The speaker on the SATCOM went dead.
“You must be through,” the Master Chief said to Petroff.
“Evidently. Trouble is, I don’t know a damned thing more now than when I came out here. Thanks, Master Chief MacKenzie. I still want to hear from you the minute Senior Chief Sadler hits your Quarterdeck.”
Sierra Bijimi, Africa
Amunbo River
It was night. Mojombo Washington had twenty men crammed into the powerboat that had come down the river on low power to cut down on the noise. He pulled in at a small village fifteen miles north of Sierra City, and almost five miles upstream from where they usually landed with the boats.
The men formed into a column, and Mojombo led them out at an easy jog toward the city. At the first small village they borrowed two trucks that they promised to bring back before sunup. Both were small vans with twelve-foot-long bodies, which would hold a lot of goods.
They rode the rest of the way to the northern part of Sierra City, and left the trucks a block from their target. It was a large warehouse in a section not far from the river. Originally it had been used to keep merchandise and goods coming into the country via the river on small boats. Now it had been sealed, and there were two guards pacing in front of the big truck door.
Mojombo and his best marksman settled in the grass in the prone position and aimed their AK-47’s. Both were pleased with the field of fire and the one-hundred-yard distance.
“Do it,” Mojombo said, and they both fired. The sharp crack of the rifles jolted into the quiet night and stilled a dozen nighttime insects and a nighthawk in mid-cry. They waited a moment. Then a squad of six men rushed the building, dragged the dead guards out of the light, and opened the big door. The first truck was ready, and was backed into the warehouse. Then the door was closed. Two men took the place of the guards, using their weapons and hats. In the poor light outside, they were hard to tell from the government troops.
Inside the warehouse, the men turned on the lights, and Mojombo whistled in amazement. “He’s got everything here. Food, TV sets, video players, and cases of liquor.”
He did a quick survey and marked things to take. “All of the canned food, the packaged food. Anything we can eat,” he told the workers. The eighteen men rushed around loading the truck. To one side he found two new Honda 500cc motorcycles. He pushed them on board the truck himself. Most of what he saw he couldn’t use. Dozens of pieces of furniture, recliners, dining-room sets, bedroom sets. There was nothing perishable. He found a dozen five-gallon cans of gasoline. He took those for the bikes and his generator at the camp.
When the first truck was filled, they drove it out and backed in the second. Just then a jeep rounded a corner a block away. They pulled the door closed and waited. The men in the military jeep evidently were checking on the guards. The rig didn’t stop. The man in the front seat simply waved at the two soldiers in front of the warehouse walking their posts. Then the jeep drove on.
The men inside filled the second truck with more of the food.
“Should we burn it down?” Lieutenant Gabu asked Mojombo. The leader frowned. “No, all of this can be given to the people when we take over. Let’s leave it here. Let’s move out now.”
Mojombo’s second in command closed up the second truck. They looked outside, had a go from the two guards, and drove out, with the men inside and hanging on the sides and backs of the two trucks as they moved quietly through the dark streets north.
They drove to the end of the road at the ten-mile point from the city, and there the men began carrying the goods off the trail into the edge of the jungle, just out of sight. When everything was hidden, two men drove each truck back to the owners and thanked them with three cases of food each. Then they hiked back to the cache of food.
Mojombo took his men into the jungle another two hundred yards and let them go to sleep. They would be up at dawn to greet the people taking goods to market, telling them that when they came back there would be a surprise for them.
“It will be with the goodwill of the Bijimi Loyalist Party,” Mojombo told the people who began streaming by with their carts and wagons loaded with goods to sell at the open market.
Just after midday, some of the farmers began moving back up the trail. Mojombo stopped them, and his men piled cases of food on their empty carts and wagons and one small truck. He told them they could have one case for every three they delivered as far north as possible. The farmers were delighted.
“We will remember you, Mojombo,” one elderly farmer said. He had twelve cases of food on his horse cart. “We will help you however we can.”
One of Mojombo’s men went with every four groups taking food up the trail.
Just before nightfall, Mojombo’s men had moved more than two hundred cases of food up the trail. The carts were used up to the twenty-mile mark. Then it was a walking trail. They hid most of the food off the trail and carried the rest to their camp. The hidden food would be used as needed, or it would be taken downstream to their next camp when they moved toward the city.
At Camp Freedom, Mojombo went at once to the Vice President’s tent and found the strangers. All the men stood at once.
“I’m Lieutenant Commander Murdock,” one man said. “You must be Mojombo Washington. I’m glad to meet you. This man is my good right hand, Jaybird, and over there is our motorcycle specialist, Luke Howard.”
“Yes, I’m Washington, and I fully intend to lead my people out of this wilderness of graft, corruption, and murder the present government is riddled with. I want you and your SEALs to help me.”
“Our primary mission is to aid and protect the Vice President. I don’t imagine that you’d let us take him back down the trail tomorrow morning?”
