SSI OFFICES
Sandy Carmichael poked her blond head into Leopole’s cubicle. “Like some coffee, Frank?” She winked at him.
As Leopole liked to say, he was smarter than the average Marine. He took the hint and said, “Sure, I’d love some.”
“I have a special blend in my office.” She walked down the hall, waited for her colleague, and closed the door behind him. When she reached for the coffeepot, Leopole raised a hand. “No thanks. I changed my mind.” He grinned.
Carmichael leaned on her desk. “Frank, according to the admiral, State says that we have the point on this job, and we probably do. But I just don’t believe that we’re the only team. I mean, if I were running a job this important, I sure wouldn’t rely on one shot. I’d have at least one more team on tap, maybe two. That means another PMC, which I doubt, or active-duty guys.”
“SEALs,” he replied.
“You betcha.” The south was back in her mouth.
“Well, I agree with you, Sandy. But I don’t see any point in stewing about it. After all, if we miss the boat—so to speak—we’ll be irrelevant. At that point I have to believe that somebody will move in.”
“But in any case we’re short of maritime operators. So tell me about Pope. I only met him once or twice and I’ve never dealt with him since I took the operations job.”
Leopold inhaled, thought a moment, and began. “Single, never married far as I know. Late thirties. Apparently he considered becoming a priest back home in Jacksonville but he went for the SEALs instead.”
Carmichael smacked her forehead. “Pope! I can just imagine. You know, ‘Is Pope Catholic?’ I guess he takes some ribbing over that.”
“Not much,” Leopole laughed. “He’s one tough cookie, though it takes some people a while to figure that out. They see that baby face and shaved head and think he’s some kind of wimp. They finally get the point when they look up at him from the floor.”
“So why’d he get out?”
“His team had a mission in South America a few years ago. I don’t know the details, but it tanked pretty bad. I only heard him mention it once: six guys went in and Pope carried the other survivor out. He got an unpublished Silver Star, for whatever that’s worth. If I had to guess, I’d say he got out because he had survivor’s guilt. Maybe still does.”
Carmichael thought for a moment. “Well, it couldn’t be too bad if he’s still working in the operational world.”
“He’s a lot like Steve Lee. Really likes the work, especially the leadership aspects. He’s a very good rifleman and he’s into martial arts. Ninjutsu and some Israeli discipline.”
“Krav Maga?” she asked.
“Hell, I don’t know. Anyway, as you’d expect, Pope is a tremendous swimmer. His idea of a good way to start the day is to jump out of an airplane ten miles at sea and swim ashore before breakfast.”
Carmichael absorbed that information. Then she asked, “Is Pope available? We need him immediately.”
“I left a message on his machine and sent an e-mail. We should hear something soon.”
“So you think he’ll go?”
“I’d bet the ranch on it. And it’s not just the action, Sandy. Pope takes his religion seriously. He and Terry Keegan really got into a pretty loud philosophical argument a while back. You know Terry was molested by a priest and left the faith as a teenager?”
She said, “Yeah, I know.”
“Well, Vic says that’s no reason to write off the Church of Rome. Anyway, Vic sees a spiritual aspect to the war on terror: Christianity against Islam. It’s not the sort of thing we’d ever publicize, but I tell you what: I’ve never known anybody as motivated as he is.”