The Soul of a SEAL Read online

  From the corner of her eye, she watched Yuri and Wang pass too close together. They exchanged a note, and her eyes widened as she realized how she’d been used. Stepping to a quiet spot in the room, she said softly, “Covert mode, Sally. Please monitor Yuri and Wang and tell me what the note says, the one they just passed.”

  Affirmative, Sally texted back to her.

  Kimberly put her phone to sleep and tucked it back into her pocket. She gritted her teeth. One way or another, she would be outing those two and whatever they were doing. Given all the delays and problems, no one was above suspicion.

  * * *

  Spending time with Kimberly had turned out to be a plus. Bennett had no idea what she’d planned when she pulled him away from his calculations, and yet he couldn’t have been more delighted. Another hour or two together in the weightless room would have been ideal, but he understood that she had demands on her time. What was frustrating him the most about this place and the situation was that he hadn’t made any progress in discovering the source of the sabotage or who had killed his brethren. He needed those answers.

  His fingers rolled into fists. Allowing his feet to move him quickly to his destination was burning off some much-needed steam, but it wasn’t getting him closer to the truth.

  The hallways ran together as if a maze in a white-walled prison. The Lester Facility was a sterile environment, and without the handy-dandy map on his phone, Bennett would have been walking back and forth, attempting to locate his Teammate. “Sally, show me where Melo, Kimberly, and Kess are located.”

  Mini versions of them showed on his phone. They were all in one place. Well, that can’t be good. Just as quickly as they showed up, the images faded away, but it was long enough to figure out where they were.

  He scanned his badge at the appropriate door and walked into a room that was filled with people. All of them sported some type of computer or tablet. Every nationality was represented. Spying Kimberly arguing with someone in Russian was interesting, and when she pulled another person into the conversation, flawlessly switching to Mandarin Chinese, he was duly impressed. Granted, he spoke Arabic, Spanish, and French, but he was always ready to learn more languages, skills, or pretty much anything useful in life.

  His eyes moved to Melo, who was working his way through the crowd toward a door at the back of the room. Bennett followed, weaving in and out of the folks who could have been part of a United Nations delegation as far as he was concerned, and left them behind. His gut told him that the SEAL deaths were personal. They had to be. That meant someone in the Lester Facility knew something.

  As Bennett entered the next room, he could see Melo with his phone to his ear. The frown and furrowed brow were not a welcome expression.

  Bennet closed the door behind him and asked, “What did you find?”

  “Listen for yourself.” The phone played back a conversation between two very well-spoken individuals. Very convenient that the record function was just a click away.

  “Good call on covertly recording conversations.”

  Melo laughed. “Sally helped me. She can play back everything and anything. You just need a time and location.”

  “Good to know.” Bennett leaned forward. “Wait, I didn’t catch the last part of the conversation. What was it?” He had a sinking feeling about the voices. “Wait. I’ve heard one of those voices before.”

  “It’s the IT guy who brought us laptops, and he’s speaking with a scientist—Rigley—who’s in charge of the manual-override system for the shuttle. He was confirming a piece of debris they’d retrieved from a test flight. It was part of an antisatellite weapon, but the country of origin is sketchy.”

  “Fuck. That’s…unnerving. Uh, why do they think it’s from another country?”

  “You know that China launched several weapons into geosynchronous orbit in 2013.” Melo looked peeved. “Something about that fight between Yuri and Wang was…off.”

  “I agree. But who doesn’t know the facts of those weapons tests? It’s old news. Public knowledge. Hell, 20/20 and 60 Minutes covered it in lengthy segments,” stated Bennett. “Maybe it’s just a feeling, but I think there are more than one or two individuals. I think there’s a group here that’s trying to undermine this mission for their own purposes. Let’s keep an eye on those two—Yuri and Wang—and add Kess to the mix. I don’t trust that guy.” Bennett chuckled to himself. “Sally, can you covertly monitor the activity of the IT guy who gave us our laptops, and Rigley, too? Only share this information with Melo and me.”

