Additionally, two of the media were still there lying on the floor. The reporter was cut and bleeding in several places. Blood ran from his ears. He was saying something loudly, repeating the same words over and over, but Jazz did not understand. The cameraman had a similar blank look and was shaking.
“Hey!”
Jazz looked at the agent who grabbed his arm.
“Snap out of it! You need to look for secondary devices. We have more agents and medical people on the way! Make sure there is not another bomb placed to take them out!”
Jazz tried to focus as he looked for another device. It was difficult to do when computers, coffee cups, pens, briefcases, were everywhere. In the immediate vicinity of the blast there were thousands of large pieces of material that were now unidentifiable.
The men continued to search as emergency personnel arrived. They looked under tables, behind chairs, in boxes and briefcases. Ashland pointed out that any computer could have a device inside. Jazz extracted a wrench from inside his bag. He walked through the conference center searching for a secondary device, smashing each monitor he passed to peer inside. Ashland did the same.
Ita and his canine also searched the room for explosives. The airman focused as much as possible on items whose innards the Techs could not easily search, such as the computer towers, locked briefcases, and sealed boxes of give-aways. Jazz was considering moving these items to one place out of the way of the emergency medical workers when an FBI agent approached him.
“Lieutenant, you and your men are done for now. Go back to your hotel and sit tight.”
“Uh, okay. The whole place is not necessarily secure. We don’t know about all these computers. We looked in the monitors that are smashed.”
“Understood. At this point I don’t think there is a secondary device. These guys hit their target. The Caribineri bomb squad will continue the search. TSD and FBI need you guys to go back to your hotel room. We are going to seal this place off. We will be by later to ask some questions.”
“Roger.”
Jazz sat in the same room where they had their initial meeting. The television was on to the BBC. They were covering the events at the symposium. As he watched it for the third time Jazz realized that he was still in shock.
The FBI agent from the Rome office identified himself as Pucharelli. Jazz wondered if he was assigned here because of his Italian heritage. Maybe he spoke the language.
Jazz noted that the agent looked exhausted. Hell, I probably look the same, the lieutenant thought.
There was a moment of déjà vu as the officer began his questioning.
“Okay, LT. Let’s start with your name unit, address, et cetera. Stuff for the record.”
“Sure. I’m Lieutenant James J. Jascinski, Untied States Navy. I am Officer in Charge of Explosive Ordnance Disposal Mobile Unit Six Detachment Four, stationed in Ingleside, Texas. Currently we are deployed aboard USS Inchon.”
“Where do you live?”
“Um, my home right now is 2524 Beechwood Street, Portland, Texas.”
Jazz answered all of Pucharelli’s questions, but he was not sure that the agent was really getting all of the info. Maybe he and Ashland were not that important to the investigation.
“LT, did you secure the conference room prior to the visit?”
“No. We discussed it with the TSD agent and agreed that it was too big, and had too many people. It was not possible to secure it with the manpower and the time constraints. The TSD guy said that SECSTATE was briefed.”
Jazz waited while Pucharelli wrote some notes.
When he finished he looked up again. “Are there any insights you can give me regarding the device?”
“Not really, nothing your post-blast guys won’t be able to figure out. We did not really see anything, no remnants.”
“Roger.”
“How is she?”
“You didn’t hear?”
“No, she’s alright isn’t she?” Jazz said remembering her moving on the floor.
“Nah, she didn’t make it, LT,” the agent said solemnly.
After the interview concluded, Pucharelli told Jazz that he could go, then wasted no time in getting out the door himself.
The phone in Jazz’s room was ringing as he walked in the door. It was Denke.
“LT?”
“Yes, Senior.”
“Pack up. We’re rolling in thirty minutes.”
“Why?”
“Sir, while you were being interviewed we were given permission to scram back to Sigonella. I suggest we take it while we can. We may be in a dangerous environment for Americans. Do you concur?”
“Sure.”
