He used the Motorola. “Okay, we spread out and move into the area. We take out any guards with silenced shots if we have to. If they surrender, we put them down and cuff wrists and ankles. I think we’re about ready to move out.”
A new generator kicked in somewhere ahead of them. In an instant the entire three sides of the cocaine factory showed brilliant pink bars of light.
“It’s a three-bar high laser fence,” DeWitt chirped into the Motorola. “What the hell are we going to do now?”
16
“How far away from us is that laser fence?” Murdock asked.
“Maybe fifty yards,” Lam said in his Motorola. “Look, it’s just a warning laser. I’ll go up there and break the beam, and we’ll see what happens.”
“Go,” Murdock said. “Everyone else, let’s move up slowly. Stay out of the beam until we see what their reaction is.”
Lam fisted his MP-5, brought it up to port arms, and ran forward. He came to the beam and ran through it, then back and through it again before he went prone. The beam snapped off when it was broken, then came back on and snapped off again and stayed off.
A siren wailed somewhere among the buildings.
The beam remained off only where it had been broken. The rest of the sectors remained a three-strand pink glow. Murdock heard an engine snarl, then race, and he knew it was the motorcycle.
“The bike is coming. Lam, take him out with a silenced round, then we all surge forward and move in five yards apart.”
They waited.
A moment later, the single beam of the motorcycle’s headlight cut through the night, bouncing toward the fence break where Lam lay. The bike came directly for the spot and bounced over a ditch of some kind. They heard the rider swearing. Then the headlamp’s beam grazed across Lam, and the rider shouted what could have been a warning.
Lam’s three-round burst from the silenced MP-5 jolted the rider out of the seat, exploded the headlight, and sent the bike into a spin to the side where the engine coughed and died.
“Let’s go forward,” Murdock said into his lip mike, and the fifteen SEALs and their three locals surged across the field, rushed through more sections of the barrier, and came to Lam. He checked the bike rider. Dead. He jumped up and ran with the others forward toward the low-lying buildings.
Murdock heard loud voices near one shed, then he saw the muzzle flashes of at least three guns and heard the hot lead streak past him well over his head.
Six SEALs fired at the flashes, and they heard one loud cry, then the dark shadows ran behind the building.
Murdock pulled the three-cell flashlight from his webbing. Each SEAL had one for this mission. They were tied to the webbing on a stretch cord.
“Ed, move your squad into that first building and clear it. We’re on backup.”
The Bravo Squad surged forward. Quinley opened the door and jolted to one side. No shots came through. He poked his flash around the doorjamb and looked where the beam went. It looked like a storage area. Sacks and bales and boxes.
“Clear first building,” he said.
Ed DeWitt came up beside him and confirmed. “Yes, first building clear.”
The line of SEALs swung to the left and advanced on the next structure. It was an open-sided shed with a floor built up two feet off the ground. Inside they found twenty large plastic garbage cans with covers in place.
Captain Herrera opened one and confirmed. “Coca paste. The raw stuff waiting to be processed. No people here.”
Bill Bradford heard the captain and repeated his words over the Motorola.
Just as they swung around the second building, gunfire erupted from the shadows around the third structure.
“Cover,” Murdock snapped into the Motorola. The SEALs dove to the ground and returned fire. Within seconds, two hundred rounds slammed into the area where the guards had fired. They heard one scream over the gunfire, then the muzzle flashes slowed and stopped ahead.
“Hold fire,” Murdock said into the radio.
A moment later, all was quiet.
“Holt, Ching, check them out. See if any of them are still alive up there.”
Two forms lifted off the ground and zigzagged on a run the thirty yards to the next building. They went to the ground at the spot and found two bodies.
“Two dead here, and two extra rifles. Look like AK-47s. Holding.”
“Move up,” Murdock said, and the SEALs surged forward to the near side of the building. “Ronson, Sterling, check inside.”
Ronson rushed to the door, turned the knob, and pushed it inward as he twisted away from the opening. No shots came though. He dropped to the ground and shone his flash through the door from the floor level.
“Cap, looks like a barracks. Lots of people in there. Better get a Spanish speaker up here.”
Murdock sent one of the Colombian sergeants to the door, and he began shouting in Spanish.
“Move around it to the next building,” Murdock said. “Easy. They must have some more guns here somewhere.”
The line of SEALs moved around each end of the barracks and forward. In front of them they saw in the dim light an open space where two trucks were parked. Beyond that was what looked like an office building. It was better made than the rest with glass windows and a chimney. It also was built two feet off the ground.
Without warning, a weapon on full automatic cut loose in front of the building, spraying bullets in their direction, but most of them went over the SEALs’ heads. They hit the ground and returned fire. The automatic fire ceased, and a door slammed.
“Move up slowly,” Murdock ordered. “Who has a Willy Peter?”
“Got me one,” Holt said on the Motorola.
“Get up there and put it through that window. Bravo Squad, move around to the back to cover any rear entrance. Go, Holt.”
Holt ran forward, pulled the pin on the white phosphorous grenade, and threw it through a two-foot-square window. Four seconds later, they heard the pop as the grenade went off, then saw the streamers of furiously burning white phosphorus through the broken window.
Inside, somebody screamed. When exposed to air, white phosphorus burns instantly and so hot that it burns through cloth, flesh, and even bones. It is impossible to put out and usually creates an instant fire when used in a building.
Less than a minute after the WP grenade exploded, the SEALs saw fire taking hold of the all-wooden building.
Ed DeWitt reported from the rear of the place. “We have three men coming out the back. None seem armed.”
“Capture them,” Murdock snapped.
DeWitt fired over the men’s heads. Miguel Fernandez had heard the orders from the platoon leader, and he bellowed at the startled men in Spanish.
“Hold it right there, or you’re dead meat. Hands up and stand still.” Fernandez fired over their heads, then ran up with two other SEALs and put plastic cuffs on their wrists and ankles. Fernandez told them not to move if they wanted to stay alive.
“Any of you Jaime Leal?” Fernandez asked in Spanish.
All three denied that they were the lab boss.
“Secure here, Commander,” DeWitt reported.
The rest of the SEALs came around the burning building. It was about twenty by thirty feet, and soon fire shot out the windows. They moved quickly to get out of the firelight. Ahead were two more buildings, larger than the rest.
They heard a generator purring contentedly and saw low-level lights in the first building.
“Night shift?” Murdock wondered on the net. He saw two doors, one at the side and the other at the front. This building was better made than the others and had sides and what looked like a good roof.
Murdock worked his way to the side of the place, then forward to the door. It had no windows. He touched the door and felt it give. Not locked. “Dobler, Ching, Lam. On me at the door, now.”