“Ain’t for sale.
“Get in the car.”
Gorman and Rattigan advanced on the tall black and he shrugged and got in the passenger’s side front seat.
Tran grinned. “Hey Long John, you see the movie The Godfather? Remember how that spot you’re sitting in is the death seat? When the mobsters wanted to wipe out somebody, they took him for a ride and a guy in the back seat looped the steel wire over the guy and pulled, damn near cutting his head off.”
Long John reached for the door handle, but Rattigan clamped his hand down on the man’s shoulder pinning him in place.
They drove to a dark area where there were few houses, pulled to the curb, and stopped.
“Now, Long John,” Gorman said. “You just sit tight and this won’t hurt at all. Your dreadlocks are no more. Got me a pair of fine barber clippers and I’m gonna take you down to an eighth of an inch all the way over your ugly head.” He snapped on the clippers which gave off a loud buzzing and Long John jumped.
“Look, I can see paying you gentlemen the three hundred. No clippers and I get my wheel back, deal?”
Gorman grabbed a pair of dreadlocks and buzzed them off and dropped them in Long John’s lap. Long John screamed. Gorman slapped him on the head with the clippers and he quieted.
Five minutes later the dreadlocks were all on Long John’s lap.
They helped him out of the car and bound his wrists behind his back with plastic riot cuffs.
“Understand you like to beat up on a man who’s being held by two goons,” Tran said.
Foster, who had followed them in the Buick came walking into the dim light swinging a baseball bat.
“Hear that you like to use a bat on helpless guys,” Foster said going up close so Long John knew who he was.
“Now look, guys. A big mistake. OK. I pounded this dude around a little, I never broke anything.”
“My nose. You broke my nose.” Foster swung his right fist out of the night and slammed it into Long John’s nose, crushing it as blood flew and Long John wailed in the darkness.
“Well, even Stephen on the nose job,” Foster said. He picked up a gallon can of gasoline and slashed half of it in the front seat and the rest in the back of the Chevy convertible. Then he took out a pack of cigarettes and shook out one.
“Think I’ll have myself a smoke. While I’m puffing away, Long John, want you to sit in the front seat of your wheels. Just kind of sit there and wonder when I’m going to flick my smoke into your gasoline fume bomb of a Chevy.”
They shoved Long John into the passenger seat and slammed the door.
“He don’t look right sitting there with those clothes on.” Rattigan said. “Hell, they might catch fire.”
“So we help him take off his clothes,” Foster said. They pulled the tall man out of the car and KA-BAR knives flashed. The three men sliced and tore the clothes off his body until he was naked. Then they forced Long John back into the passenger’s front seat of the car and closed the door.
The four SEALs stood beside the car. Now all four were smoking.
“Hey, give us the word, Foster,” Tran said. “We’ll see who can flip his smoke the farthest and get it inside the car.”
“That’s arson, you guys,” Long John pleaded. “The cops will get you for sure.”
“You won’t care, burned to a crisp Long John,” Foster said. “Hell, you won’t have to worry about anything ever again.”
“A thousand for each one of you,” Long John said pleading. “I’ve got some cash. A thousand up front and you dump those smokes and get me back to my place.”
“Not a chance you bastard,” Foster said. “You beat on me when two guys held me. I would have taken you alone baseball bat and everything. Now you see how it is. Okay, we won’t burn you up. Put out the smokes, guys. But we will leave you here until somebody comes along and helps you, or some cop arrests you. Just remember when you think you’re a tough dude, that us four are all tougher than you ever thought of being. If you ever show your face around that clinic again, or bother any of the people who work there, We four will hunt you down and peal the skin off your body inch by inch and you’ll beg us to kill you. Do I make my point, asshole?”
“Yes. Oh, god yes. I’ll never even drive past that clinic. Never again. Now, give me some clothes to wear.”
“Not a chance” Tran said. “Suffer some more. Your car keys?”
