Emily's Mark

By Robert Howerter

The fourth and final of the Mac series. Mac, a black ops Marine captain, meets a Navy nurse, Emily, on a carrier during the Gulf War. Their passionate love affair creates jealousy in a fellow Marine who attempts to kill Mac. Emily learns a fact that abrubptly ends her relationship with Mac, leaving him inconsolable. He soon leaves the service to create his civilian life which evolves from CIA to lawyer to politician, as laid out in books 1-3 of the Mac series. Twenty years later while in Paris, Mac accidentally sees Emily in a restaurant, and they renew their ardor, even though Mac is married with a young daughter.
A terrorist group is starting to create problems in France with their sinister model of re-establishing a different society using technology as a weapon. Mac directs CIA agents as they infiltrate the terrorist organization in Paris with the mission to destroy the group before they succeed. The characters on both sides seem to switch roles between good and evil as the story unfolds in death and deceit. The terrorist leader, Scorpion, propagates havoc in society, thus creating one thrilling page after another. Emily's relationship to Mac becomes the basis of danger to her as Dodson, Mac's longtime nemesis, attempts to kill her to get even with Mac. Behind the backdrop of adventure, romance and intrigue, Emily carries a secret from her days as a Navy nurse that will dramatically affect Mac's life and his family. Romance and sex are the reality of life amid the carnage and death that the author constructs. The combination makes a fast-paced novel that is difficult to put down.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Robert Howerter
• Release date: Jan 31, 2013
• ISBN: 9781301782253

Robert Howerter

After being a combat photographer during the Belgium Congo revolution and the Algerian war with France in the US military, Robert Howerter graduated from Kent State University in 1968 with a degree in English. However, he spent almost his entire life working in computer software design and implementation, and in executive management of several large companies. He often spoke to technology leaders by giving speeches in numerous countries, travelling to 45 of them. Upon retirement as a Director, Price Waterhouse World Firm, he decided to put his writing skills to work, penning numerous newspaper articles on gardening. He has written four novels in a series, Grayfield, The Normandy Appointment, The Marquis' Inheritance, and Emily's Mark, as well as his newest, The Crown Project,. Much of what he learned about France was in Normandy where he lived, and in Paris, the city he loves. Currently, he resides with his wife in the Tampa Bay area.

Book preview

Chapter 1

Red Sea, February 8, 1991

It was akin to the sonorous thunder of a tornado ripping across the plains; that's what a Midwesterner would understand. Mac always winced when he heard the F-15s leave the deck of the carrier, a sound similar to what he remembered about those awful storms In the midwest. As a Marine captain, he knew the difference, but his brain always thought of the mindless wind tunnels that created the devil-may-care devastation. The F-15s also kept their promise from their beginning. It was a feat that always astounded Mac, even though he knew the capability of their destructive power.

He continued down the narrow dark corridor, lit with dim lights as he moved forward. His brown eyes were firmly fixed on his destination, a meeting with his commander. Mac always walked quickly, to the dismay of any females he dated who tried their best keep up with him. The deck thunder of the planes again surrounded his psyche as he moved faster, trying in his mind to out-run them. Mac was always competitive, focused, and usually won. He didn't look to the side as he walked, but concentrated his eyes on the distant passage. His mind was concerned with his soon-to-be meeting, an obligation and not one to which he ever would be late.

His six-foot two-inch frame took long strides silenced by the thunder above. They were strong stretches of his limbs, ever moving forward with the confidence he exuded. The air conditioning blew in his face as the humid heat of the gulf suffocated the outside of the carrier.

Out of the corner of his eye he saw a Navy uniform moving quickly from a side hallway, but it was too late, the collision unavoidable and inevitable. Navy Ensign Emily Copley tumbled to the deck with Mac falling forward onto her. They were now face-to-face, and he was aghast at his clumsiness.

Oh, I'm so sorry. Please forgive me, he stammered as he tried to get to his feet.

