Chapter 14

08:00 hours, Joint Base Lewis-McChord, Washington

“Gentlemen, thank you for coming,” Admiral May said to the men seated around the conference table at Joint Base Lewis-McChord Tactical Logistics Center’s planning room. Motioning to Fletcher and Towsley, he offered, “Hopefully, the Captains will agree with me when I suggest we dispense with military formalities this morning.”

“I agree, Brandon. And please, call me Egan, gentlemen,” Fletcher stated.

Captain Towsley nodded in agreement. “Vern, gentlemen.”

“Egan,” May said, pointing toward a man seated across the table from him, “I believe you know this man.”

“Simon Linn!” Egan said. “Long time, no see!” He recalled he had last seen Simon several years prior in the Persian Gulf port city of Manama. Simon, hobbled with a broken ankle, had evoked the wrath of three knife-wielding Arabs. Fletcher had come along in time to join the melee and save him from further injury. He glanced at the man’s left leg. “How’s your ankle, Marine?”

Simon smiled. “Never better. Good to see you again, Hurricane.”

“Gentlemen, let’s begin with introductions,” May said. “To my right is Captain Vern Towsley, former NCIS Terminator, now JAG Corps, Bremerton.”

Captain Towsley nodded.

“Next to Vern, Hurricane Fletcher, Navy Special Operations Command and captain of the U.S.S. Nalon Vet.”

Egan nodded.

“Next to Hurricane,” May continued, “are Army Sergeants Peter ‘Kimo’ Wu and Phillip ‘Dah-Vee’ De Vinsone, Special Warfare Command, Delta Force.”

The two men nodded.

“Next, Marine Master Sergeant Simon Linn, Special Warfare Command, MEU.” Simon smiled and nodded.

“Navy Petty Officer Andrew ‘Timmy’ Lawrence, Special Warfare Command, SEAL Team-ED.”

Andrew smiled and nodded.

“Next to Mr. Lawrence, Petty Officer Matthew ‘Cupid’ Valentine, SEAL Team-ED.”

Valentine nodded.

“And Navy Captain James ‘Raisin’ Rayzon, Special Warfare Command, team leader SEAL Team-ED.”

Captain Rayzon nodded.

“ED?” Fletcher asked.

“Executive Detachment,” Admiral May answered. “These men report directly to me. In matters regarding these men, I, in turn, report to President Ross. We affectionately refer to these men as E-Team.”

Egan had heard rumors of such a team - a team created to conduct missions so secret only a handful of high-ranking officers knew of them.

“Hurricane, you are aware the Special Warfare Command has been training teams of elite operators for counter-proliferation operations.”

Egan nodded. He now knew what was about to transpire. In the world of shadow warriors, each man seated at the table were the alpha dogs in the military food chain. Each man’s identity was a secret; only the President of the United States and a few select admirals and generals knew of them or their existence. Whatever May was about to reveal was severe in nature—highly classified—and it somehow included Hurricane Fletcher.

May turned back to the men assembled at the table. “The men you see here today represent a culmination of the best operators from their respective branches of service.” He smiled. “The crème de la crème, if you will.”

The smile left May’s face. “Gentlemen, I have a problem, and I need your help. The Carr’s sinking has presented President Ross with many problems, as you can well imagine. The Carr incident and the events leading up to her sinking have brought North and South Korea to a crisis: a war, gentlemen, that would quickly draw Japan, China, and the United States into the fray, leaving our friend Taiwan caught in the middle.”

May turned to a map hung on the wall behind him, depicting a section of the Yellow Sea. He pointed to pinpoint the location of the Carr. “The Carr returned the North Korean Prime Minister of Defense to North Korea. The Prime Minister and his family defected, with our help, to South Korea; he brought a wealth of military secrets. Unfortunately, his defection was ill-timed. Shortly after, a U.S. spy plane flying a routine mission over China and North Korea crashed into the Yellow Sea. The plane’s crew ejected, landed in North Korea, and were captured. The aircraft and crew, gentlemen, became the focus of an intense series of negotiations between the United States, North Korea, and South Korean governments.

