Viper Team Seven (The Viper Team Seven Series Book 1) (42 page)

*          *          *

Parks heard a
knock at his door and he went to answer it. He was at his home in D.C. The
National Security Advisor had allowed his entire team to take the afternoon off
since the President’s party was that evening. It was 1400, and only two hours
remained until he had to arrive at 8th and I with the President’s gift wrapped
and ready for the party at 1700.

Parks unlocked
the door and swung it open.

“Solomon,” he
said. “What on earth are you doing here? The party’s in a few hours.”

Solomon waved
away Parks’ comment. “I’ve got time. What are you doing?”

“I’m busy,
Solomon, very busy. I’d like to talk but I still have three billion things to
do.”

“Yeah well I’ll
come in, you don’t have to worry about me,” Solomon offered. He pushed past
Parks and stepped inside.

Parks shut the
door and turned around. “You mean to tell me you’re going to wear blue jeans
and a sweater to the President of the United States’ party?” he demanded. “I
thought maybe you’d at least dress as fancy as you did when you were serving
terrorists dinner.”

Solomon ignored
the statement and went into the dining room, Parks following close behind.

“What...is
this?” Solomon asked as he picked up a large case off the table. “Is it a
present?”

Parks snatched
the case from his hands. “Oh no, you’re not going to mess with this. If
anything happens to it, my head goes off. The Commandant will kick me out of
the Marine Corps if this thing gets harmed.”

Solomon was
perplexed. “You bought the President of the United States a case? Come on, KP,
I thought you could do better than that.”

Parks wasn’t
taking the bait. “You’re trying to make me tell you what’s in this case and I’m
not going to. You’ll have to wait and see.”

Solomon strolled
into the living room and spied a box. Without asking he pulled open the flaps
and yanked out the object inside.

“
No,
”
Parks exclaimed as he ran and grabbed at Solomon’s hand. “Don’t–”

The object was
flung from Solomon’s hand and it went flying through the air and landed on the
other side of the room. Parks winced and covered his face with his hands.

“
An M&M
machine,
” Solomon said, running and skidding on his knees toward the fallen
gift. He picked it up and looked it over.

Parks recovered
himself and also walked up. “Actually it’s an
M&M
dispenser,” he
corrected. “Is it broken?”

“Nope. Man, I
always wanted a machine like this. Where’d you get it?”

“I had a hard
time finding this kind of dispenser and when I did, all of them were made in China. Now you and I both know that I can’t give the President of the United States a present that was made in China. But if you look at that one, you’ll find it’s made
in the United States of America. Just the way things should be.”

“So how’d you
get this one?”

“I special
ordered it.”

Solomon popped
open the globe and took out the bag of chocolate-covered candies. “What a
present. Can I have one?”

Parks stared at
Solomon in utter shock. “What? Of course not. This isn’t for me it’s for the
President. If you’re wondering why I bought him this, I’ll tell you. He loves
M&Ms
,
and he’ll love this, believe me.”

“He’d better,”
Solomon declared as he rose to his feet. “My little brother Charlie had one of
these once and he’d never let me use it.”

“Charlie? How
old is he?”

“Four, five,
something like that,” Solomon explained as he set the globe back in the box. “My
parents had me early and him late. It’s a long story.”

“Yeah like with
your name. Anyway, I’ve got to get these gifts all situated and ready to go, then
I’ve gotta cram myself into my blue-whites and get all fancied up. I hope my
sword is still in good condition, last time I checked, it needed a good dusting.”

“Need a hand?”
Solomon asked as he sealed the box. “I’ve got two right here.”

“No I think I’ve
got it. Thanks just the same. Say, the rest of the guys are planning on coming
aren’t they?”

Solomon glanced
at the clock on the wall. “They’re coming.”

Parks went into
the dining room and leaned on the table. “You came over here for something
didn’t you? What is it?”

Solomon also
entered the dining room and began whispering as if he didn’t want someone else
to hear what he was saying. “I had a talk with the CIA Director on my way out of
the office this afternoon. He’s been heading up the interrogation. He says vun
Buvka won’t talk but the other guy will. His name’s Ghazi Siraj and he works
for vun Buvka, right? Apparently he says that his team
was
planning on
hitting San Antone but he persuaded them not to. He told the interrogators that
he wanted to be done with terror operations and that he was playing with the
idea of turning himself in.”

“Wait,” Parks asked,
“how’d he convince his guys not to attack and why’d he want to be done with
terrorism?”

