pervading his entire body and mind. “And the American submarine blows up a few hours before.”
He stood up, and said, “Thank you, Lieutenant.” To his friend Zu Jicai, he said, “Jicai, we are under attack. The coincidences are too great.”
Admiral Zu looked slightly helpless. He stood up and said, “You mean the Americans?”
“Who do you think I mean,” he snapped, “the Tibetans?” All semblance of self-control was receding with the onset of the admiral’s mounting anger.
“You mean they are on the island?”
“I don’t know. But I think it’s possible.”
“Well, how did they get there? Is this an invasion?”
“I underestimated them,” he muttered. “Jicai, I underestimated them. And I have done it before. No one knows how ruthless the Americans are when they have their backs to the wall. I just wonder, is there anything left for me…what can I do…how can I save face?”
Lt. Commander Rick Hunter could now hear only sporadic fire as Lieutenant Merloni and his men tried to wipe out the six guards on the outer rim. The first four had been simple, gunned down as they raced back clockwise from the north wall at the first sound of the guardroom blowing up.
The last two had come around the other way, very quickly, seen the direction of the SEAL machine gunfire, and opened up in the correct direction. They had not hit anyone, and one of them had gone down. But he regained his feet and ran back around the wall with his colleague, and they had escaped in the confusion.
Rick Hunter and his men had loosed off ultrabright flares to illuminate the area, and Lieutenant Merloni had pursued. But it was not successful, and they all believed both the Chinese to be still alive in the woods, which was bad news, but unavoidable. And it was both pointless and dangerous to continue pursuit in the darkness of the jungle, where anyone could be hit and killed.
Rick Hunter decided that now was the time and, signaling for Bobby Allensworth to bring the big machine gun, he and two other SEALs began to work their way down the hill and across the still dust-blown area in front of the buildings. For the first time, he noticed the rain had stopped.
And now the massive SEAL commander walked down by the light of the burning fuel dump. All around him were the men who had caused such havoc in the Chinese jail, falling in with him, walking tall, their submachine guns held out in front of them, many of them with their bandanas scorched black from the smoke, especially those who had been close to the burning fuel and the explosions inside the jail.
Rusty Bennett appeared from nowhere, covered in blood, and announced that he was on his way to the pickup point of the beach.
“You hurt, Rusty?” asked Rick, somewhat alarmed at the sight of his 2 I/C, who looked as if he had just gone three rounds with Mike Tyson.
“No, not me. I’m fine.”
“Guess someone must have got hurt right next to you, huh?”
“Guess so. See you later, Chief.”
The searchlights were still on, but Chief McCarthy and his men were coming out of the main gates now, and all three of them were variously splattered with blood.
Rick just shook his head at the unending courage of the men he fought with. “Great job, guys,” he said. “Just a great job.”
Olaf, Catfish, Buster, Rattlesnake, Syd, Fred and Charlie arrived outside the gates next, all of them covered in either mud, dust, blood, or smoke burns. As soldiers go, they looked ghastly with their black faces, grim expressions and long strides forward.
“Terrific job, guys,” said Rick again. To the three bloodstained SAS men, he just said, “A special thank you, gentlemen. We’re all grateful for the real rough end of the mission you carried out.”
“Don’t mention it, Ricky my old son,” said Syd jauntily. “All in the line of duty.”
“A bit beyond that,” said the SEAL commander. “Now, gentlemen, let’s go and get the guys free…and for Christ’s sake be careful inside the cell blocks. There’s armed Chinese guards in there, as we know, so don’t fire randomly or we might hit the prisoners.
“Let’s go…nice and careful…fire to kill, but selectively.”
11
Lt. Commander Rick Hunter issued his last orders before entering the wide gap where the main jail gates had been a few minutes earlier. “Okay, guys…we know there are still Chinese guards in here, in the cell blocks, and possibly in the building on the left as we enter. Therefore we go in as if we’re attacking a fortified area…strong frontal attack, heavy covering fire against the cell block, but don’t, for Christ’s sake, hit anyone inside.”
“Sir, what’s the door to the main cell block made of, and is it likely to be locked? Don’t wanna get caught outside against the wall with our shorts down, right?”
“I’m assuming it’s steel, Paul…anyone know better?”
“The door on the individual cell block on the right is steel,” said Syd Thomas. “And it was locked. I gave it a shove, turned the ’andle and it never budged.”
“Okay, let’s blow it right now. Det-cord, someone…”
“Right here, Rick.” Dan Conway had a big reel he’d been carrying around for five minutes in anticipation of this.
“Who’s going?”
“I’ll do it,” said Buster. “I got fucking speed to burn.”
They all laughed as the SEAL from the bayous grabbed the loose end and told Dan to hang on to the reel and play it out. “Right now I’m gone…”
Buster flew through the lefthand side of the gateway and made for the small cell block on the left, racing into the shadows. He paused for a moment and then ran along the edge of the wall, just as a machine gun opened up from the main cell block window. They all saw Buster go down, and Rick ordered instant gunfire at the window from which the fire had come.
Steve Whipple delivered it from the big machine gun he had positioned just inside the gate behind the rubble of the guardroom. The clatter of the gun silenced the Chinese resistance for the moment, and as it did so, Buster sprang to his feet and charged on to the door, still holding the end of the det-cord.
They all saw him reach the door and start winding the stuff around the handle and the gap around the lock. He reached for his knife, wound another length in around the hinges and then spliced the ends together.
Then he turned and raced back the way he had come, just as Steve pounded another 25 rounds through the silent window.
“Fuck me,” said Rick. “I thought they got you.”
“What? Those assholes? I’ve fought fucking alligators a lot more scary than them. Blow it out, Dan.”
Lieutenant Conway cut the length of cord and hit the fuse, instantly blasting the steel door off its hinges and leaving it leaning halfway into the cells.
Rick Hunter signaled his 20 troops in, and they set off at a jog for the main cell block, with Steve Whipple still firing short, steady bursts at the window where once there had been machine-gun fire.
Twenty yards from the block, the giant SEAL leader increased his pace and made for the door. He slammed his boot into it, kicking it in, and swung right, firing from the hip straight down the outer corridor, at the same time yelling, “All right, guys. This is a force of the United States Navy here to liberate our prisoners. Any Chinese guards, come out with your hands high.”
Dan Conway stood at Rick’s shoulder just as the two duty guards burst from cover at the end of the corridor and opened fire. At least, they tried to open fire, but Rick Hunter and Dan Conway cut them down in their tracks with their trusty MP-5s. Each of the Chinese guards took 10 rounds before they hit the floor.
