Sarah started to say something, but Niles cut her off by ordering the elevator to continue. Sarah got the hint and shut up. The doors opened, and Niles stepped out without a word, and the doors closed again. The three occupants stood there not knowing what had just happened. The elevator started to move downward on its silent, air-cushioned ride.
“Well, I guess our boys are in trouble again,” Will said.
“And we were left out of the loop.”
Sarah looked at Anya. “Is there some light you can share on what the director was referring to when he brought up the Russians?”
Anya shook her head. “Wasn’t my area of expertise, and getting anything out of Mossad, as you know, is difficult at the best of times. No, I have nothing.”
“All I know is Jason and Charlie are now moving to the East Coast by supersonic transport,” Will replied.
“And?” Sarah said, looking at Mendenhall.
Anya smiled. “He’s mad because he doesn’t get to play with the other kids.”
Will frowned and hit the floor button instead of using the voice command.
“You’re damn right I am. Bastards.”
The sun was an hour away from broaching the skies to the east when Jack, Carl, and Henri were driven to the farthest reaches of the British naval base at Portsmouth. The United States Marine guards were silent as they pulled up to a large dock area. Jack glanced back at Carl when they saw the inordinate amount of navy shore patrol. It was also noticed that none of these patrolmen had their standard sidearms and nightsticks. They were fully armed with British-made L85A2 IW standard assault rifles. Collins counted no fewer than thirty-five of the naval security men. The marines remained quiet and offered nothing other than a “Good morning” to the three men as they stepped from the American-made Humvee.
The three found themselves looking around at the mass of personnel but, with the heavy roll of fog in the area, couldn’t see anything much beyond the pier they stood upon.
“Colonel Collins?”
Jack turned at the sound of the voice. A tall man in a green flight suit stood with a clipboard in his hands. He saw the Union Jack in a lighter shade of green on the man’s shoulder. Next to him were two other men dressed similarly. These two carried four large duffel bags.
“I’m Collins,” Jack said as he stepped forward.
“Sir, I am Flight Lieutenant Daniel Killeen. These are for you and your men, Colonel.”
The two men standing next to the Royal Navy officer stepped forward and handed three duffel bags to Henri and Carl. One other they sat next to Jack.
“I believe we were able to accommodate everything that was requested by your State Department.”
Jack exchanged another look with Carl. The mention of the State Department was a surprise. They quickly deduced that Niles was running a game on somebody. It was the never-ending song and dance in regard to covering up anything and everything about the Event Group. Jack knew it was wise not to comment on the observation. He leaned over and unzipped the bag at his feet. His brows rose as he spied the contents.
“The M4s and ammunition are from the stores of USS Breckenridge. She’s a destroyer escort visiting Portsmouth. My boss says your boss felt you would be more comfortable with American arms rather than British.”
“No offense meant,” Everett said as he lifted one of the small M4s from the bag and examined it.
“None taken, Captain.” The Royal Navy man then reached back, and one of his men slipped a parcel into his hand. “Also, this was forwarded through your embassy for delivery to you. I have instructions that say to tell you it’s a gift from a Dr. Morales.” A confused look crossed the officer’s face. “He states you may need Marilyn Monroe’s advice at some point. He said in his instructions to you that it is a closed-looped system and is not attached to the rest of her body. I hope you understand what that means, because we, sir, do not, which was obviously intended.”
Collins smiled as he took the larger-than-normal laptop computer from the British officer.
“Thank you. It does make sense.”
“I’m beginning to believe that kid knows his stuff,” Carl said as he and Jack again exchanged amused looks.
Lieutenant Killeen looked at the wristwatch under his rolled-up sleeve. “The other members of your party will be arriving shortly. They are currently en route from London. It seems at least one of the new arrivals was extremely unhappy about their flight accommodations thus far.”
“Jenks,” both Carl and Jack said simultaneously.
“Yes, I believe that was the name your air force crewmen claim. They seem not to like that man very much.”
Henri opened a duffel and pulled out a black Nomex BDU. He held it up to Collins with raised brows.
“Relax, Colonel, you’ve always looked good in black,” Everett said as he placed the M4 back inside the first bag.
The thump of heavy rotors broke the still of the morning. The fog parted as the British officer again looked at his watch. “Right on time.”
Jack, Carl, and Henri watched as a United States Navy Seahawk helicopter, the naval version of the army’s Blackhawk, slowly pushed the fog away and settled down to the ancient wooden pier. They heard the loud cracking and popping as the large helicopter and her extreme weight taxed the ancient dock. Collins was beginning to wonder just how far out in the boondocks they were if the pier was that old. Someone didn’t want others to even know they were there, or didn’t want prying eyes to see something the British wanted kept hush-hush.
With the four-bladed rotors still turning, the sliding door on the port side opened, and an angry Master Chief Jenks hopped out, pushing the crew chief’s helping hands away. He removed a cold cigar and was about to chew the young man’s head off when Jason Ryan jumped out and got in between them. He was followed by a purely thrilled Charlie Ellenshaw, looking ridiculous in a blue flight suit that had been supplied to him by the US Air Force. Ryan waved at the waiting trio and then gently nudged the angry master chief forward.
Ryan saluted Collins and then shook hands with both Henri and Everett.
“So, how was your little flight?” Jack asked as Charlie joined them.
“I’ll tell you how it was.” Jenks lit a fresh cigar and then angrily looked at Collins. “At times that air force jockey flew so low I thought we hit several seagulls.”
“From my understanding, we’ve lost more B-1s to bird strikes than enemy fire,” Everett said with a smile.
“The flight was good, Colonel,” Ryan answered quickly while looking at Jenks in a successful attempt at shutting his complaining down. “The master chief, like myself, I fully admit, doesn’t like anything he’s not in control of.”
“What in the hell does the air force know about control? That jock was all over the sky!”
“Jenksy, my understanding is that the B-1B Lancer not only had to hide from Russian eyes, but it also had to avoid a little thing called Hurricane Tildy,” Jack said as he started to distribute equipment.
“While almost doing double the speed of sound. It was quite a ride,” Jason said as he accepted a Nomex commando BDU from Everett.