Bloodstorm sts-13

by Keith Douglass

  “Get the car,” Murdock snapped. “We can’t leave him here.” He hurried to the Secret Policeman on the ground. He hadn’t moved since he went down. Murdock checked him for a pulse. None. He lifted him over his shoulder and carried him into the shadows of a building at the near side of the alley.

  No windows had opened when the shots came. No one had opened a door and looked out. No one wanted to be involved. Good, Murdock decided. The doctor was with him in the shadows as Jeru drove her car up to the mouth of the alley. Murdock carried the body to the car and pushed the body into the backseat. Then he stepped in after it.

  A moment later the car turned around and Jeru drove it away.

  “Where?” she asked Murdock.

  “Landfill, garbage dump, river?”

  “Nothing nearby.”

  “Any old wells, coal mines…”

  “Wells. Yes, in an old section. Not used. Yes. About ten minutes away.”

  Murdock systematically stripped the body of all identification. There wasn’t much, a wallet with some cards, a pin on the man’s shirt. Murdock had brought the dropped gun. It would go down with the body.

  By the time the car stopped, Murdock was ready.

  “Let me look around a little,” Jeru said. “We don’t need any witnesses.”

  She was back quickly. She helped tug the body from her car. Then Murdock bent, lifted the man over his shoulder, and carried him where Jeru led. She had removed three old boards from the well top, and Murdock unceremoniously dumped the corpse off his shoulder down the hole. It didn’t take long to hit. Thirty, forty feet deep, but it would do. They put the top boards back on the well top and hurried back to the car.

  Twenty minutes later, Martha had examined Kat.

  Jeru translated. “She says the lady is in good shape. The ricochet caused a lot of bleeding, but the wound isn’t deep and should heal well. The bullet hole is a painful one, but Martha put on some antibiotics and treated both wounds. Kat will be fine on the plane ride.”

  Martha took longer with Ron Holt. She shook her head twice and looked up at Jeru. She talked to her for several minutes in Pashto then went back to checking his chest.

  Jeru talked to Murdock and Dobler. “Martha says that the bullet definitely hit Holt’s lung. She’s not sure how bad it is. There’s a danger his lung could collapse once he gets to altitude on the plane. The other problem is infection. That and the fact that the bullet did not exit his back. It’s still in there, and will have to be found and removed. Three days, tops, for that. She will load him up with penicillin and antibiotics. He can walk with assistance. No hint of any health problem, or they won’t let him on the plane. She says the shoulder wound was a graze that dug a half-inch groove. It will be fine in a month.”

  Murdock considered his options. He would send six men to the airport with first light. Franklin, who spoke Arabic, could get their tickets exchanged for flights going out today.

  That would leave five more of them to get out. Jeru would be coming with them. Jeru would be their interpreter at the airport for the last five tickets. Yes, that part would work. Somehow they had to keep Holt on his feet and moving through the lines to the plane, and do it without attracting any notice.

  Jeru came back. “Martha says she will go with us to the airport to guarantee Holt’s health if there’s any problem. She’ll ditch my bloody car in the poorest part of town. It will be stripped and trashed within an hour after she leaves it. I have my passport and papers. I’ll fly out with you. I’ve already phoned my control here in town, explaining as best I could over an open line.”

  “We could use some ampoules of morphine if Martha can spare any. It may be the only thing to keep Holt from screaming all the way across the continent.”

  Franklin left just after 0600. He took with him Khai, Jaybird, Bradford, Lampedusa, and Van Dyke. That left, for the second go, Murdock, Dobler, Kat, Holt, and Jeru. It should work.

  It took Jeru two more hours to get her affairs in order, to check out with friends, and to decide what to do with the apartment. It was furnished and rented by the CIA, but she had some personal items as well. She sent the cook-housekeeper home as soon as she arrived for work at 0700. They destroyed the SATCOM. Broke it up and trashed it in a three block area.

