Those two guys you call the Odd Couple told me you were on your way when they got here earlier, Penny said. Why didn't you write me and tell me you were in Afghanistan?
I didn't find out about this operation until four days ago, Chad said. I've been out on a ship.
Chad, Penny said impatiently. We don't have all day.
He stood there awkwardly, not really happy with a girl who was now an intrusion in his life. But he was a young male with a young willing female. And he was a SEAL.
Duty of a sort had called.
DR. Pierre Bouchier acted as the host as Lieutenant Bill Brannigan, Lieutenant Junior Grade Jim Cruiser, and Senior Chief Petty Officer Buford Dawkins sat around the table in his large tent. Cold bottles of beer had been served, and the doctor also offered snacks of peanuts and pretzels.
We appreciate your hospitality, Doctor, Brannigan said.
I wish we could reciprocate, but all we have are MRE field rations.
Bien! Our food here is plain but much better than that, Bouchier said. However, I have you here for another reason. Yesterday, three armored cars visited us. The men in them wore British-style uniforms with Arab keffiyehs.
SCPO Dawkins took a swallow of beer. What the hell are keffiyehs? he asked, reaching for a handful of peanuts.
Do you remember pictures of Yasser Arafat? Cruiser asked. What he had on his head was a keffiyeh.
The device around it that holds it in place is called an akal, Bouchier said. At any rate, the leader identified himself by an Arabic first name and a last that I think was English or possibly German. And he claimed the rank of capitaine. He had a marked European appearance and spoke in an English accent. The fellow told me he was a member of an army called Jihad something-or-other.
SCPO Dawkins showed a crooked grin. Jesus! A fucking Lawrence of Arabia, huh?
I wouldn't say that, Brannigan remarked. This is a terrorist for sure. He shifted his gaze back to Bouchier. Did he give you any reason for his visit?
Tres explicitement! Bouchier exclaimed. He ordered us out of this area, giving us three days to leave. That time is up day after tomorrow at noon. He sent some men into the Pashtun village and warned them not to have any contact with us. They are obeying him explicitly.
I take it you've contacted your superiors, Brannigan said. What were their instructions?
I have received none as of yet, but I am certain I will be ordered to go to Kandahar or perhaps Kabul within twenty-four hours, Bouchier surmised.
I have a better idea, Brannigan said. I suggest that you and all your people load aboard some of your vehicles. I'll dispatch one of my DPVs to lead you to Shelor Field, and you can bunk in our hangar. My guy can turn around and come back here, and we'll be ready and waiting for this mysterious Brit with an Arab name.
But what is going to happen to the tents and all our equipment?
Leave everything here except the trucks you'll need to haul your people and necessary personal affects, Brannigan said.
But les terroristes will destroy everything they cannot steal, Bouchier protested. And if they don't, then those wretched Pashtuns will.
Not necessarily, Brannigan said. My detachment will be here to look after your things. And also to meet Captain Jihad and his men at noon day after tommorow.
I will have to clear it with my superiors, Bouchier said.
Right now this is the official operational area of a mission the United States Navy is calling Rolling Thunder, Brannigan said. I'm ordering you to evacuate to Shelor Field. My authority is that I am the commanding officer here. Besides, the UN is not known for any real sense of security.
Bouchier shrugged. In that case, I will follow your orders, Monsieur le Lieutenant.
CHAD Murchison and Penny Brubaker enjoyed a quick coupling, removing just enough clothing to perform the act. When the two young people rearranged themselves and stepped out of the tent, they immediately noticed near-frantic activity going on in the camp. Her three roomies were hurrying in their direction. Ach! Erika Maanchen said. We were afraid we would have to break in on you.
What's going on? Penny asked, alarmed.
We are leaving here right away, Josefina Vargas said. We are to pack one bag and be ready to go when they call us to get on trucks. The Americans are going to take us to their airfield to stay. Then they are coming back here. I think there will be a big battle with the bad soldiers in the armored cars.
Penny turned to speak to Chad, but he was already running over to join the detachment. At that instant, the young woman realized there was only one way she could have him for her own.
She had to get him out of the SEALs.
Chapter 6
WASHINGTON, D.C.
STATE DEPARTMENT
9 APRIL
0830 HOURS
CARL Joplin, PhD, impatiently checked his watch, noting he had a half hour minimum to wait. The window to appear for the appointment that morning was 0900 to 0910 hours. Although much of his work was done in the rambling, ambiguous world of diplomatic dealings, he still liked at least a bit of punctuality and predictability. Having a window of even just ten minutes irritated him. Joplin preferred a set time for every bit of business. Now the diplomat sat in the leather office chair behind his desk, tapping his foot impatiently as he waited.
This brilliant African-American Undersecretary's specialty in the State Department was to participate in informal negotiations and agreements between the United States and foreign nations. These unique sessions were clandestine, sensitive, and extremely consequential. They mostly dealt with issues that both sides wished to keep secret from their populations. For example, America might wish to inquire into information another country had gleaned from a person of interest through torture. Or perhaps a foreign head of government who had been taking a very loud and public stand against a particular American policy might want to cut a deal with the U.S. regarding another issue. In order to gain on the one, he would have to make concessions on the other. Therefore, he was willing to give in on certain points that would enrage his citizenry if they found out. An example would be guaranteeing no demand on trade imbalances or tariffs in exchange for the release of frozen assets in U.S. banks. Such goings-on required great diplomatic skill. And Dr. Joplin was the best at this game of two-faced diplomacy. All of his polite encounters ended to the USA's advantage, yet also pleased his foreign counterparts on the other side of the table.
One of his most recent assignments had to do with arranging secret military aid to three South American countries because they did not trust their own armed forces to handle a politically hypersensitive mission. The takeover of their entire continent by fascists was the very undesirable alternative. Joplin thought that would be the superlative assignment of his career, but a new state of affairs promised to top this earlier case. While giving only a brief hint of the situation, Joplin's boss, Secretary of State Benjamin Bellingham who didn't know a hell of a lot himself warned Joplin that he was about to be tossed into the deep end of a diplomatic pool filled with boiling controversy and peril.
.
0901 HOURS
JOPLIN stepped from his office, carrying his briefcase, and went down to the end of a hall where a Capitol Police guard stood by the single elevator situated there. The young officer was giving the diplomat's ID badge a studious gaze when another man approached. Joplin turned to see Colonel John Turn-bull, U.S. Army, the chief of the Special Operations Liaison Staff. The colonel, also toting the usual briefcase that seemed a fashion accessory in Washington, produced his own ID. As the policeman perused the card, the colonel nodded to Joplin. I wouldn't be surprised if we were going to the same place.
Nor would I, Joplin said. How're you doing, John?
Frankly, I'm much too busy to be called away from my office for unstated reasons, Carl.
The policeman approved the IDs, then turned and slid a scanner card into a slot in the wall next to the elevator. The doors buzzed open and the diplomat and officer stepped inside. Turnbull pressed a button that would take them down to the third basement.
