"Yes, we shoot a lot. We also rescue people. What is it, three or four emba.s.sies we've gone in and pulled over a hundred people out of the fire. Remember that senator in China where he shouldn't have been and we went up the river in a rubber duck and brought him and his wife and daughter out to safety? Remember all those times, sailor?"

"Yes sir. Some high points. But how many Chinese men did we kill on that mission? Two at the front door, one at the back door, and two inside as I remember. Were that senator and his family worth the lives of five human beings?"

"What about the EAR, Fernandez? You've used it several times to put down the enemy without a casualty. We almost never harm civilians. If somebody's army is shooting at us, we have a right to shoot back. If we shoot better than they do, we win."

"Right. In a fair firefight, I have no big problem. If we have better weapons and take them out, that I can live with. But to go up to a wounded enemy and kill him...that's what's bugging me the most. I know, I know. These are situations where we simply can't leave a wounded enemy behind or it would compromise the whole mission and could mean that half or more of our platoon would wind up in graves registration. I know that. And still it bugs me that we have to make certain on the wounded."

"I can solve that one in the future."

"Not always. There could come a time when I'm the logical one to do it."

"So I take the second most logical person to make sure and we keep moving. Okay, you're off the list for making sure. That should help. You're one of the best men I have, Fernandez. You'll be taking care of the new man in your squad the way you always do. Teaching him what he didn't learn in the six-month training cycle. Who is your new man?"

"He's Second Cla.s.s Electrician's Mate Dexter M. Tate. Looks to be about twenty-two or -three, an inch under six feet and maybe a hundred and eighty-five pounds. He's a nut about free diving on old ships in the ocean and he rides a motorcycle to work. Oh, yeah, he's a computer nut and loves his Bull Pup."

"That's it?"

"Well, we've only talked a few times. Seems like a nice guy. Oh, he isn't married."

"Fernandez, see what I mean? Is there another man in Bravo who knows as much about Tate as you do? Not a chance. You're his sponsor; you'll be there if he needs you. You do one h.e.l.l of a lot more in Bravo than just pull a trigger."

"Oh." He frowned. "Well, maybe so. I never thought much about the other things. Kind of routine."

"Routine, like saving somebody's life. Where was that when you dragged one of your squad out of the line of fire? You took a bullet, but your buddy didn't get killed, and you lived to fight another day, as we say."

"Well, yeah. Somebody had to do it."

"Somebody? There were three others closer to that man than you were. None of them jumped out there to save his a.s.s. You did. Fernandez saw a job that needed doing and he risked his hide to do the job and took an enemy bullet in the process. That's one h.e.l.l of a lot more than just routine." He paused. "You talked with your wife yet about how you're feeling?"

"Not much. I just barely touched on it last night."

"That is a job you have to do."

"I know. She's never said a word about my quitting, but I know she curls up and almost dies every time we go on a mission. It's tough on her. She'd be ecstatic if I quit the SEALs."

"But would you?"

"I don't know. That's what I'm trying to figure out."

"Your wife and your priest, in any order-that's your a.s.signment. You want to take tomorrow off and do it?"

"We're going to the desert tomorrow for some live firing."

"Right."

"I should be there to take a hand with Tate if he needs it. He hasn't done much live firing lately. You know, give him some pointers, some shortcuts."

"You playing papa bear, right?"

Fernandez grinned. "h.e.l.l, I guess so. Just kind of built in. Like the old fire horses would get all revved up when they heard the fire bell."

"Okay. I guarantee you won't have to make sure on anybody tomorrow. It's a one-day trip. Get back late tomorrow night. Be sure to tell Maria that."

"Maybe the wives could have a night out. I'll see what Maria can set up. There's three of them-Ardith, Maria, and Wanda Gardner. I'll talk to Maria about it. A movie, maybe."

"Fernandez, this will clear up, this will pa.s.s. When it does, then you'll have decided if you want to remain a SEAL or go back to the black shoe."

"I'd die of boredom back there. Which might be a good thing for a family man. d.a.m.n few of us married guys in the SEALs. We'll see. Right now I don't know what in h.e.l.l I'm going to do."

"We need to get this cleared up before we have another mission. You know that could come at any time."

"Tell me about it. Usually it's on Maria's birthday or one of the big holidays." He snorted. "d.a.m.nedest thing. I still love it. The rush of getting a mission n.o.body else knows about but the president and two or three other big shots, and then we go jetting halfway around the world to do something that n.o.body else on this old earth can do. Now, that is one h.e.l.l of a rush."

"Stay hard, SEAL. Now get out of here and talk it out with Maria. Let her have her say."

Fernandez came to attention, snapped a salute, did an about face perfectly, and marched out the door. "Hey, maybe I'm getting in some practice in for the black shoe navy."

