by Andrew Watts
Victoria said, “What do you mean? In the EASTPAC? Counternarcotic, mostly. Some training exercises with the UK and some South American countries.”
Chase looked grim. “That could change.”
She didn’t like this. Chase never got rattled. A former officer in the SEAL community, he had been on several deployments in the Middle East. Her brother was, although it was still hard for her to fathom, a decorated war hero. When he’d left the teams a year and a half ago, he smiled as he told her that he was going to be working for the Department of State.
She knew that men like Chase didn’t take jobs like that. Not that there was anything wrong with working in the diplomatic community. But serving in that capacity wouldn’t have scratched the itch for him. He was an operator, and an adrenaline junkie. She knew that Chase was involved in something more…exciting.
The night of their mother’s funeral, the three siblings had drowned their sorrows at McGarvey’s Pub in Annapolis. Chase always had loose lips when he drank. That was when Victoria usually pressed him about his relationships, so she could report back to Mom. Back when Mom was still around. But that night at the pub, Chase had admitted to her that he was going to work for the CIA as a member of their Special Operations Group. It would be similar work to what he was already doing, but it would open up a host of other opportunities within the CIA.
Victoria thought about the reason the CIA would send him here, to her ship. It was highly irregular. She tried once more. “What are you doing here, Chase?”
He shook his head. Then he looked down at the water. A school of fish were causing ripples on the surface, going after bugs. “I can’t tell you what I’m doing here. But you saw me meet with your ship captain. If you guys are needed, we delivered a mission packet to the captain of your ship. Even he isn’t supposed to read it unless you get the call. And Victoria, if you are needed…” He looked up from the water and into her eyes. “Just be careful. Okay?”
“My God, Chase, you’re starting to scare the shit out of me. Something must be really wrong. Does this have to do with the Beltway attack?”
He looked at his watch. “Time for me to run.” He reached over and gave her a great big bear hug. “Love you, sis. Good luck.”
She watched him walk down the pier, hop in a cab and disappear. The executive officer, the number two in charge on the ship, walked up next to her on the flight deck. He was already wearing his civilian clothes.
“Air Boss,” he greeted her.
“XO.”
“Just had a talk with the captain. Seems like we’re going to be changing our operating area for this international exercise next week.”
“Oh? Where are we headed?”
“Somewhere in between the Galapagos and Ecuador.”
“The captain say anything else? Like what the hell those two men just briefed him on?”
“Not really. Just that we need to go into a geographic box next week and stay there in case they need us.”
“Need us for what?”
He shrugged. “He didn’t say.”
The XO pulled out a cigar. They were selling Cubans on the pier. He probably got it there. He looked up the dock and saw that they were getting ready to fuel the ship. He cursed and placed the cigar back in his breast pocket. “Come on, Victoria, I ain’t got all day. Get your civvies on. Let’s get out of here. We all need to have a stiff drink tonight.”
She rolled her eyes. “Alright. I guess it’s time for our mandatory fun.”
While Victoria wasn’t excited about hanging out with the captain, she had to admit that the meal was excellent. Steak and lobster at one of the best local restaurants, and as an appetizer, the most delicious ceviche she’d ever tasted. They hadn’t stayed out long. The duty van brought them back almost as soon as their meal was done.
Now, the captain, Victoria, and the XO sat at a picnic table about one hundred yards down the pier from where the USS Farragut was parked. The captain wanted to smoke his cigar before they got back on the ship.
She had no objections. There was a distinct pull that all seafaring men felt. Whenever in port, it was best to be off the ship.
The captain removed two more cigars and handed them to the XO and her.
“No, thank you, sir.”
“Suit yourself.”
She was a little tipsy from the wine from dinner. “Oh, what the hell. Pass it over. I don’t think I’ve had a cigar since college.”
The XO smiled. “This stuff is the secret to happiness.”
The rich, pungent aroma of Cuban tobacco filled the air.
