Like the chain of command, insomnia spread down the pecking order. Aboard the Enterprise a hastily summoned late-night meeting was being conducted in the captain’s staff room. Present were Schumacher, Hayes, several senior officers, and Grimes.
“I wasn’t surprised to find you all awake,” said the admiral to the group as he poured himself a cup of black coffee. “I doubt if anyone at the Pentagon is asleep either.”
Hayes, like everyone else, was growing impatient with the frequent meetings. “Have we gotten any orders yet, Milborne?” he asked.
“ ’Fraid not, Tony,” said Schumacher ruefully. “I just wanted to get together to see if anyone had had any bright ideas while they were tossing red-eyed in their bunks.”
Around the table went an impatient sigh. People moved nervously in their seats.
“I know that’s not what you wanted to hear,” continued the admiral. “But that’s all I’ve got for you. I can tell you that I’ve talked to President Kerry, President Frei and Captain Halsey within the past hour, and they’re suffering the same. In fact, very few in any coastal cities are sleeping. Word is that people are evacuating the coastlines.”
Grimes nodded. “I was on deck when you paged us. The lights are on in Valparaiso. There seems to be a lot of traffic moving around for three in the morning.”
“It’s the same everywhere, Kai,” said Schumacher.
“From Hong Kong to Frisco. India — the southern provinces, at least, are a mess. You can imagine the traffic jams — or maybe none of us can.”
“And we just sit here,” said Hayes.
“Well, Tony, if you have any suggestions…?”
“I have an ‘X’ carved on every bullet head in my Beretta,” said Grimes. “After I kill that fuck I’m going to have his heart started so I can kill him again.”
“If we knew who and where that, er, fuck was, Commander, we’d be sending you on your merry way to him.”
The admiral turned to Hayes. “Any comments from the Chief of intelligence?”
“I wish,” said Hayes. “I’ve been in touch with the Joint Chiefs myself during the night. We think Kai has targeted the right guy.”
“Suarez,” confirmed Grimes. “Yeah, Rudolfo Suarez has been on the top of the list for some time. He usual y hangs out in Munich or Frankfurt, but at the moment he’s in Chile somewhere.”
“Any luck in locating him?” said Schumacher.
“Captain Halsey and President Frei say they have their police out looking,” said Grimes. “But we don’t want to spook the guy if we find him.”
“And of course it might not be him at all,” said the general morosely. “He’s the only one with the travel patterns and the financial connections to pul it off, but even so the Pentagon stat boys are only sixty per cent sure it’s him.”
“That’s grounds enough for me,” said Grimes.
“For what? An arrest?” asked the admiral.
“Something like that,” replied Grimes with a sardonic smile.
“Two unverified communications to the UN General Assembly don’t warrant a random EP mission,” said Hayes, giving the SEAL a harsh look. “Let’s keep it in our pants for the time being.”
Grimes returned the general’s gaze with an unapologetic stare.
“ ‘EP’?” asked the admiral.
“Extreme prejudice,” explained Hayes. “We need Gibbs to verify that Suarez is definitely the man who shot him before we can act.”
“Then I think we should sit tight for a while,” said the admiral. “I guess you can tell Halsey we might be in the area for a week at least. Oh, well, guess I was hoping for miracles when I called this meeting. Unless anyone has something more, you can all go and try to get some sleep.”
Silence followed his statement. He finished their gathering with a word. “Dismissed.”
Grimes and the general left together, following an unspoken directive to continue looking for an answer. They walked the halls of the Enterprise towards the rec hall, which was located several decks beneath the conning tower.
Hayes took a small cel phone from his shirt pocket and punched in a few numbers. Soon a beep told him he was connected to the Big E’s com centre.
“Call the hotel and leave a message for Gibbs and French. We’ll be at harbour longer than expected — a week, anyway. Have them phone me back in the morning.”
“Not bad for Henry,” Grimes commented. “A little vacation in the middle of a world crisis.”
“Opinions?” said Hayes.
“I wonder if he’ll ever be any help to us. We know who we’re looking for.”
“Gibbs hasn’t confirmed Suarez is our man,” replied the general. “Until that happens we — the admiral and the President — want him on the team.”
Grimes grunted a response.
“You want to get rid of him?” asked Hayes, eyeing the SEAL.
“Just sayin’. I kind of like the guy, tell you the truth. I was just thinking that nonessentials like Gibbs and the woman might be sent home. You know, to be with their families.”
Hayes smiled and patted the SEAL on the back.
“Well, you’re a big softy after all, aren’t you?”
Grimes raised an eyebrow. “Naw. I was just tryin’ to keep the dogshit off the deck.”
When the two men entered the rec room Hayes was surprised to hear the voice of Jo Stafford singing “Long Ago And Far Away”. He paused in the doorway as if he’d hit a wall, and stood there staring at the speaker in the ceiling.
Grimes, who’d entered first, continued towards the bar, where a coffee machine sat unattended. He turned when he realized Hayes wasn’t with him, and saw the general standing motionless, listening to the music. He wasn’t sure, but he thought he saw a glint of a tear on the man’s cheek. The rec room was empty except for the two of them, and most of the galley lights had been dimmed. The general turned and left the room without comment.
Grimes poured himself a cup of coffee and sat down on a stool. He sipped the strong, hot liquid and waited until the song was finished, and then he too went back to his quarters.
That night the twin Gadfly Stealth helicopters rose from the deck of the Enterprise for the second time. With only two SEALs on each, they headed in a dead straight line towards the distant Andes. Grimes and Rob Walters took the lead in G-1; Tom Jabiel piloted G-2 with Dan Hoy, special weapons expert, in the copilot’s seat. They left the Big E at midnight and flew without lights over the busy streets of Valparaiso.
Jabiel and Hoy watched their instruments as they trailed their boss’s chopper by a half a kilometre. Hoy closely monitored the ghost of a signature on the ruby-lit screen in front of him — all they had with which to track their leader. The system, which utilized low ELF radiation, had been special y engineered for Gadfly squadrons to track one another.
Watched the flickering green dot, Hoy yawned, confident his boredom wouldn’t be noticed behind his black helmet and visor. But Jabiel heard the slight sigh through the intercom and chuckled. “Are we keepin’ you up, Hoy? I guess you’d rather be locking a TOW onto G-1, eh?”
Hoy didn’t defend his boredom. “What’s the point of this, anyway?”
“You know the mission as well as anyone,” replied Jabiel. “Logistical, tactical planning. We’re testing the new fuel mix and the Gadfly’s stealth, and also seeing how far we can get up those mountains. Just ’cause we’re not shooting something…”