Seal Team Seven #19: Field of Fire (35 page)

Lam drifted around the tree and snorted at Cooley. “Look, Mister Hot Shit, take off your jacket.”

“Hell no. Untie me.”

Lam picked up the blade, tested it, grabbed one of Cooley’s arms, and made a thin blood line down the back of his hand.

“Take off your jacket or I’ll cut your little finger off.” Cooley’s eyes went wide and he shivered. “You ugly bastard, you’d probably do it. Hell, what you want my jacket for?”

“Just take it off.”

“He’s over here,” Cooley yelled.

Lam knocked down one of Cooley’s arms with his left hand and slammed a hard knuckled fist into his jaw. Cooley slumped to the right, then straightened.

“Okay, okay, the fucking jacket. Hey, I’m taking it off.”

He unbuttoned it, peeled out of it, and threw it to Lam.

Lamb grabbed it and went behind the tree.

“Where the hell are you?” Cooley demanded.

Lam came from behind the tree, pushed the jacket over Cooley’s chest, threw one sleeve around the tree, and caught it on the back side. Then he crossed the arms in back of the tree and pulled them tight. He tied the arms in a hard knot and faded away into the heavy growth without a sound.

“Hey, what the hell?” Cooley shouted. “Why the fuck you tie me up?” He was silent a moment. “Woodward, Johnny, you guys better get over here.”

Lam hovered in the dark green growth listening. Both the other men were to his right, maybe thirty feet. One of them came back toward Cooley, but he moved a step at a time with caution and quieter than Lam expected.

“What the hell. Where are you guys?” Cooley called again.

Five minutes later, Lam spotted the tall, thin one, Downfield, slip behind a tree and wait. He peered out, looked all around, then took three steps toward Cooley, only to step onto a dead branch, which snapped under his weight. He dropped in place and didn’t move. Lam grinned. This one had some woods smarts about him. It wouldn’t save him, but he’d last longer.

Lam waited as Downfield stepped carefully past him only ten feet away. Downfield watched ahead now. Lam moved in behind him one silent step at a time. The next time Downfield stopped and crouched to look to both sides and ahead, Lam brought the butt of his. 32 hideout down smartly on the man’s head. Downfield grunted, half turned, then his eyes glazed and he pitched forward into a patch of brush.

Four minutes later Lam had stripped Downfield’s belt off and used it to tie his hands behind his back. Then he pulled his shoelaces out and tied his ankles together with the hardest knots he could remember. Lam used Cooley’s switchblade and cut long slices down each of the black leather jacket sleeves, then slit Downfield’s pants down each leg. As a parting gesture, he used the knife again and made a two-inch blood line down his cheek, cutting the skin just enough to make it bleed.

Lam moved ten feet away from Downfield and fired
one shot from his. 32 into a tree. Then he ran, crashing brush over near Cooley. He stopped in front of him and showed him the gun.

He held it at Cooley’s head a moment.

“Oh god no, don’t shoot me,” Cooley screamed.

Lam moved the weapon to the side and shot into the tree over his head. Then he faded out of the area, got his bike, and pushed it out of the woods as silently as possible. He would have loved to stay and see Woodward find the other two. He’d untie them, scream at them for being so dumb, and then hurry them out to the Mazda.

As he came to the Mazda, Lam stopped. “Hell, why not,” he said out loud. He popped the hood and grabbed three spark plug wires and ripped them out. Cars still needed spark plug wires, even with the fancy electronic ignitions they used these days. He carried the wires with him as he started the bike and rode out to the street. He threw the plug wires into a drainage ditch and headed for Jaybird’s place. He still didn’t feel safe going back to his apartment.

Jaybird put his fists on his hips and frowned when Lam walked in.

“Where the hell …” He stopped when he saw the expression on Lam’s face. “Okay, what happened? They make another try for you?”

“Yep.”

“But you used your skills as a paid United States black operation double-covert sub-rosa killer and you dismantled them one body part at a time.”

“Almost.” He told Jaybird what happened, as they ate the Rice-a-Roni Spanish rice that Jaybird had just finished cooking.

“I bet that redhead shit his pants.” Jaybird shouted. “Damn I’d have liked to see his face when that shot went off.”

“I saw his crotch get all wet.” Lam shook his head. “I don’t like this, Jaybird. I’m tired of being a target all the time. I’ve decided I have to go to the district attorney and tell him what happened up there above Descanso. I’ve got to do it.”