The captain began, “Alright, folks, here it is.”
She had wondered when he would get down to business. It had been all small talk and football over dinner. A few sea stories. But oddly, nothing about what was coming up. And nothing about the mysterious visit from Chase and the other commander.
“We’re going to get underway tomorrow afternoon.”
The captain turned to the XO. “When we get back on board in a few minutes, tell the officer of the deck to cancel all leave and liberty starting at zero eight hundred tomorrow. Once people return, they are to stay aboard. I don’t even want people getting off the ship to go to the vendors. Air Boss, you are to start drilling your aircrew for multimission operations. XO, I want a general quarters, unannounced, right at lunchtime tomorrow.”
“While we’re ashore, Captain?”
“Yes.”
Victoria said, “Sir, what exactly does ‘multimission operations’ mean?”
The captain shrugged. “Hell if I know. Everything, I guess. You’re the aviator.”
Victoria wasn’t sure if she should admit that Chase had given her any hints, but she had to try and get more information. “Sir, is there a mission packet for me?”
The captain eyed her. “There is. But my instructions were to leave it in my safe unless we get told to open it.”
Victoria said nothing.
The XO said, “Sir, may I ask what’s going on?”
The captain took a puff from his cigar and slowly exhaled. “I wish I could tell you, XO, but to be quite honest, other than the geographic box they want us to stay in, I don’t really know.”
Juan watched in amusement as Plug lost his shirt. The night started off innocently enough. The four pilots had gone to their hotel—the Marriot—in Panama City. The other two junior pilots were both married and immediately attempted every possible method of communicating with their families. With much of the Internet’s functionality still seriously damaged from the attacks of a few weeks ago, all video chat options—normally a mainstay of liberty stops—were out of the question. That meant that they had to call via good old-fashioned telephone.
Juan would have been happy to just grab a meal and hang out by the hotel’s outdoor pool, relaxing in the seventy-five-degree December weather in Panama.
But Plug had other plans. He wasn’t married, but he was always looking. And he was a HAC. A Helicopter Aircraft Commander. Aside from Victoria, Plug was the only other HAC on this deployment. So inside the aircraft, he was in charge when flying with one of the junior pilots. He was a rank higher than the three junior pilots but treated them as peers when they were out of the cockpit. Unless it suited his needs to pull rank—say, for instance, if he wanted to go out drinking, and others didn’t.
In a way, the social structure resembled high school. Juan and the other junior pilots were like freshmen, and Plug was like a senior. It was cool to hang out with a senior, if given the opportunity. So Juan agreed to go “out on the town” with Plug.
What could go wrong?
When Plug finished off a twelve pack of beers before they even left the hotel room, Juan began to wonder if perhaps he had made the wrong decision.
Several hours of bars, “exclusive nightclubs,” and casinos later, Juan sat nursing an ice water, exhausted. They were in a private poker room at the Casino Panama. Throughout the night, it had become apparent that Juan was going to be Plug’s babysit
ter. As Juan saw it, Plug was going to drink, smoke, and hit on as many women as he could until he either self-destructed or passed out.
Juan looked at him and shook his head. Plug had just reraised the ante at his table before they had even dealt the cards. This was a faux pas in a friendly game of poker, let alone the high-roller table he sat at now. Plug had finagled his way into a seat at this private game.
“Sir, please wait until it is your turn,” said the dealer in heavily accented English.
Plug scraped his chips back to the pile in front of him.
The other players all seemed to know each other. Juan could tell because they were having friendly conversations in Spanish together. Plug could barely understand English in his current drunken stupor, so he was at what one might call a disadvantage.
Juan was pretty sure the other players were colluding, although they didn’t have to. Plug was quite capable of giving away all of his money without any help. Several times he had even shown his cards by accident. A mix of groans and laughter erupted from the table each time.
“Sir, are you with him?” The man who spoke to Juan looked like the manager.
“Unfortunately.”