  “Confirmed, Captain Sheraton.” The computer’s voice was eerily sweet and amenable.

  “Hey, I have to talk to you about the calculations I worked out. There’s something off with the weight allotment and required fuel. I think someone’s trying to haul something else into space. We need to get in that shuttle.”

  “I’m working on it,” said Melo. “Your best bet is to go through Dr. Warren. Hate to put you in that position, but your friendliness with her could play in our favor here.”

  “Maybe,” said Bennett. He hated having to use her, but they needed to get inside. There had to be answers in the shuttle itself. “Let’s see where we go from here.” His fingers flew over the keyboard as he typed in a series of commands, attempting to uncover any data that might have been left behind by his SEAL brethren. Leaving Sally to work on the program he’d just entered, he turned his attention back to the piloting specifications.

  “Can you find Hubbard and get his permission to enter the quarters of our deceased brothers? I need to head back to the conference room and see if I can catch Kimberly for a few minutes.”

  Melo smirked. “I bet.” He nodded his head. “I’m on it. Get out of here.”

  Bennett got to his feet and left. The conference room was completely cleared out, as if someone had rung the dinner bell. Toppled chairs and tables, ripped papers, and abandoned coffee cups made the place look like a geeks’ abandoned war zone. He made his way through the debris and into the hall.

  Heading back to his set of rooms, he passed several interesting characters along the way: Yuri, who was smoking a cigarette openly as Sally berated him via his phone, and Kess, who was chatting with Rigley. Add Wang and few others who looked sideways at them, and that was a likely bunch to start with.

  He pondered the probabilities of their involvement as he entered his room. Sitting down at the computer, he wrote several brief notes to himself and Melo.

  * * *

  Ring. Ring. The sound of the door chime shook him. He’d dozed off as he worked. Had he heard Melo come in? It felt vaguely familiar. He could see the man, lying prone. If there had been trouble, he would have come fully awake. Danger felt different, shocked the senses. Familiarity—or at least, calm situations—bred comfort. It was as if you could discern the energy charge in the air.

  Rubbing the back of his neck, he chased away some of the stiffness. Both his mind and body were spent. Too little sleep and too much brain strain had him tied in knots. As his body stirred he noted that the side trips had been a workout too. Kimberly was a nice surprise after his long absence from the fairer sex, but how on earth was he going to plow through this mess in a short time frame? “Who’s at the door, Sally?” he asked.

  “The scientists for your next test are outside your door,” said the computer-simulated voice. “Would you like me to send them away?”

  He grunted. He wanted to answer in the affirmative, and yet he didn’t want to jeopardize his standing in the competition for the pilot’s seat.

  A note fell off his chest. He recognized Melo’s handwriting: 0700 Access Granted. So Melo had sweet-talked the facility manager into letting them examine the quarters. Well, that was good news. He wadded up the note and tossed it at Melo’s head. It bounced off and hit the ground.

  Bennett smiled. Damn, that man was a good faker. Bennett knew he was awake. Grabbing h
is clothes off the chair, Bennett dressed quickly. Walking to the portal, he stared at the closed door for a few seconds, prepping mentally, and then said, “Open.”

  Chapter 5

  Bennett rubbed his arms. Cold air blew continually through the hallways as wireless sweepers and mops moved soundlessly over the floors. At 0100 the three white-coated scientists led him into the bowels of the center of the building and, after a rather circular course, into a very small, strange room. Building materials poked out of the wall in an odd, symmetrical pattern of angles. In the center of the room was a tank full of water with two pieces of white cloth slung over the side.

  Great! Was he going to have to bathe in front of these guys? How far up were they going to be into his business? Even he had a few boundaries left in life. Well, maybe…

  One of the scientists cleared his throat. “Sir, would you please disrobe?” They pointed in unison at the tank, and Bennett wondered if he was in some kind of warped dream about lunatics and crazed scientists. Had Melo spiked his Tang? He wouldn’t put it past his Teammate. This was a “race” to see which one of them was going to make the trip into space, and one of them wasn’t.

