Part 28 (1/2)
Murdock took the handset.
”Your baby is out of the nest and flying home. You should see him at your home base in about an hour. Not sure of the speed of this windmill but I'd give him an hour.”
”Good. I'll breathe easier when the package is safely here. Then we worry about getting it back in town where she belongs. That's part of a song you may know, Dolly. We've had some more developments.”
”About the cells in Tijuana and La Mesa?”
”How the h.e.l.l you know that, Murdock?”
”Some letters we found here. Maybe we didn't tell you about them. We have names and addresses.”
”I'll look at them later. Your SH-60 should be in his LZ. Give him a call and wake him up. Then haul out of there and take those two air force guys and the prisoner with you. It's now eight-fifteen. You should be here by ten o'clock. We'll have you on the Gulfstream II out of Benito at two o'clock, or fourteen hundred.”
”Tijuana?”
”No. North Island in Coronado. We want to check your gear and get some briefings from Tijuana Federales before you hit TJ.”
”We better be moving. I'm out of here.”
”See you in about two hours.”
Murdock handed Bradford the mike. ”Gardner,” he bellowed. ”Tell that SH-60 jockey to get his rig warmed up, we're on the way with three extra pa.s.sengers.”
”Can do,” Gardner said on the net.
Sergeant Caldwell saluted Murdock. ”Sir, I hear we're hitchhiking back to Benito with you. Is that right?”
”It is, Sergeant, unless you want to walk.”
”Rather fly, sir. How far to the new LZ?”
”About two miles. Think you're up to it?”
”We'll both give it a try, sir. Like you say, it's one h.e.l.l of a lot better than walking all the way back.”
Benito Jurez Airport
Mexico City, Mexico
By the time the SEALs returned to the airport, the Skycrane had long since departed. Stroh didn't tell them where it went and they didn't ask.
Stroh talked to them on board the Gulfstream.
”First, I'm going with you to San Diego.”
There was a chorus of shouts and whistles.
”Thanks for the vote of confidence. Yes, we're going to work with the Federales in Tijuana. For those of you who don't know, that federal-sounding word is just that, the Mexican federal police. Sort of like our FBI but not at all like them. Sometimes they are loose cannons themselves. But this time we trust them and they heard about your trip into Len and asked us to come and help them wrap up the TJ end of things. We still know more about it than they do, and we'll keep it that way.
”Yes, we have hot meals on board courtesy of Mexicana Airlines. It's their first-cla.s.s flyer dinner. Not sure when we get into San Diego because we now stop in Tijuana first. We'll refill ammo for anyone who's almost out and get ready to take a bus ride into Tijuana. Our Mexican neighbors want this cleared up as soon as we can. Any questions?”
”What about La Mesa?” Gardner asked.
”Not sure on that. The FBI and the area task force are working it. They might not need us. We'll watch and wait on that one. Mexico first.”
The copilot waved at Stroh from the c.o.c.kpit door. ”Okay, we're next in line to take off,” Stroh said. ”So sit down, belt in, and dinner will be served as soon as we reach our cruising alt.i.tude.”
”Thank you, miss,” Jaybird cracked.
Stroh grinned. ”Murdock, next time we go fis.h.i.+ng, let's use cut bait. I think Jaybird's mouth would make some tasty morsels for the blue sharks.”
There were cheers and catcalls and general approval of the comeback.
Lam held up both hands. ”That's a score. I'm counting. The long-term results show that currently our totals are: Jaybird one thirty-four and Stroh one twelve. I think the old man is gaining on the upstart.”
The cheering cut off as the sleek jet's throttles rammed forward and the seventeen pa.s.sengers were pinned to the backs of their seats as the craft thundered down the Mexico City Airport runway and lifted into the sky.
33.
Tijuana International Airport
Tijuana, Mexico
The sleek jet took off from Benito Jurez Airport in Mexico City and climbed to its usual cruising alt.i.tude of twenty-five thousand feet. The pilot told them on the speakers that their flight time to Tijuana would be two hours and fifty-eight minutes.
Jaybird yelped. ”Freeze-dried tomatoes on a hamburger bun. We're two hours ahead of San Diego time. We gain two hours going that direction so we get there fifty-eight minutes after we take off from here. On the clock that is. d.a.m.n. Always wanted to get somewhere before we left. Didn't quite make it this time.”
”You're full of s.h.i.+t, Jaybird,” Wade Claymore said.
”That's probably true,” J.G. Gardner cracked. ”But the fact is he's right. If you could fly fast enough this direction halfway around the world, you could get to that destination twelve hours before you left.”
”Until you hit the international dateline out there in the Pacific and you gain a whole f.u.c.king day,” Canzoneri said.
”Enough already,” Luke Howard roared. ”Where's the food?”
”Coming at you, girls,” the crew chief said, coming out of the c.o.c.kpit. He was a first-cla.s.s petty officer and grabbed the closest SEAL, Fernandez, to help him pa.s.s out the food.
The clock showed slightly before noon when they landed at Tijuana Airport. It had been some time since Murdock had seen it and they had made some improvements. He didn't see much of the new part as their plane taxied to the transient hangars where a bus and two police cars met them. Each SEAL wore his cammies and combat vest and carried his a.s.signed weapon and double ammo. The civilian-clad Federales met them and talked with Murdock. Their spokesman was fluent in English.