by Frank Perry
like him. With that qualification he could only observe them on deck to see if they had any fishing boat experience. Luckily, the nets went off smoothly, and the next few hours would be peaceful. He sat back in his chair, relaxing with his feet on the steering console, which was managing itself. It was a calm morning until the deck foreman came to the bridge. “Hey, Skip, there’s a chopper trailing us.”
Pete followed him down the ladder to the main deck and could clearly see the helicopter, approaching from behind. The shiny paint and glass canopy glistened in the morning sun. Queen didn’t have a helipad like the two larger Peña ships, so they weren’t planning to land. As it got closer, Pete walked to the stern and stared upward, expecting to see some markings or signaling from the aircraft. The helicopter was a plain white Bell 206 with a stabilized camera pod underneath. It hovered about a hundred feet above the stern then moved from one side to the other. Pete waived his arms but got no response from the pilot or crew. The whole encounter lasted only two minutes before the helicopter departed. He wasn’t sure what to make of it. He went back to the bridge alone, trying to figure out what to do next.
A few hours later, the FBI crime lab issued a report. Kasey McDougal had an electronic copy before the end of the day. She decided not to send a copy to John Richards, but called him.
“John, we have preliminary analysis that could prove Peña’s boat, the Ocean Queen, transported Jose’s car. The dimensions and shape of the stern appear to be identical to the creases on the car.”
“What do you mean ‘appears’ identical, Kasey?”
“We took video from directly above, to get the geometry. Then we got a good dimensional reference when one of the crew stood on the back. He’s a known felon, and the lab was able to compute the stern arc dimensions based on that man’s height in relation.”
“So, you gonna execute a warrant to go on the boat?”
“No. Not yet. I need more evidence, involving Peña himself.”
“How much more?”
“I don’t know, John, but we don’t want to have him crawl inside his shell prematurely, or make a run for it.”
Union
Luca wasn’t in the office when his assistant, Roxanne, called. “You had a call from a guy named Mohamed Al-Zeid. He really freaked me out, started coming-on over the phone.”
“Don’t worry about him, Roxanne. He’s not coming anywhere near San Francisco. I’ll call him, and you can go home, we won’t have any play time tonight.” Peña promised his wife to attend his daughter’s school play.
He called Mojo. “Hey, what’s up?”
Mojo replied, “We should meet.”
They would not discuss business over the phone. “How about Santa Barbara tomorrow, I’ll make arrangements. You be in the area by two o’clock, and I’ll have someone contact you about the location. I’ll have only my driver (Ramon) with me. I suggest the same for you.” He didn’t tell him to avoid being followed. There are too many covert ways to track cars that could not be avoided. Mojo knew it as well.
Luca called Roxanne on her mobile phone. “I want you to arrange the best suite at the Biltmore in Santa Barbara.”
The union with Mojo’s operation would be complex. Peña had his own western distributors that would not work for Mojo. None of this would be written down. Even though the risk from his distributors, making a deal with the Feds, was now Mojo’s problem, Peña still needed to have an escape plan if Mojo was compromised. On balance, his risks were slightly less with a union, and he wasn’t worried about Mojo, planting a bomb under his car. He would sleep well tonight.
Driving toward home, Peña called Senator Jenson late at his home number. Peña was probably the only constituent who had the Senator’s home phone number. It was after ten o’clock in Washington, and the Senator did not answer, so he called Jenson’s mobile number, which answered on the third ring. “Hello, Senator. Did I catch you sleeping?” From the background discussions, Peña knew Jenson was at some kind of function.
“Why no, my friend. Let me step outside for a moment.” It struck Peña that Jenson didn’t want to acknowledge him by name, although he clearly recognized the voice. There was a long pause with muted dialogue before he could hear steps on a hard surface, and the background noise faded away. “So, Luca how are you?”
“I’m fine Senator, and how are you?”
“Oh, I’m at one of those obligatory party functions at Congressional Country Club. We’re all conspiring about how to take back the White House.”
“Well, I know it’s late, but I just wanted to see if our favorite language is continuing in the draft Appropriations Bill?”
