A real friend listens until he hears the truth.
Shit.
What was with this morning and painful reminders? If Elijah was a man who believed in omensand he constantly told himself that he definitely was nothed be having some serious worries.
Because he recognized the handwriting as that of a formerand supposedly deadteammate. One whod caused intense pain to a lot of people, himself included. Jaw clenched against the memories, Elijah started to crush the paper in his fist, then thought better of it. How the hell had it gotten into his pocket? Hed roomed with Ramsey before the mission that had sent Elijah to the burn ward and Ramsey into an ash can. But hed never seen that paper before, and he and Ramsey had never been note-sharing, or pants-sharing, kind of guys.
Pulling his sketch pad out of his satchel, Elijah tucked the paper into the back of the pad and snagged a pencil. Then, in his usual way of working through something that puzzled him, he ran his fingers over the thick blank page, letting his mind clear and his pencil fly.
The sounds, the chatter, the varied scents of colognes and soap all faded into the background as he sketched. Impressions, memories, imagined scenarios.
Dude, I missed breakfast, Diego muttered next to him. Thats a whole lot of ugly to offer up to an empty stomach.
Elijah glanced at his tablemate, then back at the sketch pad and grimaced. It was a page full of Ramsey. Full face, side view, body shots, action images. In some hed drawn the guy to look like a movie star, in others like the devil himself. Which was the true face of the man? Did any of them show the lies? The hideous betrayal?
Elijah would have to look closer later. For now...
Sorry. He flipped to a blank page.
Yeah. Brandon Ramsey had given the entire team a gut ache, but Diego had special reason to hate the guy. Before he could explain the drawings, the room went silent.
Gentlemen.
Commander Nic Savinos single word was quiet, his steps easy as he strode into the room. Tall and lean despite the powerful breadth of his shoulders, Savino was a man who demanded attention without ever having to force the issue. Elijah had seen him bloody; hed seen him drunk. Hed seen him pissed, and hed seen him thrilled. What hed never seen was Savino out of control.
Savino didnt command the entire SEAL Team 7, but he was in charge of this unit. And he was the leader of Poseidon.
As soon as he reached the front of the room, Savino slanted Jarrett a nod. With automatic deference, the other man stepped away from the podium and took his own seat. The captain booted up his computer, the information on it flashing on the screen behind the podium with the familiar trident insignia.
If everyones ready? Savinos dark eyes scanned the room. Knowing he was taking in every detail, Elijah wouldnt be surprised to find out the guy was checking their souls along with inspecting the team. We have a mission.
As one the men came to attention, each using his own method of recording data. To Elijahs right, Lansky whipped out a computer tablet and gave it a snap to release its keyboard. To his left, Torres pulled out an encrypted recording device and, being a big believer in backup, a notebook. Elijahs own notebook was actually a sketch pad. It was filled with drawings, encrypted notes and, if he did say so himself, clever doodles.
As he listened to his commander outline the objective, detail the plan and delineate strategy, Elijah drew. He sketched his impressions from the buildings Savino showed on the view screen. He added a helicopter in the sky, then as he considered, a few bodies in the water. Savino hadnt mentioned a water approach yet, but given that the water was there, he would.
Thats how Savino preferred to work his missions. He outlined, he detailed and he delineated. Then he opened the floor for input. It was one of the many reasons the man was a great leader. He inspired trust and elicited loyalty because he offered his team exactly that.
So it was a piss-off that that trust had been betrayed by one of their own. That the team had landed under investigation because a decorated SEAL played dirty, faking his own death after stealing top secret intel to sell to enemy militants.
Elijah jabbed the paper hard enough to snap his pencil lead. He drew air through his teeth, but it didnt much cool the fury of his thoughts, so he tried a couple more.
A few months back, Savino had led a small covert team in an attempt to locate and detail the traitor. Theyd apprehended his coconspirator, but as far as Elijah knew, the target was still in the wind.
Fucker.
Yo, Lansky murmured, rapping Elijah on the arm with a fresh pencil. He lifted it and one brow, warning Elijah to pull his head out and focus.
With a grimace and a nod of thanks, Elijah took the pencil and a deep breath. Using every iota of training garnered in his years of service and the determined focus thatd gotten him out of the hospital and back on duty eight months ahead of schedule, he gave all his concentration to the briefing.
