Murdock signed off and made the coffee. He ate two bear claws he’d picked up on the way to the base. Then he tackled the report. He had it on the screen within a half hour. Then he went back over it and rewrote it until he had it the way he wanted it. He spell-checked it on the computer, thanked the grammar unit for catching a small goof, and then printed out four copies. He gave it a file name and left it on his hard disk. Then all he had to do was wait for SEAL Team Seven’s commander to get into his office.
Murdock tried to do some paperwork he was behind on, but couldn’t get with it. He kept thinking about that domelike structure he had seen fifty yards from the oil rig. What the hell was it and who had put it there?
At 0700 Master Chief Petty Officer Gordon MacKenzie phoned.
“Commander, lad, you’re up early this morning, it being a Friday and all.”
“Master Chief, remember I told you I was going to Santa Barbara? I did. Want to read something interesting before I show it to the commander?”
“Indeed I do. I have some fresh-brewed and a few donuts if you would care to honor me with your selfness.”
Murdock grinned. “Be right there, Master Chief.”
The old Scotsman frowned as he read the two-page report.
“Two men dead including Irwin. I remember him well. You even think they have some kind of sonar protection around the tower and this building?”
“The way it looks, Master Chief. I’d like to know what’s inside that building down there on the bottom of the channel.”
“Of course, Don Stroh hasn’t seen this report,” MacKenzie said.
“Absolutely not. I just wrote it. No time for him to see it.”
“And you didn’t call him this morning at 0613 on your regular phone?”
Murdock laughed. “Can’t get ahead of you, Master Chief, can I? That call will be our little secret. I figured that the CIA should get on this and get cracking in case the chain of command upward didn’t work well.”
MacKenzie’s green eyes sparkled. “Aye, laddie, and a good move it was. I know nothing. The good commander said he would be in his office this morning to make some early morning calls, but I haven’t seen him yet. When he comes in…” The chief stopped. “His Lincoln just pulled into the parking lot, lad. You’re in luck. You can deliver your missive yourself.”
Ten minutes later Commander Dean Masciareli frowned at the two sheets of paper and then looked up at Murdock.
“Somebody up there killed these two men including an ex-SEAL, and you say they have a building on the bottom of the channel?”
“Yes, sir. I’d really like to know what’s inside that concrete-looking structure.”
The commander paused for a moment, then he nodded. “All right, I’m faxing this to Admiral Kenner immediately. Then I’ll call him. This is something somebody needs to look into and it should be us. Sonar that can pick up men swimming and let the sharks go by. Amazing.” He pushed a buzzer, and his yeoman came in, took the two sheets, and got his instructions. The two officers waited a few minutes until the faxes went through. Then the yeoman came back.
“The two pages are sent, confirmed,” he said.
Commander Masciareli reached for his phone and dialed the long-distance number. It rang four times.
“This is Commander Masciareli in Coronado. I need to speak with the admiral at the first possible moment.” He waited. Less than a minute later he lifted one hand and nodded at Murdock.
“Richard, did you get the two-page fax I just sent you? Something strange going on up by Santa Barbara I think you’ll be interested in.”
The commander put his hand over the mouthpiece. “He’s getting the fax. He’s a fast reader.”
Masciareli grinned when he listened. “Yes, sir, I agree it’s something that could be tremendously important, especially if the Chinese or North Koreans are involved. Would it be FBI or CIA jurisdiction?”
He listened. “Yes, sir, Murdock is right here.” Masciareli frowned as he held out the phone to Blake.
“Yes, sir, Lieutenant Commander Murdock, sir.”
“Murdock, yes. Good scouting mission. How deep is the water there?”
“From eighty to a hundred feet.”
“The structure on the bottom of the channel, it looks like concrete?”
“Yes, sir. But no lines or tubes or wires leading away from it.”
“Antennas?”
“Didn’t see any, but it was dark down there, and I didn’t use any lights.”
“I’ll fax this to the CNO. I’ll suggest the CIA do the investigation here. They should dig into the owners of that platform. In the meantime I’m suggesting to the CNO that we do a training exercise off Santa Barbara in the channel, with a dozen warships and landing craft as a cover for your platoon to dive and get all the specs you can on that structure. They won’t dare use their sonar or we will pick it up. Look for antennas especially. I’ll suggest we get this mounted for tomorrow afternoon. If the CNO goes for it, and I think he will, we should know something before nightfall tomorrow. Get your platoon ready, Commander. Let me have Masciareli again.”
“Yes, sir.”
He gave the phone back to his boss and watched. The man’s eyes lit up and he began to breathe faster. He grinned. “Yes, sir. I’ll start getting ready on this end. We’ll use just the one platoon. Can the Navy get the ships ready to move that quickly?”
He listened for a moment. “Yes, sir. I understand. Yes, sir. Good-bye.”
Masciareli turned to Murdock smiling. “Well, it looks like we have lit a fire under the admiral, and he expects the CNO to act as soon as he gets the fax. He said if the Navy can’t get enough ships up there, we’ll go with whatever they can move, destroyers, some cruisers, at least one amphibious landing ship with their landing craft, even some surface-effect ships. All we need is a good display to shield what you guys do downstairs.” He paused. “Good work, Murdock. I’m sorry about Irwin. I remember him. Blew out his knee over in Europe somewhere on a parachute drop.” He stood. Murdock stood. “That will be all, Commander.”
Murdock hurried to his office. Ten minutes later Don Stroh called him.
“Boy, you set off a whirlwind back here. I’ve got my boss and the CNO and the President yelling at me. So far I’ve dug up the owner of that platform. Some outfit in Texas, but it has six North Koreans on the board of directors. Also the President of the outfit has made twenty-four long-distance calls to Pyongyang within the past three weeks. His passport also shows four stamps to North Korea.”
“Stroh, could this be a nasty payback for the trouncing we gave North Korea when it tried to invade the South the last time?”
“Could be. Those Orientals have long memories.”
“So what do we do now?”
“We wait to see how the CNO reacts to your chief’s suggestion that we do a recon over the spot tomorrow with a dozen or so Navy ships and your platoon.”
Think the brass will go for it?”
“It’s either that or blow up the thing without knowing what’s inside of it. They’ll go for the recon. How far is it from San Diego to Santa Barbara?”
“A little over two hundred miles by highway. Probably not quite that far as the ships could cut across the arc the land mass makes along here.”
“At flank speed it would take eight or nine hours to get up there from San Diego,” Stroh said.
“We wait and we see. Let’s hope we get to fly up and land on a cruiser instead of a ride on a boat.”
Don started to say good-bye.
“Oh, Stroh. You told the CNO about the North Korean tie-in to that oil-drilling tower.”
“You betcha, Red Ryder. Oh, you’re too young to know about Red Ryder and his faithful Indian kid, Little Beaver. Yeah, everyone knows. I blabbed it all over town.”
“Take care.”
The same night that Murdock drove four hours to get home from Santa Barbara, Jack Mahanani braved the Casa Grande Casino east of San Diego. He got in the door and halfway to the cashier to buy chips before Harley caught up with him.