“You’re probably right,” Carlos agreed. “Having the right attitude is half the battle for these men when they’re going through rehab.”
“I assume you want to talk to the commander privately.”
Carlos nodded. “I think his wife is in there with him now.”
“I’ll see if I can convince her to go for a walk with me so you can have a few minutes alone with the commander.”
“I’d appreciate it.” Carlos reached for the door and hoped the commander was ready for what he needed him to do.
* * *
Kel’s first instinct when he saw Admiral Mantiquez walk into the room was to throw the covers off, push himself out of bed, and snap to attention. Realizing that his normal reaction would be out of place while lying wounded in a hospital, he instead sat up straighter and wondered what warranted a visit from an admiral and a senator.
His stomach clenched at the thought that his squad had been unsuccessful in Arizona, that somehow the terrorist attack had happened on US soil. Sensing his apprehension, the senator spoke first.
“I thought you’d like to know that your boys will be heading home tomorrow,” Jim told him.
“Everything’s okay?”
“Everything’s fine.” Jim nodded. He then motioned to Marilyn. “Admiral Mantiquez, this is the commander’s wife, Marilyn Bennett.”
“It’s a pleasure to meet you.” The admiral offered his hand as Marilyn stood up.
“You, too,” Marilyn said softly, looking from the admiral to her husband.
“Marilyn, why don’t we give these men a few minutes alone?” Jim motioned to the door.
“Okay,” Marilyn said hesitantly, again looking back at Kel.
“It’s okay, honey,” Kel assured her. “Why don’t you go down to the cafeteria and get some lunch.”
Marilyn nodded and moved through the door the senator now held open for her.
Kel spotted the personnel files and reached out a hand. “I assume those are the top candidates for my replacement.”
“They are.” Admiral Mantiquez nodded. “I’ve thought about it a lot, and I feel it would be best to let Lieutenant Miller take over the Saint Squad while you’re laid up.”
“I agree.” Kel nodded his approval, relieved that the man who would be taking over his command was someone he trusted implicitly. “Brent goes up before the promotion board in a couple of months. This will definitely help his chances, and I know he’ll do a great job.”
“I’m glad to hear that you have so much confidence in him.” He offered a stack of five files to Kel. “These are some of our better prospects to fill the empty spot in your squad for the time being. I’d like you to look over them and give me your recommendation.”
Kel looked down at the files, flipping the first one open. His eyes narrowed, and he opened the second one. Quickly glancing at the front page of all five files, he looked up at the admiral. “All of these are straight out of BUD/S training.”
“That’s right.” Admiral Mantiquez nodded. “They graduate the day after tomorrow.”
“Do you really think this is wise? Putting an unseasoned SEAL in with your best squad?”
“These candidates have a lot to offer, and your boys have a lot they can teach them.” Mantiquez nodded. He motioned to the files. “Since those are confidential, I’ll make sure the nurse provides you with a lock box. I want your recommendation by tomorrow.”
Kel simply nodded as the admiral turned and left the room.
7
“You said no one would be able to stop us.” Akil Ramir’s voice vibrated with fury as he stared out the penthouse window of the hotel-style building he had turned into his safe haven, his fortress. Slowly, the longtime arms dealer and self-proclaimed terrorist turned to face his second in command, Halim Karel. “What happened?”
“I don’t know yet,” Halim spoke tentatively. “I’m still trying to get in touch with my sources.”
Venom spewed from Akil as he hissed, “Find out.”
Halim gave a nod and a slight bow, backing up until the elevator doors were behind him. Without another word, the man disappeared from the room, and Akil continued to seethe with hatred and anger.
* * *
The five men might as well have been interchangeable. Kel studied the files, studied each man’s specialties. Two officers, three enlisted, all as green as they came. Not one of these men had any combat experience. Not one of them understood what real missions were like. Sure they had gone through BUD/S training, the basic underwater demolition course for SEALs. They could all swim five miles without much effort, they knew how to jump out of helicopters, and they could hotwire cars. They could fly airplanes or pilot boats. But could they be trusted?
Trust was essential. Without it, the SEALs would fail. How many times, he wondered, had he moved through a dark jungle and known where every one of his men was, even though he couldn’t see them? How many mornings had he prayed with them that the Lord would guide them through whatever obstacles they might face?
Kel thought of those morning prayers, a ritual they had started shortly after the Saint Squad was created. Now he looked through the files again with a renewed interest. Which of these men would acclimate to that aspect of his squad? None of them was LDS. He was sure he would have noticed that before, but what kind of men were they?
He thought back to when he first started out in the teams. He could remember all too clearly what it had been like being the only man in his unit who didn’t drink. He had always felt a bit like he was on the outside looking in, especially when the other men he worked with talked about their adventures together when they were on leave.
When Brent Miller had been assigned to Kel’s unit, things began to change. Finally, he had someone else who shared the same values. Now, for the past five years, he had become spoiled working within a squad that was so solid in their values and in their faith. The men he served with had become more than just co-workers or teammates. They were his brothers, his family. Whoever he recommended to fill the open spot was going to feel like a stepchild, and it was up to him to find the man who had the best chance of conforming to their squad’s high standards.