Murdock waved and looked back at his desk. The d.a.m.n paperwork. It was nearly 1700. He'd look at it in two days. Up early for tomorrow.

Ten minutes later he headed for the new condo in the edge of La Jolla. The traffic wasn't all that bad. He came off the San Diego Bay Bridge on Interstate 5 and headed north. Then through San Diego and out the same interstate to the Grand Street off-ramp, and soon he was in the south end, the lower income part, of La Jolla, just blocks from Pacific Beach. He parked on the street, leaving the a.s.signed underground parking slot for Ardith's car. She usually pulled in about twenty minutes of six.

Upstairs in their condo he checked the phone answering machine. Two messages: "Honey, I'm sorry." It was Ardith's voice. "I'll be a little late getting home tonight. Small emergency I have to fix. I'd think I'll be in about seven. Love you."

The second one was a mortgage company looking for business. He deleted both and checked in the freezer. The Hungry Man super dinner looked about right. He could thaw with the best cooks around. He set it for the seven minutes in the microwave and settled in with the newspaper. He scanned the front page to see if he could see any hint of where they might be heading next. More action in Afghanistan, where they'd routed some more holdouts in caves. A combined Special Forces team found four Stinger anti-aircraft shoulder-fired missiles, over a hundred thousand rounds of rifle ammunition, and hundreds of mortar rounds. The whole ammo dump made a tremendous explosion and sealed the cave. Not much chance of Third Platoon going there.

Iran was heating up again. An American diplomat had been gunned down in usually stable Yemen. Two men on a motorcycle raced up beside the diplomat's car. One man used a submachine gun and riddled the rear seat window and the man inside the car. The attackers sped away, were soon lost in the heavy traffic, and escaped. No one had taken responsibility for the crime at the last report. No, they wouldn't go to Yemen.

He gave up, fished the roast beef dinner out of the microwave, and ate it right out of the plastic tray. Surprisingly, it tasted good and there was plenty of it. He went back to the paper.

Ardith charged in at seven-thirty. She was tall, slender, with a ma.s.s of long blond hair that cascaded over her shoulders. She was the daughter of the senior senator from Oregon and had worked for him in Washington for six years as an a.s.sistant counsel. She came west when she had a job offer she couldn't refuse. Today there were worry lines around her eyes and she slumped against the wall.

"Tough day at the office?" Murdock asked.

Ardith laughed, ran to him, and hugged him soundly, then kissed him and kicked off her shoes. "Yes, Master. A furious day at the office. The client changed his mind, then when we did what he wanted he changed it back to the way we had it in the first place. My boss is taking him out to dinner, but I begged off. So what's new at your zoo?"

"Mostly routine. Oh, Marie Fernandez might be calling you. We'll be in the desert tomorrow and home about midnight. Miguel thought maybe you three could take in a movie or something."

"Sounds good."

"Miguel is having some worries about being a SEAL. He's re-evaluating his job, his career, the whole thing. I think he'll come out of it okay, but you never can tell. I've lost three good men who decided to go back to the black shoe navy. One of them went to officer candidate school, so he doesn't count."

"Miguel, he's been with you a long time."

"Six years. Now what can I thaw out for you for dinner?"

"Anything in there that will get hot. I could eat a horse. Let me get out of these work clothes and dress down a little. Desert tomorrow? You get a new senior chief today?" Murdock nodded. "How do you like him?"

"I think he'll do fine. Doesn't look like Sadler will make it back. He got shot up a little too much. We'll have to wait about four months to see."

He stuffed the chicken breast with broccoli and cherry pie desert into the microwave and set it for five minutes. He turned it on and looked at the paper again. Nothing in the international news that sounded critical. He was about to tune the TV set to CNN when his cell phone chimed. He'd forgotten to turn it off. He flipped the phone open.

"Murdock here."

"Good, I caught you." Murdock recognized the master chief's voice at once. "Sir, we're getting our tails twisted again. I got a direct call from the CNO. He said he had a phone call from the President and the Chairman of the National Security Council and they want your platoon in DC tomorrow afternoon for a briefing at Langley. Something hot is cooking but he wouldn't tell me what. You don't argue with the chief of naval operations. You had an early morning trip to the desert planned for tomorrow. We have you booked on a biz jet for oh-eight-thirty. You're to come in full combat-ready gear, double loads of ammo, and all weapons. No Dragers or wet suits. This sounds like a dry land operation."

"Yes, Master Chief. North Island Air at oh-eight-thirty. Gives us lots of time. Have you talked with Miguel Fernandez lately?"

"No, why, is he in trouble?"

"Not a bit, just wondered. We'll be ready and on board. We have two new men, but they'll have to earn their pay as they learn. We'll let the men check in over the quarter deck at the sched time of oh-four-thirty and take it from there. Any hint where we're going?

