“No can do, Tower. I’m going after these guys.” The MiGs whizzed passed in a game of chicken Zach had no intention of losing. He turned the plane in a split S and went in pursuit.
“That’s an order, Renegade.”
“Backup?” he asked Steve.
“ETA, two minutes on those Hornets.”
“Screw the Hornets. And screw the captain’s orders….”
He’d paid for that decision. And all the ones that followed. But until now he hadn’t realized the true price. He’d missed eyeballing the chutes.
Skeeter was dead.
But what about Michelle? It only took one pull of the cord to jettison them both. Either Skeeter had pulled that cord, or Michelle had. Skeeter’s injuries were evidence of what could go wrong during an emergency ejection. Zach chose to focus on what could go right.
Lieutenant Dann’s official classification—missing in action, presumed dead—suddenly took on new meaning.
Presumed was a hell of a word.
Hope mingled with gut-wrenching fear.
Alive or dead, she was somewhere in Iraq.
Lost in mind-numbing self-pity, he’d wasted too much time already.
Holding the mask to his nose and mouth, he looked up and met the admiral’s gaze from across the room. Both his father and godfather had strange expressions on their faces. As if seeing for the first time what had been there all along.
He and Michelle had been lovers.
Albeit young lovers. And only that one time…
“I’m going after her,” Zach announced. He turned and left the viewing room.
“Zach!” Admiral Dann called him back.
Zach spun on his heel to face a man who right now looked every one of his sixty-some years.
“You go off half-cocked and you’ll get yourself killed! For the past month my teams have been scouring the Middle East for some shred of evidence that these two were still alive. They found a grave. They found a body. Sara Daniels is dead. I want to believe Michelle is alive as much as you do. I’m not going to give up on my own flesh and blood.”
“They ejected from the plane, Mitch! That’s all the evidence I need. Michelle is my wingman. My responsibility. And somehow I forgot the most important credo of naval aviation. Never leave your wingman.”
“Son.” His dad jumped headlong into the emotionally charged shouting match. “You were outnumbered. Do you think anyone here blames you for not seeing those chutes?”
“I don’t know. Ask Michelle. Ask Sara.”
Closing his eyes against the pain, Zach turned from his father and godfather. He plowed a hand through his short military cut and counted to ten before opening his eyes again. “I’m not going to wait another day for someone to bring her home in a body bag. If she’s out there, alive or dead, I’ll find her and bring her back myself. That’s not a promise, that’s a fact.”
He met and held his godfather’s gaze, felt his father and the coroner looking at him with pity, felt the burning behind his eyes.
Big boys didn’t cry.
They didn’t make little girls cry, either. And they sure as hell didn’t leave them to die alone.
Zach stormed from the room.
His mother and Mrs. Dann looked up expectantly. Both his father and the admiral followed him to the door. But he kept walking.
“Zach,” the admiral called him back once again.
Frustrated by the power play, Zach stopped, but didn’t turn around.
“Anytime, day or night and in less than four hours, I can mobilize an entire SEAL team. As soon as this situation has been evaluated, I’ll be on it.”
Zach did turn around then. “Let me be on that team,” he begged. He’d get down on his knees if he had to. His godfather had to see how important this was to him.
“Mitch?” Augusta Dann touched her husband’s uniform sleeve. The admiral turned his attention to his wife. “It isn’t her,” he said in a gentle voice.
“Thank God.” Augusta began to sob. “Oh, that poor girl. Her parents…” Her hand went to her throat. “What about our daughter, Mitch? Is she alive?”
“We don’t know, Gus.”
“But your mobilizing a team? And, Zach—” she turned to look at him “—was leaving in a hurry.” She addressed him directly, “You think she’s alive. You’re going after her.”
It wasn’t a question, but a statement.
“Zach is not going after anyone.” Admiral Dann narrowed his gaze on Zach. “He’s coming with me. And that’s an order.”
CHAPTER FIVE
0800 Saturday
Washington, D.C.
