by Jo Chambliss
Devil pushes off the rail and takes a step toward me. “You already told us all that. Tell us about her.”
I run my hand through my hair in frustration. “She’s in her late twenties, divorced. She’s a photographer. Her father’s in a nursing home after suffering a major stroke.”
“What does she look like?” I glare sharply at Skin at his question but see that he’s not trying to be an ass. Sure, I can tell he’s baiting me, but not to make me lash out.
“Well, she’s…” Images of Willa start flashing through my mind, her asleep in the hospital, her looking lost in my cabin, and her face as I held her before leaving. “She’s… beautiful.” I lean back in my seat and close my eyes.
Willa is beautiful.
Covered in bandages with dark circles under her eyes and dried blood in her hair, she is still probably the most beautiful woman I’ve ever laid eyes on. And strong. From the moment she woke up in that hospital, it was obvious that she possesses an inner strength that I rarely see in people, SEALs included.
When I open my eyes again, all these clowns are staring at me with varying degrees of smug satisfaction on their faces. It seems as though they knew all along what I’m just finding out. That it’s not just a deep respect that I feel for Willa Castle.
She’s been a constant feature in my mind since I left Lydia and not just out of concern. I recognize now that I have this want, no, a need to see her again, to lose myself in her turquoise eyes. I want to wrap my arms around her again and have her rest against me. And… it’s not just Willa, but Ari; I miss her. As long as I live, I’ll never forget when she softly touched my cheek and offered to hold my hand while Doc Miller stitched up my face. God, I’m in deep here.
I had been telling myself that my thoughts of them stemmed from what I helped save them from, that this is just some hero complex. I’m realizing now that isn’t the case. Every rescue mission I’ve ever walked away from, I walked away clean with no attachments.
But this time, Ari changed something in me, opened my eyes to something I didn’t even realize I needed. Now that I know what it is, I’m dying to get it back.
My girls. That’s exactly what this is about. Even though my brain was slow to catch up, my heart had already decided that it wanted, no needed; Willa and Ari. That’s why it was so hard to leave them.
For the rest of the evening, I’m pretty quiet. Occasionally, when I look at one of the guys, I’ll receive a knowing look, but no one gives me a hard time about it. I can see it clearly now; they knew all along that I had already claimed Willa and Ari as mine. They were just waiting for me to figure it out.
Now that they’ve gotten what they wanted out of me, they let up. Devil drives me home after a while, and I happily crawl back into bed with Willa and Ari still on my mind.
The next morning, I go through my usual mission prep, forcing thoughts of midnight rescues, blond curls, and turquoise eyes out of my immediate focus.
My team won’t do a full PT session today since our mission will go long into the night. Instead, we meet for a run and then spend some time checking our gear.
After we check every piece of equipment we’ll take on this mission, we take some time to go over the boat’s layout, the mission execution, and contingencies again. We never go on a mission with just a plan A. We always have a plan B ready to go and tools to adapt in case we need a plan C or D.
Confident that we’ve prepared as well as we can, we go our separate ways to get three hours of rack time.
There isn’t much sleep to be had at my place. I was able to keep thoughts of what’s happening in Lydia at bay while prepping with my team. The second I closed the door to my truck, my head was right back in that cabin.
Driving home, my fingers itched to hit the button on the wheel and call Mike. I suppose the only reason I didn’t is that I was afraid to get bad news, and I didn’t need that mere hours before a mission.
Later, when my three hours are up, I’m not very well rested, but I am ready to go. I drive back to base to meet my team and gear up before boarding the Indianapolis.
Walking down the dock toward the ship at 1900 hours, I have to admire her. She’s a cool ship. The USS Indianapolis is one of the new Littoral Freedom class of ships the Navy commissioned. Built in Mobile, Alabama, she’s like a modern-day ironclad. She looks like a tank on the water, a real beast.
