by Stuart Woods
“I’ve never seen Ham’s place,” Doug said. “I hear it’s nice.”
“It sure is. My former boss left it to him.” She took a left and drove over the North Bridge, then turned left onto the little dirt road that led to Ham’s island.
“Don’t park too close to the house,” Doug said. “That bug’s still in place, and I don’t want them to hear car doors slamming.”
Holly parked well away, then led Doug to the house, opening the door with her key. She used a flashlight instead of turning on the lights, walking softly around the place. Everything seemed to be in order, except that Ham was not there. She motioned Doug outside.
“You think he hasn’t been back here tonight?” Doug asked.
“That’s what I think.”
“Maybe they asked him to stay for dinner, and he couldn’t say no.”
“I hope that’s what happened,” Holly said. “Come on, let’s get back to your place. Maybe he’s turned up.”
They arrived back at the house to find Harry and Eddie sitting beside the radio.
“NSA has just downloaded today’s transmissions,” Harry said.
“What are they saying?”
“Pretty dull stuff—a Bible class, kind of twisted, and a discussion group about race.”
The men on the recording were making wrapping-up sounds, moving away from the bug. There was a moment’s silence, then, suddenly, Ham’s voice came through.
They sat, transfixed, listening to his short report.
“Holy shit,” Harry said. “We could have missed it. I’m going to get word to NSA that we want everything in real time from now on.”
“I’m going to take him the phone,” Holly said.
“No, Doug will do it,” Harry replied. “I don’t want you at risk.”
“Fuck the risk,” Holly said. “Ham needs a way to communicate, and I’m taking him the phone. Now, do you have a large-scale map of the place?”
“Yes,” Harry said, spreading it out on the table.
“What about aerial photographs?”
“Eddie, get the sat shots.”
Eddie came back with some surprisingly detailed photographs.
“Why haven’t I seen these before?” Holly asked.
“They arrived today, with the phones.”
“Okay, there’s a dock on the lakeshore here, about what, two or three miles from the compound.”
“Looks like that. Where are we going to get a boat this time of night?”
“Ham’s got an aluminum dinghy,” Holly said, “and one of those little trolling motors that runs on a car battery.”
“Where is it?”
Doug spoke up. “It’s lying next to Ham’s house,” he said. “I saw it when we were out there.”
“You’ve got a pickup, Doug,” Harry said. “Go get it and bring it back here, and don’t forget the motor and some oars.”
“Be back shortly,” Doug said, then left.
“Ham’s battery will be on a trickle charger, but I want a spare, just in case,” Holly said. “We’ll cannibalize one of your cars.”
“Okay with me,” Harry replied.
Holly looked at the sat shots again. “This must be the barracks,” she said. “It’s the only thing that fits the description. Eddie, show me the phone.”
Eddie left and came back with half a dozen tiny phones in a cardboard box. “They’re Motorola V-phones,” he said, “that have been modified to scramble.” He showed her how the phone worked, while Holly began composing a note to Ham.
“He’s going to need some extra batteries,” she said.
“I’ve got some in the charger. They’re small, but they’re good for eighty minutes of talk time each, and about twenty-four hours of standby.”
“Can he take a call without the phone ringing?”
“It has a vibrate mode. You can’t hear it, but you can feel it if it’s clipped to your belt or in your pocket.”
“Show me.” She wrote down the instructions for Ham.
“Do we know whether there’s even cell phone service out there?” Holly asked.
“I don’t know,” Harry said. “We’ll try it when we get out there, and if there’s no service, I can have a portable cell transmitter and antenna in here by tomorrow morning that has a range of about five miles. It’ll be on a van, and we can park it as close as possible.”
“Good,” Holly said. She looked at the sat shot. “This looks like a grass landing strip,” she said.
“I agree,” Harry replied. “Might come in useful before this is over.”
Doug came back with the boat, and they loaded it into the pickup.
