Payback (11 page)

“Impossible, you idiot. We would run out of fuel in mid-Pacific. We have fuel enough only to reach Seattle. We have food enough to feed our guests and crew only until we reach Seattle. If we sail west you will have a dead ship in four days.”

Captain Kim frowned. He had not considered the fuel
problem. He had a tanker positioned four thousand miles from his home port where he had refueled on the way east. He would stop there on his return trip. He couldn't refuel two ships.

“For now, continue north on your regular course. Cut speed to ten knots. Now take me to your bridge. We have more matters to discuss.” Captain Kim took out a handheld radio. He spoke in Korean so few could understand him. He ordered his ship's medical staff of doctors and corpsmen to get a small boat, report to the cruise ship at once, and aid in any way possible the civilian wounded. Then he and Captain Van Derhorn went to the bridge.

The liner captain saw several uniformed Korean sailors with submachine guns on the way, but he didn't comment. He was surprised to find two Korean officers with automatic weapons guarding the bridge.

“All ahead fifty percent,” Captain Van Derhorn said. “Adjust the speed to ten knots, steer the regular course for Seattle.” The Korean officers looked at their captain, who nodded. The big ship began to stir and slowly to move forward.

Captain Kim sat in the captain's chair and smiled. “This is much more comfortable than my chair on the frigate.”

“So your ship sent the Scud missiles on San Francisco,” Captain Van Derhorn said.

“Yes, and no one knew. Now they will. Did you send out a Mayday call just after we shelled you?”

“Our radioman did. He contacted the local Coast Guard and our headquarters. Everyone knows that you attacked an unarmed ship and that you are not a freighter. We watched you come out of your merchantman shell. We realized that no freighter could make twenty-four knots. Your speed gave you away. We had reported your transformation before you fired on us.”

“Then we should be seeing some visiting aircraft within a few minutes,” Captain Kim said. “When they arrive, my ship will come within a few paint thicknesses of this fine vessel. The aircraft will not be able to fire their missiles for fear of striking your ship. Or if our frigate explodes from their missiles, it also will severely damage the
Royal Princess
.”

“I was worried about that.”

“Captain, sir. I have six blips on the radar coming from the east at a high rate of speed. Estimated at twelve hundred miles an hour.”

“The glorious U.S. Air Force has arrived,” Captain Kim said. “Can you get their frequency so we can talk to them?”

Captain Van Derhorn picked up the phone, called his communications center, and gave the order. A moment later the radio chatter by the pilots came through a loudspeaker in the Bridge. The radar officer handed Captain Van Derhorn a microphone on a long cord. The pilot's voices sounded clearly.

“This is Blue Leader. We do a flyover first and inform Senora about the situation.”

“Roger that, Blue Leader. This is Blue Four. How low are we going?”

“This is Blue Leader. We drop down to five hundred for the flyover. Don't want to upset any china down there.”

“You sure we have two ships below, Blue Leader? This is Blue Six and I have only one blip on my radar.”

“We're still ten miles off,” Blue Leader said. “Could be he's hiding behind the cruise ship.”

“We have confirm that it's a frigate?” Blue Six asked.

“The report from the liner said it was disguised as a freighter. The same ship we saw earlier. They did some fancy concealment.”

“Coming up on the target, Blue Leader. Less than a mile off.”

“Blue second half, after the flyover, do a turnaround to the left, we'll take the right. We come back low and slow for a better look,” Blue Leader said. “Here we go.”

The men in the bridge ducked instinctively as the blasting roar of the six F-18's slammed overhead and vanished into the blue sky.

Captain Kim took the mike, keyed the talk button. “Blue Leader, this is Captain Kim of the North Korean Frigate
Najin 531.
You will not engage my craft. If there is any hostile military action, I will personally kill ten passengers on board this liner. Do I make myself perfectly clear?”

“What the hell. . . .”

“Who is that bitch on the air . . .”

“Captain Kim. This is Blue Leader. We can blow your frigate out of the water and not touch the
Royal Princess.
Then what would you do?”

Before the Korean captain could answer, another voice came on the air.

“Blue Leader, this is Senora. You are restricted to observation only. You do not have guns free. I repeat, you do not have guns free. Confirmation?”

