by Evan Currie
“No. Let’s start with what you’re hoping to get out of me,” Masters rejoined, taking a seat at the head of the table.
Karson sat down opposite him and gazed evenly across the table, to depressingly little effect.
“I could get a court order to dig through your life over the past ten years,” Karson said calmly. “Hell, I don’t even need the court order.”
“I expect you already have everything I’ve done that’s been recorded on a computer,” Hawk Masters responded, “but the information you want isn’t on any computer network.”
“Where is it then?”
“You’re not ready to know that, Admiral…and you should be eternally grateful for that fact.”
Admiral Karson grimaced, glaring at his host. “My job is intelligence, sailor. I’m never grateful for ignorance.”
Hawk just smiled crookedly in return. “Here’s a couple of old sayings for you: Ignorance is bliss and what you don’t know can’t hurt you.”
“You’re not making any sense.”
“From your perspective. From mine? I’m making perfect sense, and you’re being irrational.”
Karson rose to his feet, snapping down the lid of his case. “If you’re just going to screw around, Masters, we’re done here.”
“I’m not screwing around, Admiral. The fact is, you don’t want the answers you’re looking for,” Masters replied, sitting back with a serious expression. “I was in the same position ten years ago. I thought I wanted those answers, but I found out differently once I got them. The problem is, Admiral, once you’re on this side of the line there’s no going back.”
Admiral Sam Karson glared down at the still-seated Hawk Masters. “Mr. Masters, I don’t turn my back on my duty.”
“Cross this line, sir, and you’ll wish you had.”
Karson snapped the locks shut. “I think we’re done here.”
As he started toward the door, Hawk called after him, “It’s getting worse, isn’t it?”
Karson froze, slowly looking back.
“Incidents like the Fitz,” Masters elaborated. “They’re popping up more often, right?”
“How do you know that?”
“Because that’s the talk in the community.”
With those simple words Masters derailed Karson’s attempt to establish his independence by leaving. Now he had to know what the other man meant. An underground community that knew about these things? He slowly turned back and walked to the table.
“I can help, but I’m going to do it on my terms.”
Karson frowned. “And those are?”
“I’ll gather a team. The next time you have one of these incidents, we’ll check it out. If it can be handled quietly, we’ll do the job. If not, you’ll make sure we have all the support the United States Navy can offer.”
The admiral almost said no without even considering it. He didn’t need a mercenary team; he needed intelligence on the situation. The trouble was, if he read Masters right, he wasn’t going to get anything from him without cooperating.
If he let Masters have his team, he might be able to get the intel he needed more obliquely.
“You can pick specialists if you need them, but you’ll draw your operators from the navy ranks,” Karson countered. “Plus, I get to pick a liaison to your group.”
Masters grimaced. “I’m trying to keep as many people from getting killed by this thing as I can, and you’re not helping, Admiral.”
“Mr. Masters, you’re asking me to hand over the authority of the United States Navy to you. That’s not going to happen,” Karson replied coolly. “I’m willing to tolerate your little power play because it may just get me what I need, but I’m not setting you loose without some strings to keep you from dancing to your own tune.”
Masters sighed, hating the situation, but knowing that he wasn’t going to get a much better offer. He’d been on the case for ten years on his own, and had gotten squat in return for his efforts. He wanted a shot, a real shot, at putting paid to the things he’d seen, and the only way that was going to happen was with a group like the navy.
“Deal,” he finally said, “but mark my words, you’ll wish you’d let me dance to my own tune, Admiral.”
“I’ll take that chance, Lieutenant Commander Masters,” Karson said with a tone of calm confidence, flipping a sheaf of papers at the surprised man.
Hawk looked down, wincing as he recognized the recall orders. As an operator, he knew that the navy could recall him anytime within twenty-five years of his enlistment. He hadn’t expected it to happen, of course, not with his security clearance. They’d ignored him despite the ongoing wars in the Middle East, so he’d gotten used to the idea that it wasn’t going to happen.
Now he could only look down at the paper and shake his head.
“Well shit.” He probably should have known that he wouldn’t have a choice.
CHAPTER 2
MIAMI, FLORIDA
THREE DAYS LATER
The place was called the Glades Pub, though the sign was one of the neon deals that had three burnt-out letters and buzzed incessantly. Hawk Masters ignored it and the mess on the ground as he walked in, barely paying enough attention to keep his boots relatively clean. The old door hesitated as he pushed against it, then decided to give after a moment’s thought, letting him into the pub.
Hawk paused just inside the door, looked around slowly until he found the face he was seeking, and headed over to a corner booth when he found it.
“Didn’t expect to see you again.”
“Didn’t plan on being seen,” Hawk answered, dropping into the booth.
The man sitting across from him was wearing a light white shirt that hung loosely from his frame and looked out of place on him. His face had a messy, brownish-red goatee that was trying in vain to cover his chin and mouth, and there was an ear stud in his right ear.
“So what brings you back to this side of the veil, Hawk?”
“Like I ever crossed back,” Masters said grimly, shaking his head.
“Sooner or later everyone tries.”
