by Scott Cook
“What if we run up river in the Ballard,” McClay offered. “At thirty knots, we can make the same trip in an hour and a half. Start at 0400 and be in position to launch the mini by half five or earlier. Local dawn comes at around 0630.”
I nodded, “I like it. That gives us all day to prep and lets the team get some rack time before the party starts. Then presuming all goes well, we can take the mini back out to sea. It’ll be a long run, but at that point, who cares? What’s the average depth in the San Juan, though?”
“Oh, plenty,” McClay said. “Deep enough to your target to keep the Rodney Fox submerged and well below the keel of any passing commercial vessels.”
“Great,” I said, getting to my feet. “Then that’s our plan. You think it’ll be okay, though? Bringing this ship up the river?”
McClay scoffed, “Lad, they don’t exactly keep the sharpest watch over here. Bad for business, you know.”
“The drug trade.” I said sardonically.
“While the Nicaraguan government officially condemns it,” McClay offered. “Well… a nod is as good as a wink and all that.”
I sighed, “Okay then. I appreciate this, gents.”
“Just make sure you put us in the next book,” Brody said.
I chuckled softly, “I’m almost done with it, Jack. And it’s… quite a tale.”
Brody met my eyes and nodded, “With a not so happy ending, I’m afraid.”
Jibreel and McClay looked a little crestfallen, too. Imani Tariffa, or in truth Ariel Mizrahi, was a brave and intelligent woman whom everyone liked and respected. Her death had touched all four of us deeply.
“Very well then,” I said in a stuffy upper crust English accent. “Carry on, mind how you go, stiff upper lip and all that, what?”
Nobody was in the dining compartment. They probably hadn’t done a big sit down meal. I went down one level to the galley and found it empty except for Lisa, who was just finishing making a couple of sandwiches.
“Hey, sailor,” she said, “figured you might like a bite, so I made you a couple of turkey sammies and some potato salad.”
“Thanks,” I said, walking over to the prep island where she stood.
She pushed a freshly opened bottle of Kalik toward me. We drank and then I found myself staring at her for a long moment.
“What?”
“Lisa… when you were in Missouri… did you ever meet a woman named Audrey Lambert?”
Lisa blinked in surprise, “Yeah… well, I knew her. I haven’t talked to her in like six months or so.”
“Tell me about it.”
“Why?”
“Just tell me.”
She shrugged, “She was a temporary consultant. Came on back at Christmas time. She, Andrea, Miles and I worked together on the Green City project. I think it was Audrey who recommended Costa Rica in the first place.”
I remained silent but my surprise was as biting as the cold water.
“She and I hung out a few times,” Lisa said. “Workouts, dinners, a few drinks…”
“Please don’t take this the wrong way… it’s not about my ego or Miles or any of that… but did you and Audrey… discuss… us?”
Lisa cocked her eyebrow and nodded, “yeah. This was before Miles and I… changed the nature of our relationship. I was still lonely and missing you and it was nice to talk to another woman.”
I took a long pull from my bottle and was silent for a long moment, “Well, that explains that anyway…”
“What do you mean?” Lisa asked in confusion.
“It doesn’t matter,” I said dismissively.
She narrowed her eyes at me, “What, do you know her? Did you and she…”
“Do you want to know this?”
Lisa sighed, “I guess not. Although the answer is pretty obvious. Sounds like there might be a story there. I take it you two hooked up sometime between then and now. What happened?”
I turned and looked out the viewport as the Costa Rican coast dwindled off our port quarter, “It’s a story all right.”
“Was she the one you talked about earlier? Did she love ya’ and leave ya’?” Lisa asked playfully, although when I looked back at her face, I thought I saw pain there.
“In a manner of speaking,” I said flatly. “And no, she wasn’t the kind and brave one I mentioned before… in fact, Audrey is the reason Imani died. They both did. Let’s change the subject.”
