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No … He wouldn't …

I look again at the sheets on the table. Maybe this information is in my background file. I rub my palms on my flight suit, the shiver long forgotten, replaced by a prickling sweat. They would probably know Ian had died. They might even know it was by drowning. But how could they possibly know I was there? Or that I'd nearly drowned? Maybe they assumed …

But Commander Kennan just asked about my greatest weakness, which they've obviously tied to the incident with my brother.

“Lieutenant?” he says.

I snap my head back to Commander Kennan. “I'm sorry, sir. Yes, sir. It was nine years ago. And yes, my brother was there.”

“Your brother, Ian, he died that day. Is that right?” Commander Kennan asks.

There can be only one reason they're so interested in this. I turn to Eric, who only holds my gaze for a short second before averting his eyes.

He has never averted his eyes. Ever.

“Is that right?” Commander Kennan repeats.

I stare, uncomprehendingly, as Eric looks steadfastly at his lap.
What did you tell them?

“Lieutenant?”

I turn to Commander Kennan, staring blankly.

“Sara, I'm sure this is difficult to talk about,” Animal says. “But we'd just like to hear it from you.”

He nods encouragingly and I return my attention to Commander Kennan. “I'm sorry, sir.”

I brace myself with a deep, steadying breath. “Nine years ago, Ian and I ran our kayaks on a day that we shouldn't have. The water was too high, too fast. I flipped and became pinned underwater.”

I could lie now. I could tell them the skirt release was inoperative or that I was jammed in such a way that I couldn't reach it. Only one person knows the truth.…

“Sir, I knew the procedures. I knew what to do. How to get out. But I panicked, and Ian had to come for me.”

Pressing my lips together, I take a long blink.

“He dove down, pulled my skirt release—something I knew how to do, should have done—and lifted me to the surface. He pulled me to safety before the water swept him away.”

I glance to the other faces in the room, their expressions neutral, before returning to Commander Kennan. “Ever since that day, I've worked on it. I've learned how to focus better. To shut out what's happening around me and wall off what I'm feeling inside so I can keep my head about me when it matters.”

He doesn't respond right away, looking studiously at me. Certainly, if there was a showstopper, this would be it. How could they possibly allow me to fly a mission if they thought I might freeze or crack under the pressure?

But they would never have known in the first place unless …

“And have you been successful?” Colonel Tyson asks pointedly.

Oh god. Did he tell them about that, too? About what happened during the search for Knight Rider?

“Lieutenant Denning,” Captain Plank interjects. “I watched you with my own eyes as you landed an aircraft on my deck in sea state seven in a cockpit completely consumed in smoke as your transmission was failing. You couldn't have done that had you not kept your head.”

What's this? Did Captain Plank just stick up for me?

“Sir?”

“In response to Colonel Tyson's question,” Captain Plank says, “I would answer yes, you
have
been successful.”

Colonel Tyson turns a scrutinizing gaze on me and it's some time before he speaks. “I would agree,” he says finally.

I search the faces at the table, recognizing another subtle shift in posture and countenance by each. Animal looks as well, ensuring no one else wishes to “get to know” me.

I sense they have just silently given him the go-ahead.

 

34

“Sara,” Animal says. “I initially said I was evaluating you for flying our missions, and I said that in the plural. We expect to use you many times in the future. But you're also meeting with us today because of intelligence pointing to an assassination plot by the Iraqi government, targeting former president James MacIntyre.”

Whoa. Whoa. Whoa.

“He's traveling to Kuwait with his wife and two of his sons to commemorate the allied victory in the first Gulf War.”

A former president? A former president of the United States?

Animal continues speaking, but I'm stuck here. This is so big. I suppose the SEALs and SAS members are used to this kind of thing, but me …

“We've learned through ASIS—”

“Forgive me, sir. ASIS?”

“Australian Secret Intelligence Service. The Aussie equivalent of the CIA.”

I shift my gaze to Colonel Tyson.

“Yes,” Animal says. “Their intelligence service discovered the plot, so the Australian government has offered their assistance. That's why we're conducting a joint mission.”

“Thank you, sir.”

“We've learned from ASIS that weapons and personnel to carry out this plan will arrive by sea via two surface units, which I will refer to as Surface Unit One and Surface Unit Two, and one submarine. The planners have been extremely thorough, because they've devised two separate transfers, each as backup for the other.”

Two surface units and a submarine. Our last flight … This is exactly what we practiced on our last flight.

“It's an educated guess at this point, but we think Surface Unit One will off-load at the Port of Shuwaikh in southern Kuwait. The intel folks believe she's a civilian ship, a luxury yacht. They don't have a positive ID yet, so depending on when this whole thing goes down, we may or may not have surveillance photos ahead of time. Bottom line, you may be flying toward your target without knowing what it looks like. The Shadow Hunters will direct you in, but you may have to assess the drop zone almost instantaneously. The plan is to drop a team on their deck before they enter port.”

This is why Eric is here. Now it makes sense why he's had the call for every SEAL training flight.

“The second transfer involves a submarine and Surface Unit Two,” he says. “The submarine is from the Iraqi fleet. We believe it will transfer the personnel and weapons it carries to Surface Unit Two—once again, a ship from the civilian sector. The plan is to stop the submarine before it makes the transfer to Surface Unit Two.”

And that must be why Commander Eichorn is here. Anti-submarine warfare for the strike group falls under his purview.

“The sub is a Russian-built Kilo class,” Commander Eichorn says. His deep bass voice resonates in the low-ceilinged conference room. “What can you tell me about the Kilo class?”

I recall the facts, ones learned by rote at the Naval Academy, but rendered fresh by Stuart Grady, who stood in front of the
Lake Champlain
wardroom and launched into a Russian-submarine-fleet rap that ended with the profile for the Kilo class.