He noticed that one of the young officers was married and considered whether that might make the transition a bit easier, especially since Tristan was newly married. Kel read through the file once more, but when he read through the man’s specialties, he realized the fit wasn’t quite right. Communications was this man’s strong point, but Seth Johnson already filled that need within the Saint Squad.
The door opened, and he looked up to see his wife come into his room.
“Did Senator Whitmore leave?”
Marilyn nodded. “Yeah. He said he had to get back for a meeting, but I’m supposed to tell you that he’ll give you a call later.” She hesitated, stepping closer when Kel closed the file he held and set it on his lap with the others. She was quiet for a moment, as though working up her nerve to say something. “How long have you known the Whitmores?”
“I don’t know. About three years, I guess.”
“You never mentioned it before,” Marilyn said, a touch of sadness in her voice. “I never knew that Amy was Senator Whitmore’s daughter.”
“Really?” Kel looked at her, surprised. “I’m sorry, honey. I just assumed you knew.”
Marilyn’s voice turned defensive. “How would I know?”
“You were around when Amy first started working with us, before she was married to Brent.”
“Kel, you always referred to her as ‘Amy’ or your ‘civilian.’ You never said, ‘Amy Whitmore is working for me, and by the way, her dad’s a senator.’”
“Marilyn, I wasn’t trying to keep this from you. If you hadn’t been in Florida visiting your mom, you would have met the Whitmores at Brent and Amy’s wedding.” Kel reached for her, somewhat relieved when she let him take her hand. “Amy’s background has always been one of those common-knowledge things. It never occurred to me that you didn’t realize who s
he was.”
She let out a sigh but seemed to accept his answer. “What did the admiral want to see you about? Or can you tell me?”
Kel checked his normal response of refusing to talk about work, instead motioning to the files. “He wants me to select the man who will fill in for me with the Saint Squad.”
“You have to choose your own replacement?”
“He won’t really be my replacement,” Kel explained. “Brent Miller will take over command, but he’ll need someone to fill in for him until I come back.”
“I see.” Marilyn sat down and leaned back in her chair. “Have you decided who it should be?”
He shook his head. “No. I’ve eliminated one as a possibility, but the other four are pretty equal on paper. I think I’ll have to pray on it before I decide.”
“Really?” Marilyn looked at him with surprise and wonder in her eyes. “You would pray about something work related?”
Kel laughed now. “Marilyn, in my line of work, I pray about everything work related.”
“I never realized that.”
“Believe it or not, inspiration is one of the tools we rely on a lot.”
Marilyn nodded, considering. “That’s good to know.”
* * *
Petty Officer Alex Meyers walked down the hall, wondering how his new charge would respond to taking orders from an enlisted man. In his twelve years working in rehab and physical therapy, he found that the higher the rank, the more difficult the patient. When he entered the commander’s room at 0600, he decided this time might be different.
Instead of lying in bed as Alex had expected, the commander was standing by the window across the room from the bed. Even more impressive than the man being vertical was the fact that the walker was beside him. If this man was willing to rely on the tools at his disposal instead of refusing them for pride’s sake, he imagined they would get along just fine.
Commander Bennett turned to look at him. “If you’re going to tell me I should be in bed, you’ll be wasting your breath.”
“I gather you’ve had a few run-ins with the nurses.” Alex nodded in understanding.
“Oh, yeah.”
“Well, I’m actually here to get you out of bed,” Alex told him. “I’m Alex Meyers. It’s my job to get you up and moving again.”
“Good.” Commander Bennett nodded. “It’s about time I had someone on my side.”
“Just remember you said that when I’m telling you to try something you don’t think you can do.”
“Deal.”
“Are you ready to get started, Commander?”
“I’m ready.” He gripped his walker and nodded his head. “And call me Kel.”
8
“Are you having any luck?” Marilyn asked, motioning to the files Kel was looking through when she walked in.
Kel shook his head. “It’s going to be hard finding someone to fit the dynamics of our squad without getting a chance to meet them.”
“What do you mean, ‘the dynamics’?”
“It’s hard to explain.” Kel looked at her as though searching for the right words. “When you rely so heavily on teamwork, it’s crucial that everyone can trust each other. My squad has been together so long that we know what everyone else is doing whether we can see them or not. How do I find someone who can step into that environment and be sure that they won’t let everyone down?”
“Is there any way you would be able to meet these men?” Marilyn asked. “Or maybe Brent would be able to.”
“I get the feeling that the admiral doesn’t want to wait long enough to give us that luxury,” Kel told her. “They are all new graduates of BUD/S, so he wants to have a name before their orders are cut.”
Marilyn sat down in the chair by the bed and nodded. “Tell me about them. I mean, tell me what you’re allowed to tell me about them.”
“Like what?”
“Can you tell me where they’re from? How old they are? That kind of thing?”
“Let’s see. This one is from Michigan.” Kel laid the open file on his lap and opened the next one. “Then we have Chicago, Miami, and San Diego.”
“Do they get to say where they would prefer to be stationed?”