“Eddie,” Harry said, “you stay here and monitor the bug in the compound. Call us on the scrambled phone if anything important happens.”
“Will do,” Eddie replied.
“Let’s get out of here,” Holly said, and got into the truck.
Forty-seven
HAM HAD DINNER AT THE TABLE WITH JOHN AND Peck. A pecking order seemed to have been established in the compound, and he figured, from the seating arrangements, that he was pretty near the top of it.
“Peck,” John said, “you think you can find a bed for Ham in one of the houses?”
“Sure,” Peck replied.
Ham raised a hand. “Listen, guys, I appreciate the thought, but I’m real comfortable in the bunkhouse. I’ve spent a big chunk of my life in barracks, and I like it.” This was an outright lie. He’d spent as few nights in barracks as possible, and he didn’t care if he ever spent another one there, but he had to be on the lakeshore when his people showed up with the phone, as he had no doubt they would do.
“Whatever you say, Ham,” John replied. “As long as you’re comfortable. If you change your mind, let me know.”
“Okay,” Ham said.
Harry, Holly and Doug, in the pickup truck, worked hard with the large-scale map and a flashlight to find a way to the eastern shore of Lake Winachobee. The dock didn’t seem to have a real road leading to it, and they had been picking their way along overgrown lanes for more than two hours.
“The hell with the dock,” Holly said. “It’s after midnight, and we can launch the dinghy from the shore. I don’t mind getting your feet wet.”
“Thanks,” Harry said.
“Just drive west until we end up in the lake,” she said.
“I’m doing the best I can, Holly.”
“There,” she said, pointing to an opening that appeared in the headlight beams. “That track looks like a car might have once driven down it, and it’s headed in the right direction.”
Harry turned down it, and a deer ran across the road, nearly striking the truck. “That’s all I need,” he said.
Then the track opened into a clearing, and the starlight glinted on water.
“There!” Holly nearly shouted. “Douse the headlights.”
Harry switched them off and stopped the truck. They sat and waited for their eyes to become accustomed to the darkness.
“Thank God there’s no moon tonight,” Harry said.
“Not yet, anyway,” Doug replied. “We should have checked an almanac.”
“Come on,” Holly said, “let’s get the boat into the water.”
They got out and heaved the lightweight dinghy off the truck and to the lakeshore. Holly took off her shoes and rolled up her jeans. “Hand me the motor.” She accepted it from Doug and clamped it to the stern of the dinghy. “You can handle the batteries,” she said. “Put them side by side.” She climbed into the dinghy.
Doug placed the batteries in the bottom of the boat and fixed the alligator clips to the terminals of one. “There you go,” he said. “Are you sure you don’t want company?”
“I can handle it alone.”
“Look across there,” Harry said, pointing. “The house with all the lights must be Peck’s place. The barracks has to be farther along the shore to your left. I’d stay away from it, just use it as a landmark.”
Harry suddenly gra
bbed at his belt. “My phone’s ringing.” He opened it. “Yeah?” He listened for a moment, then hung up. “Eddie says they’ve just broken up for the evening. The main house seems to be emptying out.”
“How far do you reckon it is?” Holly asked.
“Three, maybe four miles, I’d guess. I think we’re south of the putative dock.”
Ham left Peck’s house with four other men who were also quartered in the bunkhouse. None of them was over thirty, and they were talking excitedly about the group and their part in it. They reached the bunkhouse and began to unpack their things, placing their clothes in lockers. Ham took his time; he wanted them all asleep before him. With that in mind, he wrapped a towel around himself, went into the heads and took a long, hot shower.
When he came out, two of the boys were still talking quietly, but soon they drifted off, and the barracks was quiet. Ham checked his watch and waited for another hour before he made a move. He got silently out of bed, took a blanket and a pillow from the empty bunk next to his and walked quietly out the lakeside door. Once outside, he stopped and listened for a full two minutes to see if anyone was stirring inside the bunkhouse or outside. Hearing nothing, he made his way across a neatly trimmed lawn toward the lake. Once there, he stopped and listened again. His watch showed nearly half-past two in the morning.
