Free Tropical Terror by Keith Douglass Page A

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.
    â€œYou say you heard a radio voice that you swear was the same one you heard on our radio from CINCPAC?”
    â€œSwear to God, the same voice.”
    Murdock looked at his watch. It was almost 1700. Be dark in two hours.
    â€œWe’ve got to move in before dark.” He knew the other squad had heard his talk with Harley the driver.
    â€œDeWitt, you copied that?”
    â€œThat’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.”
    â€œOn 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.
    â€œWindows in the front of the house, Harley. Were they covered or open?”
    â€œBlinds drawn. That old kind that you pull down and roll up. Closed off tight.”
    â€œLieutenant, any more transmissions from the house?”
    The specialist looked up from his laptop computer. “One more that plotted about twenty feet from the first one.”
    â€œAlpha Squad, we’re moving in. We have to get in front of the place first. Give us two minutes, DeWitt. Then we’ll signal and both walk up to the place together.”
    It worked that way. Murdock heard nothing from inside the house. At the front door Bill Bradford lifted his size-thirteen boot and blasted the door open. It swung inside and Murdock was first through the open door, slanting right. Jaybird dove to the left.
    â€œClear,” both SEALs said at the same time. They heard excited voices from another room. Murdock and Jaybird were on their feet looking through a connecting door.
    They heard a crash that might have been the back door being kicked open. A handgun barked in one of the rooms. That sound was followed by a three-round burst from a submachine gun, and then another burst.
    When the sound tapered off, the earpieces spoke.
    â€œWe have two prisoners and one KIA,” Ed DeWitt said. “Are you inside, Alpha?”
    â€œInside and holding front two rooms. Move toward us carefully.”
    Just then a man stormed through the open door from the second room. Jaybird, standing near the door, heard him coming and clubbed him with the stock of his Bull Pup, swinging it like a baseball bat. The Chinese man went down in a heap of arms and legs. Jaybird promptly cuffed him with riot plastic strips.
    Ed DeWitt peered through the door. “Clear up to here,” he said.
    â€œOn the net. Everyone search this place. We need an address, a phone number, photos, anything that would tell us where the hostages might be. Move it.”
    They looked for half an hour, tearing the place apart. It had been unused for a long time and the recent occupants hadn’t even messed up a coat of dust. It wasn’t hard to see what had been moved and where such information might be.
    â€œNot a fucking thing,” Jaybird said. “We’ve been over this place with our fine-tooth a dozen times. No number on a scrap of paper. No note on a sleeping bag. Nothing.”
    â€œHow many live ones do we have?” Murdock asked.
    â€œThree and one KIA,” DeWitt said.
    â€œSeparate them and interrogate,” Murdock said. “Try in English, then let