To the Death

“There are such things as laws, Jimmy,” he said. “Particularly in a socialist country like England. And those laws prevent ex-Navy SEALs from opening fire on wandering terrorists, whatever their crimes. The Brits have been neurotic about the human rights of criminals ever since that cream-puff Blair and his lawyer wife smooth-talked their way into 10 Downing Street.”

“Couldn’t we fix something with the Brits?”

“I think that’s very possible, if we can get the president on our side. Arnold obviously needs specialized protection, and the Brits won’t relish getting the blame if anything should happen to him while he’s in their country.”

“Can you talk to President Bedford?”

“Well, not right now. He’s fishing up in Kennebunkport with George Bush. But he’s coming back in the morning. I’ll catch him then.”

“Okay, sir. Let’s assume something can be arranged. You want me to talk to John Bergstrom, see if he can suggest anyone?”

“Good idea, Jimmy. We don’t want anything to happen to our guy, right? Let’s start things moving right away.”

Jimmy returned to his office, checked his watch—2:30 P.M. in California — and punched in the numbers for SPECWARCOM in Coronado, San Diego. It took the assistant to the director of the National Security Agency approximately three minutes to be put through to Vice Admiral John Bergstrom, who was in the final weeks of his tenure as head of Special War Command.

He and Lt. Commander Ramshawe had met previously and shared in common a profound admiration for Admiral Morgan. It took Jimmy only two or three minutes to outline the events in London that morning, and the potential danger to Arnold, for the king SEAL to offer his undivided attention.

Finally Jimmy came to the point. Both he and Admiral George Morris were convinced that Arnold now required a very special bodyguard. Jimmy pointed out the skill and devilish determination of the assassin who everyone now assessed as the C-in-C of Hamas in person.

“He’s a highly trained SAS commander, Admiral,” said Jimmy. “And the truth is, he’s been a couple of jumps in front of us ever since we first suspected there was a Middle Eastern agent who’d been tracking down Kathy’s mom.”

“Did he actually get inside a building opposite the Ritz Hotel and then open fire on Arnold?” asked Admiral Bergstrom.

“He sure did,” said Jimmy. “We’re working with the London police to try to identify and then locate him. But I’m highly unhopeful.”

“You mean this bastard is still on the loose?”

“Correct. And, so far, the best we’ve been able to do is surround Arnie with a group of London bobbies. And that’s not anything like good enough. Not with a trained Special Forces assassin like this guy on his trail.”

“What do you need, Jimmy?”

“Ideally I’d like one of your top guys. Maybe a recently retired SEAL. Someone who’s fit, hard-trained, and savvy, a guy who’s worked in the hot-spots, who knows what to watch for, who can spot danger before it arrives.”

“Uh-huh,” said the admiral. “We got guys like that. But let me ask you one thing — will the Brits allow us to move in an armed warrior to protect one of our own?”

“Admiral Morris says yes. Mainly because they will not want to get the blame if anything happens to the Big Man.”

“Who’s asking them? That’s important.”

“George says President Bedford will do it.”

“That’s good, because if he asks, they’ll say yes. It’s one of those perfect situations. You ask for that kind of favor, and they say no, then you’ve got ’em by the ears, because if something goes wrong it’s obviously their fault. I should think they’d be delighted to hand Arnie’s security over to us.”

“Then,” said Jimmy, “if it all goes wrong, it’s totally our fault, right?”

“You got it. Trouble is, I’m real stretched at the minute. We got guys all over the place, Iraq, Iran, Burma, Afghanistan, Saudi Arabia, Bahrain. And you want a top guy, like a full SEAL commander. And we don’t have that many. But I do have a guy in mind.”

“Who’s that?”

“I’m considering our old friend Commander Rick Hunter. And I’m considering him for several reasons, the first and main one being he’s probably the best we ever had. Secondly, he is a great fan of Arnold Morgan’s. And thirdly, he’s retired and could easily take the time.”

“Has he stayed fit?”

“Hell, yes. He has a private gym at his home, and he runs around that darned great farm of his every day.”

“Is that SEAL-fit, combat-fit?”

“That’s Hunter-fit, which is almost certainly better.”

“Where does he live?”

“Kentucky.”

“Oh, yes; I remember now. His family runs a thoroughbred horse-breeding farm, right?”

“That’s him. And quite honestly, I don’t think his wife — Diana — would allow him to go into combat again. But this is not combat, is it? He’s just got to go with the admiral and make sure no one tries to kill him. It’s nothing like the danger level he’s used to.”

“Who should ask him, sir? You, I hope.”

“You, I’m afraid,” said the admiral. “I asked him once before to undertake a special mission, and he got shot in the thigh. I think Diana might hang up on me if I called.”