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