Holly sat in the bottom of the dinghy, the motor humming quietly behind her, only her head and shoulders above the boat’s gunwales. Peck’s house had only one light now, and it appeared to be an outdoor lamp that stayed on all night. This was good, since it gave her a landmark. Then, as she made her way slowly across the lake, the moon began to rise, and this was not good. It was nearly three-quarters full, and it gave a lot more light than Holly needed or wanted. She reckoned she was a mile from shore now, and remembering that even small sounds carried across water, she switched off the little motor and let the boat drift. Then she made her way forward to the stem, knelt down and began paddling with an oar, using a J-stroke, the way she had been taught at Girl Scout camp, so that she wouldn’t have to lift it from the water.
Ham hadn’t noticed the motor until it was turned off, but when it went quiet, he knew what the sound had been. The moon was rising, and he didn’t like that at all. He walked back to the bunkhouse and stuck his head inside the door. Four lumps lay inert in the bunks, one of them snoring softly. He went back to the lakeshore and, bothered by the moon, lay down on the blanket. He didn’t want to be spotted in the moonlight.
Holly could see the dark outline of the bunkhouse, and she made for it, resisting the urge to paddle faster. Then, as she approached the shore from fifty yards out, two things happened. Ham, who had apparently been lying down, stood up.
Then a light went on in the bunkhouse.
Forty-eight
HAM HUNKERED DOWN UNDER HIS BLANKET AND pretended to be asleep. The light had alarmed him; he didn’t know who might be behind him. Then he heard a screen door shut and someone walking across the lawn toward him.
“Ham?”
“Huh?” he grunted. He turned over and found one of his four bunkhouse mates, a kid named Jimmy, standing over him. “What’s up?” he asked sleepily.
“There’s a boat out there, about fifty yards away,” Jimmy said.
Ham sat up on an elbow and looked toward the dinghy, which appeared to be empty. “Just somebody’s dinghy came untied,” he said grumpily. “Why the hell did you wake me up? I came out here to get away from the snoring, and now I’ve got you making noise. And why is that light on in the bunkhouse?”
“Sorry, Ham, I didn’t know you were sleeping.” He started toward the edge of the water. “I’m going to swim out there and check out that boat.”
“Hold it right there,” Ham said, and he brought authority into his voice.
Jimmy stopped, turned and looked at him.
“You have any idea what the cottonmouth moccasin count is in that lake? There must be thousands, and don’t even think about the alligators. They feed at night, you know.”
“I didn’t think of that,” Jimmy said uncertainly.
“You get your ass back into that bunkhouse and into bed, and don’t you fucking wake me up again.”
“I’m sorry, Ham. I—”
“Just get back in there. If the boat is still there in the morning, I’ll check it out.”
“Okay, if you say so. Good night.”
“It better be.”
Jimmy walked back to the bunkhouse, switched off the light and, apparently, went back to bed.
Ham lay on his side, staring at the boat. He lay that way for better than half an hour, then he saw a movement in the boat, and a figure sat up. There, in the moonlight, was Holly.
“Oh, shit,” Ham said aloud.
Holly was on one of the boat’s seats now.
Ham stood up and waved her off. “Get out of here,” he whispered loudly. “Go on, get out.” He hoped his voice would carry over the water. Then he saw her arm go back, and she threw something. It arced high, then fell into the water, about ten yards out. Ham immediately marked the spot, taking a reference line from the corner of the bunkhouse through the spot where he stood. He bent down, found a good-sized rock and marked his position with it.
“Get out of here,” he whispered hoarsely, waving her off.
She moved forward in the dinghy again, keeping low, and slowly, the dinghy turned and started moving toward the eastern shore of the lake.