We board the LCS 17 and head straight for the wardroom. We’ll stage there while we wait to receive updates from those in command who are following the Vlastvuy via satellite.
Shortly after we settle in, Captain Taft of the Indy comes in to brief us on current intelligence. “As expected, the Vlastvuy has moved south to accept an off-shore refueling and food delivery from a company in Fort Lauderdale. We expect to intercept between six and seven hours from now.”
“Thank you, Captain.”
The captain sits down, and the midshipman assigned to us for this mission marks the voyage of the Vlastvuy from the meeting off coastal Carolina to this point. Referring to that chart, I go over the plan again. “The Indy will stage six nautical miles away from a pre-determined point on the route of the Vlastvuy. Satellite images show that she has a five-mile Navicon radar, so we’re on our own inside that range. Because of that, we won’t launch until she closes to within seven miles of the Indy in case she doesn’t go the way we expect.”
I look around the table at this capable group of men. “Skin, since you’re the munitions expert you get to try out a new toy tonight.”
The gun enthusiast tries but fails to hide his excitement from the Indy’s captain. I can’t deny being a little jealous when Captain Taft describes the weapon, “Lockheed has created a handheld prototype of their ADAM laser. Command wants you to test it. I’m sure you’ve all seen the full-size prototype punch a hole in a small boat from long range. Your job is to test if from the water to see if it’s a viable weapon for strike teams on RHIBs. Using a jammer as a back-up, stage at one mile out and attempt to take out their communications with the ADAM.”
One mile out on the ocean from the deck of a Rigid Hull Inflatable Boat, rough seas or not, that’ll be a longshot in need of a back-up plan. “If the laser doesn’t do its job, we’ll stick to the original plan, in which case, Wrench will take out the ship’s communications.”
The next two hours are spent tracking our target. As expected, after acquiring the uranium, she traveled south to Fort Lauderdale for restocking and refueling. The midshipman charting for us informs me that the Vlastvuy is following the same route it has on its last three returns to the Mediterranean.
Another long wait later, the captain sends word, “We’ll be at our staging point in thirty minutes.”
I look around at the painted faces of my team. “All right, let’s do this.”
On the water-level launch deck, the RHIB is ready with its three-man crew to pilot us out to intercept our target. Once we board the Vlastvuy, they’ll return to the Indianapolis. We’ll be our own from there.
While the RHIB crew opts to wait inside to escape the frigid air, my team remains on deck. It’s not to prove anything, and none of my team will give the crew shit about it. It’s just that we’ve been through arctic training, and those guys haven’t. Open air on the Atlantic in February is fucking cold.
Once we’re in the five-minute window of launch time, my team boards the inflatable with its crew. The three sailors chat amongst themselves as they give their vessel one last check, but my team remains quiet.
Just before our boat is launched, Midshipman Stanford gives us one last update. “Lieutenant, heat signatures show eight souls on board, six fore and two aft. One of the six does a main deck sweep at the top and bottom of the hour. We’re also reporting some fog in your target zone.”
From his seat in the inflatable boat, I hear Skin express his disappointment, “Shit!” He’s upset that the fog will keep him from being able to try out the new laser weapon.
“Maybe next time.” Wrench offers Skin a pa
t on the shoulder as the launch crew spits us out the back of the Indy.
It’s rough seas as we make our quiet way toward our target. We’re impossible to see, completely cloaked in black, and the angry water will cover the sound of our approach.
At zero dark-thirty, we’re within range of the Vlastvuy. Before closing the final distance, we hold position for a few minutes to give the watchman time to finish his sweep and go back inside the bridge.
Heat signatures from the satellite showed that there are two men at the helm, one of those being the man that performs the security sweeps. With only two on duty at this time of the night, they’ll be less likely to notice when we activate the signal jammer. “Ok, change of plans. Since there are only two active crewmen on the bridge, I want Wrench and Judge to circle back and join my team once you’re secured the bridge. With as many rooms as we have to search, the extra hands will be a big help. Devil, that’ll leave you in command of the ship with Skin guarding the crew stair.”
