Tombstone let it pass, but filed it away for later investigation.
“Captain Ed Henry,” a man in garish shorts said. For a split second, Tombstone wondered just why it was that the most senior officers seemed compelled to don such gaudy gear. “Coast Guard. Ship driver. I’m assigned here.”
In short order, the other members of the team introduced themselves. They included every specialty ranging from satellite communications to a SEAL lieutenant who’d been on vacation in Hawaii when everything broke loose. It was the SEAL officer who confirmed Tombstone’s conclusions about the SEAL squad now in place.
“That would be third squad of SEAL team seven,” the lieutenant said. “I know their guy — Murdoch.”
“Is he dependable?” Tombstone asked.
The lieutenant let out a short, sharp bark of laughter. “I think that would be understating it by a factor of ten, Admiral. That is, unless you’re the sort of officer who insists on doing things by the book.” From his tone of voice, the juniormost officer in the room made clear his opinion of that particular type of officer.
The junior officer’s directness amused Tombstone. To be so young, so cocky — had he been like that himself at that age?
“Will you fill us in on this special squad,” Tombstone said, “so were all reading off the same page?”
“Glad to, sir. SEAL team seven is based out of Norfolk and comes under Group Two. Squad three is — ” He hesitated, and glanced around room, then looked to Tombstone for reassurance.
“Everyone here is cleared for specially compartmented information,” Tombstone said. “By my order, as of now. We’ll catch up on the paperwork later.”
The SEAL lieutenant nodded. “Squad three works directly for the CIA,” he said bluntly. “They do things that… well… that maybe we don’t want people to note that we’ve done. Sensitive missions, mostly. In countries around the world. They run through a lot of men, sir. They lose a couple each mission, I’ve heard.”
“What communications will they have with them?” Hannah asked.
“Satellite communications. And believe me, they know how to use their gear. Squad three gets the latest in technology even before we even know about it, and they don’t worry about using it or breaking it. I’m willing to bet that as soon as they heard what was going on, they were talking to their CIA controller. And by now, they’ve probably talked to Jefferson unless they’re under orders not to.”
“Why would they be under orders not to?” Tombstone asked, a trace more sharply than he intended. “This is a full joint operation.”
“I don’t know, sir. I’m just saying it’s a possibility.”
The last member of the party was the Air Force master sergeant who had been attempting to coordinate transportation requirements with the officers in the club. Tombstone had drafted him immediately as an ad hoc member of the new battle group. As a full extent of the operation became apparent, Tombstone could see that would have taken a crow bar to separate the Air Force master sergeant from his new battle staff.
“Fred Carter,” the Air Force master sergeant said. “Logistics — spent some time with KC-135s, sir — and VIP transportation requirements. Mostly that, now,” he said quietly. From the little the master sergeant said, Tombstone had the feeling that there was a good deal more to his career than he was letting on.
“I imagine you could’ve handled that crowd in there on your own, Master Sergeant,” Tombstone said.
The master sergeant nodded. “But I appreciate your help, sir. A collar count always helps. I had directions for my people, but I believe your orders supercede that.”
“Now that we’ve got that straightened out — how do we get out to Jefferson?” General Haynes broke in. “I saw one of those C-2s taking off not long ago. Is there another one on deck?”
“I doubt it,” Tombstone said slowly. “From what I saw, the Chinese were moving to establish air superiority pretty quickly. They’re flying their CAP stations right over the city. The battle group commander out there is a good friend of mine. He’s not going to want ACM over land. And even if he did, I’m willing to bet that he gets guidance not to do so.”
“But we’re not going to just let them have Hawaii,” somebody said. “And establishing air superiority is the first step in winning any battle, right?”
“Yes, but to maintain control of the skies, they’ve got to keep control of the air bases. In this case, the stations on land as well as their ships. Destroy the ships and bombed the hell out of the airstrips ashore, and you’ve got no way to maintain air superiority. Besides, I’m to bet that most of their aviation and munitions are onboard the ships. They’re going to want to be going back and forth to re-arm, even if they do use the fuel depots at our bases.
“But for now, at least the short run, they own the skies. So I suspect that C-2 was the last American aircraft coming or going from the island for a while.”
“So we go by ship,” the Coast Guard officer said. “That should be fairly easy to do.”
“Yes,” Tombstone said, “except for the fact that most of our fleet that was in port is probably either damaged or already under way.”
“I wasn’t suggesting a military ship, Admiral. There’s a large compound lot just south of the Navy base — private watercraft we’ve seized for possible forfeiture for drug operations. They’re not going to be able to cover every bit of the island immediately. I’d bet we won’t have a problem getting into the forfeiture shipyard and getting out.”
Adding the Coast Guard officer had been a judgment call. For the most part, he didn’t possess the areas of intelligence expertise that Tombstone was looking for. Yet, as a service, the Coast Guard was probably more used to doing everything with less than any other service in the U.S. inventory. They faced shortages of assets, personnel, and just about everything else, too. Tombstone had taken a gamble that the Coast Guard officer would have some excellent suggestions. Besides, this one was a surface warfare officer, and would have served on the larger Coast Guard vessels. Since the island had major Coast Guard facilities on it, as well as personnel familiar with the waters in area, it seemed like a logical choice.
“You can get us in there?” Tombstone asked.
The Coast Guard officer smile slightly. “No problem.”
“All right, then, Coastie,” Tombstone concluded. “You’re in charge of shore to ship movement. Let’s get going before they seal the base off completely.
An hour later, the eleven officers walked down the pier surveying the impounded boats, looking for one that suited their purpose. The Coast Guard officer had the final call. “That one,” he said, pointing at a luxurious cruiser with blue trim. “Furuno radar and it looks like she probably carries a fish finder. Sonar,” he added, seeing the puzzled expressions on a couple of faces.
“What do we need a sonar for? And a lot of good sonar will do us without torpedoes,” one officer said.
Captain Henry shook his head. “Almost anything can be a weapon, if you think enough about it. Besides, I’m not saying that there are submarines involved, or if there are, that we’ll find them. But it pays to be prepared for every possibility, don’t you think? Would you mount an operation like this without submarine support?”
The more Tombstone heard from the Coast Guard officer, the more he liked his style. “So what are you suggesting, Commander?”
The Coast Guard officer led the way to another boat nearby. It was a sharp contrast to the one he’d selected, it was battered and rusted, evidence of years of hard use in every line of her. “This,” he said. “Her name is The Lucky Star. Might be an omen, you think?” He pointed to the aft deck. There were mounds of nets and cables. “I can get a couple of sailors to help us move this gear and to crew our boat.”