by Noah Waters
Throughout the NMIC, there were storage centers of various sizes and shapes that protected the United States’s vast repository of naval and coast guard history. The center held the library of libraries for intelligence gathering and storage—a repository that Baker had used quite often. Tonight, however, he could not conceive of even where to start. His best approach would be carpe diem—seize the day. In other words, one day at a time, one piece of intelligence at a time, one reported threat at a time.
Stepping off the elevator, the chill of the night air seemed warm compared to the Command Center’s watch floor—kept at freezing temperatures. The watch floor had large theater screens that provided imagery, should imagery be needed, and hundreds of computers buzzed to a regular tune. Before Baker reached his destination the night reports officer approached. “Thought you might like to see this, sir. Just came in over the wire.”
“Hmm,” Baker’s eyes swept over the report. “Looks like our vessel may have stopped a couple of places, maybe the port of Yemen as well as a port off the Somali coastline. Do we have confirmation on this?”
“No, sir, not at this time.”
“She’s still headed to San Francisco?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Background on crew?”
“Negative, sir.”
“Any reports from customs on loading or unloading?”
“Still checking, sir.”
“Any embarkation or debarkation?”
“Not that’s been reported, sir.”
A quick sigh was released by the commander.
“This is enough for me. The mere fact she might have stopped in either one of these ports is enough for us to board her. Provide the intelligence down to the district.”
“Yes, sir.” In the blink of an eye, the night reports officer was gone.
Baker knew the Command Center like the back of his hand. The watch floor had visual limitations because of the extreme darkness. This allowed a large variety of analysts to constantly monitor hundreds of computer screens—each populating folders with intelligence reports from all over the world. Baker didn’t need to see—his feet knew the way.
Circumventing pieces of equipment, he finally found the commander’s chair. Taking a seat, he leaned back.
Why would she stop unexpectedly and what would she stop for? he thought. His concern was that she wasn’t unloading, but loading and in this particular region of the world the possibilities of what could be loaded were endless.
“Lieutenant,” Baker leaned to his left.
“Yes, sir.”
“Notify customs in San Francisco. Provide them a quick brief on the Calla Lily.”
“Aye, aye, sir.”
Baker had done all he could do for the moment. It would now be up to D-11. It was his hope and prayer that the locals would send out their best crew. Whatever was on board the ship could actually reach the shore. Containment of a threat, once in port, was not the problem. At least, it never had been in the past.
Chapter XVIII
THE SLIGHT BREEZE CAUSED CASEY TO HAVE TO PULL A LITTLE HARDER AS he opened up the side door of the taxi. “Your palace ride awaits, my lady.”
“Thank you, sir,” Noah replied sarcastically. “Who knew I would have to come to San Francisco to find my prince.”
Casey’s sweet smile could be seen through the shadows of the night as the San Francisco moon reflected in his eyes. Having dropped Rachel off, Noah and Casey were now at the towers in Jack London Square—their current home. Casey fumbled through the wad of one-dollar bills finding a twenty to tip the driver.
“Who would have thought we would have been brought back together so soon,” Noah said.
“The circumstances are bad, but I’m glad you’re here,” Casey gazed at Noah.
“I wouldn’t want to be in a bad situation with backup needed with anyone but you.”
Noah smiled. She knew the trust between them had been tested. This was a trust that two people would need to complete a risky mission.
The chilly breeze caused Noah to gather her coat. “I’m tired.”
“Yeah, me too,” Casey said. “It was a lovely evening and it’s good to see you again.” With that said, Casey and Noah bounded up the staircase going their separate ways.
Stepping inside the apartment, Noah threw her keys on the kitchen counter, removing her coat and glancing over to the large garden tub. “I can’t get in fast enough—a hot bath”—shrugging her shoulders as the idea of a relaxing soak seemed like an excellent idea. Turning to hit the light switch in the hallway, a red constant blink appeared on the telephone base. I didn’t know I had fans here, she thought. Picking up the receiver and pressing the number 9, the voice mail responded.
“Petty Officer Waters, this is Gramps.” We are going to need you to report in at 0400. Come in full gear.”
Noah immediately looked at her watch. It was 1 A.M. “Geez, 3 hours sleep.” Before the receiver could be replaced, a beep interrupted. Pushing the switch button, Noah replied, “Hello.”
“Did you get a call?” Casey questioned on the other end.
“Yes, you?”
“Yes,” he replied—0400.”
“Yes.”
“No time for conversation,” Casey stated. “See you then.” The dial tone was all that remained. Noah proceeded with a sign of discontent as she reached in and turned the light off. The long, hot bath would have to wait—more like a quick shower—would have to do for now.
Putting all her gear together for an early jump start exhausted Noah. While scrambling through the various San Francisco channels on the FM station, the brief announcement of the incoming storm caused her to pause. One hundred percent chance of rain, constant winds of 30 miles per hour, possible high sea swells would result in a maritime warning at some point. Too tired to actually take in the data, Noah positioned the clock dial to 3:30 A.M. After all, the base was only 2 minutes away. The alarm was set. Finally, placing her head upon the fluffy goose-down pillow to find a moment of solitude and piece, Noah, lay in the darkness not realizing the scene for a full-scale attack on America had been set.
