by John J. Rust
Rastun grinned back.
Geek cleared his throat. “On that note…” He started across the parking lot toward Epic Venture.
Rastun and Karen followed. Once onboard, the boat’s captain, a stout, gray-haired man named Bo Snider, greeted them and took them belowdecks.
When Snider pointed out Rastun’s cabin, he noticed it was a clone of the one from Bold Fortune. It had a single bunk, a small bathroom and not much elbow room. He set his duffle bag by the foot of his bunk and went back to the Escalade with Geek to retrieve their weapons. Rastun grabbed a case containing an Aster 7 dart launcher, but didn’t pull it out.
“Something wrong, Cap’n?”
“I don’t want these weapons out of our sight. More importantly, I don’t want the ammo out of our sight.”
“You think our mole might try to switch out our ammo again?” asked Geek.
“I’m not giving him or her another chance to do it,” said Rastun. “So we keep our weapons with us at all times.”
“The famous Rastun paranoia at work again, huh?”
“And you’re not paranoid?”
“No, but I am very, very, very concerned.”
Rastun stared at him for a few moments, then shrugged. “Works for me.”
They headed back to Epic Venture. Rastun just stepped onto the deck when Malakov emerged from the fly bridge. Her eyes darted to the gun cases he carried. Rastun readied himself for another anti-gun tirade.
To his surprise, she said nothing. Malakov just gave him a sideways glance and a smile that lacked any warmth.
The same kind of smile she had given him after the meeting with Admiral Timmins at Coast Guard Station Barnegat Light.
She’s up to something. Rastun vowed to keep a close eye on her.
It was late afternoon by the time everyone’s gear was stowed, all supplies loaded and the fuel tanks topped off. The group went to a restaurant a few blocks from the marina for dinner. Rastun knew he and Geek couldn’t take their dart launchers or shotguns inside. Instead, they left them in Geek’s Escalade. With all the security systems Aster Technologies had installed in the vehicle, no one would be able to break into it without them knowing.
When they finished eating, they returned to Epic Venture for a briefing. Ehrenberg suggested beginning their search 15 miles east of Little Egg Harbor, where the largest concentration of sightings had been reported by the Coast Guard.
“We’ll probably be chasing ghosts,” said Pilka. “I’ll bet most, if not all, those sightings are shadows, sharks or whales.”
“You might be right,” Ehrenberg replied. “Still, it’s as good a place as any to start.”
When the briefing ended, Rastun and Geek went topside. Rastun stood near the bow, while Geek went to the stern. The sun hung low in the sky when Epic Venture left its slip and sailed north toward Barnegat Bay.
Rastun took a deep breath of salt air, staring out at the water and the small islands in the distance. Finally, they were back at sea. No more wasting time in a hotel room or searching wildlife refuges just to have something to do. Now they could do something productive to find the Point Pleasant Monster and eliminate it.
Epic Venture neared the inlet to the Atlantic Ocean when Ehrenberg’s voice came over his radio. “I need everyone to gather in the conference room immediately.”
I wonder what this is about. Rastun made his way to the salon. Malakov, Pilka and Montebello were already seated at the conference table when he arrived. Geek and Karen showed up a few seconds later, followed by Captain Snider and Tamburro.
Ehrenberg appeared, laptop tucked under his arm. Rastun noted the man’s ever-present smile was absent. That usually meant bad news.
“I just received a call from Director Lynch.” The cryptozoologist sat down and turned on his laptop. “A segment aired on ABC News a half-hour ago concerning this expedition. Or rather, one member of this expedition.”
Ehrenberg tapped on the keyboard, then turned the laptop around so everyone could see the screen. It showed the ABC News website. A short commercial ran prior to the chosen segment. Rastun noticed Malakov sitting up straighter in her seat.
The theme for the newscast played. A voice off-screen introduced the dark-haired, middle-aged anchor.
