Danger Close (Shadow Warriors) (26 page)

“I need her, Jim.”

He shook his head. “She’s not up to it, sir.”

“What if she knew of the elaborate precautions we were taking to insure her safety?”

Jim studied his senior officer. With a sinking feeling, he realized Mackey was going to go ahead with the plan with or without him. Would Cathy do it just because Mackey asked her to? Would she hate him?
Probably
. He didn’t blame her. It looked like a setup to anyone with half a grain of intelligence and Cathy was going to add it all up in a hurry. Jim didn’t want the trust that had grown between them destroyed like this. And it would be. He ran his fingers through his hair in an aggravated motion. “I don’t believe she’ll even consider the mission.”

Mackey walked over to the report, struggling for control, trying to use his persuasiveness instead. “Look, Jim, I realize Fremont has come to mean something to you personally. I’m not going to ask how much because it isn’t any of my business. What is my business is running this regiment to the highest standards. And that includes the safety of all my people, including those girls over at Delta. I’m ultimately responsible for them. You aren’t betraying Fremont by asking her to help us. She’s providing an incalculable service to everyone. I promise you can work as closely as you want with the CID people. Hell, I’ll even throw in a QRF, quick reaction force, on standby. If Lane thinks she can jeopardize Fremont’s life, she’s mistaken. I’ll put you in charge of that team. And, if necessary, you can bust in right on top of them and arrest anyone who is threatening the girl.” He walked to the chair and sat down.

“Lane won’t try to harm Fremont,” Mackey went on. “She has to keep her KIA’s to a minimum. As much as Fremont might be a thorn in her side, I don’t feel Lane will get rid of her.”

“Not directly,” Jim countered.

Mackey held his stare and said, “Lane can’t afford to have any of her girls dead. Every time one dies, it’s blown up in the headlines and it’s a strike against her.”
And me
, he thought angrily. “I need Cathy Fremont alive. If I thought we were putting Fremont in direct line of fire, I wouldn’t ask her to do it. I have no desire to see someone of her caliber killed.”

Jim rubbed his brow. “You’ll kill her in another way, Colonel.”

“Then we’ve got to look at the benefit from Fremont’s sacrifice. Listen to me. If she trusts you, you can support her. And with your support, it may be just the thing that will tip the scales in her favor.”

Boland almost laughed and dropped his hand to his side. His shoulders sloped from the weight of guilt he carried. “Sir, she’ll no more trust me after she finds out about our plan than a mongoose will trust a cobra. I’ll have reinforced her distrust of people in general. And she’ll feel alone again.”

“Perhaps, perhaps…I know it’s a strain on you. And on her. But try to look at the larger picture. You’re both up to the demands of this mission.” He smiled warmly. “And I can guarantee you nothing but excellent 4.0 recommendations from me for your service record when this mission is successfully completed.”

Jim almost choked. Mackey didn’t know he’d made a decision to get out and return to civilian life. Well, that didn’t matter. “I’m sorry, sir. I refuse to continue being a party to this mission. You do whatever you have to, but I won’t involve Cathy Fremont. Not with what I know of her now.” He saw Mackey’s face drain of color and become stonelike. “Permission to leave, sir?” He drew himself to attention.

“Permission denied,” Mackey grated. He came around the desk and glared at Boland. “What makes you think I’m letting you off the hook, Captain? You’re refusing on personal grounds, not military reasons. I won’t let you get away with this. I need Fremont. My back’s up against a deadline. I need the information she can supply to us.”

Boland’s gray eyes turned glacial as he held Mackey’s angry gaze. “Without my assistance, sir, she won’t do anything for you.”

Mackey smiled mirthlessly. “Really? Well, we’ll have to see, won’t we? I’ll ask her myself, when the time’s right.”

Jim remained at rigid attention, feeling Mackey’s fury as never before. He had changed, and it left a sick feeling in Jim’s stomach. “She won’t go through with it, sir.”

“Captain, your opinion is no longer welcomed. Dismissed.”

CATHY WAS ROUSED out of the few hours’ sleep she was trying to grab after a night of sporadic shelling. The heavy roar of a group of several Chinook transport helicopters flying very low and fast toward the Alpha LZ brought her awake. She sat up, rubbing her bloodshot eyes. Leaning out of her hootch, she saw Billy and Gomez going to investigate the early-morning landing. Grumpily, she got up to join them, throwing on her flak jacket and shoving the cap down on her head. She caught up with them at the bottom of the hill.