“I’m putting together a team, Alex. I want you in as a consultant.”
Alex laughed. “A team? What do you think this is, Hawk? The navy? We don’t do teams.”
“The navy is exactly what I think this is,” Masters said, tossing his lieutenant commander’s insignia on the table between them.
Alex looked at the gold leaf for a moment, genuinely puzzled. “You can’t be serious. You know what happens when people cross that line; you of all people do. You want to drag some poor schmucks across, you do it without me.”
“It’s not that simple, man. The navy, they’re starting to see,” Hawk said earnestly, leaning across. “If they can see past it, what happens?”
The other man looked down at the table, his jaw tense as he considered the question. Finally he shook his head. “Death. Death by the millions. Maybe more.”
“Exactly. They’re giving me a team, and they’re even letting me pick it mostly,” Hawk said. “It’s a chance, one chance, to control it.”
“You’re not a big enough fool to think that any part of this can be controlled.”
“No, but maybe we can guide it, man. Keep it from rolling us all into a ball and running us over.”
Alex chuckled dryly and downed his drink. “Never knew you for an optimist, Masters.”
“Yeah right.…You in?”
Alexander Norton shrugged. “Consultant, huh?”
“Consultant.” Hawk nodded. He knew the man who was sitting across from him well. “Pay is good, full benefits, and research material is on the government’s dime.”
“They’ll pay for books and info, no questions or weird looks when I turn in the receipts?”
“You have my word.” Hawk lied without blinking. He knew there’d be plenty of questions and weird looks, particularly since he knew a thing or two about Norton’s preferred reading materials. He’d just take the worst of the grilling
himself, leaving the other man out of it. He didn’t want to even think of trying to do what he was about to attempt without someone very much like Alexander “The Black” Norton on his side.
Alexander Norton considered it for a long moment, mulling over the benefits and likely hazards of the offer. Honestly, the hazards outweighed the benefits by a factor of ten at least, but safety was overrated.
“Deal, Hawk. You have yourself a practitioner.”
* * *
“Rankin, it’s Hawk,” Masters said into his satellite phone as he stood outside Miami International. “Alex is in.”
On the other side of the line Navy Master Chief Eddie Rankin made a noise of surprise. “I’m shocked, brother. That boy is downright antisocial, and you’ve got him coming into the Teams?”
“As a consultant.”
Rankin snorted. “You didn’t tell him then.”
“Not in so many words.” Hawk smirked into the phone.
“All I can say is that I don’t want to be in your shoes when he works it out.” Eddie chuckled.
“I need some boys from the Teams now. You have a list?”
“Yeah, you know how it is.…Some of us have seen stuff in the field,” Eddie said with a more somber tone, “and I keep track of the people who start to believe what they see.”
“Good. Then we won’t have to ruin any lives.”
“Not up front anyway.”
“I’ve got a flight to catch. See you in Coronado.”
“It’ll be good to have you home, brother.”
Hawk Masters let out a noncommittal sound and broke the connection. He closed up the phone and watched as an incoming plane approached for a landing. The truth was, he still had issues to deal with when it came to his onetime home.
They say you can’t go home again.
Hawk Masters shouldered his duffel and walked into the airport.
Time to prove them wrong.
NEAR SAN DIEGO, CALIFORNIA
NAVAL BASE CORONADO
Commissioned in 1944, Naval Base Coronado quickly became one of the central hubs for military training and planning on the West Coast of the United States. Since the inception of the SEAL Teams, it had simultaneously been home and hell to every man who cared to take a shot at the grueling training ordeal designed to shake loose all but the most determined of the navy’s best.
For Hawk Masters, it was a bittersweet return to the place that had been his home for the better part of five years.
“Bro!”
His melancholy feelings lifted at the familiar voice, and he turned to grin at the approaching figure, dropping his duffle to the ground.
“Hey, Eddie.”
The man in the navy-master-chief uniform just stared at him for a moment, then grinned and grabbed him up in a bear hug. Masters laughed, returning the grip, and fought to keep his feet on the ground against the stockier and stronger man.
“Put me down, you big buffoon, before the kiddies start to talk!” Masters managed to get out through his laughter.
“Let ’em!” Eddie Rankin replied. “I haven’t seen you in almost four years, and now we get to work together again? Screw the kiddies.”
Masters laughed, but broke the embrace and shook his head. “Still a crazy bastard, huh?”
“Always. How else would I survive in the Teams?”
Hawk had to grant him that, and nodded. “You’ve got a point. Did you get me that list of names?”
“Done you one better,” the master chief replied. “I’ve got all the guys here, waiting to talk with the legend himself.”
“Legend?” Hawk snorted. “I lived, just like you did. Nothing legendary about it.”
“That’s not what they think. Of course, I’m famous.…You, you’re infamous.” Rankin smirked. “Going nuts will do that, though, or so I gather.”
“Oh, Lord.”
“Come on, I’ve got an office cleared out for you, and that admiral friend of yours had them assign an entire floor in B Block for you to use.”
“Well that’ll make things easier, I guess.”