“I’m afraid that we’ll have to ask him to leave after this hand.”
“I understand. Thanks,” said Juan.
Juan went up and tapped Plug on the shoulder.
He turned and looked surprised. “Juan! What are you doing here?”
“I’ve been with you all night.”
“Tremendous! Have a seat. We were just playing cards. Me and my new buddies.”
Juan glanced up at the table. A few waved at him. Juan said, “Plug, man, listen, we need to go after this.”
Plug looked serious. “Got it.” He turned to the dealer and said, “All in.”
“Señor, you just folded.”
“Okay, next hand, then.”
The dealer shot Juan a look.
Juan tried another tactic. “Hey, Plug, I know a place where we can get some really good pizza near the hotel.”
“Really?”
“Yeah, come on.”
He turned back to the dealer. “Sorry, guys, I gotta run.”
Smiles and waves. Card sharks loved drunks and amateurs more than they loved aces.
Once outside the casino, they ran into a horde of enlisted sailors from the ship. They were hailing cabs, about to head back to the pier. Only the E-5s and above were allowed overnights.
Plug yelled, “Hey! I know you guys! Say, you guys wanna have some fun?”
Juan tried to steer Plug away, but it was too late. Some of the sailors, happy to laugh at a drunken officer and pilot, replied in the affirmative.
As the sailors got into their cabs, Plug took out a wad of cash from his wallet, handing what must have been two hundred American dollars to each cab driver.
He turned to Juan. “Okay. Now this is important. I need you to tell them something in Panamanian—or Mexican. Your choice. Tell the drivers that the money I have given them is for a race.” He said the word “race” loudly and slowly, while looking at the drivers. “They are to race each other back to the boat, and to show these men a good time.”
Plug swayed while he spoke. Then he looked at his shipmates, already packed into the two cabs like sardines. He held up his finger high in the air. “It is a race to the death!” The sailors cheered. Plug then looked at Juan, trying to focus on his face. “If they need more money, I can go back to the poker table. Tell them. Tell them in Spanish this time.”
Juan patted Plug on the shoulder. “Sure thing.”
He stood in front of the cabs. Both cab drivers leaned out their windows, smiling. They looked thrilled to get the extra cash.
Juan said loudly in Spanish, “My friend said to tell you to drive really fast until you get around the corner, and then to slow down and drive safe. Have a good night.”
The drivers gave a thumbs-up. One of them revved his engine, and the other followed. More cheers from the passengers.
Plug turned to Juan. “Did you tell them?”
“Oh yes.” He smiled as the first car sped off for the first fifty feet and then began driving normally. The second car followed suit. Boisterous cheers from both cars.
Plug slapped his knee. “Awesome.”
Juan smiled. “Come on, we’ve got to get back to the hotel.”
Plug nodded and held up a finger to wait. Then he turned and vomited on the sidewalk.
Juan sighed. He turned out to the street. “Taxi!”
Plug screamed at the top of his lungs, “Whooo! Glad I got that out of my system.” He looked at Juan suspiciously. “Did you put something in my food?”
Juan held up his hands and shook his head.
“Alright, well, it’s time for us to go start drinking.”
A taxi pulled up.
Juan said, “Plug, I really think we should go back to the hotel.”
A group of the ship’s officers stuck their heads out of a cab driving by. They screamed the name of another well-known bar. “Meet us there!”
Plug gave a thumbs-up. His eyes were out of focus. He dove into the waiting taxi and yelled. “Follow that car!”
Juan sighed and got in the passenger seat. He checked his watch. This would be the last time he would make the mistake of babysitting Plug.
Plug awoke to the sound of knocking. Each knock struck his head like a hammer. His surroundings came into focus and he realized that he was in a hotel room.
He looked to his left and saw two women in his bed. One wore a bright red thong. The other was buck naked. Both were stunning Latin women. Dark hair, tan. Lots of makeup.