Our pilot crew navigates through the fog to pull within thirty yards of the Vlastvuy. Visibility at this range is good, so I call an audible, “Skin, since we haven’t been spotted, try the ADAM. Aim for the cable junction.” The man grins big and reaches for the space-age weapon.
Within seconds of him taking aim, smoke is visible, coming from the group of wires. The radar stops spinning, and the lights go out on everything else. “Shit. Can I keep this?” he whispers.
“With any luck, these’ll become standard issue after tonight,” I answer him.
With communications severed, we close the distance and pull up to the stern launch deck of the Vlastvuy. My gun team gives cover while Devil’s team offloads to the deck of the boat.
Once they’re in position, they cover the rest of us. With all eight on board, I signal the RHIB, and the crew pulls away, leaving us to succeed or fail on our own.
Both groups get into position quickly and begin advancing toward the bow of the ship. It won’t be long before the first mate wakes the captain to report the loss of radar, and we want to neutralize him before he gets the chance.
Devil’s group takes the port side to gain access to the bridge while my group has to enter the living area through French doors in the back.
Surprisingly, the doors aren’t locked. Not that I would feel bad about having to break in, but there’s bound to be a security system on a ten-million-dollar yacht. Again, with coms being cut, we’re not worried about the crew alerting anyone, but I want to give Devil a thirty-second lead to take the bridge and shut down any alarms that might sound when we breach the salon doors.
When the thirty seconds pass, the salon doors are opened. We quickly clear the living room, dining room, and the kitchen on our way to the stairwell to the staterooms. Despite the late hour, it’s not dark in the salon as the vessel has safety lights along the egress path.
We reach the stairs and advance to the bottom where we’ll wait to be joined by Wrench and Judge before clearing the staterooms.
The Vlastvuy’s plans on the broker’s website showed a total of fourteen rooms. This number includes attached closets, bathrooms, storage, crew spaces, and the engine room.
After reaching the bottom, the point man, Ink, drops to a cover position while Bandaid and I descend the stairs behind him. Hawk is left to guard the stair entrance.
At the termination of the stair, the hall goes left. The wall on the right holds the door to the crew cabin. Across from the stairs is the first stateroom. The other three guest cabins are located in the hall. Two are across from one another, and the door to the largest suite is at the very end.
As soon as the men from Devil’s group join us, we each split off to one of the stateroom doors. Bandaid, Wrench, and Judge take the hallway doors. I take the door opposite the stairs, and Ink remains where he is to guard the crew access. That door we’ll breach after securing the ship’s guests.
Once everyone’s in position, I hold up my hand and begin counting down. Right as I hit three, a light switches on in the room Judge is covering. Shit!
I give the signal to go, and we all move; the time for stealth having expired. I jump up, kick in the door, and zero in on the bed. The man lying there had obviously been asleep, but the shouts from the next room and me kicking in the door were quite the rude awakening. He reaches for a weapon on the bedside table, but my laser lighting up his bare chest stops him cold. I yell at the man to back up even as shouts continue coming from the other room.
Using my squad’s designation, I call out for assistance. “I need a Wendigo in here!”
After a particularly bloody arctic mission early in my career, a group of locals spotted us emerging from the forest, leaving a trail of blood on the ice. They called us wendigos.
The area commander heard about it and told me about the mythical creature of local legend. Turns out, the wendigo is a feared monster in local folklore.
It explains why the locals were afraid of us. Never mind that the blood trail we left was from our own injuries. After that, word got around to the other platoons in Team 2, and the name stuck with us.
“Wendigo Three coming in.”
“Cover this prick while I clear the room and secure his weapon.” Bandaid drags the man to the floor and places quick restraints on him while I keep my rifle leveled at his head. With Bandaid now covering the bastard on the floor, I check the closet and bathroom.