She reached out and touched my arm, “You’ve been through a lot over the past few months, huh? I’m sorry…”
I shrugged and sighed wanly, “Which I suppose means that while part of you would like to come… come back to Orlando, you still don’t feel like you’ve truly found yourself yet.”
She met my gaze and I could see her eyes were moist, “Geez… how do you always know?”
“I’m a detective, baby,” I said, airily, trying to lighten the mood. “Reading broads is one of my powers. Let’s me get them skivvies off in a friggin’ hurry.”
She laughed and slapped my arm, “You’re such an asshole!”
“What’s your point?”
“I wish it was easier… but things just aren’t so simple,” she replied softly.
“I’m pretty sure somebody is gonna engrave that on my headstone. Here lies good ole Jarvis… it were fun but it sure the sweet living Christ weren’t simple.”
She shook her head, “Eat your sandwich, it’s getting cold.”
“It’s a turkey sangwich… it started out cold.”
“It’s getting hot then.”
“Te loca.”
She sighed and gently touched my face, “I must be crazy.”
“So the long and short of it,” I said between bites, “is that it’s okay to treat the hot blonde like two hundred acres of wheat, right?”
“What?”
I grinned, “Y’know, plow her till the sun go down.”
“I hate you!” She chortled.
I laughed, “I know you do, muffin ass, I know you do.”
Chapter 30
I carried my plate and beer aft to the large open staging area on the main deck. There I found Santino and Conklin drilling Juan and Umberto on the use of the M4. I was also surprised to see Andrea leaning against the railing a few feet away watching intently.
“You guys on a snipe hunt?” I asked.
“Just brushing the dust off the army boys,” Conklin said with a grin. He turned to the two men. “See? I told you Scott was officer material. Only officers can stand around eating and drinking while others do the real work.”
“That’s right, Gomer,” I replied, slowly and languorously taking a large bite out of my sandwich. I made exaggerated yummy sounds. “My job is to watch while all you less important guys do Army stuff n’junk. Speaking of which… Cadet Gonzalez, please take your place on the training line.”
“How come you’re not being drilled?” Lisa asked.
“I’m sure I will be,” I said.
“Count on it,” Andrea said with a small chuckle almost quiet enough not to be heard.
I saw Lisa give her a look. The blonde only smiled and gave her a thumbs up.
“This is just a little refresher,” Santino explained, “We know that both you gents as well as the young lady are firearms trained. We just want to make sure. No offense intended.”
“We know,” Juan said with a good-natured smile, “It’s just that teasing Scott is… Divertido… amusing.”
“That’s true,” Lisa piped up.
“Oh yeah, smart girl?” I asked, “Then explain to me the steps required to take immediate action on your weapon.”
Uhm…” Lisa said. “Guess I’m rusty… I forget that one…”
“Sir! I know the acronym, sir!” Juan declared
“All right, private,” Santino said with a grin. “Please explain immediate action to your fellow Marines.”
“We’re Marines now?” Lisa asked.
“Why not,” Conklin said. “Go big or go home, babe.”
Umberto was smiling and looking eagerly toward Juan. I suspected he already knew this one, or the Spanish equivalent anyway.
Juan smiled, “SPORTS is an acronym for the procedure to perform immediate action should the weapon fail to fire properly. You slap the magazine, pull back the charging handle, observe the ejection port, release the charging handle, tap the forward assist and shoot.”
“That’s right,” Santino said. “Good work, recruit.”
“I knew that,” Lisa said with a wry grin.
“Not bad for a couple of Gomers,” I quipped.
“Oh, and what are you then?” Conklin asked.
“As much as I love and admire the Marines,” I said haughtily. “I think I prefer to be a SEAL. Cuz’ they’re the army guys who go on boats and stuff.”
That got a chuckle from the group, as expected.
“So what is our plan of attack, Skipper?” Santino asked.
“I don’t know yet,” I said. “At least not the fine details. The goal here is extraction. I don’t want to make a direct frontal assault. That’s just dumb, six against maybe a hundred or more. I’d like to slip in and slip out with our two objectives without firing a shot.”