THE ADMIRAL’S LIMO driver navigated the streets of the nation’s capital until they reached the belt-way, then headed south out of the city. Zach continued to stare out the tinted window as Washington monuments gave way to lush green Virginia countryside.
Sitting across from him, his godfather rode in equally brooding silence. But Zach still wasn’t ready to forgive him for pulling rank. If the only way out of this situation was to resign his commission and become a civilian, he’d do it in a heartbeat.
And if he wasn’t trapped inside this damn moving monstrosity he’d do it right now. In fact, he would do it right now.
Zach automatically checked for the scratch pad he wore strapped to his knee while in the cockpit. In his jet he’d always been prepared for any emergency. That didn’t seem to be the case these days. “Do you have paper in this car?”
The admiral ripped a piece from the notepad in his Daytimer and handed it to Zach. Then he said, “I don’t know why I didn’t see it coming. You’re adults. You spend time together. You share common interests. I shouldn’t be surprised there was something more to it, but I am.” The admiral shook his head. “It makes me feel oceans apart from my little girl. And I mean farther than the Arabian Sea. She never once mentioned the two of you were anything more than friends.”
The man had thrown him a curveball, and Zach forgot all about writing his resignation. Instead, he took the next at bat. After all, that was what they were really doing in this car, waiting out the silence until one of them opened the lines of communication.
“We were just friends.”
At least that’s all they’d been for a very long time. Even if he’d wanted more.
And if she cared about him at all, wouldn’t that have come across in conversations with her parents? The admiral wasn’t the only one who felt that ever-widening gap.
A moot point. Their relationship, past or present, took a back seat to finding her alive and bringing her home.
“I have eyes, Zach. Don’t try and pull the wool over them. You’ve been intimate with my daughter. And as a father, I’m not sure I like that.”
“It was a long time ago. We were just kids.”
“That I don’t need to hear,” the admiral growled. “This conversation is as awkward for me as it is for you. The thing is, Michelle and I used to be very close. We’d drifted apart over the past year. And if anything’s happened to her, I’d at least like to think I knew my own daughter.”
The admiral paused to collect his thoughts. “She was struggling with a difficult career decision. Being the father I am, I offered my advice until she was sick of hearing it. I even suggested it was time she settled down. Of course, it came across as just another lecture from the old man and we’d wind up arguing.” He looked at Zach. “Ever talk marriage? Kids? Make plans for the future?”
“Not really.”
The admiral nodded. “Do you love her, Zach?”
An honest question deserved an honest answer. At least Zach could look him in the eye when he said it. “Yes, sir. I do.”
“Does she love you?”
That one was harder to answer. “I don’t know.”
“Well, why don’t you know?”
I don’t know.
They lapsed back into silence, more comfortable than the honesty. Neither had accepted that Michelle might not have a future. Zach’s gaze shifted
to the window, but he didn’t focus, and the trees and foliage passed by in a blur of green.
“Your BUD/S training starts Monday,” the admiral said several minutes later.
Safer topic.
“I appreciate the opportunity.”
“Like hell you do.” The admiral softened the recrimination with a sad smile. “You’re just going through the motions. You gotta want it, Zach, for it to mean anything at all. Otherwise it’s too easy to give up. That girl loved to fly. You both did. I was surprised you gave up on jets as easily as you did.”
“You’re disappointed I quit.”
“You didn’t quit, Zach. You gave up. I can respect a quitter.”
So the admiral didn’t respect him. “Captain Greene’s a good man, Zach. He knew you were in shock when he hauled your ass out of the gulf. Hell, he didn’t even press charges after you’d knocked his teeth loose. Just let you cool off your hot head in the brig. But you defied him every step of the way. If you’d have done your time in rehab, we wouldn’t be having this conversation right now. I wonder if you have what it takes to make it through SEAL training.”
The admiral was right on. What could Zach say?
I don’t plan on being around come Monday?
