“Some people might. I don’t. It’s a job. Has to be done.”
“How may people have you killed?”
“Today? None.” He looked over at her and grinned. “But then the day is young.”
“You know what I mean. Over the course of your career? Do you know? Any idea of the number? Or do you just do what they say, shoot ’em and let God sort it out?”
“I thought you said I was God.”
“You see, you just keep avoiding the question. I think you have a problem.”
“Tell you the truth, I don’t keep a tally in my head. The notches were all carved on my carbine, but I turned that in. So I’d have to check my computer and get back to you on the number,” he told her. “Fair to say there were days when I probably overshot my limit. But then, it’s not like fishing, is it? Can’t really catch and release after you’ve pulled the trigger.”
“I imagine it helps to be cavalier about it,” said Joselyn. “OK, so tell me, when you do it, are you usually up close, or are you far away? I suspect it’s probably easier to kill them when they’re at a distance. Less personal. ”
“Dwarfs and pigmies I shoot up close cuz they’re smaller and harder to hit,” said Akers.
Joselyn, who was trying to remain serious, couldn’t help but smile.
“Sometimes up close, sometimes far away. It depends on the situation,” he said, “that and how quickly they’re trying to kill you or one of your friends.”
“Do you just look ’em in the eye and pull the trigger?”
“I’m beginning to feel like a bug under glass,” he told her.
“Does it bother you to talk about it?”
“Not if it excites you. In that case, I’m happy to discuss it.”
“That’s not why I’m asking.”
“I think it is. You know what I think?”
“I don’t think I want to know.”
“I think you get off on being with a man who’s killed for a living.”
“That’s nonsense. I don’t! That’s not true.”
“Now who’s being defensive? So let me ask you, does it repel you?” he said.
“I didn’t say that.”
“Well, there you go. You’re just sort of neutral on the subject, is that it? That means with a little training, you could probably learn to kill with the best. You and I could go on the road, do a revival as Bonnie and Clyde.”
“Why is it you can’t be serious?” asked Joselyn.
“I guess it’s just not in my nature.”
“Is it that, or is it just that it hurts too much to talk?”
“Who says?”
“I don’t know. I’m asking.”
“What is it with you? I want to talk about us. And all you want to talk about is me.”
“There is no us,” said Joselyn. “This is business. And besides, I’ve never met a member of DEVGRU, so I’m curious.”
“You don’t mind if I crawl off the slide and out from under the microscope.”
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to pry.”
“You know, you’re a strange gal,” he said.
“How is that?”
“Well, for most women, half the fun is being pursued, but that doesn’t seem to hold true for you.”
“Maybe it’s just that rutting season is over,” she told him.
“That’s not what I meant.”
“I know what you meant.”
“You and Madriani, is that it?” said Akers.
“Yes. I suppose.”
“What is it he has that makes you happy?” asked Akers.
“What it always is between two people.”
“Lust?” said Akers.
“That lasts a nanosecond,” she told him. “There’s always a physical side, but it’s the comfort level that counts. When we’re together, I feel like I’m home if that makes any sense. Do you know what I mean?” She looked over at him.
The expression on his face was not one of understanding. To Joselyn, it looked more like fear, as if he had no clue. She wondered what it must be like to be at such a loss.
“You share the same values I suppose. Two bleeding hearts?” he said.
“Oh, God, no,” said Joselyn. “We argue all the time about politics. It’s like pounding sand. I’m a progressive. Paul’s a Neanderthal. We gave up on that long ago.”
“Maybe I misjudged your other half,” he said.
“Yeah, the two of you would probably get along.”
