“Hit the deck,” Murdock bellowed. He hadn’t even had time to get his Motorola working. The burning boards dropped all around them, some sailing as far as the sea. When everything stopped falling, Murdock sat up.
Jaybird slid in beside him. “Secondary? Their stash of boom-boom?”
“Must be. Let’s get on the rest of the way round here and see what’s on the other side.”
The SEALs regrouped and circled their end of the complex. What had once been a series of connected buildings, some of them three stories high, now was nothing but a burning mass of rubble not over three feet high. The SEALs went back to the water side.
One section, six feet wide, near the middle was not yet burning. They moved up as close as they could. Murdock stared through the blown-out window and saw what he decided had been an office. A desk remained and a chair in front of it. On top of the desk sat a white paper bag about the size of a lunch sack.
“Some terr is gonna miss his late-night snack tonight,” Jaybird said. They found two men crawling away from the building. The MP-5’s chattered and the crawlers stopped moving permanently.
Murdock pulled out his Motorola and called the Israeli team.
“Yes, Yanks, I hear you. Not much left on this side. We’ve found two survivors who we dispatched. We’ve circled our end and it looks like we’re about done here.”
“We’ve found the same situation. You see those SAS men come in?”
“Heard their boat. Haven’t seen them.”
“So where are these other six targets?” Murdock asked.
“Not the slightest. Figured the Brits would do them.”
Murdock heard someone coming from the beach, and looked over. There were two of the SAS men, one limping badly. They saw Murdock and headed his way.
“Fucking boat flipped on us. Lost a lot of our lads. We need some help. Can we team up with you blokes on this one? I know the targets.”
“Let’s go,” Murdock said. The word passed to the last SEAL in the area, and they jogged forward with the Brit. They went down a block, past curious residents on the sidewalk looking at the firestorm near the beach.
“Fifth house down,” the Brit lieutenant said. “Frame house with yellow trim.”
They sensed no opposition from the civilians. A block later they came on the house. The front door stood open. Two men in the yard looked up, saw the military unit converging on them, and ran into the house.
“We’ll take the back, Ed, you go in the front,” Murdock said on his Motorola.
“Got it,” Ed said.
Murdock led his seven men to the side of the house. He saw two lights snap off inside the building. At the last window he threw a fragger grenade hard through the glass, then kept on going to the rear of the structure.
The small bomb went off with authority inside. Murdock put his men on the ground and they watched the rear door a moment. One man came running out, and six Parabellums drilled through his body, dropping him into the dirt of the backyard.
Murdock heard two grenades explode inside the house; then the radio came on.
“Going inside,” DeWitt said. “Don’t fire into the place or use grenades. We’ll clear.”
Alpha Squad remained on the ground and waited. They heard a half-dozen shots fired in the house, then another grenade and more shots. A short time later the rear door opened and a voice bellowed.
“Friendlies here, SEALs coming out the back door.”
The troops moved to the front of the house, and the SAS man pointed on down the street.
“Second and third targets are half a block down this way. We have two houses side by side. They must know we’re coming by now.”
“DeWitt, take the far house with our SAS man. We’ll get the near one. Go.”
“Your house is concrete block with no paint, small tree in front, no sidewalk,” the SAS man said.
“Hey, Brit. You have a name?” Murdock asked.
“Yeah, I’m Trent-Jones.”
“Okay, Jones it is. I’m Murdock. Concrete block with small tree. We’re moving.”
Both houses were dark when they came toward them. At once a rifle fired from one window, and the SEALs took cover behind two parked cars and three good-sized trees. “I’ll cover you,” Murdock said “Jaybird, Van Dyke, and Ching, move to the back door and cover it. Go on my fire.”
Murdock moved his Bull Pup to 5.56 and fired three rounds into the nearest window, then three more rounds into the next window. He worked down the side of the house until his three men were safely past the windows and to the rear. He pushed the selector on the Bull Pup to 20mm and fired one round into the front door. It blew the whole wooden door all the way inside the house. Murdock sent one more twenty round inside; then he and the rest of the squad charged the front of the house.
There was no answering fire. The SEALs pressed against the front of the concrete structure and waited. “Jaybird, hold it back there, we’re going in,” Murdock called on the radio.
“Roger that.”
“Howard, you and I. I’ve got the left.”
They charged through the door, covering their sides of the large room they found. It was so dark they couldn’t see anything. Murdock used his penlight, holding it three feet from his body. The powerful but small beam showed two dead bodies on the floor, both holding submachine guns.
“Two terrs down here,” Murdock said on the radio. They charged through the rest of the house, and found one more man in the rear room. He was wounded. He screamed at them and lifted an Uzi in Murdock’s beam of light. Howard put four rounds of Parabellums into his chest, and he dropped the weapon and met his ancestors in half a second.
“All clear,” Murdock said. They went back outside just as DeWitt and Jones charged the front door of the other house. Murdock heard firing from the rear.
“We’ve got two downed terrs here,” Donegan said on the Motorola. “Little bastards thought they could outrun a bullet.”
“Two more dead inside,” De Witt said. “We’re done here.”
They could hear sirens — fire, police, or the Palestinian Authority military police, they didn’t know which one.
“Let’s haul ass out of here,” Murdock said. The SEALs jogged toward the sea, cut back a block, and then down another deserted street until they could see the dark waters of the Mediterranean. Trent-Jones went with them. “You swim?” Murdock asked the SAS man.
“Like a salmon, but I should go find my mates.”
“Was there another officer with them?” Murdock asked.
“Yes.”
“He probably has most of them in tow. The sirens will push them back to sea. We’ll try to find them once we get out a ways. Can you strap your weapon over your back?”
“Quite, regular procedure. How far out do we swim?”
“I’ll contact the patrol boat before we hit the water. He should come in to a quarter mile and key in on our light sticks. At least that’s the plan. We’ll see how well he can follow orders.”
Murdock told the SEALs to stash their Motorolas in waterproof compartments on their cammies. He called the boat.
“Patrol One, you should have men in the water in two minutes. Can you read me?”
“Surfers, we have you. We’re a mile off. Are you north or south of the target? We can still see it burning.”
“We’re north now about three hundred yards. Have you heard from the Israeli swimmers?”
“They have been picked up by Patrol Two.”
“We’re moving. Did you know that the SAS boat flipped? You might ask Patrol Two to watch for survivors. We have one SAS man, Lieutenant Trent-Jones, with us.”
“Will relay. We’re looking for seventeen?”
“Right. We know of one wounded Brit on shore. Do your best.”
Murdock put away his radio. “Let’s get wet, men,” he said, and led the way into the water. Without their flippers it was harder work swimming out, but nobody complained. They had no wounds that Murdock had heard about, and it was only a quarter of a mile.