“Possible existence,” Trace cut in.
“This doesn’t look like just possible,” Boomer said, pointing at the ring he’d taken off the man at the hotel.
“Nothing here has just been a coincidence.
“Anyway,” he conceded, “add in the’ possible existence of this Line organization, and I think we have a bad situation here.”
Trace shook her head.
“I don’t understand what 1st of the 1st has to do with this. So you’ve got a new CO for A Company 1st of the 1st. One who’s politics are sort of right wing.”
“But he’s not S-F-qualified,” Boomer noted.
Trace continued on.
“And he’s taking over because the last commander said he got set up to be relieved and his company is getting new people in that he doesn’t have authority to slot where he wants. Did they set up his making the mistake that got him relieved?”
“They’re stacking a couple of teams there,” Boomer insisted, giving his explanation for events on Okinawa.
“Uh-huh,” Trace said.
“And you have these fourteen people and two bundles jumping into a water DZ on the night of the second off the coast.”
“Most likely those same teams from 1st of the 1st,” Boomer said.
“But how can you connect them to The Line. If The Line exists?”
“I don’t have a direct connection,” Boomer conceded.
“But I think someone, somewhere, is pulling some strings and most of the principal players are West Pointers.”
“So are we,” Trace interrupted.
“Yeah, but we aren’t Rhodes Scholars,” Boomer said sarcastically.
“If they only pick a couple of people every few years, I’m not too surprised they didn’t pick us to be part of their little organization.”
“Speak for yourself,” Trace said, trying to smile.
“I ranked in the top twenty of my class.”
“Shit, Trace,” Boomer said.
“Get real. You could have been number one and they wouldn’t give you the time of day. The Line probably had a shit fit when Congress passed that law allowing woman into the Academy. The damn super intendant at the time threatened to resign.”
“Let’s get back to facts,” Trace said.
“We have no proof that The Line exists. All I had were the muddled memories of an old lady. And what does that have to do with my manuscript? The men in the hotel were connected to the men you killed behind the house. You’re only connecting them to this jump because of their scuba gear—”
“The map,” Boomer said tapping it, “locks them together.”
“OK, they’re connected,” Trace said.
“If this is all fact, what are they here to do?”
Boomer rubbed his eyes, his voice cracking with fatigue.
“When is the President arriving?”
Trace slumped back, the disbelief apparent on her fine features.
Skibicki silently went to a table in the corner of-the room and pulled out a sheet of papers with a classified stamp on the cover.
“This is the OPLAN for security. He arrives on Ohau the morning of the sixth. He’s attending a fundraising dinner at the Royal Hawaiian on the night of the sixth, then the ceremony at Pearl on the morning of the seventh. He’s scheduled to commemorate the anniversary with a minute of silence at 7:54 a.m.” the time when the attack started.
His speech is set for 8:00 a.m.
“So we have six days.”
“Hold on one second,” Trace said.
“How do you come up with a plot against the President? I think you’re stretching here. Boomer.”
“Hey, you’re the one who’s writing the book,” Boomer replied.
“You’re the one that told me about The Line.”
“But I was talking about fiction. A novel. Boomer, you know like Stephen King and John Grisham.”
“You based it on facts as told to you,” Boomer said.
“You just automatically assumed she was senile. What if she’s floating with all her oars and told you the biggest secret of the century? God, Trace, it’s as if she told you the mob shot JFK and you called Joe Bonanno and said, “Hey, wanna hear a good story?”
“Calm down, both of you,” Skibicki said. He was looking at the map.
“The water jump. It makes sense now. The President’s speaking at Pearl Harbor; that has quite a bit of water in it, last I checked. If I was going to plan an operation, knowing the security that the President always has, I don’t think I’d come at him on land.”
“You think it’s an assassination?” Boomer had not taken it to that drastic conclusion.
“I don’t think they’d go that far. More likely they have something planned to politically hurt him.”
“I don’t even know that anything’s planned,” Skibicki countered.
“We’re just speculating here. We got some strange shit going on and we’re checking it out.” He looked at the map.
“The President’s exact itinerary is classified, but there’s one place and one time everyone knows exactly where he’s going to be: the Arizona Memorial at 7:54 a.m. on the seventh of December. If I was doing a target folder, I’d start with that fact. And the Memorial is in the center of Pearl Harbor, which just happens to contain a lot of water,” he added, looking at Boomer.
Skibicki sat down in the seat marked commander and swung his boots up on the conference table.
“Let me ask Vasquez to do some checking.”
“Vasquez?” Boomer repeated.
“She’s smart and she’s hooked into the intelligence apparatus on this island like you wouldn’t believe. She can go up to PA COM or over to Pearl and check on damn near anything. Hell, she’s got a direct computer line into the NSA back on the mainland.”
“What will you tell her to look for?” Boomer asked.
“Anything out of the ordinary,” Skibicki said.
“In fact, I’ll set it up like I would if I was going to do a mission.
Have her check to see if anyone else has done any checking on information about the President’s visit or about security, or the setup at Pearl. Anything.”
“Sounds good,” Boomer said. He turned to Trace.
“Try to remember. Is there a way to learn more about The Line?
If it’s real it had to have had a history. More than just involving Patton. Sixty years is a long time for a secret organization.”
“You’ve made up your mind this thing exists and you,” she said, pointing at Skibicki, “think they’re going going to kill the President.
Do I have this right?” She waited and their silence was her answer.
“Hell, then I have the entire history of The Line. It’s my outline.
The stuff I made up last month that now turns into fact.”
Boomer grabbed her hands.
“Listen, Trace. You don’t want to believe it, but those guys at your house had a sniper rifle loaded with a bullet that had your name on it.
Maybe that’s why. Maybe taking the nurse’s story and whatiffing through history like you did is exactly what happened. Can you talk to this woman again? Is she still still alive?”
Trace was pale, her hands trembling in Boomer’s grip.
She nodded with resignation.
“She lives on the mainland. I’ll have to go, won’t I?”
Boomer nodded, but his brain was racing over the events of the last few days. He turned to Skibicki.
“You told me that you saw Hooker in Vietnam.”
Skibicki was looking at the map.
“Yeah?”
“If The Line exists. Hooker’s one of them. You said he was involved in what happened at Nha Trang with your commander.”
Skibicki nodded.
“Yeah, he was.”
“Does Colonel Rison know anything about The Line?” Boomer asked.
“Who’s Colonel Rison?” Trace asked.
“The Special Operations Commander in Vietnam in 1968,” Skibicki replied.
“Why would he know about The Line?” Trace asked.
“It’s a long story,” Boomer said.