Combat Alley (2007) (25 page)

Yarkov immediately spoke up. We demand political asylum in the United States of America. If we are returned to Russia, we will be executed.

I can't arrange that, Brannigan said, but you can certainly apply for the protection when the right moment arrives. He wanted to get information, not discuss the two men's welfare. What do you know about the killing of the population of a small Pashtun village?

We know nothing, Yarkov said. We fight only Tajik bandits.

What is your connection to the opium poppy harvest? Ensign Orlando Taylor inquired.

Tchaikurov fielded that one, saying, The crime boss in Khorugh wanted to hire us to make arrangements for purchases from the farmers on the Pranistay Steppes.

Cruiser started to speak, but was interrupted by the arrival of the RTO, Frank Gomez. He handed a message to the Skipper. This just in, sir.

Brannigan quickly read the neatly handwritten missive. Okay. It says here we are to do no debriefing of the Russians. They will be airlifted out of here to parts unknown for examination. He looked up at Miskoski and Burke. Take 'em back where you had 'em. Then Brannigan turned to Cruiser and Taylor. There're also orders here to bring the steppes completely under our control. We are to take our Pashtun allies and go after our Pashtun enemies. We're to give them a chance to change their minds.

Cruiser let out a low whistle. There're three hundred bad guys while between us, the Yousafzai Tribe, and the Janoon Tribe, we only have about two hundred total.

Brannigan shrugged. That's three-to-two odds against us. Not too bad, really.

What about reinforcements? Taylor asked.

Brannigan shook his head. The last sentence in this message reads 'No troops available to aid you.' That pretty much sums that up.

Did you expect anything else, sir? Cruiser asked.

One can always hope, Brannigan remarked.

Chapter 18

BALBOA NAVAL HOSPITAL

SAN DIEGO, CALIFORNIA

20 NOVEMBER

1400 HOURS

CHAD Murchison, thanks to determination and excellent physical conditioning, made a nice recovery from his two operations. He healed fast with plenty of pep and a good appetite, and was now officially classified as ambulatory on the ward. This meant he didn't have to use a bedpan anymore, though he had cheated on those instructions by waiting until night to sneak from his bed and hobble down to the end of the ward where the head was located. That morning they also gave him the good news that he would be allowed to leave for overnight liberty from the facility any time he wished.

Now, sitting in the small ward lounge, he had settled down to read a novel he had gotten off the library cart that was wheeled into the ward each day. The deliveries were made by a nice lady volunteer who worked in the hospital with a group of similar women dedicated to making the patients' stays as pleasant as possible. The book Chad had chosen was titled The Brothers Karamazov, by the Russian writer Fyodor Dostoyevsky. Chad had always liked Russian novels because of the spiritualism and complexities woven through the characters and the storyline.

His reading was interrupted when a hospital corpsman came down from the ward office and tapped him on the shoulder. Hey, Murchison, they just called to say you got a visitor waiting for you in the reception area.

Chad frowned, wondering who would be calling on him. It couldn't be any of his relatives since they were so dedicated to proper protocol and etiquette they would never arrive unannounced. Not even a long flight from the East Coast would be an excuse to drop in for an unexpected visit. He took the book back to his bed stand, then walked from the ward out to the hallway.

The reception area was on the other side of the building. It was a meeting place with vending machines and comfortable furniture that was designed as a pleasant locale to get away from the antiseptic qualities of hospital life. When Chad stepped through the door, he stopped short, his eyes wide open with surprise.

Penny Brubaker got to her feet and rushed to the SEAL, embracing him and kissing him hard on the lips. Oh, Chaddie! the beautiful honey-blond cried, stepping back and looking at him. I was so worried when I heard you had been wounded!

He stared at her in dumbfounded silence. When he requested hospitalization in San Diego, he had done so to be as far as possible from his hometown of Boston where former friends and acquaintances would come to visit him. The SEAL wanted no contact with his past. But, between the trauma of getting shot and the sedatives during medical treatment, he had completely forgotten that Penny had taken a home in Coronado just across the bay from San Diego. And she had her married cousins Harrington and Stephanie Gilwright living with her.

Are you alright? Penny asked. Were you hurt bad, Chaddie?

Chad recovered enough to speak. I'm, uh, getting along, y'know, fine.

Penny was more than just a little put off by his lack of enthusiasm at seeing her. She took his arm and led him over to a sofa by the window, helping him sit down. Then she positioned herself close to him, an arm around his shoulders. How long will you be in the hospital, darling?

I don't know when I'll be released back to duty.

Why didn't you write me? she asked with an accusatory tone in her voice. Then she answered her own question, saying, You weren't up to it, were you? Poor Chaddie!

Mmm, he mumbled under his breath.

Can you get permission to leave for overnight visits? she asked. We have plenty of room over at the beach house. We have a lovely view of the bay and a nice patio where you could sit and relax. She pecked him on the cheek. And of course I would be there to wait on you hand and foot.

I'll have to ask, Chad said. This was the very last thing he wanted. Most of the turmoil and unhappiness in his life, outside of Hell Week during BUD/S, had come from his relationship with Penelope Brubaker. They had been childhood sweethearts all through high school, but during his freshman year at Yale, she had thrown him over for a jock. He had been hurt badly by the rejection, and that was the principal reason for his joining the Navy. The fantastic accomplishment of earning the trident badge of the SEALs had wiped away the old hurt, and it was a brand-new, rebuilt, energized, dedicated, and badass Chad Murchison who had emerged from the challenges and ordeals of qualifying for one of the toughest branches of the armed forces.

Chad, Penny asked, are you on sedatives?

