The SEALs and parafrogs frequently trained together, both in Taiwan and back in the States, at Coronado and elsewhere, but this time around the visit was not about training. "My orders," Morton said, handing Tse a packet of documents.
Tse gave a slight bow and gave them only a cursory examination. "We have been waiting for your arrival. You have heard the news?"
"About the missile attack at the Taipei airport? Yes."
"Beijing has issued an ultimatum. We are to send them a delegation to begin negotiations for formal reunification."
"What's the 'or else'?"
Tse's brow crinkled. "Pardon?"
"What happens if you don't comply?"
"Ah! That is not stated. However, it hardly needs to be, yes? Taipei has, of course, refused."
"Let's get my men to their quarters, Commander. Then we can talk."
"Of course. This way, if you please?"
Lieutenant Reese called the company to attention. They then reshouldered seabags and began walking single file toward a trio of trucks waiting in the twilight.
First Company, SEAL Team Three, was on its way to war.
Garrett walked up to the apartment foyer and pressed the three-button number on the telephone keypad. A moment later a woman's voice answered the phone. "Moshe-moshe!"
"Kazuko? It's me!"
"Tom? Let me buzz you in!"
The inner door lock buzzed as he hung up the phone. He pushed through and made his way to the elevator.
It was a western-style apartment, but there were still two pairs of shoes by the mat outside the door. One of Kazuko's roommates must be home. He knocked.
The door opened and Kazuko's smile greeted him, warm radiance and sunshine. "Tom!"
"Konichi-wa, Kazuko-san! Nani yatteta-no?"
"Betsu-ni," she replied, then giggled. "Your accent is still atrocious, you know."
He sighed. "You'll just have to keep working on me, I guess. Are you going to invite me in?"
"Of course. Come in!"
Stooping, he untied his shoes and left them and his socks outside.
"You know we don't have the apartment to ourselves tonight," she told him as she shut the door at his back. "Yukio is in town."
Kazuko shared the apartment with three other women. All were flight attendants with JAL, and it was always a crapshoot as to how many of them would be home on a given evening or weekend.
"I know." He looked around the living room — tidy and minimally furnished. "Where is she?"
"In the bedroom, to give us a bit of privacy. Your phone call sounded urgent. What's the matter?"
"First, I need a hug."
She slipped into his arms, smelling of lavender and warmth. Kazuko Mitsui was the best thing that had happened to Garrett since his being stationed at Atsugi. Born on Okinawa, she'd moved with her parents to California when she was three, growing up in San Francisco and attending college at USC before moving back to Japan. She was a natural linguist, speaking perfect and colloquial English, as well as Cantonese, French, and a bit of Russian.
He'd met her one afternoon a year ago, while visiting the shrine at Kamakura with its huge, ancient, carved Buddha. A walk together had turned into coffee… then dinner. She'd done a lot since then to heal the wounds Claire had left in his soul, though finding privacy with so many roommates was sometimes a bit difficult. More than once he and Kazuko had settled for a hotel room, avoiding the so-called Japanese "love motels" that charged by the hour, for something a bit classier and more romantic… like the Kamiseya Holiday Inn.
"I…I got new orders today. Sea duty."
Her eyes widened and she drew back. "No! I thought you were going to be at Atsugi for at least another year!"
"I thought so, too. And I should be back at Atsugi afterward. They're sending me out just for the one mission, as a kind of expert, I guess."
"How long?"
"I don't know. At least a few weeks. There's no way to know."
"No, I mean how long before you go?"
"Tomorrow night."
She hugged him close again. "Well, we knew it would happen."
"It's not like this is the end for us. You know?"
"Of course not. But… well, it's been good having you so close." She held him for a long moment more. "Tom?"
"Yes?"
"Is this… does it have to do with what's happening in Taiwan?"
"You know I can't talk about it, one way or the other."
"I know. But if there's going to be shooting, I just… well, I want to know."
The need for tight security was an integral part of the way Garrett thought and acted, as much as the need for air or human companionship. Submariners never talked about their jobs with others, and his stint with the ONI had only reinforced that bedrock instinct. He'd been officially questioned several times about Kazuko; there were those within the intelligence community who got nervous about fraternization with non-Americans, especially since the War on Terrorism had begun. He trusted Kazuko absolutely, in a way he hadn't even with Claire…but he still kept the operational details to himself. Always.
"You know there's always a chance of shooting," he told her gently. "Especially these days. That's part of the territory with the service, to go in harm's way, right?"
"I guess so. I don't have to like it."
"I don't either, but it goes with the job."
"You'll be careful?"
"Hey. Submariners are nothing but careful. The idea is to stay so quiet no one even knows we're there."
She managed a sad smile. "I know. I'll be thinking about you."
He thought it best to change the subject. "Have you eaten?"
She nodded. "Before your call. But I wouldn't mind going someplace quiet where we can be together. When do you have to be back at the base?"
"Oh seven hundred tomorrow."
"Would you like… to get a room?"
"I already called the Holiday Inn."
"Let me get my overnight bag."
"You do that."
Much later he lay with her in bed, feeling her gentle breathing in the darkness, feeling her warmth, smelling the sweet musk of their lovemaking. He'd been unwilling to sacrifice his career for Claire. Kazuko, though… his need for her seemed deeper, sweeter, more powerful every time he was with her. Was it time to move on to another career, he wondered, something more settled that would allow him to enjoy what he had, what he could have with this woman?
He didn't know.
But he knew he'd never known such peace as when he was in her arms.
8
"Commander Thomas Garrett, reporting aboard, sir."
He stood in the narrow doorway leading into the captain's office, a cramped space at best, even aboard a modern Seawolf-class boat, tucked away next to the captain's quarters off the main forward passageway. Captain Lawless was squeezed in behind his small desk, on which a laptop computer was perched. Opposite, a master chief in khakis, a burly man in his fifties with a crisp mustache and eyes that missed nothing, leaned back in a chair, cradling a mug of steaming coffee. The mug bore the legend "COB."
Lawless held out his hand, and Garrett passed him the bulky manila government envelope containing his orders and personnel records. The captain unwound the string tie, pulled out the cover sheet, and scanned it briefly. "Okay, Garrett. Welcome aboard." He nodded at the chief. "Master Chief Kevin Dougherty. Chief of the Boat."
"Master Chief."
"Good t'meet you, sir," Dougherty said, reaching across and shaking his hand. "Welcome aboard."