Terror Grips the Beach

by Steve McMillen

  As far as Lancaster is concerned, I’m not sure how to handle that. There was a lot going on in that cave and I almost died on that mountain. I’m not looking forward to climbing up there again, but I feel I owe it to Jake.

  *****

  I arrive 20 minutes late, and I can see TC pacing back and forth in front of the building as I pull up. He walks up to my vehicle and opens the door for me. “You must have run into traffic. You’re late.”

  With a grin on my face, and while shaking his hand, I reply, “Not really. I just forgot how long it takes to get down here.”

  He points toward the shuttle and says, “Jump on the shuttle. It will take us to the location.”

  He goes over everything that has happened so far on the trip to the site. I can tell he is upset. He has not mentioned Stephanie, but I can tell she is on his mind. I beat him to the punch. “So who could possibly have done this other than your friend Stephanie?”

  “She’s not my friend, and I thought about that, but how could she have possibly known about it? There was no press, no TV, no radio, not a thing about what we were doing.”

  “She could have been following you. She’s good. You would never have known.”

  I can tell the thought of that unsettles TC even more. He is quiet the rest of the ride to the site.

  We arrive at the site, and the students and advisers are all waiting at the drop-off location. The Hobcaw Barony supervisor has decided to take everyone back to the reception area until we are finished.

  TC leads me down to the site. Of course, the first thing I do is look out at the bay. The site is no more than 100 yards from the edge of the water. TC senses my thought process. “Yeah, it would be pretty easy to come in by boat, wouldn’t it?”

  “For someone with Stephanie’s background, it would be a piece of cake. But, you know what? She couldn’t do it alone. She would have needed help.”

  CHAPTER 54

  Stephanie Langchester is a very creative person. Her background in marine biology and six years with British Intelligence served her well. She has been following TC for more than a month, and the last two weeks from a rented boat out in the bay watching everyone work on shore. She bought a mannequin from Flamingo Porch Consignment in Murrells Inlet, dressed it up to look like a fisherman, and sat it in a chair at the back of the boat. She hooked up a fishing rod to the dummy; from shore, you could not tell the difference. Occasionally, she would walk over and pretend to talk to “Barney,” but most of the time she was watching the shore with binoculars from under the canopy.

  She was on her boat the day the word came to shut the project down. She watched everyone leave, for no apparent reason. After all were gone, she took the boat up to the shoreline, got out, and took pictures of the site. She returned to her long-term rental in Georgetown, not quite sure of her next move. After going back out in the bay the following two days and seeing no activity on shore, she began making a list of what she would need: two shovels, a pickaxe, heavy-duty canvas bags, a cart for moving her bounty to the boat, a six-foot stepladder, and a tent to cover the site.

  She considered hiring help but quickly decided against it. Too many cooks spoil the soup, and she would probably have to get rid of them in the end. Too many people have died already, so this time she would do it on her own. If something goes wrong, she will have no one to blame but herself.

  She spent the next two days watching from the boat and what she saw made her very happy: nothing, nothing at all. The site is empty. They have shut it down. It is time for a practice run. She takes the boat out the following evening on a fishing trip with Barney. She goes on shore, walks up to the site and never sees anyone. She does notice swarms of mosquitoes, so the next day she picks up repellant, gloves and a long-sleeve shirt.

  The following night, her adventure begins.

  CHAPTER 55

  TC and I decide to walk down to the bay. As we walk, I am looking down to see if I notice anything that might relate to a possible robbery. There had been quite a bit of rain in the area, hence the mud at the site. I notice what looks like two different sets of some kind of tire or cart tracks, one set without much depth and a second set that is fairly deep. The second set was hauling something heavy. I also noticed several footprints in the soft sandy soil not far from the water, as well as prints around the site itself. All of the footprints appear to be from the same person. I showed the tracks to TC. “TC, you see this set of tracks and footprints?”

  “Yes, I do. And your point is?”

  “That is your treasure being moved by Stephanie, or someone from the site on to a boat.”

  His eyes follow the tracks I am pointing to. “Damn, she robbed me again! First my boat and now the treasure!”

  “Yeah, but at least, you got your boat back.”

  He rolls his eyes at me. “So, what can we do?”

  There’s that we bit again. “TC, we can’t do anything unless you know where she went with the treasure, even if there was treasure. You don’t even know that for sure.”

  TC looks around and turns to go back up to the site. “Well, you said she was hauling something heavy, didn’t you? It wasn’t dirt because she left the dirt here. I think we should look in the hole and see what we can find.”

  We return to the site and look down into the six-foot hole. There is mud, some bones, an old, decayed wooden stepladder, and what’s left of some kind of a wooden box. I also notice something else. There are four fairly well-defined holes on each corner of the site. “TC, look. She had a tent over the site. She must have done this at night and didn’t want anyone to see her lights. She thought this through real well.”

  He looks at me and says, “So, who’s going down?”

  I don’t hesitate with my answer, “You are, my shoes are new.”

  He cautiously jumps down into the hole. Once there, he tries not to step on any of the bones. “TC, they’re dead.” I say. “Do what you have to do before someone comes down here and arrests us for grave robbing.”

