“She’s fine, Uncle.”
“Good. We chase bad guys again sometime, Aristotle, but not too soon. The Artemis is tired, like me. She has to rest for the trip back home.”
I looked up from my glass. “Home? You’re going back to Florida?”
“Sure, nephew. I go back to sponging. Don’t worry, no diving,” he said quickly. “I just run the boat and tell the young divers what a smart fellow I am.”
“What about the tin wreck?”
He wrestled with the question a moment. “I’m too old for treasure hunt,” he said finally. “For me it’s a way to fill my head so there is no room for sadness over Thalia. Okay, now I’m not sad anymore. I know she is still with me. I can talk to her. She just can’t talk back. No problem. She’ll have lots to tell me when I see her again. Up there.” He pointed to the sky.
“Won’t you have to pay back the money you borrowed for this trip?”
“No problem, nephew. Harry wants to be my partner. He says the burger stores run by themselves. So he buys into the Artemis, I pay off my load with the money. Harry’s not a bad fellow. Lonely like me. We have many laughs. Maybe I make him a dive tender. We go back south together. It’s too cold up here. What about you, Aristotle? What you going to do?”
“Go back to fishing, I guess.”
“That’s all? You should get married, have kids someday so I can tell them octopus stories.”
I held my glass out and he filled it again. “Sure, Uncle. I’ll look up one day and see a pretty girl holding a white dove with blue ribbons on its feet.”
Uncle Constantine leaned over and embraced me. Then he poured himself more ouzo. I was getting buzzed, looking at two glowing cigarette butts. Ouzo is a treacherous drink. The sweet taste masks the alcohol, so it’s potency sneaks up on you. I tried to stand. My legs felt like sticks of butter and the deck started playing tag with the bow. I steadied myself on my chair. My uncle grabbed me by the arm and steered me below.
“Tonight you sleep in the arms of Artemis,” he said.
I made it down the steps. The bunk came up to meet my face and all the world went black.
About a thousand years later I awakened. I was still facedown on the bunk. A blanket covered me. I could smell coffee. I pushed my chin up and called out for Uncle Constantine.
He came below, patted me on the back, and filled a mug with black coffee from the stove.
“You okay, Aristotle?”
“Yeah, I’ll be fine. Thanks for the bunk, Uncle.” I sat up and felt better after some coffee.
“If you try to drive truck last night, they fish you out of the harbor. My fault. I give you too much to drink.”
“I’m big enough to say no, Uncle.”
He shrugged, unconvinced. I followed him onto the deck, blinking at the bright morning sunlight. The marina had a festive atmosphere. People were getting ready to head out for some fun time on the water. The big steamship authority ferryboat was cruising out of the harbor on its way to Nantucket. I had another cup of coffee that woke me up by several more degrees, then thanked Uncle Constantine and told him I had some business to attend to.
“I talk to your mother,” he said. “Tell her everything okay. She says you and me come up to the house Sunday for baked lamb. I say fine. Like old times, Aristotle.”
I grabbed him around the shoulders. “Just like old times, Uncle.”
From the marina I drove across the Cape to Jill’s house. Her Volvo was in the drive, and behind it was Walden Schiller’s black van and the blue Jeep. I went up and rang the front doorbell. Ned the Green Beret answered the door. I told him I wanted to see Walden Schiller. He moved out of the way, but as I stepped inside he dug his strong fingers into my biceps. I tensed.
“Heard you were in ’Nam,” he said.
“Yeh,” I said. “Marines.”
He grunted. “You didn’t handle yourself too bad in New Bedford. For a gyrene.”
I looked into his hazel eyes. There was madness in them.
“You were pretty good, too. For a Green Beanie.”
He opened his mouth to show a tooth missing. “Sorry about the other night here. Putting a knife to your throat.”
“That’s okay, pal. I probably needed a shave anyhow.”
He didn’t hear me. He cocked his head to listen to other voices. “It’s crazy,” he said.