It was my fault. I shouldn't have been walking so fast--Sir, she added as she got up and noticed the captain’s bars on his shoulder.

Sir, I've seen you at mess, but we've never met. I'm Ensign Copley, Emily, she added as she held out her hand.

At five-foot-five inches, she stood seven inches shorter than Mac, and her eyes softened as she looked into his handsome face. She also saw in his demeanor one of honor and sensitivity.

Mark McDonald, but it's Mac to my friends. Again, please forgive me. It was my clumsiness, and it was unlike me. I'd like to make it up to you. What about coffee in the mess?

I'd like that, but unfortunately I'm just starting my shift, and we have more casualties on the ship than in the last few days.

Mac looked at her uniform, and noticed the nurse's insignia. He had been focused so much on his awkwardness and her pretty face that he failed to notice the emblem on her lapel.

I understand. I'm also off to a meeting with my boss, but maybe we can meet later, say 1400 in mess wardroom 2.

Make it 1530 in the mess, and it's a date--Sir.

It's Mac, please, and I'll be there. Also, I hope to have cured my bungling movements by then.

Okay, Mac, but it’s still ‘Sir’ in public.

See you then, he mouthed as he watched her amble down the corridor from which he came, a smile on his face as he observed her butt wiggle beneath her slacks.

Suddenly remembering the meeting, he hurriedly continued down the hall, but this time paying closer attention to any connecting passages. Upon reaching the commander’s door, he stood at attention and knocked three times.

Enter, was the word he expected. He opened the door and went in.

Captain McDonald reporting as ordered, Sir, he distinctly and loudly spoke the words as he stood at attention.

At ease, Captain. Captain Sands is here with us since I wanted both of you to hear this together. We're getting a lot of heat in Washington to take out as many SCUD missile complexes as we can. It seems like they're everywhere. Also, there has been some evidence that some of these missiles carry chemicals.

Commander Brewster picked up his pen, and stood. He paced to the back of his office, and around the two captains seated there.

That's the reason you're here. In a few days, you will be on a covert black ops assignment in western Iraq. You know the drill. You've been there before. On this operation, you will destroy all SCUD missiles, as well as kill all combatants. If possible, samples of the chemicals are to be flown to the carrier for analysis. We expect to have reconnaissance materials that are being gathered to be available tomorrow. That should give you enough information to do a dry run. I want you to start preparations, so that when I give the order, you can leave within the hour. Do I make myself clear?

Yes, Sir, both captains replied.

One more thing. I know that both of you do not like each other very much. I don't know whether it's a natural rivalry or if it's based on some situation from the past. I don't care. However, I want both of you to work together as if you were brothers and best of friends. If I find out otherwise, I will make sure you lose your commissions and serve the rest of your time in the enlisted ranks. That sounds harsh, but this is a most important mission, and I don't want it screwed up. Both of you are only on the ship for two weeks, so you'd better figure out a way to make your relationship work. Are there any questions?

Both Mac and Sands shifted in their chairs uncomfortably. Mac was the first to speak.

Sir. Who will lead this mission?

Both of you are the most senior officers in black ops on the ship. Both of you are qualified to lead this project. However, Captain McDonald has had his rank one month longer than Captain Sands. As such, Mac will take the lead in this effort. Is there any further discussion?

No, Sir.

Don't waste any time because it will most likely be a matter of only a few days before you leave. Dismissed.

Aye, Aye, Sir.

Both men turned and quickly left the room. They silently walked together down the corridor until they were alone.

What started this misunderstanding that we seem to have with each other? Mac blurted, taking Sands off guard.

I don't know. It probably was over a woman. It usually is.

For the next week, let's put our differences behind us or both of us might be sorry. I like my job, and don't want to screw it up. Agreed? Mac asked, now standing face-to-face with Sands as if waiting for the most important decision of their lives.

Agreed, Sands quickly replied, knowing that it was their only choice.

