The team was limited to spending almost all of their time in the small sleeping quarters or in the mess, since space was so limited and they didn’t want to be in the way. The Captain had taken Cascaes and Mackey to the bridge and given them a little tour to be polite, but they didn’t want to overstay their welcome, and didn’t stick around long.
When they arrived at the fleet, they surfaced next to a submarine tender and the Captain used the transfer of personnel as an excuse to get some supplies, including fresh fruit, as well as mail for his crew. Prior to picking up the team, they had been at sea for four months, most of that time submerged. After the sub surfaced, the Captain allowed his men topside in shifts to see the sun and breath some fresh air. Three small boats from the USS Ronald Reagan arrived at the sub and the team said their goodbyes and thanks to the Captain and crew. Their “package” was taken in an orange jumpsuit with his wrists shackled to his waist, the word prisoner in bold letters across his chest and back.
The three small boats bounced across the choppy Caribbean Sea, the SEAL members of the team beaming with joy at being on top of their ocean again. Most of them actually had their faces turned into the mist to deeply breathe the salt air, like addicts needing a fix. Theresa laughed at Moose as he leaned over the edge of the boat, trying to get his face wet with the ocean spray. The SEALs were just a different breed.
The team went from small rubber boats to one of the fleet’s largest ships, where they were taken to the flight deck and a waiting master chief standing by an MV-22 Osprey. The master chief welcomed his guests and informed them that he didn’t have a 737 commercial airliner hanging around. The Osprey, a Marine Corps tilt-rotor aircraft that could take off vertically, was one of the few aircraft on board the carrier that could handle so many passengers. The Ospreys were new arrivals for the marines on board and would be getting some work in the Middle East when the fleet made its way back across the Atlantic in another month. For now, the fleet was doing some training and had picked up and dropped off personnel at Gitmo in Cuba.
The team boarded the Osprey and was on their way to Puerto Rico within a few minutes. There, a waiting private jet sat, fueled and ready to go back to its home in Langley, Virginia. As the Osprey touched down in Puerto Rico where they would change planes, Julia leaned over to Chris and smiled. “I’ll never complain about an indirect flight again for the rest of my life, I promise.”
Chapter 42
Home
The first cheer happened when the pilot told his passengers that they were in US airspace. The second occurred when they touched down in Langley. Well, everyone was cheering except their guest in the orange jumpsuit who was still complaining about his handcuffs. He shut up when Moose asked him how he thought Vega’s wrists were feeling right about now.
The tired but happy passengers stepped down off the sleek black jet and were met by the familiar bus and the smiling face of Dex Murphy. He shook hands firmly with his old friend Chris Mackey and then greeted each member of the team one at a time with a word or two of praise and thanks and a “welcome home.” They boarded the bus and were taken directly to the main building where they would be debriefed. Raman Qasim was handed off to two very stoic looking gentlemen and one woman, intentionally chosen for her gender to further humiliate their Islamic prisoner. He was put into a black SUV and taken elsewhere, not to be seen again by any member of the team.
The team walked back into the familiar building and Dex led them back to the large briefing room where Darren Davis and Leah Pereira were waiting to greet them. Leah shook hands with Julia and Theresa and congratulated them on their success, but Julia was quick to snap back that she’d like a chance to speak with Leah alone. Leah told her that there would be private debriefings later for her and Theresa, but for now to join her teammates in the larger room.
Davis was first up to address the room. His first order of business was to inform the team that there was a gold star being engraved at the CIA’s memorial near the entranceway for Raul Santos. Santos’ family would be informed that he was killed in action on special assignment, but that unfortunately, his body could not be recovered due to the circumstances of the operation. The room was silent when he finished, and then Cascaes told Davis he would be putting Santos in for a Bronze Star and Purple Heart to which Davis simply answered, “Of course.” Although he was on assignment to the CIA, for the sake of his family, he would be treated as a United States Marine, killed in combat in the Global War on Terrorism. He would receive full military honors.
Davis lowered the lights and projected pictures on the screen that Cascaes and Mackey had sent in from the field. Everyone cringed at the grainy picture of Enrique Antonio Vega hanging between the two poles with his guts hanging out. Davis quickly changed the slide. When he had finished showing the team the field ID pictures, he showed the slide of McKnight’s convoy and the destruction that had occurred during that attack, and then flicked the lights on.
“James McKnight and over thirty other people died because of Enrique Vega and those other three men. You have ended his operation. His cocaine will no longer show up on our streets and the Islamic Fundamentalists in the area have been dealt a blow. Will others replace them? Of course. But those four men will no longer add to the world’s problems. This Global War on Terror will continue for many years, and even if it means hunting these animals down all over the globe one or two at a time, we will continue our mission to make sure Americans are safe in their beds.”