“I can’t let you do that. As you see, I have the guns and the men to stop you. No sense in your dying here in a foreign land. I want you to listen to me. Hear the plans I have for my people. You already know about the murdering, rotten, criminal element we have running our nation. I want you to help me with some ideas and strategies so I can move into Sierra City and take over the government and hold free and honest elections.”
“Mr. Washington,” Murdock said. “Do you remember your American history? It took our George Washington eight years to win his revolution. Are you ready to put in that kind of time here to win yours?”
“No. This is a much different situation. The government is holding on by its fingernails. They have used up all of their goodwill with the people. The Army is starting to become nervous and could break into pieces at any time. All we need is a few sparks and we can move this country into a new era.”
“Do you have the support of the people?” Murdock asked.
“We did today.” He told them how the people had done everything he’d asked them to do. “Today the party made a lot of new friends. All we have to do is show that we can lead them, and we’ll have a grand march against the Government Building.”
“With the Army cutting down half of them with a hail of lead,” Jaybird said.
They talked until it grew dark. The generators began, and lights blossomed around the camp and in the Vice President’s tent.
“I have some strategies that I believe will help push the President back and incite the Army to mutiny,” Mojombo said. “What can you tell me that might help with new ideas or attacks or new ways to discredit the President and win over the people?”
“The Vice President told me about his idea for you to move closer to the capital, and to solidify your support by the people as you go,” Murdock said. “You need to show control over half of the country and the villages. This way you can win new converts and men for your army.
“Staging your hit-and-run raids are tremendously effective. The Army will never know when the next might come and where you’ll hit next. You could be shooting up the military installations every three or four days. Blow up facilities, barracks, burn down buildings, shoot up transport. Kill as few soldiers as possible and the Army
brass will get the idea that you’re not after them, but the Army power.”
“Fine, until we run out of ammo,” Mojombo said. “We don’t have an unlimited supply.”
“Raid more Army ammo bunkers,” Luke Howard said.
Murdock watched Mojombo. He wasn’t satisfied with the talk. “Mr. Washington. Let us confer here for a while tonight, and tomorrow we’ll have some ideas that might help out your cause. We’ll make them as practical as possible and see if we can help set up and carry out some of the attacks. May we have a green light on that, Mr. Vice President?”
“I can give you that authorization. The White House might not agree, but they are one hell of a long way from here. Where is that U.S. Navy task force?”
“Should be a destroyer offshore sometime tonight or tomorrow,” Jaybird said. “Depends what choppers they have on board. Probably the smaller ones, the SH-60B used for sub-hunting, but we can adapt them.”
“All right, gentlemen, I’ll leave you to your conference,” said Washington.
“Ten-hut,” Murdock barked as the Bijimi Loyalist Party leader stood to leave. The SEALs snapped to attention.
Mojombo grinned. “Hey, I couldn’t even get into the ROTC. But thanks anyway. See you tomorrow.”
He left, and Vice President Adams motioned for the SEALs to gather around. “Now we get down to work. This great man needs our help. I’m convinced he can lead his people out of this quagmire the current officials have dumped the nation into. So, let’s get our brains working and come up with some great attack plans that will leave old President Kolda reeling.”
“You weren’t kidding about our being able to get in a few shots in anger against this bunch of crooks?” Howard asked.
“I don’t see why not. As long as none of you get wounded, the brass back in Coronado will never know. At least, I won’t tell them. Now let’s do some tall thinking about this problem.”
14
The next day at 1 P.M. the SATCOM stuttered out its bursts of electronics as the Vice President called Washington, D.C., and the embassy in Sierra City. When he had them both on the air, he gave them a report.
“Mojombo Washington is going to make his demands for my release at three o’clock today. Two hours from now. Ten A.M. your time. He wants the news media to listen to the demands in both D.C. and Sierra City. He says they will be detailed, and vital to his nation. He warns that he will also make a pitch for the world to swoop in on President Kolda and throw him and his criminal bunch of thugs out of office. Any questions?”
“I didn’t think you were a hostage,” the President’s Chief of Staff said. “The President is at a power breakfast right now, but I’ll have him here for the announcement. It will be recorded. Yes, we can open the transmission to the press. We’ll set it up shortly in the press room. Any idea what Washington’s going to say?”
“Not the slightest. We’ll be back in touch with you in about two hours.” They signed off.
“What’s this demands business?” Murdock asked. “I thought you were his buddy and newfound friend.”
“I thought so too. He did say one of the reasons for inviting me to be his guest here was to focus worldwide attention on his country and the sorry leadership it has now. That must be part of it. I’m sure millions of people now know what and where Sierra Bijimi is who never had heard of it before my…. visit…. here at Camp Freedom.”
“Every news service in the world carried your story big-time when you were snatched,” Jaybird said. “Right now there are about forty newspeople in Sierra City waiting for something to happen.”
“Sounds like it’s going to today.”
Mojombo Washington said, “Knock, knock,” at the tent flap and slipped inside. He carried a clipboard with some papers on it.
“I hope you gentlemen slept peacefully and had a good breakfast and lunch. I try to feed my men well.”
