Deadly Force sts-18

by Keith Douglass

  The two other federal officers had been writing quickly on pads of paper they had produced.

  Captain Kintay smiled. “Good. Good. It is as we had hoped and wished and prayed for. Can you and your top lieutenant ride motorcycles?”

  “Yes, Lieutenant Gabu and I both can ride, and we have motorcycles here. Did you come on motorcycles?”

  “We did. Colonel Amosa suggests that we ride out tonight to the ten-mile bridge, where we will find truck transport to take us to the Army camp before daylight. It will be safer that way.”

  Mojombo looked at Murdock. He had tears in his eyes. “It seems that we have won, that the honest, loyal citizens and the soldiers of Sierra Bijimi will at last have a chance for a freely elected government.”

  “Then it looks like our job here is about done,” Murdock said.

  “Please stay for two more days until we see what happens in the city. I’ll send a messenger up here every day to let you know how it’s going. Give us two days to be sure we can oust the President.”

  Murdock nodded. “Two or three days, we can do that. Yes, we’ll be on standby here in case there’s something we can help you with.”

  Murdock and Gardner went back to their tent.

  “So, it looks like this is about wrapped up,” Gardner said.

  “Maybe. You never can tell about a dictator like Kolda. He might have some contingency plans. He must have known that Amosa was about ready to defect. He could be in Ghana or Nigeria by now. He might even be on his way to his Swiss bank account.”

  “True, but he also might be tucked into some fortress with a hundred guards, and they’ll have to dig him out with bombs and bullets. I hope that’s the case.”

  “Let’s talk to Stroh. We’ll wake him up and let him know what’s happening.” Murdock grinned. “Yeah, about time we get to wake him up in the middle of the night for a change. Where’s his tent?”

  * * *

  Stroh came out of a deep sleep snorting and yawning. When they turned on the light he blinked, and at last saw who was there.

  “You guys crazy? It’s still dark out.”

  “Thought you might like to know the latest developments.”

  “Better be important. I was in this dream with this woman who was…” He blinked. “What’s going on?”

  They told him.

  Stroh grabbed his SATCOM and fired it up. Before he made his connection in Washington, D.C., the two SEALs vanished out of his tent and dove into their cots. It had been a long day.

  * * *

  Stroh let the SEALs sleep in until noon. Then he roused Murdock from his slumbers.

  “Hey, buddy, you awake yet?”

  Murdock kicked his feet onto the canvas floor of the tent and groaned. “It better be important, Government Agent, or I’m gonna tear your arms off and beat you silly.”

  “Yes, important. The President, is that important enough for you?”

  “I knew I shouldn’t have been so friendly with that guy. He can really get a person into a lot of trouble.”

  “Like now, rookie. The President has ordered you to go into Sierra City with two men and a SATCOM and give State a blow-by-blow description of what’s going on. They want to know if the coup takes place, if there will be democratic elections, when the embassy can be reopened. Shit like that.”

  “And if we’re in the wrong place and we get shot up into pieces by either side…”

  “You’ll get a medal and a nice letter from the President to your survivors.”

  “Thanks a bunch. When are we supposed to get into town?”

  “No rush. You should have been there by now. You’re to take the motorcycles and move in this morning, or afternoon as it is now.”

  Murdock growled, pulled on his boots, and took one last look at Stroh. “Hey hotshot, you want to come along? Maybe I can get you killed on this one.”

  “Thanks, but no, thanks. One bullet hole in my hide is enough. I’ll leave the tough stuff to you young bucks.”

  Murdock found Lam and Jaybird and told them their new assignment.

  “At least we’ll see the end of it,” Jaybird said. “What weapons?”

  There were two motorcycles left in camp. Murdock rode one and Jaybird and Lam the other one. They were surprised to get all the way to the ten-mile dock before they ran into any military. They moved up cautiously, and Murdock called from cover to a lone sentry near the dock.

  “Hello, sentry. Are you with Colonel Amosa’s regiment?”

