negative,” Crenshaw replied.
“Hold,” Defoe shouted.
Olivia held the helo’s position stationary, waiting for instructions from her senior chief.
“Starboard, two o’clock.”
“I see him.” Crenshaw worked the searchlight to center on the man. “Shit. There are two of them. One is floating face down.”
Olivia brought their altitude down to thirty feet. Crenshaw captured the two men in the beam of the powerful light.
“I’m going in,” Defoe announced.
“The fuck you are,” she yelled back.
“Rescue will be here in seven. I’m going in.”
“That was an order, Senior Chief.”
“BINGO in three minutes,” Crenshaw said.
Olivia looked back at her senior chief to see him removing his shoes. “You’re not equipped for a rescue.”
He didn’t answer as he checked the straps on his safety vest.
“I’m taking us up to fifty feet.” Even Defoe wouldn’t be foolish enough to attempt a jump from that height.
“Suit yourself, ma’am, but I’m going in. One of those guys is alive and I intend on keeping him that way.” He removed his headgear, ending any effective communication between them. They locked eyes for a moment. No use battling him, he was too bullheaded.
Olivia took the helo down to twelve feet above the water. She would have gone lower for Defoe but there was too much debris. Lower would churn it up and possibly injure the survivors and her senior chief.
“Swimmer away,” Turner called out when Defoe jumped.
Crenshaw relayed the information to rescue. “Swimmer in the water and we are BINGO. Put the pedal to the metal, rescue.”
“Take it easy, L.T.,” she snapped. We aren’t going to drop out of the sky. BINGO means I have three minutes of fuel before RTB. I intend on taking every second before I leave my man in the water.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Olivia rose to fifty feet and watched Defoe take several powerful strokes to the victim floating face down. He rolled him over and even at this distance they could see the man’s face was gone.
“Jee-sus.” Crenshaw grimaced.
Defoe was already on his way to the second man. He reached him and gave a thumbs up signal. They had a live one.
Turner dropped a floating flare to guide the rescue helicopter.
“Three minutes past BINGO, Commander.”
She turned the helo toward Mayport and fuel.
Crenshaw relayed details to the rescue helo. “Keep us informed on your pickup. Tell our senior chief to stay put at the hospital. We’ll be picking him up as soon as we refuel.”
Olivia gave him an approving nod.
After long minutes of silence, the radio came to life. “We have visual on your man and the survivor.”
Her crew said nothing, listening to the radio chatter as they headed to Mayport. Another fifteen minutes passed, and they were close to setting down for fuel.
“Carver, what does your senior chief eat for breakfast?” the rescue pilot asked. “He refused the basket until we had both the survivor and body aboard.”
“Is he aboard now?” she said crisply.
“Sure is, and says he’s fine.”
He won’t be when I get finished with him, she thought. It pissed her off he’d disobeyed her order and deliberately risked his life. He could have waited for rescue. Not only had Defoe put himself at risk, they’d been fired on. Her biggest fear—maybe her only fear—was her crew being injured. She never wanted to face grieving family members, knowing only too well what it felt like to be one.
“What’s the status on the survivor?” she asked.
“Medic says he’ll make it.”
Good. Nothing would make her happier than to see that SOB behind bars.
“The boat we fired on?”
“Rescue boats searching. Nothing yet.”
They all knew there wouldn’t be. To have one survivor was nothing short of a miracle.
At Mayport she ordered a quick fuel. Enough to pick up Defoe at Shands Hospital, where rescue was taking the injured man, and return to Cecil Field. She couldn’t wait to get to Defoe. The longer she
“Hold,” Defoe shouted.
Olivia held the helo’s position stationary, waiting for instructions from her senior chief.
“Starboard, two o’clock.”
“I see him.” Crenshaw worked the searchlight to center on the man. “Shit. There are two of them. One is floating face down.”
Olivia brought their altitude down to thirty feet. Crenshaw captured the two men in the beam of the powerful light.
“I’m going in,” Defoe announced.
“The fuck you are,” she yelled back.
“Rescue will be here in seven. I’m going in.”
“That was an order, Senior Chief.”
“BINGO in three minutes,” Crenshaw said.
Olivia looked back at her senior chief to see him removing his shoes. “You’re not equipped for a rescue.”
He didn’t answer as he checked the straps on his safety vest.
“I’m taking us up to fifty feet.” Even Defoe wouldn’t be foolish enough to attempt a jump from that height.
“Suit yourself, ma’am, but I’m going in. One of those guys is alive and I intend on keeping him that way.” He removed his headgear, ending any effective communication between them. They locked eyes for a moment. No use battling him, he was too bullheaded.
Olivia took the helo down to twelve feet above the water. She would have gone lower for Defoe but there was too much debris. Lower would churn it up and possibly injure the survivors and her senior chief.
“Swimmer away,” Turner called out when Defoe jumped.
Crenshaw relayed the information to rescue. “Swimmer in the water and we are BINGO. Put the pedal to the metal, rescue.”
“Take it easy, L.T.,” she snapped. We aren’t going to drop out of the sky. BINGO means I have three minutes of fuel before RTB. I intend on taking every second before I leave my man in the water.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Olivia rose to fifty feet and watched Defoe take several powerful strokes to the victim floating face down. He rolled him over and even at this distance they could see the man’s face was gone.
“Jee-sus.” Crenshaw grimaced.
Defoe was already on his way to the second man. He reached him and gave a thumbs up signal. They had a live one.
Turner dropped a floating flare to guide the rescue helicopter.
“Three minutes past BINGO, Commander.”
She turned the helo toward Mayport and fuel.
Crenshaw relayed details to the rescue helo. “Keep us informed on your pickup. Tell our senior chief to stay put at the hospital. We’ll be picking him up as soon as we refuel.”
Olivia gave him an approving nod.
After long minutes of silence, the radio came to life. “We have visual on your man and the survivor.”
Her crew said nothing, listening to the radio chatter as they headed to Mayport. Another fifteen minutes passed, and they were close to setting down for fuel.
“Carver, what does your senior chief eat for breakfast?” the rescue pilot asked. “He refused the basket until we had both the survivor and body aboard.”
“Is he aboard now?” she said crisply.
“Sure is, and says he’s fine.”
He won’t be when I get finished with him, she thought. It pissed her off he’d disobeyed her order and deliberately risked his life. He could have waited for rescue. Not only had Defoe put himself at risk, they’d been fired on. Her biggest fear—maybe her only fear—was her crew being injured. She never wanted to face grieving family members, knowing only too well what it felt like to be one.
“What’s the status on the survivor?” she asked.
“Medic says he’ll make it.”
Good. Nothing would make her happier than to see that SOB behind bars.
“The boat we fired on?”
“Rescue boats searching. Nothing yet.”
They all knew there wouldn’t be. To have one survivor was nothing short of a miracle.
At Mayport she ordered a quick fuel. Enough to pick up Defoe at Shands Hospital, where rescue was taking the injured man, and return to Cecil Field. She couldn’t wait to get to Defoe. The longer she
Similar Books