“Well, Luca. Not only is it intact, but Senator Blithe’s staff is nosing around to see who’s supporting it.”
“Can she make a difference?”
“Well, yes, she’s well-connected. Doesn’t campaign for much, but she could be a powerful influence on how this goes. She won’t support it half-heartedly. It’s all or nothing.”
“Well, let’s hope for a favorable outcome, Senator.”
“Yes, and I had an interesting chat with Congressman Romanoff. His staff recently called the Senate committee staff about the language in our bill. It seems that Romanoff wants to raise the issue in the House.”
Luca asked. “Who’s Romanoff? I never heard of him.”
“Oh, he’s a darling of the Ohio Delegates, a war hero from Cleveland. A bachelor with a really colorful lifestyle. He’s always in the tabloids that the ladies read. Sometimes the news is good and sometimes scandalous, but he’s got a huge popular following. He doesn’t get any real competition for election in his district and has built up a lot of credits with the members, if you get my drift. If he gets behind something, he generally gets his way.”
“Sounds like he could be a powerful ally (problem). What can we do for (about) him?”
“Well, Luca. He’s got a little problem that could probably use your help.”
“I’m always there to help, Senator.”
“I know you are, Luca. You see, Aaron Romanoff is being investigated for indecent assault, statutory rape, on one of his Cleveland office interns. She’s only sixteen. This could undo him in this year’s election if the Cleveland DA indicts him.”
“Well, that’s interesting.”
“Yes, it’s in all the news here in Washington but doesn’t reach the West Coast. It should be all over the news soon, once the DA files in Cleveland.”
Luca said, “This all revolves around the girl’s testimony, I assume?”
“Yes again, Luca. She’s the only witness. She claims to love the Congressman, but her parents are pressing it. I think they want to extort money for Romanoff while he’s running for reelection.”
“Is the Congressman wealthy?”
“Not that I know of.”
Luca surmised, “Interesting. So, Romanoff can influence the House, if he weren’t distracted with this legal stuff?”
“Indeed, Luca. Indeed.”
In the cryptic speak of open communications Peña and the Senator were cautious about revealing their real meanings. Peña didn’t know anything about Blithe. She wasn’t in the news, particularly in California. Romanoff presented another interesting obstacle, but he was home before he could ponder the message from Jenson completely. His drive to Pacific Heights was only ten minutes from his office. As usual, Peña did not enter his compound until the front security detail walked to the gate and signaled that it was safe. It was a routine followed since they moved to San Francisco’s premier luxury community ten years earlier.
Pacific Heights is the most scenic hilltop area in the city with mansions and huge estates on the most expensive real estate in America. From Peña’s elevated position located on five walled acres, they enjoyed views of the Golden Gate Bridge, San Francisco Bay, Alcatraz and the Presidio. The Heights are located on a hilltop above the Marina District where his office was located. The area ha
s two spectacular parks, Lafayette and Alta Plaza with awesome views of the city and the bay. The area is one of the first exclusive areas to be developed during the boom years of the great California gold rush but was destroyed and reconstructed after the 1906 San Francisco Earthquake. It was characterized by massive colorful Victorians, châteaux and mansions. Several foreign consulates are located in Pacific Heights, and the area's boutiques and nearby restaurants offer the finest cuisine and exclusive shopping on the West Coast. Peña’s children attended elite private schools near home.
Peña loved his daughter, Landra, above all other things in life. He had spoiled her for twelve years, and she adored him for it. His wife took great pride in her husband’s devotion to his children, even if he wasn’t completely faithful toward her. No security personnel were allowed inside the house unless an alarm sounded. This was their private twelve thousand square foot sanctuary. His driver parked in front in the center of the circular driveway and opened Peña’s door in the back. Peña entered the house alone through the massive front door onto a seemingly endless expanse of marble floors and went to the private master’s wing where his wife would be completing her glamour rituals. He would change into more formal clothes for the occasion. He didn’t worry about Blithe, Romanoff or anything to do with his business once inside his house. It was all about family. He had long-ago hidden enough wealth off-shore to