Читать книгу Damage Control - Gordon Kent, Gordon Kent - Страница 32

They had picked up the other three Americans from the HQ building’s bottom storey—an ex-SEAL named Fidelio, whom everybody called Fidel; a female petty officer, Dee Clavers, who had been an almost-Women’s NBA center; and a female jg named Ong, an anime princess so small she had barely managed to make the Navy minimum.

There were too many of them now, Alan thought—five Americans and four Indians and the three Indian Marines. Too few with weapons and too many who’d never been in a fight. He muttered to Fidel, whom he’d served with before, “This isn’t any good, Chief.”

Fidel grunted. “What’s the plan?”

“I have to get to something I can communicate with Fifth Fleet on. Everything’s out here, cell-phone system’s swamped.”

“Hotel.”

“Yeah, exactly what I think.” They were staying at a beach hotel ten miles away. The hotel was as close to a home as they had.

Fidel nodded. “Car park, the van, then hotel, gotcha. You any good with that gun?”

“Not bad.”

“I’m a lot better than not bad.” Fidel held out his hand for the gun. “You lead, I shoot, Commander.”