Выбрать главу

“Oh, yes, Orions.

They used the Sandeman emblem for their squadron.” He smiled, revealing a bright set of teeth.

“Oh, well, mari posita we can never go back to the past. It’s never the same. You can never go back. One must always move on.”

“Jesus, you have any white sugar?” Beau interrupted, holding the unopened packet toward Alcontira.

“Oh, shut up. Beau,” said Duncan, pouring himself a second cup of hot, black coffee.

“Sugar’s bad for your teeth.”

“Your father? He is still in the Navy?” Alcontira asked.

“No, he died two years ago in the States.”

“I am so sorry.” He reached in his other pocket, extracted a packet of white sugar granules, and exchanged them with Beau. He regained eye contact with H. J. Duncan wondered if the mess specialist had a bucket of cold water in the galley. He guessed he should say something in Spanish so the two would know he spoke the language and was following their conversation. But then, he thought, what the hell! “I know what it means to lose a father. Mine, too, died last year. It remains in here,” he said, touching his chest.

“One never forgets; one learns to live with it.”

“Don’t be sorry. He enjoyed and had a full life. Took sick one afternoon and was dead by nightfall. He went the way he would have wanted to go. Quick and without a lot of fuss.”

“I apologize. Lieutenant, if I seem mesmerized. It is just that in Spain we do not have women in our military and to find one in the United States Navy SEALs is quite … how do you say, a shock?” Jesus replied, switching to English.

“It’s still a shock to Captain James and Commander Pettigrew,” H. J. responded, also in English.

“It is not,” said Beau, glancing over his shoulder as he played with his coffee.

“She was going to participate in the exercise,” Duncan said.

“I think Captain James believes he’s in the hot seat for this one,” H. J. said.

“In fact. Major, it is I who have to prove myself, as every person who becomes a SEAL must do.”

“I understand that you and your team are being airlifted off the Nassau this afternoon to return to Spain?” Duncan asked.

“Yes, Captain James,” Alcontira replied, reluctantly taking his eyes off H. J. He picked up his coffee and took a small sip.

“Unfortunately, with the events in Algeria, my government has asked that we return immediately. The antigovernment riots in Morocco and the unrest in Algeria affect Spain’s interests very much.”

“I understand, Major. I wish my bosses had told me.”

Duncan paused a moment.

“Major, how long have you known that you were to return to Spain?”

“Two days ago they canceled the exercise and asked for us to return.”

“Damn. Sorry, Major. It’s just that I was ordered out here two days ago.”

“Perhaps they did not know the exercise was canceled.”

Duncan took a sip.

“Oh, knowing Admiral Hodges, I doubt it.”

Captain Carter entered and held the door to the briefing room open for two other captains.

“Attention on deck!”

Everyone in the room snapped to attention.

The commodore walked to the head of the table before he responded, “As you were, please. Sit down.”

The other captain took the seat to the left as the commodore wiggled his ample bottom into the green armchair at the head of the table.

“That’s Captain Ellison, the commodore, at the head of the table. The captain to the left is Captain Farnfield, commanding officer of the Nassau. Hope you went to the head before you came in,” Mike Sunney whispered.

Everyone sat down to the rustle of shifting chairs, with the exception of several junior officers, who leaned against the bulkhead because of the lack of seats.

“Welcome aboard. Captain James,” the commodore said after the noise of seating faded.

“I’m Commodore Frank Ellison of Amphibious Squadron Two. Glad to have you aboard.” Ellison pulled a decanter over and poured himself a glass of water.

“There, that should do it,” he said to no one in particular.

Then returning his attention to Duncan, he said, “Captain James, I don’t need to tell you that things are a bit hairy in Algiers. I’m glad you’re here as there is a significant possibility that we will need you SEALs. When I told Bill Hodges the other day how things were heating up over here he promised us a hotshot captain with evacuation and hostage rescue experience. That’s not to say that Mike Sunney is doing a bad job. Far from it. Fine man. Fine young officer, I must say. But, we both know there’s no substitute for experience.”

Duncan leaned forward.

“Commodore, how long ago did you talk with Admiral Hodges?”

“Let me think. Captain. Yes, it would have been Sunday.

About four days ago.”

“Thank you. Commodore,” Duncan replied, leaning back. The next time he saw Bill Hodges he was going to rip the admiral’s lips off.

“We’ve been in transit since day before yesterday. Other than CNN Headline News and a day-old copy of a USA Today newspaper, that’s all we’ve heard or seen concerning events in Algeria. I’m afraid that Admiral Hodges lacked the time to brief me on everything before we left. Probably because of the short notice.” It was going to be a short, dynamic conversation when he returned.

“Yeah, and he forgot to brief me, too,” whispered Beau, stirring his coffee a little too fast, causing it to spill over the rim onto the top of the table, earning him a cut-eyed stare from a beefy supply corps commander seated across from him, to whom Beau smiled, threw a kiss, and stirred harder.

“Well, we’ll bring you up to date,” said the commodore, peering over his bifocals at everyone.

“Officers, we have turned the Nassau battle group westward and are steaming toward the Strait of Sicily at a mind boggling speed of six knots. I would prefer to be doing twenty, but European Command has yet to give us permission to pull USS Gearing off its Freedom of Navigation ops. Until we receive permission to stop the FONOPs, we have to remain within fighter coverage of the destroyer while it skirts the Libyan coast. The eight Marine Corps Harriers we have on board the Nassau are the only fighters we have in the Med until the aircraft carrier Roosevelt returns from the Persian Gulf. I have asked Sixth Fleet to intercede for permission to terminate Gearing’s mission.

We need the Gearing with us. The DD-21 class is a battle group by itself. Though I have great confidence in the older Aegis cruiser Yorktown and the destroyers Spruance and Hayler accompanying Nassau, Trenton, and Nashville, I want the modern punch the Gearing brings as aDD-21 and its Network Centric Warfare capability to control the arsenal ship USS King.”

Colonel “Bulldog” Stewart, the senior Marine Corps officer, raised his hand.

“Commodore, have we received any messages other than the one from JCS ordering us to prepare for a noncombatant evacuation operation for our citizens in Algeria?”

“Colonel Stewart, that’s the only one. As you know. Vice Admiral Gordon Cameron was shot during the terrorist attack at Gaeta two days ago. What you may not know is that the wound is not as serious as the press reported. Over secure voice communications this morning. Captain Clive Bowen, Sixth Fleet chief of staff, said they were expecting the admiral back aboard the USS La Sane today. The admiral was shot three times, but the bullets hit him at an oblique angle that resulted in little internal damage. He was one lucky bastard. We should have some direction from Sixth Fleet by this afternoon.”

The commodore paused, took a sip of water, and continued.

“Sadly, a lot of the dead from the attack on the bistro where he was hosting a wardroom social were family members, including the admiral’s and the chaplain’s wife. The Marine who disrupted the attack, stopping the massacre and saving the lives of the survivors, was Colonel Walt Ashworth. I think most of you know him?”