Silent Vengeance

Chapter 2

A blue pennant with two white stars flew over the USS Preston's masthead of the aftermost mast, the flag of Rear Admiral John Torrinson. Under normal circumstances he'd be on board his flagship only to see the task force through its current mission, patrolling the Indian Ocean. But normal circumstances no longer existed.

Sitting at a round table in the Wardroom, he swiveled back and forth in a black leather chair, ready for the meeting to begin. Joining him were:

Captain Jim Conklin; former commander of a carrier strike group in San Diego; F-14 pilot;

Commander Carl Justine; XO; former F-14 pilot; stationed aboard the Preston 18 months;

Commander Mark Stetson; CAG (Commander Air Group); former Blue Angels pilot, flew Slot #3, Left Wing;

Commander Lou Unger; Air Boss; former A6 Intruder pilot;

NIS special agent Sid Edmunds; Agent Afloat for three months; former sergeant with the Norfolk, Virginia, police.

Torrinson rolled his chair away from the table, got up, and slowly started pacing the room, not even trying to hide his concern from the men watching him.

Captain Conklin directed his question to Stetson. "Mark, are all 'birds' back on deck?"

"Yes, sir. There's a COD from Cubi (Coo-by) due tomorrow. Should I have it delayed?" (NAS Cubi Point was built at the edge of Subic Bay Naval Base.)

Conklin glanced at Torrinson. "What do you think, Admiral?"

"In my opinion, I'd say no. That plane's probably delivering mail. Let's continue 'life as usual' as much as we can for the time being. Morale is going to be an issue, wouldn't you all agree?"

"Yes, sir," the officers answered, or simply nodded in agreement.

Torrinson glanced at his watch before asking, "Jim, have any similar incidents been reported from the task force?"

Conklin shook his head. "Negative. All captains have instructions to contact us immediately if anything remotely similar happens."

Torrinson then turned to Sid Edmunds. "Sid."

"Yes, Admiral?"

"Have you come to any conclusions?"

Edmonds ran a hand over the top of his thick brown hair, his expression obviously showing frustration. "As I indicated earlier, Admiral, I'm positive every incident is drug-related. The men in sickbay haven't been able to offer any information. They've been unconscious since being brought in. But what I can tell you — and Doc Palmer will confirm this — is these just weren't cases of overdoses."

"Are you saying they were … what? Poisoned?!" Torrinson was more concerned then ever.

"I don't know if I'd choose the word 'poisoned' just yet. If it's any type of stimulant, it wouldn't surprise me in the least if the stuff's been used ever since we arrived in this part of the world. But something changed to make all these incidents suddenly happen, and to so many. Either the dosage was more than normal, or something extra may have been added. I'm waiting for final analysis from the small stash I found under Petty Officer Worster's mattress, hidden in a tin."

"Jesus! How the hell is it possible?! Why and who would want to?!" Torrinson's voice reverberated in the room, but no one could answer his questions.

Conklin finally broke the silence and shifted his eyes to Edmonds. "Any idea where or how they got the drugs?"

Edmonds shook his head. "I've run some inquiries but my best guesstimate is they came in on the last COD flight, because if those drugs were carried on board when we arrived in Subic, this disaster probably would've happened a helluva lot sooner."

"So, we've got a dealer or dealers on board," Torrinson commented, disgustedly.

Conklin folded his hands together, tapping them quietly on top of the table. "Just to be on the safe side, Admiral, I'll notify Cubi and have the next COD thoroughly searched before it lifts off."

XO Carl Justine commented, "So, until we know what the drug is, we won't know where it's being 'cooked.'"

"That's right," Edmunds replied. "As soon as we're through here, I'll contact NIS and the DEA and see if they can give us any leads. Maybe they've run into similar incidents."

"I hope," Torrinson began, "that the lockdown for the entire fleet will help until we can get a handle on this."

"It probably will, Admiral, but there's no way in hell scuttlebutt hasn't already filtered throughout the ship."

"I'm sure it has," Torrinson responded.

"I guess we also have to consider the possibility users could be dumping any evidence," Air Boss Unger suggested.

"Maybe that won't be such a bad thing, Lou," Torrinson commented.

Conklin made a suggestion. "Maybe we need to specifically describe the drug. It might bring somebody forward, somebody who may have seen it, or heard about it in passing. And maybe we'd better inform all chiefs and officers on what symptoms to look for, or doesn't it matter, Sid?"

Edmunds ran a hand over his chin. "From what's happened to those men, Captain, once the drug is taken, I don't think anything could prevent the damage."

"You still need to pass the information to the fleet, Jim," Torrinson said. "And one other suggestion. Contact the CO at Subic. Maybe he can start an investigation before NIS sends assistance. There's gotta be somebody on that base who's involved — military or civilian."

"I'll take care of it, sir."

Torrinson turned his attention to Edmunds. "Sid, what happens to users if their supply is cut off?"

"I'm guessing they'd experience reactions just like any other drug user going through withdrawal. But from what we've seen so far, this batch has got to be different from what's been used before. These were intended to be destructive, Admiral."