Tran tossed them to Foster. He took them and threw them as far as he could into a patch of trees and brush. “You’ll have to go find them out there somewhere. Your billfold is out there too. We didn’t even take the twenty dollars out of it. Good bye, tough guy. Before long you’ll have to decide if you want to wind up dead or in jail.”
The four SEALs turned and walked to the Buick and drove away. The last they saw of Long John he had the door open and was walking away from the car bomb as fast as he could, still naked as a new born babe. It had been a good mission.
CHAPTER THIRTY
The Farm, Virginia
Three weeks later, all but one small bandage had come off Foster’s nose. His black eyes had faded to white and he was back on duty with the President’s Platoon. They had just finished a rugged day of training that started with a twenty mile hike, then got serious.
Rattigan, McNally and Walden had come off the walking wounded list and were on full duty. They still hurt in places but their wounds were healed well enough they could start toughening up. Lawrence was still at Bethesda Naval Hospital. They had all been to visit him at least twice. He was coming along well and would be paroled to them in another two weeks for light duty, no training. Chang had responded well to his upper thigh bullet wound and had been through Bethesda and was back with them on limited duty.
In his office in the SEALs quarters, Hunter, Bancroft and Senior Chief Chapman went over potential replacements who might fill Clayton Sanborn’s shoes. He had to be just the right SEAL who had been enthusiastically recommended by his commanding officer. He also had to have an FBI background check that went back to grade school. They had a stack of fifteen files on the desk. All had met the qualifications to join the President’s Platoon.
“What about Lawrence?” the senior chief asked. “He might not be duty fit for three months yet.”
Hunter looked at Chapman. “Our policy has been not to take on a temporary replacement. It’s too discouraging for the man being replaced, and can be crushing to the temp when he is sent back to his former outfit. No. We go a man short in Alpha until Lawrence is fit for duty.”
Chapman handed Hunter three files in neat manila folders. “Here are the three I like best out of the bunch. I suggest that we steer clear of married men. One married EM is enough. Can cause all sorts of problems.” He looked at Bancroft. “I was referring specifically to the EM, sir, no reflection on you.”
“I agree on the single or divorced man,” Bancroft said. “That should be one of our qualifications. You getting ready to leave, Senior Chief?”
“Yes sir. I have a heavy date, and if I’m late, she’ll kill me.”
“Get out of here,” Hunter said.
Hunter stacked the folders on his desk. “Let’s call it a wrap for today. It’s been a long one. I need to take a drive into Arlington myself.”
“Say hi to Beth for me,” Bancroft said. “Is it too early to invite you two over for a bar-b-q?”
“Much too early. See both of your tomorrow at oh eight hundred and we’ll select our man.”
Later, on the drive into Arlington, Hunter thought about Commander Beth Darby. They had been out three times, and he was becoming enamored with this lively woman. So far it had been light and fun, no strings attached, and platonic. Tonight they were having dinner at her apartment. He lifted his brows. Never could tell what might happen after the dishes were done.
He took the turnoff into her street and all of a sudden he wasn’t thinking about Beth, he was thinking about the three red hot problem areas in the world where there might be a need
for the services of the President’s Platoon. In another week they would be ready to take on a new mission. He wondered what it would be. The Admiral had called that morning on the secure line and said that there was something brewing that might need their attention. He was to get his men into top shape as soon as possible. A tingling shot down his spine just thinking about it. Another action, but where?
###
Table of Contents
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
CHAPTER NINETEEN
CHAPTER TWENTY
CHAPTER TWENTY ONE
CHAPTER TWENTY TWO
CHAPTER TWENTY THREE
CHAPTER TWENTY FOUR
CHAPTER TWENTY FIVE
CHAPTER TWENTY SIX
CHAPTER TWENTY SEVEN
CHAPTER TWENTY EIGHT
CHAPTER TWENTY NINE
CHAPTER THIRTY
North Korean Blowup Page 26