Ashes - Warriors From The Ashes Part 5

After some haggling back and forth, Claire finally promised Fitzpatrick and his crew a bonus of fifty thousand dollars for the trip, if they got the materiel to Mexico safely.

It was just after midnight when Lieutenant Jerry Roberts, who went by the nickname Water Dog, loaded his five-man crew of Navy SEALS into a Zodiac fitted with an electric motor. They were all dressed in rubber wet suits, and had Scuba gear ready in the boat, along with six limpet mines and other a.s.sorted a.s.sault weapons.

The moon was covered by a scattering of low-lying clouds, and there wasn't much ambient light to spoil their attack on the freighter they'd picked up on radar from the patrol boat that had carried them into the Gulf of Mexico from Corpus Christi, Texas.

The motor hummed as it pushed the Zodiac over the six-foot swells of the Gulf at five knots. Unless the men on the freighter were very alert, they'd never know what hit them.

The attack had been planned for the hours between midnight and four in the morning, the dog watch when men were typically least alert.

The Zodiac homed in on the s.h.i.+p at a forty-five-degree angle until the rubber sides of the small craft brushed up against the rusted iron of the freighter.Tommy Harris leaned over the bow of the Zodiac and affixed a magnetic clamp to the iron sides of the freighter, letting it hold the Zodiac in place alongside the s.h.i.+p as it slowly made its way through the darkness toward Mexico.

The SEALs donned their Scuba gear and made ready to drop over the side, the most dangerous part of the mission. Each man had a line attached around his waist to the Zodiac, for they were going to be working in almost total darkness 59.very close to the huge twin propellers of the freighter, which would try to pull them into their turbulence.

"Remember," Water Dog advised in a hoa.r.s.e whisper before they dropped into the sea, "we need to make sure the mines take out the propeller shaft and the rudders without making a hole in the s.h.i.+p's belly. We don't want to sink the b.a.s.t.a.r.d, just disable it."

His men nodded, their grins visible behind the Plexiglas of their masks.

This was just the sort of dangerous task they lived for, and had trained for months to carry out.

Once in the water under the s.h.i.+p, where they couldn't be seen from above, the men snapped on underwater lights and fanned out, kicking furiously with their fins against the turbulence of the props.

Three of the men swam toward the port rudder and propeller shaft, and three toward the starboard ones. Once in place, they clung to the metal like so many water bugs, looking tiny against the size of the propellers.

Limpet mines were taken from pouches and placed against the metal shaft and rudders, the magnetic clamps in the mines holding them fast.

Finally, when he saw all of his men ready, Roberts blinked his light three times, a signal to set the mines.

Each man reached up and twisted a k.n.o.b on his mine in three complete circles, setting the timers for a forty-five-minute delay.

Now came the trickiest part of the mission, trying to fight against the turbulence and return to the Zodiac. Even the strongest swimmer couldn't make headway against the pull of the big bronze propellers, so the SEALS pulled themselves along their lines toward the Zodiac.

All went well until the line connected to Harry Parrish got snagged on a cl.u.s.ter of barnacles growing on the bottom of the s.h.i.+p. When he tried to jerk it loose, the razor-sharp edge of one of the barnacles sliced through the nylon line as if it were kite string.

60.Water Dog turned his head when he heard Parrish scream, just in time to see his body tumbling head over heels through the water, unable to fight the awful pull of the propellers.

Water Dog reached down to disconnect his own line and go to Parrish's aid just as the SEALS's body hit the propellers and was shredded into athousand pieces, sending scarlet blossoms of blood that looked black as ink into the water.

The lieutenant choked back bile as he turned back toward the Zodiac and continued on his way, thankful that he'd only lost one man to this job.

Captain Fitzpatrick came out of a dead sleep when he felt the jolt as the limpet mines detonated, followed by the sudden horrible vibration that shook the s.h.i.+p the way a cat shakes a mouse.

Fitz jumped out of his bunk and rushed to the phone on his wall. He dialed the engine room and shouted, "Shut the engines!"

After slipping into his clothes, he rushed up the metal ladder to the deck of the s.h.i.+p and leaned over the aft-side rail, trying to see what was wrong with the propellers.

As he stared into the inky blackness, the captain of the watch ran up to his side.

"What the h.e.l.l happened?" Fitz asked. "What did we hit?"

