Seal Team Seven #19: Field of Fire by Keith Douglass Read Free Book Online Page A

eyes of the law as Woodward was.
    “Oh, damn,” Lam said. He looked at the clock. It was time for him to get out his Harley and ride the two miles to work at SEAL Team Seven. He had to go in. He had to act like nothing had happened last night. Nothing at all.
    At the parking lot outside the Quarterdeck, he rolled his Hog directly in front of two cars, almost hiding it froma casual view from Silver Strand Boulevard. He waved at the master chief on his way across the Quarterdeck and then eased into Platoon Three and got into his cammies.
    In the platoon office, Murdock and Gardner did one last check on the training schedule and made some changes. The phone rang just before 0800 and Murdock picked it up on the second chime.
    “Yes sir, this is Platoon Three of the Seventh.”
    “You guys finally get awake out there? Hell, it’s almost lunchtime back here.” It was the familiar voice of Don Stroh, their control from the Central Intelligence Agency.
    “Should we be talking?” Murdock asked.
    “Oh, hell yes. The CNO told me not to worry about what your ringbanger commander out there told you. He and your captain are outranked all over the place. The CNO will send down an assignment through channels, and we’ll see how quickly it gets there. Here’s the word. You have a special assignment straight from the CNO and my boss. You will be leaving tomorrow morning at oh-eight-hundred in the small business jet for a trip to Washington, D.C. You will take only five men with you. You are to include any Arabic and Farsi speakers, and other men who can pick up a language quickly.”
    “Arabic? We have two.”
    “You will have a week of training here, then you’ll receive your special assignment.”
    “I’ll bet we won’t be going to Switzerland. Six men. That will take some thought. Can you tell me anything more?”
    “Not a word. Your Navy orders will be even less specific. I’ll see you tomorrow in Virginia.”
    “That’s it?”
    “Afraid so. My dance card is all filled up. Best I can do. How’s the fishing?”
    “You missed the albacore again. Two fish per pole out on the overnight boat. Plus yellow fin, a few Dorado, and some yellowtail. Best fishing here in ten years.”
    “Thanks for that. Oh, they want you to come naked. No duffel, no bags, no extra cammies, no weapons orcombat gear. Just your bodies and your minds. See you tomorrow.”
    Murdock hung up and looked at Gardner. “JG, I and five men will be flying out tomorrow morning. You’ll have the con here. I don’t know what the mission is or how long it might last. All I know is that we will have a week’s training in Virginia.”
    “CIA?”
    “Good guess. He wants our Arabic and Farsi speakers. That’s Rafii and I and who else?”
    “I saw in the personnel files that Bradford speaks Italian and some Arabic,” Gardner said. “He would pick up Arabic quickly.”
    “Yes. And Fernandez. With his Spanish, Arabic would be easy.”
    “For operational efficiency I want Jaybird and Lam,” Murdock said. “That makes six. Ask the senior chief to have the master chief cut orders for us and to have those five men meet me here in ten minutes.”
    Gardner nodded and left.
    Murdock stared at the phone. You train and train and wait and wait, and then it all happens overnight. Arabic. So they would be inserted into some Arab country. That wasn’t hard to figure out, but which one and why?
    They had a minimum training day, doing a twelve-mile hike in full gear and ammo loads, and then went through the kill house. Lieutenant (j.g.) Gardner turned in the best kill ratio with a 92 percent.
    “You trying to show off, JG?” Jaybird cracked. “Hell, nobody’s ever got a ninety in this league. We’ve seen some eighties but they were mostly luck.”
    “Hey, small man with a big mouth,” Senior Chief Sadler barked. “Let’s show a little respect for a good shooter. You ever shoot that good, I’ll shine your shoes for a week.”
    Jaybird grinned. “Sir,