Part 31 (1/2)

”Yes. But this one roll ...” Meredith paused delicately.

”How do I put this? Or rather, how do I tell you where she alleges she put it?”

Oh, G.o.d. ”That's going to be funa”explaining that to Muldoon. Do we know why she held the photo until now? I mean, what kept her from going public as soon as she returned to Paris?”

”She says The Truth ran the photo on their front page the day after she left Afghanistan. But both the photo and her story weren't picked up by the a.s.sociated Press. Probably because The Truth had recently been discovered printing a whole series of photos from 1991 taken during Operation Desert Storm, that the paper claimed were from the current conflict.” Meredith laughed. ”It's the cla.s.sic Boy Who Cried Wolf syndrome. Serves 'em right. Although the fact that the photo was first printed last year makes me think Lapin's telling the truth about it being the only one. If she had other pictures, they would have been plastered all over The Truth, too.”

”Yeah,” Joan said. ”Okay.”

”So what now?” Meredith asked.

Good question.

”We're going to have to get Muldoon a room at the hotel,” Joan decided. ”And Secret Service protection if he wants it.”

”You really think he'll need his own room?” Meredith asked. ”I mean, if he really is Brooke Bryant's newest hottie...”

”Get him a room,” Joan repeated, and hung up.

She dug through her handbag for her bottle of pain reliever as she dialed Muldoon's cell phone number.

This was not going to be fun.

She held her breath, but he didn't pick up.

All that non-fun was going to have to wait. Muldoon's voice mail went on, brief and to the point. ”Leave a message, I'll call you back.”

”Mike, it's Joan.” Good start, but there was no way she was going to be able to leave him a message about this total fiasco. ”Call me as soon as you get this message, all right? It's very important that we talk.”

She flipped her phone closed. And picked up the newspaper to look at that photo again.

He was going to be really angry about this. Who wouldn't be?

But a man who could run with a broken kneecap ... Now, there was someone who had access to all lands of self-control and normally untapped resources. There was no way that a man like that would stay angry at her forever.

Was there?

”Whoa,” Cosmo said.

There was more emotion packed into that one little word than Muldoon had ever heard the petty officer utter in all of the years they'd both been with Team Sixteen.

He turned to find Cosmo staring up at the TV that was tucked in the corner of the sandwich shop.

Instead of eating more MREsa”meals, ready-to-eata”they were here, having a real lunch of real food because Commander Paoletti loved them. This sleepy little California town was accustomed to the SEALs fast-roping down from helos to grab some grub. Most of the SEALs were over at the Mexican restaurant across Main Street, but Muldoona” forever and always watching his weighta”wanted a turkey on whole wheat.

Besides, he had plans for tonight that didn't include the aftereffects of eating beans for lunch.

”You're on the news, sir,” Cosmo said. He smacked the counter with the palm of his hand. ”Hey, Frank, give us some volume here!”

But Frank was in the back room. ”Be out in a sec!”

Muldoon took a step toward the TV and then another. Jesus, was that really a picture of Wildcard and... ? It was. It was him. A photograph of Muldoon in action, his arm looped around the chief's neck, right there on the cable news.

But then the video cut to a slender young woman with closely cropped bleached blond hair and heavy black eye makeup.

”s.h.i.+t, it's Camile.” Unwilling to wait a second longer, Cosmo dragged a table up to the TV, climbed up, and cranked the volume himself.

”Who's Camile?” Sam Starrett asked, leaning back against the counter.

But whatever Camilea”who looked vaguely familiara”had to say was done.

”... in Afghanistan” was all they heard in her heavily accented English.

”Camile is that French reporter, wanted to interview that sc.u.mbag Zeeshan when we were taking out that cave last year,” Cosmo said, and everything fell into place.

Her hair had been black back then, but it was definitely her. ”How the h.e.l.l did she get that photo?” Muldoon asked Cosmo. ”I thought she was searched.”

”She was. s.h.i.+t, sir, I searched her myself. Confiscated her camera and four rolls of film.”

”You should have called for a cavity search,” Sam said. Easy for him to say. He hadn't been therea”hadn't met the woman.

”Guess so,” Cosmo said grimly. The muscle jumped in his jaw as he took off his sungla.s.ses and faced Muldoon. ”I'm really sorry about this, sir.”

”Who knew?” Muldoon said. ”Don't sweat it, Cos. It's not so bad. It's been months since that picture was taken. It's not like the info that we were there on the ground during the air strikes hasn't already been leaked.”

The news anchor, perky and bright-eyed, was talking about the important role of SEALs and other ”special forces” in the war on terrorism, and getting just about all of it completely wrong. Which was probably just as well. The less secrets given away, the better.

But then the anchor said, ”As the war continues and stories of heroism and courage are reported, more and more people are clamoring to find out more about the men who wear the uniforms.

”Apparently Brooke Bryant, the President's wild child, was among the curious. Sources at the White House say she's been corresponding through email with Navy SEAL lieutenant Michael Muldoon for quite some time.”

What?

”Whoa,” Cosmo said again. ”Have you really?”

Even Sam was now standing up straight.

And the photo of Muldoon and Wildcard was back on the TV screen.

”No,” Muldoon said. Sources at the White House ... He felt sick. ”I mean, yes, buta”'

”Shh!” Sam said sharply. ”I want to hear this.”

”Ms. Bryant arrives in San Diego this afternoon,” the bubbly anchor said in a voice-over, ”where she'll attend a black-tie banquet, escorted by Lieutenant Muldoon. Lieutenant Muldoon is the SEAL officer on the left in this now famous photo.”

Someonea”a source from the White Housea”gave CNN his name and released that photograph...

The anchor was all dimples. ”A well-recognized aide to the First Daughter was reportedly overheard investigating the preparations needed for a full fanfare military wedding. Sources have neither confirmed nor denied any rumors of impending nuptials, but there definitely appears to be romance in the air today at the White House.

”Coming up, we'll take a look at the latest in the automotive industry'sa””