“San Diego. Hell, yes! I’ll trade rattlesnakes and cactus for the three B’s any day!” When no one asked him to elaborate, he added, “Beaches, bikinis, and babes. Wait, I think booty’s supposed to be in there somewhere.”
The admiral shook his head. “Sorry, Bonebrake. You won’t have time to leave the base, because as soon as we land a transport jet will be waiting to take the four of you to Russia.” He paused for emphasis, to let this sink in.
Professor shrugged and looked at Bones. “Vodka and ski bunnies?” But it was Maddock at whom Bones glanced. “We’re on pretty good terms with the Russians, right, Dane?” Maddock’s sea gray eyes took on a sparkle as he recalled an incident with a sunken space capsule and a Russian submarine.
The admiral ignored them by continuing. “The four of you have been selected for a special operations mission to recover an asset deemed to be of high-level importance to the United States government. We only have a few minutes until we arrive at North Island, so I need for me to do most of the talking and you to do the listening. Is that clear enough?”
All four SEALs nodded and then the admiral tossed the object he’d been holding onto the tabletop, where it clattered and came to rest. It was an oblong gemstone with a not-quite-golden color that was non-metallic and translucent.
“Any of you know what this is?”
Maddock reached out first and picked it up, but it was Professor who spoke. “Amber. I’m not a geologist, but I don’t think it’s really an actual rock. It’s formed from some kind of tree resin. Bugs and other crap get stuck in it and then fossilized.”
The admiral grinned and nodded. “That’s close enough, Chapman. Pass it around, feel it, look at it. I just want you to get a sense of what we’re looking for beyond what you’ll read about in the briefing materials.”
Maddock ran his thumb over the cabochon, a non-faceted jewel cut with one flat side and a smooth, domed side. “It’s light,” he said, before passing it to Bones, who held it up to his eye and tried to see through it. He turned in Maddock’s direction.
“You look better through this thing, dude. Like some weird blurry skeleton man.”
Willis snatched the organic gemstone from Bones’ hand. “Gimme that, man. You’ve gotten us into enough trouble for one day, seriously.” Bones shrugged and looked out the plane’s window while Willis examined the gem.
The admiral continued. “Long story short. In the early 1700s a famous work of art known as the Amber Room was created in Prussia. Basically four walls and a ceiling completely covered with high-grade Baltic amber, about six tons’ worth all told, but it could be crated up and moved around when needed. Later it ended up in Russia under the care of Peter the Great, and in Russia it remained all the way until World War Two, when in 1941 it was stolen by the invading German army. It was last seen in 1945, thought by many to have been destroyed in the Soviet invasion of what is now known as Kaliningrad.”
The officers flanking the admiral passed an identical folder to each SEAL while Liptow went on.
“You’ll have plenty of time to read up on the detailed background during your transcontinental flight over to Russia. For now, just understand that your official, Top Secret level mission is to locate and retrieve the Amber Room, or as many pieces of it as you can, and then turn it over to me.”
All four SEALs had looks that betrayed the question they were dying to ask. Why does the U.S. government want the Amber Room? But all of them, even Bones, knew that to question orders from such a high level of command was tantamount to insubordination. They were SEALS, tools of force. They did what they were told, no more, no less. The admiral pointed to one of the briefing folders.
“You will have additional support in the region. The Navy has ships and aircraft in the area for the annual BALTOPS-Baltic Operations — exercise, and you will be boarding the cruiser Gettysburg for use as a marine platform from which to investigate a wartime shipwreck. The details are in your briefing materials. One word of caution: latest intel has it that the Russian government is also actively searching for the lost Amber Room at this time.”
Then the pilot’s voice came over a speaker, informing them that they were about to land in San Diego.
The commander had one last thing to say. “Call in to report your status after you dive the wreck. The intel situation up high is fluid, and we’ll need to approve your go-ahead on each objective outlined in your briefing materials. Questions?” The admiral gave each of his SEALs a hard stare that somehow suggested they had better not have any questions.
At length, Bones raised his hand. When the admiral nodded Bones picked up the piece of amber which had once again found its way back to the table.
“I lost my good luck charm on the exercise. Can I have this?”
Chapter 3
The Amber City. Known for producing the world’s most valuable raw amber, a major part of its economy was based around the sought-after substance. Both mined from the Earth and recovered along the local beaches when it washed up from the Baltic Sea, the high-quality amber found here was a constant reminder of the city’s most enduring mystery, the disappearance of the Amber Room in 1945 from Königsberg Castle.
A U.S. Navy enlisted man pulled a truck to a stop at the Commercial Sea Port. Maddock, Bones, Professor and Willis exited the vehicle, each carrying a single small bag. The ship Gettysburg was docked at an immense berth in front of them, her decks full of life as sailors went about their business. Despite the general atmosphere of hustle and bustle — Navy personnel readying for a major at-sea exercise-the air about people was subdued. Bones was the first to mention it.
“You guys notice it’s like we showed up to the party uninvited with no beer?”
Indeed, a passing Russian dockworker gave them a dose of stink-eye without slowing. Even their American escort, the Navy man driving the truck, seemed none too happy to see the SEALs, remaining silent on the drive over from the military airport except when pressed for a response.
Maddock made a dismissive gesture with a hand. “Let’s just get aboard and meet the guy we’re supposed to meet and get the job done.”
This was greeted with grunts from Willis and Professor, and after being let off at the berth without a word from the driver, the four of them walked up a gangway to the deck of the huge warship. Again they were met by a man wearing a frown on his face. He wore a white sailor’s uniform and introduced himself without enthusiasm before telling the newly arrived SEALs to follow him. They walked in silence across the massive cruiser, either ignored by passing sailors or met with stony stares, even when greeted by Bones’ wassup nod. After what seemed a long trek, the travel-weary foursome arrived on the rear deck of the Gettysburg.
Lower to the water than the rest of the ship, this area made a suitable launching place for small boats, and a variety of them were lined up and suspended in cradles where they were kept ready for launch. Their escort pointed to an officer in uniform down by the boats. “That’s your contact. He’s the Underwater Operations Coordinator, an officer. Andy Metcalf. Go talk to him.”
With that, the sailor saluted, did an about face and left. The SEAL team wasted no time. They walked over to the man, who stood alone in front of a Zodiac inflatable boat, consulting a clipboard. They introduced themselves without elaborating on their mission objectives, explaining only as instructed to do that they required the use of small boats, dive gear and SEAL Delivery Vehicles (SDVs) to access an area of interest, the coordinates for which were sent ahead of time via encrypted email.