Though his specialty was cryptology, or deciphering code, Elijah had still taken part in dozens of similar missions in his ten years as a SEAL, so the basics were ingrained and as familiar as his own name.
However, hostage extraction was always a delicate undertaking, and hed been out of the game for a few months, so he took special care in his notes. He crafted suggestions, backup scenarios. After eyeing the schematics of the embassy theyd be infiltrating, he sketched alternate escape routes.
Chances were hed be on the copter, monitoring communications. He knew the wisdom of such an assignment. Hed been sidelined for a while; others had earned the privilege of boots on the ground. And his specialty was, after all, communications.
Still, he chafed at the restriction.
He wantedneededaction.
He had to prove he had what it took. That he was still a SEAL in top form. One of the elite. The best, dammit. He needed to prove it to the team. To Savino.
And, yeah, to himself.
Elijahs pencil flew over the page, lead scratching out a list of reasons to offer his commander to convince the man that Elijah should be part of the ground team. Then Savino began assigning roles.
Lansky, Torres, Prescott, Loudon, Masters, Rengel. Youre on the extraction. Lansky and Masters will enter here and here. He tapped the blueprint of the embassy with his stylus so the screen lit with red dots. Then he tapped again to light four green dots near the delivery docks. Prescott, Torres, Rengel and Loudon, youll come in from the water.
He finished with, Danby, Ward, Powers, youre in the air with Jarrett.
He was on the ground? Not in the air? Hell, yeah, his mind celebrated. His first mission back on active duty since hed damn near exploded into a few hundred painful pieces, and he wasnt holed up in the back seat. Nope, hed be right there in the thick of the action. Right there, where it was all going down, he thought, rubbing a hand over his thigh.
Elijahs other hand gripped his pencil so tightly that he flattened the wood, destroying it with a resounding crack. Yeah, hed smile. Just as soon as his gut unclenched.
Any questions?
A few men shook their heads. Others silently gathered their notes. A couple simply waited.
Torres, Lansky, Loudon, Prescott and Ward, remain. Everyone else, dismissed, Savino barked, releasing all the men except the members of Poseidon.
* * *
NIC SAVINO GLANCED at the clock, confirming that he was right on schedule. He patiently waited for the room to clear of everyone but his elite team. Even as some men moved out, others moved in until there were thirteen of them in all.
He glanced at Jarrett, who clung to the chair as if he knew they all wanted him gone. He looked like a grumpy bulldog guarding his favorite bone.
Comfy, Captain? Savino asked, his words calm and his expression pleasant.
Orders are orders, Savino, Jarrett said, rising to speak in Savinos ear. The man kept his words pitched low, as if trying to keep them from the rest of the room. Ridiculous, since Poseidon heard everything.
From the expression on the mens faces, they definitely heard. And didnt like. Savino could relate.
But, as Jarrett said, orders were orders. And Admiral Cree had decreed that until Ramsey was in the brig and Poseidon in the clear, theyd have company. So Savino gestured to the chair and suggested the man sit back down. After all, it wasnt Jarretts fault that the team was under supervision.
Savino was a man who epitomized control. Some would say it was his trademark. Hed used it, and rigid focus, to form a team of special operatives, skilled assets, into even more. Poseidon was the elite among the elite. Unlike DEVGRU, the Navys Special Warfare Development Group, Poseidon wasnt open for applications. It was composed of men hed handpicked ten years before. Men who had, over the course of a decade, trained together, fought together, bled together, until they were, essentially, one.
And now that one was threatened.
Gentlemen, in case you didnt notice, weve earned ourselves a babysitter. The room buzzed with mutters and complaints. Savino waited for it to ebb before inclining his head in agreement. Captain Jarrett will be monitoring missions for the next little while. The team and Poseidon have been officially cleared of wrongdoing in the Ramsey situation, but there are some in Naval Investigation who dont accept the official stand.
Im not here to interfere or horn in on the workings of Poseidon, Jarrett said, addressing the entire room. Ill do whatever I can to help clear the team, to get you guys back to business as usual.
Wanting to believe that, Savino nodded. Then, skilled at moving past paineven when it was a pain in his asshe got back to the duty at hand.
