Heckler & Koch 9mm MP5-PDW submachine gun, 6
HICS (head-in-cement syndrome), 140
HK’s International Training Division, 6
holster, 98, 114
honey traps, 37
Hornady XTP bullets, 6
Huang T’ai Kung, 158
Humpback, USS, 41n, 316
Hussein, Saddam, 32
hypoxia, 326
I
IMPOTUS (IMprobable President of the United States), 39
Inman, Bobby Ray, 286
Iran-Contra affair, 67, 278
Israel Defense Forces, 64
IVY CHARM, 104
J
JCS (Joint Chiefs of Staff), 65, 173, 174, 258n, 286-87, 316
journalism, 89-91
K
Kamov “Hokum” chopper, 4
Katavtsvev, Igor, 282
KGB, 67
and Mossad, 68
surveillance devices of, 37-38, 45, 103-04
Khrushchev, Nikita, 37
KISS (Keep It Simple, Stupid), 103, 329
Kojiro Okinaga, 229
L
Lantos, Werner, 149, 254, 304
background of, 74-75
burglary of offices, 257-84
business dealings of, 72-73, 75-76, 188-89, 281-82
capture of, 355, 356-57, 358-59, 361-62, 366, 367-68
as CIA agent, 190-91, 228, 313, 314-15, 359
departure for Middle East, 287
and dual-use technology, 76-77, 142, 170
at Dynamo club, 75, 85-86, 87-88, 89, 91, 141
meeting with Marcinko, 210-24, 228, 314
money laundering operation of, 150, 231
Paris headquarters of, 208-10
Lantos & Cie, 28-29, 33, 36, 151, 170, 188-89, 208
LAPD caress, 272
laser rule, 113
laser targeting device, 358
LeClerc, Henri and Collette, 199-201, 250-51, 255-56, 280
Leeson, Nicholas, 280
LEGAT (LEGal ATtaché), 49, 53
LEKEM (Leshkat Kesher Madao), 68
Li’ang Hsi-Huey, 34
Liddy, G. Gordon, 215
low ready, 113
Lyondale, Geoff, 14
Lyons, Ace, 42
M
MacDill Air Force Base, 101
Magellan Trailblazer MGRS (Military Grid Reference System), 311, 327, 338, 343
Mahon, Becky, 10, 50
Mahon, Paul, 41-42, 50, 72-73, 75, 169, 185, 362, 367
discovery of sting operation, 315, 359, 367
murder of, 8-10, 18-19, 29, 40, 89, 119, 141, 214-15, 221, 306
Russian Mafiya investigation of, 12, 13, 20, 32, 35, 36, 91, 148-49, 169
Makarov, Boris, 10-12, 13, 15, 30, 62
in dacha operation, 3-4, 8, 24-25, 25, 27, 93
reliability of, 47
Mao Zedong, 25-26
Marcinko, Richard and Baghdad plan, 334
burglary of Lantos & Cie, 257-60, 280-84
and chain of command, 16-17, 134-37, 174
cover in Paris, 195-97
covert mission in Moscow, 50-51, 72-76
dacha operation of, 3-8, 15-29, 88, 92, 93
detailed to Joint Chiefs of Staff, 174, 179-82
disbanding of unit, 160-62, 167
at Dynamo club, 79-92
in Guatemala, 193, 344
in Israel, 293-325
meeting with Lantos, 210-24, 228, 314
Moscow operation of, 105-34
as NSMTT head in Moscow, 40-50
in parachute jump into Syria, 325-43
in Paris, 198-290
patriotism of, 218-19
and Paul Mahon’s assassination, 8-13, 306
return to Washington, 145-47
on Russian conspiracy, 148-52, 169-71
on SpecWar, 101-02, 312
surveillance by Russians, 54-60
surveillance by Mossad, 233-50, 252
Syrian operations of, 65-66, 343-63
on Warriordom, 157-59
Marenches, Alexandre de, 202
Mark-1 Mod Zero communications system, 104
Mercaldi, Anthony Vincent, 74, 333
METL (Mission Essential Task List), 65, 71
MILPER (Military Personnel), 195
Minsk Hotel, 46
Miyamoto Musashi, 229
*Morrison, Black Jack, 64
Moscow Police Department, 10-11, 93
Mossad, 74, 189, 244, 344
AMAN (military intelligence) and, 67-68
booby-trapping of phones and computers, 274-75
dishonesty in, 232, 252-53
Golan’s activities in, 191-94, 252-53
KGB and, 68
during Lebanese invasion, 192
Southern Lebanese Army (SLA) and, 363-64
in sting operation, 315-17, 353, 359-60
surveillance of Marcinko, 233-50, 252
Syrian bomb and, 77, 170, 313-15, 353
Motorin, Sergei, 104-05n