  The soldier pointed his rifle at the sound. “Who’s asking? Show yourself.”

  “Are you in the Second Regiment under Colonel Amosa?”

  “Yes. Who are you?”

  “U.S. Navy SEALs. We’ve been helping the colonel and Mojombo. We’re supposed to report to him down in the city.”

  “We control all of this area now. My captain didn’t say anything about any SEALs coming.”

  “He didn’t know. We need to get through and find the colonel’s headquarters. Don’t shoot, we’re coming out.”

  They rolled the two motorcycles out. The soldier was surprised.

  “Wow, motorcycles. Can I take a ride?”

  “No time. We need a guide from your unit to get us through the city and into the Central Army Base.

  * * *

  An hour later they were near the center of the city when they came to a roadblock in the middle of a street that had buildings on both sides. There was no way around it. The two guides from the Second Regiment shook their heads.

  “We’ll have to go back a half mile and go around them,” the corporal with them said.

  “What’s behind them?” Murdock asked.

  “It’s just a pocket of resistance. We control most of the city now.”

  “Twenties,” Lam said.

  Murdock nodded. The roadblock was a six-by-six truck parked sideways, with a jeep on each side closing down the narrow street. The SEALs divided up the targets, and each fired two rounds from the Bull Pups. Lam’s second round into the truck hit the fuel tank, and it exploded in a mass of flames engulfing both jeeps as well. Two men ran away from the flames. The SEALs let them go.

  Ten minutes later the fire was burned down enough that the SEALs and the Loyalist men could jump over the last of it and rush on down the street.

  Mojombo laughed when the three SEALs marched into his room in the command post of the big Army base.

  “Well, you came quicker than I figured you would. I’ll bet Washington wants to know what’s going on. You can send your first report. We have more than ninety-five percent of the armed forces under our command. I’ve promoted Colonel Amosa to brigadier general in command of all the nation’s armed forces. We have two teams repairing the power lines at the substation. They should be done before dark today. We have three tanks and five hundred men in front of the Government Building awaiting the resignation of the President and his entire executive department.”

  “Will he do that, knowing that he’ll face trial for graft, corruption, and murder?” Murdock asked.

  “We expect him to give up. He has no place to go. He has no airplane or helicopter. Even his cars have been reduced to two. We expect him to give up soon.”

  “He’ll run,” Jaybird said. “How many men does he have with him?”

  “He has about fifty of his interior guards.”

  “You have all the doors covered?” Lam asked.

  “We do. He can’t get out.”

  “Are there any tunnels, secret stairways, anything you don’t know about?”

  “I hope not,” Mojombo said.

  “What about civilian workers in the building?” Murdock asked. “Are they still inside or have they left?”

  “We will be allowing them to leave ten at a time. The evacuation will begin shortly.”

  “That’s how he’ll get out,” Lam said. “Disguised as a waiter or gardener. He’ll slip past your sentries, who won’t be checking the civilians.”

  Mojombo frowned. “Possible.”


  “Describe him for us,” Lam said.

  “He’s about five-eight, heavy, a hundred and eighty pounds. Slow on his feet. He’s losing his hair. Usually wears glasses. Walks with a slight limp.”

  Murdock looked at his two men. They nodded. “Get us transport to the Government Building,” Murdock said.

  “You think…” Mojombo stopped. “Yes, right away. Oh, I will be installed by the military in the Government Building as Caretaker President until elections can be held.” He smiled. “Right this way for some jeeps and backup.”

  * * *

  Two hours later, Murdock, Lam, and Jaybird kept in touch on their Motorolas. So far they had seen dozens of civilians come out the three doors being used for their evacuation. All wore civilian clothes. A few had on their work uniforms. Two were cooks, one a driver with hat and uniform. None had matched the description of the President.

  Jaybird hit the net. “Hold it. I have four men coming. All are tall, young, with military-type haircuts. Their clothes don’t really fit. Give you any ideas?”