“You could be in deep shit, man.”

“I know, and if that’s what happens, it happens.”

“No, first we talk to the commander, and see what he says. Let’s let him make the call. He should have a say in this.”

Lam closed his eyes and shook his head. “Tomorrow, right after we get off duty, we’ll buy him a beer somewhere and I’ll spell it out in detail.”

Lieutenant Commander Blake Murdock was feeling ill at ease and a bit anxious. They had been home a week already from Israel and they still hadn’t found a man to replace Tracy Donegan. The two men who had been interviewed by both him and JG Gardner just weren’t the type of man they wanted. The master chief said he would send three more over the next day. Murdock hated this limbo situation. He needed that man slotted into Bravo Squad today so he could get integrated into the team action, so he would be a team player. He had to know how the man in front and in back of him would react in every situation. The process was difficult and wasn’t done over-night.

Murdock kicked his feet off the desk and stood. They had to find the right man tomorrow. Enough for today. Ardith would be coming home about six. She said she waited to miss the bulk of the rush hour traffic. She worked in one of the big towers in the Golden Triangle in the University Center area. He closed up and headed for home.

Murdock had just finished his shower when Ardith walked in. He flapped a towel around his waist and met her in the living room. She was as tall and slender and blonde and beautiful as ever. More so today with the gorgeous smile glowing on her pretty face.

“I found the perfect condo,” she said. “Just perfect for us for years and years. It’s three bedrooms and on the second floor and is in just the farthest edge of La Jolla. The best part, it’s in our price range and I want to show it to you.”

“Maybe I should get dressed first.”

“Oh, yes, there’s that. This is just perfect. Not too big, but big enough for three or four of us. You said you wanted …” Ardith stopped and watched him. “You still do want one or two?”

“Yes, of course. How well within our price range is it?”

“Only three hundred and twenty, less than we’d have to pay for a house almost the same size, and no lawn to worry about or gophers, or fertilizing …”

“Or scooping snow off the sidewalks,” Murdock finished the usual patter they had worked out. “Yeah, let me get dressed, then I’m taking you out to dinner-if I like the condo.”

He liked it. The only thing La Jolla about it was the address. It was on one of those streets half a block away from the Ocean Beach imaginary boundary. It wasn’t La Jolla upscale, it wasn’t gated, and it had Fords and Chevys and Buicks in the parking garage and not Ferraris and Cadillacs and Lincoln Town Cars. The building had been there for fifteen years but had been immaculately maintained.

“Probably,” Murdock said over the salmon steak.

“We’ve got two days to decide, then he’ll talk to the other people.”

“Yeah, two days,” Murdock said. “Are you having desert?”

The next day was wet training. Murdock and Gardner had interviewed two possible candidates for the spot in Bravo Squad. Gardner was high on a kid named Derek Prescott.

“He’s big, six-three, played football, so he can take the work load, he’s a radioman second class, and he’s from Idaho. I just like the way he comes across.”

Murdock looked at the man who sat in the squad room waiting. He’d been the second one interviewed. “Okay, Chris, he’s your boy. Call Master Chief MacKenzie and tell him to put through the paperwork. He’s been in Team One, so he gets a transfer. From now on let’s keep two
SATCOMs in the field with us at all times. You might have Prescott pack the one in your squad.”

That afternoon they went for a swim. Ten miles with fins and full gear. They came back tired, and Murdock realized that it had been some time since they had done a ten miler with weapons and their equipment. Murdock put his wet suit on the drying rack and stashed the rest of his gear in his locker. Then he dropped into the chair behind his desk. More paperwork. He was just getting started on the pile when Jaybird and Lam came in. Lam had a strange look and Murdock sent up his warning flags. Jaybird carried the ball.

“Hey, Cap, got a little situation here you need to know about. Could we buy you a beer and talk about it?”

Murdock stared at Jaybird a minute. He was serious. Lam’s expression swayed Murdock. He dropped his pen and grabbed his floppy hat.

“We were thinking maybe in civvies, sir,” Jaybird said.

Murdock frowned. This was sounding more serious by the second. Somebody was in trouble here, and it probably wasn’t Jaybird. Lam wouldn’t look him in the eye. Murdock nodded and took a deep breath. “Yeah, civvies, and the beer is on me. Give me five minutes and I’ll be with you in the parking lot.”

