“Until we land, we have authority to execute them.”
“What about the newsies?”
“Heavylift, make sure only the SEALS and reporters are fully belted in. We may have to do some evasive maneuvers. Is your side door still open?”
Heavylift knew immediately what was needed to happen. He had played political games for too fucking long. He called the L.T. on coms, “L.T. secure your boys and the reporters only. Make sure the side door is open. We need to lose some dead weight.”
The SEALS made sure the reporters were sealed up nice and tight and then took their seats and buckled up after opening the door. Heavylift then did a radical twist, or corkscrew motion at 5000 feet up and both perps slid out the door without a sound; the L.T. having knocked the caller unconscious as well as a courtesy.
The reporters had fits.
“You did that on purpose! You killed those men in cold blood!”
“Actually, gentlemen, Mexico is under martial law. The President of Mexico has publicly stated, time and again, that any and all major crimes were punishable immediately through summary justice with the death penalty. You can take it up with the President if you like when we get to the Embassy but as far as any of us are concerned it was an accident. We were flying back from the mission when the chopper had to avoid something, and the two perps slid out the door. So sad, yes?”
“But U.S. troops have rules of engagement!”
“L.T. laughed, you still don’t understand, do you? We are a Black Opps unit, on mission, in a foreign country, with whom the United States has declared war. We are what is called a ‘wet’ team. During a mission, if we decide someone has to die… they die. We kill people on a daily basis with no remorse. So, my only question to you gentlemen is this, are you going to be a problem? I mean, we put our lives on the line to get you to safety. I guess I can understand if a liberal mindset would not appreciate what we did for you; but to judge us by peacetime standards is pretty fucked up if you ask me.”
All four reporters got a bit sheepish.
“Let me forewarn you all and just spell it out. We all have diplomatic immunity as well as a Presidential Pardon for anything we do. Now, we would like to be able to bring you home safely. Regardless, you can complain all you want. No one can arrest us, charge us, or prosecute us… even if we went after witnesses who would never see us coming. Gentlemen, you are NOT in Kansas anymore.”
Every SEAL member on the helicopter echoed, “Roger that L.T.!”
0o0
When we arrived back at the Embassy Afloat, everyone met on the second deck and the reporters were brought before the Presidents of both Mexico and the United States.
Bill asked, “Well gentlemen, no worse for wear I assume?”
One of the reporters then complained, “Mr. President. With all due respect and appreciation for being rescued, the team with us allowed two perpetrators to be killed, falling out of our chopper. They intentionally killed those two men.”
Bill held up his hand. “Hold up a second there, slim. Were those men pushed out of the chopper?”
“Well, no Mr. President. They were not secured in seats by this strike team like they did for us and when the helicopter made a sudden move, they slid out.”
“So, because this team did not give the two perps the same level of courtesy as they did you four reporters, you are claiming they intentionally killed them?”
“They planned it!”
“What proof do you have? Heavylift, I assume you had to do an emergency procedure or something, why was it necessary?”
“There was a group of large birds in the air, Mr. President. They could have damaged the Sea Stallion if I had not avoided them. The fact the two perps slid out is just a very sad accident.”
Bill looked at the reporters. “Well, it seems to me, you four decided to get aggressive with a local police department who had you arrested for your troubles. You do realize this is a foreign country with whom we are at war and Mexico has a history of not putting up with that shit; Yes? What you don’t know is you were being held for ransom. Captain Barns, can you play that phone call back for our reporters here, please?”
“One moment, Mr. President.”
“This was a phone call to the President of Mexico. Maybe it will help you put things in perspective.”
The reporters immediately recognized the caller’s voice.
When the tape was finished Bill continued, “So, as you heard, you were being held for ransom. Ambassador Walker here, in order to rescue you all as expediently as possible, offered to put his security detail under the auspices of President Isabella who accepted his offer and she then ordered they plan and implement a rescue, reminding them they were to operate under Mexican law during the mission. So, really, you should be directing your complaint to Lady Isabella.”
“However, before you do something foolish you might want to reconsider your complaint.”
Beth immediately stood in front of the four reporters with her legs slightly parted, fists on her hips, and an eyebrow raised, “Did I make a mistake rescuing you?”
