Flashpoint sts-11

by Keith Douglass

  Canzoneri grinned. “You fat pig, I’d take it all and jam it right up your asshole and laugh.”

  DeWitt and Murdock had a quick conference.

  “We found one in the lobby,” DeWitt said. “Then we nailed two more suits.”

  “We cut down three in a back room,” Murdock said. “These are the last two.”

  “Suggestions?” DeWitt asked.

  “We do our job.” Murdock and DeWitt turned and fired six rounds each into the two men, who slammed backward from the force of the rounds and died against the oak-paneled wall.

  “We take the money and turn it in,” Murdock said. “That way these bastards can’t buy more cocaine paste with it. Find a plastic garbage bag, a pillowcase, or a suitcase. Go now.”

  The SEALs split up and searched the rooms. Jefferson came back with a green canvas barracks bag.

  Murdock nodded. “Stuff the bills in there and take it with us. Jefferson, it’s your baby. You lose it, and it’s a statement of charges out of your pay for eight million. Who has Willy Peter?”

  Two men called out.

  “Use them. One here, one farther back. Want to see this place burned to a crisp. We’re out of here.”

  They were soon a quarter of a mile away, heading for a series of low shacks such as they had seen near Cali at the processing plant. Behind them, the mansion began to burn through the walls. The buildings they aimed for were what Murdock had figured.

  The SEALs found no guards around the processing sheds. Canzoneri gave some instructions. “Put the charge at the center of one side of the tank. That will blast it inward and crumple it so the vat can’t be fixed. A quarter pound of either TNAZ or C-4 should do the trick.” He looked at his commander.

  “Timers, Cap. How long?”

  “We’ll use the net. How many tanks here?”

  “Twelve, Commander.”

  “Plant the charges, get a check by radio, then we’ll set the timers, depending on where else we go. Lam, see what you can find out about some larger buildings for storing the finished product.”

  Five minutes later, Canzoneri had a radio check that the charges were all ready. Lam had not returned. “Set the timers for thirty minutes and get back up here pronto,” Murdock said.

  They had to find the finished cocaine storage area, and the one for the local ethyl ether, then the planes. A good night’s work yet to come.

  Lam caught up with them two hundred yards from the production facility.

  “Two buildings up there beside the runaway,” Lam said. “One of them has a loading ramp. We should check it out for the coke.”

  They jogged across the open ground toward the buildings that had a few night-lights on. They stopped in the darkness a hundred yards away. Now they could see more lights. A pair of floods snapped on.

  “Why?” DeWitt asked. “They couldn’t know that we’re here. Half of them must be over at the big fire.” They could still see where the mansion burned. It was really roaring now, with fire out the windows on the third floor. A fire engine had responded, but it was far too little and too late.

  “We have twelve minutes to the first charge at the vats,” Canzoneri said. The twin floodlights snapped off. Lam lifted his binoculars and watched the area. Three minutes later, the same lights flashed on.

  Lam chuckled. “Some kind of a stray dog is wandering around up there,” Lam said. “It’s an intrusion sensor picking up the dog and turning on the light.”

  “So we’ll have to shoot them out before we go in,” Dobler said. He shifted his weight so it would be on his good leg. His right thigh still hurt where the bullet had gone through, but it was coming along. He could live with it. Usually he didn’t even notice it. He figured it might slow him down half a step in a fast forty-yard sprint.

  “How close is the dog?” Murdock asked.

  “He activates the lights at about fifty feet. It’s set for a wide pattern. Silenced shots would be best.” He paused. “Oh, damn. That little dog has some company, two full-grown Doberman pinschers with studded collars. Guard dogs running as a team. Problem is, I don’t see any fence to keep the dogs in.”

  Dobler snorted. “The best-trained guard dog knows his limits. He won’t go outside the area he’s been trained to protect, and he won’t let anyone inside that boundary. Must be damned good dogs.”

  “Too bad about them,” Murdock said. “We have a silenced sniper rifle?”

