Rusted Jungle

By R. L. Keller

(The first part based on one of Pauline’s older Contrived pictures)

Lee slowly dragged himself through the last of the twisted metal remains on the shoreline, keeping a close watch on his boss doing the same thing. As they finally found a small but clean place to stand, he stopped. “Sorry, sir, but I have to say, that wasn’t the greatest idea you’ve ever come up with.”

Nelson was tempted to smack his irreverent captain, but Lee was standing to his left and that arm hurt too much. Well, everything hurt too much so he simply glared at Lee a moment, before reality set in. “Understatement of the century,” he admitted. Both men sighed heavily and sank down to rest in the wet sand.

Seaview had been returning home to Santa Barbara from the Indian Ocean, passing along a desolate stretch between Australia and Indonesia/Papua New Guinea, when sonar went a little crazy. Lt. Keeter, on Dog Watch at 0515 hours, brought the giant submarine to a halt. He almost smiled as he didn’t bother calling his CO to the Conn. He did keep an eye on the ship’s chronometer, and timed how long it took for firm steps on the spiral stairs to announce Cdr. Crane’s arrival from Officers’ Country. It was Seaview lore that the man could be half dead and still know instantly what his beloved boat was doing. Keeter did his best to keep a benign expression on his face as Lee walked swiftly to where he was standing, looking over Seaman Grafton’s shoulder, the sonar operator at that hour. Keeter silently handed Lee the second set of headphones as Grafton carefully monitored his screen.

Lee didn’t listen long. “That’s a large hunk of metal, but…”

“Yes, sir,” Grafton told him. “But weird. Not like a single ship; more like a lot of little boats, but haphazard along the coast.”

“I’d have to check, but when Mr. Morton plotted this route I think he said that he couldn’t remember ever coming through this channel before.” He sent a wry smile between Grafton and Keeter. “Something about the Admiral’s new shortcut.” There were a couple of soft groans heard around the Conn. Another bit of Seaview lore pertained to the Admiral’s ‘shortcuts’ not always being so short. Lee couldn’t stop the small chuckle that escaped. “Come to periscope depth, Keeter.”

“Aye, aye, sir,” and the O.D. started issuing the necessary commands as Lee took one more listen to sonar, then went to stand on the periscope island until Seaview came to the correct depth.

Just as that happened, both Chip and Nelson also came down the spiral stairs. Lee pointed to sonar, then raised the periscope to have a look outside.

“Lee?” came from Nelson half a minute later.

“From a first glance, sir, a WWII Japanese cruiser, destroyer maybe, but blown to bits and quietly rusting away.” He stepped back as Nelson came for his own look. “It’s still so dark out I can’t see much. Could even be Australian, I suppose,” Lee added. “Not sure there’s enough left to tell.”

“I see what you mean,” Nelson agreed after he’d given the wreck a long look. “But I’d like to study it further. If it’s an undocumented wreck…” His voice trailed off.

Lee looked at Chip, who had to turn his back ostensibly to tell Keeter to surface Seaview. But Nelson’s look at Lee told him Nelson knew exactly why Chip had turned away. Nor was Lee able to control his own expression. “Yes, Lee. And you, too, Chip,” Nelson tried to growl. But his own expression couldn’t hold, either, and he ended up nodding. The whole boat, and entire NIMR for that matter, knew only too well the Admiral’s insatiable curiosity – about everything! “But after breakfast,” he added firmly.

“Yes, sir,” Lee told him, still unable to keep a small grin off of his face. Nelson backhanded Lee’s shoulder and they both stepped off the periscope island. “Keeter, for now let’s stay here. The channel seems quiet so we shouldn’t have any trouble with surface traffic.”

“Aye, aye, sir,” came instantly back.

“We’ll surface when I’m ready,” Nelson added. “I think we’ll take a zodiac over,” he told Lee. “We may be able to search better from the beach.”

“Yes, sir,” Lee agreed. Nelson finally grinned. “For now,” he sent a look between Lee and Chip, “I suggest we all head back to our cabins, and get ready for the day a little more under control than I dare say we all just did.”

“Yes, sir,” it was Chip’s turn to answer, and the three headed back up the spiral stairs. But not before Lee, the last to leave, sent a particularly large grin around the Conn, and to Lt. Keeter in particular. He got a quick grin and a nod back before following the other two senior officers.

All three were still a bit early – well, earlier than usual – getting to the Wardroom. Cookie was just starting to put out the basics; no sign yet of what the main course was this morning. Lee had to smother a grin as the three walked in. “No worries,” he instantly told Seaview’s premier chef – and her back-up Nuclear Reactor Specialist. “We got an early start to the day but we’re really in no major hurry.”

“Felt the boat stop,” Winston Barnard, who hadn’t been called anything other than ‘Cookie’ since taking over the position – and liked it that way – answered. “Baked eggs with asparagus and zucchini coming out in about ten minutes.” Lee pointed an eyebrow at him and Cookie sent an almost shy look back. “Had some veggies that needed using. Didn’t want to waste them.”

“Sounds like an interesting combination,” Nelson told him. Cookie nodded and headed back into the Galley. The three each poured coffee, and waited until everything was out before filling their trays and sitting down. They’d just barely started eating when Seaview’s CMO ambled in. “Did we get you up early, too, Will?” Nelson asked.