  Looking up at me, he asks, “Do you have anything to dig with?”

  “No, but you do, your hands and fingers. Get on with it.”

  After a couple of minutes of digging around in the mud, he finds a small bag. The bag is made of fabric and has a drawstring. He carefully opens the bag and I see him pull out a small piece of paper.

  He reaches into the small bag and pulls out a gold ring and a small pearl necklace. He places everything back in the bag. I help him climb back out of the hole and he hands the bag to me.

  I take the bag and say, “So what’s in here? This is not from the 1700s.”

  He sits down in the grass and says, “Open it.”

  I open the bag and read the note. Didn’t want to take everything, TC, so I left you a couple of souvenirs. Tell Mickke D I can’t wait to see him again.

  I laugh. “Now there’s a woman with a huge set of balls.”

  TC is not laughing. He gets on his phone, calls Hobcaw, and asks them to send the shuttle back down to pick us up. He tells them that we are finished and the site is all theirs to do with whatever they wish. I ask him if he is going to tell them about the gift.

  “No way. That belongs to me. It’s not much, but it’s better than nothing.”

  Whatever happened to the we bit now? Oh well, you win some and you lose some.

  CHAPTER 56

  It takes Stephanie Langchester four nights of hard work to dig the hole and recover the buried treasure. She takes Barney out in the boat every day to see if there is any activity at the site before making her night run. Each night she covers the site with a small tent so if anyone happens to be close by, they would not see any illumination coming from the headlamp attached to her ball cap. When she comes across the first glimpse of gold and silver, she actually begins to cry, but the tears quickly turn to joy and laughter. She has finally found it. She cannot believe her eyes.

  Before making her final trip back to the boat with the last of the treasure, she laughs to herself a
nd decides to leave TC a small gift. Actually, she just wants him to know that she beat him to the treasure and to let Mickke D know she beat him as well.

  Back at her rental, she fills four large duffle bags with the bounty wrapped in bubble wrap to muffle any noise. She hires a large boat with a captain in Charleston and makes the trip to her final destination, Cancun. She changes her name, gets business cards made to show she is an antique dealer and collector, purchases a large home on a bluff overlooking the beach and builds a “safe room” in the basement where she keeps the treasure, selling it off little by little when she needs cash. Stephanie Langchester has finally retired.

  CHAPTER 57

  TC is depressed, but at least his search for the buried treasure is over. He can now move on to his next adventure, but I am still not sure in which direction I will be heading next, north or south.

  After several days of contemplating, I think it would be in my best interest and the safety of my friends that I make one last trip back to Colombia. I call my former commanding officer at Fort Bragg, Colonel Townsend. “Colonel T, it’s Mickke D.”

  “Mickke D, I should say how nice it is to hear from you, but every time you call, you seem to want something from me. What is it this time?”

  “Well, I have had two more attempts on my life courtesy of our Colombian friends, so I am planning one last trip to Bogotá. Before you say anything, I am not asking for a plane and a small army to go with me.”

  “I am certainly glad of that. I am still trying to explain our last trip, which of course never took place. So what do you need?”

  “I need some grenades and a couple of LAWs?”

  “How about an APC as well?” he counters.

  “No, I don’t think so, wouldn’t fit on the plane, but I could use a silencer for my M-16 and .45.

  After a couple seconds of silence, he says, “So you’re going in alone?”

  “Yeah, no sense putting anyone else in danger. They want me so they’re going to get me. Hopefully they’re going to wish they had left me alone.”

  “I understand. Let me look into it and I’ll get back to you. How soon do you need this?”

  “No rush, I haven’t got my ride finalized yet. Call me if you can make it work.”

  CHAPTER 58

  I know of quite a few pilots who can do what I need done, but not many who will do what I need done. My mind goes back to the pilot who flew us into Colombia last time. I ran into him again in Antigua, that time under not so good circumstances. He had told me he was thinking about buying a bar called Ricky’s Dockside in Little River. Now, every time I drive by, I wonder if he really did. I guess it’s time to find out.

  I pull in to Ricky’s Dockside around 4:00 that same afternoon. I remember the original sign said Bar & Grill, but it now reads, Saloon. I opt to leave my .45 in my vehicle and when I get to the entrance, I see that I made a wise decision. There’s a sign next to the door, “No Firearms, No Gang Colors, No Drugs.” Then I notice why the name is now Saloon. There is a set of swinging saloon doors on the front entrance. How cool is that?

  I walk inside and notice several pool tables and about 20 people, some playing pool and others enjoying an adult beverage. I look around and see my pilot Rick seated at the bar.

  He is staring into the mirror behind the bar and as I step inside, he says without turning, “Well, if it isn’t Mickke D. I was hoping you would stop by. Hope you read the sign on the door about no firearms.”

  The bar immediately goes silent. The pool players stop playing and the adult beverage partakers stop drinking and everyone turns to face me. They all have a look on their faces that lets me know they are either ex-military or ex-CIA like Rick. One of the more husky pool players looks at Rick and says, “Is this the guy you were telling us about?”