  “Now, all I have to do is cut my apron strings and I’ll be gone from here while I’m still alive. That missing Secret Policeman is going to set off a firestorm here. His superiors must have known he was watching either Martha or me. She will be able to alibi her way out of it. I would be in Tolkif, the central jail here in Kabul, before noon if I stay here.”

  It took Jeru a half hour at two different airline ticket counters before she had their tickets exchanged. It cost extra, but they had enough of the funny-looking money.

  Murdock stayed right beside Holt every step. He was ready to grab his arm if he wavered. He didn’t. They sat in the seats waiting. Murdock, Holt, and Kat took the first flight. They were on Iran airlines. They had seats assigned. Holt stumbled on the ramp, but Murdock caught him and they made it to their seats, a three-across grouping with Kat on the window and Holt on the aisle. Murdock sat between them, watching them both like a mother hen.

  Kat had yelped once as she walked into the airport, but had been close-mouthed and quiet since then. Once in the seat, she gave a long sigh. “Just a damn little scratch on my shoulder and a small fratulogical hole in my leg,” she whispered to Murdock. “Sailor, there ain’t no fucking way those little scratches are gonna keep down a SEAL.”

  Murdock laughed softly, and reached over and kissed her cheek.

  “Hey, SEAL, you may win your gold trident yet” he said. “Now settle down and try to get some sleep. Best way to pass the time.”

  Kat grinned. “Yeah, you’re right. ’Course, it depends on who you’re sleeping with.” She reached over and kissed him on the cheek, then turned away from him and closed her eyes.

  Murdock tried to relax. He had checked both waiting areas for planes leaving for Tehran, and hadn’t found any SEALs waiting. They must be on their way. Good.

  The last five should be in the air within a half hour. Now, if he could keep Holt from going critical, all would be fine. Anywhere but here, he would have requested a special doctor to be on board in case Holt turned sour. Now he’d just have to take his chances. SEAL lungs were always strong from all the underwater training they did. Still, lungs were tricky. They could collapse for a dozen reasons. A bullet through one must be high on the list.

  Murdock watched the loading. He figured all of the passengers were on board. The attendants were closing overheads and checking seat belts. Then two men in suits came on board, and walked up and down the aisle staring at each person as they passed.

  A scream jolted through the air, and a man dove from his seat and scrambled up, running full speed down the aisle. The suit from the other way blocked his way, knocked him down, and handcuffed him. They dragged him off the plane.

  No notice was made of the incident, and no PA apology for the delay. Moments later the doors closed and the plane rolled out on the taxi strip.

  Murdock watched Holt. The doctor said the decreased air pressure of the cabin, set at about six thousand feet, might trigger a reaction by Holt. Murdock talked with him quietly.

  “Look, Holt, this is the tough time. The cabin will be pressurized at the same as six thousand feet as we take off, and remain that way until we land. You let me know if you have any twinges, or if it’s hard to breathe, anything at all.”

  “Yeah, sure, Cap. Hey, I’m a fucking SEAL, remember? No little scratch like this gonna hurt old Ron Holt. You can count on that.”

  He frowned.

  “What, you hurt somewhere?”

  “Yeah, my shoulder burns like hell. Not all that bad a hit either. Doc told me it would hurt, but my buddy Morphine is a big help.”

  Murdock could tell when the plane stopped climbing. Cruising altitude was maybe 31,000 feet or so. He looked over at Kat. She was watching him. />
  “So far, so good,” she said. “Ron seems to be making it fine.”

  “For now, just so he doesn’t try a hundred-yard dash.” He watched her. “Pretty lady, how are you doing?”

  “Better. That morphine did help.”

  “So will a Purple Heart. I don’t see why we can’t put you in for one.”

  “Because we’re covert, that’s why. Where would I wear it, on my jogging bra?”

  “Good place.”

  “We aren’t done with this one yet, are we? There’s that Chinese destroyer with all the rest of the warheads.”

  “True. And there was some worry that the chopper we missed in Athens airport might have been bringing in more than just one warhead for sale. It could have had four or five. That has to be checked out. NATO was running a trace on the chances.”

  “We might have three or four more Afghanistans to deal with?”