“This is Blue Leader coming in low and slow. The frigate is about forty yards from the luxury liner. We could take her out.”

“Blue Leader, this is Senora. You do not have guns free. Do another flyby, obtain any data possible, and return to base.”

“Senora, that's a Roger. Negative on free guns. Making flyover now. Returning to base.”

The roaring, grinding, thundering sound of six F-18's in a tight formation made the men in the bridge duck again, even though they knew the planes were coming.

When the sound died, the cruise ship's captain looked at the modern pirate in uniform.

“Captain Kim. What are you going to do now?”

“First you are going to order up captain's dinners for me and my two men here. Then I'll go on the promenade deck and pick at random the first ten victims I will kill. Your men will use your digital cameras and take pictures of the faces of the ten, and you will then transmit them on the Internet and explain what fate awaits them if there is any action against this ship.”

The CNO, the President, the CIA chief, and the FBI director all heard about the ultimatum from the frigate commander at about the same time, 1640. Radio messages flew back and forth, secure phone calls were made, and at 1740 it was determined that there should be a night assault on the ship by two platoons of SEALs. Murdock's platoon would take down the luxury liner, roping down from a CH-46 chopper to the fantail of the big luxury liner, which was usually used for driving golf balls and trapshooting.

The second platoon would drop into the water behind the luxury liner, swim to the Korean frigate, and blow off her rudders and otherwise disable her. Both ships would be dead in the water for the night.

Word came to the SEALs through channels, and Masciareli bellowed over the phone for an immediate scramble to get to the chopper at North Island. They would take two birds and land in a baseball field in the small town of Guadalupe, just west of Santa Maria. The SEALs had ten minutes to get their gear ready and in the truck to go the six miles to the North Island Naval Air Station where the CH-46's were waiting.

From takeoff to landing would take an hour and forty-five minutes, the pilot told Masciareli. First Platoon of Team Seven would also be on the mission, with Lieutenant Joe Socha, the platoon leader. He had fifteen men fit for duty. Murdock used all sixteen of his men. On the flight one of the door gunners motioned for Murdock to go up to the pilot.
They put a headset on him, and he heard Admiral Kenner's voice.

“Commander, any suggestions for this party?”

“Yes, sir. We can't get on board silently, so we'll need a diversion. If Lemoore could send over four or five choppers to make a fake attack some two hundred yards from the bow of the liner, it would be a big help. They could buzz the area, throw out flares, and fire door guns into the Pacific. Create a lot of noise. Then if two or three F-18's could buzz the ship, it would be another help. All coordinated for the exact time that we come in and touch down.”

“Sounds good, Murdock. I'll contact the CNO. Has any attack time been set?”

“Sometime after dark. We can go in at midnight or 0200. Whenever the other assets are ready. One more thing. One squad can disable that frigate. I could use the other eight men from Platoon One with me on our chopper to take down the liner. Somebody said there were fifty armed North Korean sailors on board.”

“I'll talk to the CNO on that too. Hang in there, Murdock. I'll get back to you on this frequency.”

Murdock went back to the men and yelled out what the admiral had said.

“Help we can use,” Jaybird shouted. They settled down for the rest of the hour-and-forty-five-minute ride.

They came into the field marked by four red flares ten minutes early, and settled down on the lighted city recreation baseball field. They were five miles from the beach, and the two ships were about three miles offshore. As soon as they landed, the pilot motioned for Murdock and handed him an earphone and mike.

“Commander, this is Admiral Kenner. We have some support for your idea of a diversion. The birds will drop some depth charges as well and cause all sorts of racket three hundred yards off the bow. The choppers will fire door guns, shoot flares, and try not to run into each other. We'll have six F-18's making passes over the area, not the ship. The commander at Lemoore said he could have his chopper people assemble at the ball field where you are and coordinate everything. He'll put up his Eighteens when we have the time
set. He'll have the six choppers on your site within thirty minutes. Want to establish an attack time?”

“Set the diversion for 0115,” Murdock said. “We'll bring in the SEAL choppers at 0120. In that five minutes the deck guards should be all running to the bow to see what's happening.”

“Sounds good from here. I'll check with Lemoore. Oh, tell Platoon One to loan you eight men. Give you a little more power.”

“Any weapons restrictions, sir? We'd planned on using MP-5's with suppressors to cut down on sound and bullet travel.”

