Charles Henderson - Terminal Impact

Cruz looked around and saw only one person in the operations hooch, him seated with his back to her at the big desk under the giant Punisher skull and Templar cross looming on the black wall above him. A flop hat covering his head, he sat humped over, his face about a foot from his computer screen. So Liberty loosened up and began a sexy swagger to him.

Billy Claybaugh rocked back and forth at Valentine’s desk with Jack’s personal laptop open, showing full screen a photograph that the gunny took on Onslow Beach of Liberty Cruz holding a volleyball. In it she wore a snug little black bikini with gold rings pressed against her bare hips, holding together the tiny patch of cloth in front to the one in back. Similar gold rings held together the small triangular patches of thin, silky black swimsuit material covering what it could of her breasts. That day, a cool breeze had come off the water, raising goose bumps on Liberty’s skin and hardening her nipples. The water beads and sand on her flesh, glistening with her smile had Billy-C living in another land, far, far away.

The unsuspecting visitor eased up a few steps behind the staff sergeant she mistook for her lover, and in her sexiest buttery voice, Liberty breathed out, “Instead of staring at the menu, why don’t you just dive into the main course, Marine?”

Staff Sergeant Claybaugh let out a squeal and spun in Jack’s swivel chair, his trousers unbuckled and his hand still inside. In that same second, he jumped to his feet and turned his back to Liberty, buckling up.

“Oh fuck,” he let out as he turned back around to see the woman in the picture, who had dominated his sex fantasy, now standing three feet from him. Then he glanced back at the desk and slammed the lid of Jack’s laptop shut.

For the next several seconds Liberty and Billy-C simply stood eye-locked at each other, awkward and completely speechless. Finally, Liberty cleared her throat and grew more and more angry as she thought more and more about what she had just encountered.

“Where’s Jack?” she snapped, at the same time putting on her blouse, buttoning it up, and twisting her hair back into a bun and pinning it.

Billy hung his head, gasping hard. “He deployed evening before last, Liberty. Out in the Anbar. Western part of AO Denver. Won’t be back for two weeks.”

“Does he know you look at his personal pictures on his computer?” Liberty asked.

“Yes, but he doesn’t like it,” Billy offered.

“What kind of answer is that? Yes, but he doesn’t like it?” Liberty said.

“In case something happens, I got his passwords, lock combinations, all that,” Billy explained. “In case something happens to me, Jack’s got my passwords and same. Cotton Martin’s got both mine and Jack’s, and we both have his.”

Liberty didn’t like hearing anything that suggested that Jack could get killed, and this made her wince.

“Why?” she asked but pretty much knew all the reasons.

“All of us do it, Miz Cruz,” Billy said. “Makes sure the family can get into whatever they need to. Don’t get locked out. You know. Helps them.”

“And lets you little twirps clean up his bullshit so the bereaved family doesn’t see all the perverted crap,” Liberty let go.

“Well, yeah. That, too,” Billy admitted. “But Jack don’t have perverted crap on his computer. Maybe some sick shit, like we all do. Combat video, but nothing perverted.”

“Oh, people getting blown to shit isn’t perverted?” Liberty said, then wished she hadn’t.

Billy just looked at her, a bit hurt.

“I get why you have Jack’s password,” Liberty went on, anger softening. “But he knows you look at his pictures?”

“He don’t want me and Cotton looking at them, but we do,” Billy said. “Now, we don’t read his email or anything like that. We only look at the pictures of you. That’s all. And it pisses Jack the fuck off!”

“It pisses me the fuck off, Billy,” she added. “I had a better opinion of you than some pervy little nutsack pocket squirrel doing whatever it was you were doing while leering at a picture of me. You were doing what I think you were doing, weren’t you Staff Sergeant Claybaugh?”

“I’d rather not say,” Billy said as his eyes dropped straight at his toes.

Liberty let out a long breath. “I guess I ought to be flattered that you boys find me attractive. But I’m not!”

“Miz Cruz. Liberty. I’m sorry,” Billy offered, and added with a wince. “Do we need to tell Jack about this?”

“Fuck no!” Liberty shot back. Then she sat down on the chair by Jack’s desk, and Billy sat down, too. After thinking for a minute, she said, “When Jack checks in, tell him that I dropped by the office and wanted to surprise him. I’ll be here in Iraq for a couple of months, working out of the embassy. We’ll get together when he gets back.”

“Is there anything else? Anything you need?” Billy asked, hoping to make up for lost ground.

“I guess not,” Liberty said. She tapped her fingers on the top of Jack’s desk and looked around the office. “This Gunny Valentine’s idea of office decor?”

“Totally.” Billy smiled, like it was a compliment of Jack’s good taste. “We got ball caps and vest patches, too. I helped a little designing them.”

“This is right up there with that Nazi-looking SS crap you boys had going on at Lejeune,” she said.

“Our Scout-Sniper rune?” Billy said, defending it. “We got an arrow pointing north right through the middle of it. Nazis didn’t have that. Besides, our SS looks different.”

“I gotta go,” Liberty said, getting to her feet and snugging on her baseball cap. As she started to leave, she looked back at Claybaugh. “You guys don’t have any interactions with these security contractors, do you?”

“No more than we have to,” Billy said. “Had a few run-ins. Nothing to write home about. Watched three drugged-out fools burn up an armored Cadillac Escalade a while back. That was entertaining. They’re mostly scumbags living too close to the edge. You know, sex, drugs, rock and roll.”

“You don’t know anything about this hangout of theirs, Baghdad Country Club?” she added.

“Bloody bucket rod-and-gun club, what I hear. Off-limits. But that don’t mean some military dudes don’t show up there now and then. Mostly TOC-Roaches and Fobbits. You know the dudes that don’t venture past the wire at the Tactical Operations Centers and Forward Operating Bases but want to look like they play rough?” Billy said. Then added, “Of course, that’s all based from what I hear. I have no firsthand knowledge.”

“Of course not. Thanks for the intel, Billy,” Liberty said, and headed for the door.

When she got outside, she took out her mobile phone and punched in Chris Gray’s number.

He answered, and she started talking.

“Chris,” Liberty said. “Take me on a date tonight.”

“I had planned to chop out to Hit this afternoon,” the CIA operator began. He paused a few seconds, thinking, then added, “Since Speedy’s already there, and we got the three contractors out there with him, I suppose I could put it off another day, for a good reason.”

“I want you to take me dancing,” Liberty said.

“Really? In war-torn Iraq? Let me guess where,” Gray said, a sarcastic tone in his voice. “Baghdad Country Club.”

“You’re so intuitive!” Liberty said with equal sarcasm.

“It’s a really bad idea,” the CIA operator added.

“My tactical team will chaperone,” she said.

“Oh, I see. Just like in ninth grade,” Gray said.

“Eighth grade.” She laughed.

“We will take separate cars, though, and your three lads will sit at a different table,” Gray added. “I at least want it to feel like a date. Plus our cover’s better if it looks like it’s just us two.”