Hot Zone (5 page)

* * *

Grosjean had been added to a team of Legionnaires who were to rescue a high-profile French Diplomat who had been taken hostage by a band of Lebanese militia. Their plan was to infiltrate the small town of Ain el Rihani, located just outside the Lebanese capital of Beirut and take the militia's underground bunker, where intelligence had said the Diplomat was being held. What the Legionnaires hadn't expected was to walk into a hail storm of land mines and machine gun fire. Somehow, still unknown to the Legion, the militia had been tipped off and had carefully laid out a trap for the Legionnaire team.

Grosjean had tried to drink the memories away over the years, but still they held to his consciousness like crazy glue. He could never forget stumbling through the Lebanese highlands while three large blisters the size of French franc coins formed on his feet. He was tough but it didn't matter.

He later remembered telling new recruits that toughness or size did not count when it came to blisters, "Give me the biggest, toughest man in the world, let me put a couple of blisters on his feet and make him walk fifteen kilometers and watch him fall, crying like a baby." He once told students. "Take care of the feet, break in your boots well and fast."

With his feet sending shock waves of pain through his body he stayed close to the backs of nine Legionnaires as they trekked for twenty-one kilometers to the outskirts of the small town.

A lookout for the militia had seen the men appear on the horizon, alerting the soldiers to take their positions. Fifty Lebanese militants spread themselves throughout the town, waiting for the French soldiers to walk into their trap.

The militants would surround them and then destroy them. The French didn't know that their Diplomat had already been murdered, throat slit from ear to ear. A video of the act had been sent to the French government. They would receive it ten days later.

The Legionnaires stealthily made their way into the town under the cover of darkness. Grosjean grew increasingly anxious about going into a hot zone.

This was at a time when Beirut was hell on earth while the world watched the war on television and watched Beirut being bombed daily, sometimes by it's own and sometimes not. Grosjean, though he had joined the Legion to protect his beloved France was not prepared to die just yet, especially to rescue some Diplomat who was useless to the cause.

As the team moved down through the city it happened.

With no warning gunfire erupted from the shadows of buildings all around the Legionnaires. The two lead men were cut down where they stood, their bodies torn apart by a hail of bullets. The other's scattered for cover in all directions.

Grosjean and his cover man made a mad dash for a parked car on a side street when the two where thrown to the ground by a thunderous explosion. When Grosjean was able to lift his head from the gravel road he saw his cover man lying on the ground clutching the fleshy stump that remained on his left leg. He had stepped on a land mine the militia had planted especially for the Legion team. Grosjean wanted to help his winger but no sooner was he downed the militia opened fire on the fallen soldier, shredding his body with gunfire. Grosjean fled, blisters an all from the city as he heard the gunfire ring out behind him, bullets whizzing by his ears. His entire team slaughtered in a matter of moments.

Grosjean was not going to launch a fight he could not win.

For three days Marc Grosjean hid out in the highlands around Beirut until he was able to hitch a ride to the Legion's quarters in the small town of Alshouf, where he was treated for exposure and debriefed by lead intelligence Legionnaires.

Grosjean was seen as a hero just for escaping and being able to survive on instinct alone in a hostile territory. For his heroics he was awarded the new title of Caporal, the equivalent to Corporal and two levels of rank higher then where he had entered the Legion and was also given a Medal of Honor.

* * *

Grosjean stepped into the small Zodiac and powered away from the Rainbow Warrior Jr trying to shake off memories of those horrifying days in Beirut, all the while struck with the curiosity of what had befallen the environmentalists out at sea.

Another thing to consider was the almost certain fact that the Americans would get involved and what part they would play in either solving the mystery or hindering his investigation. There was also the small nuclear test he was preparing his men for.

It was going to be a tough couple of days for Marc Grosjean.

Real tough.

5

Jordan was captivated by the wondrous sea of blue that stretched out for miles in every direction below her. Every so often a tiny green island laced with pearly white sand would flash underneath the Black Hawk as it sped towards the USS Kitty Hawk. As promised the Navy had set Jordan up with new clothes, khaki shorts and shirt and they also provided her with a wet suit for the diving she would have to do if the SEAL team felt it was safe.

For her part, Jordan was cooperating the best she could under the circumstances and admitted to being excited with what Montoya had found at the same time being happy to work with her old boss again. She had been flattered he would request her to come and assist in the find.

In the distance a small gray speck appeared, Jordan knew what it was immediately, the Kitty Hawk. One of the US Navy's premier aircraft carriers the Kitty Hawk was nothing short of a floating city.

Its crew was made up of pilots, navigators, engineers, cooks, deck hands, and of course the Admiral. All in all over two thousand men lived on the Kitty Hawk at any given time.

The Kitty Hawk was on its way back to San Diego and had one last stop to make when the incident with the Greenpeace ship occurred.