As Jazz packed a depression came over him. It was the same sense he had after West and Martin perished. He was responsible for SECSTATE. He was her bomb squad, assigned to keep her safe from explosive devices. He failed and now Fiona Koss was dead.
Melanie was enjoying naptime. She enjoyed more than an hour without interruption from baby Abigail or one of the boys. She decided to relax. There would be time in the evening for her to devote to the house.
The lemonade was heavenly. She flipped through a copy of Cosmo.
Damn, what I wouldn’t do for the life of some of these women.
She imagined putting on her make-up being the most taxing part of her day, or deciding what outfit to wear for the evening.
The phone interrupted her reading; it was Jeannie.
“Mel, have you seen the TV?”
“No. What is it?”
“I think the guys are on television.”
“What?”
“Fiona Koss and John De Luca were just killed in Italy.”
“Oh, no. Oh, my God, are they alright?”
“No, they’re dead.”
“No, I mean Jazz and T-Ball.”
“I don’t know. Oh my God, I hope they are all right. I’m sure they must be, right? I mean, they didn’t mention anyone else on the news.”
Frantically, Melanie ran to the bedroom with the portable phone still in her hand. She flipped on the TV and cycled through the channels. The breaking news was coming over many stations, but she flipped until she reached an all news channel.
Jazz, if you die, I’m gonna kill you.
“Mel? My other line is beeping. I’ll bet it’s Ted.”
“Call me back if you hear anything.”
“I will.”
As soon as she hung up, the phone rang again. It was Eleanor.
“Melanie, dear, have you seen the news?”
“Yes, someone called a moment before.”
“I’m sure Jazz is alright dear. I didn’t get any funny feelings... I seem to always be able to tell when he is in danger.”
“Me too,” said Melanie through tears. “I’m sure he is alright.”
Her call waiting started to beep. She was sure that it was Jeannie or Jazz.
“Mom, someone is calling on the other line it might be Jazz...”
“We love you dear.”
“Jazz?”
“Sorry, Mel, it’s Jeannie again. I just talked with Ted. He said that he has not talked to Jazz, but he knows that he is okay. Koss and De Luca were killed and two reporters were injured.”
Melanie sat on the bed and started crying. She tried to hold it in so that Jeannie could not hear her.
“Mel, did you hear me?”
“Uh huh.”
“Damnit, Mel, are you alright?”
“Uh, huh.”
“I’m coming over there. Don’t move.”
Tyler and Abby were awake now. Melanie put Tyler in front of a cartoon while she nursed. Ten minutes later Jeannie came in without knocking.
“Mel!” she called out.
“Back here. I’m nursing.”
“Are you okay?”
“I suppose so.”
Melanie held back tears as Jeannie came into the bedroom.
“Oh, I wanna hug you,” Jeannie said.
“I’m fine, really.”
“No, you’re not. I’ve called Judy. She is coming over. You need some sisterhood right now.”
TWENTY-SEVEN
Remorse
Mobile Unit Eight was still empty when the detachment returned. Jazz was quiet during the trip back. He let Denke give the men direction.
“Okay guys, stow gear. One day stand-down and then we’ll get ready for our next op... whatever that may be.”
Jazz moved to the OIC office and called home. As the phone rang he looked at his watch; it was still early afternoon in Portland.
“Hello?”
“Hey, Mel, it’s me.”
“Oh, thank God,” Melanie said as she began crying. “Damn it, Jazz! Why didn’t you call earlier?” she said through tears and anger. “All of the other wives got phone calls. I thought something happened to you and they weren’t telling me. I’ve been waiting for the base chaplain to drive up all day.”
“I’m sorry, hon.”
“Answer my question! Why! We have been over this before! Why didn’t you call!”
“I’m the OIC, Mel. The others were able to call when I was talking to the FBI. Afterward I had no time. I had to practically run from my hotel room to the plane.”
“So where are you now?”
“I’m back in Sigonella.”
