Black Operations- the Spec-Ops Action Pack

by Eric Meyer

  “Mr. Nolan, how long is it since you last experienced one of these blackouts?”

  They’d started after his wife was killed, and more than once had struck him down during a mission. As a result, he’d paid to consult this civilian doctor. If there were a chance of something that could affect his military career, he’d deal with it himself. That was his way. Besides, it was no business for a Navy physician, who could bench him. Or even put him on the beach, permanently. Service docs were good, but everything they wrote down would stay in his service jacket forever. He’d keep it private for as long as possible.

  “About four months, Doc.”

  The doc nodded, hummed and muttered. “Four months, yes, I see. Well, this chart doesn’t look too bad.”

  “So am I in the clear?”

  The doc looked into space, thinking to himself. Then he looked at Nolan who was watching the medic’s small, careful eyes hidden behind thick lenses, waiting for the verdict. He blinked and instinctively looked away. “What kind of work do you do, Mr. Nolan?”

  “I’m a businessman, Doc. I travel around, sorting out my company’s problems, that sort of thing.”

  “Hmm, I have to say for a businessman, you have astonishingly good health. In fact, you’re probably the fittest patient I’ve ever had in this office. Do you work out?”

  “Oh, yeah, all the time.”

  “That explains it, I guess.” He drummed his fingers on the table. “Yes, I’d say you’re in the clear. There’s nothing showing on the printouts, so I’d guess your problems were due to a recent emotional trauma. Did anything happen?”

  “My wife, she…” He had to work hard to get the words out. “She was killed.”

  “Ah!” His expression brightened. “In that case, I’d say it was definitely temporary, a stress reaction. But if you feel it coming on again, you’ll need to come back, and we’ll look into it further. In the meantime, here’re some pills for you to take, just a mild sedative to calm things down in your life. Try and stay away from anything too physical or challenging.”

  “Okay, Doc. Thanks.”

  He took the small, brown bottle of pills and left the office. Outside, he found a rusting dumpster overflowing with garbage, and pushed the little bottle well down inside. There was only one solution he’d ever found to most of life’s problems, and it wasn’t to be found in any bottle. It was to be found in one place. Action.

  He checked his military wristwatch and hurried to his red Camaro; he was running late. He’d promised to pick the kids up from school. His in-laws, Grace’s parents, John and Violet Robson, looked after his two children when he was away, but when he had any time, he spent every possible minute of it with them. It would take them more than a few months to get over the loss of their mother, and as good as John and Violet were, they needed their father. He hit the gas pedal hard and weaved his way through the bustling San Diego traffic, enjoying the adrenaline rush of threading the big, powerful car through the dawdling traffic. Horns spat out their protest, and fists waved at someone who would dare to upset the normal, stately but chaotic procession of rush hour traffic, but he ignored them all. On this afternoon, he felt good to be alive.

  He screeched to a halt with a stink that was a mix of tarmac and hot rubber, parking his Camaro outside the school. He was surprised when the Principal, Madeleine Packer, came out of the main door and waved for him to go inside the school. He opened the car door, climbed out and walked inside to find her office.

  Oh, shit, what’ve the kids done now? Had one of them been involved in a fight? Or was their work falling behind, God only knows they had enough on their young plates.

  He knocked and went in, feeling more like a truant schoolboy than a US Navy Chief Petty Officer and member of one of the world’s elite military units.

  “How can I help you, Ma’am?” he asked the stern looking woman, after she’d indicated a chair, and he’d sat down.

  Did anyone ever refuse the order of a school principal?

  He looked around at the office; the usual mix of bookshelves packed with an eclectic range of books, box files bulging with documents, photographs and certificates on the walls, and heavy dark wooden furniture placed on a slightly worn carpet.

  Persian probably. I’ve seen similar rugs in that country. At least this one isn’t stained with the blood of an enemy.

