Flashpoint sts-11

by Keith Douglass

  Jefferson wobbled to his feet and stared at the scene. He held his stomach. Jaybird grabbed him and pulled him out of the circle.

  “Come on, nigger-lover bastard,” the biker said. “Come get what’s coming to you.”

  Lam darted forward, swung the belt, and smashed the heavy buckle into the biker’s upper right arm.

  He howled in pain and charged.

  Lam had sidestepped quickly and avoided the swing of the bike chain. He kicked the biker’s leg as he went by. The leg crashed into the other leg, and the biker stumbled and fell hard to the ground.

  Janie fired two rounds from the revolver into the air. Everything stopped a moment, then another shot blasted into the night. Jefferson grabbed his stomach and bellowed in pain. The shot came from the crotch-kicked man. Holt was nearest him. He surged forward and knocked the gun from the biker’s hand where he still sat on the ground.

  “Call nine-one-one!” somebody shouted.

  “I have them on my cell phone,” another voice called.

  The San Diego Sheriff’s deputies arrived before the ambulance. They had the bikers and the four SEALs in handcuffs. They took off Jefferson’s cuffs when he was strapped onto a gurney and put into the ambulance.

  * * *

  It was almost 1600 the next day when Murdock bailed his three men out of the county jail. They had been charged with disorderly conduct, and a trial date was set for two months away. Janie was there to help, but she didn’t get to testify. She told Murdock about it in the hallway.

  “Those boys of yours saved my party. The bikers weren’t invited. They just barged in. They’re white supremacists. They cause trouble wherever they go. Hope your man isn’t hurt bad.”

  Murdock had been at the hospital half the night as they did emergency surgery on Jefferson and spliced back together part of his intestine and did some minor repair work.

  “He’ll be fine, but it will be two months before he can go back on duty,” Murdock said. “We hope you’ll be at the trial, Janie.”

  Janie gave him her full name and phone number and said it would be her primary concern. She had no idea who the SEALs were or what they did. Murdock was just as happy about that.

  * * *

  That same night, when Ed DeWitt came home, he saw that Milly had made it ahead of him. That meant she must have quit work early. As soon as he stepped into the apartment, he noticed the difference. Soft music played on the CD deck. The table in the small living room was set for two with candles already lit. Milly stood by the table in her sexiest dress that showed an inch of cleavage and the swell of both breasts. She called it her man-catcher dress.

  “Hi there, stranger. Can I take you in and feed you and maybe give you something to drink?”

  DeWitt staggered against the wall. “Anytime, anywhere.”

  Milly laughed at his clowning, hurried up and kissed him, then caught his hand.

  “Just a few more minutes and your sumptuous dinner will be ready. How about a glass of a very nifty little Chablis first to whet your appetite?”

  “Yes, and my appetite is already raring to go.” He kissed the nape of her neck, and she gave him a smoldering look.

  “Just a little later, cowboy. I don’t want the dinner to burn.”

  After dinner, they left the dishes and pots and made love gently, softly, on the couch in the living room.

  “I hear you’ve been a good Navy wife, helping to hold up Nancy Dobler.”

  “She’s a sweet lady, a little uptight, but between Maria and me, we have her pretty well in hand. I don’t think she’ll have any more attempts, at least not while we have our little campaign going.”

  “Now that Dobler is home?”

  “We’ll cut back but still go out with her once a week. Maria and I worked it out. Hey, how is Jefferson? I heard on the news. They’re calling it a hate crime.”

  “It’s certain about that. They used the N word and everything. More than two dozen witnesses. Those four bikers are in big trouble.”

  “Your boys will get out of it with a fine?”

  “Maybe no fine. They were defending the life of their friend.”

  “That Janie sounds like a SEAL herself.”

  DeWitt laughed. “Yes, she just might be able to do it. From what I hear, she ran a good party.”

  She watched him. “Ed, are you happy?”

  “Deliciously.”

  “I don’t mean right now, just after great sex. Are you happy with us, being this way? Not married. No kids. Do you want a regular relationship and a family?”

  “We’ve talked about this before.”

  “I know, and I was the one who hung back. The SEAL syndrome, I call it. Women are simply scared out of their minds that on the next mission her man will be the one in the body bag come home for burial.”

  “You still worry that way?”