After picking up the SEAL team in Tahiti it changed its course and headed for Mururoa. The US Navy did not want to upset the French by driving their carrier right into their exclusion zone so they pulled the carrier fifty miles off the Atoll. That was as close as they were going to be able to get the SEAL's without announcing their presence, or worse, causing an international incident. Besides, they didn't really want the French knowing they were there investigating. The Legion had already impounded the Magnum and the body of Art Montoya; the recovery of both was going to be left in the hands of US Diplomats.

Hovering above the landing pad of the Kitty Hawk, Jordan was suddenly overwhelmed by the size of the ship. She had to slap herself to make sure she wasn't dreaming. She had come a long way from the small Indian girl living on a reservation in the middle of the Arizona Desert. She hoped her parents would be proud.

And then: touchdown.

* * *

Below deck in the Kitty Hawk's war room Ice Riley was surveying the area surrounding the Atoll with his team. They had been told about the disappearance of the divers, the fatal wounds inflicted on Montoya and the discovery he had claimed to have made shortly before his death.

"This is what I don't understand." Skip said. "What the hell bit this guy’s leg off? The water is too warm around here for any sort of shark except maybe, and only maybe a tiger shark or reef shark."

Ice nodded: "I know, all I can think of is there's a rogue shark out there. What I do know is we take spear guns and we watch each six of us when we do the dive. I've been shot at a million times, I'm not going out like
that
."

"Amen." Shooter chimed in.

Ice looked at his watch and then to the door of the war room, then said. "There's one thing I forgot to tell you guys."

Right on queue Jordan Pryde entered the room with two sailors and Mark Stevenson, who had escorted her from New Mexico.

All six of the SEAL's looked at Jordan, and then each other. They were professionals but they were also men who had not seen a woman, and an attractive one at that, for months.

"Riley, this is Dr Jordan Pryde, the archaeologist Montoya requested. She will be going with you to Mururoa." Stevenson said without saluting. Navy SEAL's did not bother to salute each other, the unspoken respect they had for one another didn't warrant it.

"Guys, Jordan is the Head of Archaeology at the University of New Mexico. She is here to help in your findings, should you come across any. I trust you will pay her the appropriate respect."

Ice stepped up to Jordan, shaking her hand. "Dr Pryde, nice to meet you." He said, looking her deep in the eyes. He felt an instant connection.

"You too." Jordan was impressed with Ice instantly, he was attractive, polite and exuded confidence. "Where is Dr Montoya?" She asked.

"Maybe you should take a seat, we will brief you on what's taken place." Stevenson said, pointing to an empty seat at the end of the table.

Jordan knew immediately what that meant, not answering her question could only mean something had happened to Montoya but she said nothing as she made her way past the SEAL's to the end of the table and took a seat.

What she heard after she sat down shocked her to the core. Montoya and his dive team had been attacked by something, most likely a shark and Montoya had been the only one to survive the attack long enough to reach the boat. The SEAL team was confident that the shark would not be in the area when they planned to dive, and even if it did show it's jaws they were sure they could handle a rogue shark with the weapons they planned on taking with them.

Montoya had reported in his distress call of finding something on the bottom of the ocean, something worthy of dragging Jordan out here. She could not wait to get out there and see what it was. The Navy had pin-pointed the location of the distress call and even though the boat would not be there they knew exactly where they had to dive from the satellite information gathered when the initial signal had come in.

The plan was to go the thirty-eight miles via two zodiacs in the dead of night to avoid detection from the French. If conditions permitted they would dive at dawn and begin the search for the dive team as well as the discovery Montoya had claimed to have made. Jordan would be glued to Ice at all times. She was critical to the mission and Ice was intent on ensuring her safety.

A wave of nausea built up in Jordan as she listened to Ice. Was she going to dive with killer sharks? She'd only been in the ocean once in her life and hadn't seen it on too many other occasions. Jordan questioned whether she had what it would take to see this through. She excused herself from the room for a moment, throwing up in the bathroom opposite the room.

The SEAL's looked at each other, shaking their heads, if she didn’t have the stomach to hear bad news, how would she go on a night dive in enemy waters?

"Jeez, she is hot though, huh?" Roo drooled.

"Crikey's yeah, I reckon." Storm chimed in.

Ice put an end to the wise cracks: "Guys, keep it in your pants. We are going to need this one if we do indeed find something. I want you to protect her like she's the president, like royalty. Are we clear?"

"Yes, sir, we're clear." Shooter spoke for the group.

At that moment Jordan re-entered the room: "Sorry about that, sea sick I guess." And then: "Who's taking care of Dr Montoya's body?"

Ice responded: "The American Ambassador to France is en-route. He will be negotiating the release of both the ship and the remains of Dr Montoya. We will not play a part in that...
we
are not even supposed to be here."

Jordan nodded."I'm ready when you guys are."

"We pull at 02:00, why don't you all go get some sleep, prepare you equipment and we'll meet on deck at midnight."

The men took turns shaking hands with Jordan before retiring for the day; Jordan remained in the room alone with Ice.