"I dunno, Cap'n," Tom Johnson answered. "There was nothing on radar or sonar to indicate a reef or another s.h.i.+p. We were just cruising along when suddenly there was this b.u.mp and everything went to h.e.l.l."

Fitz glared at him. "There aren't any reefs in the middle of the Gulf of Mexico, you idiot! The only thing we could have hit was another s.h.i.+p."

"Cap'n, I promise you, there hasn't been another s.h.i.+p anywhere near for over an hour."

Fitz turned to another sailor standing nearby. "Jimmy, get 61.below and make sure we're not taking on water, see if the hold was breached."

As the freighter slowed without power and began to drift on the prevailing winds, rocking heavily as the swells. .h.i.t it broadside, the captain shook his head.

"The only thing I can think is you must have run over a sailboat too small to show up on radar and fouled the propellers and rudders," he said to a skeptical Johnson.

"What do we do now, Captain?" Johnson asked.

Fitz shrugged. "We'll just have to radio for a.s.sistance and hope we don't drift all the way to Cuba before it gets here."

"But, Captain, there ain't no way they're gonna be able to fix our rudders and props at sea," Johnson said.

Fitz frowned. "I know. It looks like we may have to be towed all the way to Mexico."

"But the port at Corpus Christi is closer."Fitzpatrick glared at the seaman. "You really want us to make port at Corpus Christi fully loaded with war materiel for an army they're at war with?"

"Uh, I guess not," Johnson replied.

"Good, then get on the horn to Claire Osterman's office and tell them what's happened. If they want this s.h.i.+t delivered, they'll just have to get someone out here to tow us the rest of the way."

62 Seven Claire Osterman was in bed with Herb Knoff when her phone rang. She reached across his body to pick it up.

"This better be d.a.m.ned important!" she said harshly into the mouthpiece.

After listening a moment, she fairly screamed, "That son of a b.i.t.c.h Raines is behind this, I know it!"

She listened another few seconds, then slammed the phone down.

Herb, his breathing slowing a bit from the exertion of a few minutes earlier, asked, "What's wrong, Claire?"

"Our freighter to Mexico has been sabotaged," she answered. "It's drifting dead in the water toward Cuba."

"Raines?"

She stared at him for a second, then shook her head. "The captain says not. He thinks they ran over a sailboat and damaged his rudders and propellers."

Herb's eyebrows knitted. "That doesn't sound very likely, does it?"

"No. I'm sure as h.e.l.l that Raines had something to do with this, but without proof, it won't do any good to argue about it."

"So what now?"

She shrugged as she pulled on a robe to cover her nakedness. "I guess we'll have to hire another boat to go and pull him the rest of the way to Mexico."

63.Herb frowned. "That's gonna be kinda expensive, isn't it? I thought the treasury was down to nothing."

She gave an evil smile. "It is."

"But, you've already promised Captain Fitzpatrick fifty grand to take the stuff there."

"Who says he's going to live to collect any of it? I cabled Perro Loco yesterday and told him he could have the freighter for his own use after it docks. All he has to do is ... convince Captain Fitzpatrick he has no further use for it.""How's he gonna do that?"

"At the point of a gun, I suspect." She left the room and headed for her desk to make the necessary calls to get someone to tow the freighter to Mexcio.

Herb shook his head and lay back on his pillow. d.a.m.n if she's not the meanest b.i.t.c.h I've ever known, he thought. He glanced down at his privates. Better not ever let her down, big guy, he whispered, or she 'II have you in a jar on her shelf.

The Boeing V-22 Osprey dropped through the clouds over Columbus, Ohio, like a stone. Inside, Otis Warner and General Joe Winter held their breath, certain the plane was going to crash.

"Take it easy back there," Captain Joe Gonzales called on the intercom.

"We're just trying to get below their radar as fast as we can."

Once the Osprey fell below five hundred feet, Gonzales leveled off, rotated the twin turboprop engines to the vertical arrangement, and the craft operated like a helicopter.

It dropped as easily as a bird settling to the ground with hardly a jolt.

"Are we there?" Otis asked, unbuckling his seat belt.

Winter glanced out the window. "Yeah, looks like."

"Here we are, gentlemen," Gonzales said as he strolled down the aisle.

"Right where you asked to be delivered."

"Clinton Army Base?" Winter asked.

64."Yeah. Intel says it's been abandoned since you guys took over from Osterman last year. Word is she hasn't gotten around to restaffing it yet."