  “We could.”

  It was the deluxe flight with lunch served. It came in the form of a plastic-wrapped sandwich, a cookie, and a cup of coffee.

  They landed in Tehran, and Murdock watched Holt like he was a precious jewel. He never flinched or burped. Many passengers left the plane, but through passengers could not.

  Murdock watched the usual two Iranian police work up and down the long aisle. They didn’t talk, just stared at the people. Kat had gone back to sleep. Murdock tried, but couldn’t. When the cops passed him, he stared back at them as fiercely as they looked at him. The plainclothesman eased up on his stare, grinned, and said something, then passed on by. Murdock let out a held-in breath. One more milepost passed.

  They stopped in Ankara, Turkey, and as they came down, Holt wheezed and grabbed his chest. Murdock came alert at once and leaned over him. Holt could hold it only a few seconds before he began guffawing.

  “Gotcha, Skipper,” he said. Then he frowned and stopped laughing. “Hey, that laughing hurt more than anything. Remind me not to do that for a while.”

  “You must be feeling better if you can play the clown. Easy now, and we’ll have you in white sheets within a few hours.” The hop from Ankara to Athens wasn’t that long. Murdock wished he had a cell phone or the SATCOM so he could have NATO meet them at the airport with an ambulance. There must be one on duty there close by. He’d raise all sorts of hell at Athens until he got an ambulance to that hospital they had used before.

  On the last hop to Athens, Kat watched him. “Hey, this is the first time that I’ve slept with you.” She grinned. “In a manner of speaking. I wanted to tell you it was extremely good for me.” Kat laughed. “I’ve always wanted to say that to a man. Yes. Now for your sparking comeback.”

  “Hey, it was good for me too.”

  They both laughed.

  “I just hope the printing on the rain check I gave you doesn’t fade out over the years.”

  “No chance. It’s under lock and key in a humidity- and temperature-controlled environment, just like the Declaration of Independence.”

  “Good.” She sobered. “What’s going to happen to that Chinese destroyer with the other warheads?”

  “Wish I knew. Depends on how tough NATO has been since we left. They might have it bottled up right now. We’ll find out as soon as we get you two into the medics.”

  “Me? I’m all right.”

  “Hey, you’re better than that. But you get checked over by the local medical guys anyway. They like working on pretty girls.”

  “Check me over and release me. I’m not staying there overnight.”

  They landed on schedule in Athens. Murdock told the attendant that they would need a wheelchair. They waited to be last off, and a chair was at the gate. Holt protested, but Murdock insisted. Kat could walk with only a slight limp.

  Just forty minutes later both patients had been checked out in the Athens hospital. Kat was looked over quickly, the dressing on her shoulder changed and the leg wound treated, and she was released.

  They waited for word from the doctors about Holt.

  A harried-looking doctor came out of the operating room.

  “Commander Murdock?” he asked.

  “Right here.”

  “Your man, Holt, is not the best. His lung collapsed as we were examining him. Lucky it waited until now. We have to get that lung working again, patch up the hole in his lung, and find the slug that caused it. We don’t know where the slug is. We’re listing him as critical right now. We should know a lot more about his condition in twenty-four hours.”

  26

  Athens, Greece

  Back in their quarters in the NATO base, the SEALs had showers, fresh uniforms, and various kinds of food service. Then it was sack time. It had been a long day.

  After his shower, Murdock reported to his control, Admiral Tanning. The admiral was showing some wear and tear, Murdock decided. Not the usual zip. He wiped one hand across his face and waved Murdock into a chair.

  “Good work in Kabul. That’s one more down. Now we’re worried about what else went on with that Athens relay. We’ve had a team of six men working the airport. By now we have chapter and verse on the terrorist chopper when it came in and what happened to the warheads. At least one of them went to Afghanistan. The word we have now is that there was one more warhead and we have three possibilities where it went. It was shipped out within minutes after it hit the airport here.”

  “Three different countries, Admiral?”

