True Devotion (5 page)

Closer to them, he was forced to pause and locate them again. Straight west, maybe thirty feet.

Joe pulled one of the pencil flares he carried from the center pouch of the equipment vest he wore. Pulling the safety cap, he took a firm hold and looked away, firing it into the sky. The flare shot above him, marking the location for Boomer and the others, calling in help.

He cut through the water toward Kelly and the boy with every ounce of speed he had. There had been no change in their movements to the sound and light of the flare, a fact that made him fear the worst.

He came in behind Kelly, and the first thing he saw was her hair streaming out in the water behind her, lit by the fading light of the overhead flare. She had the boy in front on her, holding his head above water, treading water for both of them. Joe slid his arm under her shoulders, finding the lack of reaction to his touch alarming. “Kelly.”

She turned her head slowly toward him and her swollen eyes opened. “Joe.” Her smile was beautiful to see. And a ripple of fear shook him, for it was the smile of someone drifting on a dream. . . .

“Kelly, I’ve got him. Release your grip. Let me take him.”

He had to ask her twice before she blinked and removed her arm. The boy looked so pale Joe was afraid he might already be gone. He had to search to find a pulse at the boy’s throat. The only thing that would help now was getting the boy warm. One hand gripping the boy, the other Kelly, Joe used his kick to keep them afloat. “Take a break for a minute. Relax.” He would get vests on them both in a minute; right now he just wanted the reassurance of holding her.

She limply rested her chin on his shoulder, her forehead striking his cheekbone as a wave hit her back. He tightened his hold on her, doing his best to secure her to his side as he held the boy with his other hand. Joe felt more than heard her sigh of relief. “I did my five-mile night-sea swim. Did I earn a baby Trident?”

He smiled, glad to hear the humor under her fatigue, relieved she was coming alert. The Trident pin—with its eagle for air, Revolutionary War pistol for land, and Neptune’s trident for sea, all fit across the Navy’s anchor—defined the SEALs and the men who wore it. “Maybe a tadpole pin.” She felt like ice to his touch, and she was no longer shivering. He had to get her out of this water.

“I thought you would never get here.”

Not anyone,
him.
It was an incredible indication of trust. “I’m sorry I was late.”

“You’re forgiven. I knew you would come.” She reached out a hand toward the boy. “This is my buddy Ryan; he’s a pretty brave kid.”

She’s pretty brave herself.
Joe hugged her, overwhelmed at the sudden emotion. “He owes you his life. Hold on to me while I get him in a vest.” She nodded and her hands closed around his upper arm.

With the boy unconscious, the maneuver was awkward at best.

Joe felt Kelly’s hands slide off his arm; he looked over and lunged out to grab her upper arm as she sank. His heart pounding, he pulled her back to his side. She looked dazed, and he wasn’t sure if she realized what had happened.

Ryan still wasn’t secure in the vest—Joe desperately needed just a couple more moments with a free hand. His options were few. “Kelly, can you put your arms around my neck?” He turned in the water, still holding her, offering her his back. He felt the slick remnants of the sunscreen lotion she had worn that day as her arms brushed his cheek. Her fingers interlaced and then slipped apart, unable to grip.

“Sorry.”

Firmly holding her wrist, he swung her around his body, back in front of him. His arm settled like steel around her waist. “I’ve got you.”

Her head dropped against his shoulder again. “I have to sleep.”

He shook her until she looked back up at him. “Not yet. I’ll have you home and warm soon. Then you can sleep as long as you want.”

The fact it took her time to understand what he said was obvious. She nodded and began kicking again wearily.

Joe worked with one hand to tighten the vest straps around the boy—it wasn’t on fully, but it would have to do. Despite the fact she was trying to kick, Kelly felt limp against his arm. She was dangerously close to a permanent crash. She’d drop unconscious as deep as the boy and he wouldn’t be able to wake her again. Where was Boomer? He cradled Kelly’s head against his shoulder, trying to figure out how to hold on to the boy while he maneuvered her into a vest.

“I love you.”