Great. I'm going back to my quarters, and make plans to assemble our equipment. Let's meet tomorrow morning and work out several possible strategies based on what we might encounter. I hope we have reconnaissance by then. We have to assume that it will be a difficult place to get into, especially if the evidence of chemicals is correct. It will be heavily guarded. Give that some thought overnight, and let's get together at 0800. Agreed?

The two parted, and Mac returned to his stateroom. It was the normal two-stacked bed orientation for junior officers, complete with one stainless steel sink and a desk and chair. Mac was sharing the room with a lieutenant from black ops that came with him. He immediately sat down at the desk and started to jot down a list of materials that they would need for their mission. Mac had done this many times, so the preparation was not a difficult one.

Rifles with low-light night scopes

Sig Sauer P226 pistols with clips

Mark II daggers

M67 grenades

Explosives

Night vision scopes

Flak jackets

Radios

Infrared beacons

Three MH-60 Black Hawks with no markings

Black clothing with no markings

Mac reviewed the list, and then looked at his watch. 1520.

I almost forgot; coffee with Emily is in ten minutes. Maybe she won't show. That's happened to me before. Okay Mac, don't prejudge the future. Get your ass in gear and move.

Mac shoved the paper in the desk drawer, and locked it. Nine minutes later he arrived at the officer's mess and went in. No one was there except Ensign Copley who was seated at a table towards the back. It was a medium sized room holding about twelve tables seating six each. They all had spotless white table cloths. He walked quickly towards her, and as he approached, she rose and stood at attention.

Sir, she said loudly in a staccato fashion.

At ease, Ensign. May I call you Emily?

Yes, of course. It's Mac, isn’t it?

You bettcha. You're my new friend. At least I hope so.

Anyone who's on time is definitely a friend of mine. You must have been well taught.

It's always been a trait of mine, one that my parents instilled in me from an early age, Mac responded, all the while measuring her attributes.

Five-foot-five, brown hair and hazel eyes, about 120 pounds, and maybe twenty-three or twenty-four years old, he surmised.

May I get you some coffee? Mac softly asked.

Please, one cream and no sugar.

Mac walked to the side board, and poured two cups.

Thanks, she murmured with a smile, as Mac placed the cup in front of her. As a Marine, what are you doing here?

It's just the normal two-week training session that we’re assigned to periodically. Nothing special, he lied.

What's your specialty, other than running into young ladies? she continued with a smile.

Mac always felt uncomfortable when someone quizzed him about what he did in the Corps. No one ever talked about black ops, not even to their spouses. It was a job of glory-avoidance; with them never taking credit for the job they do, other than from their peers. He always felt strange when he had to lie about this.

I like to think that my main job is testing out new equipment for the military, Mac described, a smile on his face matching hers, hoping she wouldn't detect the second lie.

That sounds interesting, she acknowledged.

Enough about me. Let's talk about you. You're more fascinating. What kind of nursing do you do, and how long have you been here on the ship?

I'm an RN who assists with surgery, but since I'm an Ensign, I do whatever job is assigned to me. Don't get me wrong; I love my job and wouldn't trade it for anything, but I'm most interested in surgical techniques that I see experienced doctors perform to save lives. I’m new, only on the ship three months, but I think I've learned a lot.

I'm sure you have. I don't know how you get used to wounded soldiers with all that gore; I wouldn't want any part of that, he lied for the third time.

It goes with the territory, she replied without the smile.

Mac decided that he had torn down his character enough to put her off guard. He didn't want her to think that he was a pantywaist.

What kind of equipment do you test? Emily inquired, wondering what kind of a Marine this was sitting with her.

I thought we were talking about you.

We were, but it's a lady’s prerogative to change the subject, don't you think? She continued.

Sure, it certainly is.

Well, what's the answer?

She could always tell when someone was stonewalling her; they either shifted in their seat or slightly lowered their head. Mac did both.

The equipment is often classified, so I can't say much about it, Mac replied, feeling he had already said too much.

The conversation suddenly put a minor pall over the room, but Mac was determined to not let it ruin a first meeting.