Will shrugged and went to get his own breakfast before sitting down next to Nelson. “Not really,” he admitted. “Oh, I realized that the boat was stopped when I woke up. But since there weren’t any sirens blaring, I took my time.” The other three nodded, each sending the doctor a small grin.

“We found an anomaly on the shoreline,” Lee told him trying, unsuccessfully, to keep a smirk off of his face because he knew what reaction he’d get.

“Help,” Will muttered immediately, and both Lee and Chip snickered. Will sent a firm look at Nelson. It wasn’t quite a glare, but close to it.

“Yes, Will,” Nelson admitted with a sigh. “I want to take a look.” Between bites he explained what he and Lee had seen through the periscope.

“You don’t believe that it just ran aground?” Will asked.

“Blown into too many pieces,” Lee told him. “Well,” he amended, “that’s what it looks like from the initial look. Lots of bits of twisted metal scattered around, not just a single mass with some pieces fallen off.”

Will nodded. “You’re all up to date on your tetanus shots,” he told them in his usual dry tone.

“I don’t plan on getting that close,” Nelson told him. “I merely want to check for any identifying marks; see if I can tell what ship it was, and maybe why it ended up here.”

Will waved off the explanation and concentrated on his meal. Lee shared a look with his boss and once more failed to control a grin. This time Nelson had to smile as well, and the rest of the meal was spent discussing bits of boat’s business.

Once Lee and Chip got back to the Conn, Chip took the Duty, releasing Lt. Keeter early – something that was actually normal aboard Seaview although today it was a bit earlier than usual - while Lee once more checked outside by periscope, then ordered the boat to surface. Not noticed at depth, there was a breeze starting to churn up the water, but not so bad as to bother the Helmsman keeping Seaview steady in one spot.

Before leaving the Wardroom, Nelson had told Lee that he’d take care of notifying Chief Sharkey of the need for a zodiac and pilot. Lee had just assumed that it would be the COB who would assign himself to pilot duty, so wasn’t surprised as he joined Nelson at the boarding hatch in the sail when that’s exactly who brought the small craft along side the boat, held in position by Seamen Rogers and Lewis while Lee and Nelson jumped aboard.

Lee sent a glance at the sky; not noticed through the periscope, heavy clouds were gathering. The weather was too warm for jackets, however, so all three men ignored the sky and concentrated on the beach. What Sharkey couldn’t ignore was the sudden blast of wind as he guided the zodiac around Seaview’s bow. Both Nelson and Lee glanced at him as the zodiac almost bucked underneath them. But Sharkey was very experienced at handling the craft and quickly had it back under control. As he came closer to the coastline he cruised by the main portion of wreckage, what had been whatever-this-was’s bow.

“Too much rust,” was Lee’s observation as both he and Nelson scanned the hulk for any sign of a name.

“I don’t recognize the design,” Nelson added. “Well, at least from what we can see.”

“Yeah,” Lee agreed, then realized that he was having to yell as the wind suddenly gusted. He wasn’t sure Nelson had heard him as he watched his boss point Sharkey around the major piece of wreckage to the other side.

That’s where everything seemed to happen at once. Another gust of wind caught the small craft just as Sharkey was working his way around the jagged edges of where the bow had separated from the rest of whatever the ship had been, slamming the zodiac against the rusty hulk. Nelson was tossed into the water at the same time the soft side of the craft suffered a puncture. “Get back to the boat,” Lee ordered Sharkey as he jumped into the water as close as he could to where he’d seen Nelson go in.

Sharkey was in a quandary. No way did he want to leave, but with the zodiac’s slow leak he had no choice. He understood his CO’s reasoning; with the weight of only one person, he just might be able to get back before the craft sunk. And he needed to report the incident and bring back help since no one brought a radio, thinking that they’d only be what amounted to not that many yards away from Seaview. He said a prayer and powered away from the wreck.

Lee was instantly alarmed because Nelson didn’t immediately come back to the surface from his unintended dive. Thankfully the water wasn’t especially deep at that spot, but visibility was terrible. He actually felt cloth almost immediately, but it was frantically moving around and he had a hard time getting a good grip on what he finally recognized as Nelson’s arm. But when he tugged, Nelson wouldn’t come with him. He tugged again as best he could, with nothing but water to brace himself and this time, thankfully, there was movement. But the instant both heads were above water Lee noticed the pain written all too clearly on his boss’ face and started looking for the closest place he could see land.

It took some time, having to work around several pieces of twisted, rusting, metal. No words were spoken until both men were finally standing, somewhat unsteadily, on wet sand. That was when Lee made his irreverent comment. It wasn’t until they were both settled on the ground that Lee noticed red spreading out from a tear in Nelson’s left sleeve. “Sir,” he yelled over the increasingly strong winds.

“My sleeve got caught on debris,” Nelson yelled back.

“More than your sleeve,” Lee grumbled, and scooted closer to evaluate the damage. There wasn’t much he could do except bunch up some of the fabric around the tear and try to hold it firmly against the jagged cut he found on Nelson’s upper arm. Nelson cringed, but understood that it needed to be done.

“Where’s Sharkey?” Nelson finally asked.

“When we hit the wreck and you got tossed out, it punctured the zodiac,” Lee explained, not having to yell quite so loudly since he was now sitting right next to Nelson. “I jumped out to help you and ordered him back to Seaview. Hopefully he made it before the zodiac sank, but at least he should have gotten far enough to have been spotted by the lookouts.” Lee frowned. “Hopefully whoever comes over in the other zodiac will have better luck.” Nelson merely growled something undecipherable, and the pair waited in silence through the increasingly gathering storm.