“The Sigs are silenced,” Conklin said. “That at least lets us take out tangos as needed without causing a scene.”
I nodded, “However, as I’m sure our Marines and Army trained personnel know, most plans don’t survive the battle. So I’m going to break us into two units. One to retrieve and one to provide fire support and distraction. Should it become necessary, that team will allow the extraction team to get in undetected and out the same, I hope. Once Clay is located and armed, that gives that team an extra trained man.”
“But they’ll also have the boy,” Umberto said.
“Right,” I added. “Protecting Declan is top priority. Now, I don’t have an exact plan yet, but from studying that sat photo, my idea is to put teams ashore below and above the base along the river. That way they’ll go in from opposite angles. The trouble here is that we’re taking the mini in the last few miles, so we’re going to be feet wet. Wish we had some utilities…”
“Got em’,” Conklin said. “Full sets of Marine Corps Utilities. The modern BDU.”
I eyed him with admiration, “You’ve thought of a lot, here, Charles.”
He shrugged and pulled up his left sleeve where a tattoo showed. It was a winged skull wearing a diving regulator with a pair of crossed oars behind it, “Force Recon, sir.”
I chuckled, “Great, I think we’re in good shape. Also, the extraction will be down river a bit, so again we’ll have to swim.”
“Not necessarily,” Brody said. He’d come out onto the after deck a minute or two before. “We’ve got several small self-inflating rubber rafts that hold four men. Paddles included. We should be able to get at least one in the lockout. Maybe two.”
I sighed, “Look, guys… this is a dangerous mission. We’re going up against an enemy that has a huge advantage in numbers and position. Some of us could get hurt or killed. If anybody wants to back out, please say something. Nobody will hold it against you. I have to do this, but none of you do.”
All five of them: Santino, Conklin, Lisa, Juan and Umberto lined up in front of me and came to attention, or at least some semblance of it. It was gratifying and at the same time, left a cold knot of worry festering in my guts.
Which one of my friends would be hurt tonight? Which one might not come back? Which one would I trade for another of my friends? I suddenly felt the weight of command descend on me and it was a heavy burden indeed.
“Not easy being the skipper, is it?” Conklin asked, as if he’d read my mind.
I smiled thinly, “No. If I had my way… but what’s done is done. I want to thank you all. Words can’t express how proud I am to know all of you.”
I got a chorus of hoo-rahs. I wondered if the Marines had taught them that.
“Okay, okay,” I said more casually. “The idea is to launch the mini by two bells in the morning watch. That’s 0500 or five a.m. for you civvies. Let’s all get some rack time right after supper. I think we’re gonna need it. We’ll do a final briefing and bounce ideas around once aboard the Rodney Fox.”
I woke at a little before 0430. I could tell by the sound of the low rumble of the engines that the ship was moving and moving quickly. We must already be well up the San Juan by then.
I slipped into the BDU’s and boots that Conklin had provided and quietly made my way out into the corridor. Not that it was difficult to be quiet, the hallway was carpeted in deep pile that was well over an inch thick.
I yawned and thought about going up to the galley for coffee, but I was already too mentally keyed up not to want to go forward and inspect things. Maybe I really was the skipper after all.
“Mornin’,” one of Santino’s guys said. I thought his name might be Tony or Tommy… or Vito. He was standing at the door to the engine room, leaning against the bulkhead with his hands clasped over his groin.
“Any monkey business?” I asked.
He waved his hand dismissively, “Nope. Everythin’s been quiet as a fuckin’ morgue, ovuh heyuh.”
Charming.
I grinned and walked through the engine room. Although the space was large and the two massive diesels sat to either side, it wasn’t so loud even at high speed that a conversation at a relatively normal tone couldn’t be conducted. Pretty impressive.
