The volleyball tournament was going strong in the hangar bay, beside the basketball game. Too many volleyballs had gone overboard in previous years when they’d tried to play on the flight deck. The pass, punt, and kick tournament was canceled after losing two footballs in the drink. Double Dutch jump rope was popular, but the event everyone agreed was—by far—the best, was the dress-up relay race. Especially when they got the officers and chiefs involved. Somebody had come up with a bizarre collection of clothing—many donated by the women—for each participant to have to dress and undress in during the race.
While all these activities were in full swing, live bands took turns performing. Many of the crew played instruments and jammed together in the practice rooms during their down time, so here was their chance to shine. The crew loved being able to enjoy live music as it blared out over the briny blue. Sunshine, good food, good tunes, games, camaraderie, and a day off from work helped make it a truly memorable Labor Day. The CO had even cut watches to two-hour increments, so everyone would get a chance to enjoy the day—because it sucked to pull duty during a rare steel beach party.
Hallie glanced around the flight deck and reveled in everyone’s excitement. She enjoyed watching them wallow in the fun time. Deprivation will do that to you. And she looked at the people. The joy on their faces and, no matter how pathetic some of it was, their dancing. This was a celebration and this was her family.
A holiday family picnic.
And she wasn’t referring to that guy over there turning ribs on the grill. Her father. He wasn’t her family. This crew was her family. Rick must have put something together about her not caring for his enthusiasm toward her, because first he canceled the tapings, and now he didn’t even acknowledge her when she found herself passing him in the passageways. He treated her like persona non grata—which was just fine with her.
Hallie, Gina, and their friends piled their plates high with brats, potato salad, baked beans, and fresh baked chocolate chip cookies from the galley, grabbed some sodas and sat down to watch the dress-up relay races. At 1200 all activities moved to the hangar bay, where the crew would continue to party until evening. It was simply too hot to stay topside, if they didn’t have to be there. The flight deck crews were especially happy to have a day below decks.
“Swim Call” was opened up in the Gulf for the next hour and those who dared to brave the possibility of jellyfish and sea snakes leapt three stories down from the hangar bay. James filmed the CO jumping first, followed by many other brave souls, who called back, “Come on in! The water’s fine!”
Hallie’s gaze followed one swimmer. The one with the dark brown curly hair, who did a masterful butterfly stroke all the way out to the perimeter of rescue boats.
Philip’s long arms and broad shoulders cut the water rhythmically. She thought about the first time she’d seen him swim like that, in the St. Johns River, a world and, it seemed, a lifetime away.
She couldn’t believe they were now halfway around the world from their sailboat, yet on a boat together again. Even though they couldn’t actually be together, they were more together than they’d ever been. Because he knew the truth now. And he hadn’t walked away. Well, he had walked away, but he’d come back again. She flexed her left hand, glanced down at the ring on her finger, and felt a rush of warmth.
They were actually going to sail off into the sunset together.
The ring was working its magic. The word had circulated because the number of guys who hit on her had dropped dramatically. Hallie couldn’t imagine being able to stand here alone two weeks ago. Life was good.
Everything was going to be okay.
Rashid watched McCabe focus on one swimmer. She didn’t seem to notice another thing going on around her, either the activity in the hangar bay or in the water. Her focus was on one man as he swam out to the boats and back again.
Rashid couldn’t believe how many people had gone swimming in the Gulf. It gave him the willies to even think of getting in that water.
If he wasn’t mistaken, the guy she was watching was the same one she’d been talking to in the store at the card racks a couple weeks ago. Rashid watched her smile as she admired her new engagement ring. Maybe this was the cowboy everyone was talking about. Nah. Scuttlebutt had it that guy was back in the States waiting for her. And this was how she behaved. Cheating with this geek. Shit, McCabe could do way better than him. Probably was. Probably had a whole string of men on the ship while she was whoring behind her fiancé’s back.
She turned and saw him watching her. Oh, shit. She was walking his way.
“Hi. Having fun today?” McCabe asked.
“It’s okay. Better than usual around here.”
“I’m Hallie McCabe. I recognize you from the aft mess deck.” She paused.
Waiting for him to say something? He couldn’t imagine why she was over here talking to him. The McBabe? After much thought, he’d gone back to his original plan, to leave the bitch out of it and stage the attack during the news. But here she was giving him an invitation to involve her, on a silver platter.
She tried again. “Where do you work?”
“Combat. I’m an OS. You know. Checking radar. Friend or foe stuff.”
“Sounds interesting. I’ve never been down to the Combat Direction Center before. Would you be interested in maybe letting me come by and do a piece for the news?”
Rashid’s heart raced. He had to think on his feet here. How much he’d like to take her to Paradise with him—like he was going there. And she was making this way too easy. “Maybe. Got any openings this week?”
“I’d have to check the schedule, but I can get back to you. It can’t wait until next week?”
“Well, Thursday, the ninth is my birthday. That would be kind of cool to be on the news on my birthday.” His heart palpitated at the very idea of having her there with him, while he took control of CDC.