  “Have the soldiers pull them to one side and hold them,” Murdock said. “Even a President needs four or five guards to help him walk to freedom.”

  “Bingo, I’ve got six men about the same type and dress,” Lam said. “And just behind them is a fat little cook, with his white shirt and grease-stained pants and white chef’s hat. He’s got a mustache and beard that I bet I can pull right off.”

  “Move your squad of soldiers up and take them,” Murdock said. “I’m on my way.”

  Murdock heard the weapons firing before he got around the corner from the side door of the big building. He saw dozens of people flat on the ground. Fifty yards away six men in civvies ran toward a row of houses. Two dropped from rifle fire. Murdock heard a twenty fire, but the men had slid around the corner of a building unhurt. He spotted Lam chasing them. The commander put on a burst of speed, and sprinted down a street, and caught Lam looking around the corner of a building.

  “Skipper. They surprised us. The bastards had Uzis under their shirts and blasted the four soldiers without warning. Then they ran. By the time I got here they had made it to the buildings.”

  “They couldn’t have planned it,” Murdock said. “It had to be a spur-of-the-moment move. So probably no transport.”

  As he said it, a big car jolted out of a building halfway down the block and raced toward the corner thirty yards away. Lam came down on it with his Bull Pup and fired. The round impacted the rear of the vehicle and exploded. Murdock and Lam ran toward it. The car slued into a building and crashed. Smoke but no fire came from the wreckage. Three men struggled out of the front of the car. One was the fat cook still wearing his hat. Murdock took down the two tall men with a pair of shots for each from his 5.56. They still carried their weapons. The fat man turned. He had blood on his arm and face.

  The SEALs moved up to the wreck slowly. Jaybird charged into the scene and checked the car. “No live ones,” he reported.

  Murdock stared at the man who would be king. “President Kolda?” he asked.

  The fat man in the cook’s clothes looked up out of half-open eyes. He wiped blood from his face and tried to stand straighter.

  “Yes, I am President Kolda, and I demand to be treated with respect.”

  “The respect you showed the innocent people you killed? The respect you showed by closing the schools and stealing the money? The respect you showed the United States by stealing most of the twelve million dollars we sent you for agricultural reform? Sure we will. You bastard. I should kill you right here, but I’ll let you live so you can be tried for treason, for murder, fraud, grand theft, and a dozen other crimes. If I can, I’ll be here in time to see you be executed by a firing squad. Until then, you can think about this.”

  Murdock switched his Bull Pup to single-round on the 5.56 and shot ex-President Kolda in the right knee, shattering his kneecap and exploding the whole joint. The man crumpled into the street with a scream of agony and despair.

  * * *

  By the time Murdock and his men had commandeered a car and transported ex-President Kolda back to the Army base, the resistance was over. The remaining guards in the Government Building had come out with their weapons held over their heads. The Loyalist troops occupied the Government Building and brought Mojombo to the President’s office, and there he waited for the electrical power to come on. The moment it came on, he gave a talk to the country on TV and radio.

  At the Army base, Lam set up the SATCOM and Murdock made his report directly to the State Department in Washington. When he was through, he looked up to find that Jaybird had appropriated a jeep, and they piled in and headed for the ten-mile dock and their motorcycles.

  Back in the tent in Tinglat, Murdock made a complete report to Stroh and asked him to get orders for the SEALs. Stroh repeated to his boss on the SATCOM what Murdock had told him, and ten minutes later the SEALs had their marching orders.

  “Back to the carrier at first light in the morning,” Stroh said. “From there you will be checked out by the medics, then flown to the airport at Dakar in Senegal, where a Navy Gulfstream II will meet you for transport back to San Diego.”

  “Oh, yeah,” Murdock said, and headed to his bunk for a few hours of sleep. Next stop, the Quarterdeck in Coronado.

