Fallen Pride (Jesse McDermitt Series)

by Wayne Stinnett

  “The more the merrier. But, he’s coming with us in the morning. I pulled a few strings. Come on in for a minute, before we go down.”

  Deuce and Rusty were sitting in the two chairs at the table, so Williams and I sat on the sofa. “The strings I pulled are with an old buddy that served with Jared in Iraq. He gave me the skinny on what happened over there. He’s meeting us for lunch tomorrow and he’ll give you the details if you want. Long story short, Jared killed a non-combatant by accident, was accused of doing it on purpose by a VIP and nearly killed the man with his bare hands. The reason he can’t get help from the VA is because he was dishonorably discharged.”

  “Dishonorably discharged? But, the Corps was his life. He wanted to make a career of it.”

  “Tank’ll have more information tomorrow,” I said. “Jared’s spotter was killed in action a few months later.”

  “What’s that mean, a ‘non-combatant’?”

  “His target was supposed to be a high value terrorist. I don’t know what he might have told you, but your son had 12 previous confirmed kills. Apparently, the target’s eight year-old daughter stepped into his line of fire at the last second.”

  Williams head dropped into his hands and his whole body shook. When he looked up, his eyes were red, “Jared killed a little girl?”

  “The way Tank talked about it, I’m certain it was accidental,” I said. “Things like that happen in combat.” He was taking it pretty hard, harder than I would have figured. But, he was a civilian.

  Williams looked at me, then to Deuce and Rusty. Finally, he looked back at me and in a halting voice he said, “I had three kids, Jesse. Jared’s the oldest and Luke is three years younger. When Jared was five, we had a daughter. She was killed when she was eight years old. A drunk driver hit us and we went over a ravine. Jared was only thirteen. My wife and I were both out cold. Jared and Luke managed to get us out of the car. Mary drowned. Jared knew CPR and tried to revive her, but it was too late. He’s always blamed himself for her death.”

  “Damn,” Rusty said. “I don’t know what to say.”

  “It sure explains why he’s been having trouble,” Deuce added. “But, with that DD, the VA won’t touch him. The man needs help, though. Maybe we can get him in to see the right kind of shrink.”

  “He can’t afford it,” Williams said. “I’d help, but I know he’s too proud to accept it.”

  Rusty walked across the room and sat down on the sofa next to Williams. “Deuce said ‘we’ Dave. Not you. We’ll get him some help and he’ll accept it. We take care of our own.”

  Williams excused himself and went to the head. When he came out, his head was up and his eyes were clear. “Thanks, guys. Let’s go eat some beef. I’m anxious for y’all to meet Luke.”

  We walked out of the hotel lobby and across the parking lot to the restaurant. Williams spotted his son waiting by the door and trotted ahead, embracing the young man. When he released him and turned back to us, he was smiling broadly.

  “Guys, this is my son, Luke. Luke, these are the guys I told you about, Jesse, Deuce and Rusty.”

  I stepped forward and took the hand he offered, “Pleased to meet you, Corporal.”

  He shook hands with Rusty and Deuce then turned back to his dad and said, “I wanted to surprise you, but I guess you already found out.”

  Williams looked puzzled. “Go ahead and surprise him, Luke. I’m the only one that knows.”

  Now the younger Marine looked puzzled, but turned to his dad and said, “I got promoted to Corporal just yesterday.”

  Rusty grinned and said, “Guess you know what that means, young Corporal.” Then to me he said, “You ready, Gunny?”

  “Absolutely, Sergeant,” I said as I took the younger Williams by the arm and spun him between the two of us.

  Luke suddenly realized what was happening. I’m sure his arms were already aching from the previous day. It’s Marine Corps tradition for senior Marines to ‘pin’ the stripes on junior Marines when they’re promoted. Rusty and I held Luke by both elbows with our left hands. I held my right hand up behind his back and showed Rusty two fingers. We each drew our fists back and brought them forward suddenly, stopping just short of the Marine’s shoulders. Then we drew them back again and ‘pinned’ his stripes with a solid punch to each shoulder.

  Luke winced from the pain, but grinned and turned to each of us and exclaimed, “Oohrah!”

  “Semper Fi, Corporal!” Rusty and I shouted together.

