Grey Lady

by Paul Kemprecos

  Flagg watched them go and slowly removed his sunglasses. Flagg tends to be stone-faced, but his thin lips widened in a beatific smile and his heavy-lidded eyes half closed.

  “Don’t you love it?” he said.

  “Love what, Flagg?”

  “Don’t you just love it when the Indians come to the rescue of the palefaces?”

  CHAPTER 26

  I’d never admit it to Flagg, but I’d been humbled by the ease with which Ramsey delivered a savvy, smart guy like me into the hands of Chernko’s Russian gangsters and their pals.

  “What was that all about?” Flagg said as he watched the departing Tahoe merge into the slow-moving traffic.

  “We need to talk,” I said.

  “Thought you’d never ask. Got a better place than this?”

  I thought about it, and then asked him to drive me to the MG and tail me out of town. Flagg never goes anywhere without his personal arsenal. If the Russians tried a second pass, he’d be in a good position to discourage them. Still, as I drove onto Polpis Road, I glanced frequently in the rearview mirror. The only car I saw was Flagg’s rental.

  About a mile from Siasconset, we turned off onto a side road that ascended to the Sankety Head lighthouse. The light tower is perched atop a hundred-foot-high bluff that offers a sweeping view of the elements that define Nantucket: rolling heath and dunes. The deep blue sea. And the greens and fairways of a golf course that caters to the corporate royalty who can afford the stratospheric membership dues. As we strolled from the parking lot to the light, I asked how he had found me at the harbor.

  “I got your phone message. Sorry for the delay. I was on the other side of the world, up to my eyeballs in water buffalo dung. I’m supposed to be in Langley now for a debriefing. I told my boss I had to make a stop on the Vineyard. Made a slight detour to Nantucket.”

  When he couldn’t reach me by the phone, he had rented a car at the airport. He drove to the Daggett house and talked with the housekeepers, who said they had seen me go out earlier in the day. Flagg still had the business card with Lisa’s office address. She was meeting with her client, but she showed Flagg my note and gave him directions to the marina.

  Flagg had noticed the Tahoe parked near the boat dock and didn’t think anything about it until he eyeballed the four tough-looking guys lounging near the SUV. They were looking out at the harbor at an approaching sailboat. He had a pair of pocket binoculars and used them to see that I was on the boat. When the men got back into the SUV, he assumed they were waiting for me. And that they were up to no good. Flagg has always said to use the nearest weapon at hand. In his case, it was his car, which he employed as a battering ram.

  We walked around the lighthouse, keeping away from the camera-toting tourists snapping pictures of the red-and-white brick tower. Flagg looked wearier than the last time I had seen him only a few days before. Wrinkles had deepened around the mouth. His nut-brown complexion had darkened to a chestnut tone and the skin was shredded on his eagle nose. I noticed pouches as big as suitcases under his eyes when he stopped and removed the mirrored aviator sunglasses to let the sunlight bake his face. His eyes were closed and he was taking deep breaths of the air which smelled of seaweed and salt-spray rose.

  “You okay, John?” I said.

  His eyelids opened to a half-squint. The rare use of his first name seemed to catch him by surprise. “Yeah, thanks. I’m all right. Must look like crap. Saving the world takes a lot more out of me than it used to. Getting older.”

  “Judging from the blisters on your nose, you were saving the world in a warm climate.”

  “It was warm all right. Not Miami Beach by a long shot, though.”

  He looked out at the sea with the gaze that soldiers call the fifty-yard stare. Flagg had pretty much seen it all, so his assignment must have been a tough one this time around. There was nothing I could say that would help. I kept my silence to allow Flagg to work it out as he always had.

  He finally said, “I apologize for the black-out, Soc. Some of the stuff I see is getting to me. Especially the kids.” He filled his lungs and exhaled. “Smells good after twelve hours in a plane.” He took a few more breaths and looked up at the cast-iron lens housing at the top of the lighthouse. “Damned pretty sight. Seventy-feet high. Built in 1850 to keep ships off Nantucket Shoals.”