  “It’s more how I can help you,” she replied, peering at him over the rims of her half-moon spectacles. She had a thin face, dark brown hair and eyes, and a trim, disciplined body clad in a smart business suit, over which she’d draped a string of heavy pearls. Her hair was presented like the rest of her, neat and trim. She was a picture of efficiency and no-nonsense authority, and he surprised himself by admitting that she awed and unnerved him. He laughed inside at his own hangover from his schooldays.

  “Do your children, Daniel and Mary, have any relations who are of Mediterranean descent, possibly Hispanic, maybe even Arab?”

  He was puzzled by the question, but instantly on alert.

  What the hell is this? Racial profiling?

  “No, nothing, my own ancestry is Irish, going back several generations, and their mother was Caucasian American, as far back as anyone can remember. What’s this all about? Have the kids been saying something they shouldn’t?”

  “No, they haven’t. It’s nothing like that. But we were concerned that someone of that ethnicity seemed to be watching them earlier. I guess we’re all much more careful about the security of our schools these days, and we look out for anything strange or out of place. These people, it was two men, have been seen outside the school on a few occasions just lately. At first, we didn’t know who or what they were interested in, but when we saw them looking especially at Daniel and Mary, I thought I’d best ask you about any relatives that may be looking out for them. Or anything else, any reason they might be watching.”

  “You did the right thing. You know what I do for a living?”

  “You’re in the Navy, Mr. Nolan?”

  “That’s right, Ma’am, a special part of the Navy, the Seals. Our work tends to be very sensitive. Sometimes we deal with matters of National Security.”

  “I see. You think this may be connected with your employment?”

  “I can’t see how it couldn’t be, but it’s possible. It could be that they’re planning some kind of an operation. Possibly revenge for something I’ve been involved with in the past. Yeah, it could be they’re planning a kidnap, or maybe even worse.”

  There was only one crime worse than kidnap. Murder. Their eyes met. He gave her a challenging stare.

  “Does that worry you, Ma’am?”

  She stared right back at him. “Of course it worries me, Mr. Nolan. I run a school, and I have the safety of my children to consider. But I’m also an American, and if these people are enemies of America, we need to deal with them, not run from them. One thing I can promise you, I personally will not run scared from anyone, terrorist or otherwise. Tell me what can I do?”

  He smiled his thanks. Plenty of principals would have politely asked him to take Daniel and Mary out of school until the threat was over.

  “Nothing at the moment, but I’ll talk to our people, and see what measures they can take to look into this and counter any problems, if there are any. There could be an innocent explanation, although I doubt it. In the meantime, let me know if you see these people hanging around again. I’d like to have a word with them. A photograph would be useful, if you ever saw them and had the chance to take a snapshot without endangering anyone.”

  She smiled. “I’ll do my best. But I suspect you’d want to do more than have a word with them. I seem to recall that the Navy Seals are not known for polite conversation with their enemies.”

  “That’s right, Ma’am, we’re not. I’ll take the kids home now, and let you know later what our people decide to do to about this problem. Can I call you at home?”

  “Sure.” She gave him a card with her cellphone number on it. “C
all me anytime. And if there’s anything we can do, we’ll be glad to help.”

  He thanked her and went outside in time to catch his kids who’d just emerged into the schoolyard. Mary ran into his arms and gave him a huge hug. Daniel stood politely to one side, too much of a man to demean himself with such sloppy behavior. Nolan drove them home in the Camaro, looking around carefully as they went into his Craftsman house, the home he’d shared with Grace. It still made him think of her. Every time he set foot inside it, he thought of her. There were no strangers lurking, no obvious watchers. Their kid’s gray haired grandparents, John and Violet Robson, were waiting at the door to greet them. Despite their obvious age, they were both fit and active, if a little podgy. He grinned at the thought; they were entitled to relax at their age. He nodded a greeting, went in and allowed Daniel and Mary to finish telling him in stark detail about the highlights of their day. Then he sent them to do their homework on the laptop computers in their bedrooms. He smiled ruefully as they made their feelings plain.

