We'd rendezvoused with the underway replenishment ammunition ship earlier, and I'd on-loaded a ration of heavy-duty bombs designed to penetrate concrete bunkers. They'd worked well in Desert Storm and Desert Shield, and I thought that probably they'd do the job against the Vietnamese revetments as well. Still, I didn't have all that many of them ? it would make them a better target if I could have the SEALs soften them up a little beforehand.
'Tell Brandon to get ready,' I decided. 'I want to see him as soon as he's ready to talk.'
They make bigger SEALS, they make stronger ones, but they don't make them any tougher than Brandon Sykes. He'd been pulling aviators' asses out of the fire his last twelve years in the Navy, along with conducting the other types of covert-insertion missions for which his community was justly famous. You look at him, you see a guy who looks like he's in pretty good shape. Not the bulging arms and forearms you get with Marines, but just a guy who works out a lot.
You'd be making a mistake. What's more, he's smart as he is tough. That makes Brandon Sykes a very deadly combination.
'Admiral, I'd like to go in by helo to the two-mile point, then drop and inflate RHIBs and proceed by boat. From what Commander Busby says about their surveillance assets in the area, I figure that gives us the best chance of getting in undetected.' Brandon was soft-spoken and polite.
I started to ask some technical questions about the insertion, but looking at Lab Rat and Brandon, at the united front they were presenting, I knew there was not much point in it. We hire the best talent we can, then turn them loose. 'You cleared this with CAG?' I asked.
Brandon nodded. 'He's good to go with it, sir.'
'When do you want to leave?' I asked.
Brandon looked thoughtful for a moment, then said, 'With your permission, I'd like to get underway about zero one hundred. That'll put us on the beach by two, and in the area of the revetments by three. A little while to sneak and peek, do some damage, then we haul ass out of there. We'll be using timed explosives ? a little bit risky, but I want to make sure we're clear of the area before they know they're fucked.'
I nodded. 'Let's make it happen, gentlemen. You go boom in the early hours, then I'll follow with an early morning air strike. How's that?'
Both men nodded. 'Of course, we thought that might be what you wanted to do,' Lab Rat added. 'Strike's already signed off on it as well.'
I grunted. 'Not much point in having an admiral around, is there? Seems to me like between you two and Strike, you've got it all figured out.'
Brandon stood, a slow and easy smile on his face. 'Oh, there's plenty of reason to have an admiral around, sir. We can come up with the plans okay ? but you're the only one who can say yes.'
I threw the two of them out of my office so they could get some work done, then turned back to the unending pile of paper that continually seeped into my in basket.
J-TARPS wasn't the only innovation in virtual reality that had entered the fleet. Even though I'd seen them discussed in newspapers, and on television, I'd never actually worked with the new visual-link helmet that the SEAL community now owned. As Lab Rat switched on the monitors, I sat quiet and stunned.
Sykes had shown me the headset. It looked more like a helmet built out of steel than anything else. Mounted along his left temple was a very tiny pinpoint camera. The usual whisper communications giving satellite voice comms with units in the field had been improved to allow for an open-mike capability. Now, Brandon could leave it turned on and transmit everything he heard straight to me. He also had a control switch to prevent me from transmitting, so that he could be certain that no questions from higher authority would echo while he was in the field and give him away. I didn't intend to put him in danger that way.
We'd agreed that Brandon would not activate his headset until after the helicopter drop and when they were safely en route to the beach. Lab Rat had been keeping track of the time, and woke me from a quick nap when they were under way.
At first, all I could see on the monitor was black. Vague shapes and forms, shifting shadows, but that was it.
Then Sykes turned his head. I could see the other SEALs in the boat, a little bit fuzzy, but their faces clearly discernible. They were communicating in hand signals, even this far out from the shore. A good habit to be in when you're making a quick foray into enemy territory.
The small boat engine was a muffled puttering sound in the background, hardly even audible over the link. The silenced engine also cooled the exhaust, another small innovation courtesy of Stealth technology, so the boat itself produced no discernible heat signature. The men inside it were another matter ? even clad in wet suits, I knew they would soon be radiating visible signatures.
'Any sign they've been detected?' I asked Lab Rat.
He shook his head. 'I just checked the TAO, and there's no indication of any unusual activity ashore. Not there, or on our other assets,' he said, glancing back at the array of sophisticated electromagnetic listening equipment that terminated here. 'Not a peep.'
'Let's hope it stays that way.' Watching the boat move in to the shore quickly became boring, unless you kept in mind what they were actually doing. It was like watching OJ drive down the freeway at thirty miles an hour in a white Bronco ? meaningless, unless you knew the context.
Brandon was looking forward now, and I could see the shore looming into view. It was a dark smudge against the blacker sky. It was slightly overcast tonight, with a new moon. That had been the deciding factor in the decision to go in at night, I suspected.
The boat ground onto the shore with a soft, sibilant sound. I caught glimpses of their activities as Brandon supervised the disembarking, and hiding the RHIBs in nearby cover. He left one man on guard, and the rest of them set out for the airfield.
'Is something wrong with the sound?' I asked Lab Rat.
He checked his instruments, then shook his head. 'No. Why?'
'No reason.' I wasn't about to explain that the SEALs were moving so silently through the dense jungle that I thought we had an equipment failure. I didn't want that getting back to Sykes, even as a backhanded compliment.
It took them an hour and a half to make it to the perimeter of the airfield and base. Once there, Brandon sat motionless for at least twenty minutes. I tapped my fingers impatiently, waiting for something to happen, then realized that it probably was. As the leader of the team, Brandon was hanging back and coordinating.
Then he moved, so silently and slowly that at first I missed it. It was a slow, careful slither through the underbrush, and from what I could see, not a branch around him moved. Without the pictures, I never would have believed just how invisible a SEAL can be in deep cover.
Then I saw what had attracted his attention. A two-man patrol, their voices now reaching the microphone at his lips. He'd heard them well before I had, and had moved into position. But for what?
I got my answer shortly. Brandon raised one hand and positioned it in front of the camera. There was a long, pale strip in his hand. It loomed at me now, filling the screen, wiggled, then held still.
'What the-?' I turned to Lab Rat. 'We've lost the picture?'
'It was a stupid comment. Lab Rat didn't say anything, just stared at me.
Then I understood. Maybe Brandon had briefed him, but probably Lab Rat had just figured it out himself. There was something going on on the ground that Brandon didn't want me to see. Whether because he was protecting me or his men, it was important to him that my silent, watchful presence at the scene be eliminated.
Then the sound went dead. For about five seconds I was completely cut off from the SEAL team. Then I saw Brandon's hand appear, ripping away the covering over his camera, and I heard the small night noises of the jungle. I caught another glimpse of the thing that had obscured my vision earlier.
'A Band-Aid?' I asked. 'Do they carry them all the time for just that purpose?'
Still, Lab Rat was silent.
And the guards were nowhere in sight.
Just exactly what had he done? Shot them? He must have, because there had not been time for him to approach them on foot and eliminate them. And I was certain that that was exactly what had occurred.
'He can't-' I began.
