Free Amber by David Wood Page A

by telephone as soon as they had been able to reach one, so that a search for the missing men could be launched. Now, as they were escorted up the Williamsburg’s boarding gangway by yet another stone-faced sailor, they were here to deliver that debriefing in person. Maddock wouldn’t have it any other way. But that didn’t mean he looked forward to it.
    Walking through the ship, this time they were greeted with stares of outright hostility, as though it were their fault two of their sailors had not returned. And in a way, Maddock thought grimly, it was, wasn’t? He had personally briefed Yu and Jiminez, given them their orders. The ship’s walkways, stairs, bulkheads and machinery passed by in a blur as the four SEALs made their way to the fantail of the massive war machine. But no, he argued with himself, it was the Russians who were responsible. Moreover, Yu and Jiminez were well aware of the Russian presence and threat before they embarked on the mission. They were the ones who had informed Maddock about the escalating activity, after all. It wasn’t like they were completely blindsided. Had they refused or even expressed reservations about participating in the mission, Maddock would have requested someone else. They had willingly participated.
    So it was that Maddock had his thoughts prepared for the debriefing with Metcalf, his various questions anticipated, but like so much in the business of war and national security, you could prepare, but there was no guarantee whatsoever things would play out the way you had thought. Metcalf was standing there with a sat-phone to his face, talking on it as he watched the SEAL visitors approach with their sailor escort, who stopped and saluted.
    Metcalf said, “Yes sir, right away sir,” into the phone before clipping it back to his belt and saluting his sailor.
    He glared ever so slightly at Maddock. Was that a tear in his eye? But his voice was hard as steel as he spoke. “Admiral Liptow has been informed that you have returned from your dive and that both of the sailors who accompanied you did not. That is the extent of what he has been told at this point. He requests an immediate briefing via teleconference with the four of you. We have set up a secure conference facility on board for this purpose. Ensign Peterson will escort you there. Good day, SEALs.”
    Metcalf turned on a heel and strode off before any of them could say anything. What was there to say?
    “This way.” The ensign pointed toward the superstructure of the ship and began walking toward a high stairwell. A few minutes later he deposited them at the doorway of a third level conference room, the door to which was open.
    “The Admiral is waiting on a secure line. Just hit unmute on the closest phone to the end, there. When you’re done, hit the intercom on the wall here and someone will escort you off the ship.” With that, the ensign left them alone in the smallish room, which featured not much more than a simple table and chairs to support a bank of conference phones.
    The four of them took seats and Maddock unmuted the phone. “Admiral Liptow, Dane Maddock here with fellow SEALs Uriah Bonebrake, Willis Sanders and Pete Chapman. The Navy tells us this line is secure.”
    “Liptow here, Maddock. Line is secure. Proceed with your briefing. I understand things turned out less than optimal.”
    Professor rolled his eyes. Dane flashed on them nearly drowning down in that gloomy wreck. Less than optimal. Understatement of the century. Maddock took the prompt.
    “Yes sir. We lost—“
    “Two Navy divers, Alex Yu and Raul Jiminez. I know. Give me the particulars.”
    Maddock took a deep breath and then began recounting the details of their dive, with occasional input from Bones, Professor and Willis. When he finished, there was a lengthy pause on the other end of the line, at the end of which the Admiral said, “That’s a substantial loss of Navy life and property for a golden cherub that was stolen