Seal Team Ten

by Brockmann, Suzanne

  The sound was boomy and Frisco knew Bell had switched to a speaker phone. "I'm here," he said. "Are you all right? Is Tash with you?"

  Lucky appeared silently outside Joe Cat's car window. As Frisco glanced at him, he pointed to his own cellular phone and signaled a thumbs-up.

  Harvard had gotten the trace. They had a location.

  "Yes," Mia was saying. "Listen, Alan. My parents have money. Go to them. Remember I told you they live near the country club in Harper?"

  No, she'd told him her parents lived in Malibu.

  "Just be careful of my dad—he's a little nuts, with all those guns he has in his collection, and his two body­guards."

  Harper. Guns. Two bodyguards. Damn, she had the presence of mind to tell him where they were and how many men there were guarding them.

  "That's enough," Bell cut in.

  "My parents have the money you want," Frisco heard Mia say sharply. "How is Alan going to get it if I don't tell him where to go?"

  "I have the address," Frisco told her. "I'll take care of the money, you take care of Tasha. Tash—are you okay?"

  "I wanna go home." Natasha's voice was wobbly.

  "She doesn't have her medicine, so if her temperature goes up again, put her in the bathtub and cool her down. Do you understand?" Frisco said to Mia as quickly as he could. "Stay with her in the bathroom. And talk to her so she's not scared. You know how she gets when it's too quiet. I know she's too little to listen to the sounds of the night the way I can."

  Man, he hoped she understood. If Mia and Tasha kept talking, the SEALs would be able to use high-tech, high-powered microphones to help pinpoint their location inside of the house. Frisco would need that information before he could figure out the best way to launch their attack against Bell and his men.

  "Mia, I'll get that money soon. Right now, in fact, all right?"

  "All right. Alan, be careful." Her voice shook slightly. "I love you."

  "Mia, I-"

  The line went dead. Frisco clicked off the telephone, cursing Dwayne Bell, cursing himself. But what, exactly, had he intended to say?

  I love you, too.

  God, the words had been right on the tip of his tongue. Forget about the fact that Cat and Lucky and Blue were lis­tening in. Forget about the fact that a relationship with him was the last thing Mia needed.

  But if after all he'd said and done she could still love him... No, she didn't need a relationship with him, but maybe, just maybe she wanted it.

  God knows he did, despite the fact that he may well have burned his bridges with the awful things he'd said to her. Burned? Damn, he'd bombed the hell put of them.

  Still, she'd told him that she loved him.

  "We got it—273 Barter Street in Harper," Lucky leaned in the window to say. "Harvard's faxing a map and leaving Thomas at headquarters to relay any other calls. He and the test of the squad will meet us over there."

  Frisco nodded, hope flooding through him as he turned to Joe Cat. "Let's move."

  Mia's stomach hurt as one of Dwayne Bell's cohorts fol­lowed her and Natasha back up the stairs.

  Take care of Tasha, Frisco had told her. He'd given her as much carefully disguised information in his message as she'd tried to give him. Stay with her in the bathroom. Put her in the bathtub. If bullets started to fly, bullets like the ones that could be fired from Dwayne's enormous gun, bullets that could pass through walls and still have enough force to kill, then the bathtub, with its hard enamel, would be the safest place.

  He'd told her to talk to Tasha. Why? Talk to her so she's not scared. Why would he want them to talk? It didn't make sense. But it didn't have to make sense. He'd asked—she'd do it.

  Right now, Frisco had said. / have the address. Mia knew without a doubt that he was on his way. Somehow he'd found them. He'd be here soon.

  She stopped in front of the open bathroom door, turning to look back at the man with the gun. "We need to use the bathroom."

  He nodded. "Go ahead. Don't lock the door."

  Mia drew Tasha inside the tiny room, closing the door behind her, taking a quick inventory.

  Pedestal sink, grimy tub with a mildewed shower cur­tain, a less-than-pristine-looking toilet.

  The window was tiny and sealed shut, the same as the window in the bedroom.

  There was a narrow linen closet that held a few paper-wrapped rolls of toilet paper and several tired-looking washcloths and towels.

