“Ladies first,” I said.
“I just received transfer orders,” she said. I tried to hide the pain those five words caused and must have succeeded, because she continued excitedly. “It’s really thanks to you. The Surgeon General was so impressed with the operation to remove that bullet from your spine, he’s recommended me for a neurosurgery internship at Bethesda. How cool is that?”
“That’s great,” I lied, feeling all the air being sucked out of my balloon. “When will you have to leave?”
“I have until the end of the month to get things settled in Key West and report for duty. It shouldn’t even take that long. I have a sister in Orlando that’s already agreed to keep my dog and I’ll just put my car in storage. What did you want to tell me?”
She was very excited to start this new phase in her career that was obvious. What did I have to offer to dissuade her? My mind was moving very slow. Fortunately, Rusty overheard our conversation, though he was pretending to not listen.
“Well, you gonna tell her about our partnership?” he blurted out suddenly.
“What partnership?” Jackie asked.
“Jesse’s buying half my bar,” Rusty said with faked excitement.
“That’s great news. Between the two of you I bet you’ll have the finest bar and marina in the Keys.”
“See, Jesse. That’s exactly what I said.”
The rest of the flight lasted less than two hours, but it felt like two days. When we landed at Reagan National, a DHS van was waiting and took us to the hotel where we split up. When I got to my room, I showered, shaved, and got dressed. To meet the President, one would normally wear a coat and tie, neither of which I owned. I wore the closest thing to dress clothes I did own, besides my uniform, a pair of navy trousers and a long sleeve white shirt. There was a knock on the door.
I opened it and Rusty said, “Glad I’m not the only one not wearing a monkey suit.”
“Thanks for what you said on the plane. I felt like a clown.”
“Forget it, man,” he said. “What are you gonna do now?”
“Do? She’s getting transferred. It’s the opportunity of a lifetime. I’m not going to do anything that might take that away from her. No way.”
“Then suck it up, Marine. Life goes on.”
“Want a drink? The minibar is well stocked and it’s on the government’s nickel.”
“Sure,” he said. “Why not? Meeting the President is kinda big, I don’t mind tellin’ ya, I’m as nervous as a long tailed cat in a room full of rockers.”
I opened two mini bottles of Bacardi, poured them into a couple of glasses with some ice and handed one to Rusty. “Is this what they pass off for rum up here?” he asked.
“The power elite up here don’t drink rum,” I said. “Only 15 year old scotch.”
“Another good reason not to leave the Keys,” he said as we both tossed down the tasteless clear liquid.
I opened the fridge and tossed him a Coke, taking one for myself. “Can’t meet the leader of the free world smelling like a cheap rum factory.”
Rusty walked over to the window and looked out over the imposing skyline. “Why do you suppose that Colonel insisted I come along?”
I thought about it for a moment. Rusty had nothing to do with the fishing trip, his only connection to it was his daughter. “Guess we’ll find out in about an hour.”
There was another knock on the door and when I opened it, Stockwell was standing there in a custom made suit. He looked at the two of us and said, “They don’t sell ties down in the islands?”
“Couldn’t really tell ya,” Rusty said. “Never shopped for one.”
“Let’s get going, the van’s waiting.”
We followed him down the hall, where the others were waiting at the elevators. I just wanted to get this over with and go home. “What’s wrong?” Jackie asked.
I wanted to tell her, but couldn’t. “I don’t like cities. Too many people.”
We rode in silence down to the ground floor, out through the lobby and got in the same DHS van that brought us here. A few minutes later we turned west on Constitution Avenue and passed the South Lawn then turned north on 17th Street for a block, finally turning into a security checkpoint at East Street. The van was checked over by Secret Service Uniformed Division officers then we proceeded through the barricades and turned left along the west side of the South Lawn and parked in a slot to the north of the West Wing.
