SEAL Team 666: A Novel

Holmes stuck his head out of the conference room and glanced around, then yelled at Ruiz. “You’re not done yet? Get him his gear and tell the others. We got to prep. We leave in three hours. Special Projects Group got a lead on the ship in Macau. We’re going to investigate.”

Ruiz glanced longingly at the bar atop the living quarters. “Three hours? Hell, that’s barely enough time to shit, shower, and shave. You sure SPG got it right?”

“Get your ass in gear, SEAL,” Holmes growled. “You’ll have a chance to unwind when the world is safe.” He grinned momentarily. “Or at least when this is over. I could use some unwinding myself.” Then he was all seriousness once again. “Now get the FNG his stuff and get ready.” Then he went back into the conference room and shut the door.

Ruiz turned to Walker. “You heard the man. Let’s get your things and I’ll show you your digs. Then we gotta get ready.”

13

SPG OFFICES. NIGHT.

Half an hour later, Walker drove one of the team jeeps across Coronado and pulled in front of a building with a sign out front that read SPECIAL PROJECTS GROUP. The lights were on inside and cars were still parked in the lot. That it was near midnight meant nothing to the mission. He parked, ran up the stairs, opened the door, waved a hand at the secretary, and was down the hall into an office.

A slim woman with red hair and a splash of freckles turned toward him when he entered. She didn’t have time to say anything before she was swept into his arms. Walker kissed her deeply. At first she had her hands on his arms, trying to push him away, but soon she relaxed and hugged him tightly. She returned the kiss and they remained that way for a long passionate minute.

When they separated, her face was so flushed that her freckles were almost hidden. Her blue eyes were wide.

“I was wondering where you were,” she said. “You landed hours ago.”

His mouth opened. “How did you…? I was coming to tell you about my assignment.”

She pushed him away gently and walked to her office door and closed it. “Come on. Since when have I not known what’s going on? SPG has supported SEAL Team 666 off and on for more than a decade.”

“You knew about them, Jen?” But of course she knew about them.

“I know a hundred other secrets that you don’t know, Jack. You know how it works. Need to know, and until today, you didn’t need to know.”

“But now—”

“Now you’re the newest member of SEAL Team 666.” Her smile fell as she got serious. “It’s a dangerous assignment.”

“Being a SEAL is dangerous.”

“Not like this. This is more than just run-of-the-mill SEAL danger.”

Walker grinned at the phrase—run-of-the-mill SEAL danger.

His girlfriend of the last twelve months punched him in the chest. “I’m serious, Jack.”

He caught her hand before she could punch him again. “I know you are. I’ll be prepared. That’s what careful really is, right? Being ready for anything.”

She cupped his face and seemed about to kiss him; then her phone rang. “Hold on.” She went behind a desk that held two large-screen monitors and sat down. Three different telephones were arrayed side by side. They were differentiated by colored stickers. Green was for unclassified, red was for secret, and yellow was for top secret, which was the phone she was using now. A nameplate on the desk read JENNIFER COSTELLO, PROJECT CHIEF.

She didn’t say much to the person on the other end, just occasionally acknowledged something that she heard. Once she flicked her gaze at Walker, but otherwise she kept looking at the desktop. After two minutes, she put down the phone.

“Wait here, will you?” She stood. “I have to go do something real quick.”

She pecked him on the cheek, left the room, and closed the door behind her.

Walker decided to sit for a few minutes. He’d been going since first bell, at 5 A.M. Half an hour after a mad scramble to get dressed and in formation, he’d been running on the beach with Class 290, trying desperately to send his shin splints to a place beyond the finish line. The pain had been excruciating but he’d long ago learned to ignore it.

“Screams are just pain leaving the body,” Instructor Reno loved to shout. “Scream all you want, just don’t give in to the pain.”

And Walker never did. He’d known pain before and wouldn’t succumb. Holding out the palm of his left hand, he stared at the starlike scar in the middle of his palm. Like the Patpong hooker had told him as he plowed through a gallon of Mekong whiskey, “Looks like your life line exploded.” That simple statement had meant more than she knew. He could almost remember the pencil that had plunged through his tiny hand, but he didn’t remember how it had gotten there, although sometimes a flash after a night of drinking or in the early-morning hours would reveal that it had been his own demon-spawned inertia that had delivered the blow.

Even now, after more than twenty years, the pain still lingered. Yes, he knew pain. They’d been traveling companions for a long time.