I'm sorry if I said something to offend you. It sounds like it isn't my day. How about this. Let me make amends for any faux-pas that I'm guilty of, including knocking down a beautiful woman.

That's not necessary. I'm enjoying the coffee, Emily said in turn.

There's a first run movie tonight on the ship. How about being my date?

Do you always work this fast with ladies that you have just met?

Only when I'm interested, Mac attested with a beaming smile.

Whatever dimmed the meeting suddenly changed, and Emily presented a large smile.

I'd love to, she softly whispered.

Great. It starts at 2000.

Both of them looked toward the door as they heard someone enter. Mac saw that it was Sands. His smile disappeared.

Oh, am I interrupting something? Sands insinuated in a jealous sort of way as he approached the couple.

Just having coffee, Mac chirped.

Good afternoon, Emily. Good to see you again, Sands ventured.

Do you know each other? Mac asked, surprised.

We met in the mess a few days ago, Sands revealed, but Emily said nothing.

There was a stinging silence that was obviously uncomfortable for all. Emily stood.

I have a meeting, so I must go, she explained. She looked at Mac. I'll see you at our get-together tonight, Sir. Thanks for the coffee, Emily offered as she headed for the door.

Sands poured a cup of coffee, and sat down next to Mac.

Sounds like you have a date, Sands said to Mac as he gingerly sipped the hot brew.

Something like that.

I've been trying to get into her pants for days without any luck, Sands admitted.

That's pretty crass, Mac said accusingly, as he felt his temper rise.

I hope you're not moving in on me. That would be unfortunate.

Is that a threat?

Take it how you will, but I don't like anyone trying to take my woman.

Your woman? She didn't even acknowledge that you were here, Mac angrily said.

She will. I'll work on it.

What you do is your business. For me, it's just a date, Mac said brusquely. Get used to it.

Sands slammed his cup down on the table, the coffee spilling onto the crisp white tablecloth. Without a word, he got to his feet and left. The noise of the door slamming on his way out echoed through the room.

As Mac finished his coffee, he thought about Sands’ comments, and hoped that their disagreeable relationship wouldn't damage the mission, and their careers. He had just met Emily, so he couldn't call her his woman. She was beautiful, and he felt that there was something mysterious and attractive about her personality, including her feisty nature. The more he thought about the issue, he recognized that he would only be on the ship for another week. In addition, he wasn't ready to get serious with a woman, based on his career and the job he did. Mac downed the rest of his coffee and left.

****

The room was crowded when Mac arrived, and it was filled with the chatter of voices. It was a time to unwind and catch up with friends. He looked around, scanning the crowd, and finally spotted Emily toward the back. There was an empty seat next to her, so he made his way to her.

Hello, glad you could make it, Mac proffered, afraid that she might be a no-show.

Hi, Mac. I saved a seat, if this place is okay, she offered.

Emily looked as fresh as a delicate flower opening its bloom in the early morning. The scent of her drifted to Mac as he sat down beside her; he felt like a schoolboy on a first date at the local movie theater. The last time he had done this was at a movie house in a small Virginia town. He struggled in his mind as to how he would put his arm around the young girl of his dreams. Mac shrugged those old memories off, recognizing that he was now a man of twenty-nine.

Did you have a busy day? Mac asked to help break the ice on their ‘first date’.

Busier than it has been in a while. The war seems to be gearing up, and the casualties seem to grow each day. I fear that this effort could lead to something more serious down the road, Emily philosophized.

Mac saw a more reflective, serious side to her than he expected. It would have been something he would have said, he reminded himself.

"You could be right. I also think that the SCUD attacks are a prelude to something more ominous. I pray not, but the history of war is not kind, and rarely follows the rules.

We could lose a number of our military if that were to happen. I guess the good thing is that you and I are generally safe on the carrier, and don't have to be in harm’s way, Emily replied.

Yeah, I guess we're lucky, Mac commented.

He thought about the words, especially since he would be in the heat of it in a few days. It's probably best that she will never know.

