SEAL Endeavor

SEAL ENDEAVOR

By

Sharon Hamilton

Copyright © 2012 by Sharon Hamilton

All rights reserved. Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of the copyright owner of this book.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously.

License Notes

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Chapter 1

Special Operator Calvin “Coop” Cooper and Special Operator Alphonso “Fredo” Manuel Esquidido Chavez had stopped for gas near Moss Landing, California. The smell of recently harvested broccoli drifted in the air. Fredo ran inside to pay the attendant for the fill up.

Cooper started pumping gas in the green king cab beater Fredo had bought from the San Diego Parks Department. The gas mileage was horrible, but the extra cab space was worth its weight in gold. Many times Team guys transported gear they weren’t supposed to have in public between their various vehicles and homes. Depending on the need.

Being part of SEAL Team 3 meant he had to be ready at all times, even though they had a couple months before their next workup. Word was, they were going to train somewhere they would freeze their asses off. So, this little sojourn to Monterey, on their way to Silicon Valley, was just what the doctor ordered.

“You wanna tell me what that shit smell is, Coop? Smells like your compost bucket in the Babemobile.”

The Babemobile Fredo referred to was the motor home Coop kept parked at the beach, just down the strand from base. He pocketed his housing allowance and lived on the cheap. It was also a very inexpensive way to pick up girls. He powered his way through San Diego on a red scooter the rest of the Team guys gave him one hell of a time about, especially because Coop was so ridiculously tall, six foot five. But Coop felt that at 80 miles per gallon, they could laugh and make fun of him all they wanted to.

“Brussels sprouts.”

“Holy Mother of God. Are we smelling farts or an explosion at the Brussels sprouts factory?“

Cooper had to laugh. He doubted Fredo had eaten anything green except chilies and cilantro, maybe an occasional veggie he neglected to remove from a burrito.

“Do they even have a Brussels sprouts factory here?” Fredo asked.

“No.” Cooper loved the differences between them. Here he grew up on a farm in Nebraska, knew how to grow anything that would, and Fredo looked at vegetables and healthy food as poison.

“Damn right. No wonder Mexico gave California up.”

“Scared off Clark Gable, too.” Cooper nodded at the five-foot-five Mexican SEAL.

“Excuse me?” Fredo scrunched his nose up, which made his brow look even more Neanderthal. Coop knew his heart was as big as the ocean but he was unlucky with the ladies. Although he joked about it all the time, Fredo would make a great father and Coop suspected he secretly wanted to settle down.

“Clark Gable. He married Alma Spreckles—I think that was her name—whose dad owned the sugar refinery nearby. Story goes he drove up here from Hollywood and said ‘No thanks.”

“I always liked Clark Gable,” Fredo said. “He seemed like a man who made a lot of sense, for a Gringo.”

The pump shut off and Cooper replaced the screw on gas cap. Fredo started up the truck, clouding the gas station with a generous helping of gray smoke.

“Think we’ll be in San Jose in about two hours,” Cooper said over the roar of the truck engine.

“You ever met this guy?”

“Nope. My friend from DOD said he was trustworthy.  They even bought equipment from him.”

“Really? Our government is now buying things outta people’s garages?”

“He’s supposed to be this super genius inventor. They ask him to come up with something, off the books of course, and he does.”

“That why you’re buying this thing for a grand?”

“Fredo, don’t mention the price—to anybody. I’m not going to pay a grand for it.”

Cooper punched his buddy in the arm. “I feel like I have to give you a lecture like my dad always gives my mom when they go to buy a new car, otherwise she’d tell them exactly what their budget is. She thinks she has to tell the truth, even to a used car salesman.

The green rows of cabbage, lettuce and strawberries fanned out in neat spines as they drove down the two-lane road.  Coop’s dad said there was some beautiful farmland here, and Cooper had to agree. Not like the wheat and vegetable farm his parents owned back in Nebraska, but it did make him pine for home, just a bit. Being stationed in San Diego had its perks, but even though he slept in his motor home with the ocean as his backyard, there still wasn’t enough space around him. Green space, that is.

“How long we gotta smell this crap?” Fredo said as he adjusted his rear view mirror.

“It could be worse. If we went the other way, we’d be smelling garlic.”

“And I’d say that would be a huge improvement.  God never intended man to eat green things.”

They followed the instructions Cooper had written down, snaking through modest neighborhoods in San Jose. At last they found the one story light blue and crème house with a bicycle upended on the front lawn, and stopped.

The two SEALs arrived at the front door and heard a TV blaring inside, and a woman shouting commands to a couple of kids who were running on what sounded like bare hardwood floors. When Coop rang the doorbell, the footsteps came straight their way and stopped at the front door, which opened. A little girl of about four greeted them. Her sweet round face with bright pink cheeks stared up at them.

“Hello, Gentlemen.” she said, with difficulty at the size of the word rolling around in her mouth. “May I help you?” The authority in her voice impressed even Cooper. He kneeled down and spoke to her eyeball to eyeball.

“I’m here to see your daddy, I think. That is, if his name is Irving.”

She giggled. “He doesn’t like to be called that. My mommy does that when she’s mad.” She scratched the back of her head with her right hand, her other hand scrunched up her Halloween costume princess gown. She was about to reveal another family secret but her father interrupted her.