“Okay,” Stockwell said from the front passenger seat. “We have to go through another security checkpoint and the Secret Service is very strict on what can be brought inside the White House. Best bet is put your ID in your pocket and leave everything else. No purses, pens, knives, pretty much everything.”
As we got out, everyone left their belongings on their seat and we walked to the Lobby Entrance on the north side of the building. We entered the foyer area, with its high ceilings and matching décor on either side then straight through into the lobby itself, where we were greeted at the registration desk and issued our temporary ID’s. The receptionist punched a button on the phone and said that ADD Stockwell and guests had arrived then asked us to wait. There were matching couches and chairs on either side of the room, with closed doors beyond them. After a few minutes a Secret Service agent came through the door on the right and said, “The President will see you now, Colonel.”
We followed him down a long corridor, through an archway then turned left down another long corridor, where two more Secret Service agents waited at the end. I recognized one from the fishing trip, Paul Bender.
“I see you left your chest on the boat,” he said.
“Good to see you again, Bender,” I said ignoring the dig.
“Good to be seen. I never got a chance to thank you, and especially you, Petty Officer Thurman.” Julie’s cheeks flushed just a little. Then he spoke into his coat sleeve, “Colonel Stockwell and guests are here.”
A moment later, he said, “Follow me, please.” We passed through what looked like an extremely thick and heavy archway that probably had steel doors behind hidden recesses, into a small alcove, built at an angle to the corridor. Another agent stood outside an open door, as Bender walked though and stood just inside and off to the side.
“Come in, Colonel,” the President said. “All of ya, come on in.” He got up from behind his desk and walked around it to greet us. The Oval Office was bigger than I’d imagined, with two large sofas facing one another in the center of a large oval rug that had the Presidential Seal in the middle of it. At one end was the Resolute Desk I remembered seeing pictures of, with a young John Kennedy, Junior under it. In front of the desk were two striped chairs facing a coffee table situated between the sofas. At the other end of the sofas were identical end tables and two more striped chairs angled next to those. He greeted each of us by name and thanked us for coming.
“Everyone have a seat,” he said. “I’m really glad you could all make it.”
“Mister President,” Stockwell said. “This is Julie’s father, Rusty Thurman and Corporal Jared Williams. Secretary Winter asked him to come along.”
The President shook hands with Rusty and Jared and said, “Don should be here in a few minutes to speak with you Corporal. Mister Thurman, you raised a fine young lady here.”
“Thank you, sir,” Rusty said. “I’m inclined to agree with you.”
After we were all seated, the President said, “Now, I know the FBI has some questions for all of you, but rest assured, they’re just trying to sort things out for the record. I didn’t get a chance to thank you for a great day of fishing, what with all the chaos.”
“It was a pleasure having you aboard, sir,” I said.
“Laura was really happy when we sat down to supper the next evening. It really surprised her when I told her I’d caught the dorado myself. The second reason I asked you here was to personally thank you, Miss Thurman. It’s not going to be Miss much longer, though is it?”
“No sir, we�
��re getting married tomorrow.”
“Congratulations to both of you. I know you probably have a lot of last minute plans so I won’t keep you long.”
Just then another door opened. The President said, “Come in, Don. Folks this is Don Winter, Secretary of the Navy.”
We all stood up to shake hands with him and as he moved around the room, the President introduced each of us. He had a fantastic memory, it seemed.
He came to Jared last and said, “Son, I’ve been fully briefed on what happened to you and I wanted you here to apologize in person. Politics has no place on the battlefield and you were a victim of politics, nothing more. I have a paper in my pocket that once I sign it will change your discharge to honorable. But I have one question for you. What do you hope to gain from this?”
“Mister Secretary, sir,” Jared said. “If my discharge is changed to honorable, will that mean I can serve again?”
“Yes it does.”
“That’s all I’d want to gain, sir. To go back to my comrades and carry the fight to the enemy.”
“May I borrow your desk, Mister President,” asked the SecNav.