Jaybird and Murdock drove their cars down six blocks to a bar and Lam rode his Hog, parking it between the two cars.

They set up beers and took a booth. Murdock looked at Lam. “Okay, Lampedusa. Time to come clean. I want to know what this is all about.”

Fifteen minutes later Murdock closed his eyes and shook his head. “You understand that by law you were with them, so that makes you guilty of murder right along with the other three.”

“But I never touched the old man. I got out of there as soon as I saw them start kicking him.”

“Doesn’t matter, you were with them. The law is extremely clear in this regard. Now, what the hell can we do?”

Jaybird put down his beer. “Lam says he wants to turn
himself in and give evidence against the other three.”

Murdock nodded. “About the only thing you can do. But not before you get a good lawyer, I’m talking about a five-thousand-dollar fee up front. A criminal lawyer who can bargain with the DA. What you need is total immunity from prosecution for your testimony that will convict the other three.”

“Will they do that?” Lam asked.

“If your lawyer is good enough, and if the DA wants the other three guys bad enough.”

Murdock ordered another round of beers. “Sounds like you beat up these guys pretty good.”

“We had a couple of go-rounds with them, yes, sir,” Lam said. He rubbed his face and took a pull at the beer. “This will be like on those lawyer shows on TV where they make a deal with the DA?”

“Exactly,” Jaybird said. “Let’s see, five big ones divided by sixteen SEALs is about three hundred and fifteen per man. I’ll be the collector. Now, how do we find a good lawyer we can trust, who will get Lam on the case, but not charged with a crime, so he won’t get booted out of the Navy?”

“I know a guy in JAG who can help us. It won’t be a Navy case, but he can help us put it just the right way to the civilian lawyer and to the DA so we should be able to keep Lam from being charged. I’ll talk to him tonight, and try to get a meeting set with him for tomorrow night. Will that work with you, Lam?”

“Oh yes. This is the best news I’ve had since we got home. Now if he can just keep me from being charged, and call me as a witness, not a participant, that will be great.”

Outside they walked to where they parked and Lam bellowed in protest. Three men in black leathers were trying to start his Harley Hog.

“Let’s take them,” Murdock barked and the three SEALs charged the bikers, who looked up in surprise. It was too late for them to run. Woodward whipped out a
motorcycle bike chain. Cooley pulled an eight-inch knife. Downfield grabbed a two-foot-long crowbar and the three stood there with their backs to each other waiting for the SEALs to rush them.

“I’m right,” Murdock said.

“I’ve got the left,” Jaybird answered.

“I’m on the guy in back,” Lam said. They spread out, and Lam circled the trio until he faced the man in back.

“Now!” Murdock shouted and the three charged the bikers.

Murdock darted forward, watched the fit-looking biker start to swing the two-foot-long bike chain. Once it’s started, it’s hard to stop. Murdock jolted to a stop, ducked under the swinging chain, and drove forward, catching Woodward at the waist in a pro-football-style tackle and blasting him backward into one of the other bikers. All three went down in a heap. Murdock caught the stilled chain, wrapped it around the biker’s neck, and began to tighten it. Woodward clawed at the chain with both hands, then tried a backward elbow punch that missed. Murdock surged upward, bringing Woodward with him. He spun him around and blasted a tight fist into the biker’s mid-section, then another one into his jaw. The thin man gave a little moan and passed out. Murdock let him fall to the ground and turned quickly looking at the other bikers.

He and Woodward had knocked down Cooley when they crashed backward. Cooley didn’t have time to get up before Jaybird kicked the knife from his hand, blasted another kick into the biker’s belly, spun him around, and put a half-nelson hold with his forearm around the man’s throat, pressing inward until Cooley began to cough. Jaybird eased up on the chokehold and threw Cooley to the
parking lot, where he sat on him, driving his face into the pavement.

Lam had more trouble with Downfield and his crowbar. The biker knew how to use it, didn’t make wild swings, kept it close waiting for the right chance. Lam jolted forward twice and then back when he saw the feint wasn’t working. He could see no weapon nearby to use to counter the crowbar. He bent and pulled his. 32 pistol and aimed it at Downfield’s crotch.

“Put it down, idiot, or I’ll blow your balls off.”