  Mia took one of the washcloths from the closet and turned on the warm water in the sink, holding the small square of terry cloth underneath. "Okay, Tash," she said. "We're going to try to fool Dwayne and his friends into thinking that you're really sick, and that you might throw up, okay?"

  The little girl nodded, her eyes wide.

  "I need you to take a deep breath and hold it in for as long as you can—until your face turns really red, all right?"

  Tasha nodded again, drawing in a big breath as Mia wrung out the washcloth.

  "Now, this is going to be warm against your face, but we want you to feel kind of warm and sweaty so Dwayne will believe you've got a fever, okay?"

  The little girl stood staunchly as Mia pressed the warm cloth against her forehead and cheeks. By the time Tasha exhaled, she was flushed and quite believably clammy.

  "Can I get a drink?" she asked, turning on the cold wa­ter.

  "Sure," Mia said. "But remember to look sick, okay?" She waited until Tash was done at the sink before she opened the bathroom door. "Excuse me. I think we better stay in here. Tasha's got a fever and—"

  Behind her came the awful sound of retching, and Mia turned to see Tasha leaning over the toilet, liquid gushing from her mouth.

  "Oh, hell!" the man with the gun said in disgust, back­ing away and closing the bathroom door.

  "Natasha," Mia started to say, alarmed.

  But Tasha turned to look at Mia with a wicked light in her eyes. "I put lots of water in my mouth and spit it out," she whispered. "Do you think we fooled him?"

  There was a sound from outside the door, and Mia opened it a crack. It was the man with the gun.

  "I'm putting a bolt on the outside of this door," he said gruffly. "You're gonna have to stay in here. Dwayne don't want no mess. Can I get the kid some blankets or some-thing?"

  Mia nodded. "Blankets would be great."

  She closed the door and turned back to Natasha, giving the little girl a big thumbs-up.

  Now she had to keep talking. For some reason, Frisco wanted her to keep talking.

  And she prayed that after this was all over, he'd still be alive to explain exactly why.

  Chapter 17

  “I've got something," Harvard said, fine-tuning the di­als of the ultrasensitive microphone that was aimed at the Barker Street house. "Sounds like a woman and a kid sing­ing—I think it's 'The Alphabet Song.'"

  He held out his padded earphones and Frisco slipped them on, staring out the darkened glass window in the side of Harvard's van at the house they were watching.

  It was them. It had to be them. And then the song ended, and he heard Tash speak.

  "Mia, why are we sitting in the bathtub?"

  "Because your uncle thought we'd be safest here."

  " 'Cause Dwayne wants to make us dead, like he did to Thomas?"

  "Honey, Frisco's not going to let that happen."

  "Because he loves us?" the child asked.

  Mia hesitated. "Yes," she finally said. "Because he loves... us."

  Frisco knew she didn't believe what she was telling Tash. And why should Mia think he loved her after the terrible things he'd said? The thought of it made his chest ache. He handed the headphones back to Harvard. "It's them. Chief," he said. "Can you pinpoint their location?"

  "Back of the house," Harvard told him, turning his di­als. "I’ve got a TV up much too loud in the front of the house, along with sounds of someone eating."

  Frisco nodded. That was a start. He'd have a better idea of Mia and Tash's exact location after Blue, C
owboy and Lucky checked in from their sneak and peek. In the early hours of the dusk, the three SEALs were checking over the yard and exterior of the house, looking for alarms or booby traps—anything that would tip Bell off as to their presence.

  And Wes and Bobby were scanning with an infrared de­vice that would help place the locations of Mia and Tash and their kidnappers. Bell and two others—that's what Mia had managed to tell him. All armed.

  Three lowlifes against eight SEALs. There was no way the SEALs could lose.

  Except for the fact that Frisco was determined that the SEALs would not open fire. Not with Mia and Tasha in the house, even despite the fact that they were protected by the bathtub. Because God help him if something went wrong and one of the two people he loved most in all of the world wound up in the cross fire.

  No, they were going to have to do this by stealth—which currently was not one of his strengths. There was no way in hell he could climb up the side of the house silently.

  "Hey! I found an extra headset and vest in the back of my jeep." Joe Catalanotto climbed into the van, tossing both in Frisco's direction.