  “As of this morning. We have since eliminated one of them, so we’re down to two. Which doesn’t help us one hell of a lot until we get down to the country who bought it from the smugglers.

  “There was a lot of action by Libyan aircraft about that time, but we’ve ruled them out as participants. They were burned twice and must have decided to pass on chance three. Which leaves us with Syria and Lebanon. They had planes and agents all over that airport landing area. It could be either one. From what we have learned, it looked like both were supposed to get goods, but there was only one warhead available. One got it, one didn’t.”

  “So how do we find out which is which?”

  “Diplomacy, old man. Diplomacy.”

  “Which means spies. Do we have any in either of those countries?”

  “NATO doesn’t, but the CIA certainly does. Deep cover, way down there, and reliable. We’ve used them before. With any luck we’ll have a report before breakfast call.”

  Murdock closed his eyes and shook his head. “Excuse me, Admiral, but it’s been a long day. We had two casualties, a walking wounded and a more serious one. Kat took a round through her leg and picked up a ricochet scrape on her shoulder. She says she’s operational, but we’ll see.”

  “Commander, get out of here. You need some sack time. Sleep in tomorrow. I’ll let you know if we have a definite on one country or the other. You have anyone who speaks Arabic?”

  “Two of us, Admiral. We might need to go with just a pair. Talk more about it tomorrow. With the admiral’s permission?”

  “Good night, Commander. Sleep well.”

  Murdock did.

  He slept in until almost seven the next morning, showered, and had breakfast before he headed to the admiral’s office.

  Admiral Tanning worked on some papers as Murdock came into his office. Murdock stood at attention until the admiral looked up.

  “Murdock, yes. I sent a man looking for you. Sit down. Our spooks have found something. They can’t say for sure, but they are ninety-percent positive that one warhead was taken into Syria. Those are not the most friendly folks.”

  “Do we have any kind of a location where the warhead might be?”

  “Our people there say that anything of importance winds up in Damascus in southwestern Syria.”

  “When do we go in?”

  “As soon as you’re ready. Is Kat well enough to go?”

  “She will think so. I’ll have to decide.”

  “Look at this map. No good entry point except by air. We can fly you over Israel and the Golan Heights and into souther
n Syria. Exfiltration would be the same route except by land. No chance we can put a chopper in there to get you out.”

  “Looks like a long walk.”

  “Forty miles to the tip of Israel.”

  “Maybe we can find a camel. I better get the troops moving.”

  Murdock did a snappy about-face and hurried out to the SEALs’ temporary dayroom.

  Half the men were there, most clustered around Don Stroh, their CIA hand-holder.

  “You already know,” Murdock said, looking at Stroh.

  “Hey, I’m CIA, I’m supposed to know. Syria. Only two of the guys speak Arabic. You want me to go along on this one?”

  “Sure, Stroh. Check out your parachute and your H&K 21A1 machine gun.”

  Stroh grinned. “Hey, I was just kidding. You jumping in?”

  “About the only way.” Murdock looked for Ed Dewitt. The Bravo Squad leader was at a far table studying maps. He looked up and came over when Murdock signaled.

  “We’ll be going with Bravo Squad on this one,” said Murdock, “with Kat, if she’s able, and me. Khai and Franklin know the language, so they’ll be our point men. We have a contact in Damascus who should give us some direction. Other than that, we’re on our own. We hike out once we spike the warhead. Any questions?”

  “Transport?” DeWitt asked.

  “Admiral Tanning is having it arranged. It won’t be our usual Black Duck, but some other C-130 that has been minimally outfitted for insertion work over hostile territory.”

  “Wonder where our Black Duck is,” Jaybird asked.

  “Probably swimming upstream without a paddle,” Vincent Van Dyke chirped, and they all laughed. That broke some of the tension that had been building up since Stroh came in the room.

  “So, how much time do we have,” Senior Chief Dobler asked.

  “We’re calling it,” Murdock said. “Whenever we’re ready. Jaybird, see if you can find Kat. Don’t tell her about the mission because I’ve decided she’s not jumping on that shot-up leg.”