“Yes, we’ve been treated fine,” Murdock said. “You really going to make some demands for Mr. Adams’ release?”
“Absolutely, big-time demands. How is our time?”
“Almost two hours.”
“Radio all set up and the antenna checked?”
“All done, Mr. Washington,” Howard said.
“Good, I’ll be back later. Sometimes I like to surprise folks and start things a little early. But not this time. I’ll be back.”
At exactly 3 P.M., Mojombo Washington took the handset from the vice president and began:
“Good morning to the United States and to the world. Today we have some serious business to attend to. It’s my pleasure to report that Vice President Adams is well and in good spirits, and working with me for the freedom of my country, Sierra Bijimi.
“To further those ends, I have some demands that must be met before the Vice President can be returned to you. These demands are:
“One. Send in ten thousand United Nations troops to throw out the current government at every level and run the country until free elections can be held.
“Two. With supervision and direction by the United States, hold free and open elections within six months to elect new government officials at all levels within the country.
“Three. Deliver with United Nations supervision one million tons of food to be distributed to our nation’s poor by U.N. personnel.
“Four. Direct World Bank interest-free loans in the amount of ten billion dollars available to Sierra Bijimi industrial and business firms without involving any current government agencies.
“Five. Begin investigations by the World Court of all current government leaders on charges of bribery, theft, murder, and looting of the national treasury.
“Six. Begin an immediate airlift of small arms and ammunition sufficient to help the Bijimi Loyalist Party’s armed forces to maintain order until the U.N. and U.S. forces are in place.
“These demands are not open to negotiation. A meeting of a high U.N. official and a high U.S. official and the leader of the Bijimi Loyalist Party should take place within three days.
“These demands are made on behalf of the downtrodden and exploited people of Sierra Bijimi, and not for the personal gain of any individual or group.
“I look forward to comments and action from the United Nations and the United States. Thank you.”
He turned off the mike. “Gentlemen, I’ll be in my tent waiting for a reply.” He slipped out the flap and was gone.
“Wow,” Jaybird said. He had written down the demands as Mojombo made them. “Too much,” Jaybird said.
“He’s asking the impossible,” Murdock said. “The U.N. never has invaded a country and taken it over. Not a chance. The World Bank won’t make a single loan knowing the monetary corruption in this country.”
“So what you’re saying is that if anything gets done down here to help Mojombo, it’s up to us to do it. Me and your SEALs.” The Vice President scowled as he said it.
Murdock looked out the tent flap and at last nodded. “Looks like that’s about it. So, let’s get the rest of these plans we were working on finished so we can get into some action. I feel like I’m rusting at the switch here.”
“Now you’re talking,” Jaybird said. “First we turn on the SATCOM and see Don Stroh’s reaction and what the newspeople said.”
The moment he turned on the SATCOM, it spoke to him.
“Stroh calling Bull Pup. Stroh calling Bull Pup.”
“Yes, Bull Pup here. What’s the reaction down there to the demands.”
“The press went wild. Every phone line out of here was jammed. Big news. Kolda must have heard about the demands coming and had a man with the newsies. From what we know now, he’s launched eight to ten boats upriver loaded with troops. We have no count, but an estimation is there are about two hundred men on board. These are mostly small pleasure boats, but he’s jammed lots of soldiers on them. Tell Mojombo that he probably can’t stop this bunch with sniper fire from the river.”
Howard went to bring the Loyalist Party leader back. When Mojo
mbo heard the news about the troops coming up the river, he ran out to the small clearing and bellowed out a command.
Men poured out of tents and the edge of the jungle and from near the river. Each man had a weapon with him. They fell in what was evidently platoon and squad order.
The SEALs moved out so they could hear. “… and the word is that ten boats are coming upstream. We go to Plan B. I want a hundred men with rifles along the riverbank. Run down the trail until you see them coming. Then find good cover and fire when they are in range.
“First target the boat driver, try to knock him out. If there is a cabin, riddle it with gunfire. We have to stop them on the river. Once they get to the trail up here, we have to move and move quickly.
“I want every man to draw three hundred rounds to fit his weapon. Do it now. We move out in five minutes.”
Murdock caught up with Mojombo in his tent digging out ammunition.
“We want to go with you. Three more rifles might help. We’ll need AK-47’s. You have any extras?”
Mojombo hesitated, then grinned. “Glad to have you aboard, Commander. I’ll get you weapons. Bring your sub guns as well. We should be able to get about eight miles downstream before they show up. Then it will be target practice.”
“If they break through?”
“Then we run back up here and move everything we can carry. We had to do it once before. Let’s go.”
* * *
Two hours later, the troops rested along the river. Murdock figured they had covered nearly ten miles. Murdock shifted the three hundred rounds of the 7.62mm in the small sack on his hip. The AK-47 he had was far from new, but it had been well taken care of. He had eight magazines for it with thirty rounds in each one. The Kalashnikov had two firing rates, full automatic at six hundred rounds per minute, or single-shot. He’d probably keep it on single-shot for any distance work.
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