"If for any reason Douglas is not convicted on these charges, he'll get booted out of the Navy so fast he won't find his ass-end for a month. He never should have been in the Navy in the first place. A goddamned skinhead!"
Murdock went back to his office and got down to the task of building his platoon back to fighting strength. He had wondered when Masciarelli would demand that he install an SCPO and a CPO the way the other platoons had. At least he could pick his senior chief petty officer. He would have to be a top SEAL and a good administrator. Tough to find. He'd work with the master chief. He'd have some ideas.
Men, how many did he have left? Fred Washington, who got wounded on the Kuril Islands, was back at Balboa Hospital and recovering, but the doctors said he probably would not be able to take the physical punishment the SEALs experienced.
How many? Washington out, Doc Ellsworth with the shattered elbow still in Balboa. He wouldn't be coming back. Fernandez was a possibility of making it back. Colt Franklin with his side wound was recovering nicely at Balboa. He'd be back. Ed DeWitt's leg was healing well. He'd been put on a month's medical leave and told to rest and recover at home, or go fishing.
Douglas would never wear the SEAL trident again.
So he needed three new men. Take away one for an SCPO, and he still needed two new SEALs. At least they didn't get anyone killed on the last two excursions. That was a plus.
Murdock reached for his coffee cup and took a gulp. When he looked up again, a familiar figure stood in the doorway.
"Hi there, hero."
"Dad. What are you doing down here?"
Congressman Charles Fitzhugh Murdock smiled at his only son, and came into the room and sat down.
"Coffee?" Blake asked.
His father shook his head. "Just had a cup with your Master Chief MacKenzie. Quite a lad. I just happened to be in San Francisco, so I had them fly down here to see if you were home."
Blake Murdock laughed. "Dad, you knew I was here. I'd bet you knew when we left Seoul and on what flight and when we landed. Good to see you again. How's Mom?"
"She's better all the time. Has a hundred charities she works on. She gets in more hours of work than I do, I think. Saw Ardith last week. She asked about you. She knew where you were and was worried."
"She probably knows I'm home as well. Our nation's security is in total disarray."
"But we're the people who should know where you are. I hear you might just have won the peace over there with your small little band of SEALs."
"We did our part, Dad. I also got two men shot up badly. But when boys play with guns, somebody is bound to be hurt. You have time for dinner, Dad?"
"Wish I did. Duty calls. We landed at North Island. We can talk on the way back over there. I didn't know it was so close to you."
In the Navy staff car usually reserved for admirals, Blake and his fa ther rode back to Coronado, through the small town, and to the closely connected North Island Naval Air Station.
"Had a chat with the Vice President the other day," the Congressman said. "He had many nice things to say about you. You saved his life, you know, and probably prevented a full-scale U.S. involvement. He told me he wants to adopt you."
Murdock laughed. "Sounds like him. He seems like a down-to-earth kind of guy. He cooperated with us well on our brief trip back to the South Korean side."
The big car drove onto the taxi strip and to the far end of the field, where an Air Force business-type jet waited.
"Your mother is looking forward to another leave for you. When will you be coming to Washington?"
"We have a court-martial coming up. Maybe in three months. Maybe next month. I'll have to work it out. First I have to get my platoon pasted back together and into training. Then I'll figure it out."
The Congressman left Blake at the door of the car, told the driver to take the commander back to the Special Warfare base, and hurried out to the jet. As soon as he went up the steps, they were pulled in after him and the sleek jet revved its engines and rolled down the runway.
Murdock grinned as he leaned back in the leather seat and enjoyed feeling like an admiral for three and a half miles. Then he went back to work, laying out his platoon, deciding what specialists he needed to complete his team. Wondering about an SCPO.
His phone rang.
"Third Platoon, Murdock."
"Hi, will you be home on time? I want to know when to start the baby-back ribs I have ready to broil. I know how you like them and I found this new barbecue sauce you'll love and…"
"Ardith?"
"You expected maybe your first wife in your apartment?"
"I've never had a first wife. How in the world?"
"I know just about everything you do, Commander. Has your father left yet?"
"You are a magician, a Merlin, a wonder. No, I won't be home on time. I'm leaving in about a minute. Start the ribs anytime you want to — no, maybe you better wait to start the ribs."
"I like the sound of that. Hey, hurry home. I'm sorry about Fernandez and Doc Ellsworth. At least you didn't get anybody killed these two times. We can talk when you get here."
"Yeah, we will. How did you know about…" He shook his head. "Never mind, I'm on my way."
He stopped at the Quarter Deck for just a minute to talk to Master Chief MacKenzie.
"Commander, I have a list of three men you might want to look over one of these days for your SCPO. All good men, all with the rate. I like one of them better than the other two, but I won't tell you which one that is. We'll see you tomorrow, Commander?"
"Not sure. I may take a day of sick leave."
"Thought you might, lad. And be saying hello to Ardith for me."
Murdock took a step back. "How did you know…" He shook his head. "I have too many mysterious people of magical powers around me. I think I better leave before I really get myself into trouble. I'll see you when I come over the Quarter Deck, Master Chief. Good night."
It was less than a mile to his apartment. He drove with a nervous excitement he hadn't felt in weeks. Twice he made himself go slower. When he turned into his parking spot in the condo lot, he saw a flash of white at his window on the second floor. He parked and ran up the steps,
"Hi, sailor," Ardith Manchester said as he pushed open the door. He sucked in a breath just looking at her. Tall, long blonde hair halfway to her waist, maybe 120 pounds soaking wet. So svelte and beautiful it made him ache.
"Hi there, pretty lady."
They walked toward each other, and he reached out and kissed her lips without touching the rest of her. She whimpered and caught him with her arms and held him tightly. Her chin went on his shoulder, and she let out a long-held in breath
"I pray for this day never to end," she whispered, not really knowing if she had said it out loud or only thought it. He picked her up, carried her to the living room couch, and let her down gently and sat beside her.
"Hey," she said.
"Hey."
"I'm so glad that you're back, so… so glad." She brushed her hand over her eyes. "I'm not saying things right. Not doing…" She clung to him then, her face hard against his chest.
"Just want to sit here and hold you, and hold you… Oh, God, you're home. I… I died a hundred times. Every time I heard about you going in to the Islands or going into North Korea. Five or six times. I yelled at them, I screamed, and my secretary came rushing in twice. I told her what I was doing and we cried together. Girl stuff. Oh, damn."
They sat there, neither saying a word.
"I know, I know, I know. I shouldn't have found out where you were and what you were doing, but I couldn't stop myself. My dad knew and got reports, sometimes daily. What he knew, I soon knew. I'm not sure if I got much work done for him those days."
She pushed back from him and stared hard at his face. "Sometimes I wonder why I'm doing this. Is it worth all the agony, the worry, the pressure? Then I look at your picture, and remember all the marvelous days and nights we've spent together, and I'm sure that it's worth it."