SEAL Team 666: A Novel

“If the soccer moms only knew.” Ruiz grinned and leaned back, imagining all sorts of terrible things that could happen. The devil inside him that liked to blow things up appreciated the chaotic potential of such an encounter.

Holmes opened the box. Ruiz could see inside and noticed the royal-blue felt lining. He leaned forward and watched as the team leader used metal tweezers with a screw on one end to hold a seven-inch spike in place. Black at the base, it ran through the spectrum until it was red at the tip.

Yaya whistled low. “And that came off of something the size of a horse?”

“More like a pony … with spikes.”

“Is it poisonous?” Ruiz asked. “I never noticed the color before.”

“We were too busy trying to destroy it. I didn’t notice the colors either. I think they may be poisonous, but for obvious reasons I haven’t personally checked.”

Yaya laughed nervously and repeated, “Haven’t personally checked.”

Holmes gave him a hoary eye. “You gonna be all right, SEAL?”

The Egyptian-American’s wide, expressive eyes flashed as he nodded.

“Okay, then hold still.” Holmes held the spike out in front of Yaya until it was only a few inches away.

Holmes brought the spike back and then held it out to Ruiz.

“What’s the big deal, Yaya? The homunculi were far more dangerous than this.”

“Were they?” he asked, transfixed by the spike. “Kind of hard to take them seriously when they looked like buffed-out action figures.”

“Fucking new guy,” Ruiz said, as if it were the saddest thing to say in the world.

“Okay, Mr. Wizard,” Holmes said, holding out the tweezers. “You get to test your own theory.”

Ruiz was surprised that Holmes would let him take the lead like this. He grabbed the metal tweezers as if they held a vial of nitroglycerin.

As soon as Holmes let go, he leaned back and put his hands behind his head. He took on the face of a curious scientist about to watch an experiment.

Walker noticed this and narrowed his eyes. “What do you think is going to happen?”

“You tell me,” Holmes countered. “Feel anything?”

“I felt something as soon as you brought out the box.”

“Through the metal? Interesting. What does it feel like now?”

“You know how your feet tingle after you’ve been sitting Indian style for a long time? My whole body feels like that.”

“What about now?” Ruiz asked as he quickly brought the spine within a foot of Walker.

The result was instantaneous.

Walker’s entire body went rigid. His eyes popped to what seemed like twice their size. His teeth snapped together and began to grind like a meth addict’s in the middle of the second day of a rock.

Holmes leaned forward and put his elbows on his knees. “How are you feeling right now?”

Walker grunted as he tried to get his face under control. He brought a hand up but it was shaking too violently to be of any use. He dropped it back to his lap, where it flopped like a dying fish.

“Does it hurt?” Yaya asked.

“Nuh—no.” He managed to close both of his hands. They were now vibrating fists.

“Can you stand? Could you operate a weapon?” Holmes asked, frowning.

Walker couldn’t respond. Instead, he merely stared back at Holmes, helplessness and fear shining from his wobbling eyes.

“Enough.” Holmes reached out and took the spine back from Ruiz. He placed it in the box, closed and locked the lid, then took it into his room.

Walker sat back gasping. “Oh, my God.” He rolled his eyes at Ruiz. “That was way stronger than the Stretch Armstrongs.”

“Dude,” Yaya said, standing up and snapping his towel. “That was badass! Can we do it again?”

“Not if you want to live.”

Holmes came back out of his room talking on the cell phone. A moment later he snapped it shut. “NRO’s going to conduct their overflight in twenty-five minutes. We’re going over to SPG to see it live. Grab your shit and let’s go.”

38

SPG OFFICES. MORNING.

Both human and canine members of SEAL Team 666 climbed into the van. Fifteen minutes later, they were strolling into the offices of SPG. Past the reception area, they continued into the SCIF, where access was made through a safelike door. The SCIF, or Sensitive Controlled Information Facility, was especially suited for the transmission, reception, and creation of information at the top-secret level and beyond. Besides its offices, the centerpiece of the SCIF was the Strategic Information Center. A Navy lieutenant passed them through, not even giving Hoover a second glance. With a pair of floor-to-ceiling flatscreen monitors as well as a battery of computers, this was the place where SPG could render assistance to the special-operations community when necessary.

Watching the men and women working at their stations, Walker felt certain this was the location from which SPG had assisted them when they’d been on the ship. He’d known the SIC was in the building because Jen had spoken of it, but until now he’d never seen it with his own eyes.

And there she was.