Winter and Warner hurried between the seats to the door as Gonzales opened it and extended the ladder to the ground.

"I can give you half an hour to get your people and your gear unloaded.

Any more than that would be pus.h.i.+ng our luck," he said.

Ben Raines had supplied Winter and Warner with fifty thousand dollars in gold coin, a staff of ten men and women from the intel division to help them recruit and train guerrillas to take back the government from Osterman, and a.s.sorted communications and weapons supplies to use until they could steal or buy more of their own. Ben and Mike Post had picked the location of the U.S. rebels' new headquarters near Columbus, Ohio.

It was near enough to Osterman's base camp at Indianapolis to be of use, but not so close they'd be noticed.

Once Warner and Winter's crew and supplies were unloaded, the Osprey took off again. To escape notice, Gonzales kept it under five hundred feet until it was miles away from Clinton Army Base, and then pointed the nose at the sky and took off like a shot.

Otis Warner wasted no time. He appropriated the commanding officer's office in the base headquarters, and had his people begin setting up thelong-range radio and other equipment in the adjacent offices. They patched into nearby phone lines, using the SUSA's newest technology so their lines wouldn't be detected or traced.

General Winter, meanwhile, was consulting his files for friendly names to contact to begin building a guerrilla force to combat Osterman's Armed Forces. He had over two thousand names of men and women who'd been supportive of their own short-lived government and the peace process they'd started before Osterman seized back control of the government last year.

As he combed his files, he made marks next to the men 65.65.and women he would contact first, people who had contacts in Osterman's Armed Forces. It would be important to have men on their side who could keep them informed of Claire's plans and warn them if she became aware of their activities. The new war for freedom was just beginning.

66.Harley Reno and his team strolled back into the meres' camp, as if they'd been out for a walk in the jungle. Sergei Bergman was in his office reading over their resumes when Sergeant Herman Bundt stuck his head in the door.

"Hey, Boss, you gotta see this."

Bergman glanced up. "I'm kind'a busy here, Herman."

"I'm telling you, you don't want to miss this," Bundt persisted.

Bergman threw his pencil down and got to his feet. When he walked out the door, he saw Harley's team depositing arm-fuls of weapons in a pile in the center of the camp.

"Reno, what the h.e.l.l's going on?" Bergman asked, striding over to the big man.

Harley grinned. "We figured these were easier to carry than the men themselves," he answered.

"What do you mean?"

"Your men are all out there in the jungle, tied up and waiting for you to send someone to cut them loose."

"You mean you killed them all?" Bergman asked, an astonished tone in his voice.

"No," Hammer answered, stepping up next to Harley. "We captured all of them. They weren't good enough for us to have to kill them."

Bergman shook his head as if he couldn't believe his ears. "They were my best scouts."

67"If they were your best men, sir," Coop said, "then you're in a world of hurt."

Bergman looked over his shoulder at Herman Bundt. "Herman, send some men to pick 'em up."

"Yes, sir," Bundt answered, a grin on his face. It seemed he appreciated the audacity of this new group of recruits more than Bergman did.

Bergman stood there, face-to-face with Harley Reno. Bergman was almost as tall as Reno, but his shoulders were narrower and his muscles were leaner, like a long-distance runner's. With short-cropped blond hair and blue eyes over a fair complexion, Bergman looked like a poster-child for the Aryan ideal of Bottger's New World Order.

"All right," Bergman finally said, his hands on his hips and his eyes boring into Reno's. "I can see you people are good at tactics. How are you at hand-to-hand combat?"

Harley shrugged. "Try us and see."

"I will." Bergman whirled around and walked over to a cleared area used for hand-to-hand combat training. There was a large circular area of mulched soil surrounded by bleacher-like stands for others to watch. The rest of the meres were already gathering to see what the newcomers had.

Bergman glanced over the crowd until he spied one of his drill sergeants. He gestured to him to come forward.

A huge man, over six feet four Inches in height and heavily muscled, stepped forward. He had the face of a bulldog, with heavy brows over a nose that looked as if it'd been broken more times than it'd been fixed.

"This is Helmut Gundarson," Bergman said. "He's my combat instructor in martial arts."

Harley looked at Helmut and shook his head. "Is this the best you've got?" he asked, a sneer in his voice.

"Yes," Bergman answered. "I think he'd make a fitting opponent for you.