Payback sts-17

by Keith Douglass

  “What about the staff here at the ranch?”

  “We don’t have enough men to provide protection for them. They know the territory. As soon as they heard the helicopters explode, it’s my guess that they all ran to some safe haven.”

  “Not Barney. He’d grab that forty-five pistol and charge out to defend his property. Known Barney since Nam and he was one gung-ho Marine. Never saw a man who took to the nasty war the way he did. Oh, yeah, Barney would not cower behind a wall somewhere and pray for help. He’d be right in there battling, and this time, probably getting his balls shot off.”

  Sanborn touched the speaker in his ear and listened. He looked up at the President. “We’ve established that Maria Alvarez is the one member of our group we can’t account for. General Arnold said she saw her go into the rest room just before the attack.”

  Two explosions sounded and Sanborn looked up. “Hand grenades. They may be trying to flush out anyone in the main house before going in.”

  “They could have sixteen men?” the President asked.

  “That’s an estimate, Mr. President. We’ll try to get some sightings of them when we can.” Sanborn moved to the side of the cabin and used his lip mike. “Net call. Can anyone see any of the attackers? Are they on the ground yet? Where are they?”

  “Six here. I saw them land at the far end of the parking lot. Two small birds. Ten men came out one of them, and eight out the other one. If we had the ordnance, I’d suggest we splash the choppers.”

  “We don’t have the right weapons. Everyone hold with your charges. Has anyone seen Mara Alvarez?” The net remained quiet. “Who had Mrs. Alvarez as his charge?”

  “Five here. That was number Seven. Williams was assigned to Alvarez. I haven’t seen him or heard from him either.”

  “Thanks, Five. A chance he’s been taken and they may have his radio, so watch what you say on air. Has anyone seen the troops go into the main ranch house?”

  “Four here. I saw six of them go in from the north door. All wore cammy uniforms and they had long guns and sub guns.”

  “Copy that, Four. Has anyone seen members of the staff? There are still twelve workers on duty this week, down from the usual twenty-four. Any reports on them?”

  “Three here. I saw four of the staff running into the brush and woods above the house. They were waiters and cooks, I think.”

  “Any more?” He waited. “Okay. Keep the principals scattered as well as you can. Our weapons can’t match theirs. As soon as it looks safe we filter deeper into the wilderness away from the house. Don’t move more than three miles from the house so we can keep in radio contact. Don’t worry about food or water. It takes nineteen days to starve to death. You can go without water for three days. But there are small streams all over the place. Don’t worry about the quality of the water. Up here it’s all good, so drink it. I want a net check every hour on the hour. Sign off net.”

  Sanborn listened as his men signed off in order, except for number seven. Williams was still missing. The rest were all up and doing their jobs.

  “Larry?”

  Sanborn looked at the President, who had sat down on the bed and was looking wrung out.

  “How long will this last?”

  “We don’t know, Mr. President. We have used the SATCOM on several chanels asking for help, and try for some nearby military. We’ll put out a Mayday call on rotating channels until we get somebody.” The President nodded and lay back on the bed with his feet still on the floor.

  Sanborn motioned to his partner, Phil, who took the SATCOM outside, sat up the antenna, zeroed it in, and made the calls on one channel after the next. Five minutes later he had reported to the Secret Service in Washington, D.C., and to two military posts.

  The two Secret Service men with the Vice President had planned what to do in an emergency the first day at the ranch. They did that on every location, in every situation. Seldom did they have to follow through on the plan. This time they did. They rushed the Vice President out the back door, followed a trail past the stables, and cut left directly up the slope.

  “We get as far away as quickly as we can without being seen,” Dirk Elwell said. After five minutes, they paused in their run/walk and looked back. They could barely see the top of the ranch house through the trees. They saw no men in military uniforms.

  “Another half mile and we come to that little ridge we can use as a lookout and as a fort,” Dirk said. They both carried the short-range Uzi submachine guns, belt .38’s in the middle of their backs, and hideouts on their left ankles. All short-range weapons.