They were a beautiful sight, but he didn’t care. He only wanted his head to stop hurting. He wondered if he would make it to the toilet before he threw up. Thankfully, he did, barely. He turned the faucet on, washing the sour taste out of his mouth, wondering what god he had upset to deserve this horrible feeling.
Images of the night before flashed through his head. Through the pain of his massive hangover, he knew that they had started off in a hotel room. Those pansy-ass married 2Ps didn’t even want to go out. They just wanted to talk on their phones and make kissy noises with their wives. So he ended up going out with their most junior pilot, Juan. He was kind of a nerd, and a truly awful pilot, but a nice enough dude.
Plug remembered that they had gone to a casino. He was pretty sure that he lost money there, but he remembered they had a good time…then he didn’t remember much after that. He thought they might have gone to a nightclub. Some of the ship guys were there.
Plug looked over at the bed. The two sleeping beauties were still there. He honestly had no idea how the three of them had ended up here. Or for that matter, where they were.
Knocks at the door again, and he remembered what woke him up. The room was spinning. God, he was still drunk. He threw his clothes on, hobbling over to the door. He cracked it open.
The three 2Ps smiled back at him.
Caveman, with the biggest shit-eating grin ever, said, “Have a nice night, HAC?”
Juan said, “Thank God. I was gonna be pissed if you were dead in a ditch somewhere.”
“Dudes. Why are you knocking? What time is it?” he asked.
Plug opened the door a little more, and the 2Ps looked beyond him. They saw two pairs of bare legs lying on the bed and their smiles got wider.
Juan said, “You’re not going to like this, but we have to go. We already packed up your stuff.”
Plug was confused. Maybe it was the alcohol. “Did you say we have to go? We have this hotel for one more night, I thought. What are you talking about?”
“Shore patrol’s been coming around. Everyone’s getting recalled to the ship. Again. We have to go now. Ship’s leaving today. Come on.”
He looked back at the women on the bed. One of them sat up, a coy smile on her face. She partially covered her chest with one arm.
Plug looked back at the 2Ps. “Have I ever told you how m
uch I really hate you guys?”
A few hours later, Plug sat on the flight deck, leaning up against the hangar door, as the ship began to pick up speed. The breeze felt good. The rolling did not.
His head pounded. He wore sunglasses and a fitted dark blue squadron cap to hide how hungover he still was. His flight suit was zipped down a bit too low. A rim of sweat formed on his brow. He had a large plastic water bottle that he sipped from every few minutes. He needed some Advil.
“You alright, Plug?”
Air Boss walked over, a sympathetic look on her face. Of course she knew. She never missed anything.
He tried to sit up a little straighter in front of his boss. “They got me good on this one. Telling us that we’re going to have several days in port like that and then rounding us all up while we’ve been…”
“Drinking?”
“Relaxing.”
She smiled and pulled up a fold-up chair. “I’d like to tell you that you can hit the rack and recuperate, but there’s a reason we left port this morning, instead of three days from now.”
He sipped more water from the water bottle and then got off his ass and stood up. The combination of the ship’s increasing rolls and his blood alcohol mix not quite being back to normal made him almost fall down. He grabbed hold of the flight deck railing.
Plug said, “What’s the story?”
She told him what little she knew.
“So…multimission operations. What does that mean? Like—be ready for anything?”
Victoria nodded. “That’s the way I understand it. Can you gather up everyone and have them here for a quick meeting?”
Plug knew that by everyone, she meant the members of the aviation detachment. His eighteen enlisted maintenance men, the two enlisted rescue swimmers, and the three junior pilots.
“I can have them here in ten minutes, boss.” A part of his brain was fighting through the fog, telling him that her mannerisms signaled something big was going on.
“Thanks.” She smiled, crossed her legs and opened her notebook.
Plug walked carefully down the shadowy port hangar, squeezing through the narrow space between the helicopter and the hull, stepping over the chains that tied the helicopter down.