Solomon lowered
his voice even more. “Supposedly he got cold feet and decided he didn’t want to
be on the suicide bomber list. I guess he persuaded his team not to try an attack
by telling them they’d get caught and they needed to hide out for a bit.”

“How’d vun Buvka
get mixed up in this?”

“Don’t know that
one yet. He’s not saying much about vun Buvka.”

Parks went into
deep thought and silence fell over the two men for a moment.

“If we’re going
to crack this code, then Siraj will be our helper, not vun Buvka,” Solomon
finally concluded. “Vun Buvka’s got some willpower, and he won’t squeal.”

“Maybe not, but
why waste our time with him when we’ve got Siraj? I’d sure like to talk to
Siraj, and find out some things.”

Solomon leaned
against a chair. “Like how they knew we were waiting for them? I’d like to know
that too. Someone is at work here but I’d sure like to figure out their office
number.”

Parks’ face went
ashen.

“What?” Solomon
pressed. “What’s wrong, KP?”

Parks retrieved
the
M&M
dispenser box and shoved it into a gift bag. “Solomon,” he
began, “when this stupid party’s over, I’m going to sit in my swivel chair and
think things out.”

“Well great, but
for now you’d better think about the time. It’s getting late and you need to
get fancy.”

Parks nodded his
head. “I suppose so. Hey, you want to drive with me to 8th and I?”

Solomon smiled.
“Sure thing. Thanks a lot. I’ve got to run some errands but I’ll be back in about
a half hour. Will you be ready by then?”

“Yup. See you
then.”

Monday, April 14
^th
– 1530 hours

Washington D.C.

Parks and
Solomon were about five minutes from Marine Barracks 8th and I. Butterflies were
already forming in Parks’ stomach and he was wishing he did not have to perform
this mission.

“That’s a cool
uniform, KP,” Solomon said, pointing at Parks’ blue-black uniform coat, white trousers,
Sam Browne belt, and white leather gloves. “Almost makes me wish I was a
Marine.”

Parks laughed.
“There’s more to being a Marine than just a uniform, Solomon. I found that out
real quick. When I was a kid I loved seeing my dad come home in his uniform. I
promised I’d do the same thing when I grew up, and so I did. But there is a lot
more to the Marine Corps than uniforms, medals, and ribbons.”

“Believe me, I
know. When I first got my CIA badge I thought I was so neat. When I was first
shot at, I realized I may be neat but I could also be killed very easily.”

“I guess that
the uniform and badge are just extra incentives,” Parks concluded. “Even ten
years into my career, I still am proud to wear this uniform. Retired Marines
say that’s the way it’ll always be, and I believe them. There’s a certain
measure of pride that the Marine Corps puts into a person, and I can’t explain
how.”

“Uh, turn off
here,” Solomon advised quietly.

Parks turned
sharply. “Thanks, I almost missed it I was talking so much.”

Parks looked
ahead and he could see the barracks, which was where he had been told to meet.
It was filled with uniformed Marines. Some with M14s, some with musical
instruments, and some with swords, like him.

“All right then, here’s the end of the line,” Parks told Solomon as he
found a parking place. “Let’s go face the music.”

*          *          *

“Sir, what are
you doing here?”

Parks spun
around and faced First Sergeant Bingham. “What are
you
doing here?” he
countered. “I thought you were still at Lejeune.”

Parks was inside
of the Marine Barracks and as ordered he was seeking the first sergeant who was
supposed to give him final instructions. But Parks had no idea that it was
going to be Bingham.

“I was transferred,
sir,” Bingham explained. “I’ve got a two-year assignment to 8th and I.”

“How interesting.
I’ve been here a few times lately doing drills, but I never saw you,” Parks admitted.
“How is everything?”

“Not too bad,
sir. How’re things going with you?”

“Fine.
Everything’s fine,” Parks informed him.

Parks and
Bingham talked for a few minutes and then Parks decided he’d better depart. The
first sergeant told him where to go and after saying goodbye, Parks headed out
of the barracks and to the parade field.

Just outside of
the large parade field, Parks spied the Commandant and went up to greet him. “Sir,
good to see you again,” Parks told the Commandant after a brisk salute.

“Same here,
Keith,” the general stated as he pulled off his glove and shook Parks’ hand.
“Those golden oak leaves are quite an accomplishment. You’re gaining on me,
Major.”

“I don’t know
about that, sir.”

“Anyway Keith, I
probably won’t see you until after the ceremony. I’ll be stuck sitting with the
First Family for the whole ordeal. I’ll try and get a word in when we head to
my house though.”

