On the horizon off the starboard side, the blackening silhouette of the Enterprise was pinned against a dimming, sapphire mantle. It was the only other ship within sight. Even more than a mile and a half away, she posed magnificently.
Spurs noted the ship had begun a slow turn to port and then heard footfalls on the left side ladder disrupting her peace. She turned to see Commander Reeves step up, seeming surprised to run into her.
“Well,” he said, “Good evening, Ensign.”
“Good evening, sir,” she returned and began walking—staggering toward the starboard steps. The ship’s course change had caused the vessel to rock more, making movement increasingly difficult. The angling deck would not cooperate, not take her determined steps seriously. It was as close to feeling drunk as she had felt without drinking.
“No,” he insisted, “Please stay. Don’t let me run you off. Besides, we need to talk.”
Spurs didn’t wish to talk. She couldn’t imagine what he would have to say that might be of interest to her. She wished he wasn’t such a jerk. He’d been very polite to her at chow. But what could he possibly say to excuse himself of such blatant chauvinism earlier? She stopped halfway to the ladder and waited. Reeves walked to where she’d been standing and motioned for her to come back.
“Come on,” he said, “I won’t bite.”
Reluctantly, she returned, but within two steps the playful deck tipped, then pitched up after the ship made a slapping stab at the sea and she found herself off balance and groping for a handhold on the short safety wall. Reeves reached and took her by the forearm to steady her, but before regaining control, the side of her head struck the commander square in the mouth. She pulled away, getting a good hold on the bulwarks and saw him reel back from the stinging pain he must have been feeling. Still frowning as he looked to her, he raked his top teeth over his bottom lip and then shook his head with a grin while holding his jaw.
Again the deck dipped low, then it pitched up playfully, tipping them too far for their feet to stay planted to the painted on non-skid surface on the steel deck. This time Spurs held firm to the bulwarks, but Commander Reeves seemed to have been unprepared. He staggered back, then stumbled to her. Spurs held up one hand to brace against him, still holding on with the other as he fell into her.
His weight jarred her and before she realized, she had clung onto him. He clutched the rail of the short wall with his right hand, his left arm around her middle. Looking up into his face, she saw a gleam in his eyes. He smiled. Chuckled. Relieved that he was not angered, she laughed also. Somehow, he looked different now, almost human.
A spot of blood appeared from the corner of his mouth as he grinned. She snatched a handkerchief from her pocket and dabbed it against his lip. As she pulled it away she felt entranced, and he seemed to be also, their eyes locking like infrared sights on their targets.
The ship had adjusted its course and stabilized somewhat, and there was no reason to cling to each other. If one of the crew should see them, there could be a misunderstanding. The two eased away from each other.
“Pardon me, sir,” Spurs said, straightening her uniform.
“The pleasure was mine, I assure you,” Reeves said, his grin slowly fading as he leaned on the bulwarks and looked out to sea.
Spurs joined him, leaning against the rail.
“I wanted to apologize to you, Ensign—can I call you Janelle, or Jan?”
She surprised herself when she answered without considering the XO’s chauvinist attitude when they met. “Friends call me Spurs.” But perhaps she should give him a second chance. It would be better for the investigation if she were able to speak with him openly and without them harboring any hostilities toward one another.
“Spurs—yeah, I like that. It fits. I’ll bet you’re a cowgirl.”
“Sort of, sir. I’ve done some riding and a little roping. I was Junior Girls Champion in calf roping.”
“I’ll be damned,” he said then looked toward the Enterprise—the Big E. “A real cowgirl. So, what in the hell did you join the Navy for? What were you trying to prove?”
Spurs felt the hair on the back of her neck raise. “Prove, sir?”
Reeves looked back to her, seeming to realize that he’d stepped on her toes.
“Easy Spurs, I just meant, why would a beautiful young woman, intelligent enough to make Honors at Oklahoma University, join the Navy? There’s a lot better money in civilian life.”
Spurs frowned.