  “Absolutely. I wouldn’t be human if I didn’t. After all, people do shoot at you quite often, try to blow you up, sink you, drown you, knife you. I have a hundred damn good reasons to worry.”

  “But not obsessed?”

  She stared at him. Her pretty face went slack and neutral, for just a moment a hint of a smile flashed in, then it vanished. When it was gone, a slow frown settled around her eyes and mouth.

  “Obsessed? No, I don’t think so. Not after seeing what Nancy went through. She actually sliced both wrists and took thirty sleeping pills.”

  “Remember, she’s a five-time loser at suicide. Which could mean that she really isn’t that keen on dying. She didn’t slice her wrists that deep, I’m told, and she called nine-one-one herself well before she could die from the pills.”

  “So she’s sending a signal, but she doesn’t want to die?”

  “I’m no psychiatrist, but that sort of thing has been known to happen. So, you’re not obsessed. Good. Every SEAL in the field is concerned about getting wounded or killed. It’s part of the job description. Asterisk: The body may be subject to any of several kinds of lethal objects entering it, or it may drown or be blown up by enemy fire.”

  Milly rubbed the purplish scar on his chest. “Is this hurting you anymore? Did it bother you on the mission?”

  “No, doesn’t hurt and didn’t bother me. Back to you. You’re not obsessed, and you’re still here. How about you and I getting pregnant? If it works, then we’ll thrash out the marriage idea.”

  Milly’s eyes widened and her mouth opened in a small gasp. She hugged him tightly. Then she sat up. “Oh, yes, darling Ed. Yes, I think so. Right now we throw away our condoms and birth control pills. Hey, maybe tonight we can get pregnant.”

  Ed grinned. “Maybe. If we don’t, it won’t be for not trying.”

  * * *

  That same night, Murdock came in from visiting Jefferson. He was feeling better. The surgery was still hurting and the pain medication didn’t quite knock it all down, but Jefferson would make it. He had been cool about the fight.

  “Oh, yeah, Cap. I was surprised when those four guys called me nigger and attacked me. Thought that sort of shit was over. Then when the one shot me, I was totally blown away. People don’t do that anymore, I didn’t think.”

  Murdock told Ardith about his day and the visit.

  “I’m glad he’ll be all right. Now you have two slots to hold open or fill. Hope you don’t get a call any time soon.”

  “You said you have three more days. Good. Let’s go rock hunting out in the Borrego Desert. About the farthest place I can think of now from the SEAL operation.”

  “Yes, let’s. Oh, I almost forgot. I have a message from your mother. She says she’s ready at any time to help you plan your wedding. Now, I wonder why she’d say that?” Ardith smiled sweetly at him.

  “What a sneaky way to get into the subject.”

  She kissed him softly on the lips and leaned back. “Darling, I know. But we women are something of brood hens. Every time I see a cute little baby—”

  He shushed her. They sat on the couch half watching a movie on TV
. It wasn’t that good. At last they turned off the TV and hurried into the bedroom.

  “Only three more days. We don’t want to waste any time.”

  Murdock had given the platoon a three-day leave. He took one day himself, and they drove into the desert. It was dry, it was mild. They took the ranger’s tour, learned how to survive in the desert and how to find water or at least a liquid if you’re that dry.

  The next day, Murdock was working with the master chief, trying to dig up a replacement for Quinley. Murdock had been watching the new Tadpole training classes. The men were getting larger and larger. One SEAL Tadpole was 6' 8" and 285 pounds. He could run the forty-yard dash in 4.5 seconds.

  “Master Chief MacKenzie, find me the largest, best SEAL you can. Nobody under six-four.”

  Murdock turned around and saw Don Stroh watching him.

  “Commander Murdock, get your hat. We have an important meeting in a half hour and barely time to get there. We’ll be gone the rest of the day, Master Chief MacKenzie.”

  Murdock hesitated. Hell, Stroh was the connection, the conduit, and the boss. He crooked his finger, Murdock and his platoon jumped. He jumped now.

  “Yes, sir,” he said and grabbed his cammie hat and went out the door with Stroh.

  The CIA man asked Murdock to change into his civvies, then they drove in a blue Buick that Stroh always rented when he came to town. Murdock swore it was the same one, but it couldn’t have been.

  “An assignment?” Murdock asked.

  “Not exactly.”

  “So what’s so important?”

  “Show you soon enough.”