  “But, Dad, we never do our homework straight after school. Mom always used to let us play for a time.”

  “I know that, Daniel.” The mention of Grace stabbed him like a knife, but he went on. “It’s just for now, kids, only the once. I need to talk to your grandparents for a short time. I’ll call you both back down when we’re done.”

  After they’d left, John and Violet Robson waited for an explanation.

  “What’s wrong, Kyle? What’s happened? Are you ill?”

  He shook his head.

  Thankfully, that shouldn’t be a problem, not now.

  He explained about the people who they thought had been watching the kids at the school. John Robson shook his head in disbelief.

  “Are you sure about that? I haven’t seen anyone suspicious, and I’ve taken and picked up the kids from school a number of times.”

  “I think I saw something!” They looked at Violet. “It was only yesterday when I collected them after school. I noticed two men in a gray Toyota Compact. I hadn’t seen them before. I wondered who they were at the time, as they seemed so out of place. You know, with all of this worry over pedophiles and so on. They were Middle Eastern too. At least I thought they were. It seemed strange at the time. I hadn’t seen any Arab kids in the school. But then I thought they might be maintenance men, and I didn’t think about it again until just now.”

  “They weren’t Hispanic?”

  “I don’t think so, no. There was something about them, but no, they were definitely Arabs. But I didn’t realize they were watching Daniel and Mary.” She looked fearful. “I guess I wasn’t looking for it.”

  They sat in silence for a few moments.

  “I’m going talk to our people about it,” Nolan said. “They can check it all out for us. It may be something, and it may be nothing.”

  After another silence, John Robson put his hand on Nolan’s arm. “Kyle, we should take them away for a short time. It may not be safe here, you know that.”

  “Christ, John, they’re all I’ve got,” he replied angrily. “After Grace was killed, I, well, you know.” He was quiet for a few moments, but his mind was working furiously.

  Why am I thinking of myself? It’s the kids’ welfare at stake here, not mine.

  He nodded. “You’re right. Daniel and Mary need to be somewhere safe while we track down these people and deal with them. Can you take them somewhere safe?”

  John nodded. “We have our vacation place up near Santa Barbara. We can take a break for a few days, a couple of weeks, or however long it takes. We’re retired, so it doesn’t matter much to us either way. But the kids will miss you a lot. Why don’t you come up with us?”

  Nolan was tempted, very tempted. They were all he had left, except for the Seals, his other family. And he could extend his leave. They’d understand.

  “No, I have to stay and take care of this problem. I can’t let these people drive my family away from their home, without find a way to put a stop to them.”

  “Will the Navy help you out?”

  “Sure, of course they will. And I’ll talk to that detective in the San Diego PD, Carol Summers. She’ll look into it.”

  They both looked up sharply when he mentioned her name.

  “What?”

  “She seems very nice,” Violet murmured. Her face was expressionless.

  “Yeah, sure, she is, but I don’t have time for that sort of thing,” he replied. “Grace was my life. I can’t just forget her. She was very nice too,” he added drily.

  “Of course, but don’t you leave it too long,” Violet continued. “Grace was our daughter, but there are the children she left behind for us all to consider. They could do with someone, you know. It’s not disloyal to Grace to think along those lines.”

  “Yeah, sure,” he muttered, embarrassed and angry. It was his life, and the kids’, not theirs.

  “I’ll make a call and ask Carol to look into this business. Then I’m going to the base, and I’ll talk to the guys about it. But first off, I’ll go up and say goodnight to the kids and tell them about their unexpected vacation.”

  Kids always seemed to know more than you thought they did. He’d found that out very quickly. It was called ‘being a father’.

  “A vacation! Is that because of those camel jockeys hanging around the school? Are you going to kill them, Dad?”

