Under Fire: The Admiral (9 page)

“We’re staying here,” she said. “You go back.
Do your job. When it’s clear, send someone for us. We’ll be safe.
Go.” She flipped her hand, shooing them away. No one moved. Gemma
drew her knees up and hugged them, looking like a one-woman sit-in.
Ben didn’t know about the rest of the men, but it was damn clear to
him she wasn’t going anywhere. Personally, he’d much rather be
rescued and spend the night in a bed with a belly full of food.
But,
hell.
He sat next to her, making it a two-person
sit-in.

The three men towered over them, staring.
Everything on them was camouflaged, blending with the jungle, from
the rifles attached to their chests, to wicked-looking knives
strapped on their legs, to body armor, pistols and faces.
Camouflaged swamp monsters that come and go silently. Could break a
neck, or slam a man to the ground before he even knew they were
there. Seeing these guys, he had no doubts all the stories about
Navy SEALs were true. They could handle anything. Anything, that
is, but the admiral survivor woman. From the way they looked at
Gemma they didn’t quite know what to do. Vegas made a hand signal
and they turned their backs, talking quietly. Ben leaned close to
Gemma and whispered, “What now?”

She shot him a look, then paused and said
louder than necessary, “The SEALs are going to go back and they’re
going to do their job. We are going to stay here.”

Hunter shot them a look over his shoulder.
The three continued their conversation for several more moments.
They turned and Vegas sighed heavily. “Ma’am, I don’t want to lose
this operation any more than you want us to lose it, but your
safety is—”

“Stop.” Gemma stomped on his words and rose.
“Nothing is more important right now than this operation. We’re
perfectly safe here.” Ben stood also. “As long as we are still and
quiet. Which, I promise we will be.” Her eyes darted to the tree
where the bullet ants lived. “And I’ll be careful to make the
shelter where we can’t be seen or heard.”

“Ma’am, you stay here and I have no way of
protecting you. I can’t leave a man here. If something happens to
you, it’s on me.”

“Then suggest something, Lieutenant.” Gemma
sighed and folded her arms.

Vegas rubbed the back of his neck and looked
side to side. “We don’t expect the loads to come in until the high
tide, between eleven thirty and twelve tonight. Right now, the
three men guarding the sub are sleeping off a drunk. If the drugs
come in on the midnight high tide those men will get up around ten
thirty to prepare.” He paused and scratched the stubble on his
chin. “You know you’ve got me between a rock and a hard place. I
report your presence, the operation is over. I don’t report and
something happens, my ass is grass. You come with us and get hurt,
my ass is in a wood chipper.”

“What have you decided to do with us,
Lieutenant?”

“
Ah, shit!
I don’t want to lose this.
You’ll come with us. We’ll have a better chance at protecting you
if something goes wrong. We’ll fix a hide where you can be
comfortable. That way I know you’re safe. One of us will stay here
with you and before dusk will bring you in.”

Gemma folded her arms and lowered her gaze,
examining the jungle floor while she appeared to be thinking it
over.

“Okay.” She raised her head. “But I want to
know the plan for when that boat and those drugs arrive.

The lieutenant looked over at Hunter and
nodded. “You tell her.” He focused on Ben. “You have to know that
you can’t repeat any of what’s being said here.
Nothing.”

“Yeah, I know. IRS audits, feed me to the
fish, or whatever it is you guys do.”

“They’ll have to come in on the high tide,”
Hunter started. “The tributary is too shallow for a loaded boat to
get to the sub. They don’t come in tonight midnight, it will be
noon high tide tomorrow. Our intel says it’ll be tonight, which is
best for us. We can stay hidden and our boats can get closer
without being seen. It’ll take them a few hours to transfer the
goods to the sub. Once loaded the only way the sub can leave is on
the high tide at noon. We have plenty of time for the good guys to
get ships and boats to block the river and to get boots on the
ground and shut the fucking operation down.”

“Same plan if it’s the next high tide?” Gemma
said.

“Yes,” the lieutenant and Hunter said in
unison.

“If it’s the next tide we’ll move you back
and settle you into a safe position. As long as you stay quiet and
do what we tell you, it should all be okay,” Vegas said. Hunter
looked from him to Gemma.

“That part is not negotiable. You do what we
tell you.”