“Who are they?” she asked.

“Dunno, El Gato. They’re not our guys.”

“Amy Rangers,” Arnley growled, joining them.

Cathy frowned. “What are they doing here?”

“They might as well be in enemy territory now. Rangers and Recons don’t get along in any way, shape or form,” the sergeant said, spitting out an old chaw and replacing it with a new one.

Cathy smiled. The Rangers off-loading from the Chinooks were gruff, cocky bastards in their tiger black-and-gray-striped jungle uniforms. Turning, she looked up to see Jim at her side.

“Good morning,” he said, studying her still-sleepy face.

Cathy smiled a wordless acknowledgment, feeling his closeness in the chilled morning air.

Her attention was drawn to a supercilious sergeant. He could be a poster boy for a U.S. Army advertisement: crew cut blond hair, icy blue eyes, perfect Grecian features and built like a brick outhouse. She laughed out loud.

The sergeant’s head snapped up, centering on the team standing no more than fifty feet away. “Who’s laughing?” he roared, halting in front of them. His eyes blazed with hawkish intensity as he raked the Recons. “Come on, which one of you lily-livered bastards is laughing at a Ranger?”

Cathy stepped forward, her head just coming level with his shoulder. She looked up, a cockeyed smile on her mouth. “I did, Sergeant. You look like a poster child for an Army ad.”

He did a double take, stepping back for a better look. “Who in the hell are you? A goddamn war correspondent?”

“No. I’m Corporal Fremont of the WLF on transfer to Alpha Company.”

Gomez groaned and rolled his eyes. The sergeant was bristling for a fight by the way his body hunkered down. The Ranger’s face worked into an ugly sneer and he took the pains to spit down at her dirt-encrusted boots.

“One of those bitches who says she can fight?” he roared, laughing as his team of four men gathered around. “You goddamn women ain’t nothin’ but a bunch of cherries playin’ at being soldier. You couldn’t kill a fly.”

Before Cathy could reply, Arnley was there, grabbing the sergeant by his collar and shoving him back into the arms of his grinning team.

“Nobody spits on any member of my squad,” he rasped, jabbing his finger up under the Ranger’s nose.

Boland leaped forward, pulling them apart. Cathy watched the officer gain control of the situation quickly and firmly. Jim did not stand as tall as the angry sergeant, but the tone of his voice was enough to make her shiver.

“I think Rangers have better things to do, Sergeant. There won’t be any trouble.”

“I demand an apology,” Cathy interceded, stepping abreast of him.

Boland jerked a look in her direction. A wicked half smile played on her mouth. “No one spits at me or calls me a cherry, Sergeant. Not even a Ranger. You may be a big shit in the jungle, fella, but around here you hang no higher or lower than any other man.” And then, as she turned away, Cathy added over her shoulder, “On second thought, you look like the type that hangs a lot shorter….”

Boland didn’t have time to groan inwardly over her choice of words. The sergeant lunged at Cathy, who easily stepped aside. She laughed throatily, her eyes shining with mischief.

Gomez whooped. “Get ’em, El Gato!”

Billy guffawed. “Atta girl, Cathy!”

“Get the big bastard, Cathy!” Townsend yelled.

Boland gripped her arm and yanked her to his side and placed himself as a barrier between her and the purple-faced sergeant. He shoved his hand into the sergeant’s powerful chest, stopping his forward movement.

“You want to settle this?” Boland demanded tightly. Damn Cathy, anyway!

“Yes, sir, we do,” roared the Ranger, breathing like an infuriated bull.

In childish delight, Cathy stuck out her tongue at him, thoroughly enjoying the NCO’s antics. “So do I!”

“I want a knife fight!” the sergeant snarled.

“No!
” Boland snapped.

“Yes!” Cathy laughed. “You have something to lose if I cut it off.”

The entire Marine Recon team broke up into guffaws of laughter.

Cursing, Jim’s grip tightened around Cathy’s arm. She finally stood still. The sergeant was huffing like a runaway steam engine, breathing hard over him, glaring murderously at Cathy. “How long are you and your team going to be here?” Boland growled.

“Until 1100. Sir.”

Jim jerked a look at Cathy, who was grinning like an idiot.

“How about pistols at thirty paces. Your Army cream puffs ought to be able to handle that,” Cathy prodded.

“That’s
enough!
” Boland roared. The Ranger backed off, momentarily mollified. “You want a rifle competition?”

