Stroh sipped at his coffee. “May I sit down?”
“Free country, in places and for some people.”
Stroh sat down. “How long are you going to pout?”
“As long as it takes. After this, when we get a ride to the party, we damn better get a ride home from the party.”
“Almost always works that way. Okay, twice we had a no-fly. It had to be. I fought for you right up to my retirement on it both times. I lost. I don’t have the clout of the Secretary of State or the President and his advisors.”
Murdock finished his three-egg omelet and hash browns before he looked up. “Just don’t expect any good fishing trips.”
“I won’t. I’ll plan to be there when the fishing’s at its best. Good news. We don’t have a damn thing on the fire that you guys can help us with. Unusual, but that’s the way it happens.”
“Good. I need to do some retraining.”
“Hey, I let you go with the Bull Pups, didn’t I? How did they work?”
“Good. You’ll see my after-action report, which I’m writing as soon as I can find a computer. This is your price. You get us six more Bull Pups before our next outing. Bribe somebody, pay double for them. We want six more of the prototypes. Best damn weapon I’ve seen in twenty years of shooting. Those damn proximity fuzed twenties saved our asses more than once.”
“It’s impossible to get any more. They don’t even have prototypes to test at the factory.”
“Bribe somebody. Get them made. We need them in three weeks. They can turn them out if you put on enough pressure. We practically keep H&K in business.”
“Okay, I’ll try. Not promising.”
“You already promised.” Murdock pushed back from the table. Stroh beat him to his feet.
“Don’t think it would be a good idea for you to show up at our assembly compartment. Some of the guys are not wildly enthusiastic about your hide.”
“Oh, yeah.” He watched Murdock. “Are you and I okay on this now?”
“No. After the burial at sea tomorrow, I want you to write the letter to the mother of Torpedoman Third Class Les Quinley, twenty-two years old. You get to tell her about the tragic accident that happened on the carrier and explain what a fine sailor he was and an outstanding person. Just lie like hell. Give it to me and I’ll put it on my stationery back in Coronado and sign it. Least you can do.”
Murdock walked away, leaving Stroh with his mouth open in surprise.
Murdock checked in with the men. Senior Chief Dobler walked over. He grinned.
“Hey, Commander. Sent my wife Nancy two E-mail letters this morning. My leg even feels better, and I hear that we’re going to be heading home before long. Right? The men are asking.”
“We get Canzoneri out of the hospital, take care of the burial at sea, and then we make the arrangements. So take a day or two off and relax.”
“Oh. Guess I’m kind of anxious to get back and see Nancy. I bet she’s doing fine and all. You know. I get worried about her.”
“I know. We should be out of here within three days, but don’t tell the men yet. I’m fighting with Stroh about chopping off our Sea Knight pickup when we finished the job.”
“Hell, Skipper, we made it out. He was just following orders.”
“Don’t get me started on that subject. Those damn orders cost us a man KIA. Quinley would not have been hit if they lifted us out of there when they were supposed to.” Murdock turned and walked away. He came back a minute later.
“Sorry, Chief. It still bugs me. How are the men doing?”
“Weapons all cleaned and ready to go. Restocking our vests with basic ammo and gear. We’ll be cleaned up here in an hour.”
“Our liaison, Lieutenant Commander Kenney. Has he been around?”
“No sir, but he called. Left a number.”
Murdock called Kenny. “Yes, Commander, good to talk to you, too. I need your help on a few small matters. What are the carrier’s regs on a burial at sea, and how do we set it up for tomorrow?”
“I’ll find out, Commander, and get back to you soonest. Anything else?”
“Transport back to the States for my platoon.”
“Mr. Stroh will handle that. I’ll take any excess ammunition or ordnance you have, equipment, that sort of thing. Didn’t I bring you some extra H&K MP-5s?”
“You did. Senior Chief Dobler will talk to you about that. He should be about ready to turn all of that over to you.”
“Good. I’ll find out about the burial. Sorry about your man. In this line of work that sometimes happens. I’ll have something for you on this right after lunch.”
Murdock thanked him and said good-bye.
He stared at the phone. He knew that Chief Dobler had Don Stroh’s number. He waited a half hour, then called.
“Stroh. Sometime tomorrow morning we should have the burial of Les Quinley. Shortly after that I want to take off for the States. Please arrange our transport and have a COD on deck for our first leg to Panama or wherever we can get some land-based aircraft. Let me know if you can’t make these arrangements. I’ll let you know about the ceremony.”
Stroh said he would get on it. “About this morning.”
“What was said, was said. Let me cool off for a week or two, then I’ll be able to look at the whole thing with a little better perspective. I won’t hold still for my men getting killed. We can talk later.”
Murdock hung up.
29
Murdock eased into his chair behind his small desk in his office at SEAL Team Seven, Third Platoon, in Coronado, and tried to relax. It had been a series of good flights home. He even caught some sleep.
As soon as they landed at North Island U.S. Naval Air Station late the night before, he and his four wounded men went to Balboa Naval Hospital to be checked over. They kept Canzoneri, not liking the way the knife slash on his left thigh looked. Fernandez was admitted. The doctors looked over his medical records that came with him and told Murdock it would be at least two weeks before they could think about releasing him.
“That chest wound isn’t right. We may have to go in and find some more of the shattered round.”
The doctors there checked and rebandaged Murdock’s wrist and Dobler’s thigh and Jaybird’s arm and released them.
It was nearly 0400 by the time they got to the base and put away their combat gear.
“I’m bunking out here until morning,” Dobler said. “I don’t want to charge home and scare Nancy and the kids. Tomorrow morning will be better.”
Murdock said he’d be in about noon and headed for his apartment. When he pulled in his parking space, he saw a light in his front window. He grinned. No burglar, this one. Murdock ran up the steps and used his key on the door. Inside, he dropped his small bag and checked the living room couch.
A long bundle wrapped in a blanket lay there. It was topped by a frowsy pile of blond hair. Murdock tiptoed to the couch, knelt beside it, and pushed the blanket back enough to kiss a pink nose.
Ardith Manchester smiled in her sleep and turned so he found her lips. He kissed them and they responded. Her arms came out of the cover and wrapped around him.
“Ha, bet you thought I was sleeping.”
He kissed her again and she leaned back. “About time you showed up. You were scheduled in here at 1600 yesterday.”
“We had an equipment delay in Miami.” He shook his head. “How in hell did you know our flight schedule?”
She grinned at him.
“I know, but tell me anyway. You’ve joined the CIA.”
“Nope.” She kissed him quickly and chuckled. “This one you won’t believe. Dad knew about your mission and followed it. Then he remembered that he had been in school with the captain of the aircraft carrier Jefferson. They got in touch.”