SEAL Team 666: A Novel (16 page)

Walker accepted the handshake. “Uh, sure. Thanks.”

The clerk walked out.

Walker got up and went into the main room of the Pit. Billings was there, as was someone new. As he came into the room, they all turned.

“Walker, this is your new team member. Chief Petty Officer Ali Jabouri, meet Petty Officer First Class Jack Walker.”

They shook hands. The new guy was of Arab descent. Although he wore a grim face, he had smiling eyes. He was shorter than the rest of them but didn’t act like it bothered him.

“Call me Yaya,” he said, with an accent that sounded more like Philly than Saudi Arabia.

“We’ve had Chief Jabouri’s file for some time now. While myself and the members of the Sissy share our most sincere condolences for Chief Fratolilio, I’m hoping that you’ll welcome Chief Jabouri.”

Walker caught her looking at him appraisingly as she said it. He also saw the other team members offering their own tight smiles to her statement. Her subtext was clear. They were gears in a supernatural defense machine. One gear broke and here’s another. Plug it in and get instant continuity of operations.

“Now that we’ve had introductions, I’ve got to be on my way.” She pointed at Holmes. “Can I see you for a moment?”

Holmes nodded but spoke to the team first. “No one goes into Fratty’s room until I get a chance to clear it.”

Everyone stared back at him. The thought had never crossed their minds. Until Fratty’s belongings were cleared, the room was essentially the man’s shrine. Not a single one dared to enter, much less remove anything.

Holmes turned to follow Billings into the conference room and closed the door behind him.

Everyone stared at each other for a few moments.

Yaya looked at Walker. “Is it always like this?”

Walker shrugged. “Don’t ask me. I’ve only been here for two days.”

“Three,” Laws corrected, holding up three fingers. “Or it could be four,” he said, examining his own fingers with critical eyes. “Going back and forth across the dateline confuses me.”

“And you’ve already had one mission,” Yaya noted.

“Two,” Laws corrected again, holding up two fingers this time.

“Yeah. Two missions. I just now signed all my admin forms.”

Yaya raised his eyebrows. “I filled mine out…” He let it fade, then said in a much lower voice, “Last night.” He shook his head. “Listen guys. I’m sorry. I just don’t know what to say.”

Ruiz went to the bar and grabbed beers. When he returned he passed them around. He opened his and held it up. “To the FNG.”

They all opened their beers and drank slowly and deeply.

Laws held up his left hand and spread his fingers Spock style. “Live long and prosper.”

Ruiz snorted in his beer and Walker couldn’t help but laugh. They’d turned a somber moment on its head and were soon lounging around the leather couches in the middle of the Pit, exchanging résumés. Common in every military unit since Hannibal’s poop scoopers had crossed the Alps behind the elephants, military members had shorthand for telling where they’d come from, where’d they’d been, the sorts of missions they’d done, and what their skills were.

Yaya had been born and raised in Philadelphia. He was a red, white, and blue American who’d joined the Navy right after 9/11. A modestly devout Muslim, the behavior of the few who’d flown jets into the buildings and a Pennsylvania pasture had so incensed and insulted him that he wanted to demonstrate that theirs was the exception rather than the rule. As it turned out, a belief in the spiritual is at the root of Islam and it was known that certain caliphs and mullahs were deeply involved with the supernatural. In fact, Yaya had let this be known during his screening interview, which he believed was one of the reasons that he was selected for Triple Six.

He’d been a member of SEAL Team 4 since Class 258. As an East Coast SEAL out of Little Creek, Virginia, he didn’t know many SEALs from the West Coast. But he’d heard of Holmes. Although Team 4’s mission was focused on Central and South America, Yaya had spent the last four years on repeated deployments to the Middle East. His most recent mission was as part of a task force to take down an old oil platform off the coast of Yemen that had become home to a force of AQAP (Al Qaida on the Arab Peninsula) pirates threatening ships entering the Gulf of Aden.

Then the others introduced themselves to him. When they got to Walker, his story was much shorter. He told the story about how he was jerked out of training, which earned him a look from Yaya that was both shocked and impressed.

“I’m definitely not all that,” Walker said. “Right now I’m specializing in not doing what I’m told.”

