He was dressed in a dark gray business suit and white shirt. His hair was dark brown, cut short, with a few streaks of gray at the temples. He was forty-three years old, nearly 6’ tall, and still in good shape.
The life he’d known for years suddenly changed dramatically when his father died. Taking over the family business so early hadn’t been in his plans. He resented having to leave a life he’d known for so long, his life serving in the Navy. The only saving grace was the possibility of still being somewhat involved in a life he missed. It had all hinged on Grant Stevens’ answer.
Garrett took a sip of coffee as he hooked his index finger in the knot of a blue and white paisley tie, pulling side to side until it loosened.
Hearing a door slam, he came from around the bar. For months he’d been anticipating this reunion.
Adler swiveled around. “Can’t wait for this!” he laughed, wiping his mouth with a small napkin.
With a broad smile and outstretched arm, Garrett said, “Hey, Grant!”
Grant snapped a quick salute, as he hurried across the room. He grabbed Garrett’s hand, pumping it enthusiastically. “Jesus, Matt! It’s great to see you!”
Garrett laughed, “I wasn’t sure how you were going to react.”
“Why would you think that?” Grant asked as he slipped off his jacket.
“I’m the one who got you into all of this!”
Grant glanced at Adler. “Guess Joe didn’t tell you.”
“Huh? Not sure what you mean.”
“It’s in our DNA, Matt!” He slapped Garrett on the side of his shoulder. “Listen, I think we’re ready to get this show on the road. First, I’ve gotta change.” Grant pointed to Garrett’s suit. “Will you be traveling in style or something more comfortable?”
Garrett walked over to the couch and picked up his suit bag and satchel. “Give me five.” He rushed off to a bedroom, saying over his shoulder, “We’ll talk on the way to the airport! Plus, you’ve gotta fill me in on our intended route.”
Heading for the bedroom, Grant just shook his head, still totally surprised.
Ten minutes later, as he was coming into the living room, the phone rang. He hurried to answer it.
“Stevens.”
“Grant! Glad I caught you. I’m faxing some new satellite photos as we speak.”
Grant motioned to Adler, “Joe, check the fax. They’re coming across now, Scott. Listen, you know how much we appreciate your help on this.”
“I’m still waiting for that name, Grant. Keep the phone lines open aboard the Herc!”
“Thanks, buddy.”
“Godspeed, my friend.”
As Grant hung up, Adler brought him the copies. They started looking through them, when Garrett came back into the living room. He’d changed into a pair of black jeans, black T-shirt and was carrying the satchel. “Let’s get this show on the road!”
“Yeah, you’re right!” Grant responded with a grin.
It was time to head out, time to get the mission started. He turned around seeing the team, gathered near the hallway, waiting for him to give the word. “Let’s move.”
Without hesitation, voices responded in unison: “Hooyah!”
Chapter 5
Breaking through a layer of clouds hanging over Tokyo Bay, with the lights of Yokosuka in the distance, the Gulfstream was fast approaching Atsugi. Taking direction from the tower, pilot Matt Garrett adjusted the aircraft's heading, speed and altitude.
Approaching the airport ahead of the Gulfstream, a Navy pilot in an F-4 Phantom was practicing nighttime touch and go’s. The aircraft’s wheels barely touched the runway when the pilot went to full power. Afterburners glowed brilliantly as the plane began its steep climb.
The controller in the tower checked that the runway and flight path were clear, updated the Gulfstream with weather and wind conditions, then gave clearance for it to land.
Garrett followed directions to proceed to Hangar 183. As the Gulfstream made the turn toward the hangar, a C-130 came into view with its ramp lowered, waiting for its passengers.
As the engines of the Gulfstream wound down, the co-pilot, Paul Butler, left the cockpit, preparing to open the exit door.
Garrett was flipping switches and going through a checklist. He was about to take off his headset when the controller spoke again. Garrett responded, “Ten four.” He turned in his seat. “Grant!”
Grant dropped his rucksack on the seat, then went to the cockpit. “What’s up, Matt?”
“You’ve got a call in Operations.”
“Oh, shit,” Grant mumbled. “Listen, Matt. I’d like to talk more before we takeoff. We’ve still got years of catching up to do. Meet me aboard the Herc, unless you’ve gotta… ”
“Meet you there. And by the way, Paul and I’ll be here waiting to take you home. I’m just sorry we can’t take you the rest of the way. But I think the flyboys will get you there without a hitch,” he smiled.
“They’ve always come through in the past. Can’t see why this time would be any different!” Giving Garrett a thumb’s up, he turned and went back to the cabin, saying to the men, “Have a call in Operations. Put the gear aboard the Herc then see if you can get something to eat. I think there’s a mini-mart somewhere.”
“I’ll get your gear, Skipper,” Adler said, grabbing the rucksack. “And I’ll bring you some food.”
Grant slapped Adler’s shoulder, then hurried out of the plane, giving his watch a quick glance.
As he jogged to Operations, he thought it could only be one person calling — Scott Mullins. But Mullins had already given him the information before leaving D.C. Maybe he got the operative’s name, or… “Oh, Christ,” he said under his breath. Had something happened to the two SEALs? Grant shook his head, trying to rid the thought. The Team would be up shit creek if the NSA or CIA had lost those men.
He slowed his pace as he neared Operations. He reached for the door handle and glanced back at the C-130. Lights inside the cargo bay illuminated the ramp. Members of the flight crew and the Team were walking up and down the ramp.
Once inside Operations, he swiveled his head, looking for somebody on duty. A petty officer walked through a doorway behind the main desk. Grant walked toward him.
“Can I help you, sir?” Petty Officer Second Class Tyler Clark asked.
Grant removed his wallet from his back pocket, and flipped it open. In one plastic slot was his retired military ID and opposite it was his new card. “Yeah, Petty Officer. I understand there’s a call for me.”
Clark examined both cards, focusing mainly on the Department of State ID, with a color photo and different colored stripes. The stripes indicated Top Secret, White House level clearance. “Oh, yes, sir. Follow me.”
He came from behind the desk and went to a door on the opposite wall. He punched in a code on the keypad and opened the door. “Right in here, sir. Take all the time you need.”
“Appreciate it.” Grant walked in and closed the door.
The windowless room was only ten by thirteen but brightly lit by overhead fluorescents. Both side walls were lined with file cabinets, each with combination locks. A gray metal desk was situated in front of the long wall. Side by side on the desk were two phones: one red, one black. Behind the desk a metal table held a “scrambler.” The special machine was used to send high-speed spurt transmissions at eight thousand words per minute.
Grant went to the desk and turned around the red phone. He picked up the receiver, then punched a yellow blinking button.
“Stevens.”
“Grant, it’s Scott.”
“What have you got for me, Scott?”