’ And with that, she rolled on her side and pulled the covers up. I snuggled in behind her naked body and pulled her to me. It brought back memories, memories that once I had tried to expunge. All the same, I drifted off to sleep quickly. When I awoke at my usual time, it was just beginning to get light. The sun was still behind the mountains to the east. I eased myself out of the bed without disturbing Natasha. She looked beautiful as she slept. I dressed quietly, wrote a short note, and let myself out of the room as silently as I could. There was beach access next to the motel, and I walked down to the sandy-pebbly shore. The waves quietly lapped near my feet, and I felt the peacefulness of an early Saturday morning. Very few cars and trucks were rushing along the highway. As I walked, it gave me time to think. Think about last night. Think about Natasha. Think about tomorrow, when we would be back in Canada. I couldn’t presume to stay with her. Not yet. She was getting to me, I. He's the "rescue" man, only goinginto action when things get totally fucked. Finally, my eyes rested onSgt. O'Reilly. No doubt the strangest of our happy little gang, O'Reillynever spoke. The doctors said nothing was wrong with him, but afterdozens of assignments together, I knew something was not quite right. Nomatter. How he chose to express himself was his call, not mine. Besides,as long as he can crack a maximum-security computer terminal in less thana minute, he could speak in Morse code for all I care.Together, we were BLACK-501, or the "Specter" unit. We were the elite ofthe navy, the best of the best, and according to official U.S. records,we didn't exist. If one of us was captured, there was no rescue mission,no hostage fund, and no operations acknowledging our presence behindenemy lines. We were the best team on earth, the most trusted units outthere, and we knew more national secrets than the president himself.Apparently, that's why we were on this mission. To find out.
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