Jacks stared at him hard. “As I recall, Lieutenant Talley didn’t black out on the aircraft returning from the border.”

  “That was a one-off, Admiral.”

  “Was it? I’m not so sure. Anyway, Chief, I’m looking at some assignments, right now, but I’m not sure what you’re suited for. Even if you’re ready to return, which I doubt.”

  “But Sir, I’m…”

  Jacks put up his hand. “Hear me out, Chief. I’ve been asked to recommend personnel for a new unit that’s being set up. It’s a joint operation between the Brits and ourselves, with a couple of other European countries showing interest as well.”

  “That sounds like a desk job to me, Sir. I’m happy staying with the Seals.”

  “That’s a shame. This new outfit will involve our own Navy Seals, volunteers from Delta Force, the British SAS and SBS, and the German KSK Kommando Spezialkräfte. The idea is to pool our resources to be able to mount operations anywhere in the world.”

  “It’s not my kind of outfit, Sir.”

  “I thought you’d say that. I have to recommend one of my senior men to spend time with this outfit.” His eyes swiveled to stare at Talley. “What about you, Lieutenant? I’d say you’d be perfect, and it’d look good in your service record.”

  Talley hesitated. “I’m pretty happy running Bravo Platoon, Admiral.”

  “Yeah, I know. But I’m under pressure to send someone who can give a good account of themselves. I think that’s you, Lieutenant. Consider yourself volunteered. I’ll arrange for you to meet with your opposite numbers.”

  He looked back at Nolan. “So you want to stay with Bravo, Chief?”

  “I do, Sir. Yes.”

  “I don’t know. I’m not entirely happy about it.”

  “I’ll do whatever you want, Sir. You name it.”

  “You mean that?”

  “I do, Sir.”

  “I see. Bravo will need a new Lieutenant, and I know you’ve already turned down a commission. I got into hot water from the brass for canning Lieutenant Boswell. His folks are pretty well connected in Washington. Do you think you can help turn him into an effective Navy Seal platoon leader?”

  Nolan felt Jacks’ eyes on him and knew he’d been boxed into a corner. Boswell was the price for him getting back to the Platoon. Either knock him into shape, which I accept will be tough, or take a back seat.

  And I walked right into it. Jacks played me like a fish. No wonder he made admiral, he smiled ruefully.

  “I’ll do my best, Admiral. I promise you this. The Lieutenant will either become a Seal, or die in the attempt.”

  “I hope you don’t mean that literally, Chief Nolan?”

  “If he makes the grade, he’ll live. That’s all I can promise. If not, well, training can be hard and dangerous. I guess it’s all up to Lieutenant Boswell.”

  “Very well, I’ll accept that. Get back to work, Chief, and make sure it works.”

  “Thank you, Sir. When do I get to talk to the Lieutenant?”

  “He’s waiting outside for you. I’ve told him to listen to what you have to say, and make sure he knows who’s running the Platoon.”

  Nolan chuckled, and Talley joined in.

  “So you knew all along I’d accept?”

  “Of course I did.” He shook hands with a straight face. “Dismissed. And good luck.”

  “Thank you, Sir. Lieutenant, I’ll wait for you outside the office.”

  He saluted, opened the door, and walked out. After ten minutes, Talley came out, and they shook hands and wished each other good luck in their new assignments. Nolan wondered if he’d made the right call. Joining the new outfit would have meant working with the elite of the world’s Special Forces, but then he checked himself. He already belonged to the elite of the world’s Special Forces. The Navy Seals. They were the best of the best. And Boswell? He’d have to get up to scratch real fast. He hadn’t been joking. Their training missions were often more dangerous than when they were out in the field. Leading the men out the back of a high altitude C-130, jumping into an inky black, storm ridden sea, and swimming underwater to a target designed by the instructors to be hard and dangerous to reach, was no job for a desk jockey. If he didn’t come up to scratch, he’d soon become another name on the Seals’ Roll of Honor. One way or the other, Bravo Platoon would wind up with the Lieutenant they needed to lead them. As he walked out, Boswell, who’d been sitting in the clerk’s office, approached him.