MP5s Trijicon, 19, 20, 21, 23
MSD (Mobile Security Division), 40, 41
M-16, 351, 354, 355
Mugragha, Sa’id Musa, 339
Multi-Plier, 7
N
National Security Council, 65
NATO, 33, 35, 65, 172
NAVSPECWARGRU (NAVal SPECial WARfare GRoUp Two), 155
Navy, U.S., 9, 16, 38, 112, 144
night-vision binoculars, 243
night-vision goggles, 334
night-vision monocular, 106, 115, 116, 118, 134
NOC (Non-Official Cover), 196, 206, 253
Nodyev, 54, 57, 59, 118
Noriega, Manual, 190, 193
North, Oliver, 67, 278-79
NRO (National Reconnaissance Office), 104
NSA (National Security Agency), 286-87
NSMTT (Naval Security Mobile Training Team), 40, 41-42, 163
O
OCS (Officers Candidate School), 38
OMON (Otdel Militsii Osobovo Naznacheniya), 15, 20, 24, 25, 26, 45, 88, 93, 123, 127
OPCON (OPerational CONditions), 258
Operation Kidon Hagideon, 191
OPSEC (OPerational SECurity), 25
OPSKED (operational schedule), 6
Ossirak nuclear reactor, 358
P
PAPWAR (paper warfare), 155
Patterns of Global Terrorism, 143
Pavlov, Sergei, 282
Pentagon, 9, 34, 180
Petersburg Federal Prison, 9, 333
phones
booby-trapping, 274-75
NSA chip in, 286-87
secure, 285
tap, 37
PIP (Partial Information Ploy), 90, 91
PNG (personae non grata), 133
Pollard, Jonathan, 68, 358n
POTUS (President of the United States), 39, 130
Prescott, Pinckney III, 154-56, 174-75, 180, 183
P7 9mm autoloader, 44, 98, 113-14
R
Rainbow Warrior, 206
Reagan, Ronald, 181
Red Cell, 42, 50, 345
Rocks and Shoals, 112
*Rodent, 47, 50, 86, 163
in Moscow operation, 102, 105-34
transfer of, 167
ROEs (Rules of Engagement), 180
Rogers, Robert, 94
Rogers’s Rangers, 94
Rogue Manor, 109, 145, 148, 155, 179, 255, 264
room-entry exercise, 111
Ross, Kenneth, 10, 13, 17, 19, 41-42, 136, 147, 152-54, 156, 163-64, 167-73, 174, 181, 185-86, 255, 284, 286-89, 299-300, 301, 315-16, 365-67
RPG (Rocket-Propelled Grenade), 207
RS (relative superiority), 101-02
RSO (Regional Security Officer), 129, 134
R2D2s (Ritualistic, Rehearsed, Disciplined Drills), 110, 112
S
Salameh, Ali Hassan, 192
Saye�
��eret Matkal (General Staff’s Special Reconnaissance and Intelligence Unit, 309
Schwarzkopf, Norman, 32
screwdriver, 225, 239
SDECE (External Documentation and Counterespionage Service), 188, 199
SEAL (BUD/S), 71, 158, 167
SEALs
parachuting gear of, 326
personality type of, 165-66
training of, 71, 158-59
in Vietnam, 180
SEAL Team Six, 15, 42, 56, 111, 155, 183, 218, 310
SECDEF (Secretary of Defense), 181, 316, 317, 365
Secrest, Arleigh, 17n, 31, 32, 156
SFS (Senior Foreign Service), 139
Shamir, Yitzhak, 68n
Sharon, Ariel, 192
Shaw, John, 114
*Shepard, Gator, 16, 47-48, 49, 79, 163
in Moscow operation, 102, 105-37
transfer of, 167
Shomron, Koby, 320, 321, 364
in parachute jump into Syria, 322-43
in Syrian operation, 343-63
SIGINT (SIGnals INTelligence), 65, 104, 138
Sixteenth Directorate, 103
SLA (Southern Lebanese Army), 363
SNAILS (Slow, Nerdy Assholes in Ludicrous Shoes), 117
SOC (Special Operations Command), 333
SpecWar, 65, 101-02, 312
Spring baton, 239
Spyderco folder, 6
State Department, 18, 31, 33, 39-41
STOL (Short TakeOff and Landing), 325
stress cards, 158n
Stroyev, Misha, 12, 14, 30, 47
in dacha raid, 3-4, 8, 24, 25
subway, Moscow, 54-56, 57, 58
SUCS (Smart, Unpredictable, and Cunning), 24
Sullivan, Mugs, 111, 112
Sun Tzu, 15, 20, 94
surveillance
baffle system, 138
barricade situation, 235
car chase, 245-50
KGB, 37, 45, 103-05
shaking, 56-59, 233-44
Syrette, 241-42
T
T’ai Kung, 158
T’ai Li’ang, 34
Tamil Tigers, 26
TECHINT (TECHnical INTelligence), 138