  He kept down a smile. “You mean Arabs. No, Daniel, they may be just innocent people going about their business, but I need to check them out. Your grandparents will take you first thing in the morning, and I’ll be up to Santa Barbara to see you when I can get away.”

  “You kick their asses, Dad,” Mary exclaimed. “Give ‘em hell. Nuke ‘em!”

  He nodded at her, unsurprised by her choice of words. Kids nowadays learned their language and culture from computers and the Internet.

  “Believe me, Mary, if their asses need kicking, I’ll do it.”

  When he climbed into his Camaro, he didn’t drive away immediately. He used his cell to call Detective Carol Summers of the San Diego PD. He’d spent all his spare time lately with the kids. And despite their previous close friendship, he’d had little time for her recently, so she was understandably a mite cool.

  “I’m busy right now, Kyle. What was it you wanted?”

  “How’d you know I wanted something?”

  “Because it’s the only time you ever call me, lately.”

  He winced. That was a blow below the belt, but he knew he deserved it.

  “I’ve been busy, with work and the kids. You know how it is.”

  How could I sound so lame? She’s a great girl, and she deserves better.

  “Yeah, I know how it is. I rate a poor third,” she responded bitterly.

  “Dammit, that’s not fair, Carol. It’s been pretty hectic just lately, what with work and the family,” he snapped. More sharply than he’d intended.

  Christ, I’ve had enough problems on my plate.

  “Whatever.” Now she sounded pissed. “Tell me what you want.”

  He rapidly gave her the lowdown on the mysterious middle-easterners who’d been maintaining some kind of surveillance on the kids. Her attitude changed instantly.

  “That sounds like it could be a serious problem. I’ll check it out myself. What about NCIS, have you talked to them?”

  “I’m on my way into the base now, but I’m not hopeful. They weren’t any use when Grace was killed.”

  “It’s not easy for them, Kyle. They have their own jurisdictions and rules, just like we do in the SDPD.”

  “That won’t help my kids.”

  “No, of course not. I’ll do what I can. Call me tomorrow, and I’ll tell you what I’ve come up with. I really am on a case now. It’s a murder, very nasty I’m afraid, and it can’t wait.”

  “Yeah, I get it, jurisdictions and rules. I’ll call you tomorrow, so long.”

  He hung up, angry with both her and himself.

  Dammit! She was investiga
ting a murder. He should have cut her more slack.

  He didn’t bother with NCIS, not yet. His first stop was to find his buddies, his platoon, Bravo Platoon. A few of them would be in Popeye’s, the local bar frequented by Frogs and Squids, Seals and Navy guys.

  He took out his anger with himself on the car, stamping down on the gas pedal and cutting a across a passing cab threading its way through the traffic. The driver hooted angrily, leaned out, glared, and gave him the finger. He let it go and went straight to the waterfront, to Popeye’s. At least some things never changed; Art in his usual place behind the bar, the stink of stale beer, and trophy mementos tacked to the wall. Lieutenant Talley was there, the platoon leader. As ever, when he was off duty, he wore tinted aviator glasses and a lightweight, beige Italian-cut suit. He rarely smiled. He was a serious man, who took the job of getting his men into and out of their missions with minimal casualties. He was tall, narrow, and long-limbed, with curling, dark brown hair over a long, pale face. When he spoke, he chose his words carefully. Talley was always meticulous, always made sure he said what he meant, and his men understood he meant what he said. His record was second to none within the Seal platoons, and he was a popular choice for the most difficult missions. He was with Vince Merano, Kyle Nolan’s opposite number. He was of Italian extraction, short, dark, and built like a wrestler. Vince was the second unit sniper and worked in parallel with Nolan. Will Bryce, the big, tough, black PO2 sat nearby with Carl Winters, the ace demolition man who just lived for blowing things up. Carl was a lean, hard, tough fighter, and a veritable wizard with explosives. He often claimed with a grin that blowing things up was his sole passion.