  “Chief, it’s good to see you again. Can we get together? I have some ideas for making some improvements to the Platoon.”

  Nolan stared at him. Boswell was starched and immaculate, as if he was about to go on parade.

  “Lieutenant, I have an idea that may help.”

  “You do? Care to run it past me?”

  “Sure. Take your ideas, write ‘em on a piece of paper, and use it for something useful. Maybe in the bathroom would be a start. Then let the Platoon carry on as it’s always run. That way you’ll live longer, and so will the rest of us.”

  The clerk looked up and smiled broadly, then looked away. Boswell stared at Nolan as he walked calmly out of the office and into the sunlight.

  I’m still a Seal. I’ve won out against the odds. The Iranians didn’t beat me. The brass didn’t beat me, and I’ll sure as hell lick Boswell into shape. Now all I have to do is face Carol. That’ll be the real ball breaker!

  * * *

  “Why did you have to do it, Kyle? Why did you have to go back?”

  “Carol, I already told you. If I’d taken the alternative, it would have meant me being away with this joint task force. It would have meant a lot more separations.”

  “You could have gone for something else entirely. You could be an instructor. They’d jump at the chance to have someone like you running the BUDS courses.”

  Nolan shivered inside. To spend his days working with raw recruits, instead of experiencing the periodic adrenaline rush of combat. It was not a happy thought.

  “Look, I’ve managed to persuade them not to send me off on this European gig. I thought you’d be happy.”

  “Well I’m not.”

  She’d got to her feet and left the room, to lose herself in the kitchen. He listened to her clattering around for a few minutes, then got up and went out, climbed into his car and drove down to the harbor. The guys were all there, Will, Dan, and Dave. Zeke was heavily bandaged, his arm in a sling. Brad, his chest padded out with dressings. His face still looked pale, but at least he was alive. Vince Merano, who’d emerged unscathed from the last mission; his gaze as steady as ever, calm, controlled, the perfect sniper. And Talley. They’d shaken hands warmly.

  “I guess this is the last I’ll see of you,” he said to the Lieutenant.

  “Maybe not. This new unit will be able to call on other Special Forces units when the occasion demands. You know about David Meir?”

  “No, what about him?”

  “He’s fully recovered and is in the new outfit. The Israelis are playing a part. They’re sending a couple of guys, and he’s one of them. He’s still with Mitra, you know. They’re pretty close. It looks as if it may be permanent.”

  “That’s great, yeah. And her father?”

  Talley grimaced. “He wants to go back inside Iran; says he has a lot to do there. They’ll shoot him on sight if they catch him, but you know what he’s like. Pretty stubborn, won’t listen to reason.”

  “Yeah, that’s terrible.”

  He thought of Mitra, her exotic beauty. Of the time they’d spent together, so short, and yet so precious. David was a lucky man, which was for sure. He doubted the Israeli’s family would see it that way. They were pretty fixed in their views in the Middle East, Muslim or Jew. Then he thought of the men they’d left behind, buried beneath the sands of the searing deserts of eastern Iran, and he vowed to make sure they weren’t forgotten. They deserved more, much more. And then he thought of Carol, with more than a twinge of guilt.

  I shouldn’t have slept with Mitra. It was all wrong.

  Carol is an exceptional person, and she deserved better. Maybe he couldn’t abandon his career with the Seals, but he sure could do better by her. Talley handed him a beer and held up his glass.

  “A toast, Chief.”

  “Yeah. The folks back home, and the ones that don’t get back home.”

  He swallowed in one, long pull. “I’m out of here. I need to get home. Good luck, and call me if you need anything.”

  “I’ll do that, Chief.”

  * * *

  When he walked into his living room, Carol was waiting for him. Her mood hadn’t changed.

  “We have to talk, Kyle. We can’t go on like this. You have to make a choice. It’s either me, or you continue in operations. I’m sorry, but you can’t have both. It’s too much. You can’t know what it’s like, sitting here, waiting to see if you’re going to come back.”

