Nothing.
They moved on. Twice Franklin lost the track. He circled out twenty yards from his last sign and found new tracks heading in the same direction. They moved along the side of a small valley, just inside the tree line. Then Franklin stopped and wrinkled his nose.
“Wood smoke,” he said. “Either there’s a cabin up here with a fireplace, or our boys have started another fire.” He took off running through the fringe of trees and into the valley, which showed only a little brush. Ahead not a quarter of a mile they all saw a small plume of smoke.
They ran faster then, and at last had to stop. Franklin struggled forward at a walk, his Bull Pup down and ready. At the end of the little valley he went up a sharp slope, and when he looked over the top he saw the smoke.
Two men stood near the campfire-sized blaze, and they were pushing it into the brush and trees. Both wore cammies and had long guns. Without hesitation Franklin brought up the Bull Pup, lasered directly on the two men, and fired. The round exploded on a tree just in front of the two men, and one went down screaming. The other one darted behind a tree evidently unhurt.
DeWitt caught up with Franklin, saw the fire and the man down, and the two plunged down the slope toward the fire fifty yards ahead. They raced to the blaze, kicked what they could away from the brush, and stomped out the rest. Both were blackened with soot and smoke when Mahanani and Fernandez hurried up and finished off the fire-fighting duties.
“He went that way,” Franklin said, motioning ahead and up the side of a hill. Before the words were out of his mouth, a rifle bullet slapped into a tree a foot from his head and the SEALs dove behind protection.
“I’m on him,” Mahanani said, and darted to the side into some brush and then up the slope. He had no idea how to track a man. He’d been watching Lam and now Franklin, but still he wasn’t sure. Scuff marks he could find, and broken branches. He’d watch for movement of brush. He gained the top of the hill without getting shot, and peered over the crest.
Nothing but green Oregon timber below and the start of a small stream. He took it by areas, watching one section at a time. Yes, there. Just to the right of the creek, brush moved where someone or some animal had gone through. He put a 20mm round into the brush and as soon as the round fired, he charged down the slope toward the target. He didn’t go gracefully or without noise. He crashed brush and dodged trees and came to the spot he had fired at quickly. He found a riddled clump of brush, a tree with some bark blown off, and on the ground some spots of blood.
Now he studied the ground carefully. It was full of grass and weeds and young fir trees a foot high. Twice he found drops of blood and the trail led downstream. Again he crashed forward, unmindful of the danger or the wisdom of such a move. He just wanted to catch up with the little guy and nail his hide to the wall.
The creek took a jog to the right, and around that bend he came to a more open area where the stream picked up water and had carved out a small valley. Near the end of it he saw the man limping along. Smoothly, Mahanani lifted the Pup and lasered a round on the man. The enemy was about seventy-five yards downstream, and the round went off almost at the same time as the report of the weapon.
The North Korean firebug had just taken a step forward. He never completed it. His foot hit the dirt as more than a dozen shards of shrapnel from the 20mm round blasted into his head and shoulders after detonating twenty feet above him. He crumpled to the ground.
Mahanani dropped to his knees and wiped sweat from his forehead. He flipped down the Motorola mike from where it had rotated against his floppy hat.
“Now hear this,” Mahanani said. “The second little bastard is now communing with his ancestors. Scratch the other half of this firebug team.”
“Copy that,” DeWitt said. “Make your way back to where we dropped the first one. We’re still making sure that this fire is completely out. We’ll wind up the SATCOM and see if we can get a lift out of this forest wonderland.”
“Where are they gonna land?” Mahanani asked.
“Probably back at the same spot where they dropped us off. We’ll move that way after you get here.”
“I’m coming. Not even bothering with getting this guy’s weapon as a souvenir.”
DeWitt had Fernandez set up the SATCOM. It took three tries before he got the small fold-out dish antenna positioned right so it looked through the trees to find the satellite. On the fourth call they made it to Forestry Four.
“Yes, Four. This is DeWitt. You can cross out that two-man team in here by the old burn where you dropped us. They are down and out. They started another fire, but we got there in time to snuff it as well.”
“DeWitt, good work. The State Police nailed one pair of firebugs and a sheriff’s detail grabbed another pair. We think that’s all of them. No more assignments. You can fly back to Portland now.”
“Have the chopper pilot pick us up where he dropped us off by the old burn,” DeWitt said.
“Copy that, DeWitt, by the old burn. Should be there in about thirty.”
Fernandez turned off the set, folded up the dish antenna, stowed it with the SATCOM, and they moved out toward the burn area.
“Maybe two miles,” Mahanani said. “Then I’m due for one of Jaybird’s little naps.”
It was forty-five minutes before the chopper arrived to pick them up, but DeWitt didn’t mind. It gave him time to think about this whole operation. What in hell were the North Koreans trying to do besides cause a little hell? Saving face? How could you save face when your teams were smashed and crushed and captured? He’d never understand the Oriental mind, but he had to keep trying.
Murdock and his men waited at the Portland airport for De Witt to fly in. The same business jet that had brought them to Portland was serviced and ready to go. The SEALs climbed on board and settled into the airliner seats.
“Now this is more in keeping with my station in life,” Jaybird said as he leaned back in the soft seat.
“Your train station just went out of business, chatterbox,” Mahanani said. “Now don’t bother me while I take a Jaybird kind of nap.”
“The big kid learns fast,” Jaybird said, and closed his eyes.
Murdock talked with the pilot. In two and a half hours they would be home. Not a bad afternoon’s work. He wondered if the North Koreans were done. They had inflicted a lot of damage, killed over two hundred people, set fires, blown up an airliner, caused a horrendous blackout in the Western states that must have cost business firms billions of dollars in lost revenue and services. They’d sent missiles into San Francisco and hijacked a luxury liner. Besides that, they’d captured and almost made off with the President of the United States. How could they have done all of this? Who coordinated the whole thing and where did they operate from? Not from the North Korean frigate. It was just a player in the game, not the leader.
They had to have a GHQ somewhere. He’d have to think on that. It would be good to be home. Maybe Ardith would drop in. He dozed off thinking about her. Now there was a woman. Oh, yeah. He hoped she’d show up again in San Diego real soon.
23
It was dark when they landed at North Island and went by van to their quarters on the strand. The men cleaned their weapons, reloaded their combat vests with the usual ammo and supplies, and checked out over the Quarter Deck.
Murdock and DeWitt sat in the small office, not quite ready to give it up for the day.
“Where in hell did these Koreans come from?” DeWitt asked. “Been wondering if they might have arrived by commercial air. They did a lot of planning for this series of strikes.”
“Been bugging me too, DeWitt. They must have a control group somewhere, a headquarters. We better find it and wipe it out or we could have these hit-and-run attacks for months.”