Stephen Coonts - Jake Grafton 2 - Final Flight

by Final Flight (lit)

  "Uncle." The old man @. face was like chiseled stone. He gathered the camels that had been taken and roped them together.

  The three had ridden for several miles when they heard the faint echo of a shot.

  The old man reined his camel in and looked about wildly. He turned in the saddle and looked toward the west, where the shot must have been fired.

  Then he dropped the lead rope and beat his mount into a gallop. Qazi and the cousin followed. They found the lone camel standing amid a patch of lava stones and thorn bushes in a shallow depression. The boy with the missing hand lay on the ground the barrel of the rifle in his mouth, his toe on the trigger. His brains lay in the sand above the body.

  His younger brother sat at his feet.

  The old man prostrated himself toward the rising sun. The sun rose higher and higher into the cloudless sky. "Allah, I have believed in the woriLs of your Prophet all my days. I have read the book and followed the book. I have kept the faith of my fathers. I have obeyed the law. I have raised my sons to obey the law. But it is not enough." "Uncle," Qazi said. "Do not blaspheme.

  He hears everything." The old man rose from the ground. His face was lined and his beard was gray.

  "The book is not enough for a simple man like me.

  Allah knows. "He had looked about him at the stones and sand and the merciless sky and the twisted body.

  "Not enough." They buried the dead boy. They took the other boy home with them and he was taken in by the old man's @. eldest son.

  Three years later the old man sent Qazi north to the city to join the army. The small radio crackled to life. "This one is okay." "Roger." Qazi started the engine and put the van in gear.

  As he drove away he looked in the driver's mirror at the hangar lights and the ungainly machines. The rotors were spread now, and they flapped gently in the rising breeze. The wind was gusting.

  The book is not enough. His uncle had been right about that. But perhaps, Qazi thought, the Prophet was right and paradise will be better than this life. Perhaps not.

  Wherever the old man was, that was where Qazi wished to be. If tonight's scheme went awry, he well knew, he would join the old man very soon. Ah web perhaps it was time.

  0 0 0 "You're really serious about adopting?" Jake and Callie were walking past the Royal Palace, under the hite marble statues of the medieval kings of Naples. They joked, Jake thought, appropriately hairy and fierce, clad in their rmor with swords in hand. Across the street, around the fountain the Piazza del Plebiscito, clusters of teenage girls were flirting with the swarms of boys cruising on their Vespas and motocross bikes. Every now and then a girl hiked her skirt up, swung onto the back of the seat, and the boy blasted off into traffic. Apparently this was the place if you were young and growing up in apoli.

  "I went to see the agency about four months ago.

  We would have to wait years for a baby. And these older children who need special love and care, they spend their lives bouncing from foster home to foster home." "So if we ask for a baby, we really won't be helping." "Oh, Jake." She squeezed his hand. "That's precisely it. I've met Amy Carol about five times, and she needs a family. And we can be that family for her." "Tell me about her." Callie began with a physical description.

  They rounded the corner of the castle and picked their way through the parking lot, past the entrance to the Galleria Umberto, and around the scafolding on the front of the opera house. Jake noticed several prostitutes standing on the steps to the Galleria, but Callie was escribing the little girl's emotional problems and paid no attention.

  A hundred feet further on he saw a tall, willowy woman in spike eels and a black dress standing under the light on the corner cross the street.

  Her low-cut, strapless dress clung to her figure ike cellophane and only came down to midthigh. She was busy djusting her bosom.

  Callie was reciting Amy Carol's family history.

  Callie stopped dead on the sidewalk, in mid-sentence, and Jake jerked his head from the far corner. Directly in front of them on the sidewalk a woman with exposed breasts stood talking to a man eaning from a car.

  She wore high heels and some type of black lngerie, but her breasts were completely bare. A transparent robe was draped around her shoulders.

  keep walking, Jake urged. Callie looked the woman up and down and gave the man in the car a piercing glance, which he ignored.

