After dinner, they left the dishes and pots and made love gently, softly, on the couch in the living room.
“I hear you’ve been a good Navy wife, helping to hold up Nancy Dobler.”
“She’s a sweet lady, a little uptight, but between Maria and me, we have her pretty well in hand. I don’t think she’ll have any more attempts, at least not while we have our little campaign going.”
“Now that Dobler is home?”
“We’ll cut back but still go out with her once a week. Maria and I worked it out. Hey, how is Jefferson? I heard on the news. They’re calling it a hate crime.”
“It’s certain about that. They used the N word and everything. More than two dozen witnesses. Those four bikers are in big trouble.”
“Your boys will get out of it with a fine?”
“Maybe no fine. They were defending the life of their friend.”
“That Janie sounds like a SEAL herself.”
DeWitt laughed. “Yes, she just might be able to do it. From what I hear, she ran a good party.”
She watched him. “Ed, are you happy?”
“Deliciously.”
“I don’t mean right now, just after great sex. Are you happy with us, being this way? Not married. No kids. Do you want a regular relationship and a family?”
“We’ve talked about this before.”
“I know, and I was the one who hung back. The SEAL syndrome, I call it. Women are simply scared out of their minds that on the next mission her man will be the one in the body bag come home for burial.”
“You still worry that way?”
“Absolutely. I wouldn’t be human if I didn’t. After all, people do shoot at you quite often, try to blow you up, sink you, drown you, knife you. I have a hundred damn good reasons to worry.”
“But not obsessed?”
She stared at him. Her pretty face went slack and neutral, for just a moment a hint of a smile flashed in, then it vanished. When it was gone, a slow frown settled around her eyes and mouth.
“Obsessed? No, I don’t think so. Not after seeing what Nancy went through. She actually sliced both wrists and took thirty sleeping pills.”
“Remember, she’s a five-time loser at suicide. Which could mean that she really isn’t that keen on dying. She didn’t slice her wrists that deep, I’m told, and she called nine-one-one herself well before she could die from the pills.”
“So she’s sending a signal, but she doesn’t want to die?”
“I’m no psychiatrist, but that sort of thing has been known to happen. So, you’re not obsessed. Good. Every SEAL in the field is concerned about getting wounded or killed. It’s part of the job description. Asterisk: The body may be subject to any of several kinds of lethal objects entering it, or it may drown or be blown up by enemy fire.”
Milly rubbed the purplish scar on his chest. “Is this hurting you anymore? Did it bother you on the mission?”
“No, doesn’t hurt and didn’t bother me. Back to you. You’re not obsessed, and you’re still here. How about you and I getting pregnant? If it works, then we’ll thrash out the marriage idea.”
Milly’s eyes widened and her mouth opened in a small gasp. She hugged him tightly. Then she sat up. “Oh, yes, darling Ed. Yes, I think so. Right now we throw away our condoms and birth control pills. Hey, maybe tonight we can get pregnant.”
Ed grinned. “Maybe. If we don’t, it won’t be for not trying.”
That same night, Murdock came in from visiting Jefferson. He was feeling better. The surgery was still hurting and the pain medication didn’t quite knock it all down, but Jefferson would make it. He had been cool about the fight.
“Oh, yeah, Cap. I was surprised when those four guys called me nigger and attacked me. Thought that sort of shit was over. Then when the one shot me, I was totally blown away. People don’t do that anymore, I didn’t think.”
Murdock told Ardith about his day and the visit.
“I’m glad he’ll be all right. Now you have two slots to hold open or fill. Hope you don’t get a call any time soon.”
“You said you have three more days. Good. Let’s go rock hunting out in the Borrego Desert. About the farthest place I can think of now from the SEAL operation.”
“Yes, let’s. Oh, I almost forgot. I have a message from your mother. She says she’s ready at any time to help you plan your wedding. Now, I wonder why she’d say that?” Ardith smiled sweetly at him.
“What a sneaky way to get into the subject.”
She kissed him softly on the lips and leaned back. “Darling, I know. But we women are something of brood hens. Every time I see a cute little baby—”
He shushed her. They sat on the couch half watching a movie on TV. It wasn’t that good. At last they turned off the TV and hurried into the bedroom.
“Only three more days. We don’t want to waste any time.”
Murdock had given the platoon a three-day leave. He took one day himself, and they drove into the desert. It was dry, it was mild. They took the ranger’s tour, learned how to survive in the desert and how to find water or at least a liquid if you’re that dry.
The next day, Murdock was working with the master chief, trying to dig up a replacement for Quinley. Murdock had been watching the new Tadpole training classes. The men were getting larger and larger. One SEAL Tadpole was 6' 8" and 285 pounds. He could run the forty-yard dash in 4.5 seconds.
“Master Chief MacKenzie, find me the largest, best SEAL you can. Nobody under six-four.”
Murdock turned around and saw Don Stroh watching him.
“Commander Murdock, get your hat. We have an important meeting in a half hour and barely time to get there. We’ll be gone the rest of the day, Master Chief MacKenzie.”
Murdock hesitated. Hell, Stroh was the connection, the conduit, and the boss. He crooked his finger, Murdock and his platoon jumped. He jumped now.
“Yes, sir,” he said and grabbed his cammie hat and went out the door with Stroh.
The CIA man asked Murdock to change into his civvies, then they drove in a blue Buick that Stroh always rented when he came to town. Murdock swore it was the same one, but it couldn’t have been.
“An assignment?” Murdock asked.
“Not exactly.”
“So what’s so important?”
“Show you soon enough.”
Twenty minutes later, they were over the Coronado Bay Bridge and through downtown San Diego, heading for Los Angeles. Stroh turned off to the left and headed for Mission Bay.
“Fishing?” Murdock asked.
“Fishing. They had a good bite this morning. The man on the desk said they would sail again at twelve-thirty. We have a lot of talking to do, and I owe you a fishing trip. We’ll rent the tackle we need and see if we get lucky.”
“So what are you setting me up for, Stroh?”
“Not sure exactly. We have three hot spots we’re watching. Libya has been making waves lately now that Saddam is gone. But more of that later. I called Seaforth this morning, and they had an unusual bite of yellows. Not big ones, eight to ten pounds, but a good fight.”
Murdock brightened. “A ten-pound yellow can give you lots of trouble.” He paused. “Does this mean I’m speaking to you again?”
“Hope to hell it does. Otherwise, it’s E-mail and telegrams.”
Murdock looked at him. “Ten-pound yellows? You wouldn’t tell a fish story to me, would you?”
“Swear on a stack of five-inch anchovies.” Stroh grinned and looked at Murdock. “Besides, there is also Cuba getting frisky at just the wrong time and at least two Russian-made tactical nuclear weapons of the twenty-megaton variety said to soon be on the market to the highest bidder. We hear it’s a floating sales room, but we don’t know the flag or the size ship or who is sailing her. Gives us a whole group of things to think about.”