifted his brows, and pointed at his platoon chief. "Jaybird, take Kat on the one-mile course on the bay side. Then see that she gets to her quarters."

  "Now, sir?" Jaybird said, surprised.

  "Now, sailor. A SEAL is always ready for the unexpected."

  Jaybird snapped a salute at his commanding officer. Murdock was so surprised to see it, that he only half returned it.

  "Get out of here, Jaybird."

  When they left, DeWitt concentrated on the schedule a moment. "Murdock, I think Kat is going to fit in nicely. She's tough as old leather, has lots of heart, and is a worker. No wonder the brass wanted her along. She'll do a lot better than most of the men the AEC could have sent us."

  "Agreed. But she's still a civilian. We can't get her SEAL trained in four weeks, so there will be a lot of chances to fuck up. Our job is to make damn sure we get her into the target with all of her bodily parts working."

  DeWitt checked his watch and moved toward the door. "Thanks for sending Jaybird on that swim. I didn't want to be late getting home tonight. Time I tell Milly about Kat. Last night I just told her the person was a civilian. Sure you don't want to come over for dinner?"

  Murdock waved. "Count me out. I hate bloodshed among the civilian population. Let's hope Milly is tremendously understanding. Starting tomorrow, you'll be with Kat twelve to fourteen hours a day. Be sure Milly understands that."

  "Oh, yeah, easy. Maybe I'll just sleep on base tonight."

  "Sure you will."

  "Right, I better get home and face the firing squad."

  "Won't be that bad. We'll have Doc Ellsworth ready with his medical kit for you first thing in the morning."

  At the end of the Navy Amphibious Base pier extending into San Diego Bay, Jaybird looked at Kat.

  "Lieutenant, you have anything in your pockets you don't want to get wet?"

  "Just have my I.D., which is sealed. I'm ready when you are."

  "Let's do it."

  They dove into the bay and both gasped at the coolness of the October water. Jaybird did his famous side stroke until he saw Kat surface from her shallow dive and strike out with a strong crawl. He kicked into one himself, and caught up and stayed with her. She went out much faster than the usual SEAL crawl, but he didn't say anything.

  "We'll go east to that first point of land," he called. She nodded, and angled to the right.

  Five minutes later, Jaybird saw that he was falling behind. Kat's strong crawl stroke had picked up in tempo, and she pulled away from him.

  When she came to the turnaround down from the point, she stopped and treaded water waiting for him to catch up.

  "This the turnaround?" she asked.

  Jaybird said it was, and she kicked out for the pier.

  By the time Kat went up the ladder to the pier they had left, she was three minutes ahead of Jaybird. He came up the ladder puffing. He squeezed water out of his cammies, and nodded.

  "Lady, you won't have any trouble keeping up if we have to take a swim getting in or out of country over there."

  "Good, Jaybird. Next time maybe we can try the ocean side."

  Ed DeWitt made it home ten minutes before Milly came from her job as a computer network analyst at Deltron Electronics. She was an expert in her field, and was making a salary twice what Ed made even counting his housing, food, and uniform allowance.

  He checked the menu written out on a pad on the refrigerator door. They tried to specialize in healthy yet quick-to-fix meals. Tonight it was Spanish rice, a green salad, French cut green beans, and rolls. Whoever got home first always started dinner cooking. Sometimes it was murder for Milly to get across the Coronado Bay Bridge from San Diego. Tonight, DeWitt thought, must be one of those times. He had the Spanish rice simmering when Milly came in the door.

  "Don't ask," she said, tossing her purse on the kitchen table and dropping into a chair. "Everything went wrong. I've never seen such a foul-up. I never get the little problems, just the ones nobody else knows how to fix."

  He kissed her and put his arms around her, chair and all. "Bet you solved the problem in a rush. Hey, you have to earn the big bucks they pay you."

  She sighed, and kissed him back. "I guess. Sometimes I just wish that I could stay home and raise babies. There, I said it. My nesting instincts are high right now." She gently moved his arms and went to the stove.