  “Didn’t know you were a tour guide, Flagg.”

  “Just digging into my Native American roots. Sankety’s a Wampanoag word that means highland. Guy from Aquinnah named Vanderhoop was one of the principal keepers. I remember him talking about it. Old keeper’s house is gone, but it must have been some gig working out here. Imagine seeing this view every day.” He slipped the sunglasses back on. I could feel his eyes boring into me through the silver lenses that reflected my face. “Okay. Tour’s over. What the hell was going on with you and those hoods at the harbor?”

  “Two of them were Chernko’s goons. The same guys who tried to rough me up back on the mainland, and probably torched my boat. I don’t know the others. They wanted me to go for a little ride. I don’t think they had a sightseeing tour of the island in mind.”

  “Do tell. I never knew Nantucketers were so friendly.”

  Flagg had a dim view of the snooty island to the east of Martha’s Vineyard.

  “Friendly isn’t the word for it. It’s a good thing you came along when you did.”

  He pasted a phony sad smile on his lips. “Last time I was in these parts, you were dodging bullets. Hell, Soc, you riling folks up again with your wise-ass jokes?”

  “I wish it were that easy.” I let out a big sigh.

  “I advised you to cool it with Chernko. Guess you ignored my sage advice.”

  “You were right. I’m in way over my head.”

  “I figured that things were hitting the fan after I heard your panicked phone message. You never learn, Soc. Now you’re looking for help because you’ve got a big bad Russian on your ass.”

  “This is a lot bigger than the little feud over my boat, Flagg. I’ll tell you about it when you’re through with the sermon.”

  “Okay. I’m done. Now tell me what’s going on.”

  “I’m not sure. Maybe you can figure it out.”

  I told Flagg about the talk with Tanya and her mention of the Volga’s midnight cruises. Flagg had known me a long time, and wasn’t surprised when I said I’d shadowed the yacht, and spied on the Volga when it anchored off shore where Ramsey had his house.

  “Refresh my memory. Ramsey was the big businessman you mentioned. Friends with Chernko.”

  “That’s right. More than friends. They’re business partners.”

  “Okay, so the yacht goes out to do some night-fishing. What’s the big deal?”

  “If they were fishing, they were using some funny-looking gear. I saw them lower something into the water using an A-frame crane. The object looked like a big box, but I couldn’t be sure because of the darkness and the distance. Then the yacht just sat there. I got bored and after a while, started for home. I’d only been on the move a few minutes when I got hit.”

  “Hit by what, Soc?”

  “Don’t know.” I described the weird multiple rapping that preceded the boat’s sinking, the blue lights in the water and the ragged hole in the hull. Flagg responded with a grunt that could have meant anything or nothing.

  “Go on,” he said.

  “Next thing, the helicopter from the yacht was hovering overhead. I hid under the boat and eventually the chopper went back to the yacht. Then my boat sank. I swam to the beach. Ramsey’s mansion made a good landmark.”

  “My guess is that you didn’t knock on the door and ask for a shot of Johnny Walker.”

  “I thought it might be rude to just drop in. Besides, Ramsey was out on the yacht. I started inland, which was when I
came across the old Cold War bunker.”

  “Now you’ve really got my attention, Soc.”

  “Ramsey’s property used to belong to the navy. Rumor has it that he acquired the land through some sort of sweetheart deal. Kennedy used to vacation across the Sound at Hyannisport. The feds built a shelter for JFK near the Nantucket airport so they could protect him in case of nuclear attack.”

  “I knew about the airport shelter. Never heard they built a second one.”

  “The second one had sleeping quarters for twelve. I figured it was staff.”

  Flagg shook his head. “Leadership of the Free World would have been a bunch of folks scared out of their minds, hiding in a hole in the ground. How’d you get home from Ramsey’s place?”

