bed. He felt her eyes travel over his uniform quickly, noting the lack of insignia.
“SEALs?” she finally whispered.
He nodded grudging approval of her quiet voice and quick grasp of the situation. Whatever else she was, this woman was no dummy. Time for you to go home, ma’am.”
Pamela sat up in bed, gathering the sheet around her defensively.
“What makes you think I want to go home?”
Sikes rocked back on his heels. “The admiral thought” “Tombstone, was it?” Her voice was sharp and slightly louder. “Coming to rescue the fair damsel again, is he? Well, you just head back and tell the admiral that I think I can take care of myself. I got in here on my own, I can get out. Now go away. You’re interrupting my beauty sleep.” She lay down again and turned her back to him, pulling the sheets up around her neck.
Sikes sighed. This mission was becoming more of a pain in the ass every second. “Ma’am, I don’t think I can let you do that,” he said gently. “There’s some things you need to know.”
“Are you going to make me leave by force?” she asked, still not turning to face him.
“There’s a strike inbound on the base. We don’t recommend you stick around for it.”
“I already survived one.”
“You won’t survive two.” Sikes made his voice deadly certain. “Not from our weapons they’re as accurate as you report them to be. If they hit what they’re supposed to, this area’s going to be lousy with nuclear debris.”
“We’re shooting a nuclear weapon?”
He saw her go stiff under the sheet. “Not us. Conventional munitions only. But what’s stored in those weapons is dirty weapons, ma’am, real dirty. Some nukes, maybe some biological. Certainly some chemical ones. And they’re all capable of reaching the United States. You want to come back when it’s all over, hell, I’ll help you talk them into it.
But for now, I think you’re going to want to be out of here when it goes down. At least long enough to find out what’s in those boxes.”
“You saw my report?”
The question surprised him, but not for long. He forced himself to sound calm. “It was used for an intelligence briefing, ma’am. I figure,” he said, an idea suddenly occurring to him, “that that’s what you intended. That wasn’t a mistake, was it? Getting all that in the background?”
Finally, she rolled over to look at him. The smile creeping across her face lit it up like a child’s at Christmas. “You noticed that, did you?” There was no mistaking the self satisfaction in her voice.
He nodded. “We all did. It takes a pro to keep their wits about ‘em during something like that. That information will help save lives, ma’am.” And so this is the way you skin this particular cat, he thought, wondering if he’d find his Psychology 101 classes more useful in this mission than any swimming skills.
“Dirty weapons?” she quizzed. “Could we” He shook his head again.
“No, ma’am, the only thing we can do now is leave. There are a lot of people putting a lot on the line to afford you this opportunity, so I suggest you take it. You’ve done your part for the war, now let us do ours.” He stood and held out a hand to her, suddenly uncertain as to exactly what she was wearing beneath the sheet, and wondering whether the SEAL team was really ready to transport a naked female out of the compound undetected.
She flipped her sheet back, and he was relieved to see her in a dark T-shirt and a set of sweats. A pair of blue and white fluorescent running shoes were peeking out from under the bed. She slipped them on quickly.
“Did you mean that? About getting me back in?” she asked as she tied her right shoe. She looked up at him, a winsome smile lighting her face. “I’d really like that if you did.”
“I’ll try, if the debris isn’t too deadly. Best we get back to the shop and let them make that determination before you go back in, though. You’ve reported from some dangerous places, but I don’t want one of them to be a plague quarantine hospital.”
She looked slightly paler, but still determined. “We’ll see,” she said enigmatically, standing next to him.
Pamela grabbed her equipment bag and followed them to the door. She paused at the threshold, glancing around suspiciously. Sikes motioned to her impatiently. “Come on we know what we’re doing.”
She stepped across the threshold and stopped again.
“What about the pilot?”
The air between the SEAL team members crackled with tension. Was it possible? Of course it was they should have suspected it, planned for it. “Pilot?” Sikes said, stepping close to her and whispering. The question wasn’t necessary he knew which one she meant.
Pamela pointed impatiently. “The Marine Corps pilot. I saw him yesterday I think they’re keeping him over there.”
Five hundred yards away, a small building blazed with lights. It was surrounded by another fence, and a mongrel looking dog roamed restlessly inside of it.
Good thing we’re downwind, Sikes thought. It’s sheer luck that he wasn’t alerted by our motion. If he’d caught our scent, he’d be barking his damned head off.
The SEALs held a hasty huddle. The SEAL team to the east thought they were heading to Major Thor’s rescue, but clearly the Cubans had screwed that plan up. And since his team was already here, they had very few options. Come back with both hostages or don’t come back at all.
While the admiral hadn’t said it, that had been the secret resolve of each member of the team.
“So we go get him,” Huerta said finally, settling the matter. “Dogs, lights no big deal.” He looked toward Sikes as though seeking permission a courtesy, both men knew, but one that was appreciated.
“You two head back toward the coast with Miss Drake. Sikes and I will go after the jarhead. That work?”
Sikes nodded. As much as he hated splitting up the team, it was the only course of action that made sense. They could not risk Miss Drake’s life no matter how much he despised what she’d done by taking her on the rescue mission.
“No way.” The objection came from the expected quarter.
Although her voice was still a low whisper, Pamela Drake was livid.
“There’s a good chance we won’t make it,” Sikes said calmly. He already knew it was futile to argue. He motioned to Garcia to key up his communications equipment.
“I think maybe I have more faith in you than you do.” The reporter regarded him solemnly, no trace of mockery or sarcasm on her face.
“Call the other team,” Sikes said finally. “Abort their mission.
We’ll grab the pilot and scoot.”
“When SEALs go out to get someone, that someone generally gets gotten.
So let’s gowe’re wasting time.”
She pointed at the dog. “That’s your first problem. Somehow, I don’t think I’m going to want to be up close and personal for your solution.”
“They should be back on the beach by now,” Batman said.
“This timetable is tight too tight, maybe.” He thought about the many SEAL operations he’d participated in, how the damnedest sure bets could go wrong at the worst possible time. The risk factor was enormously greater than that of a combat air patrol in an F-14.
“They designed the schedule. Admiral. I’m sure it’s something they can live with.” Lab Rat’s voice sounded a good deal more convinced then he himself felt. “Anyway, there’s nothing that we” “Commander?”
An enlisted technician looked up from his bank of electronic monitoring equipment. “I think you’d better see this.”
Lab Rat darted over to the console, checked the screen in front of the technician. “Oh, shit.”
Batman joined him behind the technician. He studied the array of figures and scrolling information, incomprehensible to someone not inculcated into the arcane traditions of Intelligence. “What is it?”
Lab Rat shook his head. “Missile launch indications.
They’re getting ready. We should see thermal blooms any second, once the preliminaries are out of the way.”