Cathy smiled sweetly, her eyes never leaving the sergeant. “You bet I do. I propose all positions—off-hand, prone, sitting and kneeling at 500 yards with three shots for each position. If you outshoot me, Sergeant, I’ll apologize.” She smiled slyly. “But if I win, and I will, you give me and every man in our team an apology for all the rotten things you’ve said about us. Agreed?”

The Ranger threw back his shoulders, laughing. “You got a deal, little girl.” And then he snarled, “Sweet Cheeks, you ain’t got one chance in hell of winning.”

Cathy chuckled. “Fine, you go right on thinking that.” She looked over at Boland. “What time?”

Boland looked at his watch. “Make it 0830. That gives you an hour to get ready.”

He glanced over at the plum-colored sergeant. “Meet us in back of the Mess area. I’ll get my men to set up the course.”

“Fine with me, sir.”

“And you?” Boland demanded, glaring at Cathy.

She shrugged gaily. “Super. Just super.”

The captain nodded. “Both of you damn well better be there,” he breathed angrily, turning and yanking Cathy along, the rest of the team falling in around them.

Cathy knew Jim was pissed off by the way his mouth compressed into a set line. She began to laugh softly.

Gomez jogged up alongside them. “You’d better be a crackerjack shot, El Gato. Those Rangers are experts with
all
kinds of weapons.”

Cathy sneaked a look up at Boland, who was pretending she didn’t exist. “I’m the best, Gomez. And he’s going to eat his words,” she yelled triumphantly. Even Arnley grinned sourly, hiding his pleasure over her unexpected boldness.

Jim watched from a distance as Arnley’s team prepared for the rifle match. The entire first platoon had gathered around Cathy’s hootch and watched her field strip her M16 and lovingly put it back together again, adjusting the sights. Several gave her individual instructions on how to shoot with windage, elevation, drawing a bead and the importance of absolute stillness of her body.

He watched as Arnley stalked the outskirts like a mother hen—never taking part, but there, just the same. Boland grinned and shook his head. Maybe this was just what the men needed to pull them together as a unit—Cathy finally included as one of the “guys.”

After most of the men drifted away, Arnley finally came to roost and stood above her.

“You said you were the best, Fremont. By whose standards?” he demanded.

“I outshot every Marine at Camp Pendleton the month the WLF graduated. Major Lane wanted her best to brag on and show off to the press. I’m the best.”

Arnley was not detoured. “What were your scores?”

Cathy treated his questions with respect. This was the first time Arnley had shown her any direct attention and she did not want to spoil the fragile bond beginning to form between them. “In all four positions at 400 yards with an M16, I missed two out of twenty and both of them were in the off-hand position.”

Arnley rubbed his jaw. “That’s a hell of a score.”

She met his assessing eyes. “I’m not lying about it, Sergeant Arnley. I
am
a good shot. I was toting a .30-06 out in the woods when I was twelve years old and bringing meat home for the dinner table.”

He nodded, a slow smile beginning to touch the edges of his mouth. “I believe you, Fremont. Now, tell me why you started a ruckus with that Ranger.”

Her green eyes sparkled and she got to her feet. “I didn’t want to string concertina wire today?”

Arnley spit to the left, appraising her with amusement. “Okay, Fremont, let’s get over there. I’ll be your spotter.”

Bets on the rifle competition had brought everyone out of the sack early. Money traded hands like wildfire. There were few things to break the monotony of regiment life unless one counted rocket attacks. By the time 0830 came, Boland had watched his company act as bookies for the entire regiment. The radio was hot even to Ban Pua and Bangkok with bets pouring in ten to one in favor of the Ranger. He saw Colonel Mackey coming down from the chopper pad and decided he’d better intercept him.

“Jim, what in the hell is this about Fremont and a Ranger?” he demanded gruffly. “My HQ people are going nuts over there.”

Boland grinned. “Cathy hurt the sergeant’s feelings earlier,” he explained, leaving out none of the details concerning the confrontation.

Mackey took off his cap, scratching his balding head. “I’ll be damned.”

Proudly escorted to the range by her own team, Cathy walked beside Arnley’s left shoulder. He was serious looking as ever. As they arrived, Cathy felt as if someone had grabbed her heart and squeezed it. There was Major Lane and her fellow officers standing to one side of the range. The expectation and glee were written all over Lane’s face. She knew just how good Cathy was when it came to target shooting.