It took a while, and Lee was getting progressively anxious as he was unable to completely staunch the blood coming from the jagged cut on Nelson’s arm. Nelson himself, once he realized that Lee wasn’t going to let him move, spent the time looking around at the scattered pieces of rusted boat they were sitting in the middle of. But it was no more help from this angle than it had been from the water. “Whatever happened,” he got out a little more calmly, but then didn’t continue.

“Looks like either an internal explosion.” Lee shook his head. “A heck of a big one,” he added. “Or maybe multiple torpedoes?” That came out a definite question.

“I’m not sure, in this channel, torpedoes could have hit it in the center. That’s about the only way it would have ended up here, in this many pieces.”

“Or one torpedo hit munitions the ship was carrying. This could have been a cargo ship.”

“That would do it,” Nelson agreed. Then, despite the heat, started to shiver.

“Sir!” There was major concern in that one word.

“It is what it is,” Nelson said firmly, and willed himself to sit still. But he added, with what part of a smile he could manufacture for his worried captain, “You know Chip will send rescue as fast as he can. He doesn’t want your job. Too much paperwork.”

Lee’s frown slowly turned to as much of a smile as it could under the circumstances. “Yes, sir,” he got out. The pair sat quietly for what seemed to Lee to be an eternity.

It was, however, barely twenty minutes. It turned out that Patterson, one of the lookouts, had actually been in position to see at least part of the accident. When Sharkey turned the zodiac and headed back alone, he immediately reported to the Conn and the second zodiac was prepared. Will, who had come to the Observation Nose once Seaview surfaced, called Sick Bay and had Frank, his senior Corpsman who was on duty at that hour, grab an ERK* and join whatever rescue party was being assembled. “Just in case,” he’d told Chip, who nodded agreement and tried to get Seaview as close as he could to the wreck. The second zodiac, instead of heading directly for the wreck, headed just far enough east of the last piece of metal to have a clean landing spot. Besides Frank, the small craft carried Seaman Maxwell, head of Seaview’s DC team, Seaman Wilkes from Engineering, and was piloted by Senior Rating Kowalski who, the instant he was sure that the small craft was secure on firm land, joined the other three running for the junkyard of scattered, twisted, chucks of metal.

Lee could almost smile as the instant Frank appeared Nelson, who had been increasingly quiet during the wait, started blustering. Lee couldn’t help himself. “Sir, please, shut up and let Frank take care of you.” The look Nelson instantly shot him was fierce, but couldn’t be held as the others had to struggle not to burst out laughing at how their Skipper could ‘handle’ the temperamental Admiral. Nelson finally nodded, albeit grudgingly just to keep up appearances, and Lee scooted back to let Frank settle next to Nelson’s left side.

“Sir,” Kowalski asked Lee.

This time Lee’s smile was genuine. “Wet, worried, tired, but unhurt, ‘Ski.” He reached out a hand to the Seaman. Wilkes and Maxwell raised almost identical eyebrows as Kowalski helped Lee stand up; their Skipper almost never accepted assistance of that kind. Lee caught the reaction but chose to ignore it. The adrenaline rush from seeing Nelson, his boss, his mentor…so many things neither man could completely identify but mostly his friend, tossed out of the zodiac and then not immediately be able to get to the surface, had worn off during the wait for rescue and he had to admit that he was a little shaky himself.

It didn’t take Frank long to cut away Nelson’s shirt sleeve and get enough of a temporary bandage in place so that they could head back to Seaview. Lee’s turn to offer the OOM a hand – on Nelson’s right side – which the older man accepted with a wry grin. Frank walked on Nelson’s left side but didn’t offer any help until they were back at the zodiac. Nelson, apparently through his own pain finally realizing that Lee wasn’t at his best, let Frank help him into the craft, and smiled as then Lee actually let Kowalski help him in. Extra hands back at the boat helped everyone back aboard. Will immediately took charge of Nelson, getting a verbal report from Frank as they both escorted the Admiral to Sick Bay.

Chip gave Lee a long look, which Lee easily met. “Wet, tired, but unhurt,” Lee muttered. “I’ll go change.”

“Orders?” Chip did ask.

Lee shrugged. “No idea. We didn’t discuss much back there except a lack of any useful intel from the wreckage.” He shrugged again. “Well, what we did sort of settle on was, it was possibly a cargo ship loaded with munitions that got torpedoed in exactly the wrong place. The wreckage is more of a mess from land than it looks like even from the water.”

“You don’t suppose that the Admiral will want to tug some of the pieces into the water for reef-building?” That had happened in the past.

“Other things on our mind,” Lee told him, and Chip nodded.

“The Admiral had a call from Admiral Jones just after you left.”

“That explains why you’ve been frowning ever since we got back.” Chip nodded. Everyone on Seaview, and at NIMR itself, knew that Chip wasn’t fond of the Office of Naval Intelligence, which Admiral Jones headed. “I rather think Admiral Nelson will still be in Jamie’s clutches by the time I take a quick shower. I’ll let him know.” Chip nodded and headed back to the Conn from the Boarding Hatch, and Lee headed for his cabin.