“On that basis you have weapons free.”

“Thank you, sir.”

“Commander, good luck.”

They broke the connection.

Murdock went to talk to Lieutenant Socha, First Platoon leader. He had his men outside their bird checking equipment.

“Joe, you ready for this?” Murdock asked.

Socha stood up and towered over Murdock by four inches. He was heavily muscled and looked like an overgrown grizzly bear.

“Hell, yes, been waiting. What am I going to do with fifteen swimmers around that frigate?”

“Admiral Kenner just talked to me, and said you might loan eight of them to me to take down the big ship. Be a help.”

“You've got them. Want them with suppressed MP-5's?”

“Right. Pick them out and send them over. We'll integrate. Thanks for the loan.” They shook hands, and Murdock felt the pain of the big man's grip.

A half hour later, Murdock had his twenty-four men teamed up. Each of the twelve pairs had specific assignments. Murdock and Jaybird would get to the bridge. Others would fan out and capture any North Korean sailors they saw as they took down engineering, communications, the engine room, and the guards on all of the ten decks.

“Every team knows its assignment. We don't know the names of the decks. Those assigned to clear any deck guards
work by the numbers. One is the top deck, down one is number two, and so on. When you have secured a facility, report in. Use your weapons with discretion. There are twelve hundred passengers on board and probably six or seven hundred in the crew. Let a terr get away rather than risking a shot that might hurt a civilian. It's the middle of the night, so there shouldn't be a lot of vacationers running round the decks. Questions?”

“Do we take prisoners?”

“Absolutely. We don't have to transport them anywhere. Use your plastic riot cuffs and check them for hideouts. If you find one with a radio, give me a call. We should listen in. Does anybody speak Korean?”

“Skoshi,”
Franklin said.

“That's Japanese,” Mahanani said.

“Oh, yeah. Damn.”

“Okay, flake out, you guys. We have three hours until we shove off. You men from First, you all have on your cammies, right? You won't be needing any wet suits?”

“Yes, sir,” they chorused.

“Good. Double-check your weapons and ammo. Your combat vests should be filled with regular ammo loads. If not, try to bum some off the Third guys. See you all in about two and a half.”

Murdock heard the other choppers coming. He went to the edge of the baseball field lights and waited. The first bird slanted in and landed. The motor shut down, the rotors stopped, and a short, slightly heavy man crawled out of the Forty-Six and looked around. When he saw Murdock he came over.

“Who's running this cattle call?” the man asked. He held out his hand. “I'm Phillips. This is the most fun my crew has had in months. We get to shoot up a spot on the Pacific Ocean.”

“Murdock,” he said, taking the man's firm grip. “Yeah, and if you do it right, my boys won't get their asses shot off by some trigger-happy North Korean slants.”

“Best of luck on board.”

“Thanks, and don't run into each other out there.”

“We won't. We worked it out. We'll come in single file
and stay a hundred apart, with our landing lights on. Plenty of firepower and flares all over the place. Should be a good show. This will be a carbon copy of an exhibition we put on during the daylight for some VIPs a couple of months ago. This time we won't have a shack to blow apart, just some ocean.”

The five other choppers came in one by one and landed. Lieutenant Phillips went to brief his crews.

Murdock went over, sat in his Forty-Six, and tried to think of anything they hadn't planned. It was all on paper. Now all they had to do was make it work in practice. They had taken down a ship or two before. The bridge, engineering, the engine room, and communications were the prime areas they needed to nail quickly.

He had forgotten to tell the men about guides. He'd tell them later. When the SEALs spotted any workers on the ship, stewards, cooks, anybody, they should be used as guides to show the SEALs how to get quickly to each team's assigned area.

By 0030 there had been no return call from the admiral. Murdock woke up the chopper pilot and asked him if he could get in touch with Lemoore. The pilot made two tries, then got somebody. He handed the headset and mike to Murdock.

“Lemoore, this is Murdock on the beach. Did your Eighteens get the timetable on our little party?”

“We did. This is the OD. We have the birds on the flight line and ready. They only need fifteen minutes to get to the coast. They'll be off and over your area on time. As soon as they see the flares from the choppers, they'll make their runs.”

“Thanks, just checking. Murdock out.”

