The Intruders by Stephen Coonts Read Free Book Online Page A

hats, which was precisely
the effect, Jake suspected, that the bosun intended. The deck apes
would work like slaves for him until they dropped in their tracks.
    All too soon the ship’s whistle sounded, bullhorns blared and sailors
rushed to single up the lines holding the great ship to the land. The
men on the pier gave their women one last passionate hug, then dashed
for the gangways. As seven bells sounded over the ship’s PA system,
cranes lifted the gangways clear and deposited them on the pier.
    The last of the lines were released and the ship began to move, very
slowly at first, almost imperceptibly. Slowly the gap between the pier
and the men crowding the rails widened.
    Sailors tossed their Dixie cups at the pier and children scurried like
rats to retrieve them. The strains of “Anchors Aweigh” filled the air.
    When the pier was several hundred feet away and aft of the beam, Jake
felt a rumble reach him through the steel on which he stood. The screws
were biting. The effect was noticeable. The pier slid astern slowly at
first, then with increasing speed.
    Now the pilot climbed to the flight deck and threaded his way past
tie-down chains toward the bow, where he joined a loose knot of men
leaning into the increasing wind. Ahead was the Bay Bridge, then the
Golden Gate. And the fog beyond the Golden Gate was disappearing.
    The ship had cleared the Bay Bridge and was steaming at eight or ten
knots Past Alcatraz when the loudspeaker sounded. ,Flight Quarters,
flight quarters- All hands man your flight quarters station.”
    The cruise had begun.
    Jake was in the locker room donning his flight gear when a black Marine
in a flight suit came in- He had railroad tracks pinned to the shoulders
of his flight suit, so he was a captain, the Marine equivalent of Jake’s
Navy rank Of lieutenant. He looked Jake over, nodded to a couple of
Marines , then strolled who were also suiting up to get some traps over
to Jake.
    “They call me Flap. I guess we’re flying together.”
    The BN had his hair cut in the Marine Corps’ version of an Afro–that
is, it stuck out from his head about half an inch and was meticulously
tapered on the sides and back. He was slightly above medium height,
with the well-developed chest and muscles that can only be acquired by
thousands of hours of pumping iron. He looked to be in his late
twenties, maybe thirty at the most.
    Jake Grafton. you’re Le Beau?”
    “Yep-”
    “HOw come you weren’t at the brief?”
    “Hey, man This is CQ1″ CQ meant carrier qualification, we’re gonna do is
fly around this bird farm with the wheels down, dangling our little hook
thing- This is Your bag. You can back it, can’t ya?” jake decided to
change the subject- “Where you from?” “Paris. Get it? Le Beau? French
name? Parris Island?”
    “Ha ha.”
    “Don’t let this fine chocolate complexion fool you, my man. It’s French
Chocolate-”
    “French shit,” said one of Le Beau’s fellow Marines. “Eat it, butt
breath,” Flap shot back. “I’m black with a seasoning of Creole-”
    “Sorta like coffee with cream,” Jake Grafton remarked as he zipped up
his torso harness.
    “Yeah man. That’s exactly right. There was a planter in Louisiana, Le
Beau, with a slobbering craving for black POonta’19- After the Civil War
he took personal offense when his former slaves adopted his last name.
They did it ’cause most of them was his sons and daughters. But Le Beau
didn’t like the thought of being recognized in history as a patriarch,
didn’t want to admit his generous genetic contributions to improving a
downtrodden race. Hung a co Pie Of his nigger kids, he did. So the
blacks in the parish adopted the name. More damn black Le Beaus in that
sectIon Of Louisiana than you could shake a stiff dick at. Now that
redneck Cajun planter bigot was one of my many greatgreat-grandpappys,
of whom I am so very proud.”
    “Tea” said Jake Grafton, who checked to see that the laces of his new
G-suit were