Patrick Robinson - To The Death

Jimmy Ramshawe knew all about him, having checked out the commander’s biography on the Navy networks. Rick had served on SEAL teams all over the world- Burma, Iran, Russia, Iraq, Afghanistan, and Argentina. He’d been in sole command six times, fought, been wounded, and always come out on top. He would have received the Congressional Medal of Honor for valor but for a sudden and premature retirement from the Navy after his best friend and colleague was unjustly brought before a court-martial six years previously.

There were still very senior officers in the United States Navy who would have moved mountains to get Rick back into the SEALs. But he was a rather unusual member of the armed forces. His family was long-established Bluegrass horse breeders, and the young Rick Hunter had wanted more excitement in his life than waiting months on end for thoroughbred mares to produce expensive foals.

However, when the Navy disgraced Commander Dan Headley by finding him guilty of mutiny, despite overpowering mitigating evidence, Rick never felt the same. He resigned with his buddy, and the two of them retired to Kentucky to run the farm. Both of them were married within two years, Rick to one of the daughters of the revered Jarvis horse-training family in Newmarket, England. It was a dazzling match. Diana’s younger brother was a major in Great Britain ’s SAS.

And now the towering former SEAL stood before Lt. Commander Ramshawe, wondering what on earth the National Security Agency could want from him. Jimmy took a sip of coffee. Diana motioned for everyone to sit down and made it perfectly clear that she was not going anywhere at this particular moment.

“Rick,” said Jimmy, “you are, I believe, acquainted with the president’s closest friend, Admiral Arnold Morgan?”

Commander Hunter nodded.

“Well,” said Jimmy, “he is in England right now, and for some weeks we have been concerned there would be an attempt on his life. And then yesterday morning, outside the Ritz Hotel in London, someone tried to kill him. It was a high-powered rifle shot to the head, and it killed one of his bodyguards instead of him. But it was close.”

“Was the shot from street level?” asked the ex-SEAL team leader.

Jimmy shook his head. “So far as we can tell, the killer fired from high up, from a building on the other side of the street.”

And from there Jimmy took the story through from the beginning, from the barmaid-agent in Brockhurst, to the submarine, the subsequent murder of the Irish farmer who got in the way, and finally the sighting of the Hamas chief, in the ferry terminal in Holyhead, with the barmaid.

“Jesus,” replied Rick, “that does not sound in any way good. Because you’re not dealing with some nutcase, you’re dealing with a professional operation from the Middle East. If they can knock down the Towers, I guess they can knock down Arnold.”

“Not if we can help it,” said Jimmy. “And it has now been agreed that we will call in either a U.S. Navy SEAL, or a Green Beret, or a Ranger, to stand personal guard over the admiral. Obviously we want a real combat veteran, preferably a man who has fought with our Special Forces not only in a remote and rural environment, but also in an urban theater.”

Rick got it. And he raised his eyebrows. “And that’s why you’re here? To ask me to rejoin the Navy and fly to Europe to protect Arnold Morgan?”

“Yes, I suppose I am.”

“Out of the question,” said Diana.

“I guess you heard the lady,” added Rick. “I couldn’t possibly do that. I have vast responsibilities here, I couldn’t just up and leave.”

“Not even for two or three weeks?” said Jimmy. “I know August is your least busy month. Now the covering season is over.”

“How can a man who thinks Black Toney is a bank robber possibly know that?” asked Diana, smiling.

“Olin told me,” said Jimmy, simply. “But I don’t think I have explained very well how important this is. As you doubtless know, Admiral Morgan is closer to the president than anyone else in the country except for his wife. Paul Bedford relies on Arnold for all advice on global problems and threats to the United States.

“He is well acquainted with the grave danger this General Rashood poses. And he immediately suggested that Admiral John Bergstrom be brought into the equation. You are Admiral Bergstrom’s choice. And by now the president knows full well, and approves, that you should be the chosen man.”

“Hmmmm,” said Rick, his mind racing. “Under no circumstances can I undertake this, but no one likes to personally turn down the President of the United States.”

“Rick, this thing is going higher than even I know. President Bedford is speaking to the British prime minister today, requesting special permission for an armed American bodyguard to have free choice in the matter of Arnold ’s safety… to legally open fire if necessary.”

“Guess the guy’ll need that,” said Rick. “These things are always split-second. You spot something and act instantly. If you don’t, the target’s dead.”

“And of course,” said Jimmy, smoothly, “you would not be the target.”

“Neither,” said Diana, sweetly, “was this George Kallan. But he’s still dead.”

“Rick, if you were to accept this assignment, you would look back in years to come. And you won’t remember the inconvenience. Only the honor of being chosen by the U.S. president to carry out a mission that close to his heart.

“Right now, you are hearing it from this lowly lieutenant commander from the National Security Agency. If I go back and say you’ve refused, you’ll be in the Oval Office tomorrow, trust me.”

“Well, even the president can’t force us to agree, can he?” said Diana.

But Rick added, “He probably couldn’t force you, Diana. But you’re not an American, and sometimes I think you don’t quite understand what that office means to all of us. Especially if you’ve served in the military.”

And Rick turned to Jimmy and said, “I have to admit, I would find it very difficult to tell the President of the United States that I would not answer his call to protect his closest friend, who just happens to be one of America ’s finest strategists and greatest patriots.”

Jimmy nodded, unsmiling. “I can’t stress this too much, Rick-the highest powers in this country want you to go to Great Britain, on behalf of the president, and do everything you can to prevent this terrorist from killing Arnold Morgan.”

“It’s so unfair,” interjected Diana. “Rick’s not even in the Navy any more. Why should he have to step in when there are so many young guys who would be honored to go on a mission like that?”

“Mostly because Rick is the best Navy SEAL there’s ever been,” said Jimmy. “At least that’s what the Navy high command thinks. And that’s what the president believes. That’s why I’m here. And you can turn me down. But that won’t be the end of it. The president will want to see you.”

“And what will Rick get out of it, apart from the honor?”

“I’d guess anything he asks for,” replied Jimmy. “But if there was an incident, and he managed to save the admiral, I’d guess you’d be looking at the Congressional Medal of Honor. Since Rick would officially be in the Navy for the three-week length of the mission.”

“You mean the president could deem that Rick was a serving Navy officer and facing an enemy?” asked Diana.

“The president can deem anything he darn well pleases,” said Jimmy. “He’s the commander in chief. No one can argue.”

“Including me,” said Rick. “You are making this very difficult.”

He turned to his wife and added, “I do understand, Diana, that as a civilian you cannot quite tune in to… well… a warrior’s call to the flag. It’s not easy.”