  “Did I just witness a couple of civilian’s assault you, Marine?” came a voice behind us.

  Luke instantly went ramrod straight, as Tom walked up between two parked cars, dressed in Alpha’s. His eyes went wide, seeing the silver eagles on his lapels and shoulders, denoting a Marine Colonel was talking to him. “Good evening, sir,” he said. “No sir, these men are friends. I was promoted yesterday, sir.”

  “At ease, Corporal Williams,” Tom said. Then he turned to me and said, “Sorry I’m late Jesse. Something came up and I didn’t even have time to change.”

  “We just got here ourselves, Tom,” I said. “Luke, this is Colonel Tom Broderick. Tom, meet the newest Corporal in your Battalion, Luke Williams.”

  Tom smiled and extended his hand, “Congratulations, Marine.” Then he leaned in closer and said, “I’m the SOB that approved your promotion.”

  “You’ve already met Rusty, Deuce, and Dave, this afternoon. Dave is Luke’s dad.”

  Tom shook Williams’s hand again and said, “You raised a fine young Marine here, Dave.”

  “Where’s Tex?” I asked.

  “He’ll be here shortly. Same thing that held me up is holding him up. But, shit rolls downhill.”

  We walked inside and the hostess escorted us to a corner table in the back large enough for fifteen people, but with only seven chairs, five against the wall and one at each end. Tom and I took the end seats and the others sat down against the wall, leaving the seat next to me empty. Not the best seating arrangement for comfort, but it afforded a clear view of the rest of the room and both exits. No doubt arranged by Tom.

  Luke looked uncomfortable sitting next to a full bird Colonel. Tom leaned over and said, “We’re both off duty, son. Call me Tom. Hell, that arrogant bastard at the other end of the table used to call me by my first name when he was a Sergeant. Did it in front of his squad once, if I recall.”

  Just then, Mike Lattimore walked in, also dressed in Alpha’s. Most of the patrons of the restaurant were young Marines and their families. Seeing a Sergeant Major walk through the door, everyone between the door and our table parted. Tex was a Sergeant when I first met him as a young PFC. Tall and broad shouldered, he was now over thirty years in the Corps and had the seven service stripes on his lower sleeves to prove it.

  I stood up and met him with a firm handshake. Nearing fifty years old, he still looked much younger. “Damn Jesse, you need a frigging haircut.”

  “Good to see ya again too, Tex.”

  He nodded at the others and said, “Thanks for inviting me, Tom.” Then he took the chair I’d been sitting in and looked up at me. “Well, sit your ass down, boy.”

  The others laughed as I grinned and said, “You’re still an asshole.” Then I took the seat to his left. I introduced him to the others. He looked at Deuce and said, “I bet you don’t remember me. Me and your pap was real tight back in the day. Real sorry to hear about what happened.”

  Two waitresses arrived. One carrying a tray with four pitchers of beer, the other with a tray of mugs, shot glasses and a bottle of Pusser’s Navy Rum. “How old are you, Luke?” Tom asked.

  “Just turned 22, sir,” he replied.

  “Good enough, but cut the sir shit, okay.” Then to Tex he said, “Sergeant Major, peel your blouse.” Both men stood up and removed their blouses, leaving only the long sleeved dress shirt and tie on. While the shirts also had the rank insignia on collars and sleeves, it was slightly less imposing to the young Marine and he seemed to relax a little.
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  The waitress, having overheard Tom’s question and knowing a Junior Enlisted Marine wouldn’t dare lie to a Senior Officer, she didn’t embarrass Luke by asking for his ID and poured two fingers of rum in each of the glasses, as the other waitress filled the mugs. Tom looked at the first waitress, a young brunette, and said, “Your biggest rib eyes all around, baked potatoes and whatever green stuff you have that’s fresh.”

  When she walked away, Tex stood up, lifted his shot glass and said in a booming voice, “Gentlemen.”

  The rest of us stood and offered our glasses. Marines sitting nearby also stood, facing us at the position of attention, as Tex continued, “Lift yer grog, mates. To the late Russell Livingston, a warrior’s warrior and my friend. And to all the others we’ve lost over the years.” Then nodding to Luke and Dave, he added, “And to those who keep coming to fill their ranks and the mothers and fathers who raised real men. Semper Fidelis!”