“What is?”
“Everything.”
I gently removed his hand from my sleeve. Ned seemed to snap out of a daze.
“They’re out back. Follow me.” We walked through the house and onto a sunny flagstone patio. Walden Schiller was seated at a circular white metal table in the shade of a yellow umbrella. Next to him was Sara, the young dark-haired woman who never smiled. Beside her was Jill, sending out her usual sunbeams. She sprang from her chair and came over.
“Soc!” She threw her arms around me. “My hero.”
“I may have to get sick if you keep this up.”
“But you are! You rescued me and took care of Dan Austin, too. If that’s not a hero, I don’t know what is.”
“Have it your way, sweetie pie.” I looked over her head. “Hello, Walden.”
Schiller grinned and gathered together a pile of papers on the table.
“Good to see you, Soc. Have a seat.”
I sat beside sullen Sara. “Did I interrupt something?”
“Oh no,” Schiller replied. “We were just going over our plans for SOS.”
“What exactly are your plans?”
He took a seat across from me. “Still hashing them out. There are all sorts of possibilities. This is a great opportunity. I wouldn’t be surprised if Jill got a movie offer for her story. Young woman goes undercover and busts a worldwide whale-smuggling ring. With some help, of course. No offense to you, Soc.”
“None taken. I agree. Jill took all the risks. I’m glad to hear SOS may go Hollywood. So I guess you won’t have to bomb Oceanus.”
The shrewd eyes narrowed. “What do you mean, Soc?”
“I’ll say it in one word. Semtex.”
“I’m afraid you’ll have to explain.”
“Semtex. It’s a plastic explosive made in Czechoslovakia. Terrorists use it to make a big bang. They put a couple of pounds of the stuff in a portable radio to blow Pan Am flight 103 out of the sky. I heard you’ve got some. With Oceanus getting ready to open in a few days, I just wondered if you were going to use it.”
I glanced around at the others. It was hard to tell from Ned’s perpetually vacant expression what he was thinking, but Sara looked like a kid who’d been caught with a crib note up her sleeve.
Schiller saw the initiative drifting from him to me and snatched it back.
“You’re obsessed, Soc. Nobody can prove we made bomb threats. I told you before, that would be against the law.”
“Spare me the irony, Walden. Let’s talk facts. The future of Oceanus seems pretty shaky. Rocky, its main attraction, is contraband. Austin is in jail. The park is on the financial rocks. So if you did have some explosives, you really don’t need them anymore.”
“I agree that Oceanus isn’t looking too great. But there’s just too much money invested in the place to close it down and make it into a gift shop. I’m being totally realistic about the publicity. After the furor dies down, we’ll be back to square one. Oceanus could have a new owner and it’ll be business as usual. Even so, there are whales held in jails all over the country. Our job isn’t over until they’re all free.”
“You may be right, Walden. But Uncle Sam is nervous about that Semtex. He knows a few tons of plastique are floating around the Middle East, and this would be just that much less to worry about.”
“You’re trying to make a point, Soc. What are you saying?”
“I’m saying that I might give you a reason to rearrange your thinkin
g. In return, maybe you could see the Semtex gets put someplace where it can’t do any harm.”
“I’m listening. Make me an offer I can’t refuse.”
“I can’t right now. You and the gang look like you’re having a good time here. I’d like you to relax for a day or two until I put this deal together.”
Schiller looked around at his colleagues. It was a polite gesture. There was no doubt he called the shots for the Sentinels.
“Okay,” he said. “I’m intrigued. Let’s see what you can do.”
“Fair enough. Thanks for your time.”
Jill said she would walk me to my truck.
“By the way,” I said as we strolled around to the front, “what made you suspect Livingston?”
“I didn’t at first,” she said. “I trusted him because he seemed so sincere, so genuine. I started hanging around Rocky a lot, but I didn’t suspect anything until I got into the files they keep on the animals.”
