Below in the cabin, Sanborn nudged the President of the United States. “Sir, it’s time we move on. We’re too close to the ranch house here. We need another mile at least.”
President Dunnington put his feet on the floor and sat up. “Yes, more distance. You’re right. At least I had a short rest. Old bones don’t work as well as they did when I was fifty.”
They left by the side door and moved upward. Sanborn led the way, crashing brush, holding branches, making the walk as easy as he could for the President. There was no trail here. They moved at a slant up the hill, then angled back the other way, always working upward.
Ten minutes into the hike the President called a halt.
“Sorry, guys. I need to take ten. Heard anything new on your radios?”
“Nothing, sir. All of our people are moving away from the ranch house on predetermined courses. We had a plan. So far it seems to be working.”
“Hear anything on the SATCOM?”
“No, sir.”
“Get it started up and call AT&T. That thing will hook up with telephones, right?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Try it. Any area code, then five-five-five, and one-two, one-two. See what happens. It could work. Then you get the number of the nearest military base here in California.”
Phil, the other Secret Service man, set up the small dish antenna and aimed it toward where the satellite should be. He moved it slightly until he received an on-line beep from the set. Then he studied the radio a minute, flipped some switches, adjusted a dial, and then used the handset. “Never tried this before. Hey, it works.”
“AT&T information. What city, please?”
“Operator, this is the Secret Service on a satellite phone. I need the phone number of the closest military air base to Sacramento, California.”
“Just a moment.”
“Dead air. I guess she’s looking it up.”
“Sir, that would be Lemoore Naval Air Station just south of Fresno.”
“Would you ring the commanding officer, please?” Phil said. He grinned and handed the mike to Sanborn.
“Yes, sir, ringing.”
“Captain Johnson’s office, sir. How may I assist you?”
“This is Secret Service Agent Sanborn. I have an extreme emergency and need to speak to your CO.”
“Sorry, sir, he’s not on the base. Would the OD do?”
“Yes. Get him.”
A moment later a ring and an answer.
“Officer of the Day.”
“Hello, this is Secret Service Agent Sanborn with President Dunnington’s party in the Sierra Nevadas. We have a problem.”
“Yes, sir. How can I confirm your identity?”
“You can’t. What’s your name?”
“Lieutenant Commander Richard Jones, sir.”
“Good, Commander. We’re in the Sierras west of Sacramento with President Dunnington and some of his top advisors. We’ve been attacked by an armed force and our three HU-53’s have been destroyed. We’re at the Saddle Mountain Ranch resort south of Saddle Mountain peak about three miles. We need help. An armed force from two choppers has captured the ranch house and we’re in the brush. You can contact us on SATCOM channel two. Do you have any Marine Recon on your base?”
“No, sir. Not exactly an infantry-type outfit.”
“Any SEALs?”
“No, sir, they’re in San Diego.”
“Well, get somebody in here fast, before dark if you can. We’re in big trouble and it’s on your head, Commander. My name is Sanborn, with the Secret Service. Now get cracking and report back to us on SATCOM channel two within twenty minutes.”
“Yes, sir. Out.”
Sanborn made some adjustments on the dials and called his home office in Washington, D.C. There was an immediate response. The SATCOM transmissions were scrambled, and thus perfectly secure.
“Secret Service, Presidential Detail.”
“Joe, this is Sanborn with the President. We’ve been attacked by a foreign military unit and lost our three birds. We’re scattered in the brush and woods around the ranch we came to. We need help and we need it now. We contacted Lemoore Air Station, but they don’t have much help. Get us some Marine Recon or SEALs or Airborne Rangers. Get some armed forces here as quickly as you can.”
“This for real, Sanborn?”
“Absolutely. Get us some help or I’ll personally tear your balls off. Now move something.”
“I’ll tell the chief and we’re on it.”
They signed off and Sanborn nodded. “Now we’ll see who can get somebody here first.”
Before they could move on, an amplified voice boomed over the mountainside.
“Secret Service agents. This is a warning to you. We know that you and President Dunnington and his top aides are here. We are asking you to come back to the ranch house and be comfortable. Tonight it will be dark and then cold, miserable, and perhaps wet out there.”
The English had a decided accent to it.
“We encourage you to come in because we have captured a pretty lady named Maria Alvarez. We also have six members of the staff of workers. We simply require all of you to report in within an hour, or we will start executing one of the captives for every half hour you are late. Is that clear? We would start with the owner, Mr. Bronson, but unfortunately he challenged us with a pistol and was shot to death. So, the first hostage to be shot precisely at one-thirty P.M. will be Mrs. Alvarez.”
16
Bill Bradford shook his head at the commander’s announcement. “No wet suits, you said, so that means we have another land-slogger assignment.”
“More like a mountain-climbing event,” Murdock said. “Now listen up, we don’t have a lot of time. We fly out of North Island in a little less than an hour. The trip could last a couple of days, so take an extra set of cammies. The usual mix of weapons, with the snipers on both squads to use the new Knight Mk 11. We haven’t had much work on that new weapon yet, so this will be its test under fire.
“Now to the particulars. We’ll be going out of North Island in the luxury flight on the Gulfstream directly into Sacramento. From there we will move by CH-46 to a road three miles from the Saddle Mountain Ranch. It’s a working cattle ranch, which also has luxury accommodations for city slickers who want to be cowboys for a week. From our drop-off point we will move with two platoons of Army Rangers toward the ranch, with the hope that we can find the North Koreans who have attacked the President and his party, take them down, and rescue the civilians.”
There was a yell and lots of loud talk.
“You mean somebody tried to hit the President?” Luke Howard asked.
“Correct. He was on a secret conference with his top aides, and two choppers bored in and blew up three CH-53’s and we don’t know what else. They are hurting and need help. The hit took place just about 9 A.M. It’s now 1115. We fly out at 1200, so let’s get moving.
“That’s a huge wilderness area up there in the Sierra Nevada Mountains. We’ll be around the five-thousand-foot level and near Saddle Mountain. That’s somewhere near the South Fork of the American River. Questions?”
“Cold-weather gear?” Franklin asked.
“Snow should be long gone up there by now. We might wind up wearing both sets of cammies. No special cold gear.”
Murdock looked around. No more questions. “All right, let’s get our gear ready. Double on the ammo. We’ll all take drag bags for additional ammo. We won’t have any friendly local supplier. We take what we’ll need including six MREs per man. Senior Chief, see if you can get some of those good ones with the heating pouches. That’s it. Let’s move.”