Page 7 of Down and Dirty

“What happened?”

“Here or in Afghanistan?”

MacLean literally growled. “Don’t screw with me, dickhead. I can make that hot water you’re dog-paddling through turn to boiling and peel your stupid skin off. While I’m at it, I might as well burn off that wayward dick of yours.”

Okaaaay!

Picking up a pile of pink telephone message slips, he began to flick through them, making a comment about each:

“John Sylvester from the State Department. Wants a meeting with you ASAP.

“Mullah Ahmed Bejah from the L.A. chapter of Muslims for Peace. They’re demanding that the boy be returned because of his religious background.

“Admiral George Wilson, CENTCOM. He wants your ass in the brig.

“Your grandfather, General Floyd, is trying to make it all go away, which is of course impossible.

“A representative of the Afghan embassy in Beirut — we no longer have one in the United States — is demanding immediate and unconditional return of Samir.

“Aljazeera TV. Five calls from them.

“One each from Larry King, Katie Couric, and Diane Sawyer. Not to mention People magazine and the New York Times.

“If you dare talk to any media, I swear, I will personally take the hide off you. Oh, and did I mention some image consultant at the Pentagon thinks you would make a great poster boy for recruitment… once this brouhaha all dies down?”

Zach tried to look suitably surprised and outraged, but, frankly, he’d had just as many calls, some even wackier, and some downright scary. Like death threats. How they’d gotten his unlisted number was even scarier. That didn’t count the two attempts to kidnap Sammy, once in D.C. when he first came back to the States and several days later at the airport in San Diego. That was before he’d taken security measures.

The commander inhaled and exhaled deeply, presumably to tame his temper. “What happened today?”

“My son kicked the babysitter, who already had a bruised hamstring. We had to call an ambulance because he was unable to walk, possible shin fracture, and then I had to get a backup babysitter. By that time, I was already late, and I did call in, but—”

Commander MacLean raised a halting hand. “The babysitter with the bruised hamstring? You wouldn’t be referring to Ensign Omar Jones, would you?”

“Roger that. Omar has custody of his little girl, you know, but she’s visiting his parents in Arizona this week. I figured he has experience with kids. Hah! Lotta good that did. Actually, I begged Omar after the first five babysitters quit. My son is not the most pleasant gremlin on the planet. Omar is multilingual, as you know, and a SEAL, both positive attributes when dealing with an Afghan version of Attila the Five-Year-Old Hun.”

His humor — his whole frickin’ monologue — didn’t go over big with MacLean, who continued to frown at him. “I thought your mother came here from Florida to help with the kid.”

“She did, but she quit two days ago. Her exact words were, ‘You made your bed, sonny, now sleep in it.’ Besides she had a modeling gig… something for the AARP magazine, I think.”

Still not a hint of a smile.

So, he blathered on, “My brother, Danny, is on leave from his Iraq deployment. He’s an Air Force pilot. But he just laughs at me. People do that a lot lately.”

MacLean frowned. “Who’s the backup babysitter?”

Zach hesitated before revealing, “Your wife.”

“Madrene?” MacLean’s eyes about bulged from their sockets.

“I couldn’t think of anyone else to ask.”

“And the kids?” The commander and his wife had two children, three-month-old and two-year-old sons, Ranulf and Ivan, the latter better known as Ivan the Terrible. He had been given that name before anyone had met Sammy. Now he was considered a saint by comparison.

“They are there, too. My son seems to behave better in their company, under your wife’s iron control.”

The commander gave him “the look,” the one that put him in the same class as dipwad newbie tadpoles. “Your babysitting woes — in fact, your being late — are the least of your worries, boy.”

Zach knew things were bad when MacLean referred to him as “boy,” seeing as how the commander had only a few years on him.