  “Who are these guys?” Vice President Paulson asked.

  “Best guess is they are North Koreans and are a part of the attack they made on us in several places. Small, slashing attacks, guerillalike, but deadly. What worries me is how they knew you and your party were up here. It was supposed to be a top-secret getaway.”

  “In Washington it’s hard to keep a secret,” Paulson said. “Somebody told me that in Washington even the ears have ears.”

  Ten minutes later they made it to the ridge and sat down behind it. Looking over the top, they had a perfect view of the ranch house. Trees obscured the rear of it, but they could see the burned-out hulks of the choppers. They saw the two smaller birds at the far end of the parking lot. As far as he could tell, Dirk decided there were no guards around the enemy helicopters.

  Below in the cabin, Sanborn nudged the President of the United States. “Sir, it’s time we move on. We’re too close to the ranch house here. We need another mile at least.”

  President Dunnington put his feet on the floor and sat up. “Yes, more distance. You’re right. At least I had a short rest. Old bones don’t work as well as they did when I was fifty.”

  They left by the side door and moved upward. Sanborn led the way, crashing brush, holding branches, making the walk as easy as he could for the President. There was no trail here. They moved at a slant up the hill, then angled back the other way, always working upward.

  Ten minutes into the hike the President called a halt.

  “Sorry, guys. I need to take ten. Heard anything new on your radios?”

  “Nothing, sir. All of our people are moving away from the ranch house on predetermined courses. We had a plan. So far it seems to be working.”

  “Hear anything on the SATCOM?”

  “No, sir.”

  “Get it started up and call AT&T. That thing will hook up with telephones, right?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Try it. Any area code, then five-five-five, and one-two, one-two. See what happens. It could work. Then you get the number of the nearest military base here in California.”

  Phil, the other Secret Service man, set up the small dish antenna and aimed it toward where the satellite should be. He moved it slightly until he received an on-line beep from the set. Then he studied the radio a minute, flipped some switches, adjusted a dial, and then used the handset. “Never tried this before. Hey, it works.”

  “AT&T information. What city, please?”

  “Operator, this is the Secret Service on a satellite phone. I need the phone number of the closest military air base to Sacramento, California.”

  “Just a moment.”

  “Dead air. I guess she’s looking it up.”

  “Sir, that would be Lemoore Naval Air Station just south of Fresno.”

  “Would you ring the commanding officer, please?” Phil said. He grinned and handed the mike to Sanborn.

  “Yes, sir, ringing.”

  “Captain Johnson’s office, sir. How may I assist you?”

  “This is Secret Service Agent Sanborn. I have an extreme emergency and need to speak to your CO.”

  “Sorry, sir, he’s not on the base. Would the OD do?”

  “Yes. Get him.”

  A moment later a ring and an answer.

  “Officer of the Day.”

  “Hello, this is Secret Service Agent Sanborn with President Dunnington’s party in the
Sierra Nevadas. We have a problem.”

  “Yes, sir. How can I confirm your identity?”

  “You can’t. What’s your name?”

  “Lieutenant Commander Richard Jones, sir.”

  “Good, Commander. We’re in the Sierras west of Sacramento with President Dunnington and some of his top advisors. We’ve been attacked by an armed force and our three HU-53’s have been destroyed. We’re at the Saddle Mountain Ranch resort south of Saddle Mountain peak about three miles. We need help. An armed force from two choppers has captured the ranch house and we’re in the brush. You can contact us on SATCOM channel two. Do you have any Marine Recon on your base?”

  “No, sir. Not exactly an infantry-type outfit.”

  “Any SEALs?”

  “No, sir, they’re in San Diego.”

  “Well, get somebody in here fast, before dark if you can. We’re in big trouble and it’s on your head, Commander. My name is Sanborn, with the Secret Service. Now get cracking and report back to us on SATCOM channel two within twenty minutes.”

  “Yes, sir. Out.”

  Sanborn made some adjustments on the dials and called his home office in Washington, D.C. There was an immediate response. The SATCOM transmissions were scrambled, and thus perfectly secure.