  "Smells good. Spanish rice always is great the first day, but a bummer for warming up. I wonder why."

  She turned. "Hey, I'm sorry. Me, me, me. So how was your day? How is that new civilian working out?"

  "Need to talk to you about that." He led her back to a chair and pulled one up facing her. He sat down.

  "Hey, you look serious. You proposing or something?"

  "Something, yes. I never tell you much about what I'm doing, or where we go. I can't. This time I've got to. Top secret--not even your best friend can find out about this. Our civilian is from the AEC or some such group. This person is an expert at dismantling nuclear warheads and bombs. This person is a woman."

  He stopped, and watched her. Milly frowned. "You mean the CIA is sending a woman with you on your next mission to dismantle some atomic warheads or bombs?"

  "Exactly right."

  "No woman can take all the physical punishment you guys go through. I've seen you black and blue with bruises from head to foot. I've watched your bones knit back together and changed bandages on your bullet wounds. They must be crazy sending a woman in with you."

  "That's what we thought. The problem is the President said that this woman is going. We can't really get around an order from our Commander in Chief."

  Milly eyed him seriously, then her face melded into a small frown. "Have you met this woman?"

  "Yes, she's on base, began training this morning."

  "I'm curious. What's she like?"

  He gave a quick description of Kat.

  "Yes, yes, but is she pretty? You said she was about thirty. Is she pretty?"

  "Pretty? A vague term. She's attractive, fit, seems to have a good attitude. Did I tell you she's a Ph.D. in nuclear physics?"

  "No. How can she hold up on your long marches, your swims? Can she parachute?"

  "She won the second Hawaiian Iron-Man woman's triathlon--the swim, bike riding, and marathon. Yes, she's fit and strong."

  "I just don't understand why they would pick a woman for this job."

  "Evidently she was the best person to get the work d
one."

  "So you got the job of training her in SEAL techniques."

  "Afraid so. We were on the small arms range this morning. We ran both ways, six miles round trip. She never faltered."

  Tears welled in Milly's eyes. They spilled over. "You want me to move out?"

  "Milly, of course not, Why on earth would I want that? She's not personal. It's my job to train her well enough so we can get her to the target. After her work is done, she has to be able to get out of there with us, and not be such a liability that half the platoon gets killed." Milly began sobbing, and reached out and clung to him. "Oh, God, not that. I pray every time you leave me. I know you're doing something important for our country but it's so dangerous. I don't sleep much while you're gone. Did I ever tell you that? I'm not sure if I eat anything. I always lose about ten pounds when you're gone. Oh, damn, I wasn't ever going to tell you that."

  "I didn't know." He took her in his arms and held her. After a while, she stopped crying.

  "I'll be putting in some extra time. It's my job to teach her how to shoot our weapons, show her what we do, and how we do it. If I do my job right, then she won't cause any of us to get wounded or worse. Yes, we'll be baby-sitting her, but unexpected things always happen. If she can defend herself, so much the better."

  "She, she. Does this woman have a name?"

  "Katherine Garnet. She has the temporary rank of full lieutenant and she said to call her Kat."

  "How nice." Milly sniffed. "I'm sorry, Ed, I didn't mean to sound so snide. She's probably a fine person. I want you to invite her over to dinner tomorrow night. If you aren't having any kind of night drills."

  "I'll arrange it. Yes, good idea. I think you'll like Kat. Now, I think your marvelous dinner is ready. May I seat you at the table and serve you?"

  As they ate, they talked about her work, and the new theater season coming up. All the while DeWitt remembered what she had said about losing ten pounds while he was gone. She shouldn't do that. But who could they trust? Then he remembered one of the men in his squad, Fernandez, who lived with a woman in Coronado. He'd talked to him. Maybe the two women could get together when the platoon was on a mission. He'd never met the woman. They would have one huge thing in common. It might just work. He'd talk to Fernandez in the morning.