“Yeah,” he said, “I took a good look at your records. You were also an honor graduate at Officer’s Candidate School.”
She smiled. “I didn’t join to prove anything, sir. There are a lot of opportunities for women in the service nowadays. It’s an equal-opportunity employer and the pay might not be great, but the scale is the same for men and women. You don’t see that too often out in the real world. Besides, I had to see what my father thought was so great about the sea.”
“Admiral Oliver T. Sperling? Seems to me that you could have afforded a more prestigious school with an admiral for a father. Hell, maybe even made a go for Annapolis.”
“I would have liked to, but my the Admiral wouldn’t allow it. I liked OU.”
“He’s retired now, your father?”
“Yeah, six years ago, after forty-five years. All that time he was at sea and I never got a ride on anything bigger than a commuter shuttle in San Francisco. The first ten years of my life I spent bouncing around with my mother from Honolulu to Manila to London to Washington, DC. We’d stayed with relatives on their ranch in Oklahoma for a couple of years. Then, when mom died when we went to visit my father in Okinawa, I went back to Oklahoma to live. The Admiral—my father, retired the summer I graduated from high school. He wanted me to go to one of those all-girl schools back east. I guess that’s when we really started drifting apart. Then, when I joined the Navy, he really went ballistic. He wanted me to go to school and get cultured and learn the arts and marry a career naval officer like my mother did. Instead I became a cowgirl and then got a man’s job at sea.”
“How’d your mother die?”
“She drowned.”
“I’m sorry.”
“That was a long time ago. Like I said, we were visiting the Admiral in Okinawa. Mother and I went out on a local beach to get some sun. She told me that she was going for a little swim. She trotted out into the water and never came back. They said the undertow got her—pulled her out to sea.” She paused and stared out blankly. “It was really strange. I just sat there on my towel, waiting for her to come splashing out of the water and take me home. But she never did.” She looked at her hands folded across the bulwarks in front of her. “Some Marines found me the next morning and took me to the Admiral. We’d been staying with Aunt Katherine and Uncle Paul on their ranch. He sent me back there to live. They always treated me like a daughter.”
“You were what, only twelve?”
She nodded.
He looked back to the Enterprise. “It must have been terrible.”
She also looked. “Hell of a ship, don’t you think, sir?”
Reeves grinned still staring at it. His Southern twang came alive as he spoke. “Yes, she is. Ninety-one-thousand tons, 1,101 feet long, 133 foot beam, 39 foot draft. Powered by four steam turbines hooked up to eight big, beautiful A2W nuclear reactors.” He took a deep breath still gazing at the aircraft carrier. “You know, those reactors use over 90 percent pure Uranium-235. The standard commercial nuclear-power plant uses only two to five percent.”
Spurs watched the commander’s intense stare as he narrated more. His words were spoken as if he were reciting poetry from a tech manual.
“Three 20mm Phalanx guns, two Sea Sparrow launchers, two Mk 91 fire control systems. She carries on her decks; F-14s, A-7s, A-6s, and occasionally F-18s along with various other fixed wing and rotor-type aircraft. A crew of over 6,000 sailors including a small compliment of Marines call her home.”
He turned to Spurs, his
face becoming solemn. “I should have been on her,” he said.
“Maybe someday?”
“No, Spurs. Not this sailor.”
“Why’s that, sir?”
He looked back at the ocean. “The Navy’s chosen a different path for me.”
It seemed a good time to change the subject again. “What did you want to apologize for, sir?”
“For the hard time I gave you earlier. I know you probably thought I was a real asshole.”
Spurs grinned. It seemed enough of an answer. “You shocked me, sir,” she said. “I’d hoped that such chauvinistic attitudes had died with the old Navy. There are nearly 11,000 women serving at sea now. We’ve proven ourselves in most every job the Navy has to offer from deck hand to jet-fighter pilot to ship’s captain—women have been killed and even captured in combat. It’s time we got an honest and sincere break. And I’m not saying to give us anything that we don’t deserve. Make the standards—both physical and mental, the same for men and women. Those who can hack it, no matter who they are, no matter what gender, should be allowed to perform whatever tasks they’re qualified to do.”
