“We need people with the lieutenant’s capabilities and skills. It’s good for the SEALs and it’s good for the Navy.” Hodges knew ordering Duncan to produce a positive endorsement would have just the opposite effect.
“A lieutenant? Kind of late in a career to be switching over to the SEALs,” Duncan observed.
“Yes, it is, but like I said, the lieutenant brings along special skills and meets our high standards.” He looked at his watch.
“Duncan, look, I hate to hold you up, but why don’t you and Rod wait a few minutes more. The lieutenant has a twelve thirty appointment with me. Let me see if I can locate … Wait here. Sit back down. I’ll contact Lieutenant McDaniels.” He stepped back into his office.
He wanted to see Duncan’s face when he met Lieutenant McDaniels.
Petty Officer Gonzales stood and shut the door again for the admiral. Smiling at the two officers, she sat back down and returned her attention to her computer.
“We’re never going to get out of here,” Beau whispered.
“At this rate, we’ll miss lunch, too.”
“Read a magazine.”
“Already have. The ones I haven’t read don’t have pictures.
How come they don’t have Smithsonian or National Geographic or Rolling Stoned Look here, we’ve got Surface Warfare, Navy Times, Jane’s Weekly updates, and the Navy Safety Bulletin. Takes about five minutes to go through all of them and the Navy Safety Bulletin is the most entertaining.
Read the article on motorcycle seat belts. I like the coed part the best.” Beau pulled the settee closer to Duncan, earning a quick look of disapproval from Gonzales over the top of her glasses.
“You going to tell me more or what?”
Duncan relayed what the admiral had said about their mission and showed Beau the tickets and orders.
Beau crossed and uncrossed his legs while his fingers drummed a tattoo on the chair arms. Eliciting no response from Duncan, he said, “I told you I can’t go.” He put his feet down and leaned forward.
“What do you mean, you can’t go? Lieutenant commanders don’t decide when they can go and when they can’t, or even where,” Duncan replied. Neither could Navy captains, apparently.
“Duncan, remember Alisha?” he pleaded.
“It’s taken us three months to arrange tonight. She traded with another stewardess for the New York to Washington run. She’s staying for three days! Three days at my apartment!”
“Beau, you’ll have to arrange another time with her.
Tonight at six, you and I and this lieutenant are going to be at Dulles International.”
Admiral Hodges opened his door and stepped into the room. Duncan and Rod stood.
The door leading from corridor H burst open and a tall female officer with dark wavy brown hair that nearly touched her shoulders strolled, possessively, into the reception area. The door clicked shut behind her. Her snub nose seemed too small for her face and her eyes too far apart, but when she spotted Captain Duncan James and Lieutenant Commander Beau Pettigrew, she smiled. The smile brightened her face, apple green eyes sparkled, and the features of her face melded together to radiate a pixy cuteness. The metamorphosis gave her the feminine look that was missing when she entered. She straightened and ran her hands lightly down her khaki blouse and skirt to smooth any wrinkles. Duncan thought the feet seemed too big, but Navy shoes had that effect. His stomach churned, but he didn’t think it was the brandy doing it. He shut his eyes for a second as a feeling that this week was going to get worse, if that were possible, rushed over him.
Hodges saw what he wanted to see and stepped back into his office, shutting the door behind him. Inside, he chuckled and did a quick two-step as he crossed to his desk to pick up the phone. He had to tell the others. Hodges had no doubt that Duncan would shit can the female for them. And Pettigrew was his ace in the hole. The man’s brains were in his pants. Even if James failed to come through, Pettigrew would do something dumb to settle the issue.
In the outer office, the woman crossed the room to where the two warriors stood.
“Captain James, Lieutenant Commander Pettigrew, Admiral Hodges called and told me I had a chance to meet you before we left tonight,” she said as she shook hands with Duncan and then with Beau.
“I was afraid I was going to miss you.”
“And you are …?” Beau asked as he shook hands with her, his voice trailing off as his eyes roved down to an ample bosom and then quickly back to her face to discover the apple green eyes had turned into apple green daggers.
Thirty-eight D, he guessed, but he kept his eyes up and his guess to himself.
Duncan realized his mouth was open and shut it.
“Sorry, I thought you knew. I’m Lieutenant Heather J. McDaniels. Everyone calls me H. J.” after my first two initials.
I kind of prefer H. J. to Heather. Thanks for taking me along on this exercise. Captain. It’ll be my first since Coronado, but I think you’ll find me up to it, sir.” Duncan recalled where he had heard her name. H. J. was the first woman to successfully complete SEAL training. Navy Times had a big article about her nearly a month ago. He was right, his week had just gotten worse.
“You’re welcome,” he mumbled.
“And I’m having to give up Alisha,” Beau said softly to himself as he compared the Amazon in front of him with the petite stewardess he was leaving behind.
“Sorry, Commander. What was that?” H. J. asked.
“There is one good thing, Duncan,” Beau said as he eased his Triumph TR2 onto the George Washington Parkway.
The wind whipped through Beau’s blond mane, giving it an even more windswept appearance than normal as the small convertible weaved through the traffic toward Reston.
Clouds moved across the sun.
“What’s that?” Duncan asked. The problems with his wife and the Navy intermingled in his thoughts while he half-listened to Beau.
“I remember. It’s Spanish women. Have you ever noticed how Spanish women can look at you with those liquid brown eyes? It’s phenomenal. They can undress you, ravish you, do vile things in your fantasies, throw your clothes haphazardly back on, and by the time they’ve walked past, you’ve been mentally patted on the butt, your knees are watery, and your underwear’s soaked.”
“Don’t you ever think about anything else?”
“Sometimes, like why are they sticking a woman on a Navy SEAL team?” Beau asked, his eyebrows raised.
“I bet that’s a question you’re asking, right?”
“I’m not sure. Beau. It is a training exercise and Admiral Hodges wants her to get her feet wet as soon as possible. You heard him. The Navy wants a positive endorsement on her performance.”
“Well, I’m kind of thick at times, so explain to me why they are sending a full Navy captain on a routine training exercise that any lieutenant could handle. Why are they sending a Navy captain who has been told to go home-no offense, Duncan — overseas when he should be preparing for civilian life? And, what is so damn important that they send me along with you — not that I mind going with you or anything, but I find it hard to add all this up.”
“I don’t know. Beau,” Duncan replied, “but when I have the answers I’ll tell you.” What was the hidden agenda?
Admiral Hodges had bucked the idea of a woman SEAL until Congress and the Department of Defense had steam rolled over him. Yet, he had ordered Duncan to bring back a positive endorsement on her performance. Why would he send her with an angry Navy captain who was being SERBed? Maybe Hodges had burned more bridges than Duncan knew with his strong opposition and now thought that a positive endorsement would rebuild them and further his Navy career. If that’s what Hodges thought, then he was full of it. Duncan had no intention of rubber stamping women into Naval Special Warfare. Admiral Hodges must be stupid or really have a low opinion of him. Duncan shut his eyes. Hodges’s hidden agendas and political wiliness were too much right now for him to try to figure out. He’d think about it later. He ran his hand over his stomach, trying to soothe the fight going on inside it. His thoughts turned to other, more important, problems, like did he have enough clean underwear for the trip?