“Please do,” the President responded with a grin.
“Will you all please join me?” he asked as he walked around behind the desk. “Corporal Williams, front and center, please.”
He sat down at the desk, pulled a sheet of paper from inside his coat and signed it, then asked the President if he would witness it. Once the President signed it, the SecNav stood and said, “Please raise your right hand and repeat after me, Corporal.”
And just like that, Jared was sworn in, with all the rights and privileges that go along with an Honorable Discharge. The SecNav shook his hand, told him he had a week to report for duty then thanked the President and left.
“Congratulations, son,” said the President. “I bet there’s not a lot of Non-coms that can say they were sworn in, in the Oval Office.”
“No, sir. I wouldn’t think so,” Jared said beaming.
“Now, one last thing,” the President said. “Colonel?”
Stockwell stepped over to the President’s side and took out what I knew to be two medal cases and handed them to the President. “Petty Officer Thurman, I have here two medals that I’m about to give you. The circumstances of how you earned them can’t leave this office, but my signature is on both citations. I understand you were wounded when that rocket exploded?”
“Just a flesh wound, sir. A piece of shrapnel, is what Doctor Burdick said.”
He opened one of the cases and turned it around. “This is the Purple Heart, Petty Officer. Given to men and women in the military who are wounded in action.”
“But, sir…” she started to protest.
“Are you about to argue with the President of the United States on what he considers to be an enemy action?” asked Stockwell.
“No, sir,” Julie replied.
He opened the other case and I immediately recognized the Bronze Star with a V affixed to it. “Colonel, will you please read the citation?”
Stockwell opened a file he’d been carrying and read from it, “To all who shall see these presents, greeting. This is to certify that the President of the United States of America, authorized by Executive Order on 24 August, 1962, has awarded the Bronze Star Medal to Petty Officer Third Class, Juliet Thurman, United States Coast Guard, for exceptional and heroic actions under hostile fire. On 4 June, 2006, Petty Officer Thurman displayed superb initiative, selfless courage and extreme valor in placing herself between the enemy and her superior officers when under attack by RPG fire. Petty Officer Thurman’s actions bring great credit upon herself and the United States Coast Guard. Given under my hand, George W. Bush, President of the United States of America.” Stockwell handed Julie the citation and both boxes. “Congratulations, Petty Officer.”
Julie looked at Deuce and he raised both hands. “I didn’t know anything about this, I swear.”
“You’re the first woman in the Coast Guard to be awarded that medal,” the President said. “Your quick thinking saved a lot of lives, mine included. I’ll never forget that.”
We ended our visit with the President and were escorted back out by Agent Bender. “You people be careful down there,” he said as we climbed into the van. “Maybe when I retire, I’ll come down and visit you.”
The drive to Quantico was full of excited talk and went by quickly. The President was true to his word. Oour interviews with the FBI only took an hour, as they split us up and we were each interviewed by different agents.
As we left Quantico, Deuce asked Jared, “Since you don’t have to report for a week, how about staying on with us for a few days? We’d love to have you at the wedding tomorrow.”
“Good idea,” I said. “There’s still work to do on the island and you could use a stake to hold you over until Uncle Sam gets you back on the payroll.”
“Okay,” he said. “I’ve sorta enjoyed being out there on that island.”
“So, it’s back to you being a hermit?” Jackie asked.
I’d decided I wasn’t going to dwell on her leaving. “Hermit?” I said with a grin. “There’s almost 20 people on that island. I might have to spend some time in Key West to get away from the crowd.”
She smiled and said, “That’d be nice.”
Twenty minutes later, we were back aboard the G-5 and taking off. Stockwell motioned for Deuce and me to join him once we were at cruising altitude.
“Smith’s still out there,” he said. “And he’s got to be getting frustrated, losing his hired killers, not to mention the money he’s paid them. Have you given any thought to postponing the wedding?”