Ruiz nodded. “You’re good at doing what you’re not told to do.”

“Ain’t no one does the kickin’ chicken better,” Laws laughed.

Ruiz held out his fist and kissed knuckles with Laws. “Amen to that.”

When Yaya gave a blank look, both Ruiz and Laws glanced at Walker for permission.

Walker shrugged. If they wanted to talk about it, then more power to them. He wouldn’t do it, though. It just felt too weird.

Ruiz and Laws jumped right in. They sat on the edge of their respective couches talking animatedly with their hands, diagramming the mission to Chinatown. When they got to the part where Walker fell to the ground and started thrashing, Ruiz demonstrated on the couch, by rolling on his back and shaking his arms and legs spastically. Soon, they were all laughing uproariously, even Walker, who found it funny in a self-conscious he-couldn’t-believe-it-happened-to-him sort of way.

Their laughter stopped when the door to the conference room opened and Holmes stepped out. He called Laws over and they spoke for a moment. While they conversed, Billings left with her briefcase in hand. Soon Laws returned to them. Holmes walked past, hardly acknowledging them. He went into Fratty’s suite and slammed the door.

“What was that all about?” Ruiz asked.

Laws frowned and shook his head. “Okay, here’s the scoop. SPG pulled some data off the hard drive. We have a mission brief tomorrow morning at 0900. Tonight’s the wake for Fratty at McP’s. We all need to go there. Until then you’re on your own.”

He turned to go, then paused. “Oh yeah. I’m in charge for the immediate future. Skipper has to stand before a board. Once he’s cleared, he’ll be back in command.” Then he headed to his own suite.

Walker sat back. “That was an ‘oh yeah’ comment?”

“He didn’t want to put any weight on it,” Ruiz said. “Happens every time. The brass conducts a board to ascertain the events surrounding a death of a SEAL. But in this case, it’s two within one month. First Lieutenant Chong, who Walker replaced, then Fratty.”

“They call it due diligence,” Yaya added.

“They going to ask us questions?” Walker asked.

“Probably.” Ruiz shrugged. “Just answer truthfully. We all saw what happened.”

“What did happen?” Yaya asked after a few moments of silence.

Walker got up to leave. With all the time he had, he could give Jen a call and see if she was available before he was due at the wake. He left Ruiz talking about the HAHO jump into the mission and the beast aboard the ship.

29

CORONADO ISLAND. MIDNIGHT.

Although buzzed from Fratty’s wake, they weren’t ready to call it quits. Walker and Laws liberated a cooler from a passed-out fisherman and headed down the beach. The lights of San Diego glowed in the distance like an earthbound galaxy. A barge bleeped its horn as it cruised forlornly down the middle of the empty harbor. They found a place to park, grabbed beers, and went down to the water.

McP’s had been closed for the wake and filled with SEALs old and new. Pictures and plaques adorned the walls. Team names and patches were everywhere. This was as much a museum to what it was to be part of a team as it was a bar. They drank beers and sang songs. They shared what stories they could about Fratty.

Then after a time, Holmes got serious. He pulled Walker aside, grabbed two beers, and took him down the beach a ways. They found a spot where only the surf and the stars could overhear. After Holmes opened the beers and passed one to Walker, he began.

“You might as well know that I knew your brother, Brian.”

Walker stopped drinking and started to ask a question, but then paused, seeing the serious look in Holmes’s eyes.

“In fact, not only did I know him, but I led the mission where he was killed.”

Walker lowered his beer slowly. “Like Fratty? And Chong?”

Holmes shook his head. “Not like them at all. They died performing their mission.”

The waves at night were a dark gray against an abysmal blue sky. Way out to sea, lights blinked from passing ships. The world seemed so large at moments like this, so improbably large. “So then how’d my brother die?”

“By disobeying orders.”

Walker glared at Holmes. The beer had become acid in his stomach. “So it was his fault? That’s convenient.”

Holmes took a slug of his beer and stared out to sea. “Your brother made a choice, much like you did on the boat. I told him to stay put, but he didn’t do it.”

“What happened?”

“We were on the road, chasing down a Taliban operative, and your brother set off an IED.”