Reeves smiled. “I’m well aware of the accomplishments and contributions of women in the Navy, Spurs.
There have been some drawbacks and things that can’t be adjusted overnight. I appreciate your impatience, but don’t push too hard. It causes friction when you rub two tough old sticks together fast. Rub them slow and you won’t start a fire. Most men believe in equality nowadays. Don’t set fire to the cat, then throw it in our laps. Let us get used to it first. We have to pet it a couple of times before we can find out it’s not that bad.”
Spurs looked down as the commander continued.
“There are many hurdles; Navy wives don’t care much about their husbands serving extended times with women aboard ships, accommodations must be made for women’s special needs—pregnant women aboard ships create a whole new set of challenges. I know we’ll be better off once the transition is over and we have men and women serving alongside each other as equals. I’ll remind you that a man, Admiral Zumwalt, was responsible for changing the Navy’s policies to make better use of women’s talents, to try to do away with legal and attitudinal restrictions.”
Spurs frowned and looked at him. “Then why did you give me such a bad time?”
Reeves lowered his voice. “I was testing you.”
“Testing?”
He kept his whisper. “I’ve got to tell you that from first appearances, I had my doubts about you being able to handle your assignment. I thought I’d test you, you know, give you a poke and see if you’d squeal. You did squeal—but not too loud.”
Spurs eyes widened. A relieved smile came over her lips.
“You’re my contact?” she said.
Now it was Reeves’ eyes growing big. He frowned and scanned around them. “Loose lips do sink ships, Ensign, or haven’t you heard?”
She realized her blunder and put her hand to her mouth.
“I’m sorry. I got carried away. It’s just that I was beginning to wonder.”
“Well, quit wondering and keep your voice down,” he said with a slight smirk on his face. “There’s another reason I tried to scare you off.”
“What’s that?”
He turned to her. “You’re a very beautiful young woman. A simple mistake, and you could end up dead.”
She wondered if she were older and ugly would he think it would be less of a loss. “I understood the risks when I hired on with NCIS.”
“Yes, I suppose you did.”
“Tell me what’s going on. Does it have anything to do with the Tomahawks? What have you found out?”
“Slow down there, Annie Oakley. We’ve got plenty of time. And by the way, I hope you’ll understand when I treat you like alligator crap around the crew. The one thing we can’t have is suspicion.”
“I’ll understand.”
“Good. Now, as far as the investigation goes, according to my sources the Tomahawks aren’t concerned. Their deployment on this ship is routine and not involved. No one knew about them outside of the top Navy brass except the captain, Lieutenant North and myself until we put them on board three months ago.”
“But if North is somehow involved. . . .”
“You’re getting ahead of me. Like I said, according to my sources, the cruise missiles aren’t.”
“What sources are those, sir?”
Reeves took a quick glance around ensuring their privacy. “I have an informant in Barcelona.”
“NCIS?”
“No, a civilian—a woman.”
“Are you sure she can be trusted? I mean, she didn’t just walk up and tell you? You checked her out?”
Reeves frowned. He paused before saying, “Miss Sperling, may I remind you that this is not my first rodeo.
Spurs bowed her head. “Sorry, sir.”
“It also coincides with what I’ve been able to piece together. As near as I can tell, Ensign Nader was in the middle of a drug smuggling ring working on US Navy ships. He’d started getting second thoughts and wanted out, but they wouldn’t let him. He either couldn’t take the pressure and jumped to his death or had endangered the drug operation and was given a little help by his cohorts. The crewman that went overboard the week before was in the same fix. The two AWOLs are probably dealing with the druggies on shore somewhere, maybe helping to convince other sailors to join them.”
“But Nader’s parents were so sure he wasn’t involved in drugs. They said he was a clean kid. He was an Annapolis grad.”