  Twenty minutes later, they were over the Coronado Bay Bridge and through downtown San Diego, heading for Los Angeles. Stroh turned off to the left and headed for Mission Bay.

  “Fishing?” Murdock asked.

  “Fishing. They had a good bite this morning. The man on the desk said they would sail again at twelve-thirty. We have a lot of talking to do, and I owe you a fishing trip. We’ll rent the tackle we need and see if we get lucky.”

  “So what are you setting me up for, Stroh?”

  “Not sure exactly. We have three hot spots we’re watching. Libya has been making waves lately now that Saddam is gone. But more of that later. I called Seaforth this morning, and they had an unusual bite of yellows. Not big ones, eight to ten pounds, but a good fight.”

  Murdock brightened. “A ten-pound yellow can give you lots of trouble.” He paused. “Does this mean I’m speaking to you again?”

  “Hope to hell it does. Otherwise, it’s E-mail and telegrams.”

  Murdock looked at him. “Ten-pound yellows? You wouldn’t tell a fish story to me, would you?”

  “Swear on a stack of five-inch anchovies.” Stroh grinned and looked at Murdock. “Besides, there is also Cuba getting frisky at just the wrong time and at least two Russian-made tactical nuclear weapons of the twenty-megaton variety said to soon be on the market to the highest bidder. We hear it’s a floating sales room, but we don’t know the flag or the size ship or who is sailing her. Gives us a whole group of things to think about.”

  Murdock was thinking. “Say they had something like an old Corvette. Give you some speed, enough space, and a few weapons for self-defense. Damn, they could go into any port in the world and make a sale right under the authorities’ noses.”

  “Thought you’d like that one. Here’s Seaforth. We have ten minutes before sailing time. The cheeseburgers are on me as soon as the cook fires up the grill.”

  Murdock scowled. “Damn, Stroh, you sure this is you talking? Sounds like I’m about to get blindsided.”

  “Enjoy,” Stroh said. “Just think about that floating nuclear weapon sales room.”

  Murdock did. From now on, he wouldn’t be able to forget such a threat. He felt his blood pressure rise. He hoped they had enough data on that ghost ship to make it their next mission. He’d keep hoping.

  The fishing report at the end of the trip:

  Stroh: two barracuda, three sand bass, one Pacific mackerel.

  Murdock: three barracuda, six sand bass, four calico bass.

  “Stroh, you promised me some ten-pound yellowtail.”

  “Didn’t promise, just said the boat caught some yellows this morning.”

  “That’s as good as a promise.”

  “All right. Next trip I promise you three twelve-pound yellowtail.”

  “Promise?”

  “Promise.”

  SEAL TALK:

  MILITARY GLOSSARY

  Aalvin: Small U.S. two-man submarine.

  Admin: Short for administration.

  Aegis: Advanced Naval air defense radar system.

  AH-1W Super Cobra: Has M179 under-nose turret with 20mm Gatling gun.

  AK-47: 7.62 round Russian Kalashnikov automatic rifle. Most widely used assault rifle in the world.

  AK-74: New, improved version of the Kalashnikov. Fires the 5 .45mm round. Has 30-round magazine. Rate of fire: 600 rounds per minute. Many slight variations made for many different nations.

  AN/PRC-117D: Radio, also called SATCOM. Works with Milstar satellite in 22,300-mile equatorial orbit for instant worldwide radio, voice, or video communications. Size: 15 inches high, 3 inches wide, 3 inches deep. Weighs 15 pounds. Microphone and voice output. Has encrypter, capable of burst transmissions of less than a second.

  AN/PUS-7: Night vision goggles. Weight 1.5 pounds.

  ANVIS-6: Night vision goggles on air crewmen’s helmets.

  APC: Armored Personnel Carrier.

  ASROC: Nuclear-tipped antisubmarine rocket torpedoes launched by Navy ships.

  Assault Vest: Combat vest with full loadouts of ammo, gear.

  ASW: Anti-Submarine Warfare.

  Attack Board: Molded plastic with two hand grips with bubble compass on it. Also depth gauge and Cyalume chemical lights with twist knob to regulate amount of light. Used for underwater guidance on long swims.

  Aurora: Air Force recon plane. Can circle at 90,000 feet. Can’t be seen or heard from ground. Used for thermal imaging.

