Under Siege (4 page)

“Easy, friend. Easy. I know you’re a big tough SEAL. The jury would love that. Your whole body is a lethal weapon. You’re a trained killer with much blood on your hands. Go ahead, hit me just once.”

Canzoneri spun on his heel and went back to the new, black Lexus. He knelt by the front tire and looked it over. A three-inch knife slid into his hand and he jammed it hard into the sidewall then slid it out followed by a gush of air. The knife folded and slid back into his pocket so quickly not even a long-lens camera could have seen it.

He stood and shook his head. “Well, look at that, Barney. You have developed a flat tire. Hope you didn’t have a tight schedule. So stay out of my way, little man. Maybe the next time I see you my little blade might find its way deep into your black heart.”

Barney nodded. “Figures, you’d have to have an outlet for your anger. I got off lucky. But then so did you. No good pictures, but my lawyer is going to celebrate when he hears the threats you made against my health and welfare.” He pulled a lapel button with a thin wire attached off his jacket. “Don’t worry, this microphone always gets the goods, even a whisper. That bit about your blade in my heart will be priceless.”

Canzoneri barked in fury and took a step toward the dealer. The small man shook his head, patting the bulge under his left arm.

“You’re fast, Canzoneri, but nothing is faster than a .38 slug. You want to play a game of chicken?”

Canzoneri stopped, shook his head, and turned back to where Phyllis stood. She hugged both arms around herself and he could see her shiver.

“Another day, Barney. Stay away, or you and I’ll have another day.”

The drug dealer laughed. “Oh, yeah, what a capper for my tape, Canzoneri. You did real good. Now I need to call
triple A and get this tire changed. You have a terrible day now, ya’ll hear?”

By the time they had walked the two blocks back to their condo, Canzoneri had cooled off. He couldn’t believe what he’d said in the heat of anger. It was a threat plain and simple to kill the drug dealer. Now he had to hope that the little man stayed in the best of health from now on and didn’t so much as scrape an arm or tear a fingernail. If he did, the cops would come storming down the pike to talk with one George Canzoneri, prime suspect with an attitude.

“What was that about a microphone?” Phyllis asked.

“He was just bluffing. Don’t worry about it. You mentioned a new movie you wanted to see. How about we catch the matinee?”

Lieutenant Commander Blake Murdock lay the letter written on official Navy stationery on the master chief’s desk in front of him and stabbed it with a roughened finger.

“Master Chief, just what the fuck does this mean?”

“I wondered when you’d be in for a talk. It came late yesterday, but I figured a good night’s sleep might help you decipher the codes built into the letter.” Master Chief MacKenzie looked up at the seasoned officer and smiled. “Yes, I figured you might have some trouble with this one. Oh, I have your new orders that came through channels this morning. I can’t say that Commander Masciareli is pleased.”

“Can the CNO do this? Can he just jerk me out of here and paste me back there in DC without even a persuasive phone call?”

“Lad, lad, lad. He’s the Chief of Naval Operations. Admiral Hagerson can do anything he damn well pleases. He’s your boss, lad.”

“Yeah, Mac, but DC? And he’s ripping me right out of the teams in a way that I can’t ever come back for field duty.”

“That part you might negotiate.”

“The promotion?”

“Aye. You’re not even eligible for three years yet.”

“But he could do it.”

“Anything he wants to, including making you a lowly ensign again.”

Murdock picked up the letter from the Chief of Naval Operations. He went right to the important part.

“‘You are hereby relieved of your duties as commanding officer of Third Platoon, SEAL Team Seven. You will report within seven calendar days to my office in the Pentagon to fill a newly created task-area of Coordinating Officer of Navy and Marine Corps Special Warfare Teams and Quick Strike Forces. Effective today, your permanent rank is full Commander. With the world situation in its present state, and the probability that it will worsen, your special talents are needed here. You have argued against coming into my office before. This is not the time to waffle or to argue. Phone me if you wish.”’

Murdock dropped the letter on the master chief’s desk and slumped in the visitor’s chair.

MacKenzie rubbed his jaw and twisted his mouth in what Murdock had come to know was his thinking mode. “Lad, has the admiral ever asked you to come with him before?”

“Yes.”

“But did he order you to come?”