The next time Murdock looked at his watch it was five minutes to takeoff. He rousted out his men and stuffed them into the bird, and saw the six Lemoore field choppers warming up. He made a quick check with Lieutenant Socha.

“We'll lift off five minutes after your two sixes leave,” he said. “Give them time to get to the target. By the time we get there it should be lit up out front with lots of racket and firing.”

“What about pickup of my men from the water?” Socha asked.

“Stay cool around the liner. We'll have the dock-level hatch open so your guys can climb in that way and won't have to worry about a chopper pickup. Tell your pilot that on your way in. If everything goes right, we can get a chopper liftoff after daylight. First we'll want to see the ship get under way just far enough so the Eighteens can take care of that frigate. After you do your job, he won't be able to follow the white ship. But we don't want him using his big guns either.”

Murdock went back, stepped into the Forty-Six, and watched the other choppers lift off and head west. He touched his stopwatch button. In five minutes they would be on their way.

The two U.S. Navy CH-46 helicopters took off precisely on time, and choppered their way across the five miles to the beach, and then slightly to the north, where they could see the hundreds of lightbulbs outlining the luxury cruise ship.

The SEALs stood in two lines along the sides of the bird. At each door lay a thirty-foot coil of rope, one end fastened to the bar over the side opening. The door snipers watched the fantail of the big luxury liner as they came up from the stern.

In front of the ship they saw flares, heard rapid-fire machine guns, and heard depth charges boom as the six choppers fought a war all their own. The snipers scanned the fantail as the first bird approached. It edged across the stern of the big ship. One sniper saw a gunman alongside a panel and drilled him with three silenced shots. He crumpled and lay still. The big chopper hovered over the fantail fifteen feet off the deck.

“Drop now,” Murdock thundered, and the first two men at each door kicked out the coils of rope and fast-dropped to the deck, then left the rope and scurried to assigned locations facing outward to cover the other men coming down.

In twenty seconds all twenty-four SEALs had hit the deck and run to their assigned positions. Only one more Korean was seen, and he ran for a stairway, but two silenced rounds dropped him before he got up two steps.

All the SEALs had the new Motorolas on. The new radios had the same belt pack and wires up to the ear, but now a new earpiece had a swing-away mike that hovered in front of the mouth or could be rotated up to the forehead or down to the chin.

“Move to assigned areas,” Murdock ordered on the Motorola, and the men charged to ladders and vanished into the big ship. Murdock and three men ran up the metal steps to the next deck, and ran forward around the pool and deck tennis court to the highest section of the ship, where the bridge should be. They hit another set of steps and went up quietly. Then they found a door that was marked in English: “Restricted to Ship Personnel Only.” It had to be the bridge.

Murdock tested the door. Unlocked. He motioned to Jaybird, who was right beside him, to take the left. He'd take the right, the way they had cleared rooms a hundred times. Jaybird jerked the door open and charged in, diving to the left. He came up with his MP-5 aimed at two Koreans who sat at a table eating. A three-round burst of silent slugs drilled into them, putting both down on the floor behind the table. One drew a pistol, and Jaybird sent three rounds into him before he could fire. There was no one else in the room.

Murdock had charged in right behind Jaybird and darted to the only other door in the room straight ahead. He tried the handle. Unlocked. He heard Lam and Ching surge into the room behind him. He motioned Jaybird up beside the next door, and he jerked it open and they charged through. The door opened on a set of ten steps that went up to another door that was marked: “Bridge, No Admittance.” The English wording had to be for the convenience of the mostly English-speaking passengers.

Murdock and Jaybird went up the steps silently and paused at the door. Jaybird tried the knob and found it unlocked. He changed positions with Murdock and jerked the door open, and the pair charged into the room, covering the four men they found on the bridge. Two were tall and brown-haired and wore the all-white uniform of officers of the ship, with mortarboards on their shirt shoulders. The other two were Korean, in jungle-print cammies. One tried to draw a pistol,
but Jaybird put one round into his chest and he went down pawing at it and screaming.

One of the ship's officers kicked the gun out of his hand and put his foot on the smaller man's throat.

“I should kill you right now, you little bastard,” the officer said. He looked up at Murdock. “Thank God you're here. They've been making our lives a living hell. Where did you come from?”