“All right, we’re clear here. What happened with the other guy?”
“Judge caught him on his way to the shitter. He was loud but an easy take-down.”
I step out into the hallway. Looking at Ink, I gesture toward the door. “Not a peep,” he says.
That makes me nervous. “Drag these two bozos upstairs, and one of you stay behind with Hawk to watch them. All remaining rooms have been cleared, affirm?”
“Affirm.”
Now that we’ve cleared the guests, it’s safe to use our radios. “Wendigo Two, send down the grenade.”
“Copy.”
Three seconds later, I hear the telltale sound of an M84 stun grenade going off. “Let's move!”
Ink kicks in the door, and we rush through the opening. The captain’s quarters are the only door in this hall. A quick search of the room and attached bath don’t produce the Vlastvuy’s skipper.
Further down, the hallway opens into the crew's common area. The two crew bunks and engine room are in a hall opposite the common area. Fortunately, we won’t have to do much to clear the rooms as all four men are huddled together in the galley.
While these men are being restrained, Judge and I clear the rest of the crew compartments and engine room. “Take these men upstairs with the others. I’m going to the bridge.”
“Wendigo Two, the crew is secured and being moved to the salon. I’m coming up the crew stair.”
“Copy, Wendigo One.”
When I make it to the top of the stairs, Skin slaps me on the back. “Good job, Lieutenant.”
“You guys have any trouble?”
“Not too bad.” Looking down at the floor, both members of the crew are laid out and tied up. One of them is unconscious; the other is staring up at me. I’ll be damned. It’s Songbird. I wink at him, and he returns a nod.
That’ll be the only recognition he gets until he’s separated from the rest of his crew. Otherwise, we risk blowing his cover. “Skin, get some help and take these two men to the salon with the others.”
“Yes, sir.”
“The Navy can have her now,” I say to Devil.
Once he’s killed the engine, he motions for me to follow him onto the deck. “This seems too easy.”
“Yeah, that thought’s been nagging me too. The crew didn’t even try to resist. The only trouble we had was from the assholes in the staterooms.”
“You don’t think they’ll scuttle the ship to keep us from having her, do you?”
“It’s always a possibility, but this is a ten-million-dollar boat. Not to mention the uranium they just trad
ed five million in diamonds for.” I think about it for a second. “No, I don’t think they’d want to sink her.”
I pull out my long-range radio and switch it on. “LCS 17, this is Bluejay. Nest secured. Please proceed. Over.”
“Copy Bluejay. On our way. Over.”
Ten minutes later, we’ve traded places with the nuclear specialists and other Navy personnel on the Indy. For now, we’ll debrief and get some sleep. After that, we’ll wait however long it’ll be before the Navy crew finishes with the Vlastvuy and returns to base at Little Creek.
I picture Ari’s and Willa’s faces and think, I hope they hurry the hell up.
Chapter 8
Willa
It’s just after nine am, and Ari and I are snuggled together on the big bed in the master bedroom. After such a long night, I thought a nap would be good for her.
At home, I wouldn’t be napping with her, but we’re in a strange house, and I’m still not ready to let her out of my sight for too long.
Even if I was, she was too upset about Chris leaving for me to put her in the other room. I was afraid of this. After seeing her reaction to him coming back from getting breakfast this morning, it was obvious that she’d already grown attached to him.
As soon as she had finished her bath, I dried her hair and dressed her in one of the new outfits in her bag. Almost before she had her pants all the way up, she was running out of the bedroom, calling for Fish.
Seconds later, she came back into the room, worried because she couldn’t find him. I sat down on the bed and pulled her into my lap. “Where did Fish go, mama?”
“Fish had to go to work, honey.”
Big, fat tears began rolling down her rosy cheeks. “But he said he was on bacation.”
I wiped away the tears and hugged her to me. “I know, but I want you to think about something. He was on vacation when he saved you and me, right?”
She sniffled and nodded her head.