  “I always do,” he protested.

  “So far. And what about those guys that didn’t come back?

  He was left without an answer. When they went to bed, she was still stiff with anger, and they lay on opposite sides of the bed. For a short time. Then they touched as if by accident. He put his hand on her cool, smooth skin and felt the familiar electric jolt when he was so aroused by her body. She was so trim and firm, almost like a young girl, not an experienced San Diego detective. They made love, fiercely, passionately. She was different somehow, but he couldn’t put his finger on what it was. The sex was great, truly great. Maybe too great, was this some kind of a goodbye?

  Goodbye! How empty my life would be without her, and even worse for the kids. They are so happy in their new life with Carol. If we split up, it would all change.

  “I’ll think about it.”

  She lifted her head and looked at him. “About what?”

  “About leaving operations, maybe finding a training post, here in San Diego.”

  She pulled him close to her. “Kyle, that would be wonderful. Not just for me, but for Daniel and Mary too. They’re feeling the strain of your constant absences and seeing you come home, looking as if you’ve been in a war.”

  I guess that’s because I have been in a war. It’s what we’re paid for, what we sign up to. I should have tried to hide it, but maybe it wouldn’t have made a difference. A shower, shave and change of clothes can only camouflage so much.

  He’d seen it in other Seals after a mission, and in the eyes, the strain always showed. The way you were always watching, waiting for the sound of a shot, always looking around for the next threat. A woman would notice that hard, cold alertness. There was no hiding it.

  “Yeah, I’ll have a word with them when I go back.”

  “Why don’t we have a barbecue on the weekend, invite them all around. I’ve never met the entire Platoon, not socially. It would be nice to be able to relax.”

  “Carol, I said I’d think about it. You’re not doing this just because I spoke about a transfer?”

  She smiled. “Obviously, I’d love it if you transferred. There’s no future for us carrying on as we are. But no, I thought it would be a way for us all to relax, without the shadow of a recent mission hanging over us. It’s been some time since you got back, and as far as I know, you’re not due to go active again.”

  He nodded. “That’s true. The Platoon got pretty beat up last time out. We’re going to need some time for R&R, and there’ll be replacements to bed in, so yeah, we’re pretty clear.”

  * * *

  They managed to get the whole Platoon in, Talley, and Lieutenant Boswell, as the incoming Platoon commander. The surviving members of Bravo, Will Bryce, hard, tough, like a rock. Brad Rose, the beach boy, managing to look handsome despite his bruised appearance. Zeke Murray still swathed in bandages, leaning on a stick. Dave Eisner, Dan Moseley, talking quietly between themselves. And Vince Merano, his opposite number, the other unit sniper. Vince caught his look and grinned.

  “It’s a good party, Chief. Any particular reason? You’re not thinking about jumping ship?”

  He hadn’t told him anything, but Vince was as close to him as anyone, and knew all about the stresses and strains he operated under. And worst of all, he knew about the blackouts he’d been having. And worried about Nolan’s ability to perform under the stress of combat.

  “I don’t know, Vince. I’ve got a lot on my mind, right now. Everything’s up in the air.”

  “You want my advice?”

  Nolan pondered that one for a minute.

  It can’t do any harm to hear what someone thinks I should do. And to know how bad Vince thinks my blackouts are. How much has he seen? I don’t know know how bad they really are. He grinned to himself. That’s the nature of a blackout.

  “Go ahead.”

  “It’ll resolve itself.”

  “That’s it? It’ll resolve itself?”

  Is he talking about the blackouts? Or my family problems? Something else? I don’t want to talk any more, not about myself.

  “That’s it,” Vince nodded emphatically. “You’ll see.”

  He didn’t get a chance to thank him or to reply. There was a stir in the garden. A newcomer arrived. Rear Admiral Drew Jacks. He swaggered in, slightly bow legged as usual, and for the first time, they saw him out of uniform. But even in civilian clothes, he looked as if he was wearing uniform, an A2 leather flyer’s jacket over tan pants and shirt, polished tan shoes, his hair in the short buzz cut. He chatted to the Platoon, and then made his way over to Nolan and Vince.