“We begin tonight with information that has come to light concerning a member of the FUBI expedition searching for the Point Pleasant Monster along the Jersey Shore. Field Security Specialist Jack Rastun has gained notoriety over the past week for stopping the creature’s rampage on the Point Pleasant boardwalk and his daring rescue of a Coast Guard officer whose boat was attacked by the creature. Prior to working for the FUBI, Rastun served with the U.S. Army Rangers and was a decorated veteran of the wars in Iraq and Afghanistan. But ABC has learned the reason for Rastun’s controversial exit from the military. Here’s correspondent Tori Newfield with an ABC News exclusive.”
Rastun’s face tightened, trying to suppress any sign of his rising concern.
A security camera image of Rastun shooting at the Point Pleasant Monster on the boardwalk ran as Tori Newfield began her commentary.
“A real-life action hero. That’s how some have described FUBI security specialist Jack Rastun following his recent confrontations with the Point Pleasant Monster. Heroic acts are nothing new to this former Army officer. Military records show that Rastun has been awarded the Silver Star and the Distinguished Service Medal for gallantry in combat. His former commanding officers have praised him as an exemplary officer. Lieutenant Colonel Salvatore Lipeli, former commander of the First Ranger Battalion and current FUBI Director of Field Security, said in one report, quote, ‘Captain Rastun is the embodiment of what a Ranger should be and will be a valuable asset to the United States Army for many years to come,’ end quote. So why did such a highly regarded officer suddenly leave the Army?”
Rastun clenched his teeth. They know.
“A senior military official speaking on condition of anonymity told ABC News that Rastun was forced out of the Army for assaulting a superior officer shortly after last year’s Western Sahara hostage rescue. Military records show that Rastun led the Army Ranger team that rescued nine of the ten State Department members held by the rebel Polisario Front for fifty-one days. Despite the deaths of one hostage and five servicemen, the Pentagon dubbed the mission a resounding success. The senior military official provided ABC News with an after-action report of the mission that details Rastun’s behavior upon his arrival at Tan Tan Airport in Morocco.”
A headshot of Rastun wearing his tan Ranger beret appeared on the screen, along with words from the report.
Newfield continued, “It reads, quote, ‘Captain Rastun was despondent over the deaths of his men. He accused his superior officers of not providing enough support and of improper planning. Captain Rastun was ordered to stand down, but refused to comply. He then physically assaulted Colonel Osgood. While Colonel Osgood was on the ground, Captain Rastun drew his service pistol and pointed it at Colonel Osgood. Captain Rastun was disarmed and placed into custody before he could fire,’ end quote. ABC News also contacted the officer in charge of the Royal Moroccan Air Force detachment at Tan Tan Airport, who confirmed there was, in his words, a violent confrontation between U.S. soldiers.”
Rastun felt the eyes of everyone around the table on him as Newfield went on.
“As to why Rastun was not prosecuted for such a serious offense, that senior military official told ABC News the Army wanted to cover up the incident so as not to taint what had been a successful hostage rescue. As a result, Rastun and three other Rangers were forced to leave the Army. Pentagon officials have so far declined to comment on this matter.”
Ehrenberg swung the computer around and turned off the sound.
Rastun gazed around the table. Many, including Karen, stared at him with shocked expressions. Geek looked pissed.
Malakov, no surprise, wore a smug smile.
“Is this true, Jack?” asked Ehrenberg. “Did you really pull a gun on anothe
r Army officer?”
Rastun exhaled slowly. Try as he might, he couldn’t look Ehrenberg, or anyone else at the table, in the eyes.
“Yes.”
THIRTY-FOUR
“I don’t believe it.” Karen stared at him with an incredulous look.
Rastun sat in silence. Anger, shock and concern all fought to dominate his emotions. He pressed his fists on the table, trying to settle himself.
That’s when he saw Malakov out the corner of his eye. Her smile grew.
“You knew.” Rastun’s tone was low and ominous. “You knew this was coming down, didn’t you?”
“Of course I did.”
“What?” blurted Ehrenberg. “Lauren, what are you talking about?”
“I was interviewed by Tori Newfield five years ago on an article I wrote about climate change affecting the mating habits of various animals. It turned out she’s just as passionate about protecting the environment as I am. We became friends, and I’ve helped her from time to time on environmental stories. I called in a favor, asked her to dig into your background.” Malakov looked at Rastun. “You’re an ex-soldier. You had to have committed some acts of brutality in Iraq and Afghanistan. I didn’t expect something like this, but it ought to be good enough to get you thrown out of the FUBI.”
