“Transport, Commander?”
“Two Sea Knights, to stay at the Maui airport at our disposal. Also, we’ll need to pick up all of our gear here including the EAR weapons. My men need a change of uniforms, a good meal, and we’ll be ready to go.”
“Sleep, Commander?”
“We’ll do that on the way to Maui.”
Four more officers sat around the big table in the admiral’s planning room.
“What about the radio?” Murdock asked. “We’ll be using the SATCOM.”
The admiral looked at one of the other officers, who spoke at once. “I can set up your transceiver to a clear channel. Take about five minutes. I’ll go back to your quarters with you.”
“Any restrictions on firing, sir?” Murdock asked.
“None. Remember, this is a civilian situation. Use your non-lethal when civilians or the hostages are involved. As for the Chinese, we want at least two of them alive to put on trial for the murder of little Patty.”
“Right, sir. We better get moving. We’ll work with Commander Johnson again for any equipment or resupply?”
“Correct.”
Murdock, DeWitt, and Dobler all stood, did about-faces, and walked out of the room. Lieutenant Commander Johnson stood outside waiting for them.
“We have two combat-equipped Sea Knights standing by at the runway at Hickam. I’ve had all of your gear brought together at the equipment room at your quarters.”
As they talked, the officer who’d spoken inside came out. He held out his hand.
“Commander Wilson. I’ll recalibrate your SATCOM and make some radio checks for you. Oh, thanks for getting our commo center back in operation. We only found one bullet hole in a piece of equipment, and that we replaced quickly.”
“Our job, Commander,” Murdock said.
A Humvee pulled up, and Johnson motioned the men into it.
Two hours later, fed, with fresh cammies and restocked ammo pouches and equipment, the Third Platoon stepped out of the Sea Knight chopper at the civilian airport near Kahului, Maui. Three white Ford extended vans met them on the tarmac, and they drove away. A short time later, they stopped on a vacant stretch of land overlooking the Pacific Ocean.
A specialist had come along to set up the triangulation equipment. He placed one receiver on the point of land, then took the other two ten miles away north and south and set them up. By 1600 they were ready.
Triangulation is a simple procedure whereby the three radio receivers will pick up a signal, each taking an accurate compass reading on it. The three directions are plotted automatically on a computer and where the three cross, that should be the place where the radio transmitter was operating. It does not always work. Sometimes there is distortion. Sometimes the transmitter is in a car or van and can be moving during transmission, and then keep on going afterward and be in an entirely new area.
This one had to work, Murdock told himself. They had nothing else.
Ron Holt made a radio check with CINCPAC and told them the trap was set. Ron changed his settings to pick up the CINCPAC frequency they would use to contact the kidnappers.
“We wait,” Murdock said.
Five minutes later the transmission went out. CINCPAC had a question about the amount of payback money for Chinese Naval ships sunk during the operation.
A reply came from the Chinese, but it was in a burst such as would come from a SATCOM-type radio. Lieutenant Hamlin watched the readout on his computer.
“A burst. Without a computer and enhancement, we wouldn’t have a prayer. With it we can get a shot at it.” The reports came in from the other listening posts by radio signal, and they were plotted on the computer and that overlaid on a map of the area, which had been preprogrammed into the computer.
Lieutenant Hamlin grinned. “Yes, we have a hit. It’s in a residential section of the small town of Keanae down the coast about twelve miles. I’ve got it about fifty feet south of an intersection there. We might get lucky.”
Two minutes later the van driver knew the location, and led the way with two of the vans loaded with SEALs. The lieutenant would try for another cross shot of any more transmissions.
They blasted down the coastal Highway 360 far above the speed limit, but they saw no traffic cops. It took them only ten minutes to hit the small town, then another five to find the right street. They parked a block away from the intersection, and saw a sprawling frame house halfway up the block. There were no other houses nearby.
“Could be it,” Murdock told the troops. They had unloaded, but stayed behind the vans.
“DeWitt, take your squad through the block here and see how close you can get to the back door. Don’t show yourself. We’ll work the front from across the street.” Bravo Squad moved out with Guns Franklin on the point.
Murdock looked at the two drivers. Both were young, clean-cut, and wore civilian clothes.
“Hey, drivers. You’ve just been promoted. You’re both Mormons on a mission. All you have to do is walk down the street, go up to that house, and knock on the door. See if you can raise anyone. My bet is that nobody will answer. Then walk on toward the next house way up the block.”
One of the drivers frowned. The other poked him in the shoulder. “Hey, you wanted in on some action. This is as close as we’ll get. Let’s do it.”
They talked together for a minute, then both shrugged and took the walk.
The two white vans were out of sight of the house. Murdock and three of his men bellied through the grass up to a point where they could see the house and watch the drivers. Murdock wished that he could be with the drivers.
The two men walked a little self-consciously up the sidewalk to the house. It was in bad repair, but looked occupied. One of them knocked on the front door.
Nothing happened.
They waited and then the same man knocked again. They heard somebody yell from inside. A third knock brought a sudden jerking open of the door and a Chinese man with rumpled hair and in his twenties.
“Sleeping, for God’s sakes,” he said. “Can’t you let a guy get some sleep? I work nights.”
“Sorry, we’re from the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints and wondered if you have a home church.”
“What the fuck are you saying? A church? Get the hell off my property. Come on, get off.”
Just after the man said it, a radio spoke in another room in the house with the smooth voice of the CINCPAC operator.
The driver shrugged. “Hey, we’re just trying to save your soul.”
The Chinese man slammed the door hard in their faces. They lifted their brows and walked away, but instead of going the long way, they cut back toward where their vans were parked.
Murdock watched them with a frown. He had seen the door open and the short talk. Maybe they’d heard something that would help. He and the others wormed back out of sight, then ran to the vans.
Harley, the more talkative of the two drivers, gave Murdock a play-by-play account of the meet.
“You say you heard a radio voice that you swear was the same one you heard on our radio from CINCPAC?”
“Swear to God, the same voice.”
Murdock looked at his watch. It was almost 1700. Be dark in two hours.
“We’ve got to move in before dark.” He knew the other squad had heard his talk with Harley the driver.
“DeWitt, you copied that?”
“That’s a Roger. We’re about forty yards from the back door. No fences. Two rear windows have heavy drapes on them. Inside, they are blind to us unless they move the drapes.”
“On my signal move up quietly, cover the rear windows and door.” Murdock looked around. They were fifty yards from the house. Windows on the side were not draped.