“You know that doesn’t matter. Even the most squeaky clean can get muddied up with drugs. It just happens.” Reeves looked at the aircraft carrier. “There seems to be a new synthetic cocaine out on the market called Japanese Rapture, or Jap Rap. It was developed by some Japanese scientists and they sold the formula and processing equipment to a group of Muslim terrorists that call themselves Allah’s Jihad. Unknown to our simple-minded American GIs, the terrorists are selling this new high at cut rate prices to flood the market with a cocaine-like substance that is one hundred times as potent, twice as addictive, and ten times deadlier.
“We think that they’ve given samples out to some stateside drug kingpins and those sons-of-bitches ordered a whole shit-load. They’ve devised a plan to transport the stuff back to the US aboard Navy ships. They’re paying off a number of young sailors with some big bucks and getting them to smuggle it aboard several ships of the Sixth Fleet. This stuff’s so potent, a soda straw-full could keep most of Hollywood high for a month—or kill them in a second.”
Spurs felt a rush. She’d wanted to get involved. To do her part in something big. This was big. She hoped she could handle it.
Commander Reeves continued, “The going price for this rat poison is twenty-five thousand a pound. And it’s nearly undetectable, even by dogs. They’re carrying it aboard in their shoes, their skivvies, swallowing it in balloons and stashing it on the ships by the sea bag full. I’m guessing that by the time we steam back to the states, between all of the ships in the fleet we’ll be carrying over ten tons of the shit.”
“Good lord, what can we do? How do we stop them? Can we suspend all shore leave in the ports that we suspect it’s coming from?”
“That’s no good. These guys have a free reign in Europe. They can distribute from anywhere.”
“I don’t get it. It’d seem easier for them to use another method—domestic flights maybe, or merchant ships since it’s so hard to detect.”
“Evidently, using the US’s own military is part of Allah’s Jihad’s plan. They corrupt our own people.
Screw up some of our young officers. Cause scandals. Basically embarrass us. That’s worth a lot to these bastards.”
“What can we do?”
“For now, just wait. We have to look for a break. Something to tip us to their leader. If we can get to their boss, we can stop an epidemic of death worse than the plague of the middle ages.”
&nb
sp; Spurs stared at Reeves.
“I need you to stay sharp,” he said. “Do exactly as I tell you. Allah’s Jihad are bloodthirsty killers. They wouldn’t hesitate to slit your throat.”
Spurs nodded.
“Now for the bad news,” Reeves continued. “I believe the man in charge of the American’s part in the operation is an officer aboard this ship. His code name to them is Chameleon. And he has at least two other people on board.”
It would be someone with connections and influence. Spurs asked, “Not the captain?”
“No, Captain Naugle has problems, but illicit drugs is not one of them. He’s retiring after this cruise. He’d been planning on it since we left the states. That’s all he’d talked about. His trouble came when his wife of thirty years sent him a Dear John letter two months ago. I don’t care—drug dealers, terrorists, or tsunami, I’m going to see to it that the man makes it through this cruise without incident and gets the retirement he deserves. If Admiral Pierce suspects he’s been drinking while captaining this ship, he’ll lose everything. That’s not going to happen. And, by the way, the skipper wants to see you sometime this evening.”
Spurs acknowledged with another nod. “Do you have any suspects? What about this Marine captain— Chardoff?”
“He’s a definite maybe. If he is in cahoots with the terrorists, he’ll be one dangerous mother.”
Spurs nodded again. “What’re he and his men on board for, anyway?”
“They’re attached to us officially for training purposes. They’ll disembark from the Atchison to go on their training missions as if from a troop ship or carrier like they’d normally be attached to. Unofficially they’re here to help us with security for the Tomahawks. I have three other suspects; Ensign Ingrassias, Lieutenant Junior Grade Goodman and Lieutenant North. Be careful around any of these men. I suspect either North or Chardoff is the Chameleon. Whatever you do, don’t trust North for anything. If he’s who we’re after, he’ll kill you just as easy as lie to you. He’ll probably pretend to be an ally if it’s to his advantage.”
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