Debt of Honor - Tom Clancy [434]
Oreza had been in the bathroom, finishing a needed shower while Burroughs handled the running count on the aircraft in and out of Kobler when the doorbell rang.
"Who are you?"
"Didn't they tell you?" Clark asked, looking around. Who the hell was this guy?
"Reporters, right?"
"Yeah, that's it."
"Okay." Burroughs opened the door with a look up and down the street.
"Who are you, anyway? I thought this was the house of—"
"You're dead!" Oreza was standing in the hall, wearing just khaki shorts, his chest a mass of hair as thick as the remaining jungle on the island. The hair looked especially dark now, with the rest of the man's skin turning rapidly to the color of milk. "You're fuckin' dead!"
"Hi, Portagee," Klerk/Clark/Kelly said with a smile. "Long time."
He couldn't make himself move. "I saw you die. I went to the goddamned memorial service. I was there!"
"Hey, I know you," Chavez said. "You were on the boat our chopper landed on. What the hell is this? You Agency?"
It was almost too much for Oreza. He didn't remember the little one at all, but the big one, the old one, his age, about, was-couldn't be-was. It wasn't possible. Was it?
"John?" he asked after a few seconds of further incredulity.
It was too much for the man who used to be known as John Kelly. He set his bag down and came over to embrace the man, surprised by the tears in his eyes. "Yeah, Portagee—it's me. How you doin', man?"
"But how—"
"At the memorial service, did they use the line about 'sure and certain hope that the sea will give up its dead'?" He paused, then he had to grin. "Well, it did."
Oreza closed his eyes, thinking back over twenty years. "Those two admirals, right?"
"You got it."
"So—what the hell have you been—"
"CIA, man. They decided they needed somebody who could, well—"
"I remember that part." He really hadn't changed all that much. Older, but the same hair, and the same eyes, warm and open to him as they had always been, Portagee thought, but underneath always the hint of something else, like an animal in a cage, but an animal who knew how to pick the lock whenever he wanted.
"I hear you've been doing okay for a retired coastie."
"Command Master Chief." The man shook his head. The past could wait. "What's going on?"
"Well, we've been out of the loop for a few hours. Anything new that you know?"
"The President was on. They cut him off, but—"
"Did they really have nukes?" Burroughs asked.
" 'Did'?" Ding asked. "We got 'em?"
"That what he said. Who the hell are you, by the way?" Oreza wanted to know.
"Domingo Chavez." The young man extended his hand. "I see you and Mr. C know each other."
"I go by 'Clark' now," John explained. It was odd how good it felt to talk with a man who knew his real name.
"Does he know?"
John shook his head. "Not many people know. Most of them are dead. Admiral Maxwell and Admiral Greer both. Too bad, they saved my ass."
Oreza turned to his other new guest. "Tough luck, kid. It's some fuckin' sea story. You still drink beer, John?"
"Especially if it's free," Chavez confirmed.
"Don't you see? It's finished now!"
"Who else did they get?" Yamata asked.
"Matsuda, Itagake—they got every patron of every minister, all except you and me," Murakami said, not adding that they had nearly gotten him.
"Raizo, it is time to put an end to this. Call Goto and tell him to negotiate a peace."
"I will not!" Yamata snarled back.
"Don't you see? Our missiles are destroyed and—"
"And we can make new ones. We have the ability to make more warheads, and we have more missiles at Yoshinobu."
"If we attempt that, you know what the Americans will do, you fool!"
"They wouldn't dare."
"You told us that they could not repair the damage you did to their financial systems. You told us that our air defenses were invincible. You told us that they could never strike back at us effectively." Murakami paused for a breath. "You told us all these things—and you were wrong. Now I am the last one to whom you may speak, and