As soon as the tie-down was completed, Jaybird put both hands against the side of the ship, testing the magnets strength. They held. He put one foot against the ship’s hull, then the other one, with the magnets grabbing the metal. Then he began the slow work of going one hand and one foot at a time as he worked his way up the side of the ship. A thin nylon line trailed from his combat vest.
“Cover him,” Murdock said. The same thing happened at Bravo Squad’s location, where Colt Franklin went up the side of the ship. Murdock could see Jaybird. He was halfway up. Then two jerks came on the line, and Jaybird tied off the climbing rope. A few moments later, two more jerks came on the climbing rope.
The SEALs in Alpha Squad were lined up at the side of the ship. They allowed ten feet of free rope, then another man started up the rope. Four men would be on the rope at once before the first one reached the top.
After Jaybird tied off the climbing rope to a sturdy stanchion, he faded into the shadows of some machinery at the side of the deck eight feet from the rail. He waited. Ching came over the rail, swung his weapon off his back, and moved beside Jaybird. They were to move to the bridge, take down any civilians there, and take control of the bridge.
This was the dicey time, when half the squad was on the rope and only two of them were on the deck. Jaybird heard something, a motor grinding. Suddenly the metal he leaned against vanished into the deck, and when he looked around he found himself staring at a pair of missile firing tubes. Directly in back of that a false cover swung back to reveal a machine gun aimed directly at Jaybird.
Jaybird hit his Motorola. “Abort, abort. This thing is no rust bucket. Missile tubes, machine guns, and that’s just so far. This tub is a Chinese man-of-war, either a destroyer or a frigate.”
“Confirmed?” Murdock asked.
“Fuck, yes!” Franklin shouted into his throat mike. “I’ve got all kinds of firepower staring at me from a hundred-and-thirty-millimeter guns to torpedoes. Abort.”
Jaybird dove for the rail. The machine gun chattered and rounds slammed into the area where he had been. He rolled twice, hit the rail, and went overboard. Ching was right behind him. Ching felt a hard blow to his back, but didn’t drop his weapon. He slid under the rail and jumped feet-first into the Mediterranean below.
The men on the ropes dropped off, hit the water, and swam for the IBS. Three men remained on each of the small boats. They cut the lines holding their craft to the side of the freighter.
Murdock saw muzzle flashes from the rail above. The overhang meant the gunners had to lean out over the rail to get a shot at the side of the ship where the boats were. Murdock slammed three three-round bursts at the muzzle flashes above, and felt his craft slide away from the freighter. Somebody on the motor kicked it over, and they swept farther away from the freighter. It would take the big ship a half mile to stop.
Even now the ship slid away from them.
“SEALs,” Murdock bellowed. “Find your boats. We’re here waiting for you.”
Murdock’s earpiece buzzed. “We’ve got four in our boat,” DeWitt said on the Motorola. “One more coming on board. I’m still light by three. Use light sticks?”
“Not yet. They could have machine guns aft. Make a lovely target. Hold. We just got one more. I’m four short here.”
Murdock kept calling. Two more of his squad found the IBS and were dragged on board.
When the big ship was only a shadow in the distant darkness, Murdock broke out two light sticks, the kind you bend to break an internal barrier letting two chemicals come together and glow. He had two red ones.
“SEALs,” he bellowed again. “We’re here. Find us.” He turned to Senior Chief Dobler. “Who are we missing?”
“First two men up, Ching and Jaybird.”
“Anybody get shot on the deck?” Murdock asked.
Ed DeWitt came on the radio. “We are still missing one man. We think he was hit when he was on deck. The number-one man up the rope after Franklin. It’s Canzoneri.”
Holt came up with the SATCOM ready. “Call, sir?”
Murdock took the handset. “TAC Two?” he said. Holt nodded. “This is In the Wet, calling Knight One. Can you read?”
No response.
Murdock waited a minute, had two more glow sticks activated, and then tried again.
“This is In the Wet. Knight One, can you read?”
A response came back at once.
“Wet, this is Knight One. Trouble?”
“Right. Can you reverse that thing and come get us?”
“That’s a Roger. We’re at land base, but can be moving in five. Give us a Mugger location.”
DeWitt had been listening to the talk over the Motorola. He read off a series of coordinates to Murdock, who passed them on.
“See you in thirty-two. A parachute red flare would be helpful.”
“Can do, Knight One. In thirty-two.”
Murdock signed off, told Holt to keep the channel open to receive, and looked out at the gentle Mediterranean. He was glad there was no bad weather.
“Call out, you guys, make some racket. We have thirty minutes to find our last three men. We will not leave anyone behind.”
11
Murdock took out his night-vision goggles and kept scanning the swells around them. Dark water that looked green in the night viewing. He thought he saw something to the left. No, only a swell that formed a small whitecap on top. Just what they didn’t need, a rising sea.
He quartered one area, then another, working all the way around the IBS. The two boats were still tied together.
“We’ve found a man,” the Motorola said. It was De Witt. “Not sure who it is yet.”
Murdock kept looking. Every man in the boat checked harder to find any sign of their two lost men.
“It’s Ching,” DeWitt said on the radio. “He’s got a wound in the upper chest. Not sure how bad it is. We’ll stop the bleeding. We still need two men.”
“Jaybird and Canzoneri,” Murdock said. Both had been on deck of the craft when the shooting started. Sitting ducks. Jaybird had said the ship was a Naval vessel? Franklin said there was all sorts of firepower around, including a 130mm gun and torpedoes. Jaybird had mentioned missile tubes and machine guns.
“Better tell somebody that ship is a Chinese destroyer,” DeWitt said. “She’s camouflaged, but now her cover is blown.”
Murdock used his binoculars and stared the way the Chinese ship had vanished. “If she’s a destroyer, she’ll be coming back to clean up,” Murdock said on the mike. “Let’s get those two men.”
“The men we’ve recovered so far have all been ahead of us, down the path of the freighter,” Senior Chief Dobler said. “Let’s power up and move that way a hundred yards.”
Murdock nodded. “Do it. Tell the other boat.”
They motored ahead slowly, watching new territory.
“Swimmer to port,” somebody called. DeWitt’s boat was leading and he powered that way. A moment later he reported.
“We’ve got Jaybird. Looks like he’s got a dislocated shoulder. No gunfire wounds.”
“Good. Now let’s find Canzoneri.”
They kept moving slowly forward. Then a light stick in green glowed just over the swells well ahead of them, vanishing now and then, but soon showing again.
“To starboard, light stick,” Murdock shouted. The boats motored that way, losing the light stick, then finding it at the top of the next swell. Murdock’s boat got to him first. They dragged Canzoneri into the boat, and then saw that the light stick was jammed in the shoulder section of the combat vest. Canzoneri was not breathing.
Mahanani laid him as flat as they could get him in the craft and did mouth-to-mouth CPR. Three minutes, then four, Mahanani kept it up.
Then Canzoneri heaved upward as vomit and seawater exploded out of his mouth, drenching Mahanani.