Rick Hunter himself, traveling lightly, was established in position first, the big radio placed next to him by Lt. Bobby Allensworth. That radio was the link between Rick and all of the SEALs; through its VHF transmissions would flow all commands and minor plan changes. In a crisis the radio was the SEALs’ only lifeline, the only way they could access the carrier and send for help if the Chinese managed to bring in reinforcements. But the odds against that happening were heavy.
Team A also had a long walk to the north wall of the jail. They were there a few moments before Paul Merloni was almost shot dead by Buster Townsend, when the Italian New Yorker hissed, “Velly good work, Mr. Buster…velly fine job…you like my sister? She velly clean…”
Chief McCarthy almost exploded trying to stop laughing, not so much at Paul’s sophomoric humor, but at Buster’s instant assessment that this might be a real live Chinese person. They all needed a laughter break, even Rusty Bennett, and they chuckled silently together, standing under the trees, 100 yards from the north wall, still holding the seven heavily padded, black-covered ladders. Paul Merloni and two other SEALs had to leave immediately, since they were delivering satchel bombs to the members of Team A on the east side.
It was H minus 16 when Rusty ordered them to close into the wall, as soon as the two-man patrol vanished around the northwestern corner. And both he and Chief McCarthy, with John and Bill, eased forward, crawling on their stomachs, while two other SEALs established a big machine gun aimed straight at the northwestern watchtower. The other machine gun was already in position, aimed at the northeastern watchtower, and also in position to open fire anywhere along the eastern wall. The three British SAS men were hiding 40 yards from that wall, faces blackened, gloved and armed, ready to go over the top. Three other young SEALs, each of them holding one of the 40-pound satchels, were hidden five yards to the left of the SAS men, ready to follow them over the wall 13 seconds later. Right now it was H minus 15.
The admiral was on his way back from the Pentagon, and inside his office there were only two people, Kathy O’Brien and the President of the United States, who was, by any standards, totally distraught.
In the mind of the most powerful leader in the West, there was but one image, that of his only son Linus in a Chinese torture chamber, possibly having his fingernails ripped out or electrodes attached to him, all the grisly ideas used in both factual and fictional accounts of interrogation in Far Eastern countries.
And all he could think of was the terrified face of his little boy, and he couldn’t fight his own fears any longer, and his great shoulders heaved as he wept uncontrollably at the desk of his National Security Adviser.
Kathy had her arms around him, and she was desperate to stop the complete disintegration of the Chief Executive, desperate that no one should come in and see him like this. She had locked the door, and she was saying over and over, using his Christian name for the only time in her life, “No, John, please don’t. You mustn’t be this upset. Arnold says we have the matter in hand…he’s certain the SEALs will free him tonight.…Arnold will be back in a few minutes…he’s already left the Pentagon.…Just please don’t give in, sir…we have to have faith…I don’t know where I’d be without mine.”
The President made a huge effort, and he took from his pocket a large white handkerchief and wiped his tear-stained face dry, trying to regain his composure, trying to fight from his subconscious the reflection of Linus as a little boy. “Are you a Catholic?” he asked Kathy.
“Yessir. I am. My Irish family has been for centuries. How about you, sir?”
“I wish I were,” he replied. “They seem to gain a greater strength from their religion in times of trouble.”
“Oh, I think that’s to do with faith, sir. The stronger your faith, the easier it is.”
“But I was brought up to have faith. I just somehow wish it were the Catholic faith.…Kathy, what would your priest tell me to do right at this moment?”
“I cannot be sure, sir. But he would certainly mention that you must trust in the Lord, and that the Lord loves Linus as well as you, and that in the end he will keep him safe.”
“But he does not keep everyone safe, does he?”
“In his own way, he does. But that’s part of faith. You have to have it. That’s what trusting in the Lord is. And you must pray for him…my priest would tell you that…just one still, small voice…but it will be heard…I know that’s true, sir…you must pray…I am sure of that…why don’t we just pray now for the safe deliverance home of Linus…here, now, together. Two voices might be better than one…”
“Two still, small voices?” he smiled.
“Yessir. Here and now…and I think we should kneel.”
And so they did, and Kathy O’Brien said the words of a prayer she had been taught…and she recited them quietly. And then they prayed silently, until Kathy said, “Please, God, bring him home safely…with all of the others…in the name of our Lord Jesus Christ. Amen.”
As if on cue, the Archangel Gabriel from the Pentagon arrived outside the door and thundered on it with his right fist. Kathy stood up and opened it, and Admiral Morgan charged in, his left fist raised.
He glanced down at the President, but seemed not to notice that the great man was on his knees, and snapped, “This is it, sir. We got the bastards on the run now. You want the good news or the even better news?”
“I’ll take the good, then the even better.”
“Right. Now, the Russian news agency is reporting a major nuclear accident in the Navy yards at Canton. That’s the end of Seawolf, and it has plainly caused the most gigantic diversion in the South China Sea. Our pilot is safely back in the carrier.
“Next, the Special Forces are in, right now surrounding the jail, everything is in our favor, and everything is in place. This is a classic SEAL operation. They attack in ten minutes, and I shall personally be astounded if the submarine crew is not free and on its way home in the next two hours. How’s that?”
“I’d say pretty darned good. But tell me, why the overwhelming optimism?”
“Well, sir. Hitting the submarine was very difficult, but now we know the Chinese have something to be massively concerned about. I suspect all of their energies are being diverted to the disaster in Canton. In addition, the recon and then the insertion of the big Special Force were always the most dangerous. It’s getting in and remaining unseen that’s so critical. Once the guys are in, safe, and armed to the teeth with all the explosive they need, it’s dollars to doughnuts they’ll succeed against an unalerted enemy. And that’s the way I like it.”
“As a matter of fact, that’s the way I like it, too,” added the President as he prepared to return to the Oval Office. “By the way, Kathy, you don’t have a direct line up there, do you? Because it sure seems like you do.”
“No, sir. Not direct. But he does hear us.”
“Yes, Kathy. I guess he really does.”
Tonight there were two Chinese guard patrols outside the jail. One consisted of four men who walked “two walls” in front of the two-man patrol; thus one patrol never saw the other, since they each arrived at diametrically opposite corners at the same time. In fact, Rusty had noted that after about one hour, the four-man group did tend to catch the other up, and then would quite deliberately wait until the gap between them was again correct.
Tonight, in the heavy rain, it was taking each group 53 seconds to walk along the 50-yard-long north wall. The shorter east and west walls then took only 43 seconds, which meant that tonight there was a window of only 43 seconds for the four SEALs to cross the track completely out of sight of the guards, scale the wall and drag the padded ladders up behind them.