The movie was late starting, and Emily was pleased to have more time to talk to Mac. She had been disappointed to have Sands interrupt their coffee earlier in the day.

Did you test any equipment today? she inquired of Mac, still not understanding what he did as a Marine Captain.

Not today. I spent most of the time doing some planning for our group.

What group is that?

Mac knew what she was doing; she suspects that his responses at coffee were not completely honest. It was a fine line to walk; tell her just enough, or tell her nothing.

I came with a group of ten Marines from Saudi, assigned to the ship for just a few weeks. We go where we’re requested to help out with the mission -- testing equipment, Mac explained, trying to smokescreen the truth.

You'll just be here two weeks?

Yeah, on this trip. If the war continues, we'll probably be back.

I hope so, Emily revealed, looking into Mac's brown eyes and trying to see into his soul.

A commander called everyone to order, and described the movie that was to be shown, a love story set in Alabama just before the Civil War. The lights went out as the image shimmered onto the white screen that had been set up.

True to its description, a beautiful blond straight out of central casting falls in love with a young man who plans to join the Confederacy. As the film becomes somewhat seamy, Emily moves closer to Mac, and lays her head on his shoulder. Her warm skin felt comforting to him, and he remained still, hoping that she wouldn't move.

After the blonde cried as her man mounted his horse with his weapon in his hand, Emily removed her head. Mac shifted his body, somewhat cramped. He moved closer and wrapped his arm around her back. She moved toward him as they traveled in time together through the Battle of Atlanta, the wounding of the young man, and his eventual return to Alabama, finding the blonde dutifully waiting.

As the film ended, the lights came up and people stood, stretching their legs.

That was fun, Emily admitted, wearing a beaming grin. Thanks.

"It was fun. I'm glad the guy ended up with the girl," Mac grinned.

What's our story? She postured, taking Mac by surprise.

I hope that it's just the beginning, and I thought tonight was a good start, Mac said, not sure where the conversation was going.

Will you walk me back to my bay? Emily requested, not sure what Mac would say.

It would be my pleasure. I'd invite you to my place for a nightcap, but the lieutenant might be irritated.

Emily lightly punched him in the arm as they made their way out of the room, taking their time so that the crowd would diminish and disappear into their respective quarters. As they walked the corridor, fewer personnel could be seen.

They arrived close to Emily's accommodations. She stopped in front of a door labeled ‘Lab Supplies’.

I don't want to spend the night alone, Emily whispered to him as she slipped her arm around his waist.

Mac leaned forward, and gently placed a soft kiss on her lips that created a rush through him. The event became more passionate as she grabbed his arm and led him quickly through the door. The lock on the inside clicked as it secured their location.

Inside, their kisses became movements of passion, and soon their skin touched. Titillating and exciting like a first love, they moved in a rhythm emulating the sensual passion of the film they had just enjoyed. It was an orgasm of pleasure, joining each other as if one. Their feelings were played out in celebration of finding one another, and commiserating for the lost period before they met.

It seemed like hours before Mac opened the door and departed, buttoning his shirt. A lone figure was moving down the corridor, and after seeing Mac, ducked into an alcove behind a metal stairway. He soon observed Emily looking somewhat disheveled leaving the room and moving toward the bay. The man's blood pressure rose as his skin flushed; he was angry.

Captain Sands stepped from the darkness and lost himself down the corridor in Mac's direction.

Chapter 2

Operation Dirty Bird

The three knocks on the door told Mac that Sands was outside waiting to be allowed entry into their morning meeting.

Enter, Mac replied sharply.

Mornin’, Sands said wryly as he came into the room.

I've already started the mission document, but wanted your input before submitting it, Mac offered before Sands was even seated.

Let's hear what you have, Sands condescendingly solicited with a skulking face.

It's pretty much the same design as we have used before. Obviously, it's always the unknown that bites you, Mac counseled.

He continued by outlining the details of the plan.