  “You two look as if you’re plotting something here. What is it, has a new mission come up?”

  They shook their heads. He chuckled.

  “No, I know that there’s nothing much on the board. Alpha and Charlie Platoons were both on alert status, and they’ve just picked up the latest operation, a little business in the Middle East. So you’re in the clear. You guys can take it easy.”

  The two petty officers were silent, and Jacks stared at both of them.

  “What is it?”

  And then Nolan told him. “I’m thinking about moving away from operations, Admiral. A couple of reasons, mainly to do with the family. I thought an instructor position or something similar might come up, and I’d apply for it.”

  Jacks nodded, his face serious. “Is it what you want?”

  “It’s what my family needs, Sir.”

  “Yeah, they all do. But I asked you, is it what you want?”

  Before he could reply, Carol joined them, and she greeted Jacks warmly. They’d become almost old friends since she’d helped out the Platoon, mainly in her capacity as a police officer.

  “Kyle was telling me that he’s thinking about an instructor position. I guess you’d be much happier, having him home after work, not chasing America’s enemies in some fleabag of a country.”

  She grinned. “You betcha. It’s hard, being home and not knowing when your partner is coming home.”

  She didn’t say ‘if he’s coming home’.

  “You’re right, Carol. It is hard, damn hard. But there’s another side to it, there always is.”

  He fished his cellphone out of his pocket as it rang. When he looked at the screen, he excused himself and walked to a quiet part of the garden. Carol put her arm around Nolan.

  “You spoke to him, then. How did he take it?”

  “Okay, I guess. It’s all up in the air. I need to work a few things out.”

  She stared into his eyes. “Don’t take too long about it.”

  Nolan nodded and went away to make sure their guests had fresh drinks. Jacks was talking a long time on his cell, but after a half-hour he hung up and spoke to Nolan.

  “Chief, I need to talk to the men. Something’s come up. But before I do, I think I’d like to run it past you and Carol.”

  “Carol? What does she have to do with it?”

  She came up behind him. “I heard that, Kyle. Why don’t we hear what Admiral Jacks has to say?”

  “Can we talk inside?” Jacks asked. “Being as this is personal.”

  “Sure.” Nolan led them into the living room, which was empty. “Go ahead, Admiral.”

  Jacks looked at Carol, and then back to him. “I asked to speak to you both because of what you said about a transfer. It’s a mission, just come up. I want to give you the chance to sit this one out. But I have to know for sure one way or the other. There are a lot of lives at stake.”

  Carol gave him a curious stare. “What do you mean, what’s happened? Or is it classified?”

  “It is, but there’s no harm in you knowing, being as you’re part of the family. An aircraft went down, and we believe it was shot down by a surface to air missile.”

  “The poor devils,” Carol murmured. “Are they all dead?”

  “That’s the thing, no. The pilot managed to land the aircraft with one engine out, and the other one hanging on by a thread.”

  “So they’re okay, they survived?”

  “They survived the crash landing, yes. The problem is what happened afterwards. The aircraft was carrying a party of Medecin Sans Frontieres doctors and nurses from Australia to North Africa, where they were heading to patch up some of the poor devils that got caught up in the Arab Spring. They’re desperately short of doctors and drugs, and the aircraft was sent to help out the locals, who’re dying like flies because of lack of medical attention. The aircraft was shot down over Somalia, probably by some warlord or other. They’re pretty trigger-happy. They took the survivors hostage, and they’re demanding a ransom of ten million dollars for each one. There’s no way that kind of ransom can be paid, and the Somalis have said they’ll start executing the survivors.”

  Carol looked ashen. “How long have they got before they start killing them?”

  “Three days. The first one gets killed in three days time, and then one every twelve hours until we start paying.”

  “What are you going to do? Surely you can just pay them?”

  He smiled. “And encourage them to shoot down every aircraft that crosses their airspace? That’s not an option. We have to go in and free them.”