Deathrace

19

The dinner party had progressed well. Ed DeWitt had asked Kat to come to his house for dinner with him and his lady friend, Milly.

"Frankly, Kat, she wants to meet you. She's a little jealous, and wants to be sure you don't have real claws."

Kat had understood at once, but said she'd come only if they had Murdock along as a kind of buffer person. It had worked out.

Now they sat around the dinner table scraping up the last of a delicious cherry pie A la mode.

"Cherry pie has been my favorite since I was a tomboy climbing trees in our backyard in the wilds of Virginia," Kat said.

Milly had taken a liking to this nuclear physicist at once. They had chatted in the kitchen while getting the last of the dinner ready for the table. Milly had seemed to understand at once that this pleasant woman with short brown hair and impressive credentials was no threat to her love for Ed. From there on the friendship grew.

They pushed back from the table and went into the small living room.

"Don't worry about the dishes," Milly said. "Our maid will clear, and take care of everything."

"Oh, yeah, by that she means me," Ed said. They all laughed.

"Let's just talk," Milly said. "We got off to a good start in the kitchen. I understand you showed up a few of our vaunted SEALs on one of the open-ocean swims."

"The guys aren't used to competitive swimming," Kat said. "if it's just an exercise, I tend to go out a little faster then the rest of the platoon."

"Yeah," Murdock said. "Then she stretches her lead in the middle part, and churns home so fast we can't even see her wake."

"Only part true," Kat said, smiling. "When we're in a combat situation, I'll keep my stroke exactly on sched. Hey, you've drilled that into my brain."

"You better," DeWitt said. "Or we'll let you swim the twenty miles out to the carrier." They all laughed again.

Milly leaned back and relaxed. It was so clear to her now. Kat was indeed "one of the guys." She had an extremely difficult job to do once they got to the target, but she had to be able to endure a lot of tough physical activity before they got there. Ed had told her that Kat had to be able to fire her weapon to protect her own life, and the lives of the rest of the platoon. Now Milly totally understood.

"Are we ready to drop in on Iran?" DeWitt asked. He looked at Kat.

"I don't know about you, but I feel ready. I know the routines. True, I'm not sure how I'll function when the bad guys start shooting real bullets at me, but, I think I can pass muster. Am I ready to blend in and be an integral, functioning part of the platoon? You'll have to ask Murdock that."

They looked at him. He scowled for a moment, then did the old Jack Benny motion with his arms folded and a curious look on his face. "I'm thinking, I'm thinking." They broke up.

When the laughter simmered down, he nodded. "Yes, I'd like to have two more weeks for platoon-size drills, but if we get the word to fly out tomorrow, I won't be the least bit hesitant to ship Kat and her submachine gun right along with us."

"Oh, thank god, no more sixty-mile hikes," Kat said. They laughed again.

The phone rang. Milly picked it up. "This is the DeWitt residence." She listened for a minute, then smiled. "Yes. Yes, just a second."

She held the phone to Murdock. "Someone wants to talk to YOU."

"Our orders from Don Stroh?" DeWitt asked.

Murdock lifted his brows, and then took the phone. "Murdock here." He listened for a moment, then smiled. "Yes, I think I can arrange that. The Del in ten minutes." He handed the phone to Milly.

"Duty calls," he said, straight-faced. "Did I tell you about my friend in Washington, D.C.?"

"Yes. Ardith, I think her name was," DeWitt said.

"Like I say, duty calls. I'll see you sailors in the morning." He grabbed his hat and headed for the door.

It took Murdock only seven minutes to get to the Del Coronado Hotel and park in the far lot. He wore his off-duty favorites — blue jeans and a Western shirt. As soon as he came into the big Hotel Del lobby, he saw her. For just a moment he paused, watching her, remembering those fine times in Washington, D.C.

She stood in a pose that had to come from years of ballet training straight and tall, feet placed just so; long, golden hair swept down across her shoulders. She turned and saw him. The best smile he'd ever seen brightened her already pretty face. High cheekbones accented her face under the mischievous light blue eyes that could always keep him guessing.

She turned and hurried toward him, reminding him of a prima ballerina moving across to stage left for her solo number. Instead of a tutu she wore a frilly white blouse and a brown skirt showing off just enough of her svelte figure to be interesting.

"Did I surprise you?" she asked, as he caught her shoulders for a quick kiss on her ready lips. He pulled away, and smiled.

"You surprised me, and I can't think of a better one."

"I'm glad. I hear you might be going on a long trip. Wanted to get here before you left."

His face clouded for a moment as what she said registered fully. "Damnit, why doesn't somebody just put a story on the front page of the Washington Post?" He relented at once. "Sorry, not more than half a dozen people know about this. Who was your source?"

"Do I have to tell?"

"Absolutely. I might need to kick some tail. It wasn't my dad, was it?"

"No, nor my father."

"So, who?"

"Let me tell you later. The elevator is right over here."

"Elevator?"

"Why don't we stay here? If we go to your place, I'll have to prove what a lousy cook I am. Here I can fake it."

