Free Payback by Keith Douglass Page B

shades on in the bar. Could have been almost anybody. Now can I get to see a doctor?”
    â€œYou want to press charges of assault and battery with a lethal weapon?” the sheriff asked Murdock.
    â€œToo much bother.”
    The sheriff turned to a deputy. “Take him to the emergency room and dump him off. No charges. And be sure that hundred-dollar bill is still in his billfold.”
    When the wounded man had left, Murdock and the sheriff sat alone in the interrogation room.
    â€œSo, did you get to the tower?” the sheriff asked.
    â€œOh, yes. I’m sure they have some kind of sonar protection around the tower so they can spot boats or swimmers coming in. I don’t know how they do it. They put three armed divers in the water to greet me. One of them is going to be sleeping with the fishes tonight, another one has a speargun dart in his upper chest, and the third one swam away.”
    â€œThirteen,” Sheriff Kirkendol said.
    â€œWhat?”
    â€œThat must be the thirteenth man you’ve killed. Glad that’s out of my jurisdiction. Did you find anything out there?”
    â€œI can’t tell you, not until I tell some other people. But I thank you for your help. I’m heading back to San Diego.”
    â€œJust like that?”
    â€œIt’s a federal case, Sheriff. I’ve got to report it. If we can give you any help on your case, we will. Right now I’m due back in the squad room down in Coronado. Thanks for your help. Don’t worry, I’ll clean up the blood that good old J. J. got on my Explorer.”
    â€œFederal? Murdock, I don’t understand.”
    â€œYou don’t have to. Just don’t talk about that other oil rigout there. Something should be happening soon. You take care now.”
    Â 
    It was almost midnight when Murdock gassed his Explorer and headed out for home. Three hours, maybe three-and-a-half drive time to get down to Coronado. Shouldn’t be any traffic this time of night, and if he pushed it a little, he might get in some sleep tonight before calling Don Stroh at 0600. If he was lucky the spook would be in his office by 0900 Washington, D.C., time. Murdock pictured the solid structure built on the bottom of the Santa Barbara Channel about two miles offshore. What in hell was it? Who put it down there? What could it possibly be used for? Why would the protectors kill anyone snooping around? He wanted some answers, and he knew Don Stroh would too.

5
NAVSPECWARGRUP-ONE
Coronado, California
    At 0615 Murdock stormed through the Quarter Deck, waved at the night watch still on duty, and hurried to his small office in SEAL Team Seven, Third Platoon. He picked up the unsecure phone and dialed the number of Don Stroh at his CIA office in Arlington, Virginia. The spook answered on the fourth ring.
    â€œYeah, I’m here but I’m not awake. Haven’t even had my coffee yet. What’s up?”
    â€œGood morning to you too, Super Spook. You know my voice. This is not a secure line. Get your SATCOM out and warmed up. I’ll be calling you in ten minutes on something important.”
    â€œMurdock, you’re drunk again, right? What the hell is this? A secure line. When do we use a secure line?”
    â€œAlmost always, like when I catch more eatable fish than you do. Get somebody who can run a SATCOM for you and get it tuned in and turned on. Fifteen minutes. Be there. I’ve got to find my SATCOM.”
    â€œYou’re not joking.”
    â€œI never joke when I have to get up after three hours of sleep. Now get cracking.” Murdock hung up, went to the equipment storage closets, and took out one of three SATCOMs they used. He set it up in his office with the dish antenna pointing out the window. He had to open the window to get it to give off the beep to show it was properly aligned with one of the satellites. Then he checked his watch. His stopwatch dial showed eight minutes had elapsed since