  A chorus of raucous “Oohrah!” and “Semper Fi!” filled the restaurant, as we clinked our glasses and tossed down the 15 year old rum. I suddenly felt more at home than I had in years and melancholy that I’d left it behind.

  For the next hour we ate, caught up on what we were doing, reminisced about old times, remembered other Marines and where they were currently serving, or where they retired to, and told many great ‘sea stories’.

  Tex asked Luke, “What’s you MOS?”

  “I’m 0311, with Bravo, 1/6.”

  “Good outfit. Let me give you some advice. Don’t let them move you and try to avoid getting promoted too high. Right now, you’re surrounded with buddies that will cover your ass. Any Marine above Gunny is starting to play too much politics. Present company excluded. You planning on a career?”

  “Shipping over in two months, Sergeant Major, er, Tex.”

  Tom clapped him on the shoulder and said, “That’s what I like to hear. Good leaders are hard to find and even harder to keep. Like Jesse and Tex over there. You do like they did and your men will follow you right into hell, carrying jerry cans full of avgas.

  Chapter 5: To All Who Shall See These Presents, Greetings

  I woke with a rum and beer induced headache at 0600. We’d eaten, drank, and shared what was going on in our lives until nearly midnight. Not a real good idea, when we were planning to fly back in the afternoon. At least Williams had the presence of mind to limit his intake to just a single shot and two beers. I showered and got dressed in my best jeans, a light blue guayabera shirt, and topsiders. I was just booting up my laptop, when there was a knock on the door.

  “Figured you’d be up early,” Deuce said when I opened the door. “You get the email?”

  “Just opened it up. What email?”

  “I’ll save you having to stress those three brain cells. I forwarded it to you. It’s from the new Assistant Deputy Director. Wants me to arrange a fishing charter with you, to take out some VIP’s. I told you about him, right?”

  “Army Colonel, yeah. So who’s the VIP’s he wants me to get sea sick?”

  “He didn’t say. Just said to set it up with you as soon as possible. This week. Two VIP’s and six security, besides myself. He said we’d need two boats minimum.”

  “Six security for just two guys? He wants me to take the Vice President fishing or something?”

  Deuce put on his serious face for a moment. “Might be, but I don’t think the old guy’s heart could handle it. He wants us both to video call him at 0700.”

  I checked my Citizen Eco dive watch and said “Better not keep him waiting.”

  We sat down on the sofa and I spun the laptop in front of Deuce. He clicked the ‘Soft Jazz’ icon that his tech genius, Chyrel Koshinski set up for the secure video link. His face appeared in a small screen at the top right of the screen and seconds later her face appeared on full screen.

  “Hi boss,” she said and Deuce turned the laptop slightly toward me. “Hiya Jesse, long time no see.”

  “Good to see you again, Chyrel,” I said.

  “I guess since you’re in your office, you got the email also?” Deuce asked.

  “I have the link to Quantico already set up. The ADD’s secretary is standing by. She said he’s extremely punctual. I’ll patch the link in.”

  “Airborne Colonel,” I muttered. “Of course he is.”

  A little telephone receiver started blinking in the top right corner. It was the old style corded telephone handset, like we used in the ‘70’s. Kind of ridiculous for a modern, encrypted, satellite video call. The blinking receiver switched to a small screen, where a young woman was looking into the camera.

  Chyrel’s image and the young woman’s switched places and Chyrel said, “Hi again, Teresa. I have Mister Livingston and Captain McDermitt on the line, whenever the Director is ready.”

  The young woman, Teresa, looked at her watch and said, “Right on time. I’ll patch you through.” A moment later, her image was replaced by a man in his early fifties, with a tanned, fit looking face. His hair was in a crew cut, gray at the temples.

  “Good morning, Commander,” he said. “That must be Captain McDermitt with you?”

  “Yes sir,” Deuce said as he pushed the laptop a few inches away, so that we were both in the smaller picture.

  “Good to meet you face to face, sort of, Captain.”

  “Just Jesse’s fine, when I’m not on the boat.”

  “Fine then. Jesse, my name’s Travis Stockwell. I assume Deuce has told you about me and my request?”

