“Just a little bit, sir. It’s Jaybird. He did his thing last night and is now incarcerated in the Vista jail.”
“Oh, boy. What is it?”
“We were driving in that little Toyota of his north into Carlsbad when this guy in a new Caddy cut us off and laughed, gave us the finger, and laughed some more. When Jaybird got his rig under control he took off after the bastard. Needless to say, the little Toyota topped out at about ninety-five and the Caddy just walked away from us. Finally got Jaybird cooled down a little and slowed down, and we hit a bar in Carlsbad. The Jaybird got sloshed in an hour.
“He kept yelling at this Cadillac guy, and the barman almost called the cops once, but I talked him out of it. He threw us out half hour later and Jaybird was still spitting mean mad. You know the routine then. He kept swearing at the Cadillac driver and peeling off his clothes and throwing them down. I was the rag picker. In five minutes he was jaybird naked walking in and out of stores there in Carlsbad at 1400. Broad daylight. Ten minutes later three Carsbad police cars arrived. They convinced Jaybird to go with them. I gave them his clothes and that was it. No resisting arrest, no punches.
“At the jail in Vista they told me it was a misdemeanor and after he sobered up he could post three hundred dollars bail and be released. He has a court date, but if he doesn’t show the bail becomes the fine and it’s off the books.”
“How many times is this for him?” Murdock asked.
“Just two with me. You said he’d done it before then.”
“Ask him how he got his nickname sometime. I can check his file, but I’d say this is at least five times. Different towns, different states even. Get him wrung out and released. Where you guys headed?”
“Not the faintest. Decided to drive out two days, then drive back two days.”
“Have fun. Damn quiet around here.”
“You working on a new senior chief?”
“Yeah. Hate to lose Dobler. But he’s made up his mind. You take care of Jaybird. We need both you guys.”
Murdock hung up and went back to the file folders. All were good men. He didn’t have the slightest idea which one he would pick. The interviews would determine that. His first one was for 1000. He had a half hour more.
It was almost daylight before a wandering street person saw a man in the alley. Good shoes. Yes, the man had good shoes, about the right size. If he didn’t know how to keep his shoes, he didn’t deserve them. The bum ran up quickly, looked around and saw no one protecting the man. He noticed that the guy’s pockets had been turned inside out. Robbed. Yeah. Wrong neighborhood. He had the guy’s right shoe unlaced when the man groaned and moved.
The street knight jumped back, then saw the police shield on its leather folder laying beside the body.
A cop?
The bum frowned and took another step backward when the body groaned again and with great effort sat up. He said something but the words came out garbled. The man’s face flushed darkly, his glance darted around, his mouth dribbled saliva as stark fury raced through him. At last he motioned to the man, stood with pain and leaned on the bum as he staggered toward his car. Gingerly he felt in his pocket. Yes, he still had his keys. Could he drive? Yes. He had to get to a hospital. His throat felt on fire, he couldn’t talk. That damn gringo had surprised him. He wondered if he would ever speak again. He had to. Now he had a personal reason for wanting to find the gringo. There would be no expense to the state to prosecute this Howard Anderson. It would be a matter of attempting to escape and a tragic accidental shooting.
The street bum helped Sanchez into the car, then stepped back and ran as fast as he could away from the car. Sanchez hardly noticed. He had to concentrate to get the car started. Small actions like turning they key that usually were totally automatic now had to be thought out carefully.
It took him twenty minutes to drive five miles to the closest hospital. He parked in the emergency entrance where ambulances usually came and layed on his horn until a cop and three doctors and a nurse rushed out to help him.
Will Dobler sat at the dinner table in the Fernandez house and nodded. This was what friends were for. He was lucky. Maria and Miguel had invited him and the kids over for supper. It had been a fine meal and he was feeling more like his old self. The kids had gone to play a computer game, and the adults worked on second cups of coffee.
“We’re really going to miss you down at BUD/S, Senior Chief,” Miguel said.
“Hey, you won’t have me to yell at you anymore. You’ll miss that with pleasure. Truth is, I’m getting too old to play these kid games. I’m right near to thirty-eight. Do you know that I’m the oldest man in the whole Team Seven in the field platoons? Oldest one. I am until Master Chief MacKenzie gets me slotted in somewhere. Hey, ain’t like I was shipping out. I’ll be over for coffee now and then.”
Fernandez nodded. “Hey, you know what I’ll really miss. You were one of only four men in the platoon I could beat on the OC. My times were getting better, but that damn obstacle course is a true torture chamber.
“Oh yes, the OC. I won’t have to worry about that anymore.” He paused. “Know we came out pretty clean on this mission. Vinnie was the only one with a bad wound. That chest shot is still giving them trouble over at Balboa. Not sure if he’ll get back to the platoon or not. My leg slice isn’t so bad. I could come back. But not sure about Canzoneri. Damn shrapnel tore a chunk right out of his leg. Gonna be a long time in rehab before he can even walk good again. He could make it back if he works hard enough.”
“How’s your leg coming along?”
“Good. I still use a crutch sometimes, but the medics say in six months the only thing I’ll remember about it is the three-inch scar on my leg. I’ll settle for that.”
“Any regrets about being a SEAL, Senior Chief?” Maria asked.
“Sure, the big one.” He wiped at his eyes. “Hell, I can’t bring her back. Damn it, I should have known, have watched her a lot closer. My fault, and that’s a damn big regret. When I can get past that, I have loved this SEAL life. Our platoon is on the cutting edge of world politics and national crises everywhere. Think what we’ve been a party to in just the past two years. It’s awesome. Yes, that aspect I’ll miss. But getting shot at, I won’t miss.”
“You’ve been on some good missions, Dobe.”
“Aye, and some really fouled up ones, like walking out of Chicom China with them shooting at us.”
“We made it back. We completed our mission. Those are the two important elements.”
“I like that part about you getting back,” Maria said. “That’s the most important part to me. You bet we worry. Milly and I are still going to meet every week. We’ve just about decided on Sunday afternoon. We can do girl talk, and yell at the Navy, and say a little prayer for your safe return.”
Will Dobler wiped at his eyes again, then took out a handkerchief and wiped the moisture away, turned, and blew his nose.
“You girls were wonderful for Nancy. She used to say what a blessing it was to have the two of you for friends. She said you talked about all sorts of things, including her drinking.” His eyes misted again. “Oh, damn.” Will stood and walked to the front windows and blew his nose again and wiped his eyes. He came back and sipped at his coffee, using it as a prop to avoid saying anything.
“We understand a little of what it’s been like, Will,” Maria said. “We lost our firstborn when he was just a year old. It was the greatest shock of our lives, before or since. I cried for a week. I came close to doing something terrible. A good friend helped Miguel and I through it.”
They talked for another hour, then the coffee went cold and Maria reminded them it was a school night. Will gathered up Helen and Charlie and went out to the car.