“Looks like we’re done here, gentlemen,” Captain Prescott said.
Murdock stood. “You’re done. I’m just getting started.”
At 1630 the SEALs were back in the assembly compartment, fed and working on weapons and equipment. The armament specialist from the carrier had been with Dobler, and had brought up everything the SEALs and Kat had asked for in the way of ammunition and explosives.
Kat arrived with Stroh, and the SEALs cheered.
“Good to see you again, Lieutenant,” Jaybird screeched. The others whistled and hooted as Kat walked in wearing cammies that had been tailored to fit her. She grinned and waved at the men. She knew most of them.
Kat walked up to Murdock and saluted. “Lieutenant Garnet reporting for duty, sir,” she said.
Murdock chuckled. “Your salute is terrible, Lieutenant.” He grinned and shook her hand. “Good to have you on board.” He meant it. She looked the same: five feet eight and slender. Short brown hair, deep brown eyes. She had a Ph.D. in nuclear physics from MIT and a GS-15 rate in the civil service. That was as high as the ratings went. He knew she was a Scuba diving instructor, had made more than forty parachute jumps, and had won the second Ironman Triathlon in Hawaii when they let women participate. Now she ran marathons for fun.
She took a deep breath. “Murdock, I’m not sure if I’m glad to be here or not. From what I hear, this is a chancy mission. We don’t know enough about where the missile or missiles are in Tripoli.”
“True, Kat. We follow orders. We go in and see if we can find the warheads and blast them into kindling and scrap metal, then swim for home. Simple, really. I checked out an H & K MP-5 for you. I remember you like the sub gun.”
“Yes. It can come in handy.”
“Like saving somebody’s life. I thank you again for that, young lady. You do good work. How about a hideout for your left ankle, a fine little six-shot revolver?”
“Will I need it?”
“If you do, it will be too late to get one. I suggest you take it. Senior Chief Dobler has your weapons and combat vest.”
She watched him, then smiled and nodded. “Yes to the hideout. You’re welcome about the little Iran shoot-out. I’m glad that I was there at the right time and place.” She frowned. “Is this one going to be as tough as it looks like?”
“Probably. We do what we can. We don’t sacrifice half our platoon to get it done. We’re getting approval from the president to bring in missiles on the missile site if we can’t get the warheads destroyed.”
“Oh, yes, I like that.”
Murdock lowered his voice. “I don’t see any rings, so I’d guess that you aren’t married.”
She laughed, and it reminded him of earlier times. “No, not married, and I see you aren’t either. Hasn’t Ardith trapped you yet?”
“Not yet. Have you eaten?”
“Yes, and I even got three hours of sleep. I’m ready. My tools are packed, we have the right explosives all packaged ready to push fuses into. Now, I want to get off this ship and get moving before I start to get nervous.”
A half hour before takeoff, the SEALs and Kat waited on the flight deck. Their gear, in waterproof tote bags, was all stowed on board. Each bag had a SEAL’s name on it. They carried their weapons ready to be strapped over their backs on rubber tubing, and all had on camouflage makeup smeared in jagged patterns on their faces and noses, and their ears were blackened out.
Murdock came out of the Sea Knight chopper and waved the platoon forward. “Let’s get out of here,” he said. “We’ve got places to go, and warheads to blast into shards of worthless junk.”
6
The Navy Sea Knight skimmed the small chop on the Mediterranean as it bored through the just-dark sky less than fifty feet off the water. The pilot told Murdock the low course would help prevent any new Libyan radar from spotting them.
The flight from the deck of the carrier would be less than twenty-five minutes to the drop-off point a half mile offshore. Murdock had his platoon as ready as they could be. He had given Kat a quick refresher course on the Draegr LAR V, the bubbleless rebreather, then taken her on deck and she’d fired two magazines through her submachine gun.
“Oh, yes, I remember,” she’d said as she quickly dropped out the empty magazine and slammed in a full one and chambered a round.
In the big chopper, Murdock checked his watch. “Time,” he shouted at the troops. They lined up on each side of the helicopter and waited for the aft hatch to open. The craft slowed, then hovered ten feet over the water. The hatch swung downward forming a ramp, and the SEALs ran forward, stepped into space, then almost at once plunged into the cold water of the Mediterranean.
They surfaced quickly, gathered in their two squads, and Murdock led them in their underwater swim toward shore. They dropped down fifteen feet and kicked through the dark waters. Murdock used the compass board, a plastic device about a foot square with a large lighted compass in the center and handholds on both sides. Using it, SEALs can follow a direct course while underwater to their target position.
Murdock surfaced for a quick peek after a half mile. They were still offshore, and needed to correct to the left to come to the harbor entrance.
Murdock had Kat on his buddy line so he could keep track of her. There was no question about her swimming ability. She also had held up well under fire, killing at least three of the enemy on their trek into Iran several months ago. Still, he knew that he and every SEAL in the platoon would be protective of the pretty lady.
Murdock surfaced again just inside the harbor entrance. Another half mile to the ship. He could see piers along both sides of the port. He angled to the left and looked for a pier they could hide under until their recon had been completed.
They stayed underwater for another quarter of a mile, counting swimming strokes to determine the distance. Then all the SEALs surfaced. Each one had been pulling a drag bag that had a flotation device in it to make it easier to move.
Murdock pointed at a pier that had a freighter tied up to it and was in a night-loading operation. There was room beneath the pier, and the SEALs slipped under and found soggy timbers from a previous wooden pier. They hauled out of the water and rested, sure that the activity overhead and the noise of the loading would cover any sounds they made.
Murdock pointed at Jack Mahanani and Joe Lampedusa, Operations Specialist Third Class. “We’ll go recon this freighter and the warehouse. See if there are any holes in their guards and just how good they are. DeWitt has the con. We should be back in forty-five minutes. If we’re not back in two hours, DeWitt will continue the operation without us.”
The three recon men left their drag bags and slid back into the water. They were still a hundred yards from the bright lights that marked the ship and warehouse targets. Murdock led the trio five feet under the water. When they came to the lights, they broke the surface to sneak a peek.
Lights bathed the side of the ship and the pier and the warehouse front. It was two minutes before any of them saw a guard. One man came around the side of the warehouse, marched down the length of it, and vanished at the other end.
As soon as he saw the sleek freighter up close, Murdock discounted her as holding the missiles. She was in the process of being loaded, but there was no night crew. Cranes stood at the side of the big ship, and dozens of trailer containers and piles of goods sat on the concrete dock to be loaded.
The SEALs looked back at the warehouse. It had huge doors, all down the front. All were closed, and probably locked, Murdock decided. They swam to the edge of the pier, and found a ladder going up a concrete pier support that vanished into the water.