“Yesterday you asked me about the CIA. Let me tell you, the old CIA used to keep things in check, making sure that the right people got shot so that the wrong people didn’t get into power in some bad places around the world. Now you folks, you progressives have waved on the Arab Spring. We come to find out this eruption of democracy is nothing but an exchange of tyrants. Getting rid of those who were once friendly to Uncle Sam in favor of those who are not. Excuse me for saying, but this is what love-in liberals always produce. Don’t get me wrong, I’ve got nothing against love.” He winked at her. “But spineless policy always makes the world a more dangerous place. The thought that if we just love everybody, they’ll love us back, is how you get raped. That and the thought that if it doesn’t work, you can just bullshit your way through. After all, our fearless leader knows this always works with the voters. The problem is that, for the most part, they’re fucking morons,” said Akers. “So when things get out of control, he’s gotta call in the masked man.”
“I suppose that’s you on a white horse,” said Joselyn.
“Hi Ho Silver!” said Akers.
They rode on in silence for about an hour, then turned west toward 101. Akers occasionally looked over to check her out, a lusty glint in his eye. Joselyn’s shapely legs, one draped over the other, outlined in skintight stretch pants, left little to the imagination.
An hour later, they were speeding north up 101, cutting through the military base, what was left of Camp Roberts, now a National Guard training post. A few miles farther on, they came to a sign on the road: FORT HUNTER LIGGETT.
The sun was an hour into the sky to the east as they approached the guardhouse. Akers stopped the Escalade at the Army checkpoint, rolled down the window, and told the MP: “We’re registered at the Hacienda.”
The guard took a look at Akers’s driver’s license, made a note, checked the license plate on the car, wrote it down, and waved them through.
“What’s the Hacienda?” asked Jocelyn.
“Hearst’s old hunting lodge. Military uses it for guests, but it’s open to the public. You’ll like it. No bedbugs. Least I don’t think so.” Moments later, they pulled up in front of a sprawling Spanish Colonial building, gleaming white walls in the morning sun, red-tile roof with a tower.
“Are you sure they’re open?” Theirs was the only car in the parking lot.
“Yep. Best time of the year, off-season. Got the place to ourselves. Let’s go register and check in. We can unload the car and head over to the airfield,” he told her. Akers stepped out and went to the back of the car and opened the rear door. Inside was a large ice chest the size of a footlocker.
“What’s that?” she asked.
“Food and supplies,” he told her.
“We’re not staying for the month,” she said.
“Never can tell,” said Akers. “And you always want to be prepared.”
“No, really,” she asked.
“It’s food. In case you haven’t noticed, we’re in the middle of nowhere. The nearest restaurant and grocery is over a half hour away. Up to King City. I hope you can cook, cuz I can’t boil water.”
Joselyn wasn’t looking forward to setting up housekeeping with him, one hand on the frying pan, the other trying to ward him off.
He started to pull the chest out of the back of the car. “Got some steaks for tonight. We can barbecue ’em. Hearst used to have the servants bring food over from the ranch house.”
“Where’s that?” asked Joselyn.
“Over there.
Other side of those mountains.” Akers nodded toward the Santa Lucia Range in the distance to the west. “State owns it now. William Randolph hated the fuckin’ name, Hearst Castle. Insisted they call it the ranch. Now that’s a man with a healthy God complex. Unfortunately, he’s not here to entertain us. Get the back door,” he told her.
She closed the back door, then grabbed her overnight pack from the backseat, closed that door, and followed him toward to the lodge. “Aren’t you going to lock the car?”
“Who’s gonna steal anything out here. If the snakes don’t get ’em, the fucking MPs will probably shoot ’em out of pure boredom. Only action they’re ever gonna see.”
Akers lugged the ice chest into the building. Inside was a large, rustic reception area and a desk with a clerk behind it. The place was dated but clean and beautiful. Like a time capsule, it looked as if it hadn’t been touched since Hearst’s last visit.
Akers put the ice chest down on the ancient floor. He wrote his name on a slip of paper and handed it to the clerk, who pulled up the reservation.
“It’s already paid for on a credit card,” said the clerk.
“I know. We’re in the tower suite. I don’t imagine you have somebody who can bring up our luggage?”
“Leave it, we’ll take care of it,” said the clerk.