  “I broke into the garage and stole one of Ramsey’s cars. A Bentley. I busted through the front gate and left the car in town.”

  “Bentley. You’ve got good taste. Sounds like you had a lucky night. Ride in a nice car and you got clean away.”

  “Not exactly. I bumped into Ramsey in town today. I thought that it was a little too convenient, but I went along when he invited me to go out for a sail in his boat. I was hoping he might tell me something I didn’t know.”

  “And did he?”

  “Unfortunately, yes. He had tracked me down through the boat’s hull registration. He knew I was spying on the yacht that night. He even knew that I had boosted his car. He said that I’d blundered into business that could get me killed and warned me to get off the island.”

  “From what I saw, he gave you good advice.”

  “A tad late. When he saw the welcome party on the dock, he said something about events moving faster than he expected. It was almost an apology. Strange.”

  “You saying he didn’t set you up?”

  “I think he was in on the set-up, but was looking for an out. Unlike Chernko, who wants me dead because he thinks I know more than I do about the big project.”

  “First thing you’ve said about a project. But you haven’t told me what it is.”

  “That’s because I don’t know what it is! Tanya mentioned that she’d overheard Ramsey and Chernko talking about something called Max, over on the mainland at Woods Hole. I poked around and learned MAC was the name of a high-tech company. Marine Autonomous Corporation. The owner was a guy named Sean Malloy. I found the lab, but it was deserted.”

  “Which meant there was no one to stop you from snooping around.”

  “True. They had surveillance cameras, but I neutralized them. I think.”

  “You think?”

  I explained how I’d covered my body and head with a trash bag.

  “Smart,” he said, deadpan. “They’re gonna be looking for a walking trash bag. You get inside the lab?”

  I nodded. “There was a deep pool that looked like it might have been used for testing underwater gear. There were some empty computer cubicles and photos on the walls. Pictures of ants and bees.”

  Flagg frowned. “Run that by me again.”

  I did, including details on the diagrams I’d seen on the blackboard. “Stuff didn’t make sense.”

  “They may make more sense than you think, Soc.”

  “You know something?”

  “Maybe. What about this guy, Malloy?”

  “He’s a robotics scientist. And he’s among the missing. My cousin Alex has been trying to track him down.”

  “Alex? That little druggie puke we had to straighten out back in the day?”

  “That’s the one. He’s a family man now with two kids and a law practice.”

  “He grew up to be a lawyer? Huh. That figures.”

  “He says Malloy has disappeared off the face of the earth. And we’ve since learned that Chernko is heavily involved in the international drug trade.”

  Flagg let out a low whistle. “Gets better and better.”

  “There’s lots more,” I said. “I’ll tell you about it when you explain what you’ve been hearing around Washington.”

  The lips parted in a quick smile. “Here’s the thing. I’ve been picking up rumors. Top secret, so it’s nothing official. Just give me a little time and I’ll tell you where I’m heading.”

  “Fair enough. Back to your question, I think Malloy is right under our noses. He’s being kept prisoner.”

  I gave him a shortened version of the uninvited visit Lisa and I made to the bunker.

  “You’ve been a busy boy, Soc. Bringing that pretty lady into this mess wasn’t smart.”

  “All she knows is that someone has been living in the old bunker. I didn’t mention the Malloy connection. I don’t want to place her in danger.”

  “Might be too late for that, Soc.”

  “I know. That’s why I want to get back into that bunker tonight. Will you help me?”

  Flagg didn’t hesitate. “Okay. I’ve got to get down to D.C. for a debriefing and a hot shower. I’ll fly back to Nantucket later tonight and we can make our move. Watch your ass in the meantime, in case the Ruskies come looking for you again.”

  “I’ll lay low until you get back.” We shook hands and walked to the parking lot.

  Flagg leaned against his car. He surveyed the scenery and let out a loud sigh.

  “I was hoping for a little R and R. Shoulda known better.” He slapped me on the back, got into the car, and started the motor.

