by Frank Perry
Ann’s to be closer to San Francisco. He still didn’t have a precise plan. Most of it depended on things out of his control.
The late afternoon sky was painted a dozen shades of grey as dense rain clouds rolled in from the coast. San Francisco was cold and wet, and he drove into the worst weather half way to San Jose. For no logical reason, the weather gave him a sense of security. There was no reason for it given the kind of people he was dealing with. It probably went back to his Navy training where stormy weather helped obscure night operations. It didn’t matter. He was rested and had his equipment. He just needed to stop for something to eat, then on to Sue Ann’s apartment.
After passing through a Jack-in-the-Box drive through, he cruised into San Jose after dark in a heavy squall. It was difficult to recon the parking lot in the deluge, but the risk was low that Peña would station men outside a dead girl’s apartment for days on end. He had no reason to expect Hunter or anyone else associated with the Kohl family to show up there. He parked in front again and unloaded his heavy equipment case and his travel bag at her door, then parked in the nearest space, running back through standing water.
Inside, he closed the blinds and turned on some lights, thankful that Uncle Bob hadn’t removed Sue Ann’s computer yet. Everything looked exactly as she left it. Hunter started her computer. He had not told John (Fleming) about the tracker’s on Peña’s ships. He might have heard it from the FBI, but they didn’t seem interested, and John never mentioned it. Once on line, he confirmed that Ocean Queen and Wanderer were both in port. Sea Fury was off the Central American Coastline.
At the Embarcadero, Peña stayed late in his office. Roxanne had stayed with him after the doors were locked for “dictation” until six-thirty, then he called Ramon and Pete Korb for a meeting. Ocean Queen didn’t need to go to sea for any particular reason and Korb had proven to be trustworthy. When the men arrived, Peña broke out a bottle of Scotch whiskey that neither of the other two cared for, but they all shared some glasses. Peña said. “Mi Amigos, our future is in jeopardy. If certain laws are passed in Washington, my business, our business, is ruined.”
Ramon just grunted and kept silent. Korb said. “What can we do, boss?”
“I have a friend in Congress that will try to get it delayed. In the meantime, we need to get rid of this Kohl person who is not following my instructions. He has hidden his family to protect them, but I will find them. When I do”...he just looked at Ramon who smiled.
While they were talking, Peña’s phone buzzed. He looked at the display and signaled the others to fill their glasses again. “Hello, Senator.”
There was a long pause, then Peña continued. So, this cop, Inspector Richards, he’s asking you questions?” Peña listened to another long monolog. “I see, Senator. What are the chances for a delay?” Both other men listening to this side of the conversation knew not to be inquisitive. “Alright, Senator. You don’t worry about him...yes, yes, it will be taken care of...goodbye, Senator.”
He clicked the phone off and took a long drink of Scotch. Addressing the two across his desk, “Men, we have some good news, and some other good news.”
Korb said, “What is it, Luca?”
“My friend in Washington thinks the bill will be delayed and rewritten, and he can get the language out.” They stared at him, knowing nothing about legislative jargon. “But, there is just one little problem.”
They both sat back looking at him in silence, as he continued with a wry smile. “There is this Investigator in Sacramento that has started asking questions about my friend. They are the kind of questions that cops ask when they build a case. I know this name. I have his picture with Rivera’s wife. He’s their friend in Sacramento. His name is John Richards.”
Korb asked, “You want him gone, boss?”
Peña didn’t answer immediately. He just stared at his glass and swirled the whiskey. “I have another plan.”
Fifty miles south, Hunter set up the apartment security as before then decided to sleep for a while. He wasn’t as tired as before the flight, but he wanted to get an early start in the morning, before dawn, and it could be a long day.
It was still dark in the morning when his cellphone rang. “Hello?”
“Hunter, it’s Leigh.” Her voice was surprisingly energetic, but then he realized she was three hours ahead on the east coast.
He ruffled his hair and sat up. “Oh. Hi, Leigh.”
She resonded. “You sound like you just got up. What’s this? You slacking off on gym time?”
“I’m not in Washington, Leigh.”
