Who knew that her father had parlayed his success and social prominence at owning eleven car dealerships into a personal friendship with the senior senator from Pennsylvania? When his daughter told him she wanted to get into politics from the ground up, she was given an interview and an appointment as a permanent staffer for the Sissy, all at age twenty-seven. The Sissy commanded oversight of all intelligence and special-ops training and operations, from the CIA, the Department of Defense, and agencies in between. Not only were they charged with being good stewards of the American taxpayer’s hard-earned dollars, but they were also concerned with ensuring that all operations were conducted with the proper scrutiny. That’s where she came in. Her job had been to become the expert on all things special operations. If a vote was coming up on a new program or a budget cut, it was her job to advise the members of the Sissy regarding the efficacy, loss, and possible repercussions, if any, that might affect current and future special operations around the globe. She had a staff of six, consisting equally of Ivy League graduates and former special operators. Although she had been inexperienced when she took the job, hard work, an ability to remember facts and figures, her determination to get things done right the first time, and her constant respect for those she served had made her a known entity in the community, as well as someone to whom senior flag officers showed respect.
Then, of course, there was her role as the administrator. Very few knew of this position outside the Sissy and the cabinet. She’d held that position for two years now. She’d had to make this walk three times, and on each occasion it was because a member of her team had been killed.
When they neared the instructors, she allowed the officers to step forward and deliver the letter from Admiral Franklin, commander of Naval Special Warfare Command. She watched as the instructors turned and saluted the officers. She noticed their postures and how they changed when they exchanged greetings, when they learned that they were going to lose one of their candidates, and finally when they learned it was because of some uppity broad in a business suit.
It was at the point when they turned rigid with anger that she stepped forward and introduced herself.
“Master Chief Kenny, Senior Chief Howard, I’m Alexis Billings. The Sissy wants to thank you for your cooperation.”
“Cooperation?” sputtered Howard. “The Sissy?”
“Master Chief Kenny, Captain Pastora of DEVGRU speaks highly of you. Likewise, Captain Vitale speaks highly of you as well, Senior Chief.” She held out her hand. “It’s a true privilege to meet both of you.”
She counted on the professionalism of the instructors. It always worked. They each in turn accepted her handshake. They might not like what she was about to do, but they were not going to disobey the orders of the admiral. She also didn’t have to shove it down their throats. At the very least, she could let them know that although she was a woman who was stepping into a man’s world, she was doing it with the utmost respect for their mission, tradition, and way of life.
“I apologize for being the bearer of this request,” she said, softening the verbiage in the letter, which was far from a request.
“We get it,” Instructor Kenny muttered. “Enough with the reach-around.”
She nodded and clasped her hands in front of her. “Then let’s get to it, shall we?”
“One question, ma’am,” Instructor Howard said. “Why Jack Walker? No offense to the boy, but he’s not our best.”
“He’s also not our worst,” Instructor Kenny interjected.
“No, he’s not our worst,” Instructor Howard agreed. “But if the Sissy wants a SEAL for a special mission, why not just go to the teams? We have plenty of qualified SEALs out there.”
“We don’t want to disturb the organization of the teams,” she said, offering him a firm smile.
“Then why not one of the other candidates? What about Marshall? Or Rosen?”
She leaned forward slightly and gazed at the memo. “I believe you’ll see that Admiral Franklin authorized the release of Petty Officer First Class Walker. I don’t believe there are any other names on that list, but I will take your recommendations under advisement.”
Instructor Kenny looked pointedly at Lieutenant Commander Scott. “Sir? Anything to say about this?”
The Phase Three instructor couldn’t know, but she’d already had the same conversation with the lieutenant commander and the major. Neither had been happy with her responses.
Screening and Selection for SEALs was filled with both mental and physical rigor. The psychological interviews and screening process lasted several days, so it hadn’t been hard to sprinkle in a few questions here and there to ascertain those who could best fit the needs of the Sissy. Of the candidates currently in phases, Jack Walker was the only one whose answers and background made him a fit. But Kenny and Howard didn’t need to know that. All they needed to know was that a military officer senior to them had made the order to release this particular candidate.
Major Benitez’s frown said it all. She had to give Lieutenant Commander Scott credit, however. He definitely had a sense of humor and treated the entire event as some Douglas Adams training program. He kept looking at her as if to check and see when she was going to give them the punch line.
But there was no punch line to give.
SEAL Team 666 needed a replacement sniper and Jack Walker was that person.
“Aw hell,” Instructor Kenny said. “Walker! Get your ass over here!”
4
CORONADO ISLAND. STILL MORNING.
Petty Officer First Class Jack Walker felt like the crap had just been kicked out of him … again. As his instructors explained that he had to leave training, all he could think about was the wasted time. He glanced pleadingly back and forth between his instructors and the woman.
“But I have four weeks left. Can’t you all tell her to leave me alone?”
“It’s not just about her, son. The admiral has made his decision.”
The blue sky seemed to sway above him as the sand danced across his vision. Strong hands caught his shoulders.
“Steady there.” Howard held him tightly.
Walker turned toward where the woman stood five yards away. “What does this all mean? I’ve made all the events. Are you kicking me out? Because I’m not going to ring the bell.”
“I’m not going to kick you out,” Howard said.
“He doesn’t have to,” the woman said, approaching. “You’ve graduated early. Come with me, Petty Officer Walker. We have a lot to talk about.”
Howard whispered in his ear. “Don’t know what’s going on, Jack, but do as she says. You want to come back here and finish, we’ll roll you in the last four weeks, no problem.”
“Really, Senior Chief?”
“Maybe give you some time to take care of those shins.”
Walker stared at the aging instructor and let out a laugh. Well, of course he’d known about the injury. Trying to keep anything from the cadre seemed impossible.
Howard let go of him. “He’s all yours, Miss Billings.”
The woman, who turned out to be as tall as Walker, spun and headed back down the beach.
Walker took one last look back at his mates in Class 290, gave them a wave, then hurried after her.
After about a hundred meters, they stopped. She pulled a cell phone from her pocket and spoke into it for a few seconds before jamming it back into her jacket. The onshore wind had teased a few hairs free from the bun at the back of her head. She stared into the surf as if waiting for something.
“What is this all about?” he asked finally.
“We need you to be a part of a special team, Walker.”
“I was going to be part of a special team. As far as I know, the most special team in the free world. The U.S. Navy SEALs.”
“There’s a team more special than that.”
He’d believe that when he saw it. Ever since he’d grown up in Subic Bay as a Navy brat, he’d watched the SEALs come and go from mission to mission, untouched by the rigmarole of the rest of the Navy.