We will take three Black Hawks, two for the direct mission, one for backup; two of the Hawks carrying four of us each, the backup with two, plus selected chief warrant officers as pilots; full dress rehearsals, tomorrow night and the next night; departure at 2300, arrival at target 2430; thirty minutes on the ground with lift off at 0100; and estimated return 0230.

That sounds right, confirmed Sands. He continued. I would suggest Hawk 1 be responsible for setting explosives and recovering any chemicals, while Hawk 2 executes the kills. Four each should be the right number for each task.

I agree. I'll be in Hawk 1, and you take charge of Hawk 2. You pick the team for each.

That's fine. What's the plan for Hawk 3? Sands asked.

We will all leave from the carrier together, and return together. Hawk 3 will land three kilometers from the target, as we continue on, Mac outlined. Hawks 1 and 2 will sit down two kilometers from the SKUDSs; we will make our way on foot.

When will we get the Hawks?

They are here, arrived in the middle of the night, and stored below deck. It will be your responsibility to have them checked thoroughly and prepped for departure, Mac directed, knowing that Sands would fully complete the check even if the two had disagreements.

What about Intel? Have we got any yet?

Arrived about 0400, and the commander called me in at 0600 to brief me. He also clarified the objectives. Retrieval of any chemicals as part of the SCUDs is the main objective. All else is secondary, but still important objectives of the mission. There are eight SCUDs in place as of 0200 this morning, but we could face more by mission time, Mac explained, as they both looked at the photos taken by satellite.

What are the three buildings?

Intel indicates the two on the left are permanent structures, and the third is temporary, probably a tent, Mac described, pointing with his finger to the image.

That makes the kill more difficult. It sounds like we have to split the eight of us between the three buildings.

That's why I ordered silencers for the weapons. I suggest a team of four hit the largest building first, and then split into twos for the other two. If there is a group larger than four in the first building, four of us should be able to eliminate them before they fire a shot. Using only two could compromise our mission. However, prior to that, we need to take out anyone in the field, Mac advised.

Good thought. I suggest the eight of us first focus on terminating outside combatants, then move on to our respective missions, Sands recommended, becoming more animated as the details were being formulated.

Yeah, that makes sense. Use the Mark II daggers when possible, with quick slashes to the throat.

Is thirty minutes enough time? Sands challenged.

It will be a stretch. The kills could take fifteen. That may not allow enough time for the SCUDs. The chemicals are the prime objective.

My team has the entire thirty minutes scheduled. When we complete, hopefully in twenty, four of us can become part of Hawk 1 objectives, Sands volunteered.

The explosive packages are pre-prepared, only the timers need to be set. Extraction of any chemicals could take the longest.

We'll make it work, Sands responded with conviction.

Okay, I'll finish the plan and walk it to the commander. Hopefully, we'll get the confirmation by tomorrow morning, Mac predicted.

Fine, Sands concurred, as he stood to take his leave. By the way, how was your date last night, Sands asked, baiting Mac, already knowing the full story.

It was fun, but uneventful, Mac replied with a grin.

Sands walked out, closing the metal door with a loud clang. Mac reflected on the departure.

He's pissed. If he only knew the real outcome of the date, it could compromise the mission. Certainly Emily is not going to tell him; she doesn't even like him.

Mac discarded his thoughts, and went to work refining the document. He felt confident about the outcome of the mission, and his secret.

****

Ensign Copley felt exhausted as she ended her shift. It had been a hectic ten hours with numerous patients to monitor, and staccato-like directions barked from doctors and senior nurses. Sometimes, she wished that she had stayed in Wisconsin; it would have been more stable, and life would be less complicated.

As she stood in the shower with water splashing on her head, Emily finally had time to relax. It was as if the warm liquid’s cascade excised the day’s frustrations, and allowed her to reflect on more pleasant affairs of her soul. She had no time to think of Mac during the day, so she allowed herself to now imagine that he was standing in front of her, sharing the shower. She conjured his towering masculine figure, his dark chest hair, and his soft smile. Emily undressed him in her mind, and could see his extended penis pointing at her. She took it in her hand and into her mouth until it exploded. She dreamed of other sexual acts, all blending together and making her body feel hot all over. Through the splashes on her face, a grin appeared, and her mind drifted. Emily's thoughts filtered back to her encounter with Mac, and she flirted with the idea that it would happen again.