  29

  NAVSPECWARGRUP-ONE

  Coronado, California

  Murdock checked his desk calendar. Third Platoon, SEAL Team Seven, had been home for a week. The walking wounded had been checked over at Balboa Navy Hospital in San Diego’s Balboa Park, and returned to duty. Frank Victor was the only worry. His neck wound was not serious, but the doctors were worried about his chest. The bullet had fragmented, and they still weren’t sure they had it all out. Victor would be out of the platoon for at least two months, probably three.

  Murdock put in a call for a temporary replacement in case they were yanked out for a mission before Victor was duty-ready. Master Chief MacKenzie had sent over three candidates. The man would go into JG Gardner’s squad. He didn’t like any of the three, and three more came the next day. He picked one, a wiry little Vietnamese who was tough as old leather, could swim like a fish, and had been on top of the rung through his tadpole training. He’d been a SEAL for two years and both Murdock and Gardner liked him. His infectious grin played a big part. His name was a small problem, Vinh Lai. It was pronounced Vin Lie. They’d get used to it.

  Murdock stretched and looked at the training schedule. JG Gardner had pushed the men once they came back from their three-day leaves. They needed it. The days in Africa with little action had taken a toll. Now they started every day at 0730 with the three ups: pull-ups, push-ups, and sit-ups. They had started with twenty-five of each and now were up to sixty-five. They were on schedule to go up five more every day.

  The phone rang, and Murdock picked it up. “Third Platoon, SEAL Team Seven. Murdock.”

  “Yes, I figured it would be you.” It was the master chief on the Quarterdeck. “I’ve had two requests from the San Diego Police to talk to Senior Chief Sadler. It’s about a murder case that he was somewhat involved in before you went to Africa.”

  “A murder case?”

  “He was a witness to what the police say happened before the death. They want to talk to him again. It was at that jazz club where he plays his horn.”

  “The cops want to see him today?”

  “As soon as possible. They suggest that he come down to the Central Police Station and ask for Detective Petroff. Tell him to call first and set up a time.”

  “Consider it done, Master Chief. Thanks.”

  Murdock hung up and called on the Motorola for the senior chief to come into the office.

  * * *

  Two hours later, Senior Chief Sadler parked on 14th Street, fed two quarters into the meter, and walked over to the Central Police Station. At the big desk he asked for Detective Petroff and gave his name. A woman in uniform told him the detective would be right down, and po
inted to some chairs in the small lobby.

  Sadler had started to flip through the San Diego Union-Tribune when Petroff loomed over him.

  “Ah, yes, the globe-hopping senior chief. How is the trumpet sounding these days?”

  “Not the best when I don’t practice every day. A trumpet player can lose his lip in a rush. Have you found out if the girl died of an accidental OD?”

  “Not yet. We were hoping that you could help us find your buddy Shortchops Jackson.”

  “By now you know much more about him than I do. I just did the gigs with him once a week. I’ve never been to his apartment, if he has one, or his house. I don’t know where he hangs out when he isn’t with us. I know little more about him than some of his history and the great music he’s played. He has out six different albums, did you realize that?”

  The tall, slender detective dropped into a chair next to Sadler and stared at him from his almost black eyes. “Did you know that you’re considered a suspect in the OD murder of Joisette Brown? Why? As I told you before on the phone, you were named in her will with an inheritance of fifty thousand dollars. I know a lot of men who would do a lot of things to get their hands on fifty big ones.”

  “I’m not one of them. I never knew anything about that until that day you called. It’s not a motive for me.”

  “You did leave the rehearsal room while Joisette was still alive.”

  “When?”

  “We figured you went to the bathroom. Did you?”

  “Yes, I usually do. I told you that. My prostate isn’t all that it should be.”

  “Did anyone see you there?”

  “Of course, two cooks, three waitresses, and the cocktail girl with the big boobs.”

  Petroff stood and walked around his chair. “Snide remarks won’t help the situation. I could put you under arrest.”

  “And I would sue you for twenty million dollars. Now if you don’t have anything of importance to ask me, I am still on duty with a lot of work to get done.”