“In the teams, everyone knows you don’t have much of a choice,” Kel started, but he still took the time to flip through the files. “Two don’t show any preference. The one from San Diego asked for a West Coast station, and the one from Michigan wants OUTCONUS.”
“Huh?”
“Outside of the continental US”
Marilyn nodded with new understanding. “If the guy from San Diego wants to stay close to home, he might not be the best fit since he’d be disappointed to get this assignment.” Marilyn tilted her head to one side and continued hesitantly, “I don’t know much about what you do, but you’ve always seemed really proud of how well your team works together. If this guy won’t appreciate the opportunity, I wouldn’t think you would want him.”
“You’re probably right.” Kel pulled one file from his lap, closed it, and set it aside. Then he looked over at Marilyn with an odd expression.
“What?”
“I’m impressed.” Kel gave her a nod of approval. “I’ve been staring at these files for hours and haven’t gotten anywhere. Now I feel like I’m making progress.”
“Maybe you’ve been staring at them too long,” Marilyn suggested.
“Or you might be the inspiration I was waiting for,” Kel told her.
Marilyn smiled at that. “What about their basic skills?”
“They’re all pretty much the same. The one who wants to be stationed overseas is stronger in foreign languages, but the other two are better in most of the other skill areas.”
“Which is more important to you?” Marilyn asked.
“Probably the basic skill areas,” Kel admitted. “My foreign language skills are probably the weakest on my squad, so it isn’t going to hinder them to have someone equal to me instead of better than me in that area.”
“Plus, if he’s that good with languages, he would probably be more useful in an overseas assignment where he wants to be in the first place.”
“Okay. That brings us down to these two.” Kel shifted the two files so that he could look at the information on both at the same time. “There is really no significant difference between them.” He shook his head and leaned back against his pillow. “I keep thinking that the biggest obstacle for the new guy is going to be the religious issues.”
“What do you mean?”
“If I get someone who wants to spend all of his free time hanging out at bars and chasing women, he’s going to have a hard time connecting with the other guys in the squad.”
“Yeah, but just because someone isn’t Mormon doesn’t mean they drink and smoke all the time or that they don’t have standards.”
“I know, but how can I tell from a stack of papers?”
“I have no idea.”
“Me either.” Kel shifted and started to set the files aside. Then he saw it. The clue he had been looking for. “Do you think a competitive swimmer would smoke or drink?”
“I doubt it.” Marilyn shook her head. “And if he did, I doubt it would be much.”
“I think we just found my replacement.”
“Really?”
Kel nodded and smiled. “Our boy from Miami was the star of the Naval Academy’s swim team. He swam all four years and was captain his senior year.”
“It sounds like you should give him a try.”
“That’s what I’m thinking,” Kel agreed. “Any chance you can hand me that phone there? I need to give the admiral a call.”
Marilyn picked up the phone and handed it to him. “Do you want me to wait outside?”
Kel shook his head as he dialed the number. When the admiral came on the phone, Kel sounded confident when he said, “I’ve got that name for you. Jay Wellman.”
* * *
Someone was after her, her breath ragged as she ran towa
rd her car. She could hear the footsteps getting closer, her fingers numb as she fumbled with her keys. The car was just ahead, her ride to safety. She managed to press the unlock button, grasping the door handle and jumping inside. Somehow the key slid into the ignition even though her hands were shaking, and the car roared to life.
The car squealed into motion as she looked into the back window and saw the dark figure raise a gun, one she recognized as a . . .
Marilyn stopped typing, her train of thought interrupted as she hit a minor roadblock. What kind of gun would her bad guy carry? She considered a couple of options, not quite sure what the differences were, even though she was familiar with the names. She let out a little sigh, for a moment wishing that she could ask Kel his opinion. Of course, she couldn’t. She could already imagine how embarrassed she would be if he knew this was how she spent her free time.
Usually, when he wasn’t on an assignment, they spent most of their time together. Their shared interests weren’t very complicated. They played games, watched movies, or went out to dinner or a movie. Since her hours were flexible with transcribing, she always worked when he worked so they would have more time together.
She knew he thought that all of her time at the computer was spent transcribing legal documents. Sometimes she felt a little guilty for deceiving him, but it wasn’t like she had ever really lied to him. She’d just let him assume he knew why she was typing.
With Kel injured, she wouldn’t have that excuse for long. She had called her boss and tried to quit her job the day she went down to Virginia Beach to get her things. Her boss had been very understanding, but he had been unwilling to take her resignation under the circumstances. Instead, he had insisted that she take a three-month leave of absence to be sure that quitting was really what she wanted. Marilyn already knew that when the three months were up she wouldn’t want to go back.
Over the past several days, she had fallen into a comfortable routine. She got up early each morning and spent two hours writing before spending a few minutes with Katherine over breakfast. She then went to the hospital with the laptop in tow. Most of her time at the hospital was spent with Kel, but now that he had started rehab, she usually had at least an hour or two to write. At night she typically returned to the Whitmores’ house where she ate dinner, made an occasional phone call to update her mom and Heather, and then spent another hour or two writing.
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