  AWACS: Airborne Warning And Control System. Radar units in high-flying aircraft to scan for planes at any altitude out 200 miles. Controls air-to-air engagements with enemy forces. Planes have a mass of communication and electronic equipment.

  Balaclavas: Headgear worn by some SEALs.

  Bent Spear: Less serious nuclear violation of safety.

  BKA: Bundeskriminalamt: German’s federal investigation unit.

  Black Talon: Lethal hollow-point ammunition made by Winchester. Outlawed some places.

  Blivet: A collapsible fuel container. SEALs sometimes use it.

  BLU-43B: Antipersonnel mine used by SEALs.

  BLU-96: A fuel-air explosive bomb. It disperses a fuel oil into the air, then explodes the cloud. Many times more powerful than conventional bombs because it doesn’t carry its own chemical oxidizers.

  BMP-1: Soviet armored fighting vehicle (AFV), low, boxy, crew of 3 and 8 combat troops. Has tracks and a 73mm cannon. Also an AT-3 Sagger antitank missile and coaxial machine gun.

  Body Armor: Far too heavy for SEAL use in the water.

  Bogey: Pilots’ word for an unidentified aircraft.

  Boghammer Boat: Long, narrow, low, dragger boat; high-speed patrol craft. Swedish make. Iran had 40 of them in 1993.

  Boomer: A nuclear-powered missile submarine.

  Bought It: A man has been killed. Also “bought the farm.”

  Bow Cat: The bow catapult on a carrier to launch jets.

  Broken Arrow: Any accident with nuclear weapons or nuclear material lost, shot down, crashed, stolen, hijacked.

  Browning 9mm High Power: A Belgian 9mm pistol, 13 rounds in magazine. First made 1935.

  Buddy Line: Six feet long, ties 2 SEALs together in the water for control and help, if needed.

  BUDS/S: Nickname for SEAL training facility for six-month course in Coronado, California.

  Bull Pup. Still in testing; new soldier’s rifle. SEALs h
ave a dozen of them for regular use. Army gets them in 2005. Has a 5.56 kinetic round, 30-shot clip. Also 20mm high-explosive round and 5-shot magazine. Twenties can be fuzed for proximity airbursts with use of video camera, laser range finder, and laser targeting. Fuzes by number of turns the round needs to reach laser spot. Max range: 1,200 yards. Twenty-round can also detonate on contact and has delay fuze. Weighs 14 pounds. SEALs love it. Can, in effect, shoot around corners with the airburst feature.

  BUPERS: BUreau of PERSonnel.

  C-2A Greyhound: Two-engine turboprop cargo plane that lands on carriers. Also called COD (Carrier On-board Delivery). Two pilots and engineer. Rear fuselage loading ramp. Cruise speed 300 mph, range 1,000 miles. Will hold 39 combat troops. Lands on CVN carriers at sea.

  C-4: Plastic explosive. A claylike explosive that can be molded and shaped. It will burn. Fairly stable.

  C-6 Plastique: Plastic explosive. Developed from C-4 and C-5. Is often used in bombs with radio detonator or digital timer.

  C-9 Nightingale: Douglas DC-9 fitted as a medical evacuation transport plane.

  C-130 Hercules: Air Force transporter for long haul. Four engines.

  C-141 Starlifter: Airlift transport for cargo, paratroops, evac for long distances. Top speed, 566 mph. Range with payload, 2,935 miles. Ceiling 41,600 feet.

  Caltrops: Small, four-pointed spikes used to flatten tires. Used in the Crusades to disable horses.

  CamelBack: Used with drinking tube for 70 ounces of water attached to vest.

  Cammies: Working camouflaged wear for SEALs. Two different patterns and colors: jungle and desert.

  Cannon Fodder: Old term for soldiers in line of fire destined to die in the grand scheme of warfare.

  Capped: Killed, shot, or otherwise snuffed.

  CAR-15: The Colt M-4Al. Sliding-stock carbine with grenade launcher under barrel. Knight sound suppressor. Can have AN/PAQ-4 laser aiming light under the carrying handle. .223 round. Twenty- or 30-round magazine. Rate of fire: 700 to 1,000 rounds per minute.

  Cascade Radiation: U-235 triggers secondary radiation in other dense materials.

  Cast Off: Leave a dock, port, land. Get lost. Navy: long, then short signal of horn, whistle, or light.