Suzanne Brockmann: Forever Blue

With their faces painted green and black, and with their intensive SEAL training, experience and discipline, Alpha Squad was invisible, embraced by the darkness, enshrouded by the cloak of night.

As the SEALs positioned themselves in the brush that surrounded the cabin, Blue turned to look at his commanding officer and good friend, Lieutenant Joe Catalanotto. Blue could barely see Joe Cat’s face in the darkness, but he saw the man’s nod.

Time to go.

Out of the corner of his eye, Blue caught the stealthy movement of Cowboy, Lucky, Bobby and Wes as they faded toward the northeast and the second structure. They were going to secure that building and neutralize the terrorists inside.

That left Joe Cat and Harvard cooling their heels outside the main cabin while Blue crept inside to snatch back the girl.

H. stood guard while Joe and Blue scanned the exterior of the cabin, in particular the window that was to be Blue’s insertion point, his way in.

There were no booby traps, no alarms, no extra security. That was because the quarter mile surrounding the cabin was loaded with booby traps, alarms and armed security patrols. It was also because Aldo Fricker, the terrorists’ leader, had forgotten the number-one rule: Never assume. The terrorists had left their vulnerable underbelly unprotected because they’d assumed that no one would be able to penetrate the fiercely guarded outer perimeters of their compound.

They were wrong.

Al Fricker, meet SEAL Team Ten’s Alpha Squad.

As Blue watched, Joe Cat quickly and quietly cut the pane of glass from the cabin’s window. Harvard gave Blue a boost up, and he was inside.

Blue did a quick scan of the interior with his night-vision glasses, quickly locating the senator’s young daughter. She was curled up in an old brass bed in the southeast corner of the room. From what he could see she was still alive. The four guards were in sleeping bags or stretched out on the bare floor near the door. Blue took off his NVs and waited several seconds for his eyes to grow accustomed to the dark again, listening to the quiet breathing of the sleeping guards. It wouldn’t do any good to wake the girl up while wearing the NVs, looking like some kind of alien from outer space. She was going to be frightened enough as it was.

He took four syringes from his battle vest and moved silently through the room, giving each of the guards a carefully dosed guaranteed good night’s sleep. He sealed the needles back up and packaged the now-empty syringes in a bag marked Bio-hazardous Waste. A quick search of the cabin convinced him that no other guards were lurking, so he moved toward the senator’s daughter.

He flicked on his penlight, shielding the light in the palm of one hand as he looked down at the sleeping girl. She was curled in a fetal position, knees tucked into her chest, one arm up, wrist attached by handcuffs to the brass headboard of the bed. Her hair was tangled and knotted, and dirt and blood from abrasions streaked her face and bare arms and legs. She was wearing a pair of blue shorts and a sleeveless top. Both were badly torn.

The bastards had hurt her. Karen. Her name was Karen Branford. They’d beaten her. Probably raped her. Christ, she was fifteen years old.

Rage filled him. Hot, molten and deadly, Blue felt it seep through his body, under his skin, spreading out all the way to his fingers and toes. It was a familiar sensation in his line of business. Normally he welcomed it. But tonight his job wasn’t to fight back. Tonight his job was to take this battered little girl out of here and get her to safety.

When he adjusted his headset, pulling the lip microphone closer to his mouth, his voice was steady. “Cat,” he said almost silently to his commanding officer. “They hurt her.”

Joe Catalanotto cursed. “Bad?”

“Yeah.”

“Can she walk?”

“I don’t know,” Blue said.

He turned toward the girl again, sensing from the change in the sound of her breathing that she was awake. Awake and terrified.

Quickly he knelt down next to her, holding the penlight so that it lit his camouflaged face.

“I’m Lieutenant Blue McCoy, miss,” he said in a low voice. “I’m a U.S. Navy SEAL, and I’m here to bring you home.”

She stared at him, eyes wide, taking in his uniform, his gun, and he knew she didn’t understand.

“I’m an American sailor, Karen,” he said. “I’m a friend of your daddy’s, and I’m gonna get you outta here.”

At the mention of her father, understanding and hope flared simultaneously in her brown eyes. She had been clutching at her torn shirt in a futile attempt at modesty, but now she removed her hand to cover his light.

“Shh,” she whispered. “You’ll wake the guards.”

“No, I won’t,” Blue said. “They’re not going to wake up for a while. And when they do, they’re going to be in jail.” He extracted his lock pick from the waterproof case in his vest and set to work on her cuffs. Three seconds was all it took, and the lock snapped open.

As she rubbed her wrist, Blue slipped off his pack and battle vest and quickly unbuttoned the camouflage shirt he wore underneath it. It was damp with perspiration and probably didn’t smell too good, but it was the best he could offer her under the circumstances.

She accepted it silently, slipping it on and buttoning it clear up to her neck.

Blue had to give her credit. After her initial surprise and fear, she now gazed back at him unflinchingly. Her eyes were clear and brave. He’d seen brown eyes like hers somewhere before, a lifetime ago. The owner of those eyes had been fifteen years old, too….

Lucy. Little Lucy Tait. Hell, he hadn’t thought about her in years.

Blue glanced at his watch, double-checking to make sure his pack was secure. According to the plan, diversionary tactics should be just about ready to start. Blue took a deep breath, looked down at Karen and quietly asked, “Can you walk?”

The young girl stood up. The tail of Blue’s shirt came all the way down to her knees. “Better than that,” she said stoutly, “I can run.”

Blue smiled for the first time in what seemed like hours. “Well, all right. Let’s go.”

They were halfway through the brush, when Blue heard the first shots ring out. Joe Cat and H. were right behind him, and he sensed them both turning toward the sounds of the skirmish, wondering which men of Alpha Squad were involved, wishing they could go toward the fighting and provide backup.

“This is the wrong way,” Blue heard Karen gasp. She pulled free from his grasp, looking wildly around.

He took her arm again. “No, it’s not—”

“Yes, it is,” she insisted. “I tried running this way before. There are nothing but cliffs. There’s no path down to the ocean. We’ll be trapped!”

The kid had tried to escape. Blue marveled at her guts. She was tough. Again he couldn’t help but think about Lucy Tait. He’d been a senior and Lucy had been a little freshman, and the first time they met, she had been getting the stuff kicked out of her by a gang of kids. She was bloody and clearly the odds were against her, but she had a defiant lift to her chin and a “you can’t beat me” glint in her brown eyes.

Cowboy’s voice came in over Blue’s headset. “Cat! About four tangos broke free. They’re heading in your direction!”

“Copy that,” Cat replied. He turned to Blue. “Go.”

“We’re going to parasail down to the water,” Blue told Karen. “There’s a boat waiting for us.”

She didn’t understand. “Parasail? How?”

“Trust me,” he said.

Karen hesitated only a fraction of a second, then nodded.

Then they were running again, this time without Cat and Harvard on their heels.