I exited through the other heavy door and back into the corridor. This one was covered only by indoor outdoor carpet, although of a high quality. I made my way past the two bunkrooms and entered a special code into the door at the end that I’d been given.
A green light lit on the control panel and an electric servo began to whine. The large dogging wheel on the watertight door spun several times and there was an audible pop as the seal was broken and I pushed the door inward and stepped into the submersible hangar.
Charles Conklin was already there, standing amidst two crates and picking through them.
Without even looking up he said: “Good morning, Scott. There’s a thermos of coffee on the workbench over there. Help yourself.”
“How’d you know it was me?” I asked as I poured the coffee into one of the mugs he’d brought.
“Who else would show up early to check things over,” He replied, looking up and grinning.
“Going over our goodies?” I asked.
He nodded, “Exactly. Those BDU’s look good on you… I’m surprised you never went into the service. You know a lot of what we were trained on.”
I sipped the strong coffee and shrugged, “I thought about it. Always wanted to join the Navy. Figured I’d be a fighter pilot / hotshot JAG lawyer… but I guess fate had other ideas and I went into the police academy instead.”
He nodded, “That thing with your girlfriend… Tanya was her name? Well, still… you’ve got a lot of military knowledge for a civvy.”
I chuckled, “Partly thanks to Clay. And it’s always been an interest of mine. So what’s our load out?”
Conklin handed me a chest rig. The rig was a mesh and nylon system that went over the shoulders and around the back. It allowed for the storage of all sorts of useful goodies on the chest for easy access during combat.
“four thirty round mags of five-fifty-six, four of 9mm, two flash, smoke and fragmentation grenades,” Conklin explained. “Our main weapon is an M4 with a thermal scope. We may not need that, but it’s an option we can take off or leave on. I figured thermal is better because we’re all getting a night vision monocular, too.”
“Good,” I said, “I brought two but they are now in the hands of our enemy. Something to think about.”
He nodded, “Yeah… Also, the Sig Sauer 9mm is the same P226 we used a few months back. They’re silenced and not scoped. I’ve got scopes for them, if you recall… but that makes them bulkier.”
“Agreed.”
“Finally,” He said, holding up a small device th
at resembled an ear bud. “Earwig comm units. Very small and they use bone conducting mics. Much less cumbersome than standard earphone coms. They operate on a scrambled freq so we don’t have to alter channels.”
“Jesus, Charles… where’d you get all of this?” I asked. I was impressed and more than a little curious. “This is all current military tech. How’d you get your hands on it?”
“I have my contacts,” he said with a wry grin. “I’m a mercenary now, Scott. I’ve worked with more than one alphabet agency over the last few years. I’ve also made quite a few black-market contacts, too. You’d be surprised what you can get your hands on.”
I shook my head, “A long way from that NASA engineer I was tasked to find back in 2017… one of these days, we need to split a case of beer and you’re gonna have to tell me some of your sea stories.”
He grinned, “Well… I could tell ya’…”
“But then you’d have to kill me.”
“Well, maybe not kill but wound.”
I laughed, “Okay, but not in the face. That’s my money maker.”
“I thought your money maker was a little further down,” Came Lisa’s sleepy voice. She stepped through the hatch and yawned.
I grinned, placed a hand on my left hip and thrust it out, “you know where the dollars go.”
Charles whistled, “Now she looks good in those utilities.”
Lisa smiled, “Getting ready to arm us?”
Charles nodded. He and I squatted down and started putting the chest rigs together. Within minutes, Juan, Santino and Umberto trickled in, all dressed for combat.
“I have to say,” Santino said as he sipped his own mug of coffee. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen a fire team that looked quite like this.”
Conklin chuckled and shook his head, “You mean this sexy?”
Lisa smiled but I stepped in front of her, “Nah… every team I’m on is sizlin’!”
Lisa punched me in the arm and we all shared a laugh. That was good. Joking around and ball busting was an important part of unit cohesion. It developed a closeness that made it easier to fight both with and for one another.