Hacksaw laughed. “My boss called us pirates.”
“Well…” Jack said, sizing up the motley trio. “You do look like pirates.”
“Fuck you and the horse you rode in on, ass-wipe,” Kermit Alexander said. “Hip-hop gone bad sounds better.”
“How about you, Habu?” Jack said to the never-talkative Cory Webster.
“Don’t like either one,” Habu said. “Think Little Stevie Van Zandt and the E Street Band. Ray-Bans and do-rag going on, rockin’ on his Rickenbacker. That’s more me than fucking pirates or hip-hop gone bad.”
“Thought Stevie Van Zandt played a Fender,” Billy-C said, leaning on his crutches, and offering a hand for the three old snipers to shake. “Staff Sergeant Claybaugh.”
“Glad to know you, Claybaugh. Little Stevie plays both brands,” Cory said, and shook Billy’s hand.
“He’s that dude, Silvio, on The Sopranos . Right?” Momo Costa asked.
“Yeah,” Iceman said. “That’s him. Figures you’d know Little Stevie better for The Sopranos than Springsteen.”
Momo shrugged, nodding much like Silvio did on The Sopranos .
“These are some of my HOGs,” Jack said, realizing the need for introductions. “We got my Mob Squad here. Corporals Momo Costa, Sal the Pizza Man Principato, Nick the Nose Falzone, and their boss, Sergeant Carlo the Iceman Savoca.”
“That’s fucking rich,” Hacksaw said. “Mob Squad. Figures you boys would be big on Tony Soprano. I like him, too. Fucking cold steel, that one.”
They shook hands as Jack continued, “We got my number two gunsmith here, Sergeant Andre Romyantsev, better known around here as Rasputin the Devil.”
“Call me Andre,” Romyantsev said as he shook hands with the three old pirates.
“And you met Staff Sergeant Claybaugh,” Jack added. “We call him Billy-C. He and I’ve pulled a couple of pumps together before this one. Stone killer with a sniper gun, and one hell of a spotter. He’ll put you dope on, first shot.”
“Glad to know ya, Billy-C,” Walter Gillespie said. “Retired Master Sergeant Walter Gillespie here. Just call me Hacksaw. That black guy there is none other than Kermit The Frog Alexander, and his asshole buddy there, Cory Webster, known to us as Habu. One deadly motherfucker. I was Jack’s sniper spotter back in the day, and broke the boy’s cherry.”
He looked at Jack. “Remember that, Hammer? Fucking Iraqi general. Blew his shit straight to hell. Then, in about two seconds, screaming from the sky, comes two grand of holy shit. Mark 84 smart bomb blew the fuck out of that place. Only way we confirmed the general’s kill was I took pictures before the bomb hit. One hell of a memorable way for a Marine Scout-Sniper to step across that first kill threshold.”
“Gunny Valentine really take out Pablo Escobar?” Momo asked.
“Yes he did, young son,” Hacksaw said. “Old Jack the Hammer of Justice Valentine put fifty-two grains of .22-250 Sierra MatchKing lead straight through Escobar’s left ear. Surgical as it comes. I don’t think he even got wax on the bullet. Turned out that motherfucker’s lights at three hundred yards, downhill, cross-compartment. Hell of a shot! History says the Colombian National Police killed old Pablo, but in truth, it was Jack done it. I ought to know. I was right there by him, calling wind and range.”
“Enough of the old-home-week nostalgia,” Jack gruffly interrupted as his buttery-eyed crew of young Scout-Snipers soaked in the story of their gunny’s glory days. “You just come by to say hello, Hacksaw, or did you want to suck my dick while you’re here?”
“Fuck you, child.” Gillespie laughed. “Actually, I did come by just to say hello to an old friend. My boss, also, asked that if I did see you, I should try to persuade you to sign off on his toasted Escalade that fucking space cadet Ray-Dean Blevins put the thermite to a while back.”
“Suck my dick, and I might think about it,” Jack said.
“I’ll let that fucking Cesare Alosi suck your dick,” Walter said. “I delivered the message, and that’s all I said I’d do for that slimeball Sicilian piece of shit.”
“Really do like the guy, huh?” Jack laughed.
“Oh, fuck yeah!” Hacksaw let off. “Motherfucker’s been sending us down to Fallujah and Ramadi every day of the week since he got here. Trying to get us three killed, I think. He hates my fucking ass almost as much as he hates yours.”
“What’s it worth to him for me to sign off on that Escalade?” Jack asked, curious.
“Oh, he’d definitely suck your dick, and probably swallow, too,” Hacksaw grumbled. “Piece of shit, that one.”
“He gay?” Jack asked.
“He might suck cock, but I don’t think he’s totally Fruit-Loops,” Gillespie said. “He’s got a picture of one dark-eyed beauty on his desk. Guaranteed eating material. She’s way too pretty to just fuck. She kind of reminds me of that sweet thing you had back home. While we was down in Medellín. What’s her name? Liberty something?”
“Liberty Cruz,” Jack answered, and gave his gang of grinning MARSOC operators a cold, no-smart-assed-remarks look. “She’s a special operations agent in the FBI nowadays.”
“You don’t say,” Hacksaw said, and grinned at Jack’s crew of snipers. “You’ll have to get the Gunny here a little drunk, and maybe he’ll tell you about getting that pink ribbon full of sweet-smelling hair in the mail, when we was deployed to South America on drug-interdiction operations.”
Then Hacksaw looked at Jack. “Did Elmore ever realize what kind of hair was tied up in that ribbon?”
Jack shook his head no.
“So, the little cheerleader’s a G-man now?” Hacksaw said, still grinning at the boys, knowing they were dying to ask about the hair and pink ribbon but knew better than to say a word more.
“Yeah, she just finished SERE school at Lejeune,” Jack said. “Got an email from her this morning. She sent a picture. But I’m not so sure I want to show you.”
“Oh, please! Can I see?” Billy chirped. “I love eye-fucking her shit. Hacksaw, you gotta take a look. This chick is way too hot for this dumb-ass gunny. She’s like a fucking movie star, but better.”
“Alright, Hammer, let’s see how your little cheerleader has grown up. Come on, beam it up,” Hacksaw said.
Jack opened the lid on his laptop and looked at the glassy eyes of his Marines and his old friends, licking their chops like they were about to see good porn.
“No fucking comments. Got it?” Valentine said as he clicked the arrow on the email and opened Liberty’s latest picture, full screen.
Liberty Cruz stood there in a nice-fitting tank top and well-fitting tailored cargo pants, snugging her in all the right places. She had her long, black hair let loose and wild around her gorgeous face. Topping off the whole she-warrior special-operator image, in her hands she held an M40A3 Marine Corps sniper rifle.
“Mmm, mmm! Don’t she make that mantelpiece look good?” Billy-C exclaimed of the long cool woman holding the rifle.
Hacksaw, Habu, and Kermit said nothing. Noticeably silent. Then nodded approvingly but uncomfortable.
Jack looked at them. “Something wrong?”
“Naw!” Hacksaw lied, recognizing the woman from Cesare’s desk. “Hell, Jack, she grew up real pretty. Kind of left me speechless. Your boys are right. She’s way too hot for a dumb-ass gunny like you.”
“Fuck you, ass-wipe,” Jack said, closing the lid on his computer.
“Look, Jack,” Hacksaw said, checking around to be sure no one unauthorized lurked anywhere near. “We’re headed out to Hit. Battalion operation we got assigned to support this morning. Contracting for the CIA. You know Chris Gray and Speedy Espinoza? Couple of former Marines gone spook?”
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