  I watched his car for a moment, then strolled around the lighthouse. I let the sea air blow through one ear and out the other. My thoughts went back to the sail with Ramsey. He had said that it was hard to believe Daggett could have killed Coffin. When I quoted the Greek thing about the sins of the fathers being visited upon the sons, Ramsey had agreed with that assessment, saying it seemed that way, Coffin and Daggett suffering because of what their ancestors did in that whaleboat.

  Hard to imagine how it must have been with these three men throwing dice to see who would sacrifice himself for the others.

  Back up, Soc. I asked myself how Ramsey knew they threw dice. The story I had heard from Sutcliffe was that they drew straws. How had Ramsey known about the dice unless he had seen Coffin’s scrimshaw record and the panel labeled: The Fatal Toss?

  I turned my back on the lighthouse and got behind the wheel of the MG.

  Maybe I’d find the answer to my questions in the Nantucket time warp.

  CHAPTER 27

  The household shrink must have been exhausted from the rigors of stalking me all over Nantucket. As I drove up to the Daggett place, I noticed that the Miata wasn’t in front of his cottage. With Rosen away, this would be a good time to see Daggett. The second I set foot in the house, my nostrils quivered at the delicious scents flowing from the kitchen. Mrs. Gomes was stirring a big pot on the stove.

  “Kale soup?” I said.

  She flashed her lovely smile. “I know it’s a little heavy for the hot weather, but the captain loves it. I used my summer recipe. Local turnips instead of potatoes, so it’s lighter than winter soup. Want to try some and see if it’s okay? I usually test it on my husband, but he’s in town.”

  “Testing kale soup is one of my specialties,” I said.

  She grabbed a bowl from the cupboard and filled it with the steaming concoction. I slurped down a spoonful without blowing on it and burned my mouth. I didn’t care. The earthy taste of kale combined with the spice of linguica sausage was a marriage made in heaven. I quickly emptied the bowl.

  “I guess it was good,” she said.

  “Better than good. Fantastic.”

  She held the ladle over the pot. “Want some more?”

  “Maybe after I see Mr. Daggett. How is he today?”

  She tasted a spoonful of soup and added more salt to the pot. She frowned, but it had nothing to do with the soup. “Phil
said that he’s changed in the last day or so.”

  “In what way, Mrs. Gomes?”

  “He says the old man paces back and forth a lot. Keeps looking out that big window with his spyglass. Crazy-eyed. Doesn’t say much. He’s letting himself go, too. Phil says his beard looks like a bird’s nest. He only eats breakfast and lunch. Doesn’t touch his dinner.”

  “Maybe your soup will cheer him up. I’d be happy to take some into him.”

  She filled another bowl, and set it on a tray with a spoon and napkin. I carried the tray up the main stairs to the captain’s quarters and knocked on the door with the side of my foot.

  “Who goes there?” Daggett called out.

  I switched to Melville-speak and growled, “ ‘Tis Starbuck, Captain Ahab.”

  “Don’t stand there, Starbuck. Approach the quarterdeck, lad.”

  I juggled the tray with one hand, opened the door with the other and stepped inside. The captain was standing on the raised floor with his back to the window.

  “Cook asked me to bring you some grub, Captain.”

  I set the tray on the table after noticing that the top had been cleared of charts. Daggett stepped down from the window and removed his slouch hat. His unkempt hair hadn’t seen a comb recently. The mouth-watering smell of the soup was too much for him to resist. He limped over to the table, sat down and scooped a big spoonful into his mouth. That was the end of his fast. He dug in until the bowl was empty. Drops of soup got into his matted beard, but he didn’t seem to care. He sat back and motioned for me to take a chair.

  “Tell Cook that I’ll soon reward him with enough fresh whale meat to slice up for a hundred steaks from the carcass of the white whale. The evil creature’s end is near.”

  “How soon, Captain?”