“No. He left it open just enough so I could squeak out.”

“But not this time, lad. So, I’d say you’re out of here. You still have that one argument.”

“About getting the promotion delayed for a year or so. Then if it works out right, I can come back with the teams.”

“Right. Nobody over the rank of Lieutenant Commander gets into the field under fire. Long standing policy I’m sure our very own SEAL Admiral Kenner would make no exceptions for.”

“True. We’ve talked about it before. What time is it at the Pentagon?”

“It’s oh eight hundred here, so it’s eleven hundred in DC.”

“Call him. I want you on an extension so you can listen in. Damn it but things can change around here in the crashing of a millisecond. Call him.”

Murdock settled in and grabbed the master chief’s
phone as the grinning man went into the outer office and picked up a phone and dialed. The phone rang twice before a calmly efficient woman’s voice answered.

“This is the office of the Chief of Naval Operations. How may I help you?”

“Ma’am, this is Lieutenant Commander Blake Murdock.”

“Yes, the admiral said you would be calling. Can you hold for just a moment?”

Before Murdock could answer, there was a click then a short buzz, then the familiar, thin voice of Admiral Hagerson came on the wire.

“Well, Murdock. I expected your call fifteen minutes ago. I hope you’ve had a good talk with MacKenzie. Now, you have any questions I might answer?”

“Yes sir, Admiral. Is there any wiggle room this time? Any way I can slip out of the clutches of the Beltline?”

“Not unless you’ve got a better lawyer than I have. This is the first time I’ve actually cut orders on you Murdock. Lord knows I wanted to three or four times. So this is it. You’re roasted turkey and on my desk in seven days.”

“Yes, sir. After ten minutes of staring at your letter I’m beginning to realize that it’s going to happen. I have one request, nothing huge but vitally important to me.”

“I didn’t think I left any wiggle room.”

“You didn’t sir, this is in the form of a delay. No full commander can go out with the SEALs in field operations. I’m asking that you postpone my promotion for at least a year. Then it might work out that I could still serve in a platoon for some special mission we both agree on.”

The line was silent. Murdock frowned and cleared his throat.

“Yes, Murdock, I’m still here. You hit the one wiggle I hadn’t really considered. Every man I’ve offered an ahead-of-time promotion has jumped at it. Yes, I can see your thinking. How long have you been getting shot at with the teams. Murdock?”

“A little over six years.”

“How many wounds and bullet holes, broken bones, etcetera?”

“Eight is my magic number, I think. About average for our platoon, sir.”

Murdock scowled at the black phone as it went silent again.

“Murdock, you’ve done it again. I’ll keep your permanent rank as Lieutenant Commander. However, I’ve got so damn much brass plowing up the waters around my office here in the Pentagon that some of them won’t take a light commander seriously. So I’m giving you the temporary rank of Captain. You’ll wear the brass and the braid. Now clean up your affairs there and report to that hotel in your orders in four days. Understand you and Ardith just bought a condo.”

“That’s right, sir.”

“Don’t worry, she’ll wait for you. Met her once when she was with her father. That’s it. See you in a week.”

Murdock still had his phone to his ear when MacKenzie came back into his office. “He’s gone, lad. He hung up. You can put the receiver back in place.” Murdock hung up the handset.

“Your situation creates a problem for me. Who is going to take over Third Platoon, SEAL Team Seven?”

Murdock stood shaking his head gently, trying to get everything sorted out. “Third Platoon Seven? I figured you had that already figured out, Chief. Only one man for the job: Ed DeWitt. He has the experience getting shot at, and with these men no less. No one else will do. Sweet talk Masciareli into moving him, today.”

“Aye, Captain Murdock. Good choice. I’m on it.” The master chief laughed softly. “Yes sir, Captain. You’re going to have to get used to that title, at least for a while. Congratulations.”

Murdock nodded and strode out of the office, the letter
and his travel orders in his hands. This changed everything. The condo. Ardith had just come to San Diego for a new job. Ardith had been the only lady in his life for the past four years. How would she react? How long would this last with the admiral? Could the master chief get Ed DeWitt moved back to Third Platoon? Would Ed want to come? Most important of all, how would Ardith react to this surprise? He had no idea what her take on it would be. Maybe she’d quit and come with him? He hoped so. Maybe she’d get a job in Washington. Lots of places would hire her well up in the governmental pecking order. He didn’t know if she’d do that. Hell, the fact was he had no clue what she would do or say when he told her.