“Austin mentioned them. They keep a complete dossier on all the animals.”
“That’s right. Rocky’s file mentioned he’d been sick and recovered after treatment. They had a sketch in the file showing Rocky’s markings, too. It was probably drawn up when the new whale came in because the picture showed Rocky with two notches in his dorsal. They must have destroyed as many of the old publicity shots as they could, but I remembered seeing one fin notch in an old publicity photo of Rocky I found in the box office. I had no idea of what was going on. Who could have? But I figured if something was wrong, Livingston had to know because he was taking care of Rocky back when he was sick. My pictures would have proved it, but I wanted more evidence, that’s why I went poking around his house the night they caught me. It was dumb not to tell Walden I was going there.”
“Not dumb at all, Jill. Walden was right. You’re really responsible for breaking the case.”
“I still can’t get over Dr. Livingston. Did he really think he could just smuggle in whales forever without getting caught?”
“No, he knew Rocky was pretty much a onetime shot. You couldn’t just bring a new killer whale into an aquarium without the feds asking lots of questions about where it came from. He told me he planned to set up an orca-breeding facility legally in another country. Canada maybe. He’d breed whales to sell there, but more important he could use it as a cover to launder whales caught in the wild. He had big plans for Oceanus. Once he got a pair of whales there, he could start breeding them legally, then he’d open an Oceanus two and so on.”
“He was the guy who hated to see whales in prison, even for the good of science.”
“You can convince yourself of the righteousness of anything. Look at Walden.”
We were out of earshot. Her face was serious as I had ever seen it. “Walden said he doesn’t have any faith in the system. He says Oceanus and all the marine parks like it are abominations that should be blown off the face of the earth.”
“You don’t have to tell me this, Jill. They’d say you were a snitch if they ever find out.”
“I am a snitch. I’m the one who told the newspapers about the holes in Eddy Byron’s wet suit.”
I looked at her anxious face and laughed. “Trouble comes in all shapes and sizes, I suppose. Whom are you going to shake up next?”
She glanced back at the house. “My parents. They’re coming home in another week. I’m going to ask my dad to bankroll me back into college. Time for me to grow up, I guess.” She stood on her toes and gave me a kiss on the cheek. “Thanks again for all you’ve done.”
“That’s good news about school. I suggest you move the SOS command post before your parents come home. It might put your father in a better frame of mind.” I told her to keep in touch, got into my truck, and headed out the drive.
Kojak was going to be furious with me. I had left him dry food for a couple of days, but he hated the stuff, and I couldn’t blame him. I’d have to stop off for a case of 9-Lives assorted flavors to get back into his good graces.
On the drive home, I thought about Ned’s philosophical mutterings. He was shell-shocked, but he wasn’t dumb. After the past week, I’d be the first to agree with him. Everything is crazy.
Chapter 33
Simon Otis stood with his back to me, looking out the window toward Logan Airport. His hands were clasped behind him. He had been standing rigidly in this position for at least five minutes, watching the air traffic in silence. He spoke, finally.
“Well,” he said. “Seems as if things are in a bloody mess, aren’t they?”
I sat at the long table doodling smiley faces in a Bay State Investments notepad. A folder with my typed report lay open nearby.
Otis continued his soliloquy. “The manager of Oceanus is in jail charged with murder. Our killer whale turns out to be contraband. And our Japanese investors have gone back to Tokyo at the first hint of scandal, taking their checkbooks with them.”
He turned slowly and looked at me with his piercing gray eyes.
“It might have been better if we had never hired you, Mr. Socarides.”
I put the ballpoint pen down.
“Austin would have gotten away with murder, Mr. Otis. And Livingston would still be smuggling whales and dolphins.”
Otis came over and sat at the head of the table. “Yes, of course,” he said. “It would never do to have criminals running around, would it? Well, you don’t have any suggestions, do you?”
“Yes, sir,” I replied. “As a matter of fact, I do.”