  Looking out of the corner of his eye at the men, he wondered if they were going to watch him. Was there some way to cheat when one was getting naked?

  Bennett stalled for time. He made a show of scratching his nose, noticing that there wasn’t any odor in this room. There was an industrial-cleaner smell throughout the Lester Facility, as though the place was continually being scrubbed and sterilized.

  “What’s up?” asked Bennett casually, trying to lighten the mood. “Or rather, what’s down…there?” He pointed to the tank. “Can you give me an idea of what’s going on here? What am I supposed to do?”

  The three men frowned as if they were all Grumpy from Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs. This was a space-exploration group; there was a lot to be happy about here.

  “Captain Sheraton, you’ve been asleep for fifty-seven minutes. Sally informed us of your rest period, and according to our tests, this is an optimal time to challenge your sleep deprivation, or Sleep Dep, skills,” said the shorter man, whose ID badge read Dorner, Caleb. “This is a required test for our shuttle-pilot program. Did you or did you not agree to all of the testing for this assignment? Being a pilot is an honor any one of us would give our eyes, teeth…hell, our whole jaw for.”

  Bennett sighed. From the looks these men were giving him, the test was not optional. He needed time to discover who murdered his Teammates and find the saboteur. He made a last-ditch attempt. “While I can appreciate this test, you do know that I’m a SEAL. Sleep Dep is part of our training, boys. Dang, it’s like the root of Hell Week.” Of course his brain was still rolling around the fact that these men were monitoring him and his sleep patterns. Who else was?

  The taller man tapped his electronic pen against the tablet. “We have four more of these to do, Captain. In or out.”

  Leaning forward, Bennett caught the tall guy’s name. “I’m in. Allen, Parker.”

  “Everything off, and put on the white clothing,” said the tall man as he gestured for the others to follow him. “All you are required to do is lie down in the water. We cannot explain anything further, as it would compromise the final result.”

  Bennett raised an eyebrow. “How long do I stay in the tank?”

  Their faces were blank. None of them answered him.

  Bennett shrugged and kicked off his shoes, then stripped off his button-down shirt and pants—not that he’d had much time to dress before these guys had rung the buzzer on his door. Melo! Sheesh! That SEAL who couldn’t be bothered to crack an eyelid as Bennett was being dragged out. Bennett had seen the cruel little smile on Melo’s lips and the way his body shook with mirth as if he knew something was going to happen.

  Crap! Bennett hated being the last person to know.

  He held up the white T-shirt. Hardware was laced into the cotton weave covering his chest and back, moving up his neck, and going over his head. If this stuff was on the white underwear too, he was not putting that thing on. Who knew what it would do? He was a commando guy anyway, sans underwear, and had been since Hell Week.

  Finally, fitted with the hardware, he stepped into the tank. It sloped downward like a luge prepared to plummet down a mountain, or some other kind of tin casket. The water sloshed around him as he lowered himself until only his face was in the air and the rest of him was covered in water.

  The men left the room, quietly satisfied that nothing had been secreted into the test. Of course, they hadn’t looked that closely. He could be hiding things in places very few individuals would look, though he wasn’t.

  The hardware spun to life, creating a low, rhythmic vibration and hum, and then the noise and movement abruptly ceased. Bennett tapped his fingers on the instruments to no avail. He gave up and took in the room.

  He studied the angles of the insulation around the room. It looked like a combination of fiberglass, concrete, and metal, and he sussed out the purpose as it dawned on him. He was in a small anechoic chamber, which changes the acoustics in a room, minimizing sound until there is practically none. He’d read about this type of chamber. His mind darted in a hundred directions as his eyes examined the layout. The angles and design were fascinating now, and he attempted to memorize the pattern and the manner in which the sound would hit the angles, be deflected and/or absorbed, and so on until there was no sound left.

  The lights lowered, fading the images, and Bennett found himself eager to maintain a focus on those designs: the angles, the textures, and the shapes…something.