Ben looked at Gemma who was doing her best to
hide her expression. Son-of-a-bitch she’d conned them slick as any
sideshow carney he’d ever seen. She got exactly what she wanted and
they thought it was their idea. The admiral had skills.

“I understand completely, Lieutenant,” she
said in a deferential tone. He clamped his teeth together to stop
the smile. He was beginning to understand her. That presence he
couldn’t quite put his finger on before. She was so used to giving
orders. She probably had to choke them back when they talked. The
memory of her little survivor pilot routine forced him to put his
head down and scrub a hand over his mouth to hide a smile. How
would the SEALs have reacted to that one? Or even all her troops,
or sailors, or whatever they were called.

“You have a problem with that, Doc?” Vegas
said.

“Huh?”

“I said, you have any problem doing what we
say?”

“Me? Nooo. As long as I don’t get slammed
down on the ground and suffocated again I’m good.” And what was he
supposed to say?
No, I want out of here and I want out of here
right now.
The admiral would have smashed him herself.

“What do we do now?” Ben said.

“
We
, as in you two, do
exactly
as you are instructed,” Vegas shot back. “No questions, no
ad-libbing. Do it the instant you are told. When this is over, I
don’t even want to see a scratch on either one of you.”

“Sounds good to me,” Ben said, remembering
Gemma,
the admiral
, said almost the same thing to him.

“We’re heading back before M&M and the
Suit think we’re chillin’ at a beachside bar.”

“First we need to establish how we got
together,” Gemma said slowly and carefully. Vegas gave her a
what do you have up your sleeve?
look.

“You mean get our story right,” Bambi said.
“For when we’re standing tall in front of some pencil pusher’s desk
getting our asses chewed.”

“I won’t let that happen,” Gemma said
fiercely.

“We can say
we
found
you
,” Ben
said. “We were on the beach, saw the boats and helicopters and
headed your way.” Everyone turned to look at him. “What? If you
guys could hear us walking, we’d certainly be able to hear the
commotion you’d make taking down drug dealers. We can just hang
back for a while and do a golly-gee-whiz we’re saved routine.”

“It would work,” Bambi said. “They don’t
question our word on how an op went down, and if the admiral backs
us up with that there won’t be a problem if we’re all on the same
page.”

“Admiral?” Vegas said.

Gemma narrowed her eyes to slits and looked
at Ben approvingly. “No falsifying an official report,” she said
slowly. “If it gets hairy, I take full responsibility. I’m the
senior officer here.”

“Ma’am, you have to know on a mission I’m not
under obligation to take orders from you,” Vegas said.

Gemma stepped close to Vegas. “I understand
and acknowledge your authority. You understand, I will not let you
take any heat for this.”

An awkward moment of silence passed. Vegas
and Hunter nodded, turned, and left as silently as they came,
absorbed by the wall of green.

Ben figured Bambi, by virtue of being low man
on the team, drew the short straw and had to stay back and babysit.
The SEAL held up a green can that looked like a hand grenade.
“Insect fog. No odor.” He pulled the pin and dropped the can. As
the mist enveloped them Bambi used a wicked-looking machete to
enlarge the tiny clearing, careful to avoid the ant tree. Gemma,
spread out a couple of the cloths, giving the three of them enough
space to sit and lay down. He and Bambi stretched out their legs
and lay down. Gemma sat cross-legged, stick in hand, eyes darting
to the edges of the cloth looking ready to do battle with any
creepy thing that dared set a claw, leg, or antenna on the
cloth.

They shared another delightful meal of jerky,
gourmet protein bars, coconut and vine water, and sucked down
protein gels Bambi provided. The SEAL went down the list of dos and
don’ts expected of them, also teaching them basic hand signals to
use in the no-talk zone.

“The LT’s risking a lot letting you stay
here,” he said around a mouthful of protein bar. “We want to be
real clear
,” he exaggerated the words. “
You
follow
the rules. Be aware this is the real thing.” He tipped his head in
Ben’s direction.

“Couldn’t get any more real for me,” Ben said
sarcastically.

“I know the admiral here knows her way around
firearms, but what about you, Doc, you know anything about
them?”

“I know you point them, pull the trigger, a
missile flies out of the end, tears through a body destroying
tissue, muscle, and disintegrating bones.”