The admiral checked his watch. “Right about now Team One is debriefing on this latest recon mission. Navy Intel will analyze and strategize, and my boys will be back out there to follow up on any new leads. I’m considering postponing your BUD/S training in favor of a little on-job training by letting you ride along with Team One to the Middle East.”
Zach sat up straighter.
“Considering it,” Admiral Dann cautioned. “I know you want to find Michelle as much as I do. Cool your heels. Stick around town. Wait for cooler heads to prevail. In other words, follow the rules for once. And I might give you that chance. In return I want your total commitment to SEAL training when you get back.” He handed Zach a beeper. “Keep this with you 24/7.”
“You won’t regret it.”
“I’d better not.”
The limo merged right and slowed as the driver took the off-ramp.
“Where are we headed?” Zach asked. He hadn’t given that much thought to their destination.
“To the Daniels family to break the news of their daughter’s death.”
That caught Zach off guard. “I thought the chaplain was handling that.” The admiral had made arrangements with the chaplain’s office while at the hospital.
“The chaplain’s meeting us there. You were her squad leader, Zach. It’s an unpleasant but necessary duty to show them this respect. They’ll have questions. Want answers. Want to know about shipboard life. Flying.” He met Zach’s gaze. “Details concerning your engagement with the MiGs are still classified. So steer clear. That shouldn’t be too hard to do if you keep it personal.”
But the admiral hadn’t warned him how hard personal would get. They’d pulled into the drive at the Danielses’ home the same time the chaplain did. Mrs. Daniels met them at the door before they were even out of the cars. By the time they hit the front-porch steps, tears were forming in her eyes. They stepped onto the porch and she began to sob. The sobbing continued out of control.
They hadn’t yet said a word.
At the first sight of official-looking cars and three uniformed naval officers, Mrs. Daniels knew that her daughter, Sara, was dead.
It was Mr. Daniels who ushered them inside. Giving his wife time to collect herself, he served iced tea. Mrs. Daniels joined them again a few minutes later. Their son, a high-school senior, arrived home from his Saturday job at a garage.
A nice middle-class American home with a nice middle-class American family. And their daughter didn’t deserve to die.
Zach spent the rest of the morning singing Skeeter’s praises. And wishing he’d gotten to know her just a little bit better, so he didn’t have to fake so many of the answers. He gave the watered down version of their engagement with the enemy fighters, using all the appropriate language to help Sara’s grieving family.
“Your daughter died honorably in the line of duty. Her courage and sacrifice are recognized by a grateful nation.”
They wanted to know the little things, like what she ate for breakfast. And did the ship really run out of milk? Did she eat her cereal dry? Or with powdered milk? Because she’d never liked powdered milk. Never drank it at home.
He remembered Skeeter pushing away her cereal that day. Because of him. Letting them think she’d had a healthy breakfast seemed the humane thing to do. So he didn’t tell them she hadn’t eaten. Or that she’d never liked him. Or that he could barely stand to be in the same room with her—for no apparent reason other than the subject of Michelle always seemed to come between them.
Had she dated anyone that he knew of? A pilot perhaps? She’d never mentioned a boyfriend.
“Thank you for coming, Chaplain, Admiral…Lieutenant Prince.” Mr. Daniels shook their hands in turn, then walked them to the door.
At the door Mrs. Daniels held on to both of Zach’s hands as if she didn’t want to let him go. “Thank you again for coming, Lieutenant. Sara always spoke so highly of you. She really admired the way you handled a jet.”
All morning he’d been fighting to keep down the lump in this throat. It just tripled in size.
“And, Admiral,” Mrs. Daniels continued, “I hope the news of your own daughter…” She couldn’t bring herself to finish the sentence. “Well, Sara just absolutely loved that girl. We’ll be praying for Michelle.”
1000 Monday
ARLINGTON NATIONAL CEMETERY,
Arlington, VA
FORTY-EIGHT HOURS LATER, Zach was graveside, paying his last respects to Lieutenant Junior Grade Sara Marie Daniels.
Shots rang out in tribute to the fallen navigator.
