Four Mexicans stood there waiting for him. One took him by the arm. “Tacos around corner,” he said. It may have been the only English he knew. Mahanani felt strange as he walked out the door and around the corner to a small café. Inside he ate a taco, then had a second one. It took about half an hour. He retraced his steps and found the door he had come out locked. He knocked three times. A small panel in the door opened, and then the door unlocked.
“Early,” Jose said. They put him in a small office with a chair. Ten minutes later he backed the 1985 Chevy out of the garage. He could feel no difference in the handling. He retraced his route, and suddenly he was at U.S. Customs. A bored inspector looked at his car and scowled.
“Where were you born?”
“Honolulu, Hawaii.”
“How long you been in Mexico?” he asked.
“Just tonight, playing tourist.”
“Anything to declare, booze, fur coats?”
“Nothing.”
“Okay, move on.”
He was through, and trying not to feel the thrill of getting away with something. For a mile he kept watching in his rearview mirror, but no flashing lights came racing toward him. Yes, he’d done it, earned four hundred dollars, and he hadn’t been caught. Of course, now he was a drug smuggler. He was shaking by the time he drove the two miles into San Ysidro to the garage. There he beeped twice and the door opened. Mahanani drove inside.
Jose grinned at him. “No trouble, no problema. Sí. Is easy, no? Your car’s just outside.”
Mahanani nodded and hurried toward his car. He wasn’t sure he could walk that far. He’d never committed a crime before in his life. Now he was a fucking dope smuggler. He sat inside the Buick for five minutes before he started it. By then he figured he could drive home on the freeway without wrecking the car. He was so hyped up he couldn’t believe it.
He tried to calm down. He’d done it, and would do it again, and maybe he could get out of his IOU with the casino. But fourteen more trips? He didn’t know. There had to be a better way. He could investigate. He would think on it. Gradually he calmed down. He eased off on the throttle, realizing he was passing everyone on the freeway. He was doing almost ninety miles an hour down U.S. 805. He slowed to sixty and moved into the right-hand lane. Better. Yes. He drove with the utmost caution to his apartment in Coronado. It had been a tough evening. How in hell was he going to get out of this one?
6
Lieutenant Commander Blake Murdock leaned back in his office chair and tried to relax. It had been a pounding twelve hours. He went over his talk with Admiral Kenner, who’d been in his office back in Little Creek, Virginia. Yes, he’d done everything right. He’d lit the fuse, and it would explode sometime tomorrow. Now all he had to do was get through this day. The three hours of sleep were getting to him. Strange, when he was twenty-one he could stay up all night and be fit and fighting the next morning. Maybe he was getting older.
He watched Ed DeWitt come in, and briefed him on what had happened. Then he gave him a copy of his report.
“Holy shit, Murdock. You ran into a rattlesnake nest up there. Any idea what it’s about?”
Murdock told him the current theory about the North Koreans.
“Yeah, they’re still pissed how we blasted them a year ago,” said DeWitt. “So is the operation on for sure?”
“Nothing is for sure until we hear it from the CNO, but I’d say it’s about ninety-nine-percent go.”
“Regular training session today?”
“Let’s keep it light, a five-mile run and a five-mile swim. While you’re gone, I’m going to take a nap. I’m played out.”
“You earned it. We tell the troops about tomorrow?”
“Not until it’s official. It could get stalled somewhere along the long chain of command.”
“Yeah, but it’s a better bet when we start at the top.” Ed went out to meet the men as they filtered in. Murdock heard them groan when they heard about the five-mile run at 1000. He stared at his computer until the screen went fuzzy. Then he turned it off, leaned back in his chair, and before he realized it, went to sleep.
Ed woke him when he came back in the small office grumbling. Murdock came up in the chair blinking.
“Sorry, Cap, didn’t mean to wake you. We’ve got two men out with the flu. Both called in this morning and could hardly talk. We’ll be short-handed tomorrow if we go.”
“We’ll go, I’m sure of it. The idea of some foreign power having a secret facility on our coast really shook up the brass and the CIA. We’ll be doing recon only, but there could be some opposition. Wouldn’t be smart with all of the assets we’re going to have prowling around the area. I’d guess we won’t see anybody down there, just the damn dome. We’ll need some underwater lights. Can you get us about four to take down? Some strong ones. I don’t know where we’d requisition them.”
“Supply will know. I’ll get them on it right now.”
“You about ready for your run?”
DeWitt grinned. “Cap, we just got back. You’ve been out of it for two hours.”
Murdock stretched and stood. “Then about time I get to work.”
“Yeah, lunchtime,” DeWitt said. “You up for that?”
They both laughed.
That afternoon Murdock went with the platoon on the five-mile swim. They did it on the surface without flippers or Draegrs. It was harder that way, a purely conditioning exercise. Jaybird led the way, and brought them in four minutes late, but close enough for a timed routine.
Back in the office, Murdock found a call waiting for him.
“Yes, Master Chief, what’s cooking?”
“A call came through channels from the CNO. It’s a go tomorrow. He’s lined up two destroyers, two missile cruisers, and an amphibious assault ship as well as two air-cushion landing craft. They will pull out of San Diego tonight and steam north, and be on station just off Santa Barbara in the channel at 0800. Your platoon will be airlifted from North Island in a CH-46 and land on the command cruiser. Then deployed via an air-cushion craft when ready. The ships will be working a mock attack and maneuvers just off the tower. Aircraft from the amphibious assault ship will be working the area, and both towers will be included in the maneuvers so as not to attract attention to one.”
“When do we leave from North Island?”
“I talked to the Forty-Six pilot assigned to the run. You’ll need an hour and fifteen minutes for the flight. If you take off at 0700, you’ll get up there just after 0815 when they are ready to rumble.”
“We’re out of here at 0630. Any restrictions?”
“No, full combat-ready. Don Stroh sends his regrets. He’s on another assignment.”
“We’ll struggle along without him.”
“All your men ready to go?”
“We’ll see about the two who are out today with the flu. It might get better in a rush when they know we have an operation.”
“Let me know before you push off.”
Murdock went into the assembly room to tell the platoon. The men were getting on their civvies ready for the road.
“So that’s the skinny, guys. Report here at 0500 and we’ll get suited up and move out. We’ll go in full wet suits and Draegrs, and half our ammo load. Doubt if we’ll need our weapons, but we’ll be ready in case. Any questions?”
“Yeah, you say it might be the damn North Koreans?” Howard asked.
“Speculation, but we don’t think the Chinese would be that stupid. Anything else?” There wasn’t. “Senior Chief, get in touch with Fernandez and Lam and see if they will be coming along on the ride, or if they still have the flu. That’s all.”