Ham lay down again and pulled the blanket over himself.
When he woke up, the sun was rising and he was sore all over. It had been a long time since he had slept on the ground, and it didn’t agree with his aging bones. He stood up and looked out at the lake. The dinghy was gone, to his relief, and a northerly breeze had sprung up. He heard a door behind him slam.
“You awake?” Jimmy called out.
“Yeah.”
Jimmy came down to the water’s edge and stood beside Ham. “What happened to the dinghy?”
“A breeze came up during the night,” Ham replied. “I guess it blew away.”
“Was there anything fishy about it?”
“Nah, it was just an empty dinghy. Somebody didn’t tie it up good, I guess.”
“I guess. You want some breakfast?”
“In a minute; I’m just enjoying the sunrise.” Jimmy left him there, and Ham kept looking out at the lake. He saw Holly paddle away.
Holly and Harry stopped at a roadside restaurant west of Orchid Beach and were having breakfast.
“How the hell is Ham going to get the phone, if you threw it in the lake?” Harry asked.
“I didn’t throw it in the lake on purpose, Harry,” Holly replied. “I was in an awkward position in the dinghy, and it didn’t go as far as it was supposed to. Don’t worry, Ham will get it. I saw him mark the position, and it won’t be hard to find. The water’s probably only three or four feet deep there.”
“You almost got your ass caught, didn’t you?”
“No, I didn’t. Somebody in the barracks woke up and came outside. Ham dealt with it. I waited until he was back inside for half an hour before I got out of there. And the wind helped me get back.”
“You know how much that telephone cost?” Harry demanded.
“No, and neither do you, Harry. Now get off my back and eat your breakfast.”
Harry took out his new, scrambled cell phone and called the house. “What’s up?” he asked, when Eddie answered.
“Nothing all night. I guess they slept soundly. There are people in the house now, so I guess they’re having breakfast.”
“We’ll be back in an hour or so.” Harry punched off and turned to Holly. “You’re sure the phone won’t get wet?”
“Harry, it was in a sealed plastic bag. Now shut up about it and eat your breakfast.”
“I don’t suppose you thought to check the signal strength on the phone.”
“I did, and it was dodgy—only two bars on the display.”
Harry opened his cell p
hone again, called his office in Miami and ordered that a portable cell be set up as near as possible to the north shore of Lake Winachobee.
Holly felt awful about throwing the phone short, but she wasn’t about to let Harry know it. She hoped to hell Ham could recover it.
Forty-nine
HAM STOOD AT ONE END OF THE AIRSTRIP AND watched through the sights of the Barrett’s rifle as a jeep towed a nearly wrecked car across the opposite end, four thousand feet away. The car was moving at about twenty miles an hour, he reckoned.
He led the car a yard and squeezed off the round. A large hole appeared in a rear door of the car. “Do it again,” he said to Peck, who was standing beside him. “And I want to know how fast he’s moving.”
Peck spoke his instructions into a handheld radio, then he turned to Ham. “He says he was doing about fifteen miles an hour.”
“Tell him to speed it up to twenty-five this time,” Ham replied. “Nobody drives that slow on purpose.”
Peck relayed the instructions, and the jeep turned around and started another pass, this time faster.
Ham fired again, and the glass in the front passenger door shattered.
“Right on!” Peck yelled.
“Yeah, but do you want me to hit the driver?”
“No, we want the rear-seat passengers.”
“Of course, the explosive round will take out pretty much everybody in the car.”
“Still, I’d like you to be able to hit the rear-door window every time,” Peck said.
“Turn him around, and maintain that speed.”
Ham fired the big rifle until they had to stop and let the barrel cool off.
At lunchtime, Ham was sitting with Peck when John came into the dining room.
“Productive morning?” Peck asked.
“Pretty good,” John replied. He produced a cell phone and switched it on. “Tell me something,” he said, “what kind of cell phone signal strength do you get out here?”