“Separate rooms,” said Joselyn, “remember?”
“You’re worse than a nun,” said Akers. “Not to worry, there are two bedrooms in the suite.”
The clerk handed him the key. “If you like, I can show you the way.”
“No need. Been here before.” Akers grabbed Joselyn by the hand and almost jerked her off her feet. She was still looking around, up at the beamed ceiling, what money could build. “Wait ’til you see the colonnade out back,” he told her. “You’ll feel right at home. Think you’re in a nunnery.”
“You could fit an army in this place,” said Joselyn.
“At times they do. Brass abuses the hell out of the place entertaining themselves. Used to hunt in the hills for wild boar,” said Akers. “Don’t know if they still do or not.”
They climbed the stairs, got to the top, and Akers opened the door, turned, and said: “Would you like me to carry you over the threshold?”
She smiled and brushed past him into the room. It was the size of a large condo, windows looking out at the gardens at the back of the building. Manicured grounds, green grass and boxed hedges. “It’s very nice.”
“And romantic,” said Akers. “Very romantic. There are two bottles of champagne in the ice chest. You cook a candlelit dinner, and I’ll get you drunk and do the rest.”
She walked over and glanced in the bedrooms. “Which room do you want?” she asked.
“Don’t know. Let me check the beds.”
Joselyn walked over to survey the kitchen. A few seconds later, Akers came out of one of the bedrooms and went into the other. A quick appraisal, and he came back out. He was holding a small pocketknife in his hand, cleaning his nails.
“What’s your verdict?” she asked.
“Why don’t we wait, and we can draw straws later for sleeping arrangements,” he told her. “First, let’s go take care of business. Let’s get to the airfield before we miss the bird. They’re liable to fly it out of here to Palmdale or Edwards before we can take a gander.”
Joselyn certainly didn’t want that to happen.
They headed back to the car. As Akers pulled out of the lot, he turned and headed north.
“I thought the airfield was the other way.”
“It is,” he said. “First, I want to show you something.” He turned left onto a side road, then right and went north for about a half mile. They pulled into a parking lot in front of sprawling old adobe. It was covered by Spanish tile, its red color bleached to a rusted hue by two centuries of scorching sunlight. There were two crosses on top, a smaller one on the outer sculpted facade in front, and another larger one at the peak of the main building behind it.
“It’s an old mission,” said Joselyn. “What’s it doing on a military base?”
“San Antonio de Padua,” said Akers. “Most people never see it because it’s inside the guard post. They assume they can’t get to it. It’s open to the public, they just don’t know it. And the Army doesn’t advertise it.”
“It’s beautiful.”
“According to experts, it’s probably the most authentic because of the pristine setting. The land around it hasn’t changed much since the old friars and conquistadors whipped the Indians to build it. That was in the late 1700s,” he said.
“I wish I had my camera.”
“We can come back later, you can get some pictures if you like.”
“Thank you,” she said. Joselyn turned and smiled at him. “There is a softer side to you after all. You need to show it more.”
“Stick with me, sweetheart, and I will.” He leaned over, kissed her on the cheek. Strange as it seemed, even to her, Joselyn didn’t move or make any effort to pull away.
They headed to the airfield, a heliport on the western perimeter of the base. Akers drove the Escalade into a dirt parking area that bordered the tarmac. Several large military helicopters were parked out on the asphalt apron. Between them was a small van. Beyond that, out on the shortened helipad runway, was a large, sleek UAV. Joselyn could see that it was good-sized and jet-powered.
IT LOOKED LIKE nothing so much as a giant white porpoise, a bulbous head up forward where the camera’s optics, infrared, radar, and other surveillance systems were arrayed. It had two long, slender, glider-like wings reminiscent of the old U-2 spy plane, and a v-shaped tail. On top, near the aft section, was a single large jet intake. The craft was sleek, curving, and had very few sharp angles. To Joselyn it looked as if it might possesses cloaking or stealth properties once airborne. Her attention was fixed on the underside of the nose of the UAV, looking for anything that might suggest a new system of home or structural invasive radar.
