Alpha Squad ran through the truck-sized door in the front of the building and stared in amazement at all the barrels. They were stacked four high on steel racks along the walls, three high on the floor. Dozens were in rows with alleys between them. Enough ether to run a drug cartel for a year.
“TNAZ on three locations would do the job,” Canzoneri said.
“Go,” Murdock said. “Set the timers for ten minutes, but don’t activate them. Lam, Ching, out front and watch for any arriving cavalry. There must be some military here somewhere.”
Canzoneri picked up TNAZ from two other SEALs and plotted out his charges. He put three quarter-pounders of TNAZ in one spot about a third of the way into the building. The explosives went under one barrel so the blast would be reflected upward from the concrete floor.
The second one he put a third of the way into the warehouse down a row of three high stacks of barrels. This one he put between the containers six feet off the floor for a spread pattern blast. Again he used three quarter-pounders. One quarter-pound chunk of TNAZ was enough to blow apart the average-sized three-bedroom house.
He put the last bomb closer to the door so the upward blast would carry into the steel frames that held up barrels around the sides of the building.
Canzoneri came up to Murdock. “Charges set, Cap. Rigged them for ten minutes. I’m clear here. Haven’t activated the timers yet.”
The radios buzzed. “Commander, some native sons approach in trucks. Four trucks. Not sure how many troops. We have the fifty?”
“In a drag bag,” Bradford said. “Back by the bay.”
“No time,” Murdock said. “Activate the charges. Everyone pull back to the water. This is one fight we don’t want unless they cut us off. Go, go, go.”
Canzoneri ran to the charges and activated the timers, then was the last man out of the big warehouse. The oncoming troops couldn’t see the front door as the SEALs jolted through it and raced for the pier. Canzoneri had set a countdown watch on his wrist. He limped as he came over the edge of the rocks and underneath the rotted wooden pier.
“How did it go?” Quinley asked. He was with Fernandez, who lay on the edge of the bank. He had Fernandez’s rebreather in place and his gear all on. Murdock knelt down beside him.
“Hey, man, how do you feel?”
Fernandez looked up at him and tried to grin. “Hurting like a bitch in heat, Cap. I’m not gonna be much on swimming.”
“No sweat, Fernandez. Our job is to get you back into the wet and out the harbor.” He turned to the others. “Suit up,” Murdock said. “Rebreathers and fins and we hit the water.”
“Six minutes,” Canzoneri said. “Best if we can get off another three hundred yards or so. Gonna be one fucking big blast in another six.”
“Jefferson, Bradford, over here,” Murdock called.
They came up and looked at Fernandez. “Palm off your drag bags. You two are going to work with Fernandez until we get a pickup.”
They tucked Motorolas in waterproof pouches, grabbed their drag bags, and slid into the murky water of the bay. They knew the compass course out of the bay, dug down fifteen feet to the usual SEAL water highway, and swam.
Bradford and Jefferson took turns towing Fernandez through the dark water. Two other SEALs took their drag bags, and they all swam.
As time for the explosion came, the SEALs popped out of the water two at a time to watch. They were about two hundred yards off the pier when the first charge went off. It was partly muffled, but the blast was stronger than they had heard for a while.
Murdock watched as one section of the roof blew off and a boiling cloud of smoke and fire streaked into the sky. The second blast came before the first had finished its havoc, and this one flattened the rest of the building, launching burning barrels of ethyl into the sky like rockets, some soaring out a quarter of a mile, Murdock figured. One landed behind the SEALs with a huge splash and created a massive cloud of steam as the burning ether barrel sank, putting out the fire.
The third blast eclipsed the other two. Building on the heat and open fuel, it sounded like a doomsday bomb. The SEALs instinctively dove underwater before the compression wave of hot air stormed past them. They came up a few moments later and stared in awe at the huge fire.
Murdock gave them some time to check their handiwork, then moved them back toward the bay mouth. He had to find some dry land and take out the SATCOM. He surfaced every five minutes and found his spot on the third lift. He grabbed Jaybird going by and had him swim forward and head the SEALs to shore. Most of them landed thirty yards down the bay.
Holt came out of the water and had the SATCOM out of its waterproof housing and ready to work in two minutes.
“Home Base, this is Rover.”
The response came at once.
“Rover, location and requirements.”
“Home Base, moving down the channel to the bay mouth. Suggest pickup in forty minutes about half a mile offshore with the Sea Knight. That should be the one with resupply of ammo and TNAZ. I show the time as 0110. That would put the pickup about 0150. You copy?”
“Copy, Rover. That bird is ready for takeoff. Resupply on board. Stay due west of the bay. Copy pickup in forty at about 0150.”
“Home Base. We have one badly injured. Request change in mission after pickup to return wounded man to Home Base and continue the mission with first dark tomorrow.”
“Rover. Will consult and have word for you at the pickup. Good swimming. Out.”
Holt had the SATCOM turned off the minute the “out” was said, and had the fifteen-pound radio back in its waterproof house two minutes later. They walked down to the other SEALs, and Murdock checked on Fernandez.
Mahanani had given him another shot of morphine, and he was a little woozy.
“Fernandez, we’ve got a chopper coming. Hang in there for us. In a half hour, we should be out of the wet.”
Murdock motioned the men back into the water. Jefferson and Bradford helped Fernandez into the wet. His buoyancy in the water made it much easier to move him than it would have been on land.
They swam. Murdock and Holt led the group at the usual fifteen feet. They surfaced twice to check their position, then felt the pull of the tide stronger as they went over a shallow bar and surged into the Caribbean Sea.
Murdock checked his watch: They had another twenty minutes to get offshore a half mile. No sweat. They all surfaced by arrangement at 0120 to help them keep together. Murdock counted thirteen heads. He pulled out his mouthpiece.
“Is Fernandez here?” he asked.
“Don’t think so, Cap,” Jaybird said. “They were falling behind.”
“Lam, swim back surface and see if they have come up. Give me two short whistle blasts if you find them.”
The rest of them waited. It was nearly five minutes on his watch before Murdock heard what he thought were some whistles. Jaybird nodded.
“Yeah, Cap. That was Lam. He’s got them.”
Nearly ten minutes later, the four SEALs came up to the rest. Murdock had Mahanani check out Fernandez.
“He’s in rough shape, Cap,” the corpsman said. “Must have lost a lot of blood. Not a damn thing we can do here. He’s in and out of consciousness. Better keep him on top.”
Murdock nodded. “Ching, Dobler, front and center and take over Fernandez. Keep him topside. We’ll all stay on the surface for the rest of the swim. Anybody else hurting?” He received no response. “Let’s move, due west. Don’t worry about the time.”
Murdock put Fernandez at the head of the line. They would swim at the speed that Dobler and Ching could move him. So they would be five minutes late at the meet; it wouldn’t matter.
Murdock felt himself relax. He was at home again, in the water. SEALs always felt safer in the water where they were better than any enemy. Here he and his men were in their element. The swim went a little faster than Murdock thought it would, but they had fresh legs on the towing work.