Three of the SEALs working nearby went into a fit of crying. Stroh grinned and hurried out the door to make his radio calls.
“Think they’ll go for it?” DeWitt asked.
“Depends how much they want these Medellin people dead,” Murdock said. “And if they think we can get away with it.”
Two hours later, Stroh was back.
“I didn’t even get my chief. Small arms rounds they can’t identify. But those seventy-millimeter rounds they can. We don’t want any worldwide uproar about a big power play here. We’ll go with your guys, one Sea Knight in the dark, and hope nobody can spot it. Can we do it all in the dark?”
“Maybe,” Murdock said. He looked at DeWitt, who shrugged. “Say we hit the coast at first dark. Sixty miles to the target, which is another twenty minutes. Say three hours to reduce the luxury residence, but then we don’t have much time to do the rest of the mission in there.”
“The cooking vats, the storage, and the planes and trucks,” Stroh said. “Those were your first targets.” They looked at each other.
“What the hell is going on here, Stroh? You want us to forget the first target and take out the brass or what? Tell me.”
“That was the first thought of my chief. Then he backed off. He wants that facility burned down to the ground. We knock off the head men, they have twenty fighting to take each of the top spots.”
“So, we’re talking two days. We clobber the big house the first night and try for the production vats. We’ve done that before. Then we cut into the woods or jungle or whatever they have there and play hide-and-seek during the day.”
“By then there will be at least a battalion of military there hunting us, guarding the rest of it,” DeWitt said. “So how in hell do we take out the storage and the planes and trucks without getting ourselves killed?”
“Carefully, with the usual SEAL nerve, guts, and ability,” Stroh said. “You do this all the time. Anyway, we have no reports of any army facility anywhere near this place. It was originally built away from the military because it was illegal. So why bring in military now? I think you have a good go at it.”
“Tonight at 1730?” Murdock asked.
Stroh grinned. “Attaboy, knew you could do it. I’ll alert the CAG and get that chopper ready. You need any more toys?”
“Yeah, the rest of our supply of twenty-mike rounds,” Murdock said. He stared hard at Stroh. The CIA man lifted his brows, then shut his eyes a minute.
“I don’t know what you said. I can’t remember, but they will be on the chopper. Just don’t blow up any of your people with one of those Bull Pups.”
“No fear,” DeWitt said.
“Let’s get the men ready to rumble,” Murdock said.
23
The Boeing Vertol — built Sea Knight helicopter slammed across the Colombian coast at two hundred feet. Full dark had just covered the land, and the Navy bird with its cargo of SEALs powered through the night air at her maximum speed of 165 miles per hour. The pilots didn’t want to be over hostile territory any longer than they needed to be.
The air distance from the coast to Plato was sixty miles. The pilots had planned a twenty-two-minute flight into an isolated area ten miles outside of the small city of Plato. They were told the spot would be easy to find. It was lit up like a birthday cake, would have landing lights on a concrete aircraft runway, and there would be more than a dozen houses, warehouses, and other sheds along with a half-dozen good-sized planes near the hangars.
The SEALs were ready. Six men had the Bull Pup twin-barrel weapons and sixty rounds each. Bradford carried the big .50 caliber sniper rifle with an MP-5 submachine gun strapped on his back. Each man had two pounds of TANZ and C-4, along with the needed timer/detonators.
“We do the fancy hotel-like mansion first,” Murdock reminded the men. “When we get it cleared, we move on to the next closest target.”
“We don’t know where they are?” Jaybird asked.
“About the size of it. Not enough intel on this one, it came up too fast. We don’t have a handy satellite assigned to Plato, Colombia.”
The crew chief from the chopper came back from the cockpit.
“We’re three minutes out, so get ready. The rear ramp goes down. You guys have done this before, right?”
“Three hundred and seventy-eight times,” Lampedusa said. “Yeah, we know this bucket pretty well.”
The crew chief grinned. “Good. You guys kick ass for me out there, you hear?”
Murdock checked out a small porthole window and could see light below, then water, and more lights.
A speaker came on in the cabin. “Thirty seconds to touchdown,” one of the pilots said. “We’ll be about a hundred yards from this big lit-up mansion. Biggest thing around here. After you exit, we lift off and give you support fire with our fifties. Good luck!”
The chopper touched down with a light thump, the crew chief dropped the aft hatch, and the SEALs charged out in squad formation.
Lam had the point on Alpha Squad, with Murdock right behind him. Ten seconds after the last SEAL hit Colombian soil, the chopper lifted off and pounded .50 caliber machine gun fire into the fancy mansion. Murdock saw windows shatter and round after round jolt into the place.
“Squads front for some assault fire,” Murdock said on his radio. The SEALs spread out ten yards apart in a long line and kept running for the house, their weapons firing short bursts as they charged across the open stretch of land.
A few winking lights showed return fire, but nothing came close. They came in on the side of the place.
“DeWitt, take Bravo to the front and get inside if you can. We’ll go to the rear and try the same thing. If you get in, tell us so we don’t shoot each other.”
“Roger that,” DeWitt said. “We’re swinging that way as of now.”
The flat crack of an AK-47 on full auto sounded from the mansion.
“Anybody spot that AK-47?” Murdock asked on the net.
No response.
“Watch for him.”
Alpha Squad went to ground thirty yards from the rear doors of the big mansion. It would be the kitchen, Murdock guessed. He could see garbage cans and food containers around the rear door. As he watched, the door slammed open and four men with rifles rushed out. SEAL guns cut down two of them, but the other two dove to the left behind a three-foot-high stone wall. They lifted up and fired over the top at the SEALs.
“Get the floodlights,” Murdock said. The Bull Pup’s 5.56 rounds on two-round bursts quickly blasted the bulbs into darkness.
Murdock pulled a fragger grenade from his combat harness and jerked out the safety pin. Not more than twenty-five yards to the two riflemen. He lifted up and threw the bomb, hearing the arming spoon spin off. The M-67 sailed through the air, hit on top of the rock wall, and bounced straight up before it went off in a deadly airburst.
“Move up,” Murdock said into the mike, and the SEALs charged the rear door, jumping over the low wall and skidding to a stop against the mansion’s rear wall. Lam pulled the door, and it swung outward. The room inside was lit. Lam made a quick look, saw nothing, and charged inside, diving to the left. The small room held only kitchen stores and food supplies.
“First room rear is clear,” Lam said. Murdock and Jaybird rushed inside.
Near the front of the house, DeWitt found more protection. Three men had been on guard there as he came from the side. They fired on the SEALs as soon as they could see them, then ducked into planned defensive positions.
One guard huddled behind a rock fountain. Ed DeWitt used his Bull Pup and sent a 20mm round into the wall directly behind the man. The round exploded on contact, showering shrapnel backward on the hiding man. He bellowed in pain and ran for the front door.