  “Secret Service, Presidential Detail.”

  “Joe, this is Sanborn with the President. We’ve been attacked by a foreign military unit and lost our three birds. We’re scattered in the brush and woods around the ranch we came to. We need help and we need it now. We contacted Lemoore Air Station, but they don’t have much help. Get us some Marine Recon or SEALs or Airborne Rangers. Get some armed forces here as quickly as you can.”

  “This for real, Sanborn?”

  “Absolutely. Get us some help or I’ll personally tear your balls off. Now move something.”

  “I’ll tell the chief and we’re on it.”

  They signed off and Sanborn nodded. “Now we’ll see who can get somebody here first.”

  Before they could move on, an amplified voice boomed over the mountainside.

  “Secret Service agents. This is a warning to you. We know that you and President Dunnington and his top aides are here. We are asking you to come back to the ranch house and be comfortable. Tonight it will be dark and then cold, miserable, and perhaps wet out there.”

  The English had a decided accent to it.

  “We encourage you to come in because we have captured a pretty lady named Maria Alvarez. We also have six members of the staff of workers. We simply require all of you to report in within an hour, or we will start executing one of the captives for every half hour you are late. Is that clear? We would start with the owner, Mr. Bronson, but unfortunately he challenged us with a pistol and was shot to death. So, the first hostage to be shot precisely at one-thirty P.M. will be Mrs. Alvarez.”

  16

  NAVSPECWARGRUP-ONE

  Coronado, California

  Bill Bradford shook his head at the commander’s announcement. “No wet suits, you said, so that means we have another land-slogger assignment.”

  “More like a mountain-climbing event,” Murdock said. “Now listen up, we don’t have a lot of time. We fly out of North Island in a little less than an hour. The trip could last a couple of days, so take an extra set of cammies. The usual mix of weapons, with the snipers on both squads to use the new Knight Mk 11. We haven’t had much work on that new weapon yet, so this will be its test under fire.

  “Now to the particulars. We’ll be going out of North Island in the luxury flight on the Gulfstream directly into Sacramento. From there we will move by CH-46 to a road three miles from the Saddle Mountain Ranch. It’s a working cattle ranch, which also has luxury accommodations for city slickers who want to be cowboys for a week. From our drop-off point we will move with two platoons of Army Rangers toward the ranch, with the hope that we can find the North Koreans who have attacked the President and his party, take them down, and rescue the civilians.”

  There was a yell and lots of loud talk.

  “You mean somebody tried to hit the President?” Luke Howard asked.

  “Correct. He was on a secret conference with his top aides, and two choppers bored in and blew up three CH-53’s and we don’t know what else. They are hurting and need help. The hit took place just about 9 A.M. It’s now 1115. We fly out at 1200, so let’s get moving.

  “That’s a huge wilderness area up there in the Sierra Nevada Mountains. We’ll be around the five-thousand-foot level and near Saddle Mountain. That’s somewhere near the South Fork of the American River. Questions?”

  “Cold-weather gear?” Franklin asked.

  “Snow should be long gone up there by now. We might wind up wearing both sets of cammies. No special cold gear.”

  Murdock looked around. No more questions. “All right, let’s get our gear ready. Double on the ammo. We’ll all take drag bags for additional ammo. We won’t have any friendly local supplier. We take what we’ll need including six MREs per man. Senior Chief, see if you can get some of those good ones with the heating pouches. That’s it. Let’s move.”

  * * *

  The sleek Gulfstream II, which the Navy called the VC-11, rolled off North Island using only handheld blinkers from the tower for control. Because of the blackout the tower was down. The bird was usually reserved for VIPs for fast trips. Lately the SEALs had been in the fast-trip category and had used the business jet several times. It was made by Grumman, now called Gulfstream Aerospace, held a crew of three, and could carry nineteen passengers in the best airliner recliner seats.