Murdock laughed and caught her arm. "Lead on, MacDuff." She shook her head. "That should be, 'Lay on, MacDuff.'"

Murdock guffawed. "Hey, I thought that part came later." She punched his shoulder, and they walked into the elevator.

In her room, Murdock kicked the door closed, and she moved into his arms for a long kiss. It was a full-body-pressure kind, with them pressed together from hips to lips. Their mouths opened, and they explored dark passages. At last they broke apart.

"Oh, yes, Blake. Now, that was worth waiting for."

"I might find some more of those." He held her at arm's length. "Really, I need to know who told you."

"Nobody told me anything, actually. I just happened to be talking with Don Stroh the other day — okay, yesterday — and I told him I was going to Los Angeles on business and wondered if this would be a good time to come down and see you."

"Stroh — I might have guessed."

"He only said that now, this week, would be an excellent time. Any later, and I might miss you. So he told me nothing secret, not even when or where you'll be going. If and when you go."

She kissed him seriously. "So, Mr. Secret Man, that was all I found out. I made reservations yesterday, and here I am, weary, flight-worn, but able to stand up… for a little while yet."

"Good, I'll take care of that problem, too. I'm glad that's all he told you. This one is really top of the shop. I bet not even dear old Dad finds out about it until we're done and back home."

"When?"

"We don't know. We need some more intel, then make out our flight sched. It won't be more than a few days, I've got a hunch."

She kissed him again, and they moved to the bed and sat down. The kiss came apart, and he reached for the buttons on her blouse.

"Did I tell you about-" He stopped. "Son of a bitch! I almost did what I accused Don of doing." He shook his head, and kissed both her cheeks and her nose, then a butterfly kiss on her mouth, barely touching her lips. Her eyes closed, and she sighed, and pulled him down with her on the bed.

"Ardith, you vixen. You should have been a spy during the Cold War. You could have charmed the pants off any diplomat on the other side. You could have seduced the secrets right out of Brezhnev himself."

She unbuttoned the fasteners on his shirt. "Thank you if that was a compliment. The only one I want to charm, and seduce, is you." She pulled his shirt out of his pants and reached for his belt. "How am I doing so far?"

An hour later they lay naked side by side on the king-sized bed. Her fingers toyed with the dark hair on his chest.

"Here you thought that three times was too many, and too fast. You sure fooled yourself."

"And happy to do so."

She turned on her side and propped up her head with her elbow. He enjoyed the way it made her full breasts move, bounce, and then sway.

"Oh, yes. A woman's breasts, her most perfect artistic delight."

"Sexist."

"Absolutely. I wouldn't have it any other way." He shut up then; from her expression he knew she was getting serious.

"Have you thought any more about… about some other kind of work for the Navy?"

"Haven't had time. We had to integrate three new men into our sixteen-man platoon. Not an easy or quick task. If they aren't right, or aren't trained right and blended in, the whole platoon could be in trouble on a live-fire mission."

She rolled over, and kissed him deeply, then eased back and lay half on top of him.

"You know how terrible I feel when you're off on a junket somewhere. Junket. Ha. I wish they all could be nice safe missions to countries where we at least have embassies."

"Maybe I'll pick up a million-dollar wound, and not be able to get back in the outfit. Do you know that we lose fourteen men washed out of the SEALs for medical reasons for every man who gets killed? So the odds are…"

She smothered his mouth with her own, and didn't move until they both had to breathe. "Now we talk about things more pleasant. I'd guess you'll be working tomorrow."

"Yes."

"Could you give me a guided tour of your office, your training area?"

"Oh, boy. We usually don't do that… I mean it's not secret or anything. I'd have to get a pass for you from the NAVSPECWAR headquarters. I have planned an all-day exercise for the platoon…"

"All right, I understand. Damnit, that's the trouble, I really do understand."

He kissed her.

"I'll be at your command after five tomorrow afternoon. We can have a picnic on the beach, take a hot air balloon ride, go play at Sea World, make crazy faces at the animals at the San Diego Zoo. Or we can cuddle up in my place while I fix dinner, and then we could have a long, relaxing evening before we have a long, sexy night."

She grinned, and tickled him under the chin. He pulled away from her.

"You remembered that."

"Lieutenant, I remember everything I know or read or discovered about you. Especially that little strange noise you make just before you explode when we're making love. It's delightful, and then I know what's coming, and-" She stopped, and they watched each other.

"Hey, I'd like to vote we go to my place tomorrow. When do you head back to Nutsville?"

"Day after tomorrow on the eight-fifteen A.M. American."

"Oh, damn."

"True.

"What time is it?" he asked.

"It's oh-one-hundred-fifteen, as you Navy types say."

"How about a late-night sandwich, and some champagne? I understand the kitchen is open all night here."

"Yeah, let's give it a try. I want a crab salad sandwich on toasted dill rye, with a pair of kosher dills."

"Crazy lady, you're on." The sandwiches were delicious. The champagne bubbling. The rest of the night a delight.