Part 27 (2/2)
”He says he is. Something about a bank robbery last year to help finance their movement.”
”We'll turn him over to them when we get back to the airport.” Murdock looked at Gardner and Rafii. ”What is in the book and the letters?”
Rafii frowned. ”I'm not sure of all of it. Some is in code. But evidently these were the notebook and papers that Fouad carried. The letters are addressed to him. The notebook has a sketch of the bomb, and the three cities of choice for detonation: San Diego, Los Angeles, or San Francisco. Evidently it depended on how much trouble or lack of it they had getting over the border. They were scheduled to land at Tijuana Airport and go across at the Otay Mesa truck border crossing. They would use a truck with a fake center area where the bomb would be, and regular merchandise that goes across all the time would fill the rest of the truck. They had three border inspectors bribed. It shows their names and amounts of cash. Fifty thousand pesos each, that's five thousand U.S. dollars' worth.”
”So Tijuana was the destination.”
”There's more from the letters. They are to and from two of the cells that could be al-Qaeda operated. One is in Tijuana, and the other one is in La Mesa, right there next door to San Diego.”
”Does Stroh know about this?”
”We didn't tell him,” Gardner said.
”He must have it from other sources. My guess is that we're not quite done yet. My money is on a cooperative effort with the Mexican Federales in Tijuana and then a coop with the FBI in La Mesa.”
Murdock nodded as if agreeing with himself. Then he got back to business. ”Okay, not much more we can do here tonight. J.G., put out two guards on four-hour s.h.i.+fts. Set up the changes. Tell the rest of the men they can have an MRE and find a nice dry spot up the slope to sleep. We'll be busy enough when that flying crane gets here tomorrow. Sounds like overkill. That thing can lift half a regiment at one time.”
Murdock scowled at the prisoner. ”Give our little friend here part of an MRE and then tie him up for the rest of the night. The Federales are going to have fun with him.”
32.
Murdock woke up with a jolt. Then he relaxed. There were more than a dozen different birds calling and screeching and singing at each other. He knew at once where he was and what was at stake. He lifted up from the soft, dry forest mulch, moved the Bull Pup off his chest, and looked around. It was shortly past daylight. Some of the SEALs were up and moving.
Jaybird stood guard twenty yards away against a tall tree.
”Oh-six-thirty, Skipper. Figure that Skycrane will be here about oh-seven-hundred. Anything we need to do before he gets here?”
”Eat,” Murdock said. ”It might be a few hours before we have the chance again. Any more of the terrs show up?”
”Quiet as the inside of a mortuary, Cap. Tomblike, you could say.”
They heard the big chopper coming when it was half a mile away. Jaybird threw out a red flare and Murdock checked his Motorola.
”Crash Site, this is Crane One. You still have the package?”
”Crane One, have it and ready. You sending down a couple of sling specialists on hoists to help us get this one ready?”
”Plan on lowering two men to a.s.sist. They come with the two buckets of grease. Good thinking.”
Moments later the big, skinny-looking chopper came over. It was the stripped version with no cargo or troop pod, just the c.o.c.kpit and the six rotors powered by twin turbines. The boom fuselage looked like a long stick with a rudder and a four-bladed propeller. It hovered two hundred yards downstream, where it could drop down to fifty feet and miss the tall trees. Two men came down on slings, which were promptly pulled up. The grounded men hiked up toward the crash, each with a bucket.
Murdock met them.
”Morning, Commander,” one said. ”I'm Sergeant Caldwell and this is Corporal Broderson. Where's the package?”
”Morning. I'm Murdock. Glad you could come to our party.” He took them into the fuselage and showed them the prize. The terrorist's bodies had been dragged out of the plane and dumped out the uphill pa.s.senger side door.
The two lift specialists shook their heads at the problem. ”We have to get it up to the door, then reach in the cables and rig them on this crate, all around it if possible.”
”If not, will the sides of the crate hold the weight?” Jaybird asked.
”That's what we'll find out,” Broderson said. ”If they won't, we'll know it before we pull it out of the plane.” He went to the open door and waved at the Skycrane pilot. The big bird came down to about a hundred feet and let down a pair of cables. Attached to them was a sling made of cables that looked welded together. Caldwell unhooked the sling from the drop cables and they were hoisted back into the Skycrane, which moved off to lessen the rotor wash below.
It took six SEALs on each section of the heavy cable sling to get it up to the plane's cargo hatch and hoisted inside. Caldwell stood staring at the crate.
”Don't tell me what's inside. I don't want to know. I just have to figure out where to put the slings. First, let's use that grease and some of your men and see if we can pull this creature up near the door.”
Broderson spread the grease in front of both of the four-by-four timbers that served as the skids for the package.
”It's always easier to pull an object than it is to push it,” Caldwell said. They attached some of the cables to the front of the big crate, and ten SEALs on both sides pulled. The crate moved slowly until more of the grease came under the skids, then it eased forward until it was directly opposite the outside door.
”Have to go through endways,” Caldwell said. The men pushed and tugged and turned the crate sideways until it was aimed at the door. Then Caldwell and Broderson went to work with hammers. They broke out part of the crate at the bottom near the front and back on both sides and fed the heavy cables through and under the crate, then out holes on the far side. After a half hour of tugging, swearing, and sweating, the SEALs and the air force men got the slings in position and the large inch-thick lift rings chained together on the top of the crate.
Caldwell took out a handheld radio and talked to the pilot.
”Sir, have the package ready for a try. Slings are under the whole crate, so no problem of the crate breaking and spilling the goods. Drop down so we can attach the cables to the sling. We'll have to bring the cables inside the fuselage, then let you lift it as much as you can and ease it out the door without letting it roll down the hill.”
”I have the picture, Sergeant Caldwell. Moving now. Cables down in about three.”
The inch-thick hoist cables slithered down from the big crane in the sky, with heavy foot-long hooks that had safety clamps dangling from them. The air force men grabbed them as they eased down to the freight hatch on the big plane.
”Easy, Cap, easy, three feet more. Now we're hauling them inside and making the hook.” Two SEALs helped on each of the big hooks, dragging them inside and lifting them to the top of the crate.
”Easy, Cap. Hold her steady.” It was Caldwell on his radio. The hooks were both on the sling and the safety clamps in place over the open throat of the hooks.
Caldwell waved at the SEALs. ”Out of here. Clear back at least thirty yards on each side. Count your men, Commander. I don't want to mash up a SEAL down here today.”
The SEALs scattered. Caldwell and Broderson remained in the fuselage, one on each side of the big crate.
”Ready, Cap,” Caldwell said on the radio to the pilot. ”Move us easy at first until the slack is taken up. Aye, that's the way. Now a bit more. Right, the crate is sliding toward the door. Easy, easy! Slower. Yes. We're at the door. Now get directly over us so you can lift it straight up at the roof of the aircraft in here.”
”Moving slightly forward,” the pilot radioed. ”Yes, now. Slowly.”
”Good, Cap, she's off the floor, hold her a minute, yes, all looks right. Now ease away from the fuselage. Away. That's right. More, you can see the crate now halfway out of the craft, off the floor, not hitting the top of the freight hatch. More, another four feet. Yes!”
The big crate eased forward and upward again, fully supported now by the sling and the cables. Then the sky pilot pulled the heavy crate out of the confines of the BAC One-Eleven. It was free and clear. It swung slightly as the Skycrane put on more power and lifted it straight into the air, then swung to the southeast and headed toward Mexico City's Benito Jurez Airport.
The SEALs cheered. Murdock grinned.
”Bradshaw,” Murdock bellowed.
”Over here, sir. We're all set up and the great one is on the edge of his seat.”
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