Fallen Pride (Jesse McDermitt Series) (7 page)

“You’re kiddin’. Where do Marines go to blow off steam?”

“There’s still plenty of bars around, but most of the junior Marines aren’t even old enough to get in one.” Then to Deuce I said, “About a mile ahead, turn left on Western Boulevard.”

“Town’s sure changed a lot,” Rusty said.

“Still a Marine town, though,” I said. We pulled into the parking lot at the Fairfield and found a spot away from the main entrance. I’d reserved four suites and the front desk got us registered in quick time.

As we were turning to go to the elevator, I heard a familiar voice say, “I heard you were going to be in town, McDermitt.”

I turned toward the man who had spoken. He was a tall, black man, with broad shoulders and a shaved head. He was dressed in the Marine Corps Charlie uniform, khaki short sleeved shirt and olive green trousers. He wore a Colonel’s eagles on his lapels and a chest full of been there, done that ribbons. Tom Broderick, the Commanding Officer of Force Recon Company, Second Recon Battalion. Or he used to be, when he was a Captain.

“Damn, they’ll let anyone stay at this dive,” he said as he walked towards us smiling.

I took his outstretched hand. “Yeah, and I guess the Corps has lowered its standards for Field Grade Officers. How the hell are ya, Tom?”

He laughed and said, “Doing well, Jesse. Sergeant Major Latimore told me you’d be staying here. Just had to come into town and welcome you home.”

I turned to the others and said, “
Guys this is Tom Broderick. He was a wet behind the ears butter bar when we first met.” Then to Tom I said, “Tom, this big guy, believe it or not, is former Recon Sergeant, Rusty Thurman. We’re here for his daughter’s graduation from the Coast Guard Maritime Enforcement School. This is Dave Williams, our pilot. His son’s stationed here.”

Tom shook hands with both of them but kept glancing at Deuce. Finally, he stuck out his hand and asked, “You look familiar. Have we met?”

Before Deuce could answer, I said, “Yeah, you have. But he was probably in diapers at the time. This is Lieutenant Commander Russell Livingston, Junior, Navy SEAL. We call him Deuce.”

Tom looked at me, then at Deuce, “Staff Sergeant Russ Livingston’s kid?”

Deuce took his hand firmly and said, “Guilty as charged, Colonel.”

“Just Tom, Deuce. Your dad was one of the best Non-Coms I ever met. How’s he doing?”

“He died last fall, sir,” Deuce replied. “Murdered.”

“Damn sorry to hear that. Hope they caught the bastard.”

“We did,” Deuce said.

He looked seriously at Deuce for a second and then glanced at me. “Yeah, I just bet you did.” Then changing the subject he asked me, “How long you in town for?”

“Just for the night. Julie graduates in the morning, then we’re flying back to the Keys.”

“Aw hell, well at least let me treat you guys to supper.”

“That’d be great,” I said. “Can Tex join us?” Tex was what we used to call Mike Latimore, back in the day.

“If not, I’ll order him to. One of the perks of command. Logan’s at 2100?”

“Perfect.”

“We’ll see you then, nice meeting you gentlemen.” He turned and headed toward the exit as the elevator opened and two middle aged couples got off.

We boarded the elevator and went up to the third floor. We had the four suites at the north end of the hallway, two on either side and agreed to meet in my room at 2030. Logan’s Steakhouse was just around the corner and we’d walk over, from the hotel.

I was showered and ready in 20 minutes, so had a good half hour to kill. I used to have a lot of friends in 6th Marines, so I called the base operator and asked to be connected to Headquarters Battalion. I got a young female Lance Corporal on the phone and after dropping a half dozen names, she recognized one. Master Gunnery Sergeant Owen Tankersley. He was one of my range coaches, when I was with 2nd Recon. She told me to hold and after a minute, Tank’s voice came over the phone.

“Gunny McDermitt, as I live and breathe. How the hell are ya?”

“Hey Tank. Making my way in the First CivDiv, how’ve you been?”

We reminisced for a few minutes, then he asked, “So, why you calling me after what, nine years?”

“Eight, but who’s counting. I was wondering if you could give me some intel on a shooter. He’s the son of a buddy of mine and he’s having some trouble back home.”

