as BUD/S training class 237, he was the team’s explosives expert. That he talked funny was just a bonus.
The team leader was Lieutenant Commander Sam Holmes. A graduate of the infamous BUD/S training class 201, he’d commanded SEALs in Teams 3 and 5 with deployments in Liberia, Somalia, Afghanistan, and Iraq. Although he’d had some dicey missions he didn’t talk about, he was one of the best leaders Laws had ever had. That he was a big man always made it fun to go out to bars with him. He was a constant target for the drunk and insane, as if he were some sacred mountain that they had to try and climb.
Then, of course, there was Laws himself. He benefited from an audiographic memory. If he heard it, he remembered it. Period. This facility enabled him to learn several languages including Chinese, Japanese, Arabic, and the Romance languages. While others called it skill, he felt more like it was a quirk of genetics because it was so easy. But he had to admit that it came in plenty handy when he was working straight human-intelligence operations and conducting interrogations in support of SEAL Team 1 and First Special Forces Group in the Golden Triangle.
Laws’s attention was drawn back to the new guy, and what he saw made him chuckle. The boy was told to change and changing he was. Even as the ramp closed in the back of the C-141 Starlifter and the engines spun up, the boy had undressed and stood naked in the middle of the plane.
Laws glanced at the administrator, who was pointedly ignoring the naked SEAL.
Rifling through the rucksack, the new guy found what he needed to suit up for the mission. He quickly put the uniform and vest on, and as the plane rose into the air, he laced up his boots.
Laws waited about half an hour to see if Holmes was going to introduce the new guy to the team. When it obviously wasn’t going to happen, Laws crossed to the other side of the plane and sat down on the bench beside the FNG.
“Tim Laws,” he said by way of introduction, holding out his hand. “Intelligence, deputy commander, and the team welcome wagon.”
The new guy shook his hand. “Walker, Jack. Sniper.”
“What class are you?”
Walker looked at him in such a way that Laws immediately knew the answer. “You didn’t finish, did you? What phase were you in?”
“Three. We were about to go on Live Fire.”
Laws leaned back and laughed. “Four weeks to go and you were yanked. That’s got to suck big time. You must be something special.”
Walker shrugged. “I don’t know anything about … whatever this is.”
“This, my new friend and teammate, is the finest and baddest supernatural unconventional-warfare special- mission unit in the United States government inventory.”
“We’re the only one, Laws,” Fratolilio commented.
“Supernatural?” Walker grinned, then let his grin fall when it wasn’t shared by the others.
“Absolutely. Why, I could tell you—”
“Wait until mission brief,” Holmes ordered. He was leaning back against the fuselage and hadn’t even opened his eyes.
“Then I’ll wait until mission brief. Let me introduce you to the other members of the team.”
As Laws went about introducing Walker, he noted that the boy had begun to feel more comfortable in his new skin, which was good. If they were about to go on a mission and would require his backup, they needed to make sure that his mind was in the right place.
Finally, half an hour later, Holmes opened his eyes, brought out a folder, and gave the mission brief.
6
30,000 FEET ABOVE CENTRAL CALIFORNIA.
According to the big blond guy who was apparently the leader, they were going to Chinatown, where an anomaly had been identified. An interagency intelligence unit composed of operatives from the Air Force Office of Special Investigations and the Defense Intelligence Agency had discovered what they felt was the nexus for organizing illegal tech transfer to China. Informants had infiltrated the area and come back with an entirely different story, one that included rumor of human sacrifice, mysticism, and some kind of cult.
“So we don’t really know what we’re dealing with here. It’s mainly an intelligence-gathering mission. We engage hot only when we are engaged or if there’s a justifiable threat.” He nodded to the administrator. “Miss Billings doesn’t want us making the national news. I don’t even want you making the local news. You aren’t supposed to be operating on U.S. soil, but you have to. It’s not like we have a local supernatural SWAT unit standing by to handle these things.”
“Maybe we should,” Laws said.
“What do y’all want to do, run a mobile training team and teach them the best and most efficient ways to kill a demon or dismember a ghoul?” Ruiz asked.
Laws grinned. “Sounds like fun.”
“Barring the Sissy authorizing that, we have to go in ourselves.” Holmes pulled out a map. “Based on current mission parameters, there’s no utility in deploying a sniper for overwatch, so Walker, you’ll stack with us inside.”
“Yes, sir.”
The rest of the mission briefing came and went. Everyone was given their mission particulars, including the dog. Walker had noticed the Belgian Malinois when he’d boarded the plane and thought of it as a mascot. But it seemed as if it was going to join them for CQB. This was something entirely new.
They were issued the primary and secondary frequencies for the MBITRs. They checked ammunition and tied, buttoned, snapped, and twisted anything that needed to be secured. When they were suited up in their helmets and gear, Laws came over.
“Excited for your first mission?”
“I’ve had other missions.”
“Not with SEALs, you haven’t.”
“No, but I spent the last five years with Kennedy Irregular Warfare Group,” Jack said. It was always the same. Everyone wanted to know where you worked and what you’d done. It was how you were measured and he’d done it many times. “I joined eight years ago. My first tour out of A School was as an intelligence specialist on the destroyer USS
Laws grinned. “But those weren’t SEAL missions. Let me ask you again—are you excited for your first mission?”
Walker grinned. “Yeah, a little.” His heart was hammering in his chest.
“Sure beats doing push-ups and flutter kicks back in Coronado, doesn’t it?”
“Four weeks,” Walker said, holding out four fingers. “I only had four weeks left.”
Laws remained silent for a few moments; then Walker asked a question that had been bothering him. “Why is the dog coming with us?”
“She’s part of the team.”
“But it’s a dog.”
Laws grinned as he reached over and scruffed Hoover’s neck. “So what about it?”
“Shouldn’t the dog be lying on some front porch, or maybe smelling pot at some border checkpoint?”
“Not too loud or Hoover will hear you.”
“The team I saw on the USS
“They