He was right. When he walked into Sick Bay about twenty minutes later his boss, who had been relieved of his soaked uniform and was laying on one of the treatment tables partially covered by a blanket, was having his arm stitched. “Orders, sir?” Lee asked respectfully.

“Only one you won’t follow because despite your crabbing – and mine – you like your CMO.”

Lee couldn’t help himself – he burst out laughing. There was a snort from Will, the two Corpsmen, now both in attendance, had to turn their backs, and even Nelson finally smiled. “Chip said that you had a call from Admiral Jones while we were ashore.” Nelson pointed an eyebrow at him. “Chip didn’t say and I didn’t ask. Apparently he wants you to call him back when you can.”

“Shortly,” Nelson told him firmly.

“Harrumph,” Will muttered.

“I’m out of here,” Lee mumbled and turned to leave.

“Coward,” Nelson managed to tease his captain.

“Yes, sir,” Lee admitted, but didn’t turn as he scurried back out the door. Once the door was firmly closed behind him, he grinned and headed for the Conn.

He’d felt Seaview shift slightly while taking his very quick shower, but discovered that Chip had merely put Seaview back in the middle of the channel. Chip did raise an eyebrow, Lee related his quick visit to Sick Bay, and they both grinned softly. They also both stayed in the Conn, quietly keeping watch and occasionally kibitzing about odds and ends until there was a call from Nelson, now back in his cabin, to Sparks to put through the call to Admiral Jones.

“Wonder what he wants you for this time,” Chip growled softly enough that Lee was the only one to hear.

“I suspect that we’ll find out sooner rather than later,” Lee told him philosophically. The words were barely out of his mouth when Nelson called over the intercom for Lee to come to his cabin. Lee sent Chip a small smile and a shrug, and headed up the spiral stairs.

Nelson called “Enter,” at Lee’s crisp knock, then added to his phone, obviously on ‘speaker’ mode, “He’s here, Robert.” Lee closed the door and stood almost at attention. He wasn’t surprised that his boss was dressed in a fresh uniform, and made no comment about Nelson’s left arm being now encased in a sling.

“Crane,” ONI’s Director said officiously.

“Sir,” Lee answered, but looked at Nelson. His boss almost had a smile on his face, which totally puzzled Lee.

“You remember Neal Bachman?” came more demand than question from Jones.

“Yes, sir,” Lee answered.

“We both do,” Nelson added. Seaview had brought the ONI agent out of a sticky situation he’d ended up in last year off the west coast of South Africa.**

“He needs some backup. Not rescued,” Jones added firmly, “on an assignment in the Solomon Islands. He’s mostly worked alone, doesn’t know a lot of people, trusts even less.”

“Understood, sir,” Lee told him honestly. ONI service could do that to a person all too easily, make one paranoid, not knowing who to trust.

“I can tell you where to find him,” Jones continued. “From there he’ll have to explain.”

“Understood, sir. Do I need any special equipment?”

There was a pause that neither Lee nor Nelson interrupted. Finally, “Arm yourself with whatever you’re comfortable with. Maybe supplies for two or three days.” There was a heavy sigh. “If it takes longer than that…well, lets hope that it doesn’t.” That last came out with a grump.

“Day work or night, sir?” Lee asked. At Nelson’s raised eyebrow he added for both Admirals, “Makes a difference what I wear.”

“Best guess dark,” Jones came back.

“Lee, go start packing what you need,” Nelson now told him. “I’ll get directions and have Sharkey pre-flight FS1.”

“Yes, sir. Ah, sirs,” he added, and left.

Lee had a rather standard set of equipment that he liked to have with him, that lived in a specialized backpack. Depending on the assignment he could add or subtract easily. In this case he changed from his uniform to what Chip snidely referred to as his ONI uniform – dark slacks, dark pullover top, and simi-soft-soled shoes, sturdy but quiet to walk in. He did add a few extra clothes, a handful of nutrition bars – edible from their original inedible form now that Jamie had gotten involved in what they were made of – and a couple extra items he thought might come in handy, like bug spray.

When he came back down to the Conn, Nelson met him at the bottom of the stairs, a small radio in his right hand. “Robert didn’t say, and I didn’t ask, how Bachman was keeping in contact. This is set to one of Sparks’ obscure channels.” Lee nodded as he added the radio to his pack. “Sharkey will drop you on a quiet stretch of coast. You’ll have about a two mile hike to the edge of a small village.” He handed Lee a slip of paper he’d pulled from his pocket. “Compass coordinates and a description of the house. Well,” he sent Lee half a smile, “the building where you should find Bachman.”

“Did Admiral Jones indicate if we’d be pulling Bachman out when we’re done?”

“He did not,” Nelson admitted with a shrug. “I’ll try calling him tomorrow, but it might be left up to Bachman.”

“Understood.” And Lee did. Service was different for him, a part-time agent, than it was for the full-time ones. He sent a look toward the chart table, where Chip was standing, and sent his friend a nod, gave Nelson half a salute, and headed down the ladder into FS1.

* * * *

For a change, all went well. Lee had learned not to get cocky because at any moment everything could – and all too often did – go to hell-in-a-handbasket, as the saying went. But the beach was quiet where Sharkey dropped him off, his hike to the village was uneventful, and the building he was looking for was set slightly away from the others around it. Lee knelt behind some scrub brush and sent a soft bird whistle toward the building – for a bird that should be nowhere near a South Pacific island. He waited, but when nothing happened after a couple of minutes he sent the call again. And again, there was no reaction. A combination of frustration mixed with worry was starting to set in, but he decided to give it one more try.