  "Man, do you know how long it's been since I’ve worn one of these?" Frisco asked, holding up the vest and light­weight headphones.

  Cat nodded. "Yeah," he said. "I do know. Put 'em on. Blue and Lucky are starting to report in. You're gonna want to hear what they're saying."

  Frisco slipped on the black combat vest. It was a newer version of the heavy-duty vest he'd damn near worn out during his five years as a SEAL. It was made from lighter fabric than his old vest and was more comfortable.

  It felt good. He slipped on the headset and adjusted the lip microphone, plugging the wire into the radio unit in the vest. He adjusted the frequency and—

  "... ly nothing in the yard." It was Blue McCoy, speak­ing in a low voice. "No extra alarms or movement sen­sors—nothing. The alarm on the house is Mickey Mouse-Lucky already overrode it. There's also a trellis in the back—if s perfectly placed, like an engraved invitation to the second floor.

  "I'm already up there." This was Cowboy's voice. "Windows seem tight. But there's a third floor—probably an attic. Windows there look good and loose. Easy ac­cess."

  "I got movement on the infrared," Bobby's deep voice reported. "Two ape still stationary on the second floor, and three are downstairs, in the front of the structure, although one is moving now toward the back."

  "That's Cliff," Harvard reported. "He just told his homeboy Ramon that he's going into the kitchen to get more salsa for his corn chips. They're watching something on an adults-only channel. Not much dialogue but lots of cheesy music."

  Blue's voice again. "The house has seven rooms down­stairs. A living room in the southeast corner. A dining room to the immediate west, and a kitchen and some kind of rec room stretches along the entire back of the house."

  Frisco grabbed paper and pen and sketched a rough floor plan as Blue continued to describe the layout, and the lo­cation of all doors and windows.

  "Cat, you want me to insert through the attic?" Cowboy asked.

  "It's Frisco's show," Cat replied, turning to look at him.

  Frisco looked up from his drawing and shook his head. "Not yet. Report back to the van," he said, speaking into his mike for the first time in five years. "Everyone but Bobby. I want you to stay on the infrared, Bob. I need to be dead sure that Mia and Tash aren't moved from that up­stairs room."

  "You got it," Bobby replied.

  It only took a few minutes for the rest of Alpha Squad to appear from the shadows and gloom of the early evening.

  Frisco's plan was simple.

  "I want Cat and Lucky to go in through the attic win­dows and work their way down to the second floor where Mia and Tash are held. The rest of us will make a silent en­try through this back door." He pointed down to his draw­ing. "Except for Bobby, who's going to stay glued to the infrared and Harvard who's gonna keep listening in."

  "Bor-ring," Bob's voice sounded over their headsets from somewhere out in the yard.

  "Someone's got to do it," Joe Cat told him.

  "Yeah, but why me? I mean, come on, a damn paraple­gic in a wheelchair could handle this job—"

  There was a sudden silence in the van. Nobody looked at Frisco or his crutches. Nobody so much as moved.

  Bobby realized what he'd said and he swore softly.

  "Frisco, man—I didn't mean that the way it soundedI wasn't thinking."

  "As usual," Wes added.

  Frisco sat down, looking up at the uncomfortable ex­pression on the faces of his friends.

  "It makes sense for me to switch places with Bob," he said quietly. "Doesn't it?"

  Joe Catalanotto was the first to look up and into his eyes. "This isn't going to be a difficult operation," he said. He glanced over at Blue. "We figured—"

  And suddenly it was all clear to Frisco. "You figured you could let me play soldier one last time, huh?" he said, knowing that he spoke the truth. "You figured you could baby-sit me, and the fact that I can't run and can barely walk without crutches wouldn't put the squad in that much danger."

  Cat respected him enough not to try to lie. But he couldn't bring himself to agree, either. So instead, he said nothing. But the answer was written plainly on his face.

  "But still, my being there is going to put the squad in some danger," Frisco said.

  "It's nothing we can't handle—"

  "But if I’m not part of the team that goes in the back door, the chances of a snafu happening decreases."

  “It’s not that big a deal—"

  Frisco pulled himself to his feet. "Bob, when we get ready to go, I'll switch with you."