“Sir, the Kilo class is approximately two hundred and thirty feet in length, uses diesel-electric propulsion, has a max depth of three hundred meters, a surface speed from ten to twelve knots—”

“Okay,” he says, holding up his hand. “Just checking.” I notice Captain Magruder and Captain Plank nodding their heads.

Just checking what? That question had an awfully patronizing feel. I imagine the thoughts moving through Commander Eichorn's head.
She might be able to fly, but surely she doesn't know anything else.…
That's what it sounded like.

But I can't dwell here because Animal is speaking again. “… the Shadow Hunters will call you into the sub's position.”

I turn my head to Eric and hold there. He raises his eyes, finally, to meet mine.

“Yeah, Lightning will coordinate and oversee the whole operation from his platform,” Animal says, following the movement of my head.

Lightning?

“Although it would be nice to have him back on the ground with us where he belongs,” Mike says, looking knowingly at Eric.

“Hey, our asses have been saved on more than one occasion because he's been in the air,” Animal says.

“Yeah, yeah,” Mike says. “But I've lost count of the number of times he's saved us on the ground. We need him back, that's all I'm saying.” He glances once at Commander Kennan before returning to Animal. “And yes, I know I sound like a broken record on this, but it's true.”

I look to Eric again, who meets my eyes, and my focus stays here. He doesn't waver as he watches the realization dawn on my face.

I finally drag my gaze back to Animal. “Sir, is Eric like … like you?”

“He wishes!” Animal laughs, and I notice the first hint of a smile from Commander Kennan.

Eric fidgets in his seat, not sharing Animal's enthusiasm.

“Sir, you wore your wings when I flew with you, but you were really…”

“A SEAL. Like him.”

I turn my head slowly back to Eric.
Why didn't you tell me?

“There are only a few who carry dual insignia like this,” Animal says. “Remember, this whole program is still in the experimental stage. But yeah, he evaluates just like I do in addition to all the in-air coordination he does via the H-60.”

Coordinating and evaluating. Evaluating …
“How's the evaluation coming?”
Jonas asked.
“I don't recall date nights being included in the metrics.”

This whole time … was he…?

“You're not what I expected.”
That's what he said on the
Lake Champlain.
He knew I was his assignment.

Oh my god.

“Sir, speaking of evaluation,” Jonas says, directing his comment to Animal. “I think it's clear to all of us here, especially after meeting with her today, that Lieutenant Denning has exceeded our expectations in terms of qualifications and gained our confidence to carry out this mission. So I'm having trouble with the fact that Lieutenant Marxen has argued so vehemently against her selection for this role.”

What?

I turn to Eric. This can't be true.

“Lieutenant Marxen, I know this meeting has convinced several of us who have been on the fence,” Admiral Carlson says. “Has your decision changed based on what you've learned today?”

Our eyes lock and I wait for him to come forward with his support as he has always come forward.

But did he really argue
against
my selection?

Admiral Carlson just verified what Jonas stated, though.

He knew about Ian. He knew I panicked. He knew about my trouble during the search for Knight Rider. And he obviously shared his reservations with everyone at the table.

Which means I really
was
being evaluated by him. The entire time. And he never told me.

And he never told me he was a SEAL.

What else hasn't he told me?

And what about us? What was that? Was it real? My throat burns as my eyes search his in vain, searching for the man I thought I knew. The one I thought I could trust.

And Jonas? He's been painted as the bad guy.
“He's not to be trusted,”
Eric had said.

“Eric?” Admiral Carlson asks again. “Has your decision changed?”

Eric looks at me directly when he answers. “No.”

I recoil as if he's slapped me in the face.

“She's not the one for this mission,” he says.

My insides turn to glue, my head moving side to side in disbelief at his betrayal.

She's not the one for this mission.…
How could he stoop to this? Like
tentative
flying. Is that what this is? It's so wrong. And it's so not him. But how do I know it's not him? Do I really know him at all?

I swallow hard.
Keep it together, Sara.
Not a soul at the table realizes I'm breaking apart inside.

“Eric, I'm afraid I'm going to have to pull rank on this one,” Admiral Carlson says. “She's our man … I mean, person.”

I turn my head to Admiral Carlson, who looks slightly embarrassed.

And then my eyes move to the person who really did champion my selection. Jonas gives me a small, apologetic smile. But then something occurs to me.

“Excuse me, sir?” I say, turning to Animal. My voice is shaky and I have to pause, taking a full breath to steady myself. “What about the second pilot dilemma? I'm not allowed to sign for the aircraft.”

“
That
was never an issue,” he says, confirming my earlier suspicions. “I'll fly with you when it's time. These missions are need-to-know only, so until you're an aircraft commander, I'll sign for the aircraft. But it should only be a couple of months until you have that designation, so I don't expect we'll have to do this but once.”

“Sir, what's the time frame for this mission?” I ask, my voice still not as stable as I would like.

“Still trying to nail that down. It could be weeks.”

“How will I know?”

“You'll need to keep this for starters, just as all of us here at the table will,” he says, passing a cell phone down the table for me. Sleek and silver, it looks more like a credit card holder than a phone. “And this is a twenty-four/seven thing. We have to be able to reach you no matter where you are. The text will read all ones when it's time. Obviously, if we're at sea, it won't be an issue. But if not, wherever you are when you get the message, you need to hightail it to the
KC
.”

“And you'll be there?”

“I'll probably be delivered by yours truly here,” he says, motioning to Eric. “We'll brief and fly from the
Kansas City
.”

Yours truly. Yours truly
. Nothing true about him. My eyes squeeze shut for just a moment, my hands gripping the sides of my seat.

“But, couldn't you just fly it then, sir?” I ask, returning my gaze to him. “You could do all of these missions.”