“The North Koreans knew the value of the spy plane, known as Aurora,” May went on. “The Air Force denies the plane even exists. Needless to say, it’s a crucial piece of weaponry. The North Koreans proposed a trade—the aircraft and crew for the Prime Minister. After much deliberation and with the Prime Minister’s consent, it was agreed the North Koreans would trade Aurora for the Prime Minister. The Carr was dispatched to transport the Prime Minister to a rendezvous point in North Korean provincial waters and retrieve Aurora’s crew. The Carr was accompanied by a salvage vessel responsible for recovering Aurora.”

As Hurricane Fletcher listened, the ramifications of the events quickly sank in.

“The damage is done,” May said, his voice disconsolate. “The crew and plane have been returned. What remains is a U.S. Navy man-of-war lying in ninety feet of water at the bottom of the Yellow Sea. In the crew’s haste to abandon the Carr, sensitive data were left behind—data we badly need. It’s also imperative we locate and verify the whereabouts of the crewman who died when the Carr sank.”

“An easier task,” Egan commented, “if the Carr were any place other than in North Korean waters.”

“Detection by the North Koreans of a U.S. naval vessel in their waters would be viewed as an act of retaliation to the Carr sinking. The war we most fear would result.” May spoke directly to Egan, “Hurricane, I want you to deliver these men to the Jonathan Carr.”

****

Faydra Green spread out Paul Charma’s wallet’s contents on her desk, the sum total of his existence on planet Earth. Why was the man murdered? Why has the corpse disappeared, and why do I possess his service records and wallet—the only remaining trace of this man? It would be impossible to trace Paul Charma’s life in the Navy without page thirteen of his service records. What am I supposed to glean from any of this? The conclusion she drew was squat.

There was only a wallet, a few dollars, an ID card with Charma’s photo attached, and a pack of cigarettes. Fay studied the picture. Paul was a good-looking man, in her estimation. The white book of matches she found wedged inside the cigarette pack’s cellophane wrapper was plain. The word Trance, embossed in black, was the only label on the book. She assumed it was a business.

As Fay placed the items back in the envelope, her nose itched. When she scratched it, she detected the scent of L’Observe on her fingertips. She startled. She had been handling Paul’s personal effects before her itchiness. She lifted the envelope from her desk. Drawing it to her face, she inhaled deeply. The scent was gone. Perplexed, she punched the intercom button on her phone. Without waiting for the usual response, she asked, “Miss Pearce, were you able to access the records of Peter Wu and Philip De Vinsone?”

“I tried, ma’am,” was the expected reply.

It did not surprise her when Petty Officer Pearce reported De Vinsone’s and Wu’s records were classified. She had been denied access to them. Fay asked her to try accessing them through Admiral Wallace’s office. Forty-five minutes later, Pearce delivered the two records to Fay’s desk.

“How did you do that?”

“Magic, ma’am. Some guy named…” Pearce caught herself, “pardon me. I mean, some flag, ah… an admiral named May authorized it. Don’t know who he is.”

“Huh,” Fay remarked. She pondered the Admiral’s name for a moment. Unable to recall the person attached to the title, she said, “I don’t know who he is either. Oh well, we’ve got what we wanted. Good work, JP.” She motioned for Pearce to sit while she scanned the men’s records. Fay nodded. “Just as I thought. The duty history pages are missing from both records.”

“More operators, ma’am?”

“More secret guys, I am afraid.”

“What does it tell us?”

“It’s what it does not tell us that intrigues me,” Fay said as she rocked forward in her chair, placing her elbows on the desk in front of her.

Pearce frowned. The wheels were definitely turning. “Small things tell large stories?”

“Charlie Chan. Right?”

Pearce nodded.

“Think about it for a moment,” Fay offered. “Charma, Lawrence, Linn, De Vinsone, and Wu, all classified. No duty assignments. They all must know one another.”

Pearce thoughtfully nodded. “One way or another, each of these men is somehow linked to each of the others.”

“Right.” Fay thought for a moment. “Find out where Wu and De Vinsone are. I want to talk to them.”

Wu and De Vinsone were located. Interviews with the two men were scheduled for the following day at the nearby offices of the 13th Naval District.