Beau reached in his back pocket and handed Duncan his handkerchief.
“What’s this for?”
“Your cheek.”
“My cheek?” He touched the right side of his face, bringing away a hand bathed in blood. “How did that happen?”
“I have no idea, Captain. It’s not like we’ve been doing anything dangerous.” Duncan the gray handkerchief against the wound. Just what he needed, another scar on his face. He looked down at Beau’s legs and pointed.
Beau didn’t look. “Flesh wound, Captain. Just a damn flesh wound.”
“If it’s a flesh wound, then why the tourniquet?”
“Latest fashion.”
“What happened?”
“I think I stopped some shrapnel from that first Mig run. We were lucky. My leg stopped it before it could damage the boat. I’ve looked. It sliced the pants and the leg, but I’d say the pants look worse than the leg.”
“Sit down here with H.J. and Bud until the helicopters arrive.”
“Sure thing, Captain. Where do you want to sit?”
“I can’t.”
“Then don’t ask me to. Besides, if everyone wounded sat down, there wouldn’t be room for anyone to stand.”
Duncan shaded his eyes as he looked to the north. A silhouette of an EP-3E grew against the clear sky. The black bulbous radar dome beneath its fuselage made it easy to identify. “I think I have a visual on you, Friendly Ranger,” Dun can said into the microphone.
“Roger, Big Apple, stand by for your drop. You can rest a little. Those F/A-18 fighter jocks are your personal combat air patrol until the helicopters arrive. They are taking requests-barrel rolls, combat turns, and formation aerobatics — whatever you need and there are more on their way. One moment, Big Apple.”
A minute passed before the EP-3E aircraft returned to the emergency frequency. “Big Apple, Sixth Fleet wants to know if you have the package you. were sent to retrieve.”
Duncan looked at President Alneuf, who stood with the remainder of the Palace Guards. “Yeah, we have it,” he said slowly. “And it’s in good condition and ready for pickup.”
“Roger, stand by, here we come, but no barrel rolls with this bird.”
The EP-3E roared overhead, its four turboprops vibrating the water carrier. A single Harpoon missile remained under the port wing.
Friendly Ranger had sunk the patrol craft from over the horizon without ever seeing the target. Sneaky bastards — thank God.
Duncan pushed the transmitter. “Friendly Ranger, how did you know which one was the target when you fired?”
“Didn’t, Big Apple, but figured we had a fifty-percent chance of hitting the right one and you said they had the higher profile. Plus, with you sinking, we knew your cross section would be even smaller.”
“Yeah, but what if you had missed and hit us?”
“Well, Big Apple, as you probably noticed, we had a second Harpoon if we had missed.”
The bright orange number-three life raft tumbled from the rear door of the aircraft, inflating as it fell. It hit the sea fifty feet from the water carrier.
“Big Apple, be careful with the life raft. That’s the second one the squadron’s given up in a week and Airlant is looking for someone to pay for them.”
“Tell them to send the bill to me.”
“Don’t say that too loud, Big Apple. One of their budget weenies will hear you and do just that.”
Mcdonald handed his MG to the recovering Gibbons and dove into the water. A half minute later he pulled himself into the orange life raft.
Mcdonald pulled an oar from beneath a panel and paddled the large life raft to the boat. The stern of the water carrier was awash now.
Duncan decided the water carrier would go down quickly when it went and it could go any second. Not the minutes he’d thought they had.
As the life raft bumped the water carrier amidships, Dun can yelled, “Come on, everyone! We’re going home.”
He hung up the microphone and worked his way to where Beau was helping H.J. and Helliwell pull themselves up.
“I guess the Fort Myers officer club will breathe easier now.”
CHAPTER 13
One hour after Duncan and his team were rescued, the evacuation of Algiers began.
“Afternoon, Clive. How’s Captain James and his team?” Admiral Cameron asked his chief of staff as he walked up to the plotting table. Captain Jacobs, the fleet surgeon, had quit shadowing the admiral sometime during the past two days as the Iron Leader rapidly recovered from his wounds.
The low murmur of the officers and sailors manning the blue-lighted staff combat information center filled the background. The intelligence officer, Commander Mulligan, moved around the table to give the two superior officers room to stand beside each other.
“Afternoon, Admiral,” Clive Bowen replied. “Captain James and his team are safely on board USS Stennis confined to medical. The surgeon says everyone has a wound of some sort. Lieutenant Mcdaniels, the woman SEAL, is the most serious, but none of them are critical. That being said, they’ll be in sick bay for a while for their wounds and exhaustion. The N2 on board Stennis is going to start debriefing the team members as soon as the doctors finish their work. It’ll take a couple of hours for the initial story, so I have asked Intell to focus on what happened to Chief Judiah and events surrounding President Alneuf. What we know is that Chief Judiah was killed when he and an Algerian officer blew up a pier to keep attacking rebels from overrunning them.”
“Clive, I want to read the report when it’s done and before it’s transmitted out of theater. Are they going to remain on board the aircraft carrier for the time being?”
“Stennis intends to medevac them to Naples sometime tomorrow.”
“What’s the arrangements?”
“Helo to Sigonella and ASCOMED to Naples. Ambulance will meet them.”
“Good. They’re lucky to be alive. On the subject of President Alneuf, I talked with Admiral Sir Leddermanthompson about twenty minutes ago and asked that the Algerian president and party be transferred to the Stennis. He refused. I still fail to see how they could have done what they did. It’s not like the British. As far back as I can remember, it’s the first time we kept secrets from each other.” He paused. “Well, maybe not the first time, but this is our Navies we’re talking about!”
Captain Bowen agreed. “Admiral, I’m as perplexed as you are. The British split the group apart — SEALs in one helicopter and Algerians in the other. The helicopter with our SEALs airlifted Captain James and team to Stennis; the British flew President Alneuf and his party direct to the HMS Invincible. I followed up your conversation with Admiral Sir Ledderman-Thompson with his chief of staff, a Captain Bat tleton, a few minutes ago. He told me, in a syrupy posh accent that made me think he was looking down his nose at me, that they were honoring a request from President Alneuf for asylum. I told him we also promised Alneuf asylum at his request and we were the ones who sent a rescue team in country.”
Clive ran his hand through his short, wiry gray hair. “Bottom line, Admiral Cameron, is we’re not going to solve this. It’s way above our heads. Our governments will have to iron it out. Captain Battleton concurs. Their hands are tied without further guidance from Cincfleet.”
“That’s bullshit! President Alneuf contacted us for rescue. That weasel played us and the British against each other. Now that Alneuf is safely out of his gone-to-shit country, he’s telling us he wants to go to Britain?” Admiral Cameron asked incredulously. “Who the hell does Alneuf think he is?”
“Yes, sir, I feel the same way, but the CIA agreement was that he could go anywhere he wanted after we got him out. I guess he either took us at our word or wanted to test if we would honor it. Captain Battleton says that MI-5 contacted them and that their instructions came from the highest levels of government. He assures me that the Royal Navy is only acting on orders from their ministry of defense. I believe him.”