telephone. See phone
terrorists, record keeping by, 25-26
Thompson, Matt, 314
THREATCON Alpha, 258n
THREATCON Bravo, 258n
THREATCON Charlie, 33, 258n
THREATCON Delta, 258n
TNT (terror against terror), 329
*Tremblay, Doc, 7, 16, 47, 49, 99-100, 163
at Dynamo club, 82, 95
in Moscow operation, 102-03, 105-18
transfer of, 167
U
Uniform Code of Military Justice, 112
UNODIR (UNless Otherwise DIRected), 53
USAREUR (U.S. Army, Europe), 172
USOECD (U.S. Mission to the Organization for Economic Cooperation and Development), 33, 185-86, 207
USP 9mm pistol, 6
Uzi submachine pistol, 352
V
Visir system, 103-05
Vynkenski, 54, 55, 56, 57, 83, 84, 86, 87, 92-93, 95-99, 105, 115, 119
W
Wallace, Mike, 278n
Walther .32-caliber pistol, 223
War Face, 237
Warriordom, mental state of, 157-59
Way of the Warrior (Sun), 15
Weaver grip, 114
wire cutters, 7
*Wonder Stevie, 16, 36, 44-46, 52, 79, 99, 102-03, 167-68, 200
in burglary of Lantos & Cie. 259, 265-70, 273, 276, 283
computer knowledge of, 182, 188, 189, 279
at Dynamo club, 80-81, 95
in Israel, 293, 298, 301, 308-12, 317-25
in Moscow operation, 102-03, 105-34
on nuclear weapons, 48
in parachute jump into Syria, 325-46
in Paris, 251-52, 255-56
in Syrian operation, 342-63
weaponry and, 182, 183-84, 317
Woodward, Freddie, 18
Wu Ch’i, 151
Wyeth, Bartlett Austin, Jr. (Bart), 18, 50, 53, 74, 130, 131-37, 139-44, 151-52, 217-18, 254, 281, 301, 317
Y
Yudin, Andrei, 29, 73, 77, 184
and dual-use technology, 77, 143
at Dynamo club, 75, 81, 84-89, 91-92, 94, 141
murder of, 118-20, 141, 221
Paul Mahon’s intelligence about, 12, 19, 32
residence of, 94, 105
target of dacha operation, 24
Z
ZD (zero defect), Navy, 164, 192
Zhirinovsky, 60
Zichron Yaakov, 320
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DETACHMENT BRAVO
Richard Marcinko and John Weisman
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Chapter 1
Oh, dear God, how I do love pain. In fact, those of you who have read the previous eight books in this series understand all too well that I have an ongoing, enduring, even unique relationship with pain. For those of you who haven’t, let me say that pain and I enjoy a symbiotic bond, a fundamental, intrinsic link, a basic and perpetual connection. The gist of this link is that whenever I endure pain, I realize I am guaranteed to still be very much, very Roguishly, alive. In fact, my life is the perfect articulation of an essential, Froggish precept taught to me during Hell Week by an old, grizzled pipe-smoking UDT chief boatswain’s mate named John Parrish. Chief Parrish’s theory goes: no pain … no pain.
And so, friends, I can report to you with no hesitation whatsoever that right now I was very much … alive. And where was I, you ask? Where, precisely, was I experiencing so much life?
I was flat on my back, punctured by an irregular bed of nails. Big nails. Sharp nails. Many of them antique nails—the old-fashioned, hand-wrought kind of nails. I was stuck, arms and legs akimbo, in a crawl space between the second and third floors of a Victorian-era mansion that had been turned into a series of flats (which is how the Brits refer to apartments) in Hammersmith, one of Central London’s closest-in suburbs, trying not to make a sound as I made preparations to use a silent drill to install a flexible, fiberoptic cable attached to a fish-eye lens through Victorian hardwood subfloor, 1930s asphalt tile, and 1950s carpeting that sat precisely seven inches above the ol’ Rogue snout.