“It looks bigger than the Triton,” she said.
“It is,” said Akers. “Long-distance, high-altitude, and with STAL capabilities. Short takeoff and landing. Best part is, it can stay in the air over a target four times longer than anything we currently have. And can carry a full complement of ordnance.”
“I’d like to take a closer look,” she said.
“Sure, gimme a minute.” He reached into the backseat and pulled a pair of field glasses from the floor. He quickly scanned the area around the runway near the UAV. There were three men standing near the aircraft. “I know two of them. Third one I don’t recognize,” he said. He noticed another vehicle next to it in a dirt lot. It was a small light blue sedan with federal-government license plates, and lettering on the door: FOR OFFICIAL USE ONLY. “Somebody else is here, but I can’t be sure who it is. Let’s go ahead, take a chance. Just follow my lead,” he told her.
Joselyn opened her door and got out. She was anxious to get up close. A photo, even if she had to snap it with her cell phone, would have been priceless The legal penalties for such activity could also put her in prison for espionage. She didn’t dare. Not unless they gave her permission. She knew there was little hope of that. There was no question the UAV was highly classified.
Akers put the glasses down and opened his door. Just as he did it, he looked in the rearview mirror and saw a Humvee with two MPs drive onto the dirt parking area at a good clip. They pulled up behind him in a cloud of dust. Before he could get out of car, one of the MPs was already moving toward his door. The other one walked quickly toward Joselyn, who was already outside.
“Ma’am, get back in the car,” the MP told her.
The other one looked at Akers through the open door. “Sir, may I ask what you’re doing here?”
“Can I get my ID?” said Akers.
“Go ahead.”
Akers pulled out his wallet, opened it, and slipped a heavy plastic ID from the inside. He handed it to the MP, who looked at it, studied it for a second, looked at Ake
rs’s face, and said: “Sorry, sir. Didn’t mean to hassle you.” He handed the card back to Akers. “Who’s your friend?”
“She’s with me. I’ll take full responsibility,” he told the kid.
“Yes, sir. No problem.” He saluted Akers. “Have a nice day.” The MP looked at his partner, and they both headed back to the Humvee.
As soon as they pulled away, Joselyn, her hands shaking, turned to Akers, and said: “I was sure they were going to arrest us. How did you do that? That wasn’t your driver’s license you gave him.”
“No.”
“What was it?”
“My SEAL ID from DEVGRU,” he said.
“I don’t understand. You are out of the military.”
“Yes, but I never turned in the card,” he said.
“How did you do that?”
“Told them it was lost.”
“What if he had checked? Called in your name,” said Joselyn.
“He didn’t.”
“But what if he had?”
“I knew he wouldn’t.”
“Why?”
“Alpha principal,” said Akers. “Kid stationed out here. I doubt he’s ever seen action. Minute he sees that card, he knows I swim in it. He can sniff my ass, but that’s as close as he wants to get. Now he can go back to the mess, tell his three buddies and the cook how he met somebody from Team Six.”
“So you’re a celebrity,” said Joselyn.
“If you want to call it that. Like it or not, I made his day. Hell, a kid stuck out here who has to drive for an hour to catch a movie, I probably made his whole year,” said Akers.
“You do like the edge, don’t you?”
“Gives me a rush,” he said. “Seems like the only thing that keeps me alive. Let’s go take a look at this bird.”
Chapter 11
HERMAN AND I finally find Akers’s house. It’s a small, ranch-style bungalow on a quiet side street in Chula Vista. The yard looks as if it has hasn’t been mowed or watered in a couple of years. Dead palm fronds from a tree next door litter the front of the house. There is a weathered FOR RENT sign, its red lettering faded to pink, wired to the chain-link fence along the sidewalk.
“Are you sure this is it?”
PMadriani 12.5 - The Second Man Page 5