“So where does the disobeying orders come in?”

“A group of kids was playing in the middle of the road. He was worried about them. We were in a natural ambush site. First he called to them, but they wouldn’t come, so he went to them.” Holmes took a final slug of his beer. “That’s when the IED went off.”

“Did he feel anything?”

“I doubt it. It was a very big bomb.”

Walker didn’t know what to say. He imagined his brother first trying to help the kids, then getting blown to bits. He took a slow sip of the acid in the bottle. Finally he asked, “Why didn’t you tell me sooner?”

“It wasn’t the right time.”

“How come I feel like this is a lesson?”

Holmes turned to him. “Because everyone’s death should mean something. I’ve seen too many SEALs die, too many of our soldiers and sailors, too many bad guys. I’ve breathed death for so long I don’t know what life tastes like.” He stared hard at Walker for a moment, then turned and strode away. Walker stood there for a good ten minutes not knowing what to think or say.

Laws arrived bringing several beers, clinking together in his hands. He placed them in the sand, then retrieved one, opened it, and slung it back. “So he finally told you.”

Walker nodded. “You knew?”

“Yeah, I knew.”

“You didn’t say anything.”

“It was his to tell you.” He took another drink. “I would have told you eventually if he hadn’t gotten around to it.”

“I used to think my brother’s death meant something,” Walker said.

“Sometimes the death doesn’t mean anything except in context for the living. I think your brother’s death can help you understand the man. I didn’t know him, but I know people who did and they all say he was a great SEAL and a terrific guy. He was a shepherd without a flock. I think he punished himself for not being able to take care of you and sought out avenues to take care of others.”

“So you think he felt bad about leaving me behind?”

“Of course he did. Anyone would. But it sounds like he made the right decision. He would have been a terrible father figure when he was younger.”

“According to Holmes, my brother died saving children.”

Laws grinned as he drained another beer. He went over to the cooler, grabbed two more, brought them back, and passed one to Walker. “Listen, I’ve been around. I’ve seen death on four continents. There are three kinds of death in this world: those that we see coming and gladly embrace if it promotes the mission and/or saves lives; those we don’t see coming but know that our actions are inventing the possibility; and finally, those that are an absolute surprise. The measure of a man is in how he travels the path towards the inevitability of any one of those deaths. Because death
is
certain. By the very nature of our mission, we place ourselves in the second category. Your brother did just that. Sure, he disobeyed an order, but most of us would have done the same. Children of any race, creed, or religion are the progeny of us all.”

“Do you think that a part of him felt like he was doing something for me? Not for the
me I am now
, but for the
me I was when I went into the orphanage
?”

“Absolutely. He saw you in those kids. But that doesn’t make it your fault. You can’t control how someone else will act or deal with their own internal demons.”

“I know. It’s just that—”

“What?”

“I wish that I’d been able to tell him that I was never angry at him. That I loved him … that in my eyes, he was a great brother.”

Laws shook his head. “Shit, man. Don’t you think he knew it?”

“No. How could he?”

“Then all you can do is honor his actions and his name. Pay it back. Pay it forward. Remember that he saved those children and someday do the same.”

“That’s all I can do, isn’t it?”

“That’s all you can do.”

Then they proceeded to get totally shitfaced.

30

SUBIC BAY. 1985.

The first time his father knew something was wrong was when he found Jackie in the closet covered in the entrails of a roadkill pig. Walker had only remembered the scene recently. It played across his mind like something he’d seen, not something he’d done. But the memory of the smell of the rotting entrails, blood, and offal, the stench of the puddle of vomit and urine that little Jackie lay within—it was so powerful it had to come from his own memories, however imperfectly they were set within his mind.

At first his father had stood there, one hand on the door, the other at his mouth. What he was seeing wasn’t understandable, it wasn’t explainable. There were no words that could have been used to describe the feelings of helplessness, outrage, and fear that played a devil’s jig on his psyche as his youngest boy giggled with the voice of an old man.

“
Halikan mo nga ako, Tay,
” it said.
Give us a kiss, Daddy.

His father had slammed the door shut immediately, leaving him in the darkness with his own insane giggles as he let the voices in his head take turns using his mouth.