“Okay okay,” a booming voice came from behind her, down the hallway. The man had loose curly dark hair that fell over his forehead. His eyes were protected by thick dark framed glasses, and, just like in a movie, the nose bridge was repaired with a piece of silver duct tape. “Missy, you and Peter go see your mommy in the kitchen. I’ve got some business to discuss with these gentlemen.”

The little one did as she was instructed. Irving stepped outside and closed the door behind him.  He let out a sigh. He pulled his fingers through his unruly hair, which returned right back to the same place it had been. Irv’s eyes were dark brown, appearing below bushy black eyebrows.

Coop noticed the sounds of a nearby freeway, which was better than the jarring racquet coming from the TV inside.

“Irv Palmer.” He extended his hand to Cooper.  “You must be the guys from San Diego?” Irv squinted as he leaned back to take in all of Cooper’s six foot seven frame like he was looking at a skyscraper.

“Yessir. I’m Cooper and this is Fredo.” They shook hands. Cooper noticed his palms were sweaty, and smooth, like a woman’s. His white skin was pasty, further indication this man spent almost no time outside.

“Well,” Irv said as he rubbed his hands together. “Let’s go look at your drone, shall we?”

 He led them across the driveway and through a garden gate to the side yard. Instead of opening the garage door, he walked them through a single door he unlocked with a key he’d retrieved from the pen protector in his shirt pocket.

Inside, the walls bore shelves, packed to the ceiling with boxes and parts. There was a replica of one of the space shuttles hanging from the ceiling, its NASA logo still proudly displayed. Fredo whistled. Cooper was speechless.

“Gentlemen,” Irv said as he pushed his glasses back onto his nose, “welcome to my man cave.” Irv cracked back his fingers. Fredo winced. He looked genuinely proud of the place, which had the pungent smell of electrical tape and lubricating oil.

A long workbench went the length of the garage’s south wall, with natural light poking through from a small skylight installed overhead. On the wall overhanging the workbench were a variety of tools filling the space, all placed in neat precision. Cooper noted they were wiped down and oiled. Spotless.

The workbench itself was covered with a project that looked like another drone, but slightly larger. Various white plastic parts were held together with metal clamps and wooden spacers. A spiral notebook lay next to the device, containing sketches and scribbled notes.

Irv pulled a long black case from one of the grey metal shelves that was burdened to overflowing with equipment. He gingerly set it down on a white plastic folding table, just like the one in Fredo’s apartment that served as his dining table. The horn-rimmed inventor undid two snapping locks on the front and opened the lid. Embedded in charcoal grey packing foam was a drone, in two pieces. In the lower corner was a controller unit, about ten inches across.

Cooper’s heart rate started to accelerate as he touched the smooth plastic surface as if it was a tusk of ivory. The white belly of the thing almost glowed under his fingers. It was the most exciting toy he’d ever coveted. He’d wanted one since he let one soar over the sandy desert in Afghanistan, a year before they became common use. Initial price tags were way over his budget, costing more than a car. Now, he might actually be able to have one for his very own.

“Okay, now I’m going to tell you the bad news. This was a prototype that didn’t sell, mostly because it is line of sight and everyone wants expensive night vision and IR stuff.”

Fredo stepped closer and asked, “So you can’t use this at night?”

“Well, you could, if you mount an IR camera on it.” Irv answered. “That was going to make it more expensive, and, at the time, they were a little heavy, and costly. Things are changing so fast, it could be done.” He pointed over at the workbench. “Requires some design enhancements.” He turned back to Coop and Fredo. “But I’ll let you do it.”

“I could do it, for sure. You ever run across them?” Cooper asked.

“All the time, but I’m using them. I get one in I don’t need, or want, I’ll give you a call, okay?”

Cooper nodded his head. Then he remembered he wasn’t supposed to show his interest in the equipment, and here he’d been practically drooling all over it. He stiffened, stood straight up and cracked his back by arching behind him.

“Now, let me show you one more thing.” Irv pushed a forest green button on the lower left side of the controller and the screen lit up with a grid pattern.

“Way cool,” Cooper said.

“That’s like a Google map,” Fredo said.

“That’s exactly what it is, or where it came from initially. I uploaded most of California into it. I knew you’d want to try it out in San Diego, so did the whole state, part of Nevada as well.”

“Coop, I know what you’re going to be doing for the next week. Playing with your new airplane,” Fredo added.

Irv giggled and then slapped his hands together. “That’s the coolest part. Half the people will think it’s just that, a toy airplane. Let me show you.” Irv picked up the two pieces. The body of the drone had a slot in the middle of it. He slid the wing section into the slot, positioned it halfway and they heard clicks as the material mated in place. Irv handed the machine to Cooper who almost kissed the man’s toes.

It did look just like a toy airplane.

“So, you gotta admit, that’s worth every penny of a grand, right?”

“But we don’t even know it works,” Coop barely whispered. He licked his lips.

“Oh, it works okay. It works freakin’ awesome!” Irv danced around the room, clicking his fingers together, his canvas slip-ons doing a duck walk Coop hadn’t seen since the last rerun of Soul Train.

Cooper had never in his life paid full retail. For anything. It pained him, but he had to try. “I’ll give you six hundred dollars for it, if it works.”

Fredo gasped. Irv started to grab the drone from Cooper’s fingers. “I’m sorry, but I think you just wasted a lot of time. I thought you was serious.”