George MacKenzie was beginning to smile.
“As soon as they go through the wall,” said Murdock, “the boys in the armored cars pop the vehicle smoke dischargers and pull fuses. They un-ass the cars and bolt through the holes in the walls and the fence. The limos provide covering fire and pop their own smoke.
“Everyone hops in the limos and we peel rubber. We blow out of town at high speed. If you look at the route I’ve marked, we have to go through two checkpoints, based on current intelligence. The limos still have Syrian flags, sirens blaring. Everyone’s going to think really hard before taking a shot at us. On the way out of town we’re throwing tire poppers and pursuit-deterrent munitions out the windows.
“We’re out of town, and the helos are already on the way in. Two MH-60K Blackhawks, one primary and one backup, because we’re not bringing the limos back with us. We’ll rig them to blow when we leave.
“If we spend more than thirty seconds on the target, from the time the armored cars go through the fence to the time the limos pull out, you’re all fired.”
Murdock stood there expectantly, but there was silence in the room.
Then Ed DeWitt whistled through his teeth. George MacKenzie’s smile grew even larger.
Kos Kosciuszko was nodding happily. All eyes turned to Razor Roselli.
Razor thought about it for a while. Then he said, “This could work. You know, Boss, this could most definitely work.”
Murdock was unmoved. “We’ve just started working,” he said grimly. “We’re going to sit here and diagram every move we make every second we’re in Lebanon. And then we’re going to war-game absolutely everything that could go wrong, from a flat tire to Razor’s hemorrhoids acting up on him. And we will figure out exactly what we are going to do in each situation. And only when we’ve got this plan airtight and polished like a diamond will we brief it back to the brass.”
11
“I like it!” Admiral Raymond exclaimed. “It’s about time a bunch of my young studs threw away the Ranger Handbook and did some special warfare.” He cocked an eyebrow at Murdock. “You like planning for what might go wrong, don’t you, Lieutenant?”
“Something always does, sir.”
“You’re right about that.”
For this meeting it was just the admiral and the CIA. The Secret Service, the commodore, and Commander Masciarelli hadn’t been invited. MacKenzie, DeWitt, Roselli, and Kosciuszko had come along to help Murdock with the briefing. It had taken just under an hour. Murdock had seen briefings go hours longer, but that was ridiculous. Briefers added a bunch of irrelevant crap just to show off for the brass. Anyway, the human brain couldn’t absorb that much information.
Now the admiral turned to the CIA men. “This plan has my complete approval — unchanged. Can you get the lieutenant what he needs?”
“I don’t see any problem,” said Don Stroh.
“Well, I do,” said Berlinger. “Do any of you realize how expensive the lieutenant’s plan is compared with our original one?”
“Not too expensive compared to two billion in counterfeit currency a year,” the Admiral observed. “Besides, this plan will work.”
“With the expenditure of two armored cars and two limousines alone,” said Berlinger. “Not to mention the increased helicopter assets.”
“Excuse me, sir,” said Murdock. “But if you’ll recall, I said we needed four armored cars. Two reserved for the mission. And two to train with, of which one will be a mission backup and the other I plan on expending for demolition tests. And, of course, three limousines. One of which will be mission backup.”
“And what’s all this backup nonsense?” Berlinger demanded.
“In case one of the vehicles breaks down, sir. We wouldn’t want to postpone the mission while we ordered a new one from the factory, would we?”
Berlinger still wouldn’t quit. “Do you realize that you’re using enough explosives to level a city block?”
“Yes, sir. It should do a really fine job on the warehouse.”
“And you’re not concerned with civilian casualties?”
Beside him, Murdock could hear Razor Roselli grumble, “Is this asshole with the CIA or the fucking Peace Corps?” Murdock quieted his chief with a sharp kick to the ankle.
“Let’s move on, shall we?” Whitbread interrupted. “The rest of us are not about to pretend that we’re concerned about any casualties to the Syrians, Hezbollah, or the good citizens of Baalbek. I, for one, remember that Baalbek was where those same people tortured to death William Buckley, our chief of station in Beirut and a good friend. Lieutenant Murdock, I’m prepared to recommend approval of your plan. Tonight I will present it to the Director and the … appropriate national authority.”
Murdock hoped the President liked it.
“Don Stroh will be in touch with you when a decision is reached,” said Whitbread. “Gentlemen, well done, and good day to you.”
That did a very nice job of breaking up the meeting. Stroh came over to talk to Murdock, and the admiral moved to corner the SEALs before they could slip out of the room.
“Nice job on the briefing, Blake,” said Stroh. “Love the plan. Berlinger’s just bitchy because yours is light years ahead of the one his boys came up with. And you know,” he said quietly, “the computer only gave his plan a fifty-five-percent chance of completion. Yours has got to be up over eighty percent.”
“Great,” Murdock said, without enthusiasm.
“Oh, I also wanted to tell you. That woman at the villa in Port Sudan? It turns out the French wanted to talk to her about the bombings in Paris earlier in the year. They think she might have planted a couple of bombs herself. Woman and a little kid. you know? You wouldn’t figure they’re packing a bomb that’s going to blow up a few innocent people, would you?”
“I guess not.”
“So if anyone was bummed about tagging a woman, you can let them know they didn’t make a mistake.”
“As far as I know, no one was bummed.”
“… Whatever. Our colleagues at the Direction General de Securite Exterieure tell us, on behalf of the French Government, that they’re very pleased not to have her running around anymore. They might even have sprung for a medal, except that it never happened, right?”
“Right.”
“Okay, I’m going back to Langley and start putting your shopping list together. Don’t worry about the big boys approving, it’s in the bag. I’ll see you at Niland, okay?”
“Okay.”
Murdock started to walk over to the knot of SEALs that had the admiral surrounded, but George MacKenzie had already slipped away and was waiting to waylay him.
Mac looked around to see if anyone was listening, then said, “You still haven’t told me if you’re taking me along.”
“You want to go?” Murdock asked innocently.
“Hell, yes,” said MacKenzie. “How many ops do you think I have left before I retire?”
“You know I’d take you in a heartbeat, Mac. It’s okay if you don’t give a shit about Razor.”
“What the hell are you talking about? What does Razor have to do with it?”
“The boys would all be looking to you. Really, it’s okay if you don’t give a shit about Razor’s credibility.”
MacKenzie was taken aback. Then he sighed. “Yeah, you’re right. I wanted the op so bad I didn’t think about the platoon.”