“Heard you the first time,” came softly from behind him.

Lee startled, then slightly straightened and tapped his forehead against a small tree trunk next to him before turning around. “Ghost,” he muttered as he found Bachman barely four feet behind where he had been kneeling.

“I’m real,” came back in a puzzled tone.

Lee finally smiled. “No, ‘Ghost’ is what the SEALs call a person who can move through any terrain, silently, and leave no indication that he was ever there.”

Bachman didn’t smile. A quick thought passed through Lee’s mind as to whether or not he’d ever seen the tall, slender Black man smile, and decided that he had the first time they’d met, but only faintly, never a broad one. “Thanks for coming,” he said. He still hadn’t moved a muscle that Lee could notice.

“Was in the neighborhood,” Lee told him casually, now that his heart was back to beating naturally after the scare. “Happy to help, whatever is going on. Admiral Jones just said where to find you, and that you’d brief me.”

That got a nod. “This way.” Bachman rose and headed, first deeper into the brush, then in a roundabout way to the building. Lee could only shake his head at how easily the man moved, yet made absolutely no sound doing it. Lee was pretty good at that, himself, but Bachman had him beat by a mile.

Bachman didn’t go into the building, whatever it was, but skirted around it to the other side, and from there, after a careful look around, to a much smaller one also kind of set back into another section of the surrounding half-jungle. So far Lee hadn’t seen or heard another living thing. “We are not alone,” Bachman seemed to read his mind. “Tonight is a celebration of sorts for the people who live here. They are all gathered at a beach to the west of here. It was fortunate you could come tonight.”

“Pure accident,” Lee admitted.

Bachman merely shrugged and entered the smaller building. “We will stay here only a few hours, and leave before dawn. We must hike into the jungle, but it is not safe to travel that way in the dark.” He lit a small candle as he spoke, and Lee found himself in what was basically a one-room hut. It was clean but sparsely furnished. The candle in its holder sat on a small table. There were no chairs, but several grass mats were scattered around the wood floor, and a couple in one corner were larger and thicker, no doubt intended for sleeping. Across from them was a stone fire pit built into the outside wall. Not an actual fireplace because there was no chimney; the pit was vented through the wall to the outside. Inside there was a wire frame from which a cooking pot was suspended.

“You’re okay with being seen in the daylight?” Lee questioned, a bit confused.

“I’m not okay with being eaten by what travels those trails at night.”

“Oh.” That got a nod from Bachman, and Lee headed for one of the sleeping mats.

“Pay no mind to the yelling and shouts that will no doubt accompany the return of the villagers. They will be very drunk.”

“That kind of celebration,” Lee said softly.

Bachman shrugged. “I’m told it has been happening for many years on this particular new moon.”

“All over the world people celebrate what makes sense to them. Just because it doesn’t make sense to others doesn’t make it wrong.” That last came out a little stronger than Lee had meant it to, and he sent Bachman a slightly shy look.

The African merely nodded and sat down on one of the smaller mats. “Hungry?”

Lee pointed to his pack, taken off when he sat down and lying beside him. “Munchies,” he said with a smile, in reference to their first meeting.

Bachman nodded but still didn’t smile. “There is a man in the next…not really a town, but a little bigger than this village.” Lee sent him a nod and sat up straighter than he had been, knowing that Bachman was about to tell him why he was here. “He is Indian, or Pakistani, or something. Everyone I’ve talked to calls him something else.” Lee again nodded. “He doesn’t like Blacks. Even when they speak with a British accent.” Bachman came as close to an actual smile as Lee had ever seen on the man. “He is a broker; a dealer of information, from one source to another, trading where he can, buying and selling when those are his only options.”

“What kind of intel?”

Bachman shrugged. “Whatever he thinks he can use.” Lee nodded. “From what I’ve been told, and what I could gather, he is not necessarily a bad man.”

“A survivor,” Lee guessed, and Bachman nodded.

“People use him to get what perhaps they cannot, and in return they provide him with what they can get. Sometimes it’s merely food, clothing, supplies so the villagers can live.” He expression hardened. “Sometimes it’s information one party can use against another, although that seems to be separate from his main focus, which is protecting his village.”

“If he’s not a local…”

Bachman nodded. “He’s married to a local. His children live in the village.”

“Ah.”

“He depends on the trade with outsiders, and is known by his ability to seek out those people and things others need; or already have enough of to trade.”

“Understood. And he has something you want, but he won’t deal with you.”

“Correct.” Bachman sighed. “His prejudice was unknown until I arrived. Either that, or its new.” He shrugged. “When I first saw him, even before I was ready to approach him, it was very evident that there was going to be a problem. But at that point I wasn’t totally sure what the problem was.” He shrugged again. “I still don’t, really. I just know that he will have nothing to do with me.” He glanced down at himself. “I am the darkest skinned person I’ve seen anywhere around here,” he admitted.

“Could he somehow recognize you? That it’s not a matter of color, but maybe somehow he knows your face and has been warned not to deal with you?” Lee pondered.

“Possible, I suppose. But I have never been anywhere near here. This is my first assignment outside of Africa. And it’s not like I’ve been parading around. Been keeping to myself as much as possible.”