“Yes sir,
that’ll be fine, sir,” Parks agreed as he looked over at the parade field.

Just then, the
four-star Chief of Naval Operations sauntered up with his four-star assistant
admiral tagging at his heels. Parks saluted and almost fell over backwards when
he saw the amount of fat on the Chief of Naval Operations.

“Take it easy
boy,” the round admiral drawled. “You can’t impress me with all that saluting
stuff. I’ve been saluted by the top brass in the Navy and Marines for years; I
don’t get excited when a major does it. Hey listen, I need to talk to the
Commandant so scram.”

Without a word, Parks
spun around and went to the truck to see Solomon.

“You might want
to get a seat in the bleachers while there are good ones still available,”
Parks declared as he opened his truck and grabbed the gifts. “Things are liable
to fill up here real soon.”

“Yup, I will
KP,” Solomon promised as he brushed off his red sweater that was over his white
shirt and blue tie. “Are you pretty nervous?”

Due to the numerous rehearsals during the past weeks, Parks knew exactly
what to do, but that didn’t make him any less nervous. “Don’t ask Solomon,” he
answered as he locked the truck’s doors and handed his friend the keys. “Just
pretend like you don’t know I’m nervous and maybe you won’t even notice that I
am.”

*          *          *

“Ladies and
gentlemen please take your seats,” the narrator’s voice boomed over the loud speakers.
“The ceremony is about to begin.”

Moments later,
the Adjutant’s Call was played and the adjutant walked out onto the green
field. “Forward, march!” he shouted. And the parade began. The Ceremonial
Marchers, Silent Drill Platoon, the Marine Drum and Bugle Corps, and Parks as
the commander of troops, marched out into the center of the field and stood at
attention. Parks’ position was yet another one of the Commandant’s surprises.

“All please rise
for the President of the United States, and remain standing for the
National
Anthem
,” the narrator said.

“Pre-sent arms!”
Parks ordered, exuberantly enunciating each syllable.

Everyone in the
bleachers rose to their feet and the Marines on the field saluted in honor of
the President, as
Hail to the Chief
began playing. President Winnfield,
the First Family, and the Commandant came out of the Commandant’s House and
took up their position in the reviewing officer’s stand. The song ended and Parks
yelled, “Or-der arms!” The Marines resumed their position of attention.

“Please remain
standing for the marching in of the Colors and the
National Anthem
,” the
narrator asked.

The Color Guard
took the front and center position and Parks once again shouted, “Pre-sent
arms!” The Marines saluted and the
National Anthem
began playing.

After the
rendition finished, the narrator spoke again. “Ladies and gentlemen, please be
seated.” The guests took their seats and the Marines again stood at attention.
“Thank you all for coming and welcome to 8th and I, the oldest active post in
the United States Marine Corps. We’re here to celebrate the fifty-fifth
birthday of our Commander-in-Chief, and right now, the Marine Drum and Bugle
Corps is going to play a few of the President’s favorite numbers.”

Parks gave
another order to his troops. “Pa-rade rest!”

The field now
belonged to the band and the Drum Major began leading the musicians in the
classic patriotic song,
The Stars and Stripes Forever
. Next in the
repertoire was the
Military Service Song Medley
, beginning with
The
Army Goes Rolling Along
, then
Anchors Aweigh
,
Air Force Anthem
,
Semper Paratus
, and the best for last,
The Marines’ Hymn
. After
the medley, the musicians were led in the lively tunes of
Semper Fidelis
,
National Emblem
,
William Tell’s Overture
, and finally
Happy
Birthday
with the Marine Corps flare.

The band marched
back to its position and the field grew quiet. Then a drum roll struck up and
the narrator spoke into his microphone. “And now, for the world-famous Marine
Corps Mascot, the legendary Sergeant Chesty Puller XV!”

From the
barracks, the bulldog Chesty XV came out onto the parade field, walking at the
heels of his Marine handler. Chesty was as sharply dressed as his handler. His
uniform was fitted perfectly, his rows of medals were polished and jingled as
he marched down the field, and as always, he was panting.

The guests in
the bleachers roared with applause, and several of the people squealed with
delight over the world-famous Chesty. The handler led the sergeant to the side
of the Marines, ordered him to sit down, and the Marine Mascot obeyed instantly.

The guests
quieted and the narrator announced, “Ladies and gentlemen, may I draw your
attention to the United States Marines’ Silent Drill Platoon!”

