Fallen Pride (Jesse McDermitt Series) by Wayne Stinnett Page A

father?”
    “Captain Osgood, this is my dad, Rusty, my ‘adopted dad’ Jesse and my fiancé Russell.”
    He shook hands with each of us and I introduced Williams and his son.
    Deuce introduced me to Petty Officer Third Class Jeremy Dawson. He was the other on Deuce’s team undergoing Maritime Enforcement training.
    “I understand Julie learned her boating skills from the two of you,” the Captain said. “You raised quite a daughter.”
    “Thanks, Skipper,” Rusty said.
    “I’m your courier, Captain,” Deuce said. “Commander Russell Livingston, currently assigned to DHS.” He opened his briefcase and took out a legal envelope. “These orders transfer Petty Officer Thurman to active duty and reassign her to the Department of Homeland Security, Caribbean Counter-Terrorism Command. If you’ll look them over, sir, all that’s required is your signature.”
    The Captain shuffled through the papers. When he was satisfied, Deuce produced a pen from his briefcase and closed it for the Captain to sign the orders on. When he finished, he handed them back to Deuce, who put them away in his briefcase.
    “Does this mean I have to salute you now?” she asked Deuce with a grin.
    “Absolutely, babe,” he replied with a laugh.
    The others in the class stopped by to congratulate her and a few minutes later, we were back in the parking lot. At the Expedition, I told Deuce, “Why don’t the three of you head back to the hotel, so Julie can get changed? The three of us are meeting a friend for lunch and Luke will give us a ride back in an hour or so.”
    We split up and I got in the small backseat of Luke’s black Mustang. Williams ratcheted the front seat as far forward as it would go to give me some leg room, but it was still pretty cramped.
    “You know where the Gourmet Grill is, Luke?”
    “That’s officer country,” he replied. “Not officially, but not man y enlisted Marines go there.”
    “First time for everything,” I said. “Besides, the friend we’re meeting is saltier than any officer aboard the base.”
    Twenty minutes later, we pulled into the parking lot and Tank had been right. Nearly every car in the lot had a blue sticker on the windshield, denoting it was owned by an officer. It was 1045, but Tank was already there, standing by the door in his Alpha uniform. Tank should have retired long ago. He was in his mid-fifties, but looked much younger. He’d been in the Corps since Vietnam, where he’d received the Medal of Honor. He always said he only stayed in, because he got a kick out of officers saluting him and the Corps allowed it because they weren’t about to push retirement on a MOH recipient.
    A young Marine Captain was walking ahead of us as we approached him. He made for quite an imposing figure in the Alpha uniform, with eight rows of ribbons, topped with the pale blue Medal of Honor ribbon, the dive helmet and wings of Recon and nine ‘hash marks’ from his elbow to his sleeve denoting more than 36 years of service. The young Captain approached him, expecting to be saluted and Tank just stood there. The Captain was about to say something, when he noticed the ribbon on top of Tank’s rack and quickly saluted him.
    After the Captain went through the doors I said, “Never gets old, does it?”
    He gripped my extended hand and said, “Hell no, only thing I hang around for anymore. Damn good to see you again, Jesse.”
    “Same here Tank. Meet a couple of friends of mine, Dave Williams and his son, Corporal Luke Williams. Dave, Luke, this is Master Gunnery Sergeant Owen Tankersley.”
    He shook hands with both of them and opened the door for us. “ Just a high ranked doorman these days. Hell, the Corps doesn’t even give me anything to do anymore.”
    We went inside and the talking among the Marines in the restaurant came to a near complete silence as all heads turned toward the two enlisted men and the two civilians. Tank paid them little attention as he nodded to the hostess, who