  “Yeah,” Quinley said. “I got stuck with Fernandez’s gun.”

  “Bring it up,” Murdock said. “You and Lam move up. Lam, take out the dogs on their next pass with your silenced MP-5. As soon as they go down, Quinley, kill those lights. Go.”

  Well behind the SEALs the first of the processing tank charges went off, followed quickly by eleven more. They lit up the landscape for a few seconds with each blast. When the last finished, they heard a siren and could see headlights bumping across the land toward the tanks.

  Quinley and Lam scurried toward the target, keeping low and hitting the dirt at about forty yards. A minute later, the lights came on and showed two Dobermans. Murdock could hear the cough of the MP-5 on three-round bursts. There were two of them, and the dogs went down whining, then quieted.

  As the dogs died, Murdock moved his platoon forward. An instant later, Quinley killed the first light but took two shots to get the second.

  The SEALs ran into the darkness around the building. The big truck door was down at the dug-in ramp. At the far side, they found a door with a padlock. Two silenced rounds slammed it open, and Murdock and Dobler darted inside. Murdock brought down his NVGs. Cumbersome, heavy, but damned useful. He scanned the forty-foot-square building, then saw a shed leading off this one.

  There he found long tables, scales, sheets of heavy plastic on rolls, wrapping tables, and at the far end a large stack of kilo-sized packages of ready-to-transport cocaine.

  The other SEALs came in behind them. Dim lights around the inside of the big room gave off an eerie half-light.

  “No fire hose,” Jaybird said.

  “Look for any kind of plumbing and a faucet we can use,” Murdock said on the net.

  “Let’s go to work on those packages. We slash them open with our KA-BARs. It’s going to be work. Wish the damn stuff would burn better.”

  Mahanani found a hose and faucet halfway back on the building. There was enough hose to reach the first part of the stack of coke neatly arranged on pallet boards.

  “Ronson, guard us out that side door. Watch just outside for any activity. Hope most of them are still at the fire.”

  Murdock took his turn slashing the kilos until his arm ached. Jaybird worked the hose, spraying the powdered cocaine, creating a pool in the middle of the stack to further the melting. There were ten pallet boards each loaded with carefully stacked kilos four feet high.

  Ostercamp found another hose at the back of the room, and this one was larger. It evidently was a fire hose. It kicked out an inch stream of water. The melting went much faster then. They slashed and sprayed and before long, all of the SEALs had white spray all over their cammies.

  “Company,” Ronson said on his radio.

  “How many?” Murdock asked.

  “Looks like two truckloads heading this way. No way we can know if they’ll stop here.”

  “Franklin, Ed, Lampedusa, Ching, get out there and hit them with the twenties with the laser if they come closer than five hundred yards. Use the airbursts, and knock them out before they get here.”

  “How about six hundred yards, Cap?” Ronson asked.

  “Go.”

  The four men rushed out the side door and set up. DeWitt watched the trucks. They were on a road that led directly to the packaging facility. Ed had his Bull Pup on the target with the laser. The other four men did as well.

  “Let’s do it,” Ed said and fired. He got the laser back on the target just as his round exploded over it. The rig teetered on the edge of the road but kept coming. Four more rounds went off in airbursts over t
he truck at almost the same time, and the truck veered off the road and tipped over.

  They fired at the second truck now at five hundred yards. Ed didn’t use the laser this time and saw his next two rounds explode on impact with the front of the truck. One round must have gone through the windshield; the other blew apart the radiator and part of the engine. The truck died in place, and the men bailed out just in time to greet three airbursts that riddled them with shrapnel and sent them screaming to the rear.

  “If you see anyone out there move,” DeWitt said, “pick a target and laser him for an airburst.”

  All was quiet for a minute, then two of the Bull Pups barked, and the airbursts shattered the stillness.

  “Love this damn Bull Pup,” Ed DeWitt screeched on the mike. “The bad guys are running back home.”

  “We need another fifteen minutes in here,” Murdock said. “We’ve smashed the scales, slashed all of the plastic, and when we leave, we’ll put some charges around just for good measure.”

