by Don Mann
But he couldn’t do that. He had teammates to help heal and support, responsibilities to fill, and at least one memorial service to attend.
He’d learned in Germany that Rollins’s body had been cremated. At the end of the month Rollins’s mother and girlfriend were holding a service for him in London. Crocker planned to be there. He also wanted to visit Doyle, who was recuperating at Johns Hopkins Medical Center in Baltimore. First he had to call Séverine’s mother in Paris and express his deep condolences.
Séverine’s face and voice haunted him.
In the shower, he thought he heard her calling him.
“Crocker? Crocker?”
He answered, “Séverine, is that you? Are you okay?”
No answer. Now dressed, he shuffled toward the welcome smells coming from the kitchen and was greeted by smiling Jenny and Bogart.
“Welcome back, Dad!”
They hugged him. Freshly baked muffins waited on the kitchen counter.
“You’re a hero,” BD said.
“I’m no hero,” answered Crocker, “but it’s good to be back.”
“The newspaper says you are,” Jenny offered.
The headline on the front page of the Washington Post read: “President Hails Heroes of Syrian Hostage Rescue.” It didn’t refer to Black Cell or mention any names, but it did quote the president, who said, “The men who completed this mission are the bravest men and best warriors in the world today. They’re national heroes and make us all proud to be Americans.”
Crocker was moved.
Three days later, dressed in his customary black, he sat in the departure lounge at Dulles Airport waiting for his American Airlines flight to Paris to board when his cell phone rang.
It was Captain Sutter. They hadn’t spoken since before the mission.
“Crocker?”
“Yeah, Captain.”
“You want to ride up to DC with me this morning for the ceremony? I figure we’ve got a lot to talk about on the way.” His tone was friendly.
“I’m already there,” replied Crocker.
“DC?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Okay, then,” said Captain Sutter, “I’ll see you at the White House. Maybe we can meet up after. I know things were said between us, and other things happened. We need to sort through all that like professionals and resolve it.”
“One way or another,” added Crocker.
“One way or another. Yes.”
He didn’t know where he stood with HQ now. Didn’t care, either. He’d been threatened with a court-martial for disobeying orders. Knew from his friend Davis that the NSA had intercepted Séverine’s call informing him of Dayna Hood’s location, and that information had been communicated to the White House, which authorized the drone rocket attack on the Governant Building in Raqqa.
In addition to killing Sheikh al-Sufi “The Viper” and other ISIS militants, the rockets had taken the lives of Rollins and Séverine, and injured Crocker and other members of the rescue team.
So he had reason to be angry, sad, and more than a little conflicted.
“Happy to do that at some point, sir,” Crocker replied, struggling to maintain an even tone of voice. “But I won’t be attending the White House ceremony this afternoon.”
“Why not, Crocker? You’re expected. Dayna Hood and her family will be there. They want to thank you in person. The president does, too.”
“I’ve already spoken to Dayna and her family and plan to visit them in Georgia when I return. Right now I’m on my way to Paris to attend the funeral of the real hero of the operation.”
“Who’s that?” Sutter asked.
“She was the colleague of Ms. Hood’s in Doctors Without Borders who went into Raqqa and found where Dayna was being held. This woman died in the rocket strike, and her body was recovered and recently turned over to Doctors Without Borders and returned to her family.”
“I heard her mentioned, but didn’t realize what she had done.”
“Her name was Séverine Tessier. She was a brave and remarkable young woman, sir. You might ask the president to mention her name and the important role she played during the ceremony this afternoon.”
“Text it to me, Crocker, and I will.”
“Like I said before, she was the real hero of the rescue mission. She went into Raqqa unarmed and on her own. The tragic irony is that we launched the drone strike that probably killed her. It killed Rollins, too.”
“Who’s Rollins?”
“Rollins is the British private contractor who volunteered to join us. The president should probably mention his name, too.”
“I’ll tell him. What’s his first name?”
“Don’t know, sir. He went by Rollins. And another thing, sir. I assume you knew about the drone strike and didn’t warn us. All I have to say about that now is a big…fuck you!”
Acknowledgments
There are a number of hardworking and very talented individuals we would like to thank, starting with our brilliant editor, Emily Giglierano, and the rest of the excellent team at Mulholland/Little, Brown—including Pamela Brown, Ben Allen, Scott Wilson, Kapo Ng, Neil Heacox, Gabriella Mongelli, Elora Weil, and others. In terms of day-to-day support, we’re supremely grateful to our families. Don wants to thank his father, who quit high school on December 7, the day Pearl Harbor was attacked, enlisted in the U.S. Navy, and served throughout the war. After he retired he devoted his time toward helping veterans through the DAV and the VFW. And Ralph wants to acknowledge his lovely wife, Jessica, and children John, Michael, Francesca, and Alessandra. As for inspiration, we get that from the men and women in SEAL teams and other agencies of government who do the kind of work we describe in these books. Thank you for your service!
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About the Authors
Don Mann (CWO3, USN) has for the past thirty years been associated with the U.S. Navy SEALs as a platoon member, assault team member, boat crew leader, and advanced training officer, and more recently as program director preparing civilians to go to BUD/S (SEAL training). Until 1998 he was on active duty with SEAL Team Six. Since then, he has deployed to the Middle East on numerous occasions in support of the war against terrorism. Many of today’s active-duty SEALs on Team Six are the same men he taught how to shoot, conduct ship and aircraft takedowns, and operate in urban, arctic, desert, river, and jungle warfare, as well as close-quarters battle and military operations in urban terrain. He has suffered two cases of high-altitude pulmonary edema, frostbite, a broken back, and multiple other broken bones in training or service. He has been captured twice during operations and lived to tell about it. He lives in Virginia.
Ralph Pezzullo is a New York Times bestselling author and award-winning playwright, screenwriter, and journalist. His books include Zero Footprint: The True Story of a Private Military Contractor’s Covert Assignments in Syria, Libya, and the World’s Most Dangerous Places (with former British Special Forces commando Simon Chase), Jawbreaker and The Walk-In (with former CIA operative Gary Berntsen), At the Fall of Somoza, Plunging into Haiti (winner of the Douglas Dillon Award for Distinguished Writing on American Diplomacy), Most Evil (with Steve Hodel), Eve Missing, Blood of My Blood, Left of Boom (with CIA case officer Douglas Laux), and Full Battle Rattle.
Also by Don Mann and Ralph Pezzullo
The SEAL Team Six Series
Hunt the Dragon
Hunt the Fox
Hunt the Jackal
Hunt the Falcon
Hunt the Scorpion
Hunt the Wolf
Inside SEAL Team Six:
My Life and Missions with America’s Elite Warriors
Table of Contents
Cover
Title Page
Copyright
Dedication
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Cha
pter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Acknowledgments
Discover More Don Mann
About the Authors
Also by Don Mann and Ralph Pezzullo