There was no doubt that he had to go. He was Navy, he obeyed the orders of his superior officers. There was only one man superior to the admiral, and that was the president. He slowed on his walk back to the shack office of Third Platoon, Seventh. It had become so routine, so familiar. He could walk these areas blindfolded. He slowed more and stared at everything as if seeing it for the first time.

When he came into the Third Platoon office, J.G. Gardner had the duty board down and was working on the training sched for the day.

“Hey, you sleep in?”

“Nope. Got shanghaighed.” He told Gardner his new orders, and that Ed DeWitt would probably take over the platoon.

“Sonofabitch. Just when everything is coming together, they rat you out on me. I needed to learn from you, Murdock.”

“You can learn it all from DeWitt. Let’s go tell the men. You’ve got the con here until my replacement comes, whoever the hell he is.”

In the Platoon Room the men were suiting up for the day’s training.

“Fall in, squad formation,” Gardner barked at the men.

“What the hell?” Jaybird asked.

“Change of plans, J.G.?” Lam asked.

“Hell yes, a big change of plans. Everyone here?” The junior grade lieutenant checked to see seven men in each line. “Okay, at ease, and listen up.”

“Fuck, this is just like the black shoe Navy,” Bradford said.

Murdock marched down the length of the line of men, did a perfect turn to the rear, marched, and went back to his center position in front of his men, his platoon.

“We’re in the chickenshit U.S. Navy, right?”

“Hooooohah!” fourteen men roared.

“We get told what to do every other day and we do it, right?”

“Hooooohah!”

“I got orders this morning. As of right now, Lieutenant Gardner has the con on the Third Platoon, Seventh.”

“No way!” Ching bellowed.

“Yes, way. A huge way. And we all follow our orders, right?”

“Hooooohah!”

“A week from today I report to the Pentagon, where I will fill a new slot called Coordinating Officer of Navy and Marine Corps Special Warfare Teams and Quick Strike Forces.”

A cheer went up from the men.

“About damn time somebody got you promoted,” somebody yelled.

“Yeah, get you out of the damn field where you’ve been taking too many rounds,” Neal bellowed. “Could get yourself absolutely dead that way … sir!”

“Damn. Now, Commander Masciareli will be taking orders from you,” Bradford yelped. A dozen voices cheered the idea.

“Nothing I could do. Admiral Hagerson has requested
that I come to his office before, but this time it was an order, all cut and certified and transmitted.”

“We still have our special hook-up with the CIA and Don Stroh?” Gardner asked.

“I’ll make sure of it. No reflection on you, Mr. Gardner, but I’ve requested that Ed DeWitt return to the Third Platoon as its CO. Can you live with that?”

“Be more than happy to have him here,” Gardner said.

“I’ve got a desk to clean out. I want my locker and my gear to remain intact and kept updated. I turned down a promotion to Commander, so I can still sneak back and take on missions with you guys.”

“Hoooohah!”

“Now, you guys are about due for another mission, so get sharp and train up to a fine point of excellence. Pour it on them, Gardner. Next, I’ve got to see a lady named Ardith and find out what she thinks about this coast-to-coast hop.”

Back in his broom closet—sized office, he called Ardith at work. She sounded surprised.

“You never call me here. What’s happened?”

“Lots. Take the day off, we’ve got to talk, right now. I’ll see you at the condo in a half hour.”

“I’ll be there. Not even a hint about the big secret?”

“Not a one. Oh, no worry about me physically and probably mentally. No sweat there, so we can deal with this. See you in about half an hour.”

Commander Masciareli came into the Quarter Deck as Murdock started to leave. The tall, thin boss of SEAL Team Seven was not smiling.

“Congratulations, Captain Murdock. You finally outrank me. Think the man would have had the courtesy to call me first. Not the way that Hagerson does things. You’ll find out.”

“Guess I will. First, I have a big problem, Commander. I have to break the news to Ardith Manchester. I better run or I’ll be late.”

To Murdock’s surprise, Commander Masciareli came
stiffly to attention and saluted. Murdock returned the salute and hurried out to his car.