“Oh, that explains it. Look, something has happened.”
She had his attention. “Tell me.”
“The SAC is having difficulty agreeing on the whole package. They’re out of time, and the staff is madly drafting a continuing resolution.”
“Oh, great. They did it last year. How much time are they buying?”
“It looks like through first Quarter.” This would mean that the Government would continue to pay mandatory bills through December in the hopes that a complete Appropriations Bill could be signed by the President by then.
“Any chance that the CR would have the legalization language?”
“No. The CR is a bland bill. It just sets continuation spending levels for prior multi-year programs and entitlements. It could hurt us in a couple ways. If certain programs that were to be cut continue under the CR, it makes it even harder to add new initiatives for the shorter remaining year after the CR expires. It also gets beyond the elections in November, and people like Blithe and Romanoff are no longer sweating results, one way or the other.”
“Oh. Why is this happening?”
“Welcome to Washington, kid.”
“What should I do, Leigh?”
“Just watch on the sidelines, Hunter. If it makes you feel better, call Brian Collie to get the latest, but don’t expect any miracles. The Congress has been so dysfunctional on both sides of the Hill that CRs are a way of life. It should never happen. They should have the spending bills out by June and start working ahead for next year. Instead, the do-nothings can’t get the job done for the past few years, and this is what we get.”
He just shook his head. He had other problems to solve right now and needed to neglect his “real job” for a few days. It wouldn’t make any difference. Peña was winning again.
Hunter called John, who answered much, as Hunter had. “You sound asleep?”
John responded. Yeah. Well it’s...four-thirty.”
“You’re on the west coast again?”
“I live on the west coast, Hunter.”
“Look, John, I’m sorry. I thought you’d still be in DC enjoying that excessively gilded office of yours.”
“Yeah, it’s nice, isn’t it? I get to visit it once or twice a year. So, what’s up?”
“You hear that the Congress is stalled and heading for a CR?”
“Yeah. I think our friendly Senator is stirring the pot, maybe Romanoff also.”
“John, that just means that Claire and Laura are in danger longer. Our Kingfish friend will try harder to get them, to get to me.”
John sounded frustrated. “Hang in there, Hunter. I’m trying to get the Senator out of the way, maybe even this week. Don’t know if it’ll make a difference, but it’s all I can do.”
John asked, “Where are you?”
“I’d rather not tell you right now, but I’ll be it touch soon.”
He hung up to avoid complicating John’s life. He was right. There wasn’t much anyone could do if the Congress didn’t act.
For the next three days, he monitored Fury’s progress. The ship followed the same course as Wanderer. When it was about a day out from Los Angeles, Hunter loaded some of his gear in the car and drove south. He left in the early morning when the coastal fog was still blanketing the highway. The temperature in the Bay Area wasn’t supposed to get much above fi
fty. He knew that Fury wouldn’t dock until after dark, late enough for government inspectors to have gone home. This time, he would reconnoiter the dock and avoid the kind of confrontation from his last visit. He was hopeful that they would use the same berthing scheme to off-load.
Peña was in the office early, before Roxanne arrived. There was a blinking red light on his phone and a message to call Number One.
“What’s going on, One?”
“Your man (Hunter) is not in his apartment. Number Two and Three are gone, too.”
Peña wasn’t interested in details. “So, find him!”
“I went to the girl’s address, too. It looks like she’s been gone for a couple days, according to her neighbors. Maybe they skipped town together.”
“Look, this guy can’t stay invisible forever. You find him and earn your pay.”
“Look, Mr. Peña, we provide the highest quality professional service. Don’t pretend to order us around like your own people.”
“I’ll order you around any way I want. You lowlife scum are far away from being professionals. Now just do as you’re told or I’ll find someone else who can. Sounds like you need some replacements. Get better people this time.”
“Number Two and Three are the best, I don’t want you disparaging them.”
“Fuck you. You guys have disappointed me too many times. Just find the mark and get it done!”
He slammed the phone down.
Hunter got to the San Pedro dock area after dusk. The days were getting shorter. Even though the