“Oh, I like that idea. I’ll move some people around and we’ll plan on Thursday. We like to do it in the morning, so we can edit.”
“No.” It had to be after dark. “I work the night shift. Can you come by after the news? Around 1930?”
“It wouldn’t air until the next night then. And it wouldn’t be your birthday.”
“Well, they’re having a little celebration for me on the ninth, so that’s when I’d like you to come by.” Yeah, like those assholes would care if it was his birthday, which it wasn’t.
“Okay. 1930. I’ll see you in Combat. And…I’m sorry, I didn’t get your name.”
“OS2 Davis. Randy Davis.”
A name that is majorly going to be in the news, honey. Real soon.
“Okay. See you then. Thanks. Have fun today.”
She turned and walked back to the edge of the hangar bay, probably so she could look out and see if lover boy was still out there playing hide and seek with the sea snakes.
Rashid’s pulse throbbed as he climbed the ladders to the Combat Direction Center. Holy shit, the McBabe was coming to interview him. He could already imagine the shocked look on her face when he told her the suicide boats were headed their way. How that soft, creamy face would go white. And she’d beg him to stop the boats. Maybe she’d get on her knees for him. Then she’d beg him not to kill her. She’d probably do anything if he’d surrender. He realized he was growing hard at the rush of power he would have over her. He needed to get to his computer to alert the sadiqs there had been a time change for K-Day. A smile warmed him as he felt everything clicking into place. If he couldn’t take Rosie out with him, this other whore, McCabe, would just have to do.
After swim call was secured, Hallie saw Philip standing in the entrance to the hangar bay talking to some other officers in bathing suits. She couldn’t believe it when he called out to her as she walked by. “Hey, McCabe, how come you weren’t in there swimming?”
/>
Philip?
This was very brazen of him to call attention to himself, especially since he was standing with his friends. And he was smiling broadly. This was like something she would have done.
Hallie recognized Sky, but not the others. She had to keep track of whom she should recognize.
She walked over to join them. “The kiddy pools are about my speed, sir. I saw you swimming out there. Feel any sea snakes slithering around?” She waggled her fingers and laughed.
“Nope. It was absolutely perfect. Very salty, but bathtub warm. I want to be able to go home and say I swam in the Persian Gulf.” Since she’d never seen him amongst his friends before, she was surprised at how outgoing and chatty he was.
“Better you than me.” she smiled warmly, but not so focused on him that anyone would guess they were lovers. “Everybody having fun?”
They all responded enthusiastically and then Sky piped up after leaning around to look down at her left hand, “Hey, McCabe, tell me it ain’t so. Tell me you didn’t just get engaged.”
“Afraid so, Lieutenant.”
Sky threw his hand on his chest and feigned a faint. “Aw, you just broke my heart, McCabe.” Everybody laughed.
“Sorry, but I’ve got a great guy who will be waiting for me when we get back home. That’s the breaks.”
“Well, if you ever wise up, you know where you can find the Skylark.” He patted his chest to identify himself by his call sign. Sky was having so much fun with this, as was Philip, who continued to grin.
“Oh-kay. I’ll keep that in mind, Lieutenant. See you guys. Have fun.”
She continued on her way toward the music to find Gina and the gang. What an enjoyable day this had been. Friendship, music, good food, a day off from work for most of the crew, and a chance to watch Philip swim.
Plus she’d befriended that lonely guy, Davis. Hopefully making his day a little nicer, knowing she’d be filming him on his birthday. He was exactly the kind of person she liked to ask for interviews. People who didn’t get a chance to be in the limelight. The shy, quiet ones who deserved to shine once in a while.
And now only three more days until Ramadan would be over and hopefully everyone would be able to get off the ship in Dubai. Sometime after the most dangerous date for a U.S. Navy ship in the Middle East. A date when they would be on high alert.
September 11.
Chapter 27
“This is MC2 Hallie McCabe saying good night and stay safe.” Once the camera clicked off, Hallie stood and stretched. “James, remember we’re going to Combat after this. Are you sure you don’t mind?” She knew he wasn’t crazy about working late, but Hallie had pleaded with him. It was Davis’s birthday and she had a soft spot for underdogs. He was the kind of person who looked like he could use a friend and some attention.
MC3 James Hall gathered up his camera equipment and followed Hallie through the passageways to their next assignment. Expecting to find some kind of celebration, they were surprised to see everyone quietly performing their jobs in the semi-darkness of the Combat Direction Center. She knew CDC was dimly lit with red lights so the Operations Specialists could better monitor their search radars. But she’d never been this up close and personal with the eerie collection of electronic gear that glowed on monitors and plexiglas screens. Hallie realized they would need to use the spotlight on the camera when they filmed.
OS2 Davis turned from his monitor, smiled, and called to her. “Over here, McCabe.”
James set up the camera about six feet from where Davis sat as Hallie prepared her clipboard and microphone to begin the interview. “Hall, remember to turn the spot—”
The rest of her words died in her throat when she felt something cold against her temple. Instinct told her not to move. Not to breathe. Her blood turned to ice. Slowly she lifted her gaze. The eerie red glow of the room reflected off the ashen pallor of James’s face where he stood frozen to the spot, mouth agape.