“I will if I can. What’s his name?”

“Jared Williams,” I replied.

There was a few seconds of silence and I asked, “You still there, Tank?”

“Yeah, Jesse. I know about Williams. He was with the Walking Dead in Iraq. Alpha 1/9 was attached to us, after they spooled back up in late ’03. Four confirmed kills while he was with us and eight on his previous deployment. That Marine was an artist with the long gun. Anyway, we deployed to the sand box that spring. He and his spotter found a high value target up in Indian Country, north of Ashraf. He was given the green light to take the target out. According to him and his spotter
, the target’s eight year-old daughter stepped in front of him at the crucial second. A CIA spook debriefed them both and made some sort of accusation that he’d killed the girl on purpose. Williams came unhinged and nearly killed the spook with his fists. He got sent stateside riki tik, court martialed and sent home with a DD. Raw deal, but apparently the spook had connections in high places.”

“Thanks, Tank. Any idea where the spotter’s at today?”

“Arlington,” Tank replied. “Found not culpable in either the shooting or the assault on the spook. He was reassigned to Charlie 1/6 and KIA in Fallujah the following November. Earned a posthumous Silver Star.”

“Damn,” I said.

“Yeah, it was bad. Sure could have used you there, Gunny.”

“Thanks for the intel, Tank. Look, I’m in town until tomorrow. Going to the Coast Guard Maritime Enforcement school graduation in the morning, with some friends. One of them is Williams’s dad. He flew us up
so he could visit his other son, who’s stationed here. Think you can meet us for lunch tomorrow and talk to him about Jared?”

“Luke Williams?”

“Yeah, you know him?”

“He’s in Bravo, 1/6. Just picked up Corporal.”

“Can you bring him with you for lunch?”

“Absolutely, when and where?”

“You tell me. But no mess halls.”

He laughed and said, “1100 at Gourmet Grill, best cheeseburgers on base. Main Circle, go one block north to the corner of G Street. You can’t miss it. You’ll see a lot of brass. I’ll shake Williams loose for the day, so he can go with you to that Coastie grad.”

I thanked him again and hung up, just as I heard a knock on the door. It was Deuce, early as usual. I let him in and told him what I’d learned from Tank about Dave’s son.

“Thing like that could really haunt a guy,” Deuce said. “Especially when you toss in another twelve faces.”

“It affects different people in different ways,” I said pondering my own demons.

There was another knock on the door. It was Rusty and before I closed the door, Williams came out of his suite across the hall. “Hope you don’t mind, Jesse. I called Luke and he’s going to join us. He’s on duty tomorrow and I won’t have any other chance to see him.”

“The more the merrier. But, he’s coming with us in the morning. I pulled a few strings. Come on in for a minute, before we go down.”

Deuce and Rusty were sitting in the two chairs at the table, so Williams and I sat on the sofa. “The strings I pulled are with an old buddy that served with Jared in Iraq. He gave me the skinny on what happened over there. He’s meeting us for lunch tomorrow and he’ll give you the details if you want. Long story short, Jared killed a non-combatant by accident, was accused of doing it on purpose by a VIP and nearly killed the man with his bare hands. The reason he can’t get help from the VA is because he was dishonorably discharged.”

“Dishonorably discharged? But, the Corps was his life. He wanted to make a career of it.”

“Tank’ll have more information tomorrow,” I said. “Jared’s spotter was killed in action a few months later.”

“What’s that mean, a ‘non-combatant’?”

“His target was supposed to be a high value terrorist. I don’t know what he might have told you, but your son had 12 previous confirmed kills. Apparently, the target’s
eight year-old daughter stepped into his line of fire at the last second.”

Williams head dropped into his hands and his whole body shook. When he looked up, his eyes were red, “Jared killed a little girl?”

“The way Tank talked about it, I’m certain it was accidental,” I said. “Things like that happen in combat.” He was taking it pretty hard, harder than I would have figured. But, he was a civilian.

