Warning Order, something Jazz and the others were used to. It was the same old–same old, whereby a selected special operations team was taken to a secured area and the unit commander gave a brief description of the coming mission; general instructions that included weapons, chain of command, schedule, and rehearsals; and specific instructions for individuals. Everything followed a set of standard operating procedures—actions on contact, reaction to ambush, individual activities—that each SEAL team member could execute without a word ever spoken.
No, Jazz was currently only interested in the Patrol Leader’s Order, in which all the unique details of the operation would be revealed. He looked forward to listening to Vivi Verreau’s French-accented voice telling him and his men about radio frequencies, rendezvous points, routes, and commander’s intent. At that moment she looked straight at him again.
Jazz leaned back, one hand playing with a pencil, and gave her a lazy wink. Oh yeah, let’s see what else was up her sleeve.
“Merci.” Vivi took the glass of water from Hawk. The refreshment was welcome. She had spent most of the day talking people into doing what she wanted. She looked across the room at Jazz sitting at the back. He winked at her. Okay, some of the time was spent trying not to do what she wanted.
She took her time with the drink, deliberately studying the men in front of her. Eight pairs of eyes regarded her with different levels of interest. Eight male psyches and egos to convince to follow her orders. She wasn’t nervous because she had done this before, had faced hostile males and amused intimidation during a few of those missions. But these were SEALs, notoriously antifemale in their little male world. They weren’t Interpol or CIA operatives used to paper shuffling. She would have to tread carefully.
“I’m Vivienne Verreau,” Vivi began in a crisp, businesslike voice. “I have different responsibilities to different organizations. Currently I’m the French liaison for a group called United Third World Against Exploitation of Women. They’ve hired me to observe and report how the UN is doing with the new directive. You saw part of the function of this particular watchdog group when Lieutenant Zeringue was taken into custody. To CIVPOL, I’m nothing but a useless nuisance because I’m supposedly doing nothing. As of today, to you all, I’ll play negotiator/translator in an operation that involves a drug deal. I’m passing down files with relevant information. Please take a few minutes to read through them before I continue.”
“What is CIVPOL?” Jazz asked from across the room.
“It’s the UN international police force. It has a division called Drug Trafficking and Prostitution Investigation Unit, headed by a man named Sun. He doesn’t particularly like the new UN directive.”
“Why?”
The man really liked to ask questions, Vivi decided. “The UN directive is like a tracking device,” she explained. “The peacekeepers and soldiers who are caught committing sexual crimes against the local women are handed back to their own authorities. There isn’t any world court system to put these men on trial, Lieutenant. You saw how you were released almost without paperwork. You were innocent, but those who aren’t don’t stay too long in there, either. The directive is aimed at stopping the act but not the criminal gangs that perpetuate the crime. Mr. Sun considers it a waste of time.”
“Do you agree?”
Jazz’s blue gaze was sharp and clear, and Vivi felt as if he could see right through her. She instinctively closed off her emotional response whenever it came to questions too close to home. “My job with the United Third World is as an observer. I have no say over whether the directive is a good one or not,” she informed him politely. She didn’t add that she also worked as a volunteer for their field program in placing orphans.
“We’re straying from the
No, Jazz was currently only interested in the Patrol Leader’s Order, in which all the unique details of the operation would be revealed. He looked forward to listening to Vivi Verreau’s French-accented voice telling him and his men about radio frequencies, rendezvous points, routes, and commander’s intent. At that moment she looked straight at him again.
Jazz leaned back, one hand playing with a pencil, and gave her a lazy wink. Oh yeah, let’s see what else was up her sleeve.
“Merci.” Vivi took the glass of water from Hawk. The refreshment was welcome. She had spent most of the day talking people into doing what she wanted. She looked across the room at Jazz sitting at the back. He winked at her. Okay, some of the time was spent trying not to do what she wanted.
She took her time with the drink, deliberately studying the men in front of her. Eight pairs of eyes regarded her with different levels of interest. Eight male psyches and egos to convince to follow her orders. She wasn’t nervous because she had done this before, had faced hostile males and amused intimidation during a few of those missions. But these were SEALs, notoriously antifemale in their little male world. They weren’t Interpol or CIA operatives used to paper shuffling. She would have to tread carefully.
“I’m Vivienne Verreau,” Vivi began in a crisp, businesslike voice. “I have different responsibilities to different organizations. Currently I’m the French liaison for a group called United Third World Against Exploitation of Women. They’ve hired me to observe and report how the UN is doing with the new directive. You saw part of the function of this particular watchdog group when Lieutenant Zeringue was taken into custody. To CIVPOL, I’m nothing but a useless nuisance because I’m supposedly doing nothing. As of today, to you all, I’ll play negotiator/translator in an operation that involves a drug deal. I’m passing down files with relevant information. Please take a few minutes to read through them before I continue.”
“What is CIVPOL?” Jazz asked from across the room.
“It’s the UN international police force. It has a division called Drug Trafficking and Prostitution Investigation Unit, headed by a man named Sun. He doesn’t particularly like the new UN directive.”
“Why?”
The man really liked to ask questions, Vivi decided. “The UN directive is like a tracking device,” she explained. “The peacekeepers and soldiers who are caught committing sexual crimes against the local women are handed back to their own authorities. There isn’t any world court system to put these men on trial, Lieutenant. You saw how you were released almost without paperwork. You were innocent, but those who aren’t don’t stay too long in there, either. The directive is aimed at stopping the act but not the criminal gangs that perpetuate the crime. Mr. Sun considers it a waste of time.”
“Do you agree?”
Jazz’s blue gaze was sharp and clear, and Vivi felt as if he could see right through her. She instinctively closed off her emotional response whenever it came to questions too close to home. “My job with the United Third World is as an observer. I have no say over whether the directive is a good one or not,” she informed him politely. She didn’t add that she also worked as a volunteer for their field program in placing orphans.
“We’re straying from the
Similar Books