  “Only that you want to arrange a fishing charter, Travis.” Hell, if he didn’t want me to call him by his first name, he shouldn’t have given it. At least he wasn’t on my boat, uninvited, like his predecessor had been.

  “This will be a charter for two very important people. I’ve read your jacket and feel extremely comfortable with arranging this meeting. Can you be available, with two boats, for a day of fishing Sunday?”

  “Today’s Friday,” I said. “Kind of short notice, but as it happens I have a pretty open schedule this weekend.”

  “Good. Are you familiar with the marina on the west side of NAS Boca Chica?”

  “I know where it’s at, yes.”

  “Good, I’m flying in Saturday evening and will meet you at the docks at 0530. Air Force One will land at 0600. The President and Secretary Chertoff will arrive at the marina at 0615 and the three of us, along with two Secret Service agents will go with you on the boat, total party of five. The second boat is needed to carry the rest of the Secret Service Detail, another four agents. Do you have someone to pilot the second boat? Someone with a security clearance?”

  “The President?” I said. “Of the United States?”

  “I thought you told me he was bright for a Jarhead, Deuce,” Stockwell said. Then he grinned and said, “Yeah, the President of the United States, Jesse.”

  “We have just the person to pilot the second boat,” Deuce said, unflustered. “One of my team is a local. Grew up in the Keys and just finished Maritime Enforcement training for the Coast Guard. Knows boats and the local waters better than anyone I know.”

  “Perfect,” Stockwell said. “Will there be any problem having two boats there?”

  I finally got over the shock and said, “No, no problem. I have two boats that will be perfect.”

  “What about crew? Any crewmembers outside the two of you will need secret clearance and be vetted by the Secret Service.”

  “Coast Guard Petty Officer Third Class Juliet Thurman will pilot the second boat and I’ll be her crew,” Deuce said. “She has a secret clearance.”

  “I’ll pilot the boat with the VIP’s on board,” I said. “My First Mate is Navy Petty Officer Second Class Robert Talbot, a part of Deuce’s team and my Second Mate will be Navy Lieutenant Commander Jaqueline Burdick, MD.”

  “A doctor is your Second Mate?” he asked. Then without waiting for an answer he said, “I’ll submit all your names to Secret Service for vetting. You will all need to be in uniform. Will that
be a problem?”

  “No sir,” replied Deuce before I could object. I don’t like leather soled shoes on my deck.

  “I don’t need to remind either of you that this is completely classified. The Secretary wants to talk to the three of us, face to face and the President wants to meet you both personally.”

  I was about to ask why, when Stockwell said, “The President expects to spend the morning fishing and has already been assured of a good catch. So, get your reels oiled up. We’re goin’ fishin’.”

  The screen went blank. Deuce and I looked at each other. “The President?” we both said in unison.

  “In uniform?” I said. “I don’t even know if I still have a uniform.”

  “You know what this means, don’t you?”

  “Yeah,” I replied. “I’ll have to salute your ass.” A knock on the door kept us from talking about it anymore.

  I opened the door and both Rusty and Williams came in. “We better get a move on,” Rusty said. “You two won’t have a problem getting on base, but me and Dave will need to stop at the PMO for a visitor pass.”

  “They’re issued at the gate now,” I said. “I already called ahead and the guards at the gate will have them waiting. But yeah, we better get going.”

  “What were you doing on the computer?” Rusty asked.

  “Playing solitaire,” Deuce said.

  “Yeah, whatever.”

  “Rusty, are my old uniforms still hanging in your guest closet?”

  “Yeah,” he said with a puzzled look. “Yours and mine both. But, I don’t think mine fits anymore. Why?”

  “Jackie and I have something to go to and I’ll need my Charlie uniform.”

  We left the suite and got in the big Expedition and pulled out onto Western Boulevard. “Just stay on Western. It’s about three miles to Highway 24 and turn left.”

  “Where’s Luke going to meet us, Dave?” Rusty asked.

  “He’s got his own car. Said he’d meet us at SNTC on Snead’s Ferry Road, wherever that is.”

  “SMTC,” I corrected him. “Stands for Special Missions Training Center. It’s on the east side of the base, at Courthouse Bay.”