“Not an option,” I said, looking across the cabin at Julie, who was talking to Doc and Jackie. “Besides, the whole team will be there and we’ll be armed.”
“There’s a lot of ways a bomb that small can be used,” he said.
“Not really,” Deuce said. “I had a long talk with Tony. He studied the transcript of Lothrop’s interrogation. He says the shape of the charge will have maximum affect in about a 40 degree arc, maybe less. So it has to actually be aimed. That means being on site to position it properly.”
“The wedding is the logical target though,” I said. “He blames you for his fall from stardom and probably me to a lesser extent. Taking us both out, along with his replacement and most of the team will be justifiable to a narcissist like him.”
“Working on your Psych PHD?” Stockwell asked.
“If you’d met him, you’d know,” I said. “The man thinks the whole world revolves around him.”
“Okay, but I’m going to request the Sheriff have two Deputies stopping everyone coming in the driveway to the Rusty Anchor.”
“Better add a third on a boat at the end of the canal,” I said. “A lot of people will come by boat.”
“Going to a wedding by boat?”
“It’s a drinking island with a fishing problem. Rusty’s having an open bar.”
We discussed other security options, but the simple fact that there would be almost two dozen armed SpecOps people at the wedding meant very little in the way of further security would be needed.
We landed at NAS Boca Chica two hours later. Stockwell said he had some meetings up at Homestead for the afternoon, but would be at Marathon early the next morning. He arranged for Shore Patrol to take Jackie home to get a few things, before returning to the base. Until Smith was located, it was best for her, Doc, and Nikki not to stay at home. Rather than stay on base she asked if we’d wait for her to pick up a few things and go back to the island with us. The Shore Patrol took Doc, Nikki, and Jackie to their homes so they could get what they needed for an extended stay on the island. Thirty minutes later, we were idling out of the marina and headed home.
News of Julie’s awards and Jared’s reenlistment arrived ahead of us and everyone was excited for them. Chyrel pulled Deuce and I aside once we tied up the Revenge. “I have some good news,” she said with a know
ing smile.
“Smith was in a car wreck?” Deuce asked.
“Not quite that good. He deposited the money he withdrew in Switzerland into a numbered account in the Caymans.”
“How could he do that?” I asked. “He’d have to take it there, wouldn’t he?”
“Not necessarily,” she replied. “Most major offshore banks have branch offices in Miami. He went to a branch office there.”
“Is that supposition?” Deuce asked. “Maybe he flew down there.”
“Nope,” she said. “His numbered account in the Caymans was one of the ones he did all those fancy transfers into. I’ve been monitoring all of them for activity. When I saw the deposit was made at the Miami branch, I hacked into their security system. Got him on video entering and leaving.”
“Great work,” Deuce said.
“I could transfer it out of the account if you want to mess with him a little.”
“No. Just keep monitoring it. He doesn’t know we know.”
There was a lot to be done at the Anchor, so Rusty left soon after we arrived. Tony, Grayson, and Simpson went with him to help out and keep an eye on things there. We had an early supper, assigned watch, and turned in early. Tomorrow promised to be a long day.
Jackie and I took the forward stateroom and Doc and Nikki took the guest cabin. I figured this might be the last night I’d see Jackie for a while, maybe forever.
“You’ve been pretty quiet all day,” she said. “Is something bothering you?”
“You mean besides a maniac with a bomb who keeps sending hired guns after Deuce?”
“Deuce and you, remember.”
“Well, that and you’re going away. Tomorrow might be the last time we see each other.”
“I doubt that,” she said. “Key West is my home now. This internship will last a year, but I’ll be coming back down here quite a bit. I only accepted it with the condition I be reassigned to Boca Chica when I’m finished.”
Still, I knew how fate sometimes threw a monkey wrench into anyone’s plans. I decided then and there to not tell her how I felt until I knew she would be returning. “That’s good to know.”
Fallen Pride (Jesse McDermitt Series) Page 26