Uniformed and civilian mourners were gathered around the freshly dug grave site, crowding under black umbrellas. The bleak drizzle matched the mood. Zach let the rain wash over him.
Wash away his sins.
The honor guard folded the flag into a neat triangle and presented it with a salute to the silently weeping Mrs. Daniels, husband and son by her side.
As the Navy chaplain intoned the final benediction, “Ashes to ashes, dust to dust…” Zach’s attention shifted to Admiral and Mrs. Dann. Every emotion crossing the Danielses’ faces was mirrored in their faces.
And Zach knew exactly how they felt.
He didn’t want to be standing here again.
Zach heard the jet engines just before the planes broke through the clouds. Four F/A-18 Hornets from their ship’s Air Wing zoomed by overhead. The lag jet banked and dropped out of formation.
Missing Man.
A tribute to Sara.
But the real missing “man” was Michelle.
The visual hit Zach right in the solar plexus.
“You want to go get a beer at the Officers’ Club?” Steve Marietta, his old RIO, came up and put his arm around Zach’s shoulder. “I told the guys we’d meet ’em there.” Steve nodded toward the sky, indicating the pilots of the Hornets. His old running mates.
God, that seemed like a lifetime ago.
“A little early to be drinking,” Zach hedged. He really wanted this drink. “Sure, why the hell not.”
They drove to Andrews Air Force Base in Steve’s rental car. Zach hadn’t bothered with transportation. He didn’t plan on hanging around long enough. They parked outside the Officers’ Club and went inside. This early in the day the lights were up. Some country-and-western singer crooned her latest hit from the jukebox in the corner. Cue balls and beer bottles clinked out their own brand of music.
There were a few casual drinkers in the place.
Mostly Air Force, but a few other branches. No “loose” women. Not even a female officer. Not like the bars back home.
There was the usual good-natured ribbing when they walked in with their Navy uniforms on.
“You know why Navy pilots have to take off and land
on boats?” some smart-ass shouted from across the room. Then answered it himself. “Because they can’t fly fast enough or far enough.”
“Yeah, well, that’s not what your sister said when I was stoking her burners,” Steve shot back.
“Steve, he’s going to come over here and kick your ass. And I’m going to let him,” Zach warned.
But the guy didn’t do anything.
“Just a bunch of wussies. My kind of place,” Steve said loud enough for their audience to hear. He cracked his knuckles.
Zach shook his head. “Why don’t you just mark your territory, Steve?”
“I think I will. Order up two beers, will ya? I gotta check out the head.”
Zach sat down at the bar. “Two beers. A round of your best scotch for the room. And a full bottle right here.”
“Who died?” the bartender asked, wiping down the bar and setting out two napkins for coasters.
“Skeeter Daniels. My wingman’s RIO. Shot down over Iraq.”
With the rag in his hand the bartender pointed at Zach. “You’re that Navy hotshot, aren’t you. I heard you took on three MiGs in a Tomcat. Then landed your crippled jet on the deck of an aircraft carrier with nothing but fumes in the tank.” The bartender reached into a refrigerator under the bar and set down two bottles of beer.
“Flew jets myself in Vietnam. On the house, Ace.”
Zach looked down at the beer in his hand. He’d had seven kills. Two more than he needed for Ace. Few pilots reached that distinction in their careers. But the guy had the story all wrong. “That’s just the fairy-tale version. I ditched the plane in the ocean. It ran out of gas. They don’t give you any medals for that.”
“Yeah, but the part about the three MiGs is right, isn’t it?”
Zach nodded.
“Coming right up on the rest of those drinks.” The bartender left him alone with his thoughts and his beer. Zach pushed the bottle aside without taking a drink.
He and Steve had been pulled out of the water several hours later—after the search and rescue for Rapunzel and Skeeter was well under way. The first SEAL recon team dispatched to the crash site reported that the Tomcat had disintegrated on impact.
No recoverable munitions.
Sign, SEAL, Deliver Page 8