By the time she dressed, it was 2230, and her mind was still on Mac.

Would he be awake?

Emily took long strides down the corridor, being careful to observe anyone emerging from the side. Another collision with someone after knocking Mac over would be cumbersome and embarrassing. She arrived at his door, and knocked three times. Waiting a reasonable time, she repeated her rap. No response.

Excuse me, seaman, she said as she spotted two men moving past her. Do you know where Captain McDonald is? He seems to be out.

No ma'am, but he is on a night mission, one seaman replied as he came to attention.

A night mission? To where? She asked, surprised.

I can't say, ma'am. It's classified.

I thought he tested equipment?

Yes, ma'am, the seaman mumbled, appearing nervous with the conversation.

After several seconds, and feeling a little confused, she sputtered, Carry-on.

The seaman quickly moved down the corridor and disappeared into a side passageway.

Emily stood in front of the door wondering who Mac was. After several minutes, she turned and decided to get some fresh air on deck.

A light breeze drifted across her face as she stood in the darkness overlooking the long deck. It was warm, and she observed the flicker of lightning in the night sky. She waited, but didn't hear the follow-up noise of thunder. Her conclusion was that it was a distant explosion of a man-made nature.

The noise of side bay doors opening surprised her, and she turned her attention in that direction. Her eyes had adjusted to the darkness, and she saw three Blackhawk helicopters emerge from the bowels of the ship. Their rotor blades started turning almost immediately, and she observed a lack of any markings on the aircraft. At the same moment, a group of black figures ran from a side door, and quickly entered two of the copters. They lifted off almost in unison, and flew across the deck and into the blackness of the night.

The noise of the fan blades echoed from the darkness, and a strong wash of air from the birds almost knocked her over. She grabbed the rail.

Is this the night mission? Is Mac on board? He lied to me.

No one could see, but several tears ran down her cheek as feelings swept through her. It was a yo-yo of anger, disappointment, and worry for his safety. Emily stood there alone in her thoughts until the loud roar of an F-15 took to the skies. She turned, shaken from her thoughts, and reentered the ship.

****

Mac jumped down from the Hawk to the deck as the rotor blades slowed. Dark brooding clouds had somewhat cleared, and a silvery sliver of a moon reflected itself in the tossing sea. As the team walked to the door from which they had departed hours ago, Mac glanced at his watch. 0242.

The rehearsal mission was deemed a success with only minor things needing some tweaking. Sands had kept his distance from Mac, and only communicated to satisfy the plan. It was obvious to all, making the mission that much tenser, and as a result, potentially more dangerous.

Mac wasn't worried since the team had one additional rehearsal tonight, enough to assure that the actual mission would be successful. He knew that the unplanned could always appear, but their extensive training had prepared them for the unknown. Sands was every bit the perfectionist, as Mac was, and his execution of any mission could not be criticized; he excelled as Mac did. His only fault was that his ingrained anger sometimes revealed itself in public. Currently, Mac knew that Sands’ jealousy regarding Emily was the flavor of the week. Senior officers were not aware of this flaw, carefully hidden from all except those that closely worked with him. Mac knew that someday it would be Sands’ downfall, but for today, the mission was all that mattered.

Mac made his way down the dim corridor, quickly finding his quarters. A hot shower relaxed his tensed muscles, and cleaned the Iraqi sand from his skin. As the water ran over his body, his mind had time to reflect on each part of the night rehearsal, knowing that in tonight's darkness the mission would be duplicated.

He stepped from the metal shower and toweled, finishing his thoughts. As he relaxed, an erection proceeded to build. Thoughts of the mission faded, and his consciousness