Bambi gave him a
what the fuck is up with
you?
look. Ben went on. “Said body is then brought to me to be
restored to original condition.”

“You need to answer him,” Gemma said
quietly.

Ben took a drink, carefully placing the water
container beside him. “Because I’m not in your knuckle-bumping,
chest-pounding group doesn’t mean I’m an idiot.”

Bambi’s gaze flicked to Gemma and then back
to him. “Wasn’t implying you were,
sir
,” he said very
deliberately. “You’re an unknown. A civilian. Like I said, this is
not a drill. This is real-world. I have to get a feel for what you
can and can’t do. I’m real particular where my safety is involved.
My main goal out here is to go home safe.”

“Yeah,” Ben drawled. “I’ve heard about main
goals.”

“Sir.” The SEAL leaned his direction,
smiling. “I don’t give a flying fuck if your feelings are hurt.
Understand, you go asshole on me I will slit your throat in a
heartbeat and you will be officially listed as having died in that
crash.” He took a large bite of jerky and stared him down.

“Okay. I get it,” Ben said. “I know about
shotguns, rifles, and handguns. I’m from Texas.” He pushed himself
up to sit. “I started hunting when I was six. I’m good with a
knife. Cleaned and dressed everything I shot. I’m fucking brilliant
with the scalpel. I haven’t fired a gun in years. If push comes to
shove I suppose it’s like riding a bike, once you know how you
don’t forget.”

“Let’s hope there won’t be any pushing or
shoving and you won’t have to worry about handling a gun,” Bambi
said. “Admiral? You and that gun you got tucked up under there.”
Bambi jigged his thumb in the direction of her chest. “On good
speaking terms?”

She said nothing but nodded.

“Automatic or revolver and you have a
reload?”

“Revolver. Ruger .357 five-shot. One
reload.”

Bambi nodded appreciatively. Ben blurted,
“Jesus.” To his mind a .357 had to have a barrel a foot long.

“Don’t use it, don’t even pull it out unless
your lives are in danger. This is not negotiable. We’ll have you
set up on the bank where the sub is tethered. We’ll be nearby. Each
of us knows where the other is and your location. You won’t have a
clue where we are. If you have no other option, fire at close range
only. It not only will increase the odds of putting your target
down, but will greatly decrease the odds of hitting one of us.” He
scratched his ear and gave them a big smile. “Which is something
I’d very much appreciate.”

“I’ve got it,” Gemma said gravely. “I don’t
want to come to that either.”

“You hearing this, Doc?”

Ben stretched out on the tarp, hands clasped
behind his head, eyes close. He said nothing.

“If anything happens to the admiral—”

“I’ve got it,” he interrupted Bambi. “Use the
gun only in the case of imminent danger. Fire only at close range.
Anything else?”

“If this thing turns into a rumble in the
jungle, you two stay hidden until you know without a doubt it’s
safe to move. If the admiral gets in trouble, do not, I repeat do
not attempt to help her.”

That got Ben’s attention. He raised his head
and squinted at the SEAL. “Why not?”

“You’re not trained for this,” Gemma said.
“Statistics show people who don’t know what they’re doing generally
die in rescue attempts. I get into trouble, you run like hell the
other direction.”

Bambi nodded. “She’s right. You could even
hinder her chances of survival.”

“Okay.” He wondered if he could really do
that.

“You move south for a day and you set those
emergency beacons off.” Bambi took up instructions where he left
off.

“There a chance any of this could happen?”
Ben said.

“Hope for the best, prepare for the worst.”
Bambi grinned and reached for one of their packs.

“Then how about leaving us one of those guns
you’re carrying.” Ben sat up.

Bambi shook his head. “No can do, Doc. If we
get into a gunfight at the Ecuadorian O.K. sub corral, I’ll need
every weapon I have.”

Bambi dug in Ben’s pack and came out with the
emergency beacon. This”—he wore gloves with open fingertips and
hovered the bare tip of his index finger over a square key with a
red dot—“is what you push. Once is enough. You get a tone, a flash
here.” He ran a finger over the area above it. “Stay put. Stay out
of sight until you’ve confirmed any boat or plane is a friendly
rescue.” Ben watched him replace the beacon in the pack. Gemma not
trusting him enough to tell him about the locators didn’t sit well.
Not saying she was related to Sam and an admiral didn’t make him
feel good either.