A quiet fell over the room, until Conklin spoke. "I have a suggestion, Admiral." Torrinson nodded. "We might consider offering therapy sessions. If any of these kids are 'hooked' on this drug, they might be heading for more serious trouble. And us too."

"You mean like 'AA' meetings?"

"Yes, sir."

"I agree with Captain Conklin's suggestion, Admiral," Air Boss Unger said. "We have to consider ourselves extremely lucky that there weren't any accidents during last night's flight ops."

"We're all in agreement with that," Torrinson answered. "Do what you must to get things rolling."

Torrinson walked closer to Edmunds. "Listen, Sid, I know you're just one person trying to cover an entire 'city' by yourself, but we've got to find out what the hell's going on, and before any more men die. Tear this ship apart if you have to."

"Any suggestions where he should begin?" Conklin asked.

Torrinson sat down, then leaned back, linking his fingers behind his head. "I'll leave it up to him, but it looks as though he'll be needing assistance."

"Sure could use the help, Admiral, especially if it means an investigation on land, and I have a feeling we're headed in that direction."

"Let me see what I can do. The NSA and CIA should have 'eyes and ears' on this part of the world. Maybe they can zero in and take a closer look and listen."

"Except for Sid, you're probably the only one on board who has any knowledge of how those groups operate, Admiral," XO Carl Justine remarked with a slight smile.

"Had plenty of opportunities to work with those gentlemen, Carl. I just hope they don't hold it against me. Oh, Sid, Jim, have either of you discovered any pattern to all this?"

Conklin answered, "The only pattern I see so far is the incidents have only affected enlisted men — no chiefs or officers."

"Same for me, Admiral," Edmunds commented. "It sounds like the 'pusher' was specifically targeting men below E-7. That's pure guess on my part, but I don't have any other explanation."

Conklin ran a hand over his hair, commenting, "The younger crowd who wants to experiment, or those who think they need 'help' completing their duties. But it might be the direction we need to go for further investigation."

The phone rang. Every officer in the room locked his eyes on it. XO Justine answered. The conversation was very brief, and as he cradled the receiver, the expression on his face was positive proof of more bad news. "Petty Officer Helmon just died."

Torrinson lost his composure and pounded a fist on the table. "Dammit!" He lowered his head and quietly muttered, "All young men." He looked toward Conklin. "Jim, I assume the bodies have been stored in the 'chill' room."

"Yes, sir."

"If this were a time of war, we would bury them at sea. But it isn't, so we must do what's necessary, respecting those men and their families."

"Admiral, if you're thinking we need to fly them off the ship soon, a chopper can transport them to Diego Garcia. It's the closest base from our current position. From there a transport can take them to the States."

"It'd be best if we did, Jim."

"I'll make arrangements, then notify the families when those arrangements are finalized." Conklin shifted in his chair. "Admiral, what about the men in sickbay? Do you want to send them to the hospital in Subic?"

"Let's have Doc Palmer make that decision."

XO Justine had just sat down when the phone rang again. Everyone remained quiet, keeping their eyes on the XO. "Say again?!" He spun around, facing the men at the table. "Very well." He hung up, then quietly said, "Petty Officer Jacob Ahrens failed to report for his watch this morning. They just found one of his dog tags near the fantail."

"Holy Christ!" Conklin slowly shook his head, staring at his XO.

"There's more, sir," Justine said. "He left a note hidden under his pillow. He said he was sorry, but he didn't know this would happen."

"That's it?!" Torrinson asked, rubbing his hands briskly together.

"Yes, sir, except, he was a storekeeper."

"Supply," Edmunds commented. "I guess we know who our dealer was." But then he thought about the sailor who committed suicide. "I guess there's not much chance he could still be alive, floating out there somewhere."

XO Justine replied matter of factly, "If he went off the fantail, the churning of the screws would've sucked him under in a heartbeat. If he survived that, he wouldn't stand much of a chance being out there any length of time — or survive whatever else was swimming around."

"Jesus! What a way to die," Edmunds commented quietly.

"I'll order a search and rescue chopper to head out now," Conklin said, as he rolled his chair back, then went to the phone. "We have to at least try."

"I hate to add this to the uncertainties already 'on the table,'" Torrinson began, "but why are we only considering there's one dealer? Or, were you all thinking the same?" Heads bobbing up and down proved the men agreed.

"He, or they could've hidden the supply anywhere," Edmunds commented, "and even if Petty Officer Ahrens wasn't working alone, he could've dumped it before jumping. It's not likely he let anyone know of his … intentions."

Torrinson agreed. "True, but it's possible he didn't have time to trash all of it."

"If anything came in during replenishment or on a COD, the hangar bay could've been the quickest place to stash the goods. I could start searching there," Edmunds said. "A few extra men should make the search go quicker."

Conklin came back to the table. "I'll see that it happens, Sid."

Torrinson looked at his watch again. "Hmm. Twenty-three hundred in D.C." He rolled his chair away from the table. "Unless there's anything else, gentlemen, it's time for me to wake up Vice Admiral Gamble, then he can send the data up the chain of command. Washington will have the responsibility of deciding when and if information is released to the outside world. In the meantime, we've all got work to do."