Clear and present danger - Tom Clancy [250]
Robby Jackson had a two-hour layover before boarding the Air Force C-141B, which with its refueling housing looked rather like a green, swept-wing snake. Also aboard were sixty or so soldiers with full gear. The fighter pilot looked at them with some amusement. This was what his little brother did for a living. A major sat down next to him after asking permission - Robby was two grades higher.
"What outfit?"
"Seventh Light." The major leaned back, trying to get as much comfort as he could. His helmet rested on his lap. Robby lifted it. Shaped much like the German helmet of World War II, it was made of Kevlar, with a cloth camouflage cover around it, and around that, held in place by a green elasticized cloth band, was a medusa-like collection of knotted cloth strips.
"You know, my brother wears one of these things. Heavy enough. What the hell good is it?"
"The Cabbage Patch Hat?" The major smiled, his eyes closed. "Well, the Kevlar's supposed to stop stuff from tearing your skull apart, and the mop we wrap around it breaks up your outline - makes you harder to see in the bush, sir. Your brother's with us, you said?"
"He's a new nugget - second lieutenant I guess you call him - in the, uh, they call it Ninja-something…"
"Three-Seventeen. First Brigade. I'm brigade intel, Second Brigade. What do you do?"
"Serving two-to-three in the Pentagon at the moment. I fly fighter planes when I'm not driving a desk."
"Must be nice to do all your work sitting down," the major observed.
"No." Robby chuckled. "The best part is I can get the hell outa Dodge right quick if I got to."
"Roger that, Captain. What brings you to Panama?"
"We got a carrier group operating offshore. I was down to watch. You?"
"Regular training rotation for one of our battalions. Jungle and tight country is where we work. We hide a lot," the major explained.
"Guerrilla stuff?"
"Roughly similar tactics. This was mainly a reconnaissance exercise, trying to get inside to gather information, conduct a few raids, that sort of thing."
"How'd it go?"
The major grunted. "Not as well as we hoped. We lost some good people out of some important slots - same with you, right? People rotate in, rotate out, and it takes awhile to get the new ones up to speed. Anyway, the reconnaissance units in particular lost some good ones, and it cost us some. That's why we train," the major concluded. "Never stops."
"It's different with us. We deploy as a unit and usually don't lose anybody that way until we come back home."
"Always figured the Navy was smart, sir."
"Is it that bad? My brother told me he lost a really good - squad leader? Anyway, is it that big a deal?"
"Can be. I had a guy named Muñoz, really good man for going in the bushes and finding stuff out. Just disappeared one day, off doing some special-ops shit, they told me. The guy who's in his slot now just isn't that good. It happens. You live with it."
Jackson remembered the name Muñoz, but couldn't remember where from. "How do I arrange transport down to Monterey?"
"Hell, it's right next door. You want to catch a ride with us, Captain? We don't have all the amenities of the Navy, of course."
"We do occasionally rough it, Major. Hell, once I didn't even get my bedsheets changed for three whole days. Same week, they made us eat hot dogs for dinner - never forget that cruise. Real bitch that one was. I presume your jeeps have air conditioning?" The two men looked at each other and laughed.
Ryan was given a suite of rooms one floor up from the Governor's entourage, actually paid for by the campaign, which was quite a surprise. That made security easier. Fowler now had a full Secret Service detail, and would keep it until November, and if he were successful, for four years after that. It was a very nice, modern hotel with thick concrete floors, but the sound of the parties down below made its way through.
There came a knock on Jack's door just as he got out of the shower. The hotel