“Congratulations on earning your Deep Manned Submersible Rating, you two. Well done.” Lawhorne’s smile did not reach his eyes.
Dane and Bones exchanged quizzical looks that said, we passed? But then the commander, a balding man in his early fifties with a chest full of medals, spoke again.
“Your instructor tells me that you both scored highly throughout the exercises. I’m sorry that I don’t yet have your detailed evaluations ready for review, or your new pins, but you’ll receive them as soon as you get back.”
Dane let the obvious question go unspoken, as he felt it was not his place to question a man of the commander’s rank unprompted.
“Get back from where?” Bones asked.
Dane did his best to suppress an involuntary cringe. He looked over at his partner in war, who sat casually in his jeans and wool pullover — the same outfit he’d had on in the sub to ward off the chill. A small abalone shell hung around his neck, a nod to the native tribes who once lived in California for whom the shiny-shelled mollusk was an important food source. Dane expected Lawhorne might rebuke Bones for speaking out of turn, but if the officer was irritated he didn’t let it show.
“The two of you have been placed on special assignment to the east coast of Florida, effective immediately. That’s all I know at this point.”
Lawhorne paused to look at his two SEALs as if he expected questions, so Dane ventured, “Pardon me, Sir, but are you going to brief us?”
The man on the other side of the desk shook his head emphatically. “Negative. I am not privy to the details of your assignment because I do not have sufficient clearance.”
Dane’s mouth started to drop open before he pulled it together. Bones also said nothing, an indicator that he too was stunned by the implications of their superior officer’s words.
If he didn’t have clearance, then how high-level must this assignment be?
The commander checked his watch. “You board a plane in fifty-three minutes. I’m told you’ll be briefed en route. Get back to your quarters. Pack your bags, wait for ground transport. Dismissed.”
Dane shot to his feet and saluted. Bones ambled up from his chair, saluting with a confused look on his face. Then he said, “Excuse me, Sir, but does this mean we’re going to miss the submersible class graduation party that was supposed to be tonight, or will it be rescheduled?”
Dane rolled his eyes and rubbed his temples.
“Son, you’re going to miss that party but from the way it seems, if you have success on this mission I expect you’ll be coming home to the biggest damn bash you’ve ever had in your life.”
Lawhorne saw the grin forming on Bones’ face and held up a hand before continuing. “Listen to me. Like I said, I don’t have the details. But this much I do know: your country needs you. Do not let her down.”
Chapter 2
Dane cracked a smile as he watched Bones duck under the doorway to the Learjet 35. The private plane was by far the nicest mode of transportation they’d taken thus far in their military careers, though certainly not the largest. Accommodating six passengers plus a crew of three, it made up in style what it lacked in size. An attractive flight attendant with strawberry blonde hair and a sprinkling of freckles across her button nose led Dane and Bones away from the cockpit, the mahogany door to which was closed, to two leather recliners, one each on opposite sides of a plush carpeted aisle. Behind these two seats, a drawn curtain divided the cabin; murmurs of soft conversation drifted in from the other side.
Dane sank into his chair while Bones stood there in the aisle, mouth agape, taking in the splendor. “One time I flew first class commercial because I got bumped from standby, but this makes that look like a cattle car,” he said, slipping into his seat like a man sitting down in his La-Z-Boy to watch TV after dinner, a leg flopped over one of the chair arms. “This rocks. I never fit an airline seat.”
“Please sit upright and buckle up for takeoff, sir. As soon as we’re at cruising altitude you’re free to do what you wish.” The flight attendant’s sharp tone belied her farm girl looks.
Bones turn his attention to the flight attendant, his gaze lingering over her crisply pressed uniform, and grinned. Dane tensed, wondering what might come out of the big Indian’s mouth next, but Bones complied, giving the young woman a wink as he clicked his seatbelt closed.
“Sure beats the heck out of trying to sleep in the cargo net of a C-130 transport next to everybody’s crap bouncing around, right?” Dane asked.
“Bro, you got that right! Remember that time on the way out to Honolulu…”
Bones was in the middle of recounting an anecdote about a loose surfboard waking him up in the cargo hold when the Lear pilot’s voice came over the intercom letting them know that they would be flying non-stop from Monterey to Cape Canaveral.
“I’ll be back in a few minutes to see if you gentlemen would like anything to eat or drink,” the flight attendant told them before retreating to the front of the plane.
Dane and Bones settled back and allowed the takeoff forces to pin them to their cushy seats. In short order they said goodbye to the Pacific, where the sun was already sinking lower in the sky as the aircraft banked into a turn toward the east.
True to her word, when the aircraft leveled off, the flight attendant returned with menus. Both men ordered three-course meals of spicy Mexican food along with bottles of Dos Equis. It had been a long day in the submersible and their sudden orders had left them with no time to eat until now. They feasted, saying little while they enjoyed the tang of cilantro and marinated beef, lost in thought about what might lay ahead.
No sooner had they cleared their plates than they heard the curtain behind them slide open.
“If you two gentlemen would be so kind as to join us in the conference room for your briefing, we’ll tell you what you’re doing aboard this flying luxury suite. This way please.”
Dane and Bones sat up and turned around. A naval officer they had never seen before stood behind them. Dane hastily wiped his mouth with a napkin before standing straight and saluting. Bones did the same and the officer briefly returned their salutes. The pair of SEALs followed him into the middle section of the jet, which had been sectioned off into a nicely appointed yet highly functional work area. A hardwood conference table occupied the center of the space, with leather office chairs fixed in place around it. A large LCD monitor was mounted on one wall. Paper nautical charts were spread out on the table itself, along with a bevy of open laptops. In addition to the officer who had escorted them back here, Dane and Bones were greeted by three other men, all of whom appeared to be in their late fifties. Two of them wore military uniforms while a third was dressed in a suit and tie.
Dane was stunned to recognize the insignia of a Navy admiral on one of their lapels. He did not recognize the other uniform and was correct in his assumption that it was not Navy. The admiral nodded to the naval officer, who promptly stepped around Dane and Bones to draw the curtain across the cabin.
“Gentlemen, please be seated,” the Admiral began. Dane and Bones followed the order, sitting next to one another in the only two available chairs. The admiral continued.
“I am Admiral Jeffrey Whitburn, based at the Pentagon, where I’ll be returning after we let you two off at Canaveral. Let me begin by saying that both of you come very highly recommended and it’s a pleasure to have you here.”
“Thanks. We think you’re pretty cool too!” Bones blurted. Dane kicked him in the shin under the table.
The admiral seemed unsurprised by the comment. If he’d done his homework, he probably knew at least a little bit about Bones’ eccentricities.