To bring everyone up to speed, Ill recap the details of our current situation. These details are for Poseidon ears only, he said as the men prepared to take mental notes. Everyone put away their papers, pens and electronics. Theyd work from memory on this one.
As you all know, we encountered an incident last February on a routine mission. During the extraction of a kidnapped scientist, a militant base exploded, the fire severely injuring a SEAL. He inclined his head toward Prescott, who, according to the doctors, was lucky to be alive. The explosion was said to destroy the formula for a potential chemical weapon and killed numerous militants, including the jihad leader and, to all appearances, one of our own.
The words to all appearances caused a stir. Nobody spoke; nobody even moved. But the room came to attention.
Under CIA orders and pursuant to NI protocols an investigation was launched on SEAL Team 7 and, more specifically, on Poseidon.
Savino laid it all out. The chemical formula had been coded with a time stamp thatd put its theft at the exact time of their mission, implicating the team when its sale was discovered.
Sir, Loudon interrupted. Why would Naval Investigation be looking at us for the theft? Itd make more sense to look to the militants themselves for the theft and sale of that formula.
It would, if not for the fact that the sale was to a tribe that group has been at war with for centuries. Savino named the tribe, which elicited grimaces from most of his men. Because there was ugly, and there was ugly. And this group of militants had one goal and one goal only: world annihilation.
To date, five more incidents have been traced back to SEAL missions in which weapons, information or technology was sold. Of those, three missions were led by Poseidon.
The tension was so tight it was as if the room had turned into a vise. Savino didnt need to look around to see the mens reactions. He could feel them. Hell, he had them.
Fury, betrayal and just a hint of worry.
Only a stupid man thought he was invincible. Only an arrogant man thought his mantle of right protected him from persecution. Even Jarrett grimaced, his jowls tight as he shook his head in disgust.
I dont have to tell you the ramifications of an NI investigation. Savino slid a sideways glance at Jarrett. Babysitters were only the beginning, he knew. The damage that it can cause to a career, or in this case, to the very existence of Poseidon.
Giving up his spot behind the podium, Savino paced in front of it as he continued the briefing.
Funds for the chemical weapons sale were traced to an account under Ramseys name as well as a civilian. The account is still in active use despite his supposed death. Further investigation cleared the civilian. His gaze cut to Torres, whod led that investigation and was now engaged to marry the civilian. But it resulted in the kidnapping of Ramseys son. A team retrieved the child and detained Petty Officer Dane Adams, who while implicating himself and Ramsey, indicates that there are others still involved.
Who?
Savinos fists clenched behind his back as he paced, wondering for the hundredth time since this had begun what the hell NI had on Poseidon that made them so sure his team was dirty. Hed dug deep himself, but he hadnt come up with a damned thing.
While we do not have confirmation that Ramsey is still alive, NI assumes that he is. Savino paused, taking the time to look from man to man, meeting each of their eyes, deepening their connection.
I want him found. I want him taken down and made answerable for his crimes. Crimes against his country, against his uniform and, yes, against this team. He tried to set up one of our own. He tried to take down Poseidon. He leaned back against the podium now, his usually unreadable face a study of icy fury. Somehow, he got past us. He not only carried out treasonous actions under our very noses, but he thinks that he got away with them. We need to correct that, gentlemen.
Whats the plan? Torres asked. Rightfully, as far as Savino was concerned, since he was the one whod been specifically framed to take the fall a few months back.
In addition to continuing with your current assignment, each of you will be taking on additional tasks. These tasks are Code Red, gentlemen. Meaning they didnt disclose them, not even to one another. They reported directly to Savino, and everything was done in person. No emails, no phone calls, no handwritten notes. Poseidon has one goal now, gentlemen. To take down Ramsey and whoever else is involved. As of now, Operation Fuck Up is in effect.
* * *
ONE THING ABOUT SEALS, they were hell on multitasking. Operation Fuck Up might be in effect, but members of Poseidon and SEAL Team 7 had other missions to carry out. So while time was devoted to tracking their treasonous teammate, the rest of their focus was on the current assignment.
When breaking into another countrys embassy on foreign soil, stealth was the keyword. When breaking in with the objective of covertly extracting a man slated for execution, a sticky layer of diplomacy was wrapped around the stealth. The priority was retrieving the hostage. Secondary was doing so without taking lives.