“Lauren, you have crossed the line.” Ehrenberg’s eyes narrowed.
“Have I? You heard the report. Is this the type of man you want on an expedition? Maybe next time he has a meltdown he’ll point a gun at you, and maybe he’ll actually shoot you.”
“You don’t know shit, lady!” Geek came halfway out of his seat.
“Geek.” Rastun held up his hand.
Geek aimed a harsh gaze at Malakov before sitting back down.
Rastun pushed himself to his feet and looked around the table. “I told you it’s true. I did draw my pistol on a superior officer.” His eyes settled on Malakov. “But like a lot of mainstream reporters, your friend Ms. Newfield conveniently left out a lot of facts, especially about the colonel in that report, Osgood.”
“What about him?” asked Ehrenberg.
“Colonel Osgood was assigned to JSOC.”
“JSOC?” asked Karen.
“Joint Special Operations Command. When that State Department delegation to Western Sahara was taken hostage, he managed to sell his pet project, economical warfare, to the Pentagon.”
“Economical warfare?” Pilka’s face scrunched in confusion. “What’s that?”
“We all knew some big cuts to the defense budget were on the horizon,” Rastun replied. “All the branches of the Armed Forces were doing their damnedest to lessen the impact of those cuts, so the brass was interested in any idea that let them do more with less. Osgood convinced them we could execute a hostage rescue mission with fewer personnel and assets than normal.”
“Basically, hostage rescue on the cheap,” said Geek.
Rastun nodded. “And since he served in the Rangers, he convinced the Pentagon we could pull off this mission. The problem with that is we Rangers specialize in light infantry tactics, recon and raids on insurgent bases. Delta Force and SEAL Team Six handle hostage rescue. But again, budget cuts were coming. Osgood thought if the Rangers added another specialty to our mission profile, those cuts wouldn’t hit us as bad.”
Rastun paused, memories of Western Sahara flooding his mind. “The whole mission was screwed up from the start. Osgood only allowed a dozen Rangers to be on the rescue team. He said we wouldn’t need any more since the Polisarios had only ten men guarding the hostages. So much for a two-to-one or three-to-one advantage. He also allocated one Predator drone for recon and one V-22 Osprey for extraction.” He shook his head, frustration boiling. “He even limited the amount of ammunition we could carry. Just enough to get the job done, he said.”
“Good thing we scrounged more ammo behind Colonel Osgood’s back,” Geek said. “Otherwise we wouldn’t be here right now.”
“I tried to tell Osgood we needed more personnel and more assets, but he wouldn’t hear it. He was determined to prove this economical warfare idea would work so he could get his star and a cushy office in the Pentagon.”
“But it must have worked,” said Karen. “You rescued those State Department people.”
“All but one.” Rastun clenched his jaw, remembering the woman gunned down near his vehicle.
Then Sergeant Tate falling just behind her.
“The rescue went fine. But when we started loading the hostages into our Humvees, the whole village lit up like a fireworks show. Gunfire was coming out of every window. Our one Predator was grounded due to engine trouble. We had no updated intel on our target area for fourteen hours, an eternity in my business. We had no idea the Polisarios had more people.”
He noticed Karen giving him a sympathetic look as he went on. “We had to fight our way out of the village to the extraction point. That’s when another of my men bought it, Leyva. Just when the Osprey was coming in, it took an RPG round and crashed. We managed to rescue the co-pilot and one of the flight engineers, but the pilot and other flight engineer were killed. Our back-up transport was a hundred-thirty miles away with a Marine Expeditionary Force off the coast. It took them over an hour to reach us. I lost another man, Harris, and had four others wounded. We were running low on ammo. Hell, I was about to order us to fix bayonets when the Marines showed up.”
Rastun tried to push down the lump forming in his throat. His mind propelled him back to that night. He pictured the cargo hold of the Marine V-22. The stench of sweat and blood permeated the air. Hostages cried in relief. His Rangers cried out in pain. Thomas’ left leg had been torn to shreds. Vazquez had his hands pressed over his eyes, yelling, “I’m blind! Shit, I’m blind.”
