When women begin disappearing from U. S. Military bases around the world, the President calls in his personal troubleshooter. Can he find and save those women who have suddenly disappeared? Join us in a desperate journey that begins in San Diego and continues on to Washington, New York, London, Paris, Saudi Arabia and Israel, trying to find those missing women.

Code Name: Merlin

By George Wise

AuthorHouse

Copyright © 2011 George Wise
All right reserved.
ISBN: 978-1-4567-1208-2

Chapter One

San Diego

Julianne Nelson had never been so afraid. It was the kind of dread a mother feels when she sees her four-year-old child dart into traffic. She was driving to work on what seemed to be an average day, but with a terrible feeling deep in her bones. She had dropped her daughter, Mia, at her mother's house on Homer Street and was on her way to work.

Since both she and her husband Scott worked, Julianne's mother took care of Mia for her. Her mother lived alone since Julianne's father died years ago; she and Mia were good company for each other. So, on a sunny day in San Diego, with birds singing, and everyone healthy, with both she and her husband having secure jobs and close family and friends around them, she should have been happy and content ... instead she was trembling, using great effort merely to drive the car and to keep from crying.

It was a short drive down Chatsworth, a curvy street lined with Spanish- and Craftsman-style homes, past the house that belonged to the parents of one of the infamous Manson family women, up Catalina, past the wooded section of Point Loma, and out to SPAWAR Systems, where she was the secretary to the Commanding Officer, Admiral Harold (Hal) Sykes. SPAWAR (Space and Naval Warfare) supports the U.S. Navy's submarine fleet with tactical weapons and information systems.

At first she felt flattered to receive the note, even though she was married and the note anonymous. It felt good to know someone thought she was beautiful. Secretly, she knew she was attractive, had a pretty face and what guys called a great figure ... though it was fuller than she liked. It occurred to her that guys tended to say "great figure" and women tended to say "I need to lose a few pounds", both talking about the same figure. The whole thing was unsettling but flattering. Just when she thought that would be the end of it, more notes appeared, and then they started getting personal. Frankly they began to embarrass her. They including language she didn't even use in private with her husband. Because the notes were anonymous, she could neither respond nor get the writer to stop. At one point it was merely an intrusion, but then the notes got threatening, and now they were downright nasty as well. The writer said that she was ignoring him, didn't care about him, and that she was a snob. Then they got worse. Now they reached a point where they began to threaten not only Julianne, but her daughter, and even her mother. He obviously knew a lot about her private life, and that was part of the problem; she wasn't the only one in peril, so were her daughter and her mother. Moreover, if this were a casual acquaintance or a stranger, how did he learn so much about her personal business? So now here she was, trembling, about to cry, almost at work, and she had no idea what to do about it. She certainly didn't want to tell Scott about it; he had enough on his mind, what with him being a fighter pilot on deployment to the Persian Gulf. He didn't need to be distracted with something he could do nothing about

With SPAWAR Systems looming ahead, she found a place to park and went in. The guard, Barney, gave her a big smile, checked her ID and waved her through. Julianne was a little early so she had time to stop at the restroom and do a quick repair to her make-up. If she was lucky, nobody would know how upset she was. It was nobody else's business. Things like this were kept to oneself; that was what her mother taught her and she thought that was good advice.

She went through the normal early morning routine of organizing her office and making coffee for the Admiral. He liked his own brew; French roast from Trader Joe's, and he liked it made in his own pot, brewed strong and served with sugar. She had been the Commanding Officer's secretary for several years, but since the position rotated every two or three years, she only worked for this Admiral for a little over a year. She took a few deep breaths, popped a Breath-Saver into her mouth, and was ready to start her day at work. She kept her poise all week, but for some reason today, Friday, it all seemed to be too much to handle. Just then the Admiral walked in.

"Good morning, Julianne."

"Good morning, sir."

"Julianne, please come into my office, bring your note pad, and get me a cup of coffee. We need to plan the week ahead and I need some letters sent out."

"Yes, sir."

Julianne picked up her pad, went into the inner office, got the Admiral his coffee, got herself a cup at the same time, then sat down opposite him at the desk and waited for instructions. She was still trembling a little and afraid a tear would start to fall, but all in all felt she had control. It was then that he said "Julianne, what's wrong? I can tell that something is bothering you. I need you to be able to concentrate on what's going on here, and it's obvious that something has gotten to you. If it's something too personal, I'll butt out, but if you'll talk to me maybe I can help."

She couldn't keep all the emotions bottled up; the tears started flowing, she was having trouble breathing, so she just let it all go. After what seemed like forever, she finally stopped and told him what happened. She also told him that it was her problem and it wasn't fair to get him involved.

He just smiled and said, "You know, before I was assigned here I was an Assistant to the Joint Chiefs of Staff . Every so often a problem would come up and they always called on the same guy to help them. These were problems too small and frankly too delicate for the CIA or FBI or Military Intelligence. They needed to be kept secret, so they called a guy whose code name was Merlin. He was called that because somehow, once he got involved, the problem magically disappeared. Officially, he is one of the Special Assistants to the President of the United States, but he serves the President, the Cabinet, and the Joint Chiefs as well. Being listed as a Special Assistant to the President, he has access to anything he needs to solve a problem, from weaponry, to aircraft, to intelligence, and he has the most top secret of clearances. Because of his proximity to the President, he gets whatever he wants, whenever he wants.

"The reason I mention him is that he lives here in San Diego and I believe he's between assignments. He and I have become close friends and, if he's not on an assignment, I'm sure he can help solve your problem. In fact, you're in luck, because today is Friday and when he's in town he has lunch every Friday at Seau's restaurant in Mission Valley. He and a few of his friends enjoy a good cigar and have lunch out on the patio. Outdoors is one of the few places left they can smoke. He should be there today. In fact, I'll take you over there myself, treat you to lunch, and introduce you to him. He usually gets there by 11:30 A.M. and the rest of the guys trickle in around noon, so plan to leave with me at eleven and plan to be gone till one-thirty or two. This may well be the most productive lunch you've ever had.

"I'll only ask one thing of you: everything you learn about him must be kept secret. No one can know who this guy is or what he does unless he himself tells them. He has a favorite saying, 'There is something to be said for done,' and he somehow will get the job done. No publicity, no one will ever hear about it, but suddenly the problem is gone. As I said, that's why they call him Merlin, because, like magic, he'll...