surrender. LB called Detroit 1 on the aircraft common frequency. He asked for a sat patch to the PRCC, then waited while the chopper relayed his message.
In a few minutes, his radio peeped.
“Lima Bravo, Lima Bravo. Torres here.”
“Major, LB.”
“What do you want, Sergeant?”
“Major, request permission to stay behind on the ship. The condition of the injured exceeds what we expected. The quality of care on board is not sufficient. We can do the job. The ship’s crew can’t.”
“Denied. Return to base.”
“Major, with respect, why send us out here if you’re not gonna let us do the job the way we see fit? One of the injured might not last to Djibouti.”
“I can’t leave the PJ team down two men. You’re on a humanitarian mission. We could spare you for eight hours, not forty-eight. That was the deal.”
“Major, I don’t think the burned kid who can barely stay conscious for the pain cares about the deal. He’s fighting infection and dehydration. The paralysis case needs monitoring to see if we can reduce his injuries. He’s scared out of his mind. He don’t care either.”
“My hands are tied. Come back.”
“Major, a compromise. Let me stay by myself. I can do this. I’ll send Sergeant Dempsey back.”
“No.”
“I’m asking you. We’ll only be down a single PJ for two days. I’ll stand alert here twenty-four/seven. You need me, come pick me up. I’ll be ready. But I can’t leave these two guys in the state we found them. The mission was bullshit if I do, pardon my French. Ma’am, please. You got my word.”
The sat link buzzed while Torres considered.
“All right. You know my conditions. No curiosity about the crew or the cargo. Press the mission. Take care of the injured. Get back here in two days. And if something comes up, I damn well will come get you.”
“Thank you, Major.”
“Out.”
LB stowed the radio. He entered the bridge. From the copilot’s leather chair, Iris smiled to see him.
LB focused on Drozdov. “All right. Call Bojan. Have him bring back Sergeant Dempsey’s weapons.”
Jamie tugged LB’s arm. “Whoa, hang on.”
LB excused himself again from Drozdov and Iris. He walked Jamie to the starboard windows with a view of the copters keeping pace.
Jamie spoke first. “You’re staying alone? What the hell.”
“Listen to me. Torres wouldn’t go for both of us staying. It’s okay. There’s no good reason for two of us to hang out here. It’s gonna be two days of this.”
“This is a surprise. We work in teams.”
“Yeah, when there’s work to do. This is a one-man job. If a real mission spins up at Lemonnier, Torres will send a chopper for me. Go get your weapons. It’s okay. Help Wally keep an eye on Robey. I got this.”
“I know what you got. A freaking boner.”
“Hey, careful. I’m your elder. By a lot.”
“That’s why it’s a surprise.”
“A mouth like that, I know why you carry so many guns. Go.”
LB threw the chocks on the watertight door to return to the starboard wing. He waved to the two choppers, both sideslipping to keep watch on the Valnea. LB toggled his radio to the aircraft freq.
“Detroit 1, Detroit 1, this is Hallmark.”
“Go, Hallmark.”
“Pickup for one.”
“Everything okay?”
As the chopper pilot spoke, Detroit 1 broke formation to slide behind the freighter. Detroit 2 held position.
“Juliet Delta’s going back to base. Lima Bravo is staying. All good. Confirm.”
“Five by five.”
In minutes Jamie joined him on the wing, his ruck and M4 in place. The other weapons were stowed away. No one came out to watch him depart.
With Detroit 1 tucking itself closer to the ship’s great chimney, the wind on the platform mounted. LB shouted, “I’ll see you in two days.”
“Let me know if the guy moves his legs.”
“Will do.”
The copter eased overhead. LB and Jamie knelt under the intense prop wash. From the open door the MH-53’s engineer tossed down a rope ladder, and LB moved to anchor it. Jamie took a running leap and launched himself athletically several rungs up the ladder. With LB holding the ladder taut, the young PJ scampered up to the thrumming copter.
LB ducked away while the ladder was reeled in. The giant MH-53 lifted its nose to fall back from the ship. The chopper peeled to its side, gaining quick distance.
“Have fun, Hallmark. Detroit 1 out.” Detroit 2 moved up. Both copters beat away low, whipping up froth on the flat, vacant sea.
LB did not go back into the wheelhouse but walked the exterior stairway down the side of the superstructure. After six stories,