He froze. They slipped down in the water before he recovered their equilibrium. With her head resting on his shoulder he couldn’t see her face. Frustrated at her timing for such a revelation, Joe had to settle for brushing a kiss across her hair. His heart had just leaped in his throat with an emotion so deep it was choking him. He fought it down even as he wondered if she knew what she was saying. “Tell me that again when you’re not frozen.”

“Okay,” she whispered.

Three

* * *

The arrival of the Coast Guard helicopter overhead was heralded by a bright searchlight that turned the night into day. The rotor wash created a ministorm of flying water around them. Kelly was no longer responding to any attempt to wake her and the boy was barely breathing. Joe watched as a Coast Guard swimmer dropped from fifteen feet into the swells.

The swimmer had just reached them when two Zodiacs appeared from different directions into the circle of light. Boomer and Cougar sliced into the water beside him. “Take the boy!”

As soon as he was handed off, Joe turned his full attention to Kelly, getting her hands out of the water and onto his shoulders. With his hands cradling the back of her neck, he lifted her head higher from the water. In the bright light he could see what he had only suspected before—her eyes were swollen closed, her lips were bleeding, her skin had turned translucent with the cold, and blood vessels were showing starkly blue through her skin. The sight was terrifying.

A stretcher was lowered from the hovering helicopter. Wolf and Cougar worked with the Coast Guard swimmer to get the boy secured in it. The guardsman clipped onto the line and went up with the stretcher. As soon as the Coast Guard chopper had them aboard, its nose dropped and the helicopter took off toward the coast at full throttle.

A second helicopter came in immediately after it. A secure line came down. Boomer grabbed it, quickly forming a buddy harness and keeping it steady as Joe secured the harness around himself and Kelly. The waves were buffeting her, sending her slamming into him and then yanking her back. There was no way to stop the added bruises being inflicted just by the attempts to help her. He flung out his hand to block her head as the line whipped around. This was one of the most dangerous points in a rescue. The pilot was fighting to keep a hover.

“It’s locked,” Wolf yelled as the metal locking ring clicked. Joe immediately waved, and the winch began to lift them from the water. He had rappelled out of and been lifted into one of these Navy helicopters numerous times before, but never with such precious cargo.

The wind spun them around as they rose. Joe ducked his head in close to Kelly’s, trying to shield her face from the stinging spray.

He was pulled inside by two Navy corpsmen. They lowered Kelly into a waiting stretcher and smothered her in a thermal blanket. They immediately turned their focus to how she was breathing.

“Take us to Sharp,” the doctor ordered over the intercom.

“No way! She’s going to North Island.” Sharp was good, but it was civilian and Joe wanted Kelly someplace where Nick’s reputation would make a difference. The second helicopter was Navy, not Coast Guard, and could divert to Naval Air Station North Island where it had originated from with one word from the doctor.

“She’s a civilian.”

“She’s a SEAL dependent. She’s going to North Island.” If the corpsman weren’t in his way, Joe might have made his point with more than words.

A slap on the back paused him midargument. “Bear, quit your growling. Craig Scott is waiting for us on the pad at Sharp.”

Joe turned to see Lincoln in the copilot seat. His boss bore the handle of a legendary president because he delivered that same kind of leadership. The fact he had come out to help with the rescue said a lot, as did the name Craig Scott. The doctor had been one of those who helped put Joe’s shoulder back together. Joe swallowed his protests. His boss nodded. “Let’s beat that coastie to Sharp,” Lincoln ordered the pilot.

Joe settled down beside the door as he watched the doctor and the corpsmen work, ignoring the towel thrust into his hand and the blanket pushed on him.

He hadn’t gotten there in time.

He watched Kelly’s face during the short flight, watched the doctor swear under his breath at the vital sign readings he was getting, and had to live with the reality he had not been in time. She was so pale she looked dead. Joe had seen that pallor before, on her husband’s face, right before Nick died.

Three Years Earlier

Loose nukes.

They were called loose rather than lost because there was hope they could be recovered before someone had to admit that a rogue nation or terrorist group had managed to purchase one. They were leaking out of the former republics of the Soviet Union like they were kept in a sieve. Lately, the SEALs had been chasing them all over the world.