  C-a-l-m. He mentally spelled out the word and his brain responded. Forcing himself to redirect his thoughts, he closed his eyes and slowed his breathing. Remembering a meditation he had done on the first night of a Sleep Dep test in training, he played with his breathing, listening to the sound, making it go faster and slower until he was so relaxed that his mind was eager to drift.

  He didn’t allow it. Instead, he tracked the blood flow and musculature of his body—wiggling his toes, feet, knees, hips, waist, etc., until he created waves. The lapping was almost instantly absorbed, but he was ground zero, and the sensation begot the sound even if it was pulled away.

  Moving to an old sniper trick, he recited the Declaration of Independence and the Constitution. Some guys liked to count or do arithmetic in their heads, but Bennett found it too distracting. Being a patriot and a history buff, he preferred the Founding Fathers’ words, as they often gave him clarity during times in which there was none.

  As his mind spun through each article of the Constitution, the lights sprang on suddenly, jolting him into a sitting position. Bennett sat up, shading his eyes so he could see who was standing in the doorway.

  The man whose name he hadn’t originally caught was walking toward him. “I’m Dr. Gary Leon. Absolutely amazing test! I’ve never seen anyone stay so calm. It’s a record, you know. Over sixty minutes in the chamber and not one change in your behavior, heart rate, or anything. I’m astounded, simply at a loss for words. Congratulations, Captain Sheraton. Well done, sir!”

  Bennett hauled himself out of the tank, stripping the cotton-covered hardware off his body. Despite his nudity, the other man did not stop speaking. Bennett toweled off his body and wrapped the cotton bath sheet around his hips, tucking the corner into a tight knot at his waist. One hand snagged his shirt and pants as he slipped his feet into the shoes. Who cared if he walked around the Lester Facility in a towel? At Zero Dark Whatever, who gave a crap about etiquette?

  The scientist grabbed his free hand and pumped it heartily. “Amazing! I’m going to write a paper on this. I won’t use any names or the fact that you’re a sailor, but I know it will get a lot of tongues wagging. Perhaps after the mission we can talk about the methods you employed during your time in the tank. I’d be very interested.”

  “Sur
e.” His enthusiasm was a little contagious, and Bennett found himself cracking a grin. What could he say? He’d been like this in BUD/S training too. Not once did he see little green men or hallucinate. Rather, he just maintained this methodical pace, and that had helped him climb the ranks of the Navy from enlisted to officer fairly quickly. Yep, it wasn’t easy to rattle him, and he was grateful for that fact. But maybe he just didn’t have anything important holding him hostage here on Earth either. He was unencumbered, without debt or asset, other than one vehicle and a stash of weapons, and it didn’t matter if he lived or died, except to himself. He liked being alive, so that’s what he was going to be.

  At the back of his head, a voice kicked up a fuss. Those statements weren’t exactly true. He did sort of “like” somebody, but that didn’t really count. Did it?

  Scratching his head, he pondered the idea of another person playing into the equation of his life. He wasn’t sure he liked the idea. On the other hand, did he hate it? Not really, no, it was…okay, he admitted to himself. If he was being honest about it, that is.

  All the way back to his room, Bennett pondered whether getting involved with Dr. Warren was a bad or a good idea. Granted, it had given him carte blanche to everything security-wise at the Lester Facility, and she really did have an inside track on the staff, but she was passionate, cute, smart, and funny too. Sort of a killer combination, if anyone asked his opinion.

  Next to Bennett as he walked, Dr. Leon chatted away, his hands making large gestures. “When I first arrived here, I had no idea I’d be working with an actual anechoic chamber. The largest one is in Orfield Laboratories in Minneapolis. That’s north of us, but you know that. You probably have a GPS or calming program built into your skull like a cyborg soldier. I’ve always wanted to see someone best that test. I tried it once, and it was an utter disaster. I cried and screamed and wet my pants like a two-year-old. Not that all two-year-olds wet their pants, mind you, but I did then. Who knew that silence could be a serious mind twist? When it comes to being trapped in all of that silence, I can’t stop talking. But I think you’ve figured that out about me.”