Chapter XIX
THE RUMBLING CONTINUED ACROSS THE DARKENED SKIES AT A DISTANCE. THE pink light provided a gentle glow across Bobby’s face. Leaning down to unbuckle her sandal straps, Rachel could see that Bobby’s face was as smooth as newborn baby’s skin. Beside the night-light lay a small note card with a rose placed in front of it.
“Rachel wake me when you arrive. I have something important to discuss. Love always, Bobby.” A sudden sinking feeling caused Rachel to exhale gently blowing the strands of hair.
Rachel was afraid her greatest fear was about to unfold. Her thoughts turned back to a beautiful park positioned directly above the San Francisco Bay. The day was sunny, the breeze was warm, and there were families scattered about with children playing volley ball. The picnic Bobby had provided was that of a 5-Star chef. Dom Perignon, sizzled steak cut into small thin slices—medium rare and marinated in a Teriyaki sauce—Rachel’s favorite dish.
Small red potatoes slightly buttered and placed in individual containers with a Spinach salad covered with feta cheese.
“A special occasion?” Rachel asked Bobby once she had viewed the prepared meal.
“Rachel, everyday is special with you.” Bobby had been enormously patient over the past years. They had known each other since they were children. Although they both had dated others, no one had come close to providing the comfort, the care, or the gentle nurturing that they provided each other. Rachel had been slightly naive. Although she considered their relationship to be eternal, she had never thought beyond each individual meeting.
Spreading the red-checkered quilt across the ground, the sun flickered on Bobby’s glistening hair, sweet and gentle. Bobby was known throughout the engineering world. He had a genius IQ and his dream was to be the best architect that money could buy. No doubt, he was a fine catch all the way around—every girl’s dream.
Bobby wanted children and to design and build a home high above the San Francisco Bay. Settling down was one of his primary goals. To break the tension, Rachel spotted a swing set and ran down the hill telling him, “Catch me if you can.” Within seconds her feet swept off the ground as she plopped onto its leather seat. Bobby laughed. As Rachel proceeded to swing higher, he reached out to grab her legs. “You caught me,” Rachel giggled.
“Did I?” he questioned, slowly pulling the swing to a complete halt. His long, tanned narrow face leaned closely inward until his lips touched Rachel’s ear. He whispered shockingly, “Will you marry me?”
Rachel’s mind started spinning, her stomach tightened as if all the years she had known him had confronted her all at once. There had been fights and disagreements on the number of children, if any at all, and the thought of living permanently in one place frightened her. They were both young. The world was huge, there was so much to see and do—cultures to learn and understand, countries to be explored, and knowledge to be gained.
Rachel’s silence provided Bobby his answer. As he leaned upright, his voice dropped. “There should not be one second of hesitation, Rachel,” as he let go of her legs. He proceeded up the hill reaching down to pick up the quilt as a child’s ball rolled across the lawn in front of him. The laughter of a small 4-year-old boy confronted him directly.
“Here you go, champ” said Bobby picking up the ball. From the distance, Rachel could see his eyes. The sun reflected a glistening tear as it rolled down his cheek. The little boy took the ball and ran back to a group of children.
Within moments, Bobby had folded the quilt into a perfect square while returning the carefully prepared meal to the basket. No use wasting this, he thought angrily. He pulled the cork with his teeth the rest of the way out of the bottle. Within minutes he guzzled the remnants as if to swallow the memory that had just been created.
“I’ll drop you back off, Rach.”
Rachel slowly rose from the swing. Bobby fumbled through his pockets, his fingers trembling as he searched for the key—tossing the picnic basket directly into the backseat of his beloved jet black Porsche. Reaching for the safety belt, he said nothing more. As Rachel got in on the passenger side and secured her position, she felt she had only one thing to say.
“Bobby, I wasn’t expecting that.”
“Isn’t that the way it is suppose to be, Rachel? Aren’t proposals supposed to be out of the blue—a surprise? Something romantically delivered in a special place and time.”
“But you know my dream is to be a military reporter and you know there is nothing stable about the military in any way, shape, or form. How can we meet in the middle, Bobby?” Rachel’s last few words were drowned out by the humming of the perfectly timed Porsche engine picking up speed. Reaching up, Bobby pulled out his tinted Oakley shades.
“It’s a beautiful day. It’s a perfect day. I think I’d better take you home.”
The exquisite light that flashed outside the apartment window broke Rachel’s concentration. Behind the split-second lightning was a small rumble. Sitting on the side of the bed, she reached out to pick up the long-stemmed rose and placed it gently to her upper lip. She combed her face slightly with the velvet petals and inhaled its wonderful scent. Looking over her right shoulder, Bobby’s long, lean body looked like that of Adonis—lying between the snow-white satin sheets. As she looked at the clock, Rachel thought Should I wake him now or should I wait? It would soon be dawn. What would Bobby ask and more importantly how would she respond? Another tweak of lightning flashed lighting up the entire sky—within seconds Rachel could hear the thumping of small beaded raindrops beating against the windowpane.
