Chapter 5

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Approximately eight hours later, Trevor picked up Caroline and Matthew "Wolf" Steele at the Sea-Tac Airport. No call from Orfali had come through yet.

He hugged Caroline when he saw her. Trevor had not seen Wolf’s wife in several months. While still beautiful, her face looked careworn, “Try not to worry,” she told him. “We are here to help. We’ll get her back.”

"Sorry I couldn't get here sooner," Wolf said, throwing his duffle bag in the truck bed. He gave Trevor a bear-hug. "I got here as quickly as I could. Have you heard anything yet from Ahmet Orfali yet?"

"No," Trevor replied.

"Why aren't we moving?" Wolf asked.

"We're waiting on someone else. Do you remember Kevin Jackson?"

"Snake Jackson?" Wolf replied. "Of course, I remember him.”

“Who’s Snake Jackson?” Caroline asked.

“He's a legendary SEAL,” Wolf replied. “He's been retired for over ten years now. What's he got to do with this?"

"He lives in Spokane, Washington now," Trevor responded. "That’s across state. He was in his final year with my SEAL team the year I first arrived at base. I called him and explained what had happened.

“He offered to help?” Wolf asked.

“He actually insisted,” Trevor responded.

“Sounds like the Snake I know.”

Snake Jackson had been a decorated Navy SEAL for over eighteen years. His resume was incredibly impressive, but was now well over fifty years old, Wolf thought, perhaps even fifty-five. Wolf’s face showed concern.

Trevor nodded, "I know what you’re thinking. He has remained active as a consultant and private investigator for local law enforcement, and Snake has particular attributes that no one else has, and we need them."

"What attributes are those?" Wolf asked.

Trevor opened the image gallery from his phone. He pulled up a picture.

"This is a picture of Chris Carpenter," Trevor said, handing the phone to Wolf.

"Yeah?" Wolf acknowledged.

"Swipe to the next picture,” he said.

Wolf swiped as instructed.

“This is a picture of Snake Jackson, taken a month ago," Trevor continued. "Do you see what I see?"

Wolf knew where Trevor was heading. He nodded, "You want Snake to pose as Chris Carpenter?"

"I do," Trevor said. "Both men are near the same age and are a little under 5-foot-10. They both have thick brown eyebrows and slightly oversized ears. Their noses are close. Snake is probably twenty pounds heavier than Mr. Carpenter but it's natural for men that age to put on a little weight."

“It’s risky,” Wolf said.

“Everything about this operation will be risky,” Trevor replied. “They have to know I called you. They will be ready for both of us. If we insert Snake Jackson in place of Chris Carpenter, it will add a third Navy SEAL to our side.”

Wolf nodded, “And an element of surprise?”

Trevor shrugged, “That’s the idea. And, of course, we will not have to put Mr. Carpenter at risk.”

Caroline looked at the pictures, "We'll have to add a little gray to Snake's hair and shave back his hairline a couple of inches to match."

"And find some glasses to match those of Mr. Carpenter," Trevor added. "I googled Chris Carpenter. There are only a scant few pictures of him on the internet anywhere. Ahmet Orfali knows him mostly by reputation. He probably has a few photos that are five years old or older. This could work."

“I can help with this,” Caroline said.

“I’m counting on it,” Trevor replied.

"There is one big problem," Wolf said.

"You mean the fact that Snake Jackson is not a rocket scientist?" Caroline asked.

"That could come up in conversation," Wolf jibed.

"I've already called Mr. Carpenter and shared the plan," Trevor said. "You’re right. He is frightened that Snake will be recognized as an imposter and Honor will be killed."

"I can see why he'd be worried," Wolf said. “It worries me, too.”

"By the same token, he also understands the benefit of having an additional decorated Navy SEAL on hand during the exchange," Trevor continued. "He's going to meet with Snake and prep him as much as possible before the call comes in."

"And we still don’t know when that is?" Wolf asked.

"They didn't say," Trevor replied. "They just instructed me to keep this phone with me and turned on at all times."

“Assume we manage to pull off your little ruse with Orfali,” Caroline said. “What happens when Honor sees the man we brought is not her father and…”

“She won’t do that, I know it,” Trevor interrupted. “She’s smart.”

"There he is," Wolf said, nodding toward the baggage claim exit.

Trevor turned and saw Kevin "Snake" Jackson approaching.

"Jesus," Trevor replied. "He sure has stayed in shape. Look at those biceps and shoulders."

"Yeah, we're gonna need a loose sweater, an overcoat or something to cover his arms and chest.  IfAhmet Orfali catches sight of his physique, this little party will be over before it starts. He’ll never buy it that Mr. Carpenter is in that kind of shape."

“Leave the fashion stuff to me,” Caroline said.

“Snake!” Trevor called out. “Thank you for coming, man.”

Trevor stepped outside the truck to greet Snake, who gave his fellow SEAL a bearhug, “I wouldn’t miss it,” he said and then glanced at Wolf, who also stepped out of the truck.

“Holy shit!” he exclaimed. “Wolf Steele. The legend himself.”

The two men locked hands in a firm handshake, “It’s you who are the legend,” Wolf replied. “What’s in the case your tugging?”

“Counter surveillance equipment,” he said. “I have a private investigator’s license. I was able to get it through security. Boot is worried that your personal phones and perhaps Mr. Carpenter’s house and phone may be bugged. If they are, I’ll know it.”

“How did you come about that equipment?” Wolf asked.

He smiled, “I live the life of a security consultant. I test all kind of things. This equipment is top notch.”

