Free Tropical Terror by Keith Douglass

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.
    â€œWe 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.
    â€œA 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 thecoast 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.
    â€œCould be it,” Murdock told the troops. They had unloaded, but stayed behind the vans.
    â€œDeWitt, 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.
    â€œHey, 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 asudden jerking open of the door and a Chinese man with rumpled hair and in his twenties.
    â€œSleeping, for God’s sakes,” he said. “Can’t you let a guy get some sleep? I work nights.”
    â€œSorry, we’re from the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints and wondered if you have a home church.”
    â€œWhat the fuck are you saying? A church? Get the hell off my property. Come on, get off.”
    Just after the man