The Case Officer Read Free Page A

cipher lock at the entrance of the Marine Security Guard office and pushed
open the heavy teak door.
    Gunnery Sergeant Bradshaw had his
feet up on his desk, talking to his staff sergeant, a short, stocky fellow
named Gillis. Gillis was leaning back in a chair on the other side of the desk.
He spat a wad of Copenhagen snuff into a coffee can he held in his lap and
jumped up as the captain entered.
    “At ease, men.” MacMurphy fell into
a chair next to Sergeant Gillis. “We’ve got a problem,” he sighed.
    The captain briefed the two NCOs on the events that had
occurred during the two meetings with the ambassador. When he had finished,
Gunny Bradshaw caressed his shaved head thoughtfully and raised his lanky frame
from the chair behind his desk. He turned slowly to his commanding officer.
“You have gotta be fuckin’ shittin’ me, sir! That dumb ass wants us to hunker
down here while the skinnies out there storm the walls and take over this
compound? He won’t let us evacuate, and he won’t let us fight. Is that the
friggin’ situation, sir?”
    “That’s about it, Gunny. Those
are his…. orders . But Spinelli’s sending a message in his channel
outlining the problem and the critical situation, so I think the CIA guys will
intervene with State at the highest level. Maybe that’ll help move’em off the
dime. I certainly hope so…”
    “Let’s hope someone grabs that
cocksucker by his goddamn stackin’ swivel and pounds some sense into him,”
growled the gunny, his voice resonating like the Parris Island Drill Instructor
he had once been. He shook his head. “But I doubt it. Those State Department
pogues are all alike. I’ve heard tell that their new hires get their gonads surgically
removed during the junior officer training course.”
    MacMurphy smiled—the first light
moment he had had all day, and it felt good to relieve the tension.
    Sergeant Gillis, who had been
listening quietly the whole time, flexed his powerful shoulders, spit a wad of
brown juice into the coffee can, and said quietly, “There’s another solution.”
    “Yeah, what’s that, Sergeant?”
asked the gunny.
    “We can take things into our own
hands. We can’t force him to evacuate like he should, but we can defend ourselves.
We can’t let them bastards blast in here without a fight. And they will blast in here if we can’t keep them at bay. But maybe we can slow them down a
bit till the goddamned ambassador comes to his senses or has someone slam his
senses down his throat. Anyway, that’s what I think.”
    The gunny and MacMurphy studied
Gillis carefully, each wondering what the other was thinking. They looked at
each other and nodded.
    MacMurphy said, “That’s exactly
what I’ve been thinking, but we’ve got to be very careful. It’s mutiny, you
know…direct disobedience of orders. Let’s head on down to the armory for a
little pow-wow.” He turned to Sergeant Gillis. “Assemble the detachment and
meet the gunny and me down there right away. I’ve got an idea, but if we’re
going to act, we need to move fast. It’ll be dark in just a few hours, and if
they decide to attack, that’s when they’re gonna do it.”
    “Roger that, sir,” said Gillis.
He was out the door before he completed the phrase.
     
    Chapter Four
     
    T he armory was located behind a
vault door in the basement of the chancery building. The windowless room
smelled of cleaning solvent and gun oil. Its walls were lined with racks of
M-16s, Squad Automatic Weapons (SAWs), a few AK-47s, flak jackets, and various
other weapons and combat gear. In the center of the room was a long, dark wood,
oil soaked cleaning table surrounded by wooden benches. When the last Marine
had entered the room and had settled himself on a bench with the rest of the
security guard detachment, Gunnery Sergeant Bradshaw called the meeting to
order.
    “Where’s Corporal Kelley?” he
asked.
    “He’s at Post Number One,” a
Marine responded.
    “Oh yeah, right. Thanks.