  “How many you want, Cap?” Canzoneri asked.

  “Don’t waste them. We still have some ether to take out. Two should do this place.”

  “More company, Commander,” Jaybird said. “Three big trucks coming around the back side. Too close for the laser. We need some help with the twenties, and we need it damn fast!”

  24

  Medellin Cartel

  Plato, Colombia

  Six SEALs charged out a back man-sized door and saw the problem. Murdock heard Jaybird firing already. He went prone and lifted his Bull Pup. Yeah, too close. The trucks were within two hundred yards of them. He aimed and tracked the first truck and fired a 20mm round.

  “Thirty dollars’ worth,” he whispered.

  The round hit the side of the truck and exploded. The rest of the twenty rounds were hitting now. One truck took a direct hit in the engine, and fire gushed from the hood as it veered to the left and ground to a stop.

  The second truck kept coming. Somebody put a round into the right front tire, and when the tire blew, the truck careened in a sudden turn to that side, lifted high on those side wheels, and then settled back to the roadway and spun around to a stop.

  Murdock watched the third truck try to turn away from the slaughter. It took two twenties at the same time, one penetrating the windshield before it exploded in the cab and the other one hitting one of the wooden bows holding up the canvas top and exploding with the shattering spray of shrapnel that cut down half the men riding in the back of the rig. The truck kept rolling with no one alive behind the wheel. Then it slowed and stopped.

  Soldiers had been spilling out of the trucks as they were hit. Now they assembled and put down fire at the SEALs. They were only 200 yards away. Murdock burrowed lower behind an oil drum and considered. He touched his lip mike.

  “We’ve got two CARs that can fire forty-mike rounds. Get them up front here fast.”

  Ron Holt had one, Ostercamp had one on his back. They slid behind some wooden boxes in back of the building, and Murdock talked to them.

  “We need some HEs on those assholes out there. About two hundred yards. Drop in a few, and let’s see what they do.”

  The SEALs fired two rounds each. The first one came in short, the next three walked up the line of winking muzzle flashes. The volume of rounds slowed from the Colombians.

  “Four more each,” Murdock said. “We have the rounds?”

  “I have four,” Holt said.

  “Down to three, Cap,” Ostercamp said.

  “Do them.” The other SEALs kept up their 5.56-round fire from the Bull Pup’s smaller barrel. Seven more 40mm HE rounds dropped in on the soldiers and killed and wounded a dozen more. In the dimness, Murdock could see several men running back the way they had come.

  “Keep them moving,” Murdock said. When they were 400 yards away and he could barely see them, he caught one with a laser spot and fired a twenty. It reached the required turns and exploded with the proximity fuze fifteen feet off the ground. In the flash of the round, Murdock had seen three men running. He figured all three of them were not running anymore.

  “Cease fire,” Murdock said.

  The silence closed around them like a thick audio fog. A man screamed somewhere in front of them. Another voice in Spanish harangued the first. Then all was quiet.

  Murdock left two men on guard and took the rest back inside.

  “Lam, where’s our next target, the ether?”

  “Not sure, Cap. There are two big buildings to the south about two hundred yards. Want me to check them out?”

  “Go. We’ll finish here and meet you halfway. Canzoneri, you ready with those charges?”

  “That’s a roger, Commander.”

  “Set them for ten minutes. The soup here is cooked. All the coke is melted we have time for. Ninety percent gone, I’d say. Maybe fifty, seventy five million dollars’ worth.”

  “Let’s get out of here, troops. South side. Now.”

  They assembled and moved out a hundred yards south and waited. Canzoneri told them there were two minutes to the blasts. They turned to watch the packaging and shipping building.

  The explosions were an anticlimax after the others. The great noise and rush of air blasted past them, then one side of the big building blew out and half the roof caved in. The SEALs went flat on the ground as the brilliant blast of light flashed past them, then was gone.

