Chapter 2

Lt. Tracy Parker had just finished the photo session. She was in the adjoining room and had removed her SOU swimsuit. After glancing at her attractive nakedness in the full length mirror on the back of the door for a few minutes, she thought, "Not bad. Too bad I can't get copies for boyfriends." She looked at the pile of clothes on the chair and smiled to herself. Crisply, she slipped the cups of her bra over each breast and fastened the front closure with a quick twist. After some minor adjustment-a tuck on the left and a lift on the right-she slipped on her bikini bottom, sat down and pulled her panty hose over her legs; first her right leg-running her hands up from the feet to make sure the lines were all straight-then her left. Her long legs were shapely with thin ankles. Her feet were size 9 but thin and pointed-the 2nd toe slightly longer than the rest. Even with the training regime and periodic comprehensive re-examinations, she had managed to maintain an almost delicate femininity in her look and the soft, silky feel of her skin. In an instant, she had on her regulation khaki shirt with insignia, a couple of ribbons and the SOU badge; slipped on her slacks and cinched the belt. The gold bars of a lieutenant glinted in the fluorescent lights. Tracy was standing in front of the mirror in her stocking feet, making sure everything was ship-shape, when Capt. Susan Clement knocked on the door and poked her head around into the room.

"You decent?" she asked. Most people would have been joking. But, for Capt. Clement, there was no such thing as a joke. She stepped into the room. "Looks are deceiving," thought Tracy as she gave the captain a quick once over. 35 years old, Naval Intelligence, some covert operations work, Capt. Clement was 5' 5", 115 lbs. max, with straight blond hair pulled back to a very Navy ponytail. She was thin, flat chested and very pretty-belying her Pennsylvania farm girl roots. And she had incredibly cold blue eyes. That, matched with her ability to deliver every line without an expression of emotion, plus the fact that she successfully fought the male military leadership to create the SOU, made her an intimidating CO. She was also a legend among the covert operations community having completed 11 successful solo missions over her 10 year career and was known for delivering maximum damage to her targets. "I know you're due at Andrews in 2 hours and you probably haven't slept since your arrival from Tampa. But, we need to go over a couple of changes to the routine," Capt. Clement delivered the lines like a laser printer: crisply and effortlessly. Tracy furrowed her brow. "Changes?" Tracy asked. "Yeah, something's turned up on the SD-5 we re-tasked yesterday. My office 5 minutes." And then Capt. Clement was gone from the room. No salutes; no time for an aye-aye, nothing. Short, sweet and to the point. As Tracy put on her shoes, she began to get an unsettled feeling. Change was a bad word this close to an SOU "jump"-launching of a mission. Despite careful planning, 2 were dead. She wasn't going to be number 3 in a rush.

In Capt. Clement's office, Tracy was struck by the overt masculinity of the setting. Everything was regulation; battleship gray metal and green vinyl chairs, Korean War issue officer's desk, 2 bookcases filled with non-descript black binders labeled "SOU 0101," etc. On the wall were 3 large round plaques: the DOD, the Navy Department, and the SOU. SOU had a stylized Calypso similar to the Cousteau Society's; just more American and Deco looking. But, Cousteau's Calypso didn't kill for a living. Tracy let her eyes scan the room. Surprised, she suddenly noticed a small photo of a man, Navy captain, and a boy about 2 years old on the captain's desk in a definitely non-regulation Edwardian silver frame. "So, Suzy-Q has a kid," thought Tracy as she overtly glanced at the photo twice. All the "sisters" referred to Capt. Clement as "Suzy-Q because she wasn't anything like the song. "My Joshua," Capt. Clement broke the silence noticing Tracy's interest in the photo. "My husband Steven was SEAL team before we met 5 years ago. Got married 2 years ago and had Joshua right away." Tracy was slightly embarrassed at the personal content of the words she was hearing.

"Thought we wouldn't or couldn't later with everything. But, Steve's with the CNO at the JCS now, and I'm strictly a desk jockey." As Capt. Clement laughed, for the first time as far as Tracy could remember, she placed her hands on the desk. Her left hand was badly scarred. Suddenly, Capt. Clement's face went cold. "Parker, let's hear it from the top, " she asked softly. So, Tracy went over the jump plan verbally with one of the only 3 people allowed to know the details of the mission.

"0100 hours, I transfer from transport and swim 4 miles to designated start point. Allowing for heavy seas, I will be at start at 0215. Dive to coordinates Alpha Hotel 015 designated Entry Point Baker as scouted by Recon 2 and 3 by 1000 on night of jump. Without their O.K., the jump's cancelled. If it's a go, they can't assist and won't be available during the duration of mission. Entry at Point Baker is 33 feet below surface, a narrow cave running northeast approximately 1 mile underneath the island. At 0250, I surface in a cavern designated Jump 1, set-up and climb 20 feet to designated entrance to facility. Make my way to storage area and disable the bomb. Afterwards, I will disrupt operations in facility to greatest extent possible given time and resistance, make my way back to Jump 1, through to Point Baker and rendezvous with transport at 0415 hours. If Jump 1's not available, there's only one entrance to ground level and the pier. And I know, if I have to use it, I'm fucked," Tracy smiled slightly. Capt. Clement's face didn't even twitch. Tracy concentrated, "Evac at ground level will be made from the pier on the island's north side and a point 6 miles offshore. Transport will be there at 0500 and wait only 15 minutes." Tracy had computed the distances and times over and over. Plans detailed through the use of the SD-4 satellite indicated a medium sized underground complex of bunkers and storage used by the Shining Light terrorists. She knew every corridor and exit in the site. The SD-4 satellite had the ability to trace structures underground through ultra-sensitive ground penetrating radar and low level radiation scans. The terrorists thought that by burying their facility in the relatively hot ground of a volcanic island, they'd be safe from overhead detection. They were wrong. But, they had the Bomb. And she was the 3rd attempt at knocking it out without irradiating Micronesia.

The Shining Light was a loosely Muslim extremist organization headed by a Jamal Aziz, aged 35 years, Lebanese Christian by birth. Now he was leading a jihad against the enemies of the Muslim world and, specifically, against Western capitalists. A real throw-back to more political Marxist terrorists of the 70's and 80's, Aziz was known as the Liberator of Souls-probably due to his work in Morocco and Algeria in the mid '90's killing priests and nuns and the massacre at the synagogue in Haifa when he and his terrorists executed 247 worshippers in 1996. He had followers in the Middle East, Philippines, Malaysia, Indonesia, and among many powerful and rich Muslims. In return for their assistance, he was promising the usual rewards: control of oil reserves, Western submission, the return of Palestine.