Chapter XX
THE SECURITY OFFICER PACED AS THE RAINDROPS CONTINUED TO BEAT DOWN.
“What a crappy day.”
His partner sat in a small, gated booth with his feet up on the desk and replied, “Glad it’s your turn to be outside.”
The bright light turned and reflected directly on the gatepost windows. The guard with his feet up responded, “Incoming.”
“No joke” replied the outside officer in a sarcastic tone.
The black jeep approached with both wipers in action. Suddenly, the outside officer came to immediate attention.
With a quick snap of a salute, “Good morning, sir.”
“Good morning,” Commander Dewey replied. “At least, I hope it is. Looks like the weather is going to get worse over the next couple of days.”
“Yes, sir,” was all the security officer was able to reply.
“Stay out of the rain,” Dewey directed the officer.
“Yes, sir,” responded the guard.
Dewey was driving diligently, for even at this hour of the morning, there would be petty officers out jogging—rain or no rain. The Coast Guard cutters lay sleeping in their berths while a few people mingled about with umbrellas. The gym lights were already on. Dewey was happy to see this for he had a task to accomplish this morning.
Two U.S. sea marshals were going to be assigned a special task and even though they were considered to be top-notch marshals they needed to be put to an ultimate test. A high-risk deployment team would be used in the extreme conditions of severe weather and they must deploy at a moment’s notice. Pulling in to a front parking space that belonged to him, Dewey reached over to grab his coffee mug to take one last swig before tackling the rain. Might as well get started, he thought. She’s coming in rain or not, Dewey mentally referenced the Calla Lily.
As he leaned to the left to push open the driver’s door, the chill in the air could now be called a definitely cold wet wind. Gathering up his collar tightly about his neck, Dewey took a quick run toward the gym steps, the rain slightly stinging his face along the way. As the door shut behind him, he suddenly came to a complete halt—a pleasant sight before eyes. Everything was in its place, the test was ready.
Dewey hoped that light would break soon. However, in these weather conditions, one could never tell. He often compared an old Rice-A-Roni cooking commercial to the weather. You never knew what Mother Nature would provide—a treat or a sticky mess. The sudden ringing of a bell from a side room caught his attention. It was the telephone in the main office. Dewey quickly entered the office as the ringing continued. Glaring at the phone, his immediate hope was that nothing had gone wrong. The ringing grew louder.
Chapter XXI
THE SHARP RINGING BROKE THE SILENCE OF THE NIGHT. HER RIGHT HAND slapped at the desk knocking over the water glass as she finally managed to grab the clock.
Jiminy Crickets, is it time to get up already? Noah thought.
Thinking she would grab at least five more minutes of sleep, she hit the snooze button. The night had gone by quickly. As she lay in the silence, she could hear the pitter-patter of the raindrops outside. Whatever was planned for the day, she hoped it would be inside. Noah hated the cold, and the raindrops added a dreary sound to the stillness of the gray dawn.
She slowly rolled over pulling the covers that much tighter—resisting getting up to the end. Where was her beach not to mention her sun. The clapping of the thunder grew louder.
“I hear you. I know it’s time to get up.” Tumbling off the side of the bed, she reached for her robe. Thank goodness she had prepared the coffee pot so she could smell the sweet aroma of French Vanilla in the air. Reaching down to turn on the television, the weather report would be the news of the day. The weatherman’s forecast for the next 4-to-5 days was nothing but rainstorms, possibly high winds and maritime warnings to be announced. “I thought California was suppose to be decent weather,” she mumbled to herself. Where do all the tan people come from? she wondered. Bringing the coffee cup slowly up to her lips, the extremely strong version that she had learned to make early on in life helped her eyelids snap open—permanently open.
Grabbing her blue BDU, Noah proceeded to get ready for the day. Casey would be by shortly to pick her up, which meant nothing more than him proceeding down the elevator
and through the hall. Slowly fastening each button with dedicated precision, ensuring that her gig line was straighter than an arrow, she secured her belt tightly around her waist. She slicked back her long chocolate brown hair into a tight ponytail, doubling it so that no hair would be below the collar, keeping it out of mechanical devices. A quick glance to the right, to the left, across each top to include the heel, she could see the reflection of her hazel eyes from any side of her boot. The top of the shoelaces where tightly pulled, laced around the front and back of her legs and secured inside the boot tongue for safety. Her thin eyebrows arched perfectly high cheekbones that reflected a pink glossy skin tone—the result of years of fresh vegetables and country living. Her arms revealed a toned, muscular shape in spite of her petite figure. Measuring the rolled cuffs on each sleeve so that they matched, she reviewed each in the full-length mirror.
A slight knock came from the door. Turning with an about-face, she proceeded into the living room, removing the chain lock opening the door just a crack in order to see a sweet, early morning smile.
“Good morning, Sunshine,” Casey whispered.
“Do you see any sun?” Noah replied frowning.
“There’s always sun shining in my world.”
“Then you need to bring it to San Francisco,” Noah quipped.
Casey stepped forward into the kitchen.
“What kind of coffee is that? It smells really strong.”
