Devil's Due (Destroyermen #12)(123)
Matt tried to smile. Ordinarily, he’d agree. But this time they were dealing with Kurokawa himself. A stab of worry burned his chest. What’ll he do when he figures out what’s happening? He will, at some point, no matter what we do. And when he does, what’ll he do to Sandra? So much depends on Silva! Not only my wife—if she’s still alive by then—but everything. So much of what we think we know has come from him. He bit his lip. Silva had always been dependable when it came to getting things done, but not always the way you expected, or even wanted. That could cause confusion, and confusion was deadly. The knife of apprehension twisted in his chest. I have to put it away! he thought forcefully. Put it way back in my mind. I don’t have the luxury—the right—to focus on Sandra.
Spanky looked at him oddly. “You’re thinkin’ about Silva?”
Matt started, surprised. “How did you know that?”
Spanky shrugged. “You’re not the only one. Somehow or other, I bet just about everybody goin’ into this fight is thinkin’ of him.” He grinned. “Good thoughts an’ bad. I know he’s on Chack’s mind and I’joorka’s, thinkin’ about how many Grik he counted. Ben has to be wonderin’ if he got the best dope on the airfields. Keje an’ Tikker’ll be wonderin’ that too. Then there’s Savoie an’ all those Grik cruisers. Will they still be where he said? What if they’re not? I just came from the wardroom”—he held up his coffee cup—“an’ Pam’s a nervous wreck, figurin’ Silva’ll do somethin’ stupid an’ get himself killed.” He took a sip. “And he might. Sooner or later, he will. It’s the law of averages, an’ the fact is, he’s pushed his luck too damn far.” He gulped down the last of his coffee and smacked his lips. “We all have, I guess, but Silva takes the cake.” He looked out to sea, forward. “I called him an idiot, an’ he is—in some ways. But not in ways that matter for this. He’ll do somethin’ weird, you can count on it, but it’ll probably make some sort of sense. And he’ll probably raise a lot of hell, right when we need it most. More important, if anybody can get our people out in one piece, it’s him—and Larry. You can also count on that.” Spanky’s rough voice turned uncharacteristically soft. “They’re his friends too, see? He will die to save Sandra if it comes to it, an’ not just for her—though she’d be enough. They’re not five years apart, but she’s probably more a mother than he’s ever had.” He shrugged. “I know—kinda weird. But it’s true. When she scolds him, he listens.” He looked back at Matt. “Still, mainly, he’ll do it for you, because you trust him to.” He shook his head. “Chief Gray saw it before I ever did. Saw something in that big goon before anybody else, I think. That’s why he left him his hat an’ coin. His legacy.” He held up a hand. “Don’t get me wrong, Silva’ll never be Super Bosun of the Navy! But if he lives, he might wind up something else, maybe just as important someday. I think, in the end, what Gray figured out was that Silva never had a cause before this ship—and you—came along. Now? He’d set himself on fire an’ wallow in fuel oil before he let you down.”
“But . . . why?” Matt asked, almost whispering, genuinely mystified by Spanky’s observations.
Spanky rolled his eyes. “You still really don’t know, do you? He’d do it for the same reason I would, an’ thousands of other humans an’ ’Cats on this screwed-up world. Because of who you are, what you are, an’ what you’ve made of the rest of us. Simple.” With that, he scratched his chin under the reddish beard. “Simple,” he repeated softly, then took a deep breath. “C’mon, Tabby,” he said to the gray-furred Lemurian who’d watched the exchange, blinking amazement. “Let’s go watch your hot new boilers an’ listen to the steam sing!”
CHAPTER 20
////// Operation Outhouse Rat
November 23, 1944
It was pitch-dark, without even stars, when the first act of Operation Outhouse Rat began. Clouds had moved in during the night and, because of concern about the implications for air operations, the go order had been delayed. The experience of the Sky Priests, many of whom had joined together in a meteorological section aboard Big Sal, had finally made the difference. Unfamiliar as they were with these seas, they’d spent their lives observing the weather and had concluded, though it might storm a bit, it should be a relatively short, mild blow. The whipping wind and occasional pulses of lightning to the north seemed to contradict their prediction, but not only were they the best resource for such things, a little storm might be advantageous, preventing the task force’s discovery. And it would be discovered if it lingered long. They had to go now, or bear away and wait another day at least. Another day for Kurokawa to change his dispositions, possibly move his hostages, or even discover the task force with a scout plane and make preparations far costlier to overcome. And the bombing raid was going in, anyway. If they delayed, the whole plan might have to be retooled. Finally, Matt himself gave the order with a simple “Commence OOR” flashed from Walker’s Morse lamp.
Colonel Chack-Sab-At was accompanying the Imperial Major Alistair Jindal’s 21st Combined Regiment. It consisted of ’Cats and humans from the 9th Maa-ni-la and 1st Respite. His sister, Risa, was with Major Enrico Galay’s 19th Baalkpan, and the 1st of the 11th Imperial Marines. Galay had been a corporal in the Philippine Scouts in another war, and had grown into an enterprising officer with many talents. It was he who’d taken the first aerial photographs of Sofesshk, in fact. Too bad they hadn’t been able to do the same here, but anything capable of carrying a pilot and photographer over Zanzibar in daylight could never survive. They still had to rely on Fiedler’s map. Fortunately, because of Silva and a very brave pilot, the map had been much improved.