"Not a glimmer, lad. Not a Chinaman's clue."

"Right. You sleep in in the morning. We've got the bus on call at oh-five-hundred. See you when we get back. Oh, does Masciareli know yet?"

"I'm about to call him. He's gonna p.i.s.s his pants again."

"Yeah, be good for him. Take care, Master Chief." He took a deep breath. Now he had to tell Ardith they were on call again. She would not be pleased.

5.

Murdock drove into the parking lot outside the Quarter Deck at oh-four-thirty. There were already six SEALs there jawing at each other around their cars. They waved and trooped together across the Quarter Deck and to SEAL Team Seven Third Platoon's quarters.

"Break out your new desert cammies," Murdock told the men. "We won't be going to the desert today; we have a mission, only n.o.body but the president knows what it is."

"How's the time?" Jaybird asked.

"Lots of it. We don't take off from North Island NAS until oh-eight-thirty."

"Time for chow," somebody chirped.

"Yes," Murdock said. "The bus leaves here at oh-eight-hundred. We go ready to fight. Weapons, double ammo, no Drager or wet suits, so we're on a land mission. Fill in the rest of the men when they arrive. Gardner, on me."

Lieutenant (J.G.) Gardner walked with Murdock to the small office and couldn't keep the curiosity out of his voice.

"So where are we really going, Cap?"

"DC, then Langley, Virginia, and a briefing I'd guess by the spooks at the farm."

"Couldn't they do it with encrypted radio messages?"

"Evidently not. They may have more in mind than a briefing. The last time they invited us to Langley we came out looking like a ragtag bunch of Arabs."

"We're going to infiltrate some Arab country?"

"Possible. We've done it before. Check out your squad and be sure that every man has his a.s.signed weapon and double ammo. That's going to mean ammo bags for the Bull Pups."

"Will do, Commander," Gardner said and hurried out the door.

It was a little after oh-seven-hundred when Murdock called home. Ardith should be about ready to drive to work. She picked up on the second ring.

"Yes, good morning."

"Hi, Ardith. A small change in plans. I won't be home for a while, maybe a couple of weeks. We just got a new mission. We fly out this morning at oh-eight-thirty. Wanted to say good-bye."

"I guess that new furniture we talked about looking for will have to wait. It hasn't been long since your last trip."

"True. You know the routine. When they call, we go. You take care of things there. I've got to go. See you soon."

"Soon. Murdock, I love you."

"Love you, too. See you."

He hung up and made a final check on Alpha Squad. Everyone had made it on time at oh-four-thirty. Some of them had breakfast. He found Fernandez checking over his gear. Murdock knelt down beside the SEAL and spoke so no one else could hear.

"You sure you want to go on this one?"

"I'm sure, Cap. I decided when I first heard we had a mission. The old fire horse. No way you can keep me out of it."

"You talk with Maria?"

"For about two hours. She understands how I feel, and that I'm not sure which way I'm going to go. She said it's fine with her either way, but I know she'd rather I drop out and go black shoe."

"I can order you to stay on base."

"I know. But I don't think you'll do that. You don't want another washout."

"Not that. I have to decide if you might endanger another man or your squad." He looked at Fernandez. The SEAL stared straight and even at him, eye to eye. There was no wavering, no indecision on Fernandez's part. "Okay, sailor, you on for this walk in the park." Murdock stood. He nodded curtly and went back to the office.

The navy driver had pulled in the navy bus they were going to go to the desert in at 0840, sweating because he was late. He heard the news of the changed plans and promptly sacked out on the front seat.

The bus dropped off the sixteen SEALs in full battle gear at 0815 on the short runway next to a sleek Gulfstream II that the navy called the VC-11. It is the same as the civilian model with the exception of the added military communications gear and some interior layout changes. The craft is usually used for flying military top bra.s.s and VIPs around when they needed to move in a rush. It carries a crew of two and has seats for nineteen pa.s.sengers.

The VC-11 has a broad, tall vertical tail with a full-height rudder, swept horizontal stabilizers on top of the vertical "T." It uses insert elevators. Flight controls, flaps, spoilers, landing gear, and brakes are all operated by two independent hydraulic systems. Two Rolls-Royce turbofan engines power the craft.

It's seventy-nine feet long, twenty-four feet high, and has a long-range maximum cruising speed of 581 miles an hour. At cruising it can jump over 3,712 miles without refueling and has a ceiling of 43,000 feet.

The SEALs settled into the deluxe first-cla.s.s, pa.s.senger-style seats, stowing their ammo sacks, combat vests, and weapons wherever they found enough room.

A male second-cla.s.s petty officer came in from the front cabin and talked to Murdock. Then the CO of the platoon bellowed out an order. "Listen up," he said. The chatter stopped and the second cla.s.s waved.