Lee’s turn to shrug. “Who knows,” he muttered, almost to himself, but Bachman nodded. “So, what intel are you after, that he can supposedly supply?”

Bachman didn’t immediately answer. Finally, “The identity of the man who killed my family.”

* * * *

The story came out slowly, in pieces, as the pair made their way along several trails once daylight started to appear on the horizon. Lee hadn’t slept. After Bachman’s bombshell comment they’d both heard sounds of returning revelers, and the agent had blown out the candle. Lee could only shake his head at the sounds around him, but no one tried to enter this building, and quicker than he would have thought, the noises quieted. When he and Bachman carefully exited and quickly made their way back into heavy cover, the only sounds Lee heard, other than natural ones from the surrounding area, was the occasional snore. Once they were safely away from the village, still being careful of wandering wildlife, Bachman gave Lee the highlights of his story.

Once Lee and Seaview had brought Bachman safely out of South Africa they’d headed north along the coastline, staying underwater for the most part and stopping occasionally to set out data collectors, or servicing ones set out previously, until Admiral Jones was able to arrange for a Seahawk helicopter out of Port Harcourt, Rivers State, Nigeria, to pick up the agent. Bachman had returned Lee’s backpack to him the next morning minus, of course, the two thumb drives, and the agent’s actual mission was never mentioned.

“From there a military flight took me directly to London, then DC,” he told Lee. “It was decided that it might be a good idea for me to lay low for a while, so I went back to England and worked out of the office there.” He paused and looked at Lee. “Until I was about to go crazy.”

“I hate getting stuck too long on land,” Lee told him.

Bachman nodded. “What it did do was, give me time and opportunity to do a little unofficial digging into old records, looking for anything connected to the destruction of the village I was born in.”

“You escaped?”

Bachman shook his head. “I had already been sent to England. My grandfather had served with the British when they still ruled Kenya.” Lee nodded. “But he had never lost his love for his roots, I guess you’d call it now; the small village where he had been born, married my grandmother, and raised his family. My mother…that’s another story. My father preferred to stay in Africa, but in Nairobi where he found work but could still be close to his parents and siblings. My mother was born in Nairobi, but hated it. Against my father’s wishes she got a job at the British Embassy and managed to get transferred to London, taking me with her.”

“Are your parents still alive?” Lee asked carefully.

It took Bachman a bit to answer. “Dad was visiting his parents for a few days when poachers – or what was blamed on poachers at the time – came through and destroyed the entire village, and everyone in it.”

“Damn,” snuck out softly before Lee could stop it.

“When my mother got the news I was at university. She didn’t bother telling me for almost two months. I wrote to Dad infrequently, and he answered pretty much as little. By that time we had little in common.”

“Understood. But apparently your mother was notified. Why didn’t she tell you immediately?” He paused. “Sorry. None of my business.”

Bachman waved it off. “Her revenge on my father was making sure that my British education was paid for, in the hope that I’d forget all about Kenya. She finally told me the day I graduated from Oxford, and I haven’t spoken to her since. For some reason she never divorced my father but I found out that, two days after she’d been told he was dead, she married her long-time lover. Who I also didn’t know about.” That last came out in a growl.

Lee sighed heavily. “Family,” he said in a commiserating tone.

They walked in silence for a bit. “I heard something on the boat before I was picked up. About your mother?” The last came out in a definite question, and Lee instantly smiled.

“My dad was killed when I was five. He was a US Navy pilot. Mom wasn’t happy about my joining. But at least she has supported me my whole life, with whatever decisions I chose to make. Most of the crew have met her. She’s a neat lady.” Pride easily came through his voice.

“As you say, family.” Bachman agreed. “We each deal with our own.”

Lee nodded. “So,” he got back to the original story, “you found out something about your grandparents’ village?”

Again, Bachman was quiet for a bit. “One night a room that held old files was accidentally left unlocked, and unattended,” the agent finally said softly. Lee made no comment. He’d had his own investigation into past family history*** and totally understood Bachman’s need for any and all intel that he could lay his hands on. No matter what he had to do to get it!

“I found a heavily redacted report of the village incident.” He frowned. “Someone’s idea of covering up the truth – it was that obvious – and then burying it where they thought it would never be found.”

“Lovely,” Lee muttered darkly.

“Didn’t work,” Bachman sneered. “There was enough to lead me to what was apparently an earlier report that the second person didn’t know existed.”

Lee momentarily stopped walking and stared at Bachman. “Could have used you a couple of years ago,” he told the agent honestly. Bachman raised an eyebrow, but when Lee didn’t explain and merely continued walking, the agent continued as well.

“There still wasn’t much to go on, but enough to understand that the ‘poachers’ were mercenaries hired to kill my grandfather for something – and I’m not sure what – that happened while he was serving in the British military, and to leave no witnesses.”

“That was years…” Lee didn’t even know how to finish his disgusting thought.

“Family,” Bachman told him. “In this case, the son of someone my grandfather helped capture and incarcerate. For what, that I’ve never been able to discover.”

“Doesn’t matter,” Lee told him firmly. “Right is right, and orders are orders.”

“And when it’s wrong for you,” Bachman added in a growl, “you pay others to make it right for you.”

“Unfortunately,” Lee reluctantly agreed. “You have a name,” came out with conviction.

“That’s about all I have.”