The intel on this one said it was heading to Hong Kong, buyer unknown. While the Middle East rogue nations prowling the black market were frequently in the press spotlight, the countries in East Asia wanting to add a nuclear weapon to their arsenal were just as numerous. North Korea had been willing to risk a nationwide famine to divert resources to build one. South Vietnam might be a democracy, but it felt threatened. And Taiwan . . .

Joe had been on the ground during that tense 1996 missile exchange as China flexed its muscles in an exercise to intimidate Taiwan. The U.S. had responded by sending a carrier into the Taiwan straits. Taiwan needed protection more than it needed words. Israel had achieved that kind of sway by becoming a nuclear power, albeit an undeclared one. Taiwan was moving more and more toward that same frightening posture.

But this reality was different; Taiwan acquiring the weapon would lead to war. China already had them, and they would never allow the breakaway province to acquire one. It was in the United States’ interest to stop this transfer by any means needed.

The water was icy around Joe, dark, for they had lucked into a night of the month with barely a sliver of moon. It was disorienting not to have light reflecting off the surface of the water above to provide a sense of up and down in the murky blackness. Joe followed the gleaming fluorescent numbers on the attack board GPS, relying on technology to replace his senses. The mission had begun.

Odessa, Ukraine, known as the Pearl of the Black Sea, was an eastern European city trying to assimilate to Western commerce while still bearing the government bureaucracy of the past. The seaport authority had expanded the oil terminal with reservoirs for storage of both light and crude oil products. The passenger terminal now had six major berths for luxury liners. A new cold storage facility had been built.

It was an active port, with three break walls creating seven thousand meters of protected waters, and that activity could hide a lot of unwelcome commerce. Smugglers willing to part with some cash could find ways around the rules that “any cargo may be stored with the exception of ecologically harmful, poisonous, or explosive ones.” Joe didn’t imagine the port authority would be too pleased to learn they had outside help to enforce that mandate.

Cougar had jokingly asked how the seaport authorities would classify a nuclear warhead since it was a clear violation of all three exceptions—it was definitely explosive, poisonous, and ecologically harmful. It was a good thing they were going to recover it before anyone knew it was around, or some Ukrainian bureaucrat would have to change his forms.

Joe had found the humor a useful indication that Golf Platoon was ready for the mission. Like most missions, it was dangerous, deadly, and now—his platoon had taken the assignment in stride and dug into the planning. Six hours after getting paged, they had been on a C-130 transport plane bound for Italy.

The numbers wavered as he came to a stop, the numbers reading coordinates decided upon during the planning session. A glance at his watch showed they had arrived within the expected margin of time. He let his body drift, getting a better sense of the current.

Boomer, who had gotten engaged two months before, managed to get a fast call in to cancel dinner with his fiancée the next evening as they packed and headed for their ride, using the tried but true “training exercise, I’m sorry” wording.

Joe couldn’t blame the man. Not many engagements, let alone marriages, survived the transition to the reality of a SEAL’s life. It was a glamorous life until the inconvenience of deployments began to rub the wrong way, the required silence rankled, the danger created fear. Boomer and Christi might make it—Joe hoped they did—but they were fighting long odds. He had seen too many SEAL marriages get in trouble and fail despite all the best intentions.

Nick and Kelly made it work. Joe wondered briefly how they did it. He had been friends with Nick for four years, watched them together, and knew they had something special. Kelly adapted, maybe that was the secret. Neither the pages that interrupted life nor the danger of her husband’s job appeared to ruffle her. She didn’t particularly like the injuries from training, but she understood the sweat-now-or-bleed-later reality. Kelly understood the job, and that was unique.

The clock on the attack board gleamed 0212 hours. The wait was over. They never moved on the hour or at any other predictable time—it was a rookie mistake.

Reaching for the rope at his waist, Joe tugged the buddy line to signal Nick. They floated to the surface, sixty meters outside the original and oldest break wall at the Odessa port. In the dark of a moonless night—black wet suits, faces painted, weapons secure at their backs—they were barely visible to each other only meters apart.