  Ten paces further on three motor scooters drew to the curb The young male drivers each had a teenage girl behind him. They chatted excitedly, looking back at the working hooker. Jake and Callie kept walking. The boys eased the scooters into motion and made a U-turn.

  Jake looked back over his shoulder. The scooter" made another U-turn and swung into the curb where the car had been. The woman surveyed the teenagers with disdain and the Italian came loud and fast, audible even above the traffic.

  "Stop gawking, Grafton," Callie ordered.

  "She's a 36 C-cup and needs dental work." She's lying about the teeth, Jake told himself.

  Not even Callie had been looking at her mouth.

  "I wonder where we could get you an outfit like that?" "Oooh, you men! You like that, huh?" She began to sasha along, rolling her shoulders and hips.

  "Just admiring the local color." Callie was still doing it. Pedestrians were staring. "Stop that!" "Twenty thousand lire." "What?" If she kept on, she was going to need a chiropracto "Twenty thousand lire, sailor, and I no givva da kisses." "How much for kisses too?" "More than you gotta, sailor boy. Only da real men get kisses." A loafer on the grass whistled at her and she dropped the charade, grasping Jake's arm tightly and laughing.

  "Amy Carol's gonna have a real fireball for a mom," Jake sai and led her toward the promenade around the Castel Nuovo.

  They stood against the rail of the moat and watched the ve dors roasting food in makeshift barbecues on the sidewalk. Wor ing-class families out for the evening sat on the grass and a roasted ears of corn and pieces of chicken. Dogs with noses to the ground charged through the crowd searching for abandoned delicacies.

  Jake counted five young couples, three on the promena) and two on the grass, locked in passionate embraces.

  The tinny beep cacophony of motor scooter and car horns was the perfect accompaniment.

  Napkins and food wrappers were swept away by rising wind.

  "Saturday night in Naples." 'allyou enjoy Naples, don't you?" Callie asked, and brushed back blowing hair from her face.

  Jake grinned broadly and led her on. They crossed the bouled that led down to fleet landing and strolled down the Via pretis, which paralleled the Via Medina, a block to the west. zlor bars and pizza shops lined the east side of the street.

  Jake Callie dropped into an empty table at a sidewalk bar and had wine as pairs, threesomes, and foursomes of American whores in civilian clothes wandered by, noisy tourists in search of action." The Graftons were walking hand in hand when a young man out of an alley, collided with Jake, and went sprawling. Jake ost fell, but Callie steadied him. 'Sorry." The man scrambled to his feet.

  'What's the rush?" Jake demanded.

  The man was four steps down the street when he pulled up and began to stare at Jake. "CAG?

  Captain Grafton?" "That's me." "Jesus, sir." He came rushing back.

  "Sorry I about flattened ya.

  our cat captain is in there," he gestured up the alley, "and he's loaded and there's gonna be a fight." "Who are you?" "Airman Gardner, sir. Cat Four." "Kowalski your cat captain?" "Yes sir, and he's one drunk motherfucker..

  .. Excuse me, 'am." The sailor nodded at Callie and flushed. "He's pretty drunk, sir, and I can't get him outta there and the barkeep is going" to call the shore patrol and I was going' for help." Gardner didn't look a day over eighteen.

  "Callie, you go back to the hotel. I'll see you there after a awhile." She pecked him on the cheek. "Okay." She winked and began looking back toward the piazza.

  Jake watched her go, her skirt irling.

  "Com'on, sir,"
Gardner urged. "Them shore patrollers will be along any minute." He tugged at Jake's sleeve.

  The bar was a red-light dive that catered to sailors. Several dozen were there when Jake walked through the door. Kowa] was in one corner with his legs splayed out and his shirt rippe) bar stool in his hands. If he were left alone, gravity would sc conquer his fireplug body. "Alright, you cocksuckers, which gonna be first?" Another man wearing a red-and-yellow shirt stood facing and wagging his finger at the cat captain's face. He looked aIm as drunk as Kowalski.