Lee stopped walking again. Once Bachman stopped as well and turned back to look at him, it still took Lee a second to get out his question as he all but stared at the agent. “How is it that you are here with Admiral Jones’ knowledge and permission?” If this was a personal vendetta – something that Lee, unfortunately knew something about - Bachman should have been totally on his own.

“ONI doesn’t like pirates very much.” It came out almost casual.

“And the man you want is a pirate.”

Bachman shrugged. “He hires them, but he stays hidden.”

“The man you need intel from?” Definitely a question.

“Has been known to deal with my target.”

“Knows where to find him?”

Bachman shrugged again. “Not sure. But knows how to contact him.”

Lee took a deep breath. “And when you find this man?” Bachman didn’t answer, he merely turned and continued walking. He did glance back when a word slipped out of Lee’s mouth; one he almost never used, but wasn’t able this time to stop it. Lee did continue to walk, his brain now working overtime.

He did, honestly, understand Bachman’s motives. He would have, and pretty much did, move heaven and earth to get to the bottom of the story when intel about his own father’s death came out. As much as he hated killing, he was never sure what he would have done if Gonzalo Rosas hadn’t instigated the gunfight that killed him; and nearly killed Lee!

Right and wrong. Who was to say which was which, and how much it changed, given changing circumstances. Who has the right to make those decisions for others. He almost laughed at that horrible pun, no matter how right it was.

“What do you have to offer this man for the intel?” he finally asked. He considered adding, what was Bachman going to do with that information but quickly decided that he didn’t want to know.

“In my backpack is a small package containing a very handsome reward,” Bachman answered easily. “It will buy him many things for his village.” Lee nodded. “And untraceable, so he need not worry anyone discovering where it came from.”

“In his line of work, I would expect him to trade mostly in goods.”

“Mostly,” Bachman agreed. “But some things he needs to buy.”

“Yeah, that makes sense,” Lee agreed, thinking it through.

Once more they walked in silence. Lee estimated that they’d traveled about four miles; he admonished himself for not keeping better track, but he’d gotten totally caught up in Bachman’s story and how it related to his own history.

“How were you going to approach this man with your offer of cash for intel? I would imagine that he has to be extremely careful who he discusses anything with, particularly strangers. And especially if he sees us together.”

“He won’t,” Bachman assured him, then qualified when Lee raised an eyebrow. “See us together, that is.” Lee nodded. “Once we are just a bit closer I will give you the package, and describe the man you are looking for. He owns the local store; it’s how he is able to keep his sideline mostly covered up.”

“That would work,” Lee agreed.

Bachman nodded. “He is known in certain circles, and it is not entirely unusual for strangers to enter his store.”

“You’ve done your homework.” Lee sent him a nod and a small smile.

“Had to, then had to scramble when he reacted so badly to seeing me.” Lee nodded again. “There is a nature preserve on the other side of the village. People working or hiking there come into his store for supplies. But after dark, sometimes they come bringing him supplies,” he added.

“I can’t openly walk in and offer him cash for intel, surely.”

Bachman shrugged. “I was going to drop a hint, and hopefully he would ask me back after dark.”

“Sounds like a plan,” Lee agreed. They didn’t go much farther before Bachman stopped and walked a few feet deeper into heavier cover. Both men found a place to kneel on the ground and Bachman took from his pack a leather case, folded in half, and handed it to Lee. It was a good deal heavier than Lee was expecting. He unfolded it and found that both sides were actually pockets that each held a rather impressive amount of gold coins. He whistled softly. “Do I dicker?”

Bachman shook his head. “I’m actually hoping that he takes one look at that and quickly gives up the intel.” He sent Lee an almost smile. “I admire what he is doing for his people, and planned on giving him all of that. I suspect…well, I hope, actually, that once I have what I want, he might need that,” he nodded to the packet, “because he will be getting less from the pirates.”

Lee nodded. “Assuming that your plan works…?” He raised an eyebrow.

“Make no attempt to indicate that you are not on your own,” Bachman told him. “Do whatever you want to bide your time, if necessary, until you have what I need.”

“Which is?”

“How to find, or at least contact, a man named Nath Naidu.” Lee repeated the name to make sure he had it right. Bachman nodded. “At whatever time of day or night you complete the transaction, get out of the village. Head for the nature preserve. I will be on that side of the village and will find you.”

“Should I approach from that side?”

Bachman thought for a second. “Yes, that might be best. I will lead you around to that side as best I can, but I cannot be seen with you until you have what I need.”

“Got it,” Lee told him, and after Lee had safely stowed the packet of coins, they continued walking. But he suddenly stopped. When Bachman did as well, Lee asked, “What happens if this guy wants to wait and introduce me to Naidu?”

Bachman considered that. “What if you tell him that your business with him, it would be better if it were not connected to the village?”

“Perfect,” Lee agreed.

* * * *

For once, a plan worked the way it was supposed to. Lee was actually thinking, as he meandered casually out of his target store, about wanting to work with Bachman more often. But then he considered what the agent was going to do with the intel Lee had gathered, and was pretty sure that he didn’t want to know what Bachman’s next actions were going to be!

Lee had casually meandered into the village about half an hour after Bachman had led him around the village to the side closest to the nature preserve and then almost instantly melted into the jungle. Lee could do nothing but shake his head and smile at the man’s ability. SEALs he knew would occasionally talk about ‘ghosts’, but Lee had never met one. Until now. He continued on the way Bachman had indicated, and in another half an hour found himself in the target village. Bachman’s description was pretty accurate. It wasn’t quite a town, but also not a collection of rundown huts. As he scoped out the place he saw neat houses with neat gardens, a church – he wasn’t sure the denomination, and didn’t care. From the noise coming out of one building, Lee took it to be a school. All in all, a fairly pleasant place to live, for this area.

