“He just closed his door. I doubt he has gotten to bed yet,” the young woman said.
“Thanks,” said Johnson as he got up and headed for the front of the plane.
President O’Bannon had just removed his tie and shoes when there was a knock at the door. The Secret Service agent stuck his head in. “The CNO asked to see you, sir.”
O’Bannon nodded and motioned for him to let the CNO in. Johnson stepped into the small cabin.
“What’s up Perry?” the President asked.
Johnson handed over the message. “I just got it. Richard had just gotten things started on our assessment when this happened,” he said sadly.
The President let out a sigh. “I was counting on him to not only see where we are, but start coordinating the NATO efforts. Who have we got that can step into his shoes really fast?” He motioned for the CNO to sit down. The president took a seat on one of the beds.
“I really don’t have any four stars who could do the job Richard could. With the cutbacks, we have been doubling up on a lot of duties,” the CNO said.
O’Bannon nodded, “I know. We’re letting a lot of things be worked out at lower levels. But I need someone who thinks outside the box. This person needs to think through these kinds of problems and then have the respect in NATO that will get the job done without it looking like we’re stepping on toes. Most of the admirals in Washington really aren’t up to that level,” he said. “I just had to lay it on the line with our NATO leaders. If I get someone too pushy, they will turn away, but if I get someone too soft, the others won’t do their part.”
The lines on the edges of the CNO’s eyes began to lift. “Of course, if you wanted someone with a reputation to get things done, I know one guy. As a matter of fact, he’s been known to figure a few things out on his own,” he said with a grin.
At first, the President’s face had a questioning look. Suddenly, it changed to understanding and his grin began to match the one on Admiral Johnson’s face. “He’s been out of our sight way too long. What‘s he doing now?”
“Finishing his job at SURFPAC. I was going to send him to be Sixth Fleet, but I think he could handle this,” Johnson said. “You’ll need to give him his fourth star.”
“After what he did in Venezuela, he deserves it. Call him up and tell him he needs to come back home.”
The CNO stood. The smile on his face told the President he had made the right decision. He had rarely seen a smile that big on the Chief of Naval Operations.
The long trip away from home had worn “Little Steve” out. The two year old had drifted off just an hour into the flight home and had remained asleep while his father put him in his bed. Steven James Hammond had been born just three months after his mother had been rescued from being kidnapped by the President of Venezuela — the same man they had just seen sentenced to death in a Texas court. He was more than healthy. By one, he was pulling himself up and taking his first steps. He began talking at eighteen months. Both Patricia and Roger Hammond had their hands full keeping his inquisitive mind and fingers out of things. Baby proofing was more than a chore. Steven had already figured out how to get around most child locks. While Patricia found herself getting grey hair, Roger had come to admire how his little boy was thinking. Reading had been a nightly thing since the boy was one, but now Little Steve was reading along with his parents and had stepped up to higher level books. Roger was determined that his son would have only the best in his education.
After kissing his son good night, he closed the door and walked to his bedroom. Patricia had already donned her nightgown and had crawled into bed. “Never mind unpacking,” she said. “Tomorrow is Saturday. We can do it then, if we don’t sleep till Sunday,” she said tiredly.
Roger kicked off his shoes and got undressed. A quick brush of his teeth and he crawled into bed beside his wife. He leaned over to give her a good night kiss, but she was already dead asleep. He turned off the light and lay back on his pillow. Yesterday had seen the closing of another chapter of his life. Parente would now face the ultimate price for kidnapping his wife. He still was unsure what long term psychological effects might come through with Patricia. The first day after her rescue she had been in a daze. She rarely spoke and seemed to cling to Roger as if her life depended on it. From what Dale Ricks had told him, she was lucky he had arrived when he did. He had told Roger that Parente was about to plunge a knife through her chest when that sharpshooter had fired. Even he had thought he would be too late to save her. But then something happened. When the crew of Iowa had appeared at that club, she had slowly come out of her haze. They had reached out to her, and slowly, she had reached out to them. In a one hour period, she had returned from the dead. Doc Dickerson said he had never seen anything like it before.
They had returned home aboard the Iowa. With each passing day she had grown stronger. Pretty soon, she could be found in different areas of the ship, laughing with “her guys” and listening to all the things each man had been doing, both aboard ship and in their personal lives. She even found out several men had gotten jobs and moved to San Pedro, not only to be near their ship, but close to her and their captain. Such news tickled her to no end.
But there was something more. She had grown more confident and more assertive. Somewhere along the way, Patricia had found an inner strength that took her far beyond anything she had done in the past. He had seen that in the courtroom when she tripped one of the assailants. The image of her sitting on his back with her fingers in his nose was one he would never forget. In all, it had made him love her even more.
His thoughts were interrupted by the phone ringing on the night stand. He picked up the receiver. “Hammond.”
“Roger, this is Perry. I heard you played hero again yesterday.”
“I can’t seem to get away from trouble,” Hammond chuckled.
“Patricia and Little Steve okay?”
“Of course,” Hammond said while glancing at his bedside clock. “Now, if I got my times right, you should be halfway across the Atlantic right now.”
There was a chuckle at the other end of the line. “I am.”
“Okay, it must be serious if you are making this call. What do you need me for?”
Roger, Richard Styles just passed away from a stroke. I know you were expecting to go to Sixth Fleet, but the President and I need you here with us. You’ll receive orders tomorrow to be here by Monday. You’re being assigned as the Vice Chief of Naval Operations.”
Hammond sat up in his bed. “It must be serious if you need me there by Monday.”
“Yea, Roger, it is. Steve and I need you badly. I can’t go over it all over the phone, so pack your bags and head this way. I’ll arrange for a place in senior officer housing in the Navy Yard. If you could be in my office by six a.m., we’ll do the briefs and I’ll fill you in. You onboard?” the CNO asked.
“Yes, sir. I’ll try and get a flight tomorrow.”
“No, make it Sunday. Give you time to say goodbye to your family. If you get in early enough, come by the residence and we’ll have a beer. Sorry about the short notice.”
“Don’t worry about it. I’ll get as early a flight as I can.”
“Good. And by the way, you need to find an extra star. I’ll see you Sunday.”
“Good night, Perry. See you then,” Hammond said as he hung up the phone.
Patricia was now leaning on her elbow in the bed. “I take it that was Perry Johnson. Is there a problem?” she asked.
Roger looked back at her. “Must be. I have to report to Washington Monday morning. Seems I won’t be going so far away after all,” he said. “I am to be the Vice Chief of Naval Operations in Washington.”