  Behind the bar an Italian in a white 5] with his sleeves rolled up was screaming, "Out out out. They coming. No fighting, no fighting. Out out out!" "Excuse me," Jake said to the drunk facing Kowalski, stepped by him.

  Jake stood up straight. "Ski, do you recognize me?" Kowalski stared. The bartender was roaring, "Out out out.

  Ski shook his head.

  "I'm Captain Grafton." Jake grasped the stool and pryed gently from Kowalski's grasp.

  He set it on the floor, then sh Ski's right hand and held it while he grasped his elbow and began to move him toward the door.

  "I want you to come with m "Yes sir," the petty officer mumbled, and shuffled in the direction he was pointed.

  "So long, you windbag motherfucker," the man with the and-yellow shirt jeered.

  Kowalski roared and tried to turn. Gardner punched him squarely in the jaw and his knees buckled.

  "Ooowww, Gardner moaned, and shook his hand.

  "I like your style, son," Grafton said, "but that's a good way to break your hand. Now help me get this tub of lard outta he, Gardner grabbed Ski's other arm and they dragged him out door.

  In the alley Gardner said, "I think I busted it." "They never do in the movies, do they? Come on, Ski, keep walking, goddammit, or we'll leave you for the shore patrol The petty officer's feet began to move. Jake steadied him one side while Gardner held him up on the other, his fore: jammed under Ski's armpit with his injured hand sticking out.

  He's a great cat captain, sir. You won't regret this." He's a fuckin' drunk. If we get him back to the ship without eone writing him up, he's going straight to rehab." Yes sir. Come on, Ski, walk." The cat captain was trying. They came out of the alley anded for fleet landing just as the Shore Patrol van pulled up. A tenant in whites with a Shore Patrol brassard on his left sleeve ped out and saluted. Jake recognized him. He was a Hornet on the United States.

  Want me to take him down to fleet landing, sir?" That means you have to write him up, right?" "I'm supposed to, GAG." 'I'll get him down there, and this sailor here can get him back the ship. I'll talk to the X0 about him tomorrow." 'allyes sir." "Thanks anyway. he lieutenant nodded.

  "But while you're here, there's a bar up the alley you'd better see. The bozo in the red-and-yellow shirt should go back to the van." 'allyes, sir." The officer turned and motioned to his men, who out of the van and followed him up the alley. ardner and Jake managed to get Ski back to his feet. After much prodding, he staggered along with one of them on each side.

  'Thanks, sir. He's really a fine petty officer and a helluva guy." 'allyeah." They had to pause several times for Ski to be sick. Some of it splashed on Jake's shoes and trousers. A few drops of rain began splatter on the pavement.

  just before they reached the boulevard by the Castel Nuovo, other Shore Patrol van pulled up.

  A chief in whites was driving. leaned across the petty officer in the passenger seat. "Want us take him on down to the landing?" "That's okay, Chief. We'll manage. The van's wipers were earing the water and dirt on the windshield. "Bad night for booze, sir. Already got a half dozen drunks in re." The chief jerked his thumb over his shoulder. "Naw," Jake said. "I appreciate it. But we'll get him there." "Aye aye, sir." The chief let out the clutch and the van moved away.

  "Com'on Ski. Wall:! I hope to hell you're worth our trouble." In the van one of the men spoke to the chief. "They took us for Americans, Colonel. We are going to succeed." Maybe, Qazi thought. If Allah wills it.

  The carabinieri on the gate to the quay didn't even look at Jake and Gardner as they marched Kowalski through. They followed the fence around to the right toward the area used by the carrier's boats. The intermittent raindrops were falling steadily now. The Shore Patrol van was parked by the little duty shack and the chief was talking to the embarkation officer. Six drunks in civilian clothes lay facedown in casualty litters under the awning and two Shore Patrolmen were strapping them in.

  "Got another basket?" Jake asked, holding Kowalski semierect with one hand and wiping the water from his hair with the other.