He easily found the store, and with money of his own that he carried, bought a few things to make it seem he was nothing more than a simple traveler. He took his time picking out what he wanted, and waited until he was the only person in the store before going to the counter where the man he wanted to question was standing. He returned Lee’s easy smile as he started tallying up the items Lee laid on the counter, and Lee drew from an inside pocket of his light jacket a wallet and paid for them. Then, as it was still only the two of them, thankfully, Lee pulled off his backpack and stowed the items inside. Casually, as if he was just making room in the pack, he laid Bachman’s packet on the counter and it just happened to fall open to show what was inside. Lee wasn’t obviously on edge, but he made sure Mr. Merdeka knew that he’d shown him the packet on purpose. He kept an eye out as he packed the items he’d paid for, and realized that Merdeka was keeping watch as well. The man was nervous, Lee could easily see, but at least he wasn’t freaking out. Once Lee had put the backpack on again, the packet still laying on the counter, Lee asked, still smiling and calm, if perhaps Merdeka knew where he might find Nath Naidu? Or, perhaps, how to get in touch with him.

Merdeka gave Lee a long look. Lee was nearly holding his breath as he tried to remain outwardly calm, praying that no one else came into the store at that moment. Lee felt like neither man moved for at least five minutes, but it could have been barely thirty seconds before Merdeka pulled out a pad of paper, ripped off one sheet, and wrote something on it. When Lee looked it was a different name, and an address that made no sense to him, but he was pretty sure that Bachman could figure it out. Lee sent the shopkeeper a smile as with one hand he tucked the paper into the hidden pocket where he’d replaced his wallet, and with the other hand pushed Bachman’s packet toward Merdeka. It was instantly grabbed and placed somewhere under the counter. Not another word was spoken, but smiles and nods were exchanged and Lee meandered out. Just in case, he continued to walk slowly, looking around the village but keeping watch for anyone or anything that might spell danger. When everything stayed quiet, and the few people he ran into did nothing more than return his smiles, he meandered back the way he’d come.

Bachman had told him by compass which direction to walk once he’d left the village, but he still very nearly jumped out of his skin when the man spoke softly from behind him. “That was fast.” Lee could have slugged him, and Bachman must had read the reaction on Lee’s face as he turned because he sent Lee the closest thing to a broad smile that Lee had ever seen from the man. It took Lee a few seconds to get his breathing back under control, but then he reached into his jacket and brought out the paper Merdeka had given him. “Thank you,” Bachman said sincerely after reading what it said, and tucked it away in a pocket of his own.

“You’re welcome. I think,” Lee added with a frown. “Please don’t sneak up on me again like that. I’m not sure my heart could take more of that.”

Bachman’s smile was mostly smirk. “I made sure you didn’t have a weapon in your hand when I did it.”

“Smart man,” Lee growled. But he finally also smiled. “Now what?”

“I saw a radio in your pack.” Bachman didn’t make it a question, and Lee’s smile broadened as he nodded.

“That way,” Bachman pointed, and Lee checked his compass. “You’ll reach a quiet coastline in about three miles.” He shrugged. “A bit of heavy cover, but this time of day most of the dangers should be asleep.” He shrugged again. “Or full from a good night’s hunting.”

“I’ll be careful, just the same,” Lee told him. He didn’t ask Bachman’s plans; he didn’t want to know. And the agent seemed to understand as well. A nod, a quick handshake, and the two men parted.

* * * *

Lee caught the expectant expression on Jamie’s face, sitting with his back to the starboard bulkhead in Seaview’s Observation Nose as Lee climbed out of FS1’s upper hatch after COB Sharkey picked him up. “Not even a scratch,” he told the CMO firmly. There was a chuckle behind him, and he turned to find Admiral Nelson on the opposite side of the hatch.

“Heard that one before,” Chip sniped, walking forward from the chart table.

Lee just shook his head. Nelson laughed again as there were several soft snickers from the Conn crew. “I’m more than happy, Jamie, to let you confirm that, but could I get a shower and food first?” Even Chip had to grin at that whine.

“By all means,” Will agreed.

“Welcome home,” Chip told him softly. Lee nodded, sent a glance to both Nelson and Will, and headed to his cabin.

But he wasn’t surprised, when he came out of his shower, to find Admiral Nelson waiting for him. “Do you need to report to Robert?” his boss asked.

Lee shrugged as he started dressing in a uniform. “Nothing to report,” he admitted. “I did what Bachman needed me to do, and then he went on to finish the assignment as I called for pickup.” He sent Nelson a look that the Admiral didn’t quite understand.

But Nelson wasn’t about to challenge it, either. “Works for me,” he told his captain. “Once you’ve had something to eat, I’ll meet you in the Conn. I have a small project I’d like to take care of on our way home.”

Lee almost laughed out loud – that was totally a Nelson thing to do. “Yes, sir,” he got out while struggling to control chuckles. Nelson smiled as well, and they both got back to business as usual.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

* Emergency Response Kit

** See “Written in Stone” by R. L. Keller

*** See “Jigsaw” by R. L. Keller