“Yeah, try explaining some of the shit you’re going to be talking about to the fresh meat going through BUD/S.” Rankin laughed aloud, drawing even more attention as the two made their way across the parking lot and headed for the building complexes.
A glare from Rankin and a glance at the master-chief-petty-officer insignia on his shoulder was enough to send most of them running in the other direction. The rest, even those who outranked him, suddenly found something of their own affairs to take up their entire attention.
Rankin led them to the B Block complex, a series of buildings assigned to the SEALs for administrative purposes, and then immediately turned right into a stairwell and headed down.
“An entire floor, huh?”
“The subbasement is a floor,” Rankin defended himself with a chuckle. “Or it has a floor anyway. Mostly packed dirt, if I remember correctly.”
Masters shook his head, chuckling in return.
In truth it wasn’t that bad. No windows, and a little cool and damp, but Hawk had learned to appreciate having a lot of packed earth in between him and threats. He didn’t like the fact that the only way out seemed to be through stairwells that were easily blocked, but the flip side was that the only way in was through stairwells that were easily blocked.
“This is your office,” Rankin said, nodding to a room that had been furnished, just as cold and damp as the rest of the place but with nice solid cement walls. “Most of the rest of the space is for briefings, classes — you know the drill.”
Masters nodded.
“You need anything else?”
“No, just get the volunteers down here tomorrow morning, 0900.”
Rankin snorted. “Getting soft in your old age, civvie?”
“No, but I won’t be back from my run until 0830, Master Chief,” Hawk responded with a put-on sneer.
“Right, take the extra shower time. No need to knock the boys out from the smell.”
“Get out of here, you old wharf rat.”
Rankin left, laughing, and Hawk circled around his new desk as he thought about what was to come.
TEXAS ROADHOUSE
Alexander Norton grinned slightly, a little more of a leer really, as he leaned in and whispered into the ear of the woman sitting next him. Her eyes widened, almost bulging as she snapped back to look at him, her mouth dropping open.
He just winked, trying to convey a sense of supreme confidence.
She hesitated for a moment instead of lambasting him verbally or with her purse, and he knew he had an in. He smiled a bit wider and leaned in closer. “Spectacular night, isn’t it?”
For a moment she seemed torn between hitting him or laughing, but then she decided to split the difference and laughed while slapping his shoulder. He knew then that he’d made the right play, and suppressed the smirk that was threatening to form.
“You’re horrible,” she told him.
“No, I’m Alex,” he responded, winking. “And you?”
“I’m not sure I should be giving you my name.”
“That’s all right, I only want to borrow it.”
She laughed again, shaking her head. “I’m Alice.”
“Lovely to meet you, Alice.” Alex grinned.
This was the part about driving cross-country that Alexander enjoyed, even though flying was so much more efficient. As a practitioner, he preferred to keep his feet on terra firma. He’d seen too many fancy electrical doodads go nutso over the wrong push of energy at the wrong time.
He knew a few practitioners who flew all the time, even swore by it. He couldn’t imagine being one of them, though. Playing with the laws of nature the way his kind did…well, it messed with your head sometimes. He liked to give himself as many chances as he could to avoid a lethal mistake, and at thirty thousand feet you really only had the one.
Besides, look at what they were missing out on. A nice night, decent enough music, and a fabulous
bottle blond who was laughing at all the right places. He slipped an arm around her back, and smirked inwardly when she leaned into him.
His smirk died when he felt that telltale twitch along the hairs at the back of his neck. Trouble was on its way; he could always sense it.
Alexander leaned forward, shifting to look down at the far end of the bar. In the loud blare of music he almost missed the soft whish of air where his head had been, but the shocked scream from the blond at his side would have filled him in anyway.
He twisted, lifting his elbow to just the right angle to miss the man at his left, and connected with the man who’d just tried to knock his head off from behind. His attacker grunted in surprise, falling back as he clutched his injured face.
“Oh, terribly sorry there, sir. Are you all right?” Alex called over the music, affecting a puzzled expression.
Bad call, apparently, as the music cut out halfway and his voice carried across the bar. Apparently the band liked to watch fights in progress.
Great.
The man got himself straightened up and glared at him. “What are you doing with my girl?!”
On the other hand, there are some upsides to flying I hadn’t considered.
“Look, pal, I didn’t see your brand on the lady anywhere,” he said sarcastically, “and last I checked she wasn’t screaming for help. If you have a problem with her having a good time with someone else, try talking it out like a man rather than throwing a fit.”
That was, apparently, not the right thing to say. The man’s face reddened until Alex wondered if he’d have a stroke right there; then he lunged in with both arms swinging.
The way the fool was telegraphing himself Alex didn’t even have to tap into his more esoteric abilities; he just twisted his head slightly to let the punch flash past, then leaned back to avoid the next. When the third came, he evaded it just as easily, but realized a moment later that the swing would connect with the woman he’d been chatting up.
A meaty smack echoed through the bar as the man’s fist found itself stopped a hairsbreadth from Alice’s face, engulfed in Alex’s hand. For a moment neither of them moved; then just as the man started to swing again, Alex exploded into action.