Despite his resoluteness, Chad barely made it through the training, as he struggled more with his natural clumsiness than with a lack of zeal or courage. In the end it was his stubborn, bulldog attitude that finally won over the instructors. Here was a guy who wouldn't quit; who would keep fighting and busting his balls until there wasn't a breath left in his body.
Now he was seriously considering disregarding family traditions by not returning home to finish school and begin a banking career in the family firm. At this time in his life, the idea of not being a SEAL or one of Brannigan's Brigands was beneath consideration as far as Petty Officer Third Class Chadwick Murchison was concerned. He scorned everything in his past life, including Penny Brubaker, the girl who dumped him. It was like the guys in the platoon always said, "Turn the broads upside down and they all look alike."
A movement to the front caught Chad's attention, and he instantly recognized the figures of Dave Leibowitz and Mike Assad approaching the position. He could tell by their actions they were in an easy mood, and he stood up so the Odd Couple could see him. He nodded to them as they walked up. "Anything interesting out there?"
Mike shook his head. "Just a village like they told us in Isolation."
"The fucking terrain out there looks like the high desert in California," Dave added. "Remember that training operation at Trona south of the China Lake Weapons Center? Same thing exactly."
They went back to the area where Bill Brannigan had set up his command post with Senior Chief Dawkins. Both squatted down in front of the honchos while Dave gave the report. "Nothing there, sir. I'd hate to have to attack the place though. There's dozens of places in those knocked down buildings for cover and concealment."
Dawkins took a bite of his PowerBar. "Did it look like anybody had been there lately?"
"It's hard to pick up tracks on the hard ground," Dave said. "But nobody's obviously lived there for a hell of a long time."
"Deserted," Mike pronounced.
"Well, I hope that defector shows up sometime tonight," Brannigan said. "Okay, guys. Take a break. Send Lieutenant Cruiser, Chief Gunnarson and Puglisi over here."
"Aye, sir," Dave said.
A couple of minutes later the three SEALs responded to the firm invitation and joined the skipper and senior chief in the bucolic headquarters. Brannigan shifted his seat on the rocks he had been warming with his buttocks. "Assad and Leibowitz say there's nothing at the site. I want you three to go over there and see if somebody shows up for a meet. Take off at oh-two-hundred and wait until oh-five-hundred. If nothing happens by then, we'll have to try again tomorrow night."
"What if more than one guy shows up?" Jim Cruiser asked.
"Don't make contact in that case," Brannigan said. "We'll try again. If there're two of 'em, the next time we'll take a chance. But not now."
"Gotcha, sir," Cruiser said. He checked his watch. "Hell! We've got time for a two-hour nap."
.
VILLAGE RUINS
9 AUGUST
0100 HOURS LOCAL
BAS HAR Abzai led his group of ten mujahideen into the rubble to set up for another period of waiting and watching. During the hike to the site, which started late because he had so much trouble rounding up the men, he had begun to wonder if this was some useless situation that wasn't going to amount to much. They really didn't have a lot of solid information to go on except a confession tortured out of a frightened man. Abzai wasn't so sure about that method of interrogation. He'd seen it a lot in the past, and most prisoners would end up saying anything, if only to get the awful pain to stop. But just the same, he had brought along an old Russian flare pistol and a half dozen star shells in case there was some validity to the situation.
After he placed everybody into proper firing positions, he settled down in one of the higher piles of rubble so he could keep an eye on everything. As he sat there, Abzai began to think about his promotion to sergeant. That was the first time he had ever heard rank mentioned in the warlord's band. Most people were called by whatever their jobs happened to be at a particular time. There were patrol leaders, senior guards, snipers, bombers and all that. Warlord Durtami had made him a sergeant. Abzai wondered if that meant a raise in his share of the money that was divided among the mujahideen when they sold the poppy gum, or ransomed hostages.
He looked out over the terrain to their front. He couldn't see a blessed thing. The darkness was as deep and black as the inside of one of the caves up in the mountains. They would have to rely on sounds if they were to catch anybody. He suddenly remembered the flare pistol, and loaded it. At the first disturbance, he would fire it off so he and his men could at least see what was going on for fifteen seconds or so.
A sudden snort, followed by snoring, broke the silence of the night. Abzai angrily got to his feet and stumbled toward the sound. He found one of the men leaning back against an old hearth, sleeping.
"Wake up!" Abzai exclaimed angrily, kicking him hard. "Ow!" the mujahideen said. He got to his feet. "I shall cut your throat for that!"
"And the warlord will cut yours!" Abzai sneered. "Are you forgetting I am a sergeant by his personal command?"
The fellow rubbed his sore leg. "I do not even know what a sergeant is."
"It is a rank of authority," Abzai said, "like in the army, understand, bumpkin? And if you fall asleep again, I shall turn you over to Hamid the Jailer. Is that what you want? He can give you pain that is a thousand times worse than what you feel now. Shall we go see Hamid when we get back in the morning?"
"Na," the man said, shaking his head. "I will not fall asleep again."
"See that you don't," Abzai said.
He went back up to his own position to continue the night's waiting.
.
SEAL CP
0155 HOURS LOCAL
LIEUTENANT Jim Cruiser led Chief Gunnarson and Puglisi over to where the skipper and Senior Chief Dawkins sat in the rocks. "We're ready to move out, sir."
"You're going to have to play it by ear," Brannigan cautioned him. "That defector may be one of those nervous nellies who'll shoot first and ask questions later."
"Unless he has a night vision capability, we'll have a distinct advantage over him," Cruiser pointed out. "See you later. If nothing happens, we should be back here by oh-five-thirty."
The three-man contact team moved through the defensive perimeter and down toward the valley.
.
VILLAGE RUINS
0230 HOURS LOCAL
AS soon as the bombed-out village was spotted via the night vision goggles, Cruiser ordered Chief Gunnarson and Puglisi to hit the ground. "Have you got anything in that M-203?" the lieutenant asked.
"HE, sir."
"Good," Cruiser said. "You two stay here. I'm going to move a little closer. If I receive fire, cut loose with that HE grenade. I'll pull back while the bad guys duck their heads."
"Aye, sir."
"Then we'll make a firing withdrawal for only a few seconds," Cruiser said. "When we stop shooting, we'll move directly down the valley to the south. They won't be able to see which way we've gone. Everybody understand?"
"Affirmative," Chief Gunnarson replied.
Cruiser moved slowly toward the village, glad he didn't have to worry about being a silhouette because of the mountain behind him. A movement in the shadows off to one side caught his eye. He waited. Then it moved again. He eased toward it for another ten meters before kneeling down. Suddenly the sounds of somebody urinating could be heard. It stopped, then the figure moved from right to left.