Everything they needed for the ops was attached to their wetsuits: grenade and ammo pouches, secondary magazines, medical kits, helmet radios, night vision equipment, and their weapons. They chose Heckler & Koch MK3′s, Sig Sauer 9 mm automatics, Beretta M92-Fs with slide locks and Qualatech silencers, and K-Bar survival knives.
Pintar and Shaughnessy also carried their Knights SR25 sniper rifles, critical for the first phase of the mission.
“How many times can the presidency be stolen?” Strong asked his listeners. “This amounts to a coup.” He read from the wire service report about Lamden’s return. His real information came from an e-mail on the Hill. “So they trot Henry Lamden out so they don’t have to swear in the Speaker of the House.”
Strong had to be careful; he hadn’t laid the groundwork on why Patrick, a Democrat, would be better than another Democrat. He decided to give it a more politically motivated spin.
“They know that Congressman Patrick was coming out in support of General Bridgeman — that he was all set to introduce him today. So, rather than make him president, they punish him. They bring out an invalid instead of naming Duke Patrick the rightful president.” He slammed his hand down hard.
“How do I know this? Because I’ve been told by my sources in Washington.” Patrick. “Conspiracy at the highest level. Congress must open an investigation immediately. This is the last straw!”
Strong thought he turned the negative into a true positive. More for Bridgeman to talk about today. More to anger the crowd. More reason to incite….
They quietly emerged from the sea, timing their run to shore — two SEALs at a time — with the crashing of the waves. They regrouped fifty yards inland at the base of a cliff — their first obstacle.
The clouds obscured the moon, which cut down on the enemy’s ability to see them. It also made their passage more difficult. They had a 100-foot slippery vertical surface to climb and no time to waste.
The SEALs continued to use hand signals. Nolt indicated where they should ascend. The first men up had the hardest job — finding the best place to grip. Each footing was marked with luminous powder, visible through the night-vision goggles.
Alpha took six minutes to scale the rock face. Bravo needed an extra ninety seconds, which put them behind schedule.
Speeding up could be dangerous, but they were on a timetable, which was out of their control. Nolt pushed his men through the underbrush due north for a quarter of a mile, then northwest until they came to a thick bamboo forest. They made up two minutes. The next 200 yards would take additional time. They had to navigate around gullies and swamp.
“Shit!” Showalter cursed. He slid knee-deep into a bog. The more he tried to pull himself out, the harder it became to move.
Polonsky avoided the same mistake, stopping short of the mud. Roberts came to Showalter’s aid. Chaskes circumvented the area, but doubled-back.
Polonsky motioned for Showalter to stand still. He looked overhead. Bamboo branches shot through the jungle canopy. “Push that one down,” he signaled Roberts. If Showalter could grab hold of the branch, then at least he’d stop sinking.
Roberts shimmied up the tree, high enough to reach a point where he could force down the trunk and get it within reach of Showalter.
All of this was accomplished silently, but it was taking too much time.
“Got it,” Showalter whispered. He reached as high up the curved wood as possible and slid the top of the trunk between his legs. The flexibility of the branch worked in his favor. But there wasn’t much he could do yet.
Roberts then bent over another trunk, a few feet from the first. The trapped SEAL grabbed the second shaft and forced it under him as he had done before. The two trees effectively created a ladder. With a combination of pulling and climbing, Showalter cautiously inched out of the mud that had trapped him.
Polonsky checked the time. Two minutes behind schedule.
Nolt looked at his watch. The massive batteries of the USS Cowpens, an Aegis cruiser off the coast, were loaded and ready to fire. According to the GPS direction finder on Nolt’s wrist PDA, they still had another fifty yards to go. He waved Alpha forward into their attack position.
Shaughnessy identified nine targets on the perimeter. He rolled on his stomach and showed Pintar, who was behind him, nine fingers. The word went back to Lopez, and ultimately to Nolt.
The nine were only the first kills they’d have to make. Beyond them, the rest of the militia. Shaughnessy panned his night-vision sight across a grove, which abutted a cliff. He could see three encampments. Each housed at least 100 troops. The men milled around. The light from their cigarettes created hot spots on the infrared goggles. Another, smaller group gathered around a camouflaged tent. It was large enough to hold a dozen or more prisoners.
Shaughnessy looked at his palm device. He was receiving LINK 16-type data, down-linked and culled from intelligence sources including AWACS telementiy, a RC-135 Rivet Joint ELINT/SIGINT/COMINT aircraft, and an E-8B/C J-STARS ground surveillance plane. With it, he had a solid lock on the primary objective: the tent and a pulsing beacon from within.
Lt. Nolt gave his watch one more glance. Forty-five seconds. He inched forward through the underbrush toward Shaughnessy, careful not to show a profile to the enemy. The two men would come in from the southwest. Pintar and Lopez to their left. Bravo Team — Chaskes, Showalter, Roberts, and Polonsky — would circle around from the north. Twenty seconds.
Ten seconds. Nolt steeled himself for his first kill. Five seconds. His target stood twenty feet ahead. His automatic weapon was down at his side.
Suddenly and without warning, the sky brightened to the south. Flashes of light, all coming from one point well off shore, illuminated the night sky. Trails of fire streamed across the horizon.
The guerillas watched, mesmerized. Then they realized they were under attack. With nowhere to run, they fell to the ground and covered their heads waiting for the explosions.
The explosions came, but not at their encampment. They were a few kilometers away, at a neighboring island.
Gradually, the troops rose to their feet and cheered at the stupidity of the Americans.
Now.
The targets closest to Alpha Team had their weapons down. They were pointing to the destruction of the island in the distance.
Nolt stepped out of the shadows. Shaughnessy was by his side. The SEALs moved in perfect synchronicity. They approached from the rear, stretching a thin cord into a wide noose. In one quick, stealth move, they slipped their devices over the unsuspecting victims’ heads. The rebels’ hands reflexively went up, but there was nothing they could do. Each SEAL kicked his target’s knees. The victims were thrown off balance. Neither man could steady nor protect himself.
Nolt and Shaughnessy drew their nooses back under their victims’ chins until their work was done. Their first kills went down without a whisper rising above the explosions. Nolt and Shaughnessy slowly lowered the bodies to the ground.
Three men, barely fifteen feet in front of them, paid no attention. Nolt again took the lead and flared to the target on the left. Shaughnessy would take the man on the right. They counted on Lopez to drop the target in the middle.