The bleachers
erupted in applause once more as “The Marching Twenty-Four” took the center
position and began their unique drill of rifle spins and flips, the model of
Marine precision. Parks was still standing at parade rest so he couldn’t watch
but he could pick up bits and pieces of the show every now and then. What he
saw impressed him as much as it had the first time he could remember seeing the
Silent Drill Platoon when he was six or seven years old.

Several minutes
later, the platoon ended their famous drill and the guests, fascinated and
impressed, roared their approval.

The platoon
marched back to their position on the field and the crowd fell silent. The
narrator took advantage of the silence and announced, “At this time, each
service will present the President a memento.” Parks called the Marines to
attention.

The First Family
descended from the reviewing officer’s stand to the parade field and Parks once
again shouted, “Pre-sent arms!” The Marines saluted their Commander-in-Chief
and then returned to attention at Parks’ command.

“The first gift,”
the narrator began, “will be given to the President from the U.S. Army.”

The four-star
Army Chief of Staff strutted onto the field toting some kind of box and smiling
like he was the star of the ceremony. He reached the First Family and halted.
Parks saw the general hand the President the box and say something that
couldn’t be made out. Then the President opened the box and pulled out two
items.

“The U.S. Army
has given the President a World War I bayonet and ‘doughboy’ helmet,” the
narrator explained.

That’s nothing,
Parks thought.
That’s cool, but nothing compared to what the Marines have in
store.

The crowd
clapped dutifully and the President shook hands with the general.

“And now, the
U.S. Navy will present the President their service’s gift,” the narrator stated.

Parks saw the
overweight four-star Navy admiral waddle past him, and Parks secretly hoped the
admiral would trip and fall on his face. The man needed a humbling experience.
He was far too prideful and, quite frankly, too chunky to be a good leader and
example.

The admiral
stopped in front of the First Family and shoved a pre-wrapped box at President
Winnfield, who received the box and opened it.

“The President
has received a World War II battleship bell from the U.S. Navy,” the narrator
said.

More applause
was heard and the admiral shook the President’s hand before he turned and left
the field.

“Next, the U.S.
Air Force will present the President with their gift.”

The four-star Air
Force general approached the President and gave him a rather large gift bag.
President Winnfield reached into the bag and pulled an object out.

“The U.S. Air
Force has given the President an F-16 model,” the narrator explained.

The President
and general shook hands and more sparse clapping was heard.

A Marine gunnery
sergeant marched onto the field carrying the President’s gifts. He walked up to
Parks and handed him the presents, did an about-face, and left the parade
field.

Drum roll was
played and with extra vigor the narrator said, “And finally, the United States
Marine Corps will present the President with their gift.”

Parks took a
step toward the First Family. In the background he could hear Solomon cheering
loudly for him and he had to suppress a smile. Strangely now he was not nervous
but excited that the Marines would end the presentations with the best gift. He
had worked hard to get just the right gifts and he was positive that the
President would love them.

Parks reached
the President and halted. He looked right into President Winnfield’s eyes and
said, “Happy birthday, Mr. President sir, on behalf of the United States Marine
Corps, sir. May the Lord bless you in this year of life, sir, and in the years
to come.” Parks handed the President the small gift bag and watched in
anticipation.

President
Winnfield peeled back the papers and reached inside. He drew his hand back out,
carrying the
M&M
dispenser. Parks stood still and waited.

“The United
States Marine Corps has presented the President of the United States an
M&M
machine,” the narrator announced.

The President
smiled and asked Parks, “How’d you know?”

“I didn’t sir,”
Parks replied. “But that isn’t all, sir.” Parks gave the President the long
case and waited for the reaction that he knew would be coming.

Slowly the
President unlatched the latches and opened the case. When he saw what was
inside he almost fell backwards with excitement. His mouth opened to speak but
he didn’t have words to say.

“And a Marine
Corps traditional M1 Garand!” the narrator finished exuberantly.

The bleachers
roared their applause like never before and the band started playing
The
Marines’ Hymn
.

“I...man...oh
this is so impressive...thank you, Major,” the President managed to say. “Thank
you so much.”

Parks smothered
a smile of approval and simply responded, “Thank
you
sir. Happy birthday,
Mr. President sir.”

With that he
spun an about-face and started marching back to his position. Then and only then
did his mind register the beautiful lady that had been standing at the
President’s right side. She was absolutely beautiful. She stood about 5’9”, with
jet-black hair nearly mid-back length, and wonderful powder-blue eyes. She was
dressed in a magnificent dark-blue gown. He also remembered that she had smiled
at him, which made her even more beautiful than he could fathom. Why hadn’t he
smiled back? He knew he had been too nervous to pay attention but now he wished
he had.