Read Online Seal Team Seven #20: Attack Mode by Keith Douglass - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Keith Douglass
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chief must have seen the careful way he moved, not making any sudden direction changes, not talking as much as usual. The senior chief had nailed him at his locker.
“Ching, I can tell you’re hurting, and if it’s none of my business, you just keep your yap shut. But if you’re not ready to go do the whole O course right now, then you and me have something to talk about.”
Ching looked up at the senior chief, his face serious and a bit grim, but he didn’t say a word.
“All right then, you’re fit for duty. Don’t think we have anything too serious set up for today anyway.”
That afternoon they had flown out of North Island and he had time to get his system functioning again. He’d kill the next man who kicked him in the kidney.
Now, two days later, the hurt was half-gone, but the nagging anger, the fury at what Kwan Tung had done to him, burned brightly. There would be a payback. Kwan might not understand that, but he would. There would be a serious strike at the heart of the tong that would make them leave him alone. If he did it right, his hit at them would make the tong steer clear of him whenever they saw him. He had to decide exactly what that payback would be, and how he would administer it.
It was 0450 in the CIC that same morning when Murdock came back from the head. The unshaven CAG had stayed the course, checking the instruments, the readouts, and the screens.
Captain Olenowski nodded and looked over at Murdock. “All right, we’re getting closer. My men tell me we’re a little less than six hundred fifty miles from the Majuro. Two of our F-14s have been stripped down of all offensive weapons and ammo, and everything that wasn’t nailed down. They can make a six-hundred-fifty-radius flight and we’ll be cutting down the distance every hour. Be near dawn in thirty, and we’ll put our two birds up heading for Majuro. If they don’t find anything promisingthere, they’ll check out eight or nine of the smaller atolls on the way back.”
“Sounds good. We guessed at the Marshalls. At even two hundred eighty miles a day, the
Willowwind
has had time to get well beyond them by now, but I hope she hasn’t. It’s been eleven full days since the hijacking. That would be about twenty-nine hundred miles the ship could have traveled. She could be heading west and be halfway to China.”
“That would make our search tougher.”
Thirty-two minutes later, Murdock watched the two Tomcats take off from the forward hydraulic rams. The sleek birds climbed into the sky and turned, heading southwest, their afterburners painting two red flames in the near darkness. At over fifteen hundred miles per hour, the Tomcats would need only twenty minutes to be over the capital of the Marshalls. Cruising the atoll wouldn’t take long. Murdock had no idea what kind of port facilities they had there. The coral heads might require a big ship to anchor well off and use small boats to go ashore.
In the lead F-14, Lieutenant Ralph J. Kleen settled into the seat and checked his wingman, “Rusty” Clover. They were in a loose formation heading for a speck of coral about six hundred and fifty miles away. Kleen had memorized the configuration of the freighter they hunted. She wasn’t exactly a standard brand. She had one large onboard crane amidships and an unusual house just in back of that. It gave her a slightly out-of-balance appearance. She was three hundred feet and had
Willowwind
painted on both sides of her bow.
“Home Base, this is Skycap Fourteen.”
“Home Base, go.”
“We’re coming up on eighteen thousand and leveling off. Speed just at fifteen forty and steady. I show time to objective as seventeen minutes and twenty seconds.”
“Roger that, Skycap Fourteen. Start your verbal report of what you see at minus three.”
“Will do, Home Base.”
Captain Olenowski looked over at Murdock. “We’ll know if our ship is there soon. If she is, what is the next step?”
“We can’t blow her out of
“Ching, I can tell you’re hurting, and if it’s none of my business, you just keep your yap shut. But if you’re not ready to go do the whole O course right now, then you and me have something to talk about.”
Ching looked up at the senior chief, his face serious and a bit grim, but he didn’t say a word.
“All right then, you’re fit for duty. Don’t think we have anything too serious set up for today anyway.”
That afternoon they had flown out of North Island and he had time to get his system functioning again. He’d kill the next man who kicked him in the kidney.
Now, two days later, the hurt was half-gone, but the nagging anger, the fury at what Kwan Tung had done to him, burned brightly. There would be a payback. Kwan might not understand that, but he would. There would be a serious strike at the heart of the tong that would make them leave him alone. If he did it right, his hit at them would make the tong steer clear of him whenever they saw him. He had to decide exactly what that payback would be, and how he would administer it.
It was 0450 in the CIC that same morning when Murdock came back from the head. The unshaven CAG had stayed the course, checking the instruments, the readouts, and the screens.
Captain Olenowski nodded and looked over at Murdock. “All right, we’re getting closer. My men tell me we’re a little less than six hundred fifty miles from the Majuro. Two of our F-14s have been stripped down of all offensive weapons and ammo, and everything that wasn’t nailed down. They can make a six-hundred-fifty-radius flight and we’ll be cutting down the distance every hour. Be near dawn in thirty, and we’ll put our two birds up heading for Majuro. If they don’t find anything promisingthere, they’ll check out eight or nine of the smaller atolls on the way back.”
“Sounds good. We guessed at the Marshalls. At even two hundred eighty miles a day, the
Willowwind
has had time to get well beyond them by now, but I hope she hasn’t. It’s been eleven full days since the hijacking. That would be about twenty-nine hundred miles the ship could have traveled. She could be heading west and be halfway to China.”
“That would make our search tougher.”
Thirty-two minutes later, Murdock watched the two Tomcats take off from the forward hydraulic rams. The sleek birds climbed into the sky and turned, heading southwest, their afterburners painting two red flames in the near darkness. At over fifteen hundred miles per hour, the Tomcats would need only twenty minutes to be over the capital of the Marshalls. Cruising the atoll wouldn’t take long. Murdock had no idea what kind of port facilities they had there. The coral heads might require a big ship to anchor well off and use small boats to go ashore.
In the lead F-14, Lieutenant Ralph J. Kleen settled into the seat and checked his wingman, “Rusty” Clover. They were in a loose formation heading for a speck of coral about six hundred and fifty miles away. Kleen had memorized the configuration of the freighter they hunted. She wasn’t exactly a standard brand. She had one large onboard crane amidships and an unusual house just in back of that. It gave her a slightly out-of-balance appearance. She was three hundred feet and had
Willowwind
painted on both sides of her bow.
“Home Base, this is Skycap Fourteen.”
“Home Base, go.”
“We’re coming up on eighteen thousand and leveling off. Speed just at fifteen forty and steady. I show time to objective as seventeen minutes and twenty seconds.”
“Roger that, Skycap Fourteen. Start your verbal report of what you see at minus three.”
“Will do, Home Base.”
Captain Olenowski looked over at Murdock. “We’ll know if our ship is there soon. If she is, what is the next step?”
“We can’t blow her out of
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