  Rick turns and with his usual big smile says, “Yeah, that’s him. Mickke D, what can I do for you?”

  I look around the room and think to myself, I hope they all read the sign on the door as well. “Can I talk to you outside?”

  “Absolutely.” He walks over, shakes my hand and leads me out through the old swinging saloon doors.

  “Love those doors, Rick.”

  “Yeah, everyone thinks they’re walking into an old wild West saloon. Now what can I do for you?”

  After sitting down in a couple of rocking chairs facing Highway 17, I ask, “Are you still doing that pilot thing?”

  “Not really, I sold the plane once I left the Bahamas and landed here. I used the money to buy the bar and a boat. I haven’t flown anything since. Why do you ask?”

  “Well, I need to make another trip to Bogotá and I’m looking for a ride.”

  “Why are you going back? Valdez is dead.”

  “I know, but someone from the Valdez cartel keeps trying to kill me. They have made two attempts on my life since I eliminated Valdez, one while I was in Antigua and another not too long ago at my house.”

  “Yeah, I remember that one in Antigua. We were flying over that one when it happened. Word is the wife and oldest son have taken over the reins of the cartel. If someone tried to take you out, the orders had to come from one of them.”

  “So you still have contacts in that part of the world?” I ask.

  He smiles. “Mickke D, I have contacts all over the world and so do most of the people in the bar right now.”

  After a slight pause while I try to digest that statement, I continue, “So would you be interested in a trip to Bogotá?”

  His smile disappears. “I just told you, I don’t have a plane anymore.”

  “That’s no problem. I’ll furnish the plane and pay you 10K for flying me there.

  “Who else is going? Is that Mark guy going? I don’t think he likes me.”

  “No, Mark isn’t going. It will just be you and me.”

  His smile disappears again, and his eyes widen. “Are you crazy? I’m just the pilot. That leaves you to do the dirty work.”

  “That’s right. All you have to do is fly the plane.”

  After a pause he asks, “When do you have to know?”

  “No rush. Here’s my card. Think about it and give me a call.”

  “Thanks.” Without saying anything more, he turns and goes back through those swinging doors and into the saloon. I notice the low roar of people talking and drinking suddenly becomes mute as Rick enters the building.

  *****

  I start to form a plan in my head. Since I did not get an absolute “no” from Rick, I figure my odds are at least 50-50 he will decide to go.

  When I get back to the house and after taking Blue for a walk, I begin to write down where I need to go, what I need to do, and how long it should take me to accomplish my task.

  Around 7:00, my phone rings. “Colonel T, do you have any good news for me?”

  “Mickke D, one of these days your extracurricular activities are going to cause me to lose my silver oak leaves. I hope it’s not this time. I can get you three LAWS, six grenades, and the silencers you asked for. Where can we meet? Whatever you do, make it a private location. I don’t need to get arrested for arms peddling.”

  “Thanks, but I still haven’t sewed up my ride yet. I should know soon. I’ll call you back one way or the other and again, thank you.”

  I go to bed early but I don’t get a lot of sleep because I keep going over in my mind what happened on my last trip to Bogotá. I wonder if everything is the same as it was that time, or if they improved their security around the compound. I guess I’ll find out when and if I get there.

  Blue wakes me up around 7 a.m. the following morning wanting to go out, and all of a sudden, today I feel more like a soldier than a civilian. My normally mellow demons are beginning to awaken in my belly. I know the feeling, and it is not a good one.

  CHAPTER 59

  Early Saturday morning, two days after making my appeal to Rick, he calls me back. “Can you come down to the bar around ten this morning?”

  “I’ll be there,” I quickly
reply.

  I arrive about 9:50 and notice three vehicles parked outside the bar. I remember the sign on the door said hours were 11:00 until closing on Saturdays. I’m getting that itchy feeling which seems to go with my soldier mood lately but if I were being set up, I doubt if it would be this obvious.

  After a short debate with myself, I take my weapon with me, and walk up to the old swinging saloon doors. I carefully push the doors open and walk in. Rick and two other gentlemen are seated at one of the tables in the room.

  “Come on in, Mickke D. I want you to meet a couple of friends of mine. This is Harley and this is Bos.”

  I shake their hands and notice both men as well as Rick are also carrying. Rick grins. “The sign only pertains to business hours. I’ve decided to take you up on your offer to fly you to Bogotá, and since Harley and Bos don’t like what the Valdez cartel does anymore than you and I, they would like to come along and help you out.”

  I look closely at Harley and Bos. Both are probably in their mid-50s and look like they’re in pretty good shape although Bos is short in the hair department. “Gentlemen, what are your backgrounds?”

  Harley answers first. “Retired Army Ranger.”

  Bos responds, “Retired CIA. What is your background?”

  I know they already know the answer, but I answer anyway, “Special Forces.”

  With a very benign look, Harley quickly retorts, “No problem, we won’t hold that against you.”

  I give them a half-ass smile as Rick looks at me and begins the conversation. “Harley and Bos want 5K each and we all want our money up front. You provide the plane, and Harley and Bos will provide their own weapons. We fly in, do the job and get out. By the way, what are you planning on doing once we get there?”