Williams looked at me, then to Deuce and Rusty. Finally, he looked back at me and in a halting voice he said, “I had three kids, Jesse. Jared’s the oldest and Luke is
three years younger. When Jared was five, we had a daughter. She was killed when she was eight years old. A drunk driver hit us and we went over a ravine. Jared was only thirteen. My wife and I were both out cold. Jared and Luke managed to get us out of the car. Mary drowned. Jared knew CPR and tried to revive her, but it was too late. He’s always blamed himself for her death.”

“Damn,” Rusty said. “I don’t know what to say.”

“It sure explains why he’s been having trouble,” Deuce added. “But, with that DD, the VA won’t touch him. The man needs help, though. Maybe we can get him in to see the right kind of shrink.”

“He can’t afford it,” Williams said. “I’d help, but I know he’s too proud to accept it.”

Rusty walked across the room and sat down on the sofa next to Williams. “Deuce said ‘we’ Dave. Not you. We’ll get him some help and he’ll accept it. We take care of our own.”

Williams excused himself and went to the head. When he came out, his head was up and his eyes were clear. “Thanks, guys. Let’s go eat some beef. I’m anxious for y’all to meet Luke.”

We walked out of the hotel lobby and across the parking lot to the restaurant. Williams spotted his son waiting by the door and trotted ahead, embracing the young man. When he released him and turned back to us, he was smiling broadly.

“Guys,
this is my son, Luke. Luke, these are the guys I told you about, Jesse, Deuce and Rusty.”

I stepped forward and took the hand he offered, “Pleased to meet you, Corporal.”

He shook hands with Rusty and Deuce then turned back to his dad and said, “I wanted to surprise you, but I guess you already found out.”

Williams looked puzzled. “Go ahead and surprise him, Luke. I’m the only one that knows.”

Now the younger Marine looked puzzled, but turned to his dad and said, “I got promoted to Corporal just yesterday.”

Rusty grinned and said, “Guess you know what that means, young Corporal.” Then to me he said, “You ready, Gunny?”

“Absolutely, Sergeant,” I said as I took the younger Williams by the arm and spun him between the two of us.

Luke suddenly realized what was happening. I’m sure his arms were already aching from the previous day. It’s Marine Corps tradition for senior Marines to ‘pin’ the stripes on junior Marines when they’re promoted. Rusty and I held Luke by both elbows with our left hands. I held my right hand up behind his back and showed Rusty two fingers. We each drew our fists back and brought them forward suddenly, stopping just short of the Marine’s shoulders. Then we drew them back again and ‘pinned’ his stripes with a solid punch to each shoulder.

Luke winced from the pain, but grinned and turned to each of us and exclaimed, “Oohrah!”

“Semper Fi, Corporal!” Rusty and I shouted together.

“Did I just witness a couple of civilian’s assault you, Marine?” came a voice behind us.

Luke instantly went ramrod straight, as Tom walked up between two parked cars, dressed in Alpha’s. His eyes went wide, seeing the silver eagles on his lapels and shoulders, denoting a Marine Colonel was talking to him. “Good evening, sir,” he said. “No sir, these men are friends. I was promoted yesterday, sir.”

“At ease, Corporal Williams,” Tom said. Then he turned to me and said, “Sorry I’m late Jesse. Something came up and I didn’t even have time to change.”

“We just got here ourselves, Tom,” I said. “Luke, this is Colonel Tom Broderick. Tom, meet the newest Corporal in your Battalion, Luke Williams.”

Tom smiled and extended his hand, “Congratulations, Marine.” Then he leaned in closer and said, “I’m the SOB that approved your promotion.”

“You’ve already met Rusty, Deuce, and Dave, this afternoon. Dave is Luke’s dad.”

Tom shook Williams’s hand again and said, “You raised a fine young Marine here, Dave.”

“Where’s Tex?” I asked.

“He’ll be here shortly. Same thing that held me up is holding him up. But, shit rolls downhill.”

We walked inside and the hostess escorted us to a corner table in the back large enough for fifteen people, but with only seven chairs, five against the wall and one at each end. Tom and I took the end seats and the others sat down against the wall, leaving the seat next to me empty. Not the best seating arrangement for comfort, but it afforded a clear view of the rest of the room and both exits. No doubt arranged by Tom.