  Bob sounded as if he were in agony. "Frisco, I didn't mean to—"

  "You'll have to wait until I get out there, because I want eyes on that infrared scanner at all times."

  Lucky stepped forward. "Hey, buddy, we know how im­portant it is for you to go in there and—"

  "Working in a team means recognizing individual team members' strengths and weaknesses," Frisco told him evenly. "As much as I want to be the one to protect Mia and Natasha, I know I can't climb in the attic window. And the fact is, I have no business trying to sneak in that back door, either. I'll man the infrared." He took a deep breath. "Blue, you've got the point. You're in command once you're in­side the house." He knew he could trust Blue McCoy to make the right decisions to apprehend Dwayne and his two men with the least amount of gunplay. "Okay, let's get into position."

  One by one, the SEALs slipped out of the van, fading into the darkness of the night.

  Frisco turned to Joe Cat. "Don't move Mia and Tash downstairs until you receive an all clear."

  Cat nodded. "We'll wait for your signal."

  Frisco clumsily swung himself out of the van and started toward the shrubs at the edge of the yard where Bobby and the infrared scanner were hidden. But Joe Cat stopped him.

  "You know, it takes a real man to put others' welfare and safety before his own pride," Cat said.

  "Yeah, right. I'm one hell of a hero," Frisco said. "Ex­cuse me while I go hide in the bushes while the rest of you guys risk death to rescue my niece and my girlfriend."

  "We both know that what you just did was impossibly hard and incredibly heroic," Cat countered. "If that were Ronnie in that house, I'm not sure I would've been able to assign myself out of the action."

  "Yes, you would'ye," Frisco said quietly. "If you knew that putting yourself in the assault force would not only risk the lives of your men, but risk Ronnie's life..." He shook his head. "I had no choice. You would've had no choice, too."

  Joe Cat nodded. "Maybe." He paused. "I'd like to think so."

  "I'm counting on you to take care of Mia and Tash," Frisco said.

  "These guys aren't going to hear us coming. If we do this right, the risk is minimal."

  And doing it right meant that he wasn't in the way. Damn, as much as Frisco hated that, he knew it was true.

  "Hey,
you said it yourself. Working as a team means recognizing team members' strengths and weaknesses," Joe said as if he could read Frisco's mind. When Frisco would have nodded and turned away, Joe Cat stopped him again. "You can still be part of SEAL Team Ten, Lieutenant. God knows we need your strengths. I've got one hell of a short­age of dependable instructors and way too many raw re­cruits coming into the SEAL Teams to be able to teach 'em properly. You have a wealth of information to pass on to these kids. You could virtually have your pick of subjects to teach."

  Frisco was silent. Teach. Those who can, do. Those who can't, teach. Except, what was it that Mia had said? Those who are taught, do. Those who teach, shape the future.

  “And as for your weaknesses..." Joe Cat continued. "Do you remember the very end of Hell Week? You weren't in my boat team, but I know you probably heard the story. I was a half a day away from the end of the ordeal, and I got a stress fracture in my leg. Talk about pain. It was hell, but I wouldn't quit. I wasn't gonna quit after I'd come that far. But I was damn close to being taken out. One of the in­structors—a real bastard nicknamed Captain Blood—was about to call for the medics and have me removed."

  Frisco nodded. "I remember hearing that."

  "But then Blue and the other guys who were left in my boat team told Captain Blood that I was okay, that I could make it. In fact, they said I'd run a mile down the beach to prove it. And the captain looked at me and told me if I could run that mile, he'd let me stay in 'til the end.

  "There was no way in hell I could walk, let alone run, but Blue and the other guys picked me up, and they ran that mile carrying me."

  Frisco had heard that story. With their incredible show of unity and loyalty, Cat and Blue and the rest of their boat team were rewarded by having the hard-nosed instructor announce them secure nearly six hours before the official end of Hell Week. It was unprecedented.

  Joe Cat reached out and squeezed Frisco's shoulder. "Right now you're letting us carry you. But don't think there's no way you can carry us in return, my friend. Be­cause you can. By teaching those recruits who are going to back us up someday, you'd be shouldering more than your share."

  Frisco was silent. What could he say?