Not right now.

Then what's the matter? Are you going through a flashback or something? I've heard of that. I even had some bad episodes after I returned from my UN job in Afghanistan. Wasn't it a hoot for us to run into each other over there? I bet you were really surprised when I told you I had broken up with Cliff, huh?

Yeah, Chad replied. He also recalled how much he resented the fact the egotistical young woman had assumed he wanted to renew their romance.

Harrington and Stephie are looking forward to seeing you again, she said. Well, Steph is. Harrington is usually so shit-faced he doesn't really know what's going on. We've had a whole string of Mexican maids working for us. Harrington always manages to insult them or make them feel uneasy with his drinking and leering. What a lech! I think we're on our eighth or ninth by now. I lost count.

Mmm.

Chaddie, I'd like you to have dinner with us tomorrow night. Can you do that?

He started to turn her down, but knew he was only putting off the inevitable. Yeah. I can get out, I guess. I'll ask.

Can you spend the night?

I'm not well enough, Chad lied.

By all rights he was a young man, and sleeping with Penny would be pleasurable, but having sex with the girl would only put him deeper into a situation he wanted to get out of.

Well, you'll get a nice meal and we can spend some quality time together, she said, cuddling against him.

Chad stared out the window at the traffic on Pershing Drive.

.

FOULED ANCHOR TAVERN

CORONADO, CALIFORNIA

1930 HOURS

WHEN Brannigan's Brigands were at their home station at the Naval Amphibious Base in Coronado, they spent most of their liberties at their favorite watering hole, the Fouled Anchor Tavern. This establishment of revelry was owned by Salty Donovan, a leathery SEAL veteran who ran the place with his wife, Dixie. Salty served in the Navy from 1967 to 1997, going to such lovely places as Vietnam, Somalia, and the Gulf War. He came out of his career with a locker box full of decorations that included the Navy Cross. The stories of his exploits were still part of SEAL legend.

It was arguable whether Salty or Dixie was in charge of the tavern. They were both in their fifties and as an evening of boozing progressed, Dixie let Salty come out from behind the bar and sit with his old retired buddies and the young guys on active duty, to knock back endless rounds of brew. Though he drank his share of the pitchers and then some, Salty was most certainly not a tub of beer guts. Even after a long session of drinking, he would still be out early the next morning double-timing down Silver Strand Boulevard AKA State Highway 75 for a distance of ten miles. After the vigorous jog, Salty would arrive back home invigorated and ready to take on the world for the rest of the day.

Dixie, though not much for exercise, didn't smoke or drink except for an occasional glass of wine. She and Salty didn't have any kids, but they lavished whatever parental instincts they had on the youngsters who patronized the tavern. Sometimes, when a couple of young SEALs had a disagreement, Dixie would break up the fight all by herself with a motherly smile and a hard grip on the collars of the combatants until they calmed down. Since the lady did not allow grudges, the pair of scrappers was always made to shake hands and let bygones be bygones.

On that particular night, Chad had gone to the Fouled Anchor for the express purpose of seeing Salty and Dixie while maybe getting together with some acquaintances from other SEAL outfits. He walked into the tavern, going directly to the bar where Dixie was working with the barmaids serving out pitchers of beer to the customers. When she saw Chad walk in, she almost dropped the pitcher she had just filled. Chad Murchison! she yelled out.

Chad, delighted to see her, smiled widely. Hello, Dixie. I came by to see if you had run Salty off. If so, I'm ready to beginning courting you as only a lady should be.

Dixie laughed loudly. No, I ain't run him off.

I should be so lucky, came a gruff voice behind him.

Chad turned around to see the rugged features of Salty Donovan twisted into a tight grin. The young and old SEALs shook hands, and Salty gave Chad a quizzical look. You been wounded, boy?

Yeah. How'd you know?

You got the look, son, Salty said. You're not quite yourself yet.

It wasn't a grave injury, Chad said. I'll be returned to full duty very soon.

That's good, Salty said, but he thought the younger man looked a bit wan. Let's get you to a booth with a pitcher of beer.

Right, Dixie said, drawing the brew. This first one is on the house.

Yeah, Salty said with a wink, grabbing the pitcher and a couple of glasses. Then we'll charge you double after that.

Chad grinned as Salty led the way to a back booth in a corner. They slid into the seats across from each other. Salty did the honors, passing a full glass to his companion. So how's it been going with the Brigands? We heard about the KIAs.

Yeah, Chad said. Of the original platoon we've lost Milly Mills, Kevin Albee, and Adam Clifford. Then some other newer guys later on.

It's a shame, Salty said. O'course, it's us that put ourselves in harm's way, and that's something outsiders can't understand. He shrugged at the ignorance of candyasses. So what's been your latest type of missions?

We've been operating off that new amphibious assault ship, the Dan Daly, Chad said. They've set no limits on our time over there, so we've been hitting it full tilt. Mostly in Afghanistan. A lot of sneaking and peeking.

Yeah, Salty said. The same old game, huh?

They downed a few beers as Chad hit the high points of previous missions while leaving out classified facts such as illegal excursions across international borders. Dixie showed up with another pitcher, setting it down on the table. She scowled at Salty, saying, Get your ass up and lend a hand back of the bar. I'm short two of the girls tonight and I'm waiting tables myself now.

Salty winked at Chad. Duty calls!

Chad watched him and Dixie disappear into the crowd, then poured another beer, gazing out over the groups of SEALs, feeling very lonely for the Brigands. He could have gone out and found some acquaintances to share the evening with, but he was a little tired after the cab ride over from San Diego. It showed he still wasn't quite a hundred percent.