None of the reporters answered her question. Walsh then got fighting mad. I mean, her hair seemed to light on fire. She slapped the table and yelled, “ANSWER HER! THE PRESIDENT OF MEXICO JUST ASKED YOU A QUESTION!”
The slap of the table was like a thunderclap and most everyone jumped. “No-ma’am. Thank you, Madam President.”
Bill chuckled, “Well, I guess this whole mission is now put to bed. Red? Can you make arrangements for these reporters to be escorted to the carrier? Have Hillibrand set them up with quarters.”
Red chuckled, “Aye, Mr. President. Come with me boys.” Red led them up to the bridge and radioed HL. (When speaking privately Red suggested the hot bunks in the nuclear power room might be appropriate–to which HL laughed, “Wow, these fellas really screwed up, eh?”)
After they left, Bill looked at us and said, “Thank goodness you had enough common sense not to bring them onto U.S. soil.”
“Sorry Bill. It was my call to capture them, and I was bringing them back when my L.T. asked if I really wanted to do that. I realized the legal shit storm it would create, particularly with the press present, and we corrected my mistake. The credit for that goes to the team.”
Bill smiled, “And that is the mark of a good leader, Harry. Someone who can be told they were making a mistake and then accepting they did and fixing the problem. All too many people in our position just cannot bring themselves to do that. They think it makes them appear weak, which is bullshit.”
“What makes them appear weak is when they cannot think for themselves and never stand up against criticism when they know they are right or cannot accept constructive criticism when they are wrong. But a leader always should be true to themselves and their beliefs… often in the face of criticism. You did it all in that short period of time. Hence, my assessment of you being a good leader.”
0o0
“Captain Hillibrand, the–gentlemen–are here to see you.”
“Gentlemen? What the hell you talking about, Charley?”
HL looked up to see the 4 reporters in very rumpled clothes which were covered in concrete dust, “Ah, yes. Our infamous reporters. Who the hell did you boys piss off?”
“Pretty much the whole special operations team that saved us, the President of Mexico, The United States President, and a woman named Walsh.”
HL was in the process of sipping some coffee when he sputtered and spit it out on the deck. “You mean you pissed of Walsh and lived to talk about it? You boys have some brass balls!”
“We are more concerned about upsetting the President.”
“LOL, only because you are all ignorant sons of bitches.” HL played the tape of Walsh breaking the timbers with her bare hands as the reporters watched open mouthed. “As I said, you pissed off THAT woman and lived! Frankly ‘Gentlemen’, I am very impressed. The last three men who pissed her off were dead before they could hit the ground.”
One of the reporters asked, “Who the hell are these people?”
HL and his X.O. Laughed loudly, “That is waaay beyond your pay grade, son. X.O., set these boys up in their accommodations we discussed earlier.”
The X.O. smiled, “Aye Aye, Captain. Gentlemen, if you will exit the room, you will find the C.O.B. waiting outside the door for you to get you cleaned up and bunked.”
One of the reporters then piped up, “Don’t think I don’t know the naval meaning of calling someone a ‘gentleman’.”
HL laughed, “And don’t think that your status as a reporter while on a U.S. warship during time of war means jack shit. You four can eat with the crew. And stay out of my sailors’ way. I don’t want you on board my ship in the first place so be careful not to fall overboard. We will not come looking for you.” HL then glowered, “Now get out of my sight before you piss me off and I haul your asses up before a Captain’s Mast.”
0o0
C.O.B. just said, “Follow me.” He led the four reporters down into the bowels of the carrier and into the nuclear power plant room. He gave each of them a radiation tag and had them strip so their clothes could be washed. He also directed them to the radiation shower with a bar of soap. “Use one gallon to get wet, soap up, and use 2 gallons to rinse.”
He then gave them towels, “Wrap up in these until your clothes are cleaned. They will be returned to you in a few hours’ time.” C.O.B. then showed the reporters four 2 foot by 2 foot by 6 foot alcoves with bed sheets and a pillow in them…these are your births.”
“This is bullshit!”
C.O.B. Laughed, “Welcome to the Navy, boys. Oh, by the way, I would be sure to wear those rad tags 24/7. Who the hell did you fellas piss off anyways?”
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