“What are you—”
The gun jerked as the man shot Pope in the stomach. He fell, his blood spilling out onto the ground. The man moved closer to Pope, now writhing and groaning. The gun barked quietly as the man shot him again in the chest. Pope lay still. The killer put his gun back in his jacket and leaned down next to Pope, shoving his body underneath the Taurus.
The club in Naples had often been used for squadron functions. The F-18 squadron had reserved it long ahead, knowing that it booked up early when the carrier was in port. The Mediterranean usually contained at least one American aircraft carrier, sometimes two. One was almost always at sea. The George Washington was in the eastern Mediterranean and the Dwight D. Eisenhower (CVN-69) was in port in Naples. VFA-136, an F/A-18 squadron, had decided to have a Dining-In, an officers-only party, where the officers wore their dress white uniforms and enjoyed the Naval traditions of roast beef, port, and toasts. It was a highly regimented, scripted event. The officers had been anticipating the night for a month, dreading it because they had to wear their dress uniforms, but looking forward to it because of the Navy mythology that rose around the dinners. Stories of great excesses and drunkenness, toasts given and regretted, food fights, general mayhem and craziness. Few had seen such things, and the legends went back several decades, even centuries, but there was always great anticipation of legends in the making.
Commander Gary Witt, the F-18 Squadron Commanding Officer, was by definition the president of the mess. He was, therefore, required to do certain things and behave in a certain way. Very savvy, he knew what was expected of him and so far he had been doing his job beautifully. He caught the signal from the Lieutenant who was acting as the Officer of the Mess with a sword on his side that it was time to parade the beef. Witt stood and asked for attention. “As you all know, it is now time for that great moment where we begin our feast by bringing in the main course for all the red-blooded Americans seated at these tables. I call your attention to the parading of the beef!”
With that the doors opened in the back of the banquet room and two large Italian waiters entered. Walking solemnly, they carried an enormous platter between them on their shoulders. A bagpiper followed them, odd moaning sounds coming from his instrument as he puffed up the bladder in preparation for playing. Finally, in keeping with the tradition, “Scotland the Brave” screamed out of the pipes. The waiters and the piper made their way slowly around the room, allowing each officer to gaze longingly at the beautiful side of beef as their eardrums were pierced by the deafening bagpipes.
Suddenly the doors on the side of the room flew open. A man in a hood and black clothing appeared with an assault rifle with a scope at his shoulder. He glanced around quickly, saw Witt standing at the head table, and sighted through his scope. Several officers cried out at the same moment so that the Officer of the Mess reached to his side for his sword, but it happened too fast; no one could stop the shooter. He fired and Witt fell forward, his head slapping against the lectern as he dropped to the floor, dead. Some of the men jumped to their feet, ready to rush the gunman. The Officer of the Mess had pulled out his sword and was moving toward the gunman when the man saw him and immediately fired three bullets into him, killing him instantly. The gunman stood quietly, waiting for anyone else to move. No one did. The pilots wanted to charge out and attack the gunman but they all had seen what happened. The man began backing up slowly, moving toward the door where he had entered. Two other gunmen, also wearing hoods and carrying assault rifles with scopes appeared, opening the two doors for the killer, and he backed out unmolested. As the room erupted in shrieks of horror, revenge, and anger, the three gunmen disappeared.
26
“President’s going on TV in about an hour,” Jaime Rodriguez reported breathlessly to Vice Admiral Brown, who sat up straight at his spotless desk, his reading glasses on.
“What about?”
“The Paris killings. He’s pissed, and he’s going to yell at them. No prepared speech.”
Admiral Brown removed his glasses. “This ought to be interesting.” He sat back slightly, and turned to Jaime. “How is that paper coming on declaring war?”
“Done. We’re just polishing it.”
“Same conclusion as last week?”
Jaime saw where the Admiral was going. “Yes, sir. No reason at all we couldn’t do it.”
“I don’t know if we’re quite ready for such a big move. This is the kind of thing that needs months — if not years — of analysis and discussion… But maybe we don’t have that kind of time.” He stood up and walked around his desk. “Get Tim to get me a copy of the draft memo right now, and be ready to talk about it after the President’s speech. We may have just the tool he’s been looking for.”
Sean Woods picked up the phone that was ringing on his stateroom wall. “Lieutenant Woods.”
“Trey. All officers’ meeting right now.” It was Sedge. He had the duty.
Woods immediately assumed the worst. He was going to be exposed in front of the entire squadron. He tried not to react like a criminal who is spooked by everything, knowing he is about to be caught, but he couldn’t shake it. “What about?”
“President’s going to make a speech about the Paris killings. Skipper wants all the officers to watch it in the ready room.”
“What time?”
“Five minutes.”
Woods had been sickened by the news of the attacks. There was no doubt in his mind who was behind the killings, and that it was his fault. If they hadn’t participated in the attack with the Israeli Air Force, none of this would have happened. If he hadn’t insisted on turning on the radar so he could shoot down one more Syrian airplane, they wouldn’t have been sure an F-14 radar was nearby. His tracks were covered, but his conscience was not.
Woods walked quickly to the ready room. To someone who knew him it would have been clear that his usually confident stride was less so. He was carrying a burden he wasn’t accustomed to.
The rest of the officers arrived about the same time Woods did. Bark was there, waiting. When most of the officers were in their seats, Bark began speaking. “Morning. The speech is in about five minutes. We’ll see what the President has to say about all this. But I wanted to say that this Sheikh al-Jabal character is going after Americans directly. No argument like with Vialli that these people were just in the wrong place at the wrong time. He’s coming after us. And after Navy officers. I—”
The image of the President of the United States came on the television in the front of the room. Bark sat down as the President’s speech began.
President Garrett looked somber and angry. The officers were accustomed to hearing the President speak, but none of them had seen this look on his face. “As all of you know, there have been three brutal attacks on Americans in the last twenty-four hours. The first was the Naval attaché in Paris, attacked by someone unknown on his morning jog near the Seine. The second was closer to home, here in Washington, D.C. The Assistant Secretary of State was gunned down in the State Department parking lot. I just heard details of a third attack, equally shocking and disturbing. A Squadron Commanding Officer of a fighter squadron off the USS Dwight D. Eisenhower was at a squadron dinner in a club near Sixth Fleet Headquarters in Naples, Italy. Three gunmen broke in and murdered the Navy Commander and the Officer of the Mess.
“I want to extend the country’s heartfelt sympathy to the families of the men who were killed. Our hopes and prayers are with them. I’m sure they wonder what kind of monsters would do such a thing. We wonder too. We understand from the same London newspaper that received the communiqué from the man who calls himself Sheikh al-Jabal that he is claiming responsibility for these attacks as part of his continued response to the attempt to assassinate him by this country working in conjunction with Israel.” The President paused. “These acts, on top of the false accusations against the United States, are outrageous. This man is not only vicious, but completely misguided. He appears to be fixated on the idea that we had something to do with the attack in Lebanon that the Israeli Air Force conducted some two weeks ago. I want to state publicly and unequivocally that we had nothing to do with that raid. Nothing whatsoever.”