“Oh, thank God.”
Jazz listened to his wife sob for a moment. He understood why she was upset, but his own frame of reference was different. This was now the second time in a few months that he was close to death. Slowly, Melanie regained some of her composure.
“James J. Jascinski, next time you call.”
“Mel, I couldn’t...”
“Call. I do not care if you miss your plane. I do not ever want to feel this way again. Do you understand me?”
“Yes.”
“I thought you were dead, Jazz.”
“I’m sorry, really. Next time I’ll call.”
“I’m serious, Jazz. I’m not going through this again.”
“I love you, hon.”
“I love you too, but I can’t talk right now. I’m just too upset. I just needed to hear your voice... I need to try to calm down. I’ll send you an email later, okay?”
“Um, okay.”
Jazz held the phone for a moment after his wife hung up. He realized that the life he has chosen was slowly killing their marriage. He wondered how long Melanie could take the stress of being a bomb-tech’s wife.
Within one hour of returning, Det Four was on the porch drinking and barbecuing again. Denke noticed that Johnny Ashland was very sullen and that Jazz had disappeared. He went in search of his young OIC.
The senior chief found the lieutenant lying on his cot in their makeshift bunkroom.
“Hey, LT. What’s up?”
“Senior.”
Denke walked over to his cot and sat down on it.
“Lieutenant, I’ve got something to say to you and I’m only going to say this once, so listen. I know how you feel about this whole thing. I know because I’ve been there, I’ve lost lives on my watch.”
Jazz swung his feet over and sat up on his cot. He looked Denke in the eye, ready to take in every word.
“You don’t need to know all the details. Basically I had a dive buddy die on me. We were diving Mark –16 and he suffered an electronics system failure. The rig stopped giving him O2. I didn’t notice he had a problem until it was too late. To make matters worse, I did the pre-dive maintenance on his rig.”
“Wow, Senior Chief, I’m sorry.”
“Yeah, well so was I. I was his dive buddy; I set up his rig. For a long time I figured no two ways about it, I’d killed him. But the JAGMAN investigation determined that it was not my fault and deep in my heart I knew that I hadn’t fucked up. My setup of the rig was sound and my emergency procedures to get him to the surface were correct.
“Still, I felt guilty. It ate at me for a long time, but eventually I got past it. In the meantime I developed a drinking problem and got a divorce.
“Lieutenant, this was not on you. And if it were, I would be the first to tell you. Despite the fact that you are an 1140, nobody has any doubt in your ability. SECSTATE knew the risks and she took them. You performed your duties as the Secret Service asked you to, and in the same manner that any other EOD Tech would have.”
“Sure, Senior Chief...”
“I’m not done... you still have a responsibility to this team. If you are going to continue to lead these men you need to put this shit behind you and move on. I’m not saying forget it, just learn from it and move on. I can see the funk you are in already. If you don’t come out of it right now, you will not be able to lead these men... if you cannot do it quickly then you need to turn in that crab and go home. Period. End of lecture.”
Denke stood up.
“Don’t disappoint us, LT. Don’t disappoint me.”
With that, Denke set a can of beer at Jazz’s feet and headed back to the porch. The OIC sat for a long time staring at it. He realized now why Denke was such a relentless taskmaster.
The ops boss required Jazz to check in with him each morning. Lou set up a guest account in MU EIGHT’s vault so that he could read message traffic. The COMSHIFT message that he sent before leaving Inchon ensured each of the communications centers throughout the world knew all messages for EODMU SIX DET FOUR went to Sigonella. He read in the daily traffic that the other detachments were participating in an exercise with the Spanish Navy. Jazz now wished he was with them. It was not enough that the fun of being off the ship, beers, steaks, and cappuccinos disappeared after the attack on SECSTATE. Now he knew his brethren were having more fun than the men from Ingleside. He tried to erase visions of his fellow EOD Techs diving in warm clear waters, laughing together in the boats at the end of a long day.
