CHAPTER 90

Beaufort National Cemetery

Port Royal Island, South Carolina

October

THE SERVICE HAD BEEN solemn but at times humorous as the pastor honored the life of Senior Chief Petty Officer Fredrick Alfred Strain (Ret. ). It was obvious that the man knew him well despite Freddy having moved to Beaufort just a few months earlier. Reece figured this must have been Joanie’s congregation growing up. The church was crowded with family and friends as well as former and active SEALs. The media stayed away; none of them had yet made the connection between the attempt on the U. S. president and a local veteran’s funeral. Reece rode in the limousine at Joanie’s request as the procession made the short trip to the nearby veterans’ cemetery. It was a beautiful spot in South Carolina’s low country: live oaks dripping in moss shaded the graves of soldiers who had fought on both sides of the nation’s bloody Civil War and every conflict since. Freddy would rest surrounded by fellow warriors.

Reece helped Joanie out of the limo and gazed upon the line of cars parked along the cemetery’s asphalt driveway. A supercharged Range Rover with a custom flat-black paint scheme and green Vermont plates caught his eye. The door opened and a tall, fit man wearing a dark suit emerged. His eyes found Reece within seconds and, even at a hundred yards, Reece recognized Raife Hastings.

At the graveside ceremony, before military honors were rendered, the pastor read a passage from Isaiah 6: 8. To some in attendance it had a special significance.

“Then I heard the voice of the Lord saying, ‘Whom shall I send? And who will go for us? ’ And I said, ‘Here am I. Send me! ’& #8201; ”

Vic Rodriguez presented Joanie with the folded American flag and the SEALs in attendance lined up to press their golden Tridents into the mahogany veneer of their brother’s casket. Reece joined the line of frogmen, reaching into his pocket to run his thumb over the insignia that represented the brotherhood. Superimposed over an anchor signifying the naval service were a trident spear, an eagle with its head down searching for prey, and a musket that was cocked and ready for war. Those symbols represented the three mediums in which SEALs operate: sea, air, and land.

For a moment Freddy’s casket was replaced with that of Reece’s wife and daughter, his teammates lining up to render similar honors. Reece closed his eyes, then opened them and looked at Joanie, her arms around two of her three children, a daughter just shy of her teen years and seven-year-old Fred Jr., providing them comfort and support. Sam could not attend due to his genetic condition and was at home with a caretaker provided by the church. Reece removed the protective backings from his Trident and placed it on the coffin. He looked back to Joanie, then at the casket that held his friend before slamming his fist down onto the Navy SEAL Trident and cementing it into the mahogany, his dark sunglasses concealing his pain. As Reece passed the grieving widow, little Fred Jr. pushed himself off his chair and stood before the coffin. Then, standing at attention, he slowly lifted his hand in salute. He remained standing until the last Trident was embedded in its final resting place. There was not a dry eye in attendance.

At the conclusion of the ceremony, the assembled parties gathered into groups of friends and loved ones. Soon the Team guys would find an Irish pub and give Freddy a proper send-off. The local sheriff’s office was informed of the commando’s death and had offered to drive any of the SEALs where they needed to go, no questions asked.

Reece offered condolences to Strain’s parents, whom he’d met years before, and stood uncomfortably between the groups, not feeling particularly at home among any of them. He was all too aware of the toxic environment created by some of the senior officers. The late Admiral Pilsner still had some friends in high places, and Reece didn’t want to put any of the active-duty SEALs in a bad position with rumors of them being too chummy with the man who had blown the admiral into tiny bits in his own office.

Reece felt a hand on his shoulder and turned to see Vic Rodriguez.

“Thanks for being there for Joanie and the kids, Vic. ”

“Freddy was one of my guys. I brought him in. You’re one of mine, too, Reece. ”

“We can talk about that later. I owe you a thank-you, though. I got the queen’s check. Didn’t think you guys would actually follow through with that. ”

“I told you it was part of the deal. Regardless of what you may think, Reece, even in the intelligence business, our word is our bond. ”

Reece nodded.

“I’m still working on the travel records for Grey and Andrenov. I should have it soon. ”

“Thanks, Vic, ” he said, turning to leave.

“There’s one more thing, Reece. After you left my office the other day, I asked myself, ‘What would my father do? ’& #8201; ”

“What do you mean? ” Reece asked, remembering the Bay of Pigs photo on Vic’s office wall.

Rodriguez pulled a manila envelope from his jacket pocket, handed it to Reece, nodded, and walked away.

Reece peered into the envelope and saw part of an aerial photo. What the? He took a few steps away from the other mourners and looked at the contents of the envelope: maps, photos, surveillance logs, and a flash drive. It was a target package.

Distracted by the package, he almost didn’t see Raife approach. Unlike the suit that Reece had bought at a local men’s store the day before, Raife’s was finely tailored and likely cost ten times as much. His skin was tanned to a deep copper, making the scar on his face all the more noticeable. His sandy blond hair looked sun-bleached from living in the elements. It was the eyes, though, that set Raife apart, those glowing green eyes. If he hadn’t opted to spend his life as a frogman, rancher, and businessman, he could have gone to Hollywood.

Reece shoved the envelope into his jacket pocket and extended his hand to his friend.

“Sad day, Reece. ”

“It is, brother. ”

“Were you with him? ”

“I was, ” Reece confirmed, “but I didn’t see it; sniper got him. We were in Odessa. He saved the president’s life. ”

“Figured that was it. Timing was too close. ”

Reece hesitated. “Thank you for what you did for me. ”

“I owed you one. ”

“Well, not anymore. I thought a lot about that on the boat, and about what’s important. ”

“I have too, Reece. I don’t blame you for anything that went down in Iraq. I want you to know that I was angry at the system, and truth be told, angry with myself. ”

Reece looked at his friend and knew it was best not to push.

“I spoke to Uncle Rich, ” Raife said, changing subjects. “He sends his best. He says that you saved Solomon’s life and that’s what blew your cover. You’re a good oak, Reece; you always were. ”

Raife broke into a rare smile as the men shook hands.

“Freddy told me what your family did for Sam. Incredible. ”

Raife nodded. “It was the least I could do. ”

Reece thought for a moment. “I have a question for you: do you miss it? ”

Raife thought for a moment before responding. “Not the action. The mission. I miss the mission. ”

“How would you like to avenge the deaths of both Freddy and your aunt? ” Reece asked, bringing up the airline shoot-down he’d learned about in Mozambique. “Two birds with one stone? ”

“How do you know about that? Ah, the PHs. They talk too much. ”

“That Strela-2 that brought down her airplane. The guy that supplied that missile is the mastermind behind President Zubarev’s assassination and Freddy’s death. ”

Raife turned his green eyes toward the gravestones and then back to Reece. “When do we leave? ”

⇐ Предыдущая 88 89 90 91 929394 95 96 97 Следующая ⇒