“I’ll tell him. Commander, we just have a new fire sighted. It’s about ten miles from you along a road. It looks like one of the team of North Korean fire-starters may have hijacked a car. When the pilot picks you up, we’ll try to get you in front of traffic along that road. It’s a gravel-surface secondary, will show a dust trail, and not many cars in there this time of year. We’ll keep you informed. We’ll contact you through the chopper pilot when you’re airborne. Leave your SATCOM on this TAC in case we have a change in plans. Four out.”
“Hot damn, a car chase,” Jaybird said. “Just what we need to brighten our day.”
“What you need to brighten your day is one of my marine oil paintings,” Bradford said. “I’ve got just the one for your den.”
“I don’t have a den.”
“For your living room.”
“Don’t need no damn painting.”
“Thought you might like it. It’s a lonesome pelican sitting on a piling staring at a charter fishing boat just pulling in.”
“Save me the trouble.”
“How is the new art group doing at the studio?” Murdock asked.
Bradford shrugged. “We’re paying the rent, and nobody is faking old masters.”
“The trial come yet?”
“Nope, her lawyer got it put off again. She’s out on bail. I fully expect her to skip out and be gone.”
“Hey, did any of you guys see rifles with that pair?” Jaybird asked. “I didn’t notice any long guns, no guns at all.”
Murdock scanned the scene with his Bull Pup scope. “No weapons show on this side of the ridge. They are in cammies. We’ll let the Forestry people and the local coroner figure it out.”
The SATCOM speaker came back on. “Murdock, this is Forestry Four. The chopper pilot is from the National Forest Air. He says his orders specifically prohibit any in-air pickups. You’ll have to find a flat LZ where the pilot can land. Do you copy?”
“Copy that, Forestry Four,” Murdock said. Now where in hell could they find a level LZ up in these ridges?
22
Jaybird snorted. “Chickenshit Forestry pilot. Hell, how far are we from where we landed?”
“About a mile and three ridges,” Lam said.
“Probably the closest good LZ we’ll find,” Murdock said. “Let’s haul ass back there and I’ll tell Four where we are.”
It took them more than a half an hour to climb the ridges, slide down the slopes, and find the small meadow where they had landed before.
Murdock told Forestry Four where they were, and within ten minutes the bird circled and came in for an easy landing. The pilot talked to Murdock.
“Hey, sorry about the change in plans. I’ve never done a rope pickup in my life. We don’t even have the rope ladders on here like you SEALs use. I’ve seen it done, but we just don’t do it. Then too, the wind gusts and currents around a ridgeline are murder to try to hover over. Best this way. Everybody gets to go right on drawing his regular paycheck.”
“No sweat. You know where we’re going?”
“Right. About six or seven miles to a rugged little dirt trail of a road. Not used much, so any rig on it will be suspect.”
“Let’s go find them,” Murdock said.
The bird took off and lifted over the green Oregon forest, and then angled more east until the pilot found the landmark he wanted. Murdock was in the cabin.
“There’s the road,” said the pilot. “Open only in the summer.”
“No cars.”
“Never are many. Let’s see if we can find our North Korean brethren.” They raced along over the road at two hundred feet. It wound around a mountain, lifted up a long narrow valley, and then over a low pass and down the other side. They both saw the dust trail at the same time.
“Got something,” the pilot said. He slanted down to a hundred feet and came up on the slow-moving car quickly, flashed over him, and did a climbing turn and hovered, as Murdock and the pilot watched the car. It slowed, stopped, and a man jumped out with a long gun. The pilot pivoted and raced away, moving from side to side, and then did a sweeping turn.
No shots hit the chopper, and the pilot looked relieved.
“Could be our boys,” Murdock said. “Curve in the road ahead and a small hill. Put us down behind it where they can’t see us, and we’ll stage a surprise party.”
The pilot nodded, and four minutes later they were on the ground and the pilot had lifted off and raced away from the spot. The road curved around the small hill and came straight toward them. Lots of cover and concealment. The SEALs split, two on each side of the road.
“We’ll let him show his colors first,” Murdock said. “Lam, when the rig is fifty feet from you, accidentally show yourself from behind that fir. Move out and then dart back and see if you can draw a shot.”
“Damn target practice again, and I’m the target,” Lam said.
“You love it, quit bitching,” Jaybird said.
The men in the car could see none of the SEALs as it rounded the curve and came straight ahead. Murdock figured it was doing about thirty miles an hour on the rough gravel road. The rig was an older Toyota. Murdock could see two heads in the car, but couldn’t make out faces.
At the right time, Lam stumbled out from his tree, then looked at the car and jolted back. A shot sounded from the car, and Murdock figured it was from a pistol. The round came nowhere near Lam. Murdock put a 5.56 round through the right front tire, blowing it out and bringing the car to a stop. Nobody in the car moved, and Murdock guessed the men were talking over their options. The heads had vanished below the dashboard.
To speed their decision, Murdock blew out the other front tire. A moment later the doors opened and a man came out on each side of the car. Both had their hands up, but each man still held a rifle. Jaybird zeroed in and fired, and hit the man on his side of the car in the thigh, jolting him backward against the Toyota, where he dropped to the ground, his rifle lost in his fall.
The other man darted for the woods, five yards away. Hot lead splashed all around him, and one round clipped his flailing right arm as he pounded for the brush. A moment later he had vanished.
“Your side, Lam, go get him,” Murdock ordered on the Motorola. Lam was twenty yards from the man’s entry point. He went into the brush where he was, and ten feet inside the timber he paused and listened. He heard the Korean crashing brush to the left. He ran that way, then paused and listened again. The sounds were softer then. Lam spurted ahead, determined not to lose the man. This time he ran flat out through the woods, dodging trees and brush, aiming at the last sound position. Only when he had covered fifty yards did he stop.
Yes, more crashing brush sounds and much closer now. Lam ran ahead again, quickly, not trying to be quiet. He had to run down the man or the Korean would vanish in the heavy timber. Lam adjusted his route a little. The Korean was charging along the side of the valley about fifty yards from the road. Where was he going? The Korean had a rifle. Lam didn’t forget that. He stopped and listened again. Still going. Running. How far could this guy run?
The next time Lam stopped to listen, he noticed they were closer to the road, barely in the fringes of the timber. Now as he listened, he could hear no brush crashing. The Korean had stopped. Lam used the Motorola. “Skipper, I’m still with the K. He’s near the road and stopped. I don’t know what he has in mind, but I can wait him out. My guess he’s about thirty, forty yards ahead of me and not moving. I’ll keep you posted. Out.”
Lam dropped to one knee and stared ahead. He could see the road, and up here it didn’t look like a car had been over it in months. There were grass and weeds growing in the center of the lane between where the car wheels rolled. This was wait time. He settled down against a tree and watched ahead where he figured the Korean had to be. He had a hunch about this one. He was smarter than the other one, and wouldn’t be easy to sneak up on. So Lam would wait.