The Emerald Scepter

CHAPTER FOUR

Instead of going out for a smoke, Captain McCormick strode briskly to a nearby office building. Moments later he entered a sparsely furnished room. A gaunt man sat in front of a computer.

“Nice acting job,” the seated man said.

“Thanks.” The captain pulled up a chair. “I can only stay a few minutes or the others will wonder what I’m doing. How’s it going?”

The man pointed to the screen. “Pretty much as I figured. I’ll rerun the part you just missed.”

The screen showed Fletcher and Hawkins alone in the room.

“Sorry about the captain’s rudeness, Lieutenant Hawkins.”

“Thanks. But let’s face it — I’m not the person you need for a job this complicated.”

Fletcher tapped the dossier. “You’re pretty complicated yourself. May I call you Matt? Or maybe you would prefer your full name. Matinicus. Named for where you were born?”

“That name was inflicted on me by my parents. I was conceived on Matinicus Island. My mother was a flower child before she became an ornithologist. My father was a Maine lobster fisherman.”

“Then you can understand the importance of bait,” Fletcher said with a smile.

He slid a sealed envelope stamped Confidential across the table. Printed on a white label were the words: “Report on Matinicus Hawkins, Afghanistan, 2007. Summary of Findings.”

“Open it,” Fletcher said. “It won’t bite.”

Hawkins slowly bent the metal clasp, folded the flap back, and slid out a sheaf of papers. The report was impossible to read. Line after line had been blacked out.

“Someone had some fun with a Sharpie,” he said.

“I agree. It’s totally useless. However, I can place in your hands a copy that has not been redacted. Of course, you would have to be under naval jurisdiction, if only temporarily.”

Hawkins gazed at the envelope with half-lidded eyes then picked up the report. He knew more about fishing than Fletcher could ever know.

“I’d love to see the un-redacted version.”

“I don’t blame you. Your Afghanistan experience obviously has been gnawing away at you. You must want to know what happened.”

“Yeah,” Hawkins said, shifting in his chair. “Good thing this is as far as your offer goes. I feel myself weakening.”

“Then let me see if I can weaken you a bit more. Name it and it is yours if at all possible.”

“Okay. I want my psychiatric discharge reversed.”

“That’s—”

“Call it a down payment.”

Fletcher frowned. “It might take a while. We’re dealing with the navy bureaucracy.”

“It would be in your interest as well as mine. You wouldn’t want anyone to learn that a delicate mission was entrusted to a crazy man.”

“You raise a valid point, Mr. Hawkins.”

“I’m not through,” Hawkins said. “Who owns the operation if it flops?”

“The government would need plausible deniability. The story would be that you’re a rogue operation.”

“In that case, let’s add some truth to the spin. I want my own team and will make my own logistical arrangements.”

“But as you said, this is a big, complicated job,” Fletcher said.

“Which is why the simpler the better. I’ll let you know if I need help.”

“The situation is fluid and can tolerate no delay. We can give you a fully-equipped team ready to go as soon as you pack your toothbrush. How long will it take to pull together your own people?”

Hawkins cleared his throat. “Twenty-four hours. We can be ready to go in forty-eight.”

Fletcher looked as if Hawkins had told him the moon was made of green cheese. “There’s no margin for error. Everything would have to go off without a hitch.”

“That’s the way I want it.”

“Very well. I will insist, though, on daily updates, except when absolutely impossible.”

“I’ll do my best, but I will insist that we remain an independent entity. Since this is a last-minute job, I will need access to back up. Someone I can call with no questions asked.”

Fletcher nodded. “Very well, lieutenant. I’ll put you in contact with a provider.”

“I’ll need financial support.”

“You will have an open-ended bank account accessed by a secret number. Anything else?”

From the smile on Fletcher’s face, the question was meant to be sardonic, but the smug expression vanished when Hawkins said, “Yes there is. My research contract with the navy was canceled. I want it reinstated. And someone sabotaged my boat. I want reimbursement.”

“Those things are not connected with this mission.”

“Maybe you can connect them.”

Fletcher spread his palms apart. “I’ll do my best, but I must remind you again that time is crucial.”

Hawkins slid the envelope back across the polished surface of the table and rose from his chair. “In that case we’d better not waste another minute.”

McCormick watched on the screen as Hawkins left, then he said, “Never expected him to demand the psychiatric discharge and the other stuff. Didn’t you say he’d take the job for patriotic reasons with the report as sweetener?”

“His demands surprised me too.”

“I thought you said Hawkins was predictable.”

“Up to a point. He has a problem with self-control — he certainly responded to your demeaning taunts exactly the way I said he would.”

“Yeah, he wanted to tear my throat out. How do you reconcile that with his obvious control in negotiating a deal?”

“Are you familiar with chaos theory?”

“Somewhat. It says it’s impossible to predict accurately what a dynamic system will do. You know a hurricane is coming, but you’re not always sure where it will hit. What’s that got to do with anything?’

The gaunt man gestured at the screen. “Hawkins is chaos theory personified.”

McCormick said, “That’s not good. I read about his record in Tora Bora. He was with the SEAL unit that would have got Bin Laden the first time if command hadn’t screwed up. He makes Rambo look like Little Lord Fauntleroy, only he’s no muscle head. He thinks as well as he acts. Look at the way he just played Fletcher. I hope we’ve made the right choice.”

“We have. Don’t forget, I signed his psychiatric discharge papers. I know he’s intelligent. But Hawkins is headstrong and impulsive as well as smart. Look at his insistence, against all logic, on forming his own team. He’s like a guided missile. Point him in the right direction and he’ll explode. The unknown quantity is the extent of the damage. Predictable unpredictability.”

McCormick got up. “I have to get back to the meeting.”

As he walked the short distance to the former poorhouse, the captain chewed over the gaunt man’s assessment. He didn’t like the way Hawkins had taken command of the situation. Didn’t like it one bit.

But the chaos theory analogy bothered him even more. He shook his head and muttered under his breath.

“Predictable unpredictability, my ass.”