  "Yes sir. We have plenty," said the embarkation officer, a lieutenant (junior grade) named Rhodes. He jerked his head at the chief, who stepped over to the pile of baskets behind the shack and helped Gardner lift one off. The chief helped Jake lower Kowalski into it.

  "Mr. Rhodes," Jake sighed as he wiped his forehead with his sleeve and watched Gardner struggle with the litter straps with his one good hand.

  The chief bent down to help. "There's no report chit on this man. Just take him back to the ship and have him escorted to his bunk. I'll see the XO about him in the morning." "Aye aye, sir. Oh, I have a message for you. Lieutenant Tarkington left it." "He showed up, huh?" "Wandered in about two hours ago and I told him his liberty had been secured. He just nodded and asked for some paper. After he wrote this, he went back to the ship." The duty officer passed Jake a folded square of paper, apparently a sheet from a notebook. On the outside was written "CAPT Grafton." Jake walked away, unfolding the paper.

  "Thanks, Chief." Aye aye, sir.

  Jake glanced back at the name tag. "Dustin." The chief was in his early forties, dark hair flecked with gray, tanned and fit. No fat on that frame. "Aye aye, sir?" He should have said, "Yes, sir" or welcome, sir." "Aye aye" was used only to respond to an where do you work..." he started to ask Dustin, but the man had already turned away as another Shore Patrol van pulled lieutenant that Jake had talked to earlier stepped out and had two of his men escort the drunk in the multicolored shirt the litters.

  What is that lieutenant's name, Jake wondered. Flynn.

  and Dustin were having a conversation. Jake stepped enough to hear.

  ef, where were you this evening when we mustered? I even know you and your guys were out here tonight." got off the ship late, Mr. Flynn.

  And they sent us out to drunks." The chief shrugged.

  ois they? I'm in charge of detachment tonight, and I didn't now you were going to be here." eone screwed up, sir. I'm obviously here." turned to observe. Flynn was referring to a sheet of paper clipboard.

  on't even see you on this list." they told me to come ashore and bring two men and go get drunks." "Who the hell is they?" division officer." may have sent you ashore, but he didn't tell you to go pick nks. Who did?" me officer down in the Shore Patrol office.

  He was there I arrived on the beach a couple hours ago. utenant Commander Harrison?" was a lieutenant commander, sir. But I didn't notice his Il, he shouldn't have told you that. I didn't even know he ing to be in the office this evening. And with that shooting the Vittorio, I can think up better things for you to do than drunks around.

  Let's walk down to the office and get this tened out." Flynn," Jake called. "What shooting?" lieutenant came over to him, the chief behind him.

  "There assassination tonight over at the Vittorio, CAG. Two guys with submachine guns.

  "Americans?" "Not navy, sir. A couple civilians. I hear one of them looks like he could be an Arab.

  Maybe terrorists." "When?" "About eight." The lieutenant glanced at his watch. "Three hours or so ago, sir." Jake nodded, and the officer and chief walked away, down the pier toward the terminal building. The Shore Patrol office was at the far end, on the second deck. Jake opened the note from Toad.

  "Sir," it read. "The duty officer says you are looking for me. I am going back to the ship. I tried to call you at the hotel but got no answer.

  I need to talk to you URGENTLY on a very IMPORTANT matter.
/>
  V/R, Tarkington. 20:50." The "V/R" meant "very respectfully" and 20:50 was the time Toad wrote the note. Jake folded the paper and put it into his pocket.

  He leaned against a pole. Seven drunks in litters was unusual. But it's Saturday night, and they've been at sea for four months. Captain James was going to be busy with this lot next week.

  And some of them are probably air wing men, so he'll send them to me. Jake sighed.

  About fifty sailors in civilian clothes were standing, squatting, and sitting under the awning, watching the rain come down. Most had been drinking and they were in a cheerful mood. The banter was loud and light. The mike boat came sliding toward the quay, its diesel engine falling silent as it coasted the last few yards to the Yes sircarlyallyes sir float.