Davis walked around the small podium and sat on a chair close to the small group. “Look, I don’t do politics any more than you do. We are given a mission, and we say, ‘yes, sir or yes ma’am,’ and we do it to the best of our ability. But I can tell you, the mood around DC is changing. And if Congress decides that our troops are leaving Iraq or Afghanistan before the region is stabilized, it will fall on us to do more than we are already doing. Decisions about nation building or going to war are above our pay grade, but I can predict that we, the CIA, are going to be getting a lot busier in the future.
You men signed on to play a little baseball and do some covert work. It may be time to start practicing your fielding and hitting again. The Los Angeles Outreach Ministry is officially closed. The Navy All-Star Team is not, however.”
He looked at Theresa. “And maybe the team needs a trainer to travel with them, as well.” Moose used his hand to hide his smile. Davis looked at Julia, “Hell, maybe the team could use a couple of trainers. In any case, the possibilities are there. You will spend the next two days here for debriefings and physicals, and then you’ll have a week off to unwind. After that, you’ll start playing ball again and wait for the next assignment.
On behalf of Director Holstrum, welcome home and congratulations on completing your mission. We hope that Mr. Qasim will shed some light on the Tri-Border Region that will set them back a couple of years.” He called up Leah, who briefly offered her congratulations as well, and then asked Theresa and Julia to follow her when she left. They would spend the next few hours describing in great detail everything that had happened over the past week, as well as a more detailed account of their past year or so living with the Guaranis. Julia threatened to quit on more than one occasion during their heated conversation, but kept coming back to the idea of joining the baseball team with Theresa, and more importantly, Chris.
Theresa and Julia would both be busy for the next few weeks documenting their files from beginning to end of their time in Paraguay. “The good, the bad, and the ugly file” as the agents called them, would be reviewed carefully to try and learn from it for future operations. The contacts in Paraguay would be noted for future operations as well. And while Julia and Theresa were never ultimately satisfied with Leah’s decision to close the operation down and pull out, it was over, and in the end, they made their decision to stick it out at CIA.
Epilogue
Director Holstrum left St. Peter’s Cemetery early that m
orning after his brief conversation with the white granite stone that read James McKnight. He dropped the flowers after he had told his buddy Jim that he got the bastards, and he’d see him again one day down the road.
Chris Cascaes woke up late that same morning. He was face down in fresh smelling soft sheets, and it took him a second to remember where he was. It had been quite a long time since he had slept past eight o’clock in the morning. He lifted his head and turned it the other way to see Julia smiling at him. He grinned and said, good morning. She leaned over and gave him a kiss, and he decided it was going to be another really good day.
In a cell in an undisclosed location, there was no morning or evening. The lights went on and off at random, along with the screaming loud rap music. It had been several very long days indeed for Raman Qasim, who no longer had any idea what day or time it was. He didn’t know it, but a very long day was about to start for him.
Moose pulled up in front of Theresa’s small apartment. They had enjoyed a couple of dinners together and could see that they would be spending a lot of time together in the future. She hopped in his pickup truck, kissed him good morning, and they took off to grab breakfast before heading over to baseball practice. Moose informed the team trainer, Theresa that he had been cramping up lately and might need a full rub down after practice. She made a face and said, “uh-huh,” then punched his big arm. They both laughed, knowing that they were perilously close to pulling back into her driveway.
Dex Murphy’s secure phone rang at home. It was his second day off in sixteen days. It was Director Holstrum.
“Sorry Dex, I know you had some time off coming to you. We have a situation in the Democratic Republic of Congo, and I need your team. How long before you can have them ready for another op?”
About the Author
David M. Salkin is the author of eight thrillers in various genres, including military espionage, crime, horror, science fiction, action-adventure and mystery. With a writing style reminiscent of the late, great Michael Crichton, Salkin’s work keeps his readers turning pages into the late hours. His books have received Gold and Bronze medals in the Stars & Flags book awards, and David has appeared as a guest speaker all over the country.
David is an elected official in Freehold Township, NJ where he has served for twenty years in various roles including Mayor, Deputy Mayor, Township Committeeman and Police Commissioner. He co-owns Salkin’s Jewel Case with his brother and is a Master Graduate Gemologist.
When not working or writing, David prefers to be Scuba diving with his family. He is a Master Diver and “fish geek,” as well as a pretty good chef and wine aficionado. Some of his famous recipes were perfected in the parking lot of Giants Stadium.
Into the Jungle Page 20