He glanced up under frosty eyebrows. His question had been rhetorical. I told him what I had in mind anyway. When I was through talking, he smiled tightly and toyed with one side of his mustache.
“You told me public relations wasn’t your specialty, Mr. Socarides. I think you underestimate yourself.”
I shrugged and doodled some more while he thought things over. After a moment, he said, “I’ll run your suggestions by the Bay State board of directors.” He stood and extended his hand. “Thank you for coming. I’ll have the limo run you home.”
“Thank you for sending it. It beats the hell out of the P and B bus any day.”
He acknowledged my gratitude with a slight nod. His thoughts were already elsewhere.
The black stretch limo was waiting for me at the front door. I settled into the plush seat and opened the bar. There was no Bud, so I had to settle for Heineken’s. I asked the chauffeur if I could use the telephone. He said it was no skin off his nose, so I played big-time executive.
I called Sam’s house and left a message with Millie saying I would go fishing tomorrow, gave Dan Shaughnessy a ring to tell him I would send him a copy of my report, then called Parmenter at the state-police barracks.
“Glad you caught me,” he said. “I was just cleaning the stuff off my desk. Hope to be out of here in about an hour.”
“Thanks again for helping me in my case and for keeping Pacheco off my butt.”
“It was worth it for the chance to see his face when he found out you got the collars in his murder investigation. He looked like he’d just been plucked out of the beet patch. He’s going to have a lot of explaining to do and I don’t think he’ll bother you for a long time, but just the same, I’d stay under the speed limit when you go through his town.”
“I will, John. And I’ll give you a call the next time I’m in Boston.”
“You make sure you do that. Maybe I can get another assignment down this way again. The file’s still open on the Mid-Cape Flasher.”
“No maybes about it. What if I call you in a couple of weeks? I’ll take you out fishing.”
There was a pause at the other end of the line, then Parmenter said, “I’d like that. Yeah, I’d like that fine.”
Next I called Sally. I said I had a few things to explain to her and asked her if she wanted to come to a family lamb dinner Sunday. She said she w
ould. I called my mother to let her know I was bringing a friend.
“A girlfriend?” she asked.
“A woman friend,” I said.
“Ah,” she said. She was too polite to ask any more questions. “Your friends are always welcome in our house. Uncle Constantine called. He sounds very happy. He was not trouble, after all, Aristotle?”
“No, Ma, he was no trouble at all.”
I said good-bye to Rocky for the last time about a month later.
He was hanging above a tractor trailer, wrapped in a nylon sling like a stork-delivered baby. The sling was attached by a cable to a crane at the rear of the orca pool. Sally and I stood on the trailer next to a thirty-five-foot-long fiberglass tank partially filled with seawater.
I patted his side. “Say hello to the mermaids for me, pal.”
Sally gave him a kiss on the nose. “Good-bye, Rocky. I’ll never forget you.” She reached out to touch his skin one more time. Then I signaled the crane operator and he gently lowered Rocky into the tank. A couple of workers bolted aluminum sides and a roof onto the trailer. Minutes later the truck started and drove off.
We walked around the now empty pool to the bleachers where Walden Schiller sat watching Rocky’s departure. Sally lingered near the pool while I went over to talk to Walden. He got up and came over to shake my hand.
“Well, tally one for our side,” he said. “How did you do it?”
“Easy, really. I told Simon Otis the truth. That Rocky was smuggled goods. That even if Bay State won the legal fight to keep him, it would raise a hell of a fuss and cost his company enormous legal expenses. And after that, they’d have a whale nobody could be sure of, an animal that may have killed once and could kill again, in public, in the middle of a show.”
“Do you really believe that would have happened?”
“I just laid out the possibilities. Otis was ripe for a good suggestion. So I proposed that he take the initiative before the feds did and return Rocky to the wild. Bay State couldn’t buy that kind of favorable publicity for a million bucks.”
Death in Deep Water Page 32