As he emerged from the unit’s compound he ran into the Command Master Diver.
“Hey, LT, your boys are over at the Bee Bar. They said for you to meet them over there.”
“Where?”
“The Bee Bar, the coffee shop over by the gym.”
“Oh, thanks, Master Diver.”
Jazz found Denke and Keating sitting at the Bee Bar having cappuccinos.
“Senior Chief, are we ready for training?”
“Yes, sir. I put Ashland and Sinclair in charge. They have already set up the minefield on the far side of the runway where there is a training area. We’re ready when you are, sir.”
“Let’s go then.”
Ashland began with a training lecture about how to operate in a minefield. He reviewed all the proper safety lectures and use of the Mark–29 Ordnance Locator. The –29 was an effective version of a civilian metal detector. It could be used to find ferrous material on land or in shallow water.
Sinclair then gave a lecture on the various mines that were common in the Med, especially in the Balkans. The Italians produced and exported a wide variety of anti-personnel and anti-tank mines. They incorporated non-ferrous materials like plastic to make them near impossible to detect. Sinclair also had mines from Russia and the former Yugoslavia in his repertoire.
After the lecture each man was given a problem. They exercised as individuals rather than as a full detachment. The Techs were each assigned an area to search with the others watching. Ashland and Sinclair cleverly designed learning points into each man’s “game.”
Jazz was determined to do well. He knew that Denke was right; he needed to regain confidence in himself and his teammates.
Jazz listened intently to the -29. Each time he got an audible return he set it behind him and squatted. Then, pulling out the Admiral’s knife, he would gently probe the earth, feeling for a solid object with the blade. When the tip hit something, he then sifted through the hot, loose soil with his hands. If his fingers found a mine, he would prosecute it, rendering it safe.
After countless attempts that uncovered rocks or old soda cans, Jazz sensed that he finally found an ordnance item. He stopped and sipped from his Camelbak
considering the situation.
Don’t rush, he told himself. Calm down. Remember this thing does not have a timer.
Gently slipping the knife in again, he felt and heard a soft, “click.”
Yep, definitely man-made.
Jazz dug with his fingertips lightly, rubbing sand away from the object. Finally the sand he moved away revealed a dark brown land mine. From the size he guessed it was an anti-tank mine. He had to balance safety with speed.
Move quickly, but don’t kill yourself.
His procedure had to be correct, but he also could not dawdle on the problem and take all day. His fingers dug down and found the bottom of the land mine. Seven minutes after finding it he fully uncovered an eighth pie-section of the mine.
Jazz paused and drank again water from his Camelbak as he looked at it a moment to determine what type it was. He was unsure of the exact nomenclature, but knew it was an Italian mine. Next, he would remove the fuze.
As he leaned over to remove more sand from the top of the mine there was a loud, “Pop!”
Smoke rose from under the mine.
“What the fuck?”
He looked up at the sound of laughter. Sinclair was forty feet in front of him behind a dune with a detonator in his hand.
“BOOM! You’re dead, LT!” the petty officer said gleefully.
It was then that Jazz saw it. Emerging from the ground ten feet in front of him was a small black cable. It ran toward the dune where Sinclair was hiding.
Ashland came up behind him.
“Command detonated, LT.”
Jazz registered somberness in Ashland’s voice.
Maybe he is still upset too.
“What?”
“See the wire?” Ash said. “A lot of ordnance in B-H is command detonated. They suck a team of engineers or EOD guys into a minefield and wait for them to focus on what they are doing. After you tunnel vision into your mine, boom... big pink mist. Always, always, always take the time to recon the whole area.”
“Fuck,” Jazz muttered to himself.
“No sweat, LT,” said Ash. “Next time you’ll get it. That’s why we’re here, that’s why we did this problem.”
Jazz shook his head and Ashland chuckled.
Proximity: A Novel of the Navy's Elite Bomb Squad Page 21