Except—there’s always a catch, isn’t there?—to get to the target area, I’d had to wriggle on my hack across seven feet of nail-enhanced, back-lacerating crawl space. Why were the nails there in the first place? Who the fuck knew, and who the fuck cared. I hadn’t seen them at first because I hadn’t used any lights as I made my way into the crawl space because light might give away my existence to the six armed and dangerous IRA splinter group tangos just above me. Oh, I had a tiny, red-lensed flashlight that would assist me once I was ready to do the drill bit, but that was it. I’d do my drilling, install the fish-eye lens, and then retreat, unspooling fiber optic cable as I did, so it could be plugged into our TV screen, allowing us to see the bedroom of the flat above, and see what they were doing in there. We already had video of the living room and kitchen areas. But when it came to the bedroom we were blind.
Yes, I see you out there. You’re saying, “Hey, what the tuck? Why not use all those techno goodies in your arsenal. Like micro thermal viewers that can pick up human beans from across the street, and state-of-the-art X-ray glasses, and all that shit. It is the twenty-first century after all.”
Well, friends, “all that shit” is dandy if you are a cardboard-and-rneringue Hollywood adventure hero whose action toys are made in China by slave labor. But me, I’m the old fashioned real thing, and unfortunately the real action adventure hero doesn’t get to play with gadgets that work in movies but not real life. In the movies, there are always timers on bombs to tell you how many seconds are left before the hero’s gonna get blown up. In Hollywood, th
e good guy always manages to crack the computer password in a matter of seconds. In Hollywood, they never count the rounds they shoot.
Not us. My men and I do things the old fashioned way. We count rounds. Why? Because most SEALs go into combat with only three hundred of ’em, and you can’t fucking afford to waste a single shot. And in all the years I’ve ever played with explosive devices, I have never, ever, even once, seen a bomb that had a digital or analog timer courteously counting down the seconds for me so I’d know precisely when the sucker was gonna explode. No fucking way. And last, I leave all the serious computer shit to the professional hackers. Sure, I can tell you all about sniffers and protocols. I can program in COBOL. I can even write UNIX code if I have to. But these days everything computerwise changes so fast that I’d rather hire some nineteen-year-old PO3 puke who knows it all, rather than have to spend twenty hours a week trying to keep up with the latest developments in bits and bytes.
Nope, I want to save my time for what I do best: kill tangos and break things. To wit: I sneak and I peek, and then I hop and I pop, which I almost always follow with the ever popular shooting & looting.
The sneaking and peeking part of this particular goatfuck was long finished. We’d deployed a piece of National Security Agency eavesdropping gizmo known as a Big Ear to monitor the apartment the tangos were in. Big Ears are laser microphones with a throw of about 150 yards. But our twenty million dollar gizmo could not tell me whether or not the tangos inside had finished assembling the weapon they were working on. That called for what the military bureaucracy formally refers to as “eyes on.”
After all, no piece of equipment, no matter how much it costs, can force people to talk if they’re security conscious. And these assholes understood the rudiments of surveillance. So they never spoke to one another about what they were doing, or how it was going. Instead, they spoke in generalities. If there was anything to say about the weapons they were building, it was most certainly done by sign language and notepad. They’d obviously seen all the current action adventure movies, too, and they were taking no chances. So I was stuck here, doing my snoop & poop the old-fashioned—by which I mean painful—method: creeping, crawling, and bleeding.
Now, I’m sure you want me to explain why I, a humping, pumping, cap-crimping, deep-sea diving SEAL, whose proper element is H2O, was flopping around like a suffocating flounder in the first place. Hey, asshole—there’s water in those copper pipes over there, and that’s close enough for me. So shut the fuck up, sit the fuck down, pay some attention, and I’ll give you the sit-rep—or at least as much of it as time permits.
I was here because I’d been assigned to a clandestine, patchwork, multinational, joint counterterrorist task force known as DET (for DETachment) Bravo. DET Bravo was headquartered in London. It was made up of Americans and Brits and assigned to deal proactively with the nogoodnik splinter groups who were trying to wreck the Good Friday peace accord, which was bringing reconciliation to Northern Ireland in fits and starts. By no-goodniks, I mean those few hard-line terrorist groups, both IRA and Unionist, that had decided the best way to bring the agreement to a screeching halt was to target Americans and Brits in London and in Northern Ireland.