And he couldn’t do a damn thing to alleviate their suffering.
“When we got back to Morocco,” Rastun continued, “Osgood was in my grill, saying I screwed up the mission. Then…then he tells me that with so many people dead and wounded, he’d be lucky if the Pentagon ever listened to another idea of his again. He said I probably cost him his star.”
Rastun’s anger felt as fresh now as it did that night in the desert a year ago. He didn’t bother keeping it out of his voice.
“Three of my men were dead. Good men. Good friends. And four more were wounded. One of them went blind and two others lost limbs. But all that son-of-a-bitch Osgood cared about was whether or not he got to be a general. So yeah, I snapped. I decked Osgood.”
“Then why did you point a gun at him?” asked Pilka.
“It’s one of those facts Doctor Malakov’s pal left out of her story, probably the biggest fact of all. Colonel Osgood went for his pistol first.”
“You’re lying,” said Malakov.
“The hell he is,” Geek barked. “I was with the Cap’n on that mission. I saw Osgood go for his gun. The Cap’n here was faster, had his Beretta out and aimed at Osgood’s head before that prick could get his gun out of his holster. But Osgood brought a couple of special ops guys from JSOC as his bodyguards. In all my sixteen years in the Army, I’ve never seen a colonel with his own bodyguards. Goes to show how self-important Osgood thought he was.”
“And those bodyguards didn’t shoot him?” asked Captain Snider.
“Nope.” Geek shook his head. “They were just taking their M4s off their shoulders when I jammed the barrel of my rifle into one guy’s head. Another of our guys, Branch, did the same with the other bodyguard. Luckily, Colonel Lipeli was there, screaming at us to stand down. We did.”
“I can’t believe you didn’t get in trouble after all that,” said Ehrenberg.
“We did,” Rastun responded. “Me, Geek and Branch were arrested. We were looking at assault charges, even attempted murder. But the Pentagon wanted this mission to be a success. It would be a black eye for them if word got out that members of the rescue team almost shot their fellow soldiers. So we were given a choice. Resign from the Army with an honorable discharge or be court-martialed.”
“That doesn’t sound like much of a choice,” said Karen.
“No, it wasn’t.”
“Nice story,” Malakov scoffed. “But it’s your word against an official report.”
“That ‘official report’ is bullshit,” Geek told her. “That was Osgood’s side of the story.” He turned to Rastun. “How much you wanna bet he’s that ‘senior military official’ they were talking about?”
“It wouldn’t surprise me. I suppose Osgood does have an axe to grind with me.”
“Did he have to leave the Army, too?” asked Ehrenberg.
“No,” Rastun answered. “After all, he was the victim. But after an incident like that, they weren’t keen on giving him a star and an office at Fort Fumble.”
Most of the people at the table gave him perplexed looks.
“I mean, the Pentagon. So they made Osgood the CO of the Army Ammunition Plant in Iowa.”
“Not exactly the plum assignment he was hoping for,” Geek chimed in.
“So there’s the story. The real story.” Rastun glared briefly at Malakov. “And if Ms. Newfield really wanted to do her job, she could have also asked that senior military official for my after-action report, and Geek’s, and Colonel Lipeli’s, and the rest of our team’s, because they’ll confirm everything we said.”
“It won’t matter.” Malakov maintained her smug expression. “The public won’t believe you. It’ll just look like damage control. I told you I’d find a way to get you off this expedition and out of the FUBI.”
“That decision’s not up to you, Lauren,” Ehrenberg told her. “It’s up to Director Lynch.”
“What did he say about this?” asked Rastun.
“I guess you’ll have to find out for yourself, Jack. Lynch wants to see you and Geek at FUBI Headquarters first thing tomorrow morning.”
THIRTY-FIVE
Rastun stared out the window of Geek’s Escalade, saying nothing as they drove down I-95. He barely registered the vehicles streaming around them, or the lights of nearby Newark, Delaware. All he could think of was his impending meeting with the FUBI brass.