“Were you able to bring any weapons?”

He shook his head, “Not on a commercial flight, but there’s a man I know who lives in the Seattle area on Queen Anne Hill. He’s a private collector. He can supply us a Colt M4A1, a Sig Sauer P226 and a couple of Glock 19’s.”

“Ammunition?” Wolf said.

“Plenty,” came the reply. “Unless I miss my guess, when the time comes, it’s all going to go down pretty quick. I called him as soon as I landed and gave him Mr. Carpenter’s address.”

“Thank you,” Trevor said. “Cost?”

“It’s taken care of,” Snake replied.

“No, really,” Trevor began. “I can’t let you…”

“It’s covered,” Snake replied.

Trevor started to protest again but, then, simply nodded.

TheColt M4A1was the standard issue Navy SEAL machine gun. The P226 and Glock 19 were handguns that Trevor and Wolf had both used in the past.

Thirty minutes later, Trevor, Wolf, and Snake were sitting with Chris Carpenter at the dining room table of his home. Trevor had already destroyed his personal cell, but Snake Jackson was able to verify that neither Wolf’s or Chris Carpenter’s cell phones were bugged, nor was Carpenter’s home.

“I’ll be willing to bet Honor’s apartment is bugged,” Trevor said, “but we don’t have time to find out right now.”

Carpenter had a three-inch thick file sitting in front of him – Snake's homework assignment, he called it.

Carpenter patted the file, “I’m going to teach you everything I can about Blue Horizons and rocket propulsion in as much time as we have,” he said. “Do you know anything at all about propulsion?”

Snake shook his head, no.

Carpenter sighed and looked at Trevor, “Are you sure about this? If this doesn’t work…”

“Mr. Carpenter,” Wolf interrupted. “We believe this is the best plan.”

“And if Orfali even gets a hint that the FBI or CIA are involved, Honor will be killed,” Trevor added.

“I know, guys, I know,” Carpenter said. “It’s just that…”

“We do clandestine operations for a living, Mr. Carpenter,” Wolf pleaded. “Let us do this. It’s Honor’s best chance.”

Carpenter rubbed his eyes and sighed, “It will be impossible to teach Mr. Jackson what he needs to know about propulsion.”

“He doesn’t have to know a lot,” Trevor interrupted. “None of Honor’s captors know jack about propulsion, either. You can give him a high-level overview. We just need for Snake to have enough information to get him through the door. It will all go down very fast from there.”

Carpenter spent the next two hours giving Snake Jackson a high-level overview of propulsion. He was impressed with Snake’s ability to retain what he was being told.

Carpenter also pulled out his wallet, his company ID card, driver's license, passport, and social security card. He also laid out several articles of his clothing on the couch in his living room.

The next order of business was clipping and coloring Snake's hair to match that of Chris Carpenter, and shaving a portion of his hairline.

Caroline looked at the two men side by side, “I think we can pull this off, especially if it’s just for a short while.”

"I can't thank you enough for doing this for us," Chris Carpenter said to Snake.

"I'm proud to do it," Snake replied. "I'd do anything for any of my SEAL brothers. You’d do the same for me, I know."

"What have you been doing with yourself?" Wolf asked.

"I've been doing some consulting with local law enforcement, some private investigation and some security work," he said. "I've been staying pretty active, mostly in Seattle and the rural areas of Washington State."

“I heard about your wife,” Wolf said. “I’m sorry. I never had the pleasure of meeting her, but I heard she was a terrific woman.”

Jackson’s wife of 22 years passed away eighteen months earlier after a two-year battle with cancer.

“She was,” he said. “Thank you.”

“You sure you want to do this, Snake?” Trevor said. “I know you haven’t been on active duty in a long time. Now that you know everything, I’d have no problem if you bow out.”

“Bootstrap,” he began. “Do you remember Operation Red Wings?”

“It was a little before my time but I know the story well, sir,” Trevor replied.

“Then you know my answer,” he said.

“I do, and thank you,” Trevor replied.

Caroline turned to her host, “Mr. Carpenter, perhaps I could help you gather some stuff we need. We’ll need scissors, razors, and shaving cream. We’ll also need towels.”

“Certainly,” he said. “Let’s get started. Right this way.”

In the master bathroom, Carpenter began gathering the needed supplies.

“You have everything you need?” Trevor asked, checking in.

“I think so,” Caroline replied.

 “What did he mean about Operation Red Wing?” Carpenter asked when they’d left the room. “How did that answer your question?”

“Snake was part of one of the deadliest rescue attempts in recent history,” Trevor said. “In 2005, Snake was part of a SEAL team sent to the Kunar Province in Afghanistan. Their mission was to neutralize Ahmad Shah. We knew that terrorists were planning to do whatever was necessary to sabotage the elections there. In late June, 2005, Snake was supposed to be part of a mission led by Lt. Mike Murphy. At the last moment, he was replaced by another team member. There was a covert helicopter drop the team was delayed by unexpected weather that also resulted in communication outages. They then ran into three Afghan goatherders, who gave away their position and they ran into overwhelming opposition. Snake was part of the team sent in to save them but only one SEAL team member survived. Snake has been carrying around guilt about that mission this entire time.”

“But it wasn’t his fault,” Carpenter said.

“I know that and so do you,” Trevor replied. “I don’t think you’ll ever convince Snake of that. That man will spend the rest of his days on earth looking for ways to help other SEALS in need.”

“You guys are very special,” Carpenter said.

“Let me get Honor home before you say that,” Trevor said.