Magic Brown snorted. "Hell, little scratch like that won't slow me down none. Got me some work to do. We still got to get that fucking ship back in U.S. hands."
The corpsman grinned.
Murdock shrugged. "Hey, he's not your ordinary sailor. This man's a SEAL. Usually bullets bounce off Brown. Don't know what happened this time."
Magic Brown gave Murdock a thumbs-up. Then the morphine worked its magic and he dozed.
In the middle chopper, a corpsman looked over two slightly wounded embassy people. Nothing serious. Then he checked Underhill's arm. "Sir, have you had any medication?"
"No. None available."
"I'll give you a shot of morphine. That's a serious arm wound. We'll have the doctors ready for you when we get in. A little under two hours and we'll have you on board the carrier. Your other people are all in good shape. About half of them are sleeping."
First Secretary and Acting Ambassador to Kenya Frank Underhill nodded wearily. He hardly felt the injection. So many of the embassy people had died. They had to go back and get them. Had to. They just had to. America didn't leave its dead for the butchers to desecrate. Had to go back and get them.
Then he slept.
9
Six of the hostages needed medical attention, but First Secretary Frank Underhill was not among them. He was in the Carrier Intelligence Center talking by SATCOM to the State Department in Washington. He told them what had happened, and how the Ambassador had been murdered. He asked for instructions.
Below in the hospital, Murdock watched the doctor treat Magic Brown's leg wound.
"The round missed the bone, which is good," the doctor said. "I'd suggest at least a week of limited duty. That means stay off that leg until it gets a chance to do some healing. You're a SEAL?"
"Yes, sir."
"Then you're grounded for two weeks." The doctor nodded at Murdock, who was still in his dirty cammies, and left.
"Two weeks?" Brown asked. "He's got to be kidding. When do we go back after that ship?"
"Not sure, but the ship won't be next. We've got a hundred and sixty sailors somewhere in a jail. State still has some contacts in the Mombasa area. They're trying to find out where the colonel stashed our guys. Then we move."
"I'll be ready by morning," Brown said. He shook his head and blinked. "They give me a shot?"
Murdock grinned. "Something's got to knock you out. You have a good sleep, and we'll talk tomorrow."
The hostages had been given quarters, showers, clean uniforms if they wanted them, and the option of having dinner or sleeping. All but one went for the midnight supper. Murdock's men were fed in the crew mess, and then hit their own berths.
Murdock went topside with Don Stroh to find out if they had an intel yet on where the crewmen were being held in Mombasa.
Stroh leaned back in a chair and scowled. "Murdock you look like hell warmed over. How long you been up now, thirty-six or forty-eight hours?"
"Long enough. Any news from Mombasa?"
"State made contact with a newsman there they use now and then. He has a SATCOM radio. Said he warned State about the coup almost thirty-six hours before it happened. He's trying to find out where the sailors are. Most likely in the Indian Ocean Prison on the outskirts of Mombasa. Remember, that's a big town, over six hundred thousand."
"He give any time when he might have the information?"
"Said he just didn't know. Might be a few hours, might be two days. He doesn't want the colonel to come calling and blow his head off."
"Right. We can use some sleep anyway, and some more food in the morning. You wake me up the minute we know the location so we can start planning."
"Choppers again?"
"Not sure. Depends how far from the bay it is. We can get ashore in the IBSS. But if it's ten miles to the lockup, we don't want to walk. We'll see. Remember, give me a call if you get the location."
Murdock found his sleeping quarters, showered, and flaked out on the bunk. He was sleeping before he knew it.
Murdock got up, showered, ate dinner, and then went to the room that Don Stroh had taken over as his headquarters. The CIA man worked on a third cup of coffee.
"Nothing yet. Hey, it's been slow over there on-shore. He should get something tonight. D.C. said he'd give us a call here direct."
Murdock waved. "Going to check on my men."
He found them cleaning weapons, checking equipment, and grousing about it. Jaybird had them toeing the line. Ed DeWitt came in with a sour expression and a cup of coffee.
"Don't think I slept an hour. I kept seeing those two women that the colonel slaughtered. He's got to go down. Wouldn't mind doing that job myself."
Murdock agreed with him, then brought the men up to date on the next step.
"The crew off the Turner is our next target. We're not sure yet where they are or how we go get them. We have the IBSs and all the choppers we need. There must be some fast launches we could call on too for close-in work in that bay. First, we need more information."
"How's Magic?" Fernandez asked.
"Mean and lean. I'm surprised he isn't down here."
"I checked him this morning," Lieutenant DeWitt said. "He was boiling because they took away his uniform. He's only got that little white robe that ties in back." The men roared with laughter imagining Magic making his escape bare-assed.
"Think he'll be with us on the next op?" Jaybird asked.
"The round took about two inches of meat, missed the bone. If Brown can walk, we'll play hell to breakfast to keep him out of the next run. We'll wait and see. Lot depends how soon we saddle up."
"We could start some planning," Jaybird said. "Like what we do if the place they have the guys is right on the bay, or if it's five miles inland."
"Shoot," Murdock said.
For the next hour they kicked around ideas about what to do and how to do it. It could all be wasted effort, or they might have a foundation to work on when the word came down.
A half hour later Don Stroh came into the big room where the SEALs were quartered, and at once the place went quiet.
Stroh looked around. "Hey, I didn't kill anybody. What's going on?"
"Any word?" Murdock asked.
"Words, yes, but not the right ones. Got two messages for you, though. On paper." He handed two sheets to Murdock. They had come straight from the encryption machine. The first was from the Secretary of State.
Murdock read it out loud. "Lieutenant Murdock. SEAL Team Seven. Congratulations on pulling our people out of Nairobi. Excellent work. Tell your men well done. We wish you success on the rest of the mission. The whole State Department congratulates your team." Below he read the name of the sender "Mable L. Thorndyke, Secretary of State."
"What the fuck, somebody noticed," Red Nicholson said. "Usually we're the deepest darkest secret in town."
"True," Stroh said. "But this one wasn't exactly covert. Some talk of getting you guys some ink on this one. What's the other one, Lieutenant?"
Murdock switched the pages and looked at the next message. He glanced at the bottom of the page first. It was over the name of the President.
"Lieutenant Murdock and SEALS, Third Platoon, SEAL Team Seven," it read. "Please accept our sincere appreciation for the outstanding job you and your men did getting the forty hostages away from the rebel Kenyans and safely back to the carrier. We commend you, and offer you the thanks of the entire nation — even though the american people probably will never realize the service you performed in their name.