  Lam ran up and dropped. “Yeah, all this fun and fireworks, too. Found it, Cap. It’s the second building down here. First one looks like a barracks, so I stepped softly around it. We’re off maybe three hundred yards from it.”

  The SEALs took a short hike. Murdock rubbed his left wrist where the bandage was. It hadn’t hurt him, but he knew the bullet hole was still there. It itched. Did that mean it was healing? In the heat of action, he didn’t even realize he had a weak left wrist. Now it throbbed, but no real pain. At least the round had missed the bone. Hell, he’d get it looked at later.

  They found the building with the ether inside. Lam said he had seen no exterior guards. The place didn’t even have a lock on the door. They went in and found no guards. There were enough barrels of ethyl ether to keep the syndicate in production of cocaine for some time. It took seventeen liters of ether to produce one kilo of cocaine.

  Murdock studied the storage area through his NVGs.

  “I figured there would be more here,” Murdock said. “Jaybird, give me an estimate on the number of barrels.”

  Jaybird ran down the rows of barrels and came back.

  “Three rows of barrels three wide and two high. Each row is ten barrels long. That’s one hundred and eighty barrels, Cap.”

  “Canzoneri?”

  “Same as last time. Only six charges this time out. We’ll use a half pound for each bomb. Give me five minutes, and I’ll have them in place. Hey, guys, I need some donations of TNAZ.”

  “Go,” Murdock said.

  Four SEALs went outside, one at each wall of the building as guards. They saw only activity around the packaging building. A small fire had started, and they could see figures trying to put it out.

  Lam was on the prowl to find the landing strip.

  Seven minutes later, the SEALs left the ether building and hiked away five hundred yards toward some far lights. The big blasts came right on schedule. The TNAZ set some of the ether on fire, blasting the liquid ether around the place like burning torches, and soon the rest of the barrels cooked off, blew their caps, and erupted into a massive blast that flattened the building and sent a gigantic fireball and mushroom-shaped cloud into the sky. The SEALs could hear the drums raining down in front of them. Some were still burning like bright bonfires.

  The SEALs shielded their eyes.

  “You guys do good work,” Lam said on the net. “Found the fucking landing field. It’s about a mile to the west. Could be on our way out of this cocaine garden as well. Look to the west. You’ll see a glow from the lights of Plato. I’ll find you as you come this way. I’v
e seen no security out here. They all must be fighting fires.”

  “We’re moving,” Murdock said as he touched the SEALs near him and they hiked toward the west in squad diamond formation. Murdock always thought of the diamond as a defensive/offensive setup. With it, half the squad could do assault fire to the front, and the other half could give protective fire to the rear. It was almost a perimeter defensive formation, and it was good for a lot of reasons. If all the men went to ground and pointed outward, they would have a perimeter.

  They found nothing to slow them down as they jogged the mile toward the west. Lam picked them up at the halfway point and talked with Murdock and DeWitt.

  “Couldn’t see it all, but there’s a couple of buildings and a windsock and what looks like a concrete runway maybe three-quarters of a mile long. Saw four twin-engine transports, like the old DC-3s. Maybe a little smaller.”

  “Sounds like a perfect setup for the twenties,” DeWitt said. “We can stand off and blast them into rubble until we start a fire.”

  “I’ll go with that. How close are the planes parked to each other?”

  “Thirty yards apart, at least. Also in the area are two small Piper Cub type planes and three trucks, six-bys, by the look of them.”

  “Good, let’s hold here a minute.” Murdock used his Motorola. “Holt, we need to do some long-range talking. I’m in front.”

  Holt hurried up and pulled the fifteen-pound SATCOM radio out of its nest and aimed the antenna. He gave Murdock the handset. “We’re on voice, Commander.”

  It took Murdock three tries a minute apart to raise the carrier Jefferson.

  “Rover, this is Home Base.”

  “Home Base. We’re in the ninth inning here. One more contact, and we’re ready to exfil. What would contact time be if the chopper left soon?”

  “Rover, we have a problem. Stroh wants to talk with you.”

  There was a pause, then Don Stroh came on.