“That’s essentially correct, lieutenant. We need to prevent that from happening.”
“So you want me to go into a remote part of Afghanistan that is controlled by a warlord and surrounded by insurgents and dive into a lake to find a treasure that may or may not exist.” Hearing no disagreement, Hawkins said, “No offense folks, but that is bat shit crazy.”
“Not at all,” Fletcher said. “We’ve considered your background as a SEAL, particularly your cave combat experience in Afghanistan, and the work of your non-profit group locating wrecks. Your submersible research at Woods Hole is well-documented.”
“It’s been a long time since I rappelled down a line from a helicopter.”
“Evidently, you’ve kept in shape,” Fletcher said. “You’ve run a number of half-marathons, right?”
Damn. Is there anything that’s not in that file? Hawkins thought.
“True, but I haven’t won any.”
“You came in near the top, though. A significant feat considering your injury, so physical incapacity is no excuse. We believe you’re the perfect man for the job.”
“The job you’re talking about is a suicide mission.”
“That’s not a given,” Hilliard said. “You would have all the resources of the government at your disposal. We would give you men and weapons.”
“Let’s talk about those resources,” Hawkins said. “We have the greatest military and intelligence-gathering forces in the world, but the task of preventing a horrendous attack on the United States of America would fall on the unworthy shoulders of a forty-something ex-SEAL.”
“I wouldn’t exactly put it that way,” Fletcher said.
“But I would. You all have my personnel file so you know I was kicked out of the navy with a psychiatric discharge. The navy said I was crazy. Good luck finding someone who’s even crazier to carry out this mission.”
He started to rise from his chair.
Captain McCormick snickered and looked around at the others.
“I told you this was the wrong guy for the job. Mr. Hawkins here doesn’t like anyone telling him what to do.”
“You’ve got me all wrong, captain. I don’t like being told what to do by navy guys with a puffed-up view of themselves.”
Fletcher made a palm-down gesture with his hands.
“Please hold on, gentlemen. Your comments are out of line, captain.”
McCormick glared at Hawkins. “Just saying out loud what was in the record. If you’ll excuse me. I need a smoke.”
Hawkins watched the officer storm out of the room. He turned to Fletcher. “And I think I need some air.”
Fletcher raised his hand to stay Hawkins and said to the others, “Would you allow us a few minutes? Lieutenant Hawkins and I need to have a serious talk.”
Hawkins shrugged as the room cleared out. He figured that with the Osprey out of commission and his navy contract in question he had nothing else to do.
“Talk away, Dr. Fletcher.”
CHAPTER FOUR
Instead of going out for a smoke, Captain McCormick strode briskly to a nearby office building. Moments later he entered a sparsely furnished room. A gaunt man sat in front of a computer.
“Nice acting job,” the seated man said.
“Thanks.” The captain pulled up a chair. “I can only stay a few minutes or the others will wonder what I’m doing. How’s it going?”
The man pointed to the screen. “Pretty much as I figured. I’ll rerun the part you just missed.”
The screen showed Fletcher and Hawkins alone in the room.
“Sorry about the captain’s rudeness, Lieutenant Hawkins.”
“Thanks. But let’s face it — I’m not the person you need for a job this complicated.”
Fletcher tapped the dossier. “You’re pretty complicated yourself. May I call you Matt? Or maybe you would prefer your full name. Matinicus. Named for where you were born?”
“That name was inflicted on me by my parents. I was conceived on Matinicus Island. My mother was a flower child before she became an ornithologist. My father was a Maine lobster fisherman.”
“Then you can understand the importance of bait,” Fletcher said with a smile.
He slid a sealed envelope stamped Confidential across the table. Printed on a white label were the words: “Report on Matinicus Hawkins, Afghanistan, 2007. Summary of Findings.”
“Open it,” Fletcher said. “It won’t bite.”
Hawkins slowly bent the metal clasp, folded the flap back, and slid out a sheaf of papers. The report was impossible to read. Line after line had been blacked out.
“Someone had some fun with a Sharpie,” he said.
“I agree. It’s totally useless. However, I can place in your hands a copy that has not been redacted. Of course, you would have to be under naval jurisdiction, if only temporarily.”
Hawkins gazed at the envelope with half-lidded eyes then picked up the report. He knew more about fishing than Fletcher could ever know.
“I’d love to see the un-redacted version.”
“I don’t blame you. Your Afghanistan experience obviously has been gnawing away at you. You must want to know what happened.”
“Yeah,” Hawkins said, shifting in his chair. “Good thing this is as far as your offer goes. I feel myself weakening.”
“Then let me see if I can weaken you a bit more. Name it and it is yours if at all possible.”
“Okay. I want my psychiatric discharge reversed.”
“That’s—”
“Call it a down payment.”
Fletcher frowned. “It might take a while. We’re dealing with the navy bureaucracy.”
“It would be in your interest as well as mine. You wouldn’t want anyone to learn that a delicate mission was entrusted to a crazy man.”
“You raise a valid point, Mr. Hawkins.”
“I’m not through,” Hawkins said. “Who owns the operation if it flops?”
“The government would need plausible deniability. The story would be that you’re a rogue operation.”
“In that case, let’s add some truth to the spin. I want my own team and will make my own logistical arrangements.”
“But as you said, this is a big, complicated job,” Fletcher said.
“Which is why the simpler the better. I’ll let you know if I need help.”
“The situation is fluid and can tolerate no delay. We can give you a fully-equipped team ready to go as soon as you pack your toothbrush. How long will it take to pull together your own people?”
Hawkins cleared his throat. “Twenty-four hours. We can be ready to go in forty-eight.”
Fletcher looked as if Hawkins had told him the moon was made of green cheese. “There’s no margin for error. Everything would have to go off without a hitch.”
“That’s the way I want it.”
“Very well. I will insist, though, on daily updates, except when absolutely impossible.”
“I’ll do my best, but I will insist that we remain an independent entity. Since this is a last-minute job, I will need access to back up. Someone I can call with no questions asked.”
Fletcher nodded. “Very well, lieutenant. I’ll put you in contact with a provider.”
“I’ll need financial support.”
“You will have an open-ended bank account accessed by a secret number. Anything else?”
From the smile on Fletcher’s face, the question was meant to be sardonic, but the smug expression vanished when Hawkins said, “Yes there is. My research contract with the navy was canceled. I want it reinstated. And someone sabotaged my boat. I want reimbursement.”
“Those things are not connected with this mission.”
“Maybe you can connect them.”
Fletcher spread his palms apart. “I’ll do my best, but I must remind you again that time is crucial.”