  The Gulfstream has a wingspan of sixty-nine feet and is eighty feet long. It uses two Rolls Royce MK 511-8 turbofan engines that push her along at 505 miles an hour with a ceiling of 43,000 feet. Range was no problem getting to Sacramento. The bird would do 4,275 miles without gulping any new fuel.

  They landed VFR at the Sacramento airport, working through a series of blinker signals and filtering in with hardly any air traffic. Flight time was a little over an hour and a half. More than twenty airliners sat on the ground, not able to take off due to the blackout that had shut down all air-control facilities. The Gulfstream pilots did a lot of looking around the sky before they brought the ship into Sacramento airport, to be sure that there were no other aircraft in the same area at the same time.

  They taxied to the transient plane hangar and were met by an airport safety jeep. The driver talked to Murdock. Then the SEALs picked up their drag bags and gear and headed past the business jet fifty yards to where a CH-46 sat with two armed guards around it. The time was slightly after 1335.

  Jaybird couldn’t let it pass. “Hey, guys, we in a hot LZ here or what? Why the cannons?”

  A second class glared at him. “Loudmouth, they just lost three CH-53’s over there where we’re going. We don’t want to lose this one. Any objections?”

  “None at all,” Bradford said as he walked past the guard and into the bird. The rest of the SEALs climbed on board and sat down where they could find a spot on the floor. This wouldn’t be a luxury flight. Murdock and DeWitt talked with the pilot outside, and then all came in and the two guards moved to the side doors and hooked up their machine guns on swivel mounts.

  “How many civilians are we hunting up there in cold country?” Canzoneri asked.

  Murdock looked up from a map he was studying. “Our orders didn’t say. Just the Presidential party. Could be ten or twelve, maybe with six or eight Secret Service agents along.”

  “Those guys still carry the Ingrams under their coats?” Jefferson asked. “Think for an outing like this they’d get some long guns to take along.”

  Murdock pulled down his lip mike on the Motorola. “Listen up. The pilot gave me a message from Don Stroh. There were supposed to be two Army Ranger platoons waiting for us here with their choppers going along on this ride. They got hung up at an airport and the locals wouldn’t let them take off. They were up the coast somewhere that’s still blacked out, and the
local sheriff clamped down and blocked the runways with fire-fighting trucks. So for the first phase, we’re on our own.”

  “Shit, they don’t get to come to the party,” Jaybird said. “Bet they are pissed.”

  “We’ve got six hours of daylight left. Take us maybe half an hour to get up to the PD. From the Point of Departure, we’ll work up hill toward the ranch. We’ll go cross-country, and we don’t know where the sneaky North Koreans are, or if they’re still even in the area.”

  “Wilderness, you said, up in there,” DeWitt said. “Where could they go?”

  “From the sound of things, the Ks have been planning this thing for some time,” Lam said. “They could have come in as civilians, hired a pair of choppers, and moved in forty men, made their hit, and gone out the same way they choppered in.”

  The engines on the big chopper started and revved up, and soon they lifted off and flew northeast.

  “We’ll be about ten miles north of Placerville,” Murdock shouted to DeWitt, who sat beside him. “Damn rugged country. I don’t know how the owner gets to his ranch. Probably made his own road into the place.”

  “This dude ranch. Do they have guests there while the President is there?” DeWitt called.

  Murdock shook his head. “Last radio message said no guests, just the President and his team and Secret Service.”

  “No recon, no data, we’re really going in blind.”

  “That’s why you earn the big bucks, DeWitt. Our first job is to find the ranch and see if anyone is there. Depending on what we find, we figure out what to do next.”

  “We have the SATCOM,” DeWitt said.

  “The pilot says he’s to stay in the general area. If we want him we should use our Motorolas, or fire a red flare. He’ll jump ahead if we’re getting out of the five-mile radio range.”

  “He can talk to his home base?”

  “Right, Lemoore Naval Air Station down below Fresno.”

  They were quiet then, watching the country out the side doors. The chopper had moved up to a thousand feet over the terrain, and had to keep climbing as the ground rose into the foothills, then into the Sierra Nevadas themselves.