“Glad to see you’re back,” Crocker said, squeezing his hand. “Been working out?”
“Yeah, boss, I’ve become a CrossFit fanatic. I missed you guys…”
It meant a lot coming from a man of few words.
“How’s the family?”
Light-haired Davis had a matching blond wife and two young sons. Looked like a family out of a J. Crew catalog, except that the dad was an adrenaline junkie, conspiracy theorist, and secret New Age follower who believed in aliens and communicating with the dead. He was convinced, for example, that Hitler and the Nazis had made contact with aliens.
“Good. All good.”
“Anybody hear from Cal?” Cal was the sniper and sixth member of Black Cell.
Mancini, who had clicked on the TV and was surfing through the channels with the sound muted, nodded.
“He wanted to come, but Doc wouldn’t clear him. Even though he bitched to Sutter, he wouldn’t sign off.” Captain Sutter was the commander of SEAL Team Six and their boss.
Suarez, who was the newest member of the team, handed Crocker a white envelope. “Your wife asked Sutter to give you this.”
“Thanks and welcome. Your family good?”
“Healthy and relatively happy, boss. Praise be to our savior Jesus Christ.”
“You still believe in the virgin birth?” Akil asked.
“You still a Muslim who chases anything with a pair of tits?” Suarez asked back.
“Hoo-ah.”
They banged knuckles and bumped chests.
Inside the envelope was a wallet-sized photo of his daughter, Jenny, and an invitation to her graduation. A reminder that, one, his daughter (from his first marriage) was graduating from high school, and, two, that the ceremony was being held in a week. Crocker didn’t want to miss it. He noticed that there was no accompanying message from Holly.
“You guys staying in one room or two?” Akil asked, referring to Mancini, Suarez, and Davis.
Suarez glanced at Mancini and answered, “Two. He snores and farts so much we gave him his own gas chamber.”
Akil laughed. “Talks to himself, too. Weird shit about making love to computers and robots.”
“You fucking sissies are lucky to associate with me,” Mancini shot back. “Maybe if you listen, some of my knowledge and erudition will wear off on you.”
“What the hell is erudition?”
“Maybe not.” Then, to Crocker, “What’s up, boss?”
“Looks like we might be going into Syria to recover some WMDs.”
“I figured Syria might be on the agenda. You got details?”
“Hopefully we’ll get them later tonight.”
Mancini slapped his hands together. “I’m ready to get it on!” Then, nodding toward the others, “Not sure about these jerk-offs.”
“Bring everything you’ve got, I’ll bring it ten times stronger,” said Akil.
“Really, Akil? Really? What are you bench-pressing these days? You up to a buck-fifty?”
“You know what they call muscle-bound guys in tight shorts who like to hang in the gym together?”
Mancini got in his face. “What? You really think you’re ready?”
Suarez: “Get a room, guys. Work it out.”
Akil tossed a pillow at Suarez that missed his head and knocked over a lamp on the desk where Crocker was sitting, studying some of the reports Janice had given him.
Crocker barked, “Come on, Akil. What are you, five years old?”
“It’s Manny’s fault.” To Mancini: “Don’t you know that all the self-improvement shit isn’t good for you? You need some primal rage.”
“Believe me, brother, I got plenty of that.” Then, to Davis: “You might want to buy some Clairol and die your hair black. They eat blonds like you for dinner in this part of the world. Which reminds me…This is a great restaurant city, and I’m famished. Anybody up for dinner?”
“First intelligent thing you’ve said,” Akil responded.
The first time he’d seen Holly, almost fifteen years ago, he was struck by her poise and physical beauty. He remembered thinking she seemed like a perfect partner-smart, friendly, attractive, and fit. It had happened at an ST-6 picnic at a teammate’s house. She stood next to a teammate’s wife, holding a glass of wine. The sun glanced off her cheekbones and highlighted the waves in her long, auburn hair. Though he later heard that her marriage to her first husband (also a member of ST-6) was on the rocks, she looked completely in control of herself and happy.
He had lost sight of her for a few minutes in the smoke from the barbecue, then she was miraculously by his side, smiling at two-year-old Jenny. Almost too close for comfort. In proximity, her effect on him was even more powerful. Big blue eyes that were both intelligent and kind, a fit, womanly body stylishly adorned in a tight light-blue T-shirt and matching checkered shorts.
“Sweet girl,” she said, referring to Jenny. “How old?”
“I’ll let her tell you.”
Jenny held up two fingers. “Two and a half.”
“Really? What’s your name?”
“Jen-ny.”
“Pretty name.”
Later he’d seen Holly around the neighborhood and at other ST-6 functions. Heard she was a good mother and a decent athlete, including serving as captain on a women’s championship rowing team.
Six years after that, after Crocker’s first wife moved out, he dated for two years-an Australian skin diver, a Hispanic FBI agent, an anesthesiologist who was into rock climbing. He was starting to think about settling down again when one of the ST-6 wives informed him that Holly and her husband had split up. She suggested that the two of them might like to keep each other company.
They met at the Starbucks in the Red Mill Commons. He felt awkward at first, discussing his training for an upcoming Ironman competition and thinking that he was boring her, but she quickly put him at ease. She knew the SEAL life and the kind of people who were attracted to it. She explained that she had left her husband because of his drinking problem, which had led to abusive behavior and infidelity.
She said, “He refuses to deal with his personal problems, and I couldn’t put up with them anymore. It’s as simple as that. I wish him well. It’s time to move on.”
Crocker, who still felt bad about his first marriage, appreciated her no-nonsense practicality. His ex-wife was someone who could never decide what she wanted and was therefore impossible to please. She’d hated it when they were assigned to a base overseas, then didn’t want to leave. She wanted a child, but didn’t enjoy being a mother. It had driven him crazy. Holly seemed more solid emotionally and mature. They got together for coffee a few more times, then started dating.
It was so natural, because they liked the same things-being outdoors, working out, movies, and quiet restaurant dinners. After three months of dating, he moved in with her and her teenage son, Brian. When they discovered that Brian was taking and selling drugs, Crocker sat the kid down and tried talking sense into him. Brian started to take school seriously and seemed to be getting his life together when, one night, he was shot by a drug dealer friend, and slipped into a coma.
As horrible as the situation was, Holly dealt with it with incredible strength and dignity. When Brian’s brain and body started to swell because of damage to his spine and internal organs, the doctors told her that they had to unplug the respirator that was keeping him alive. She sat with Brian and held his hand when the doctors pulled the plug. He couldn’t imagine the pain she was in, but she handled it amazingly well. Her values were solid: God, country, family.
Crocker’s love and admiration grew. She became his rock-the partner who made his life fuller and more fun, and made everything work.
The first crack in her confidence came two years ago when she and a DS colleague were kidnapped while doing an embassy security survey in Libya. She was held for three days and forced to watch her male colleague being tortured and killed. She was still recovering from that trauma, a year and three months later, when cartel gunmen planted a bomb at their house. Holly had just driven Leslie Ames and Jenny back from a soccer tournament in Richmond. Leslie died in the explosion, which also lodged shards of glass and wood in Holly’s liver.