“They were on us before we knew what happened,” the President said. “They could have killed me as well. Now I’m sure they wish they had.”
The SEALs wrapped the bodies in sheets, put them on the stretchers, and took turns carrying them a mile down through the woods and past a small cabin. A man with a dozer blade on a tractor pushed the five burned-out helicopters off the parking lot.
Promptly at 0930 three big CH-53’s whupped their way up the mountain, circled, and then all landed on the now-empty parking lot.
They had found Maria Alvarez where she had fallen when the North Koreans executed her. They wrapped her in a sheet and took her to one of the helicopters with the three dead men. One Secret Service man went with the bodies to see that they were flown as soon as possible to Washington, D.C. Mrs. Bronson had found her husband’s body, and had had her men put it on the bed in the master bedroom. She would call the sheriff about it later.
“The blackout is lifted at Sacramento,” Lillian said to the President. “I just got word on the telephone. Most of the coast is up and working again, and airliners are getting serviced and starting to meet their schedules.”
Murdock caught the President’s attention. “Sir, is there anything else you need us for?”
The President shook Murdock’s hand, then pulled him into a bear hug. He released the hold and stepped back. “Commander, I don’t know how to thank you. I tried to promote you, but the CNO said if I did, they would have to bounce you out of the platoon and boot you upstairs somewhere. I don’t want that. I might try a promotion order to take effect as soon as you leave the active SEAL platoon. That might work. I appreciate it. The nation is thankful. You’re going to get a big blast of publicity about this because I’m turning loose my press secretary on it. You’ll have many visitors from the press and TV. Now, to answer your question. Yes, you may be relieved of your duties here and report back to Coronado.”
Lillian had been listening. “I agree with what the President has said. I’m just sorry I couldn’t talk my husband out of trying to fight off fifteen men with a pistol.” She turned away and touched her eyes with a tissue. “At any rate, I have a stake truck that is available to take you and your SEALs down the hill to your helicopter, if that would be all right.”
“Yes, that would be fine. And I’m deeply sorry for the loss of your husband.”
“Thank you. The truck will be at the bunkhouse when you’re ready.”
The trip back to San Diego was routine. Electrical power had been fully restored to the entire Western electrical grid, and slowly life returned to near normal. Except at the airports, which had planes and passengers stacked up so far that it might take a week to get things straightened out.
Murdock checked his watch as he kicked off the bus from North Island to the Coronado strand outside the NAVSPECWARGRUP-ONE Quarter Deck. It was just after 1500. He had promised the men they would be through for the day as soon as they cleaned their weapons and took care of their gear.
“Oh, yeah, gonna see my honey tonight,” Jaybird yelped. “Got me this hot little number down in Chula Vista…”
“Hey, no good woman ever came out of Chula Vista,” Bradford shot back. “Creepy, crawling things all over them.”
“Hooha yourself, big buddy. You ain’t never seen this little gem. She’s a keeper. Well, for a couple of months at least.”
Mahanani listened to the chatter as he cleaned his weapons, stashed them, and took care of the rest of his equipment, refilling his ammo pouches with the regular supply of rounds. Then he was across the Quarter Deck, in his Buick, and heading for his apartment. He had on his civvies, and a new jet-black driving cap with a short bill like they used to wear in the twenties. He’d heard they were coming back and he liked the way it fit on his head.
His palms were itching for some action, but then he remembered he had been cut off from playing at the casino. Damn them. Sure he owed them a few bucks. Maybe he should make enough drug runs to Tijuana for them to clear his IOU. That would take a lot of trips, like fifteen. He had only made two so far. A dozen more? Sounded good, but he had a strong feeling that before he was through, he’d get nailed by the Border Patrol guys for sure.
He drummed his fingers on the steering wheel as he sat outside his apartment. Hell, it was early. He could do a run to TJ and be back in time to catch a good war movie on TV. He turned, headed across the high Coronado Bay Bridge, and drove to the east to where the Casa Grande Casino flaunted itself near the highway.
He parked in the big lot and thought about it. A risk, sure, everything was a risk. But he’d have a clean car and not overloaded, so no reason the inspectors would challenge him. He’d give it one more try. Maybe this time he’d figure out how to nail these bastards and get them put away. How was he going to work a trap?
He locked the Buick and walked in the front door. This time he turned into the hallway and went directly to the Hammer’s office. He pushed inside and saw Harley talking to Martillo.
“Well, the hero comes home,” Harley said. “Heard about you SEALs rescuing the President up there in the Sierras.”
“Yeah, that’s the job. Can I make a run to TJ today?”
“So, Mahanani, how many of the North Koreans did you kill?” Martillo, the Hammer, asked.
“I didn’t keep track. You need any goods moved today or not?”
“He doesn’t want to talk about it,” Harley said. “He’s the sensitive type.”
“I should have called first. Maybe I can do some good next time,” Mahanani said. He turned to leave. Harley moved quickly in front of him.
“Hold it, man. We didn’t say we didn’t have no goods. Just curious about the big shoot-out.” Harley frisked him expertly, found no weapons, but it seemed to Mahanani that he searched for a wire and transmitter as well.
“Clean as a baby’s bottom.”
“Yeah, you can pick up a load,” the Hammer said. “Get down to San Ysidro now and pick up a car and leave it at the TJ garage. Then have a couple of drinks and shop or some fucking thing, and don’t go back over the border for at least four hours. The pricks down there are getting leery of over-and-back trips that are too quick.”
Mahanani stared at the Hammer for a few seconds, then nodded. “Yeah, I can do that. Another four hundred off my bill, right?”
“Right,” Harley said. “I’m keeping track. Remember to be relaxed when you come back across. Don’t act nervous or you’ll end up in Chino Prison for five to ten. Now go.”
Mahanani left the room, marched down the hall, through the lobby, and outside. The fresh air felt good. He couldn’t imagine what it would be like to be stuffed into a cell for twenty years. So he had to do everything right this time. Once more. Then he’d figure out how to turn in these bastards without getting both his legs broken and a pair of .22- caliber slugs in the back of his head.
20
Mahanani paced outside the garage. It seemed like it was taking a lot longer this time for them to get the car ready for him to drive. He sat in his Buick and waited. His Buick and the Indian gambling Casino’s Buick. How had he ever got into this goddamned fucking gambling problem? It could wash him right out of the Navy if they went to his CO. Murdock would have to write a report and that would do it.
It was another half an hour before the door rolled up and they drove the six-year-old Chevy out of the garage.
“You be good to car,” the Mexican mechanic said. “She in good shape. You drive safe.”
Jack Mahanani growled a reply and slid into the car. It had the usual camouflage. A child’s booster seat in back, a box of tissue, and a box of baby wipes. Scattered soft drink cups from Jack in the Box. Even half of the Sunday newspaper. A woman’s blouse lay on the passenger’s side.