Fear gripped her heart like a fist and squeezed hard as Davis spoke quiet, menacing words in her ear. “I suggest you do exactly as you’re told since I have a gun to your head and a bomb strapped to my body. One false move and it will be your fault if the bomb detonates.” Hallie bit back the urge to scream.
The thought of nodding her head, with a gun pressed against it, was not an option either. So she reached down deep and pulled two syllables out of some hidden reservoir. “Okay.”
“That’s a good girl, McCabe.”
“Hey,” called out one of the OSs from across the room. “Look at my screen. I’ve got—”
In one split second, the gun left her head, plexiglas shattered, and all personnel dove for the deck. The pit of Hallie’s stomach dropped with them and her knees threatened to follow. She countered by trying to pull in as much air as she could through her nose, willing her body not to move. She fought to keep from trembling, willing herself not to collapse.
Hallie flinched at the heat of the gun when it returned to her head. She hadn’t heard the loud crack of a shot, but she could tell by the warmth of the barrel that he had fired. Oh, my God, was there a silencer? With the thick steel bulkheads in CDC, no one outside would know what was going on. Nausea threatened at the back of her throat and she swallowed thickly.
“Every one of you assholes over here on the deck!” Davis screamed. Then he turned back to James. “And turn that fucking camera off. On the deck! Hands on your heads. You, too cameraman,” he yelled. “Any one of you moves, McCabe dies.”
Panic spread from Hallie’s center, but she worked to keep it in check. She gathered her defenses with several deep breaths. A sour taste burned in her mouth. She tried to swallow, but her mouth had gone desert dry. She feared so much as licking her lips.
What in the hell was going on?
“Anybody with a brick slide it over here,” Davis ordered. “I find out later you didn’t give me your radio right now, and you’re a dead man. Or woman.” Radios slid across the deck to his feet. Davis kicked them behind him.
Hallie considered keeping hers for only a second, but realized it was not worth dying for. She asked if she could remove it from her waistband before lifting her jacket with shaking fingers. She estimated ten to fifteen people lying prostrate in front of them. She couldn’t make an accurate count, or tell how many were females, without moving her head, especially in the semi-darkness. Her leg muscles flexed in anticipation of escaping. But there was nowhere to go. She pressed her elbows tightly against her body, trying to hold herself together.
Why was Davis doing this?
“Dixon, get over here!” Davis called. One poor soul rose hesitantly and approached them. Davis handed the man the phone. “Get Haggman down here. I’m listening, so don’t say one fucking word about what’s going on, or McCabe gets it. Just get his ass down here. The boss needs to be here for the party.”
Hallie’s pulse pounded at the thought of some of the crazies she’d seen on the news. But it was always somewhere else. Happening to someone else. Surely this was a dream. No, scratch that. A nightmare.
But she wasn’t asleep.
Dixon made the call, then returned to his spot on the deck near the computer consoles.
While they waited for the CDC Department Head to appear, Davis took target practice at the other screens in the room, shattering the equipment and further darkening the room. Hallie’s hands begged to protect her face from the flying plexiglas, but she didn’t move a muscle, except to shut her eyes. Everyone on the floor cringed reflexively as each screen exploded, but no one moved voluntarily. Hallie considered doing something each time he removed the gun from her head to shoot out a screen.
But he had a bomb strapped to his body.
Think, Hallie, think.
Surely Davis could see her heart pounding right through her uniform and would shoot her for moving. Or her kne
es would buckle and that would be his excuse.
Breathe, Hallie, breathe.
Damn it all, she was Hallie McCabe. She was not going down without a fight.
Act, Hallie, act.
“And don’t any of you worry about me running out of bullets. All I have to do is push this plunger here.” He opened the flaps of his uniform shirt to display duct tape around something yellow. “And we all go to Paradise together.”
Paradise?
Was Davis a terrorist?
Hallie sucked in several short breaths to try to gain some control. Every muscle ached with tension. Her mind raced to what an explosion could set off on this ship.
Millions of gallons of jet fuel stored below decks, along with thousands and thousands of munitions, like bullets, bombs, and missiles. And the planes, each of them a bomb in itself.
And then—oh, shit—the reactors. An explosion could lead to a nuclear disaster that could affect the Middle East for generations.
Right now Hallie McCabe was the only person who was in any position to stop him. The only one who could possibly talk him down.
The only one left standing.
Literally.
The inner-CDC door flew open and Commander Haggman joined them in the darkened space. He glanced at the destroyed monitors and the bodies on the floor. “What the hell is going on?”
“Over here, asshole!”
Hallie could barely see the commander’s face as he picked his way through the bodies lining the deck. If he’d been smart, he would have ducked right back out the door before Davis could get a bead on him in the dimly lit room. Smart maybe, but not courageous.
The CDC Officer had seen enough to know there was trouble, even if he didn’t know the extent of it. As he approached them, Hallie saw horror dawn on his face, ghostly in the red light. He froze. It was too late to turn back.
Forgive & Forget (Love in the Fleet) Page 22