The police captain shuffled the papers again, closed the folder, and put it on his desk.
“Yes, I can see he’s an integral part of your operation. Are you now under orders with one Colonel Ben-Ami of the Israeli Army Special Operatives Section of the Mistaravim Counter Terrorism Unit?”
“We are, Captain. Sixteen of us.”
“Hmmmm.” The captain looked at the papers again. “Commander, the nickname of Jaybird, the first name that he gave us after his arrest. What does that mean?”
“Sir, it’s from some early American literature, folklore or local sayings. It comes from naked as a jaybird. Which, as you know, he tends to be now and then.”
The policeman looked at Captain Bildad. “Sir, I would assume that you represent Colonel Ben-Ami in this situation. What does the Army have to say?”
“Captain, we have been operating with the Third Platoon of the U.S. Navy SEALs now for about ten days. They have undertaken dangerous and highly productive raids in the Gaza Strip and in the West Bank. They have performed flawlessly, with precision, at the lowest cost of life. Petty Officer Sterling is an integral part of that operation.
“At the current time we are on a joint venture to stop once and for all the floating booby traps that our beach areas have been plagued with for the past eleven months. Petty Officer Sterling is a part of that operation. Colonel Ben-Ami requests that if the charges are not of a serious criminal nature, the man be released into the custody of the Israeli Army’s Military Police and jurisdiction.”
The police captain nodded at the Army captain, who took a step back. All but the policeman were standing. The cop looked over the papers again, then closed the file and held it out to one of the military policemen.
“Nothing here that should merit the incarceration of the man. He is hereby turned over to the military police, and his commanding officer, and because of his service to the nation, all records of this arrest and the incident are expunged from our databases. This session is closed. You are all free to leave. The man will be brought to you in the waiting area.”
“Thank you, Captain,” Murdock said. They filed out.
Captain Bildad walked beside Murdock. “Well, we won that one. I’ve lost here before. It’s a kind of informal hearing in noncriminal cases. The MPs will take Jaybird in their car until we get back to the base; then he’s all yours.” The captain grinned. “How many times has this happened?”
“Not sure, but he’s only been arrested four times now for it. No jail time, but there was a hundred-dollar fine and costs once.”
When Jaybird came out, he wore a jail jumpsuit of bright orange. The outfit discouraged escape attempts. They never did find his clothes, which he took off and threw away as he climbed the hotel. Jaybird wasn’t making jokes.
“Fucking head hurts like twenty jackhammers are having a contest,” he said. He looked at Murdock, then quickly away. “Sorry, Skipper. Just got carried away. Don’t know what the booze is they serve over here.”
“See you back at the air base,” Murdock said, a small smile showing. Jaybird did look like he was hurting. Good. Maybe it would be longer before he tried his naked climb again.
Back in the SEALs’ quarters a half hour later, Jaybird had little to say. He took a shower, grabbed a can of Coke from the machine, and hit his bunk. Nobody jazzed him about it. The old hands knew better from previous experiences, and the newer men took a clue from the vets.
The Israelis had brought in a big-screen TV set and hooked it to cable. In the other end of the dayroom they had provided a CD player and a hundred CDs, mostly American artists.
Murdock sat in between with the phone. He had been talking to a weather specialist at the Israeli Coast Watch.
“Right, I want to know how many times during the past two months there were high tides that peaked between six and eight in the morning.”
“I could almost tell you from memory, but I’ll do a search on my tides computer file. It should have it down to the minute. Then I’ll read off the dates to you. Will that work?”
Murdock said it would, and waited for the computer to do its work. Three minutes later the night man at the Coast Watch desk had the data. Murdock wrote down the dates. There had been eleven days in the past two months when the tides were high between 0600 and 0800 on the beaches around Tel Aviv.
Murdock tried to contact the bomb squad at the Tel Aviv police, but a recording said they were all out and in an emergency he should dial the general police contact number. He had to wait for morning.
About 2200 Murdock, Lam, DeWitt, Sadler, and Fernandez sat around a table in the dayroom talking about the bombings.
“No way we can just pick up the guy who spreads the bomblets,” Fernandez said. “Hey, we’ve got to follow the trail to the guy who provides him, and then nail him and find out where he gets the shit and nail him. We get back at least three levels and we should be able to choke off the beach bombings altogether.”
“Right,” Sadler said. “Just chopping off the rattles won’t kill the damn snake. Got to go for the body and then smash its head.”
“First we stop the drops, then we go for the next step,” Murdock said.
“Bet you ten to one it’s some fucking A-rab who owns the fishing boat that’s dumping the goods,” Lam said. “Then he has complete control. He can go out anytime that he wants to.”
“Our top two suspects are Israelis,” Murdock said.
“That would make them traitors; they could hang. Does Israel have the death penalty?”
No one knew. The consensus was that it did not.
“How else can we hit the bastards?” DeWitt asked.
“We hit them right up the supply chain,” Murdock said. “The things come from overseas somewhere, so they import them. Once we nail the delivery boy on the Mediterranean, we should be able to squeeze the name of the up-the-line sumbitches out of him.”
Murdock looked around the group. Eyes were starting to drop shut. “Okay, you brain-trust guys. I’m packing it in. Tomorrow Lam and I will work the bomb squad and see what backgrounding we can do with our fishing buddy Captain Sartan on the two major suspects. The rest of you can do some training, or Ed will check with Colonel Ben-Ami to see if there are any other developmental tasks we can do while we wait for the next morning high tide.”
Murdock figured he’d drop right off the second his head hit the pillow, but it didn’t work that way. Jaybird kept cropping up. He’d really looked subdued after this episode. Lucky it was over here and not in the States. If Commander Masciareli, their SEAL Team Seven boss, found out about it, there would be hell to pay. He’d threatened to cashier Jaybird out of SEALs if he ever did his naked climb again. No reason he’d ever hear about it. Murdock would tell each man about the situation and pledge him to silence.
So, he had to have a long talk with the Jaybird. There was a chance that booze was getting to him. It could have turned into poison for him and set off some uncontrollable impulses in his brain. He’d have that talk with Jaybird and try to get him on the wagon for six months. With these hard-drinking SEALs, it would be tough, but not as hard as in the old days. Murdock shook his head, remembering when he went through BUD/S. It was a beer bust every other night. Yeah, he’d have that talk with Jaybird tomorrow. Take him on the trip to town to talk to the bomb squad and then the Coast Watch people. He had to get this damn timing down. It could lead to capturing the bomb spreader. Tomorrow.
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