1
NCIS Special Operations, San Diego, California
Special Agent Shea Palmer was asked to come to the San Diego office for Special Operations without any explanation. But she was used to changing directions with ease. She spent most of her time on high-risk deployments or undercover. That’s what she did for NCIS. Pretend to be someone else.
She headed up to Rebecca Lawrence’s office, and it was feeling very official, something that was hush hush—confidential, covert and classified. The three big C’s.
“Please have a seat, Agent Palmer,” Rebecca said as she finished up something on her screen. She’d indicated the conference table in her office, so Shea pulled out a chair, giving Rebecca a puzzled, but interested look.
“Sorry to keep you waiting,” Rebecca said, taking a seat at the head of the table. “Busy day as usual.” She set a file down in front of her and reached for the clicker on the table for the widescreen mounted on the wall. She pressed the clicker and the picture of a man flashed onto the screen.
“Ryan Easton, deceased, former leader of New World Order, now defunct. He and several of his members took over Moonbeam Horizon in the Santa Barbara Channel, where Easton was killed along with numerous other members of his organization. His compound was also raided, and everyone rounded up and incarcerated. That was an impressive operation,” Shea said. “They believe that Saudi Arabia played a bigger hand in training and equipping the terrorist on 9/11. They weren’t keen on oil and gas companies linked to the Saudis.”
Rebecca clicked on the screen and it went to black. “You do your homework.”
“Anything that has to do with terrorism is in my bailiwick, so I stay informed.”
“Do you know what it takes to enter training to become a Navy SEAL, Shea?”
“Basic Underwater Demolition/SEAL Training or BUD/S,” she said, then shifted in her seat, a smile forming on her face. “It takes a special person, not only to endure the tests, but have the drive to get past every obstacle no matter the difficulty. It’s designed to make you quit.” She paused and then said, “It’s damned hard, ma’am,”
Rebecca nodded. “New World Order is not defunct.”
Shea sat up straighter, frowning. “We missed someone?”
“Several someones, apparently.” She leaned forward. “I have an undercover assignment for you.”
Shea pinned Rebecca with a firm gaze. “What’s the mission?”
Rebecca’s eyes beamed. “One of the captured terrorists said something else had been planned. Something big.” She depressed the clicker and an image of Coronado came up. “He indicates that several younger members of the order have received a Navy contract for BUD/S, and they are planning on making a statement. The only thing he could give us was the class number. We don’t have names or descriptions.”
“How is that possible? These guys are militants. How did they get through without getting snagged in the psyche eval?”
“Apparently, they had a former SEAL who had become disillusioned with the service and he coached them and from the reports I’ve gotten, he did a good job.”
“I see. That’s disturbing. What’s my cover?”
“We want you to go in as a videographer to root out who is part of the order and stop whatever they have planned. We think, with your background, you can rise to the challenge.” Rebecca leaned back and regarded her with shrewd eyes. “There’s another catch. At this time, no one, not even the instructors will know you’re undercover, but assignments are always fluid. So, if things change on that front, I will brief you.”
There was silence in the room. Dealing with a bunch of aggressive, alpha males would be nothing new. She had enough to deal with in NCIS, where she had to work a bit harder to prove herself, not only as a female agent, but as an undercover one.
But proving herself had been something she’d been doing since she realized that her dad had wanted all boys instead of the one son and two daughters he got.
“BUD/S is twenty-four weeks,” Rebecca said, “with Hell Week on the fourth week.”
Shea knew what Hell Week was, and it would be grueling for her to film for that long, but much harder on the trainees.
“You expect me to follow them all the way through to graduation?”
“It depends. If you discover who the members are in the class any time before they graduate, we can pull you out.”
“That sounds like a plan.”
Rebecca nodded. “We have a mission to protect our sailors and this incoming class is made up of some tough, elite guys. We can’t afford to lose one of them to anything, not training or terrorist acts.”
Shea had taken an oath when she’d joined NCIS. This was probably one of the more important missions they’d asked her to do, protecting not only her country but also the young men who would be the future of the Navy SEALs. She was ready to do her job no matter the mission. She never backed down. “When do I start?” Shea asked.
Rebecca nodded. “All right. BUD/S commences in a week on Coronado.” She pulled out a packet. “Here is your press pass, and you will be provided with a quick and dirty training on the camera that we’ll also provide you with.”
“When?”
“Someone will be in touch.”
After a few minutes, there was a knock on the door. “Come in,” Rebecca said.
A woman entered, seasoned with experienced brown eyes, her dark hair pulled back off her attractive face, accenting her sharp cheekbones and firm jaw.
“Mak,” Shea said with affection.
“Hi, weary traveler,” Mak said with a smile as Shea rose and they hugged briefly. Special Operations had a few offices sprinkled around the area to handle all NCIS investigative and undercover needs.
“Mak, Chris, Kai and Paige were part of the team who brought down NWO,” Rebecca said.
“Where’s Vargas?” Shea asked, thinking the handsome agent was always fun to hang out with when Shea was back in San Diego between assignments. In fact, Makayla Ballentine, formerly Littlestar, who had been recently married, Kai Talbot and Paige Wilder were all great to sit down with and share shop talk and catch up with their personal lives, well as much as Shea was willing to share since her recent loss had crippled her ability to be carefree.
“Chris is on another assignment, an investigation into pilot deaths aboard the USS James McCloud,” Mak said. She closed the door and sat down. “Let’s get started.” Mak opened the file she’d brought with her.
They had discussed possible suspects after looking at the large class of recruits. Since Shea had never been to that part of the base, she and Mak headed over to Naval Amphibious Base Coronado for a walkthrough of the BUD/S compound. Coronado, for all intents and purposes, was an island connected to the mainland by a narrow strip of eight miles of sand called the Silver Strand. NAB was the West Coast shore base for naval amphibious operations, including training and special warfare. Naval Surface Force, U.S. Pacific Fleet, Naval Special Warfare Command and Expeditionary Warfare were all housed there. The North Island Naval Air Station, known as NAS North Island, providing maintenance, training, and repair for the Naval Air Command of the Pacific Fleet, was located to the north.