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“So what do we do?” Murdock asked.

The captain grinned. “Didn’t tell you that ever since we hit the area around Hainan, the brass figured we would be of more value farther down south, so we’ve been sailing south along the coast of Vietnam. We’re now below Ho Chi Minh and about to turn west into the Gulf of Thailand.”

DeWitt looked at the map of the area. “So we’re down here near the Gulf. We’re mostly south of those four countries, but not much closer to Bangladesh.”

“Close enough,” the captain said. “The important part is we won’t get shot down trying to fly over Vietnam. They are still touchy about their airspace. We will have to overfly a small piece of Myanmar that used to be called Burma. It’s only fifty miles wide right there and we’ll be over it before they know we’re coming.”

“We’re talking about a COD?” Murdock said.

The man next to the captain spoke up. “Men, I’m Cresswell, the CAG. Yes, we have a COD onboard that can make the trip. It’ll be empty except for your team and should be able to do the run with no problem. Our navigator figured if we get within fifty miles of the shore on the Gulf, we should have an eight-hundred-mile run up to the tip of Bangladesh, then two hundred and eighty miles more to Calcutta. This bird will do a thousand seven hundred on ferry and we won’t be much heavier than that. So from the hardware standpoint it’s a go.”

“How long will it take us to get there, Captain?” Murdock asked the CAG.

“The COD cruises at three hundred, so that means we should have a nonstop of three and a half to four hours, depending on any headwinds we hit.”

“That’s a good-size town there in Bangladesh,” Don Stroh said. “We’ll need some directions how to find our embassy.”

“Yes, sir,” the third man with the captain said. “We have faxes from the State Department showing pictures of the embassy building and the surrounding area. Also faxes of a list of those personnel still incountry. They did a mini-evacuation a week ago when their intelligence people said something was going to happen with China.”

“How many left there to evacuate?” Ed DeWitt asked.

The same man looked at his notes. “Another fax shows that there are eight and a half million people in Dhaka. The last report from the embassy said there were nineteen people to evacuate.”

Murdock looked at the CAG. “Does the Navy have any helicopters in Calcutta? We’ll need two Sea Knights, the CH-forty-six, preferably both with door guns.”

“That could be a problem,” the CAG said. “we have no base there of any kind. Calcutta is well inland. We do have some elements in the general area. We had a four-ship group on a goodwill tour, a pair of guided-missile destroyers and two guided-missile cruisers. They were somewhere near the Bay of Bengal, which is just below Bangladesh.” He turned to the third man, the one with the figures.

“Johnson, check out their position and what choppers they have on board. Ask specifically about the CH-forty-sixes.”

The man nodded and left the Captain’s cabin.

“Would one CH-forty-six do it?” the CAG asked.

“Specs call for it to carry twenty-five troops,” Murdock said. “Assume that’s combat ready. We’ll have fifteen combat ready, but nineteen civilians in shirt sleeves, might squeeze in under the weight, and might not. We’d prefer to have two birds.”

“The range is no problem, a top of four hundred and twenty miles.”

“We’ll have to take the ordnance we need from here,” DeWitt said. “Who should I see, and when are we leaving?”

“The COD can leave anytime you’re ready,” the CAG said. “I’ll get it warmed up and the preflight done.”

“Should be a nighttime operation,” Murdock said. “Not a chance we can make connections and get to Calcutta and into our choppers and to that town while it’s still dark. No way. So, we make it tomorrow night. We’re too far away to do it any other way.”

“Give us more time to get some choppers flown in for you,” the captain said. “They probably won’t have door guns. You’ll have to use your own.”

“We’ll check our team and let you know what ordinance we need. This will be a hot mission, live ammo all the way. Oh, do you have any of the laser-aimed twenty-millimeter air-burst rounds?”

The CAG shook his head. “Read about them. You have that new rifle?”

“Four of them,” DeWitt said. “Great for shooting guys hiding behind buildings and around corners.”

“We’ll call you when we get the choppers tied down,” the CAG said. “We’ll try to fly three into Calcutta, so we can have two up and ready to go. We’ve got an amphib landing ship somewhere in that area. I’ll get back to you.”

“That will be all, gentlemen,” the captain said. The SEALs and Stroh stood, turned and left the cabin.

Outside, Murdock looked at Stroh. “Did you know about this Bangladesh caper?”

“Yeah, but it was sealed and on the captain’s desk. Knew it might happen, not that it would. It even came through channels. Your little admiral will be pleased about that.”

DeWitt looked to be in a hurry. “Come on, let’s get back to the men and find out what ammo we need. This could get hairy if we have to go up against those Chicoms.”

Murdock frowned. “Chicoms? I haven’t heard that term since the Korean War.”

“Like you were around then. That was fifty years ago.”

“I read about it. Chinese Communists, shortened into Chicom. I like it.”

Stroh frowned. “Let me know when you get ready to shove off. Probably around daylight sometime, I’d think. Give you more set-up time in Calcutta.”

“Remember, Stroh, this is the mission you guaranteed us that you would come along on. I’ve got a submachine gun with your name on it.”

Stroh started to respond, but DeWitt and Murdock turned and walked down the companionway toward the SEALs compartment. They both grinned, the look of astonishment and then fear on Stroh’s face had been reward enough. Now, they had to get a fast list of the ammo and other arms they might need.

10

Tijuana, Mexico

Juan Lopez looked at the Tijuana Police Department detective and gave a small inward twitch but nothing that anyone could see. He had heard about Mad Dog Sanchez many times. This was the first time he had met him. It was said that Mad Dog had more confessions than any detective in all of Tijuana. The little border town had grown to more than a million people. Juan Lopez wanted to go right on living there and not in a cemetery.

“Yes, yes, I told you. I go to the El Gallo Colorado sometimes. They have good food and lots of girls. That’s no crime.”

Juan didn’t see the blow coming. It was from behind into his right kidney and he doubled over from the pain. He wanted to vomit but he knew they would make him clean it up. He sagged, then slowly stood.

“Juan, you can make this easy. We know that you have met Chuci Hernandez many times. He also liked The Red Rooster. Now he is dead, you are alive. Curious, no?”

“Why would I want to have anything to do with hurting Señor Hernandez?”

“You? Not you. You only follow orders. We know you work closely with El Padre. The big man has not seen fit to help a poor policeman like me with my living expenses. We know that you set up Cuchi with some gringo hit man. We want to know who and where we can find him.”

Juan felt his face freezing, his skin going pale. This was Mad Dog talking. He too, was acting on orders. How did Mad Dog know that he had contacted the gringo? It didn’t matter how.

“So, you dead chicken, you ready to crow?”

Juan looked up. “I don’t know what you’re—”