PMadriani 12.5 - The Second Man

by Steve Martini

  “Passed the sign a hundred times,” says Harry. “It’s up off 101 somewhere north of San Luis Obispo.”

  “Isn’t that Camp Roberts?” said Herman.

  “As I recall, they’re a few miles apart,” I tell them. “Nothing else there. A lot of open country, away from the coast.”

  “You’re thinking that’s where they are?” says Herman.

  “You sure the place is still open?” asks Harry. “I thought it got caught up in the base closures a few years back and was shut down.”

  I type in “Fort Hunter Liggett, California.” Sure enough, at the top of the list is an official Army website. I open it. “It shows as an active training site according to this. A hundred and sixty-five thousand acres. The only dirt landing strip for C-17s in the US. IED training, as well as training for allied nations. I’d say they’re open for business.”

  “What makes you think they’re there?” says Harry.

  “Because Akers used it to lure Joselyn away the night at the Brigantine. It’s where they developed some of the early drones. From what I gather, they’re still using some of the facilities. To Joselyn, that’s like shooting her up with meth. Tell her there’s classified military weaponry on display, something the Gideon Foundation hasn’t yet seen, and that you can get her into the show. Akers becomes the Pied Piper.”

  “I think you got a hard-on for this guy,” says Herman.

  “I admit I don’t like him.”

  “I wouldn’t either if I thought he was out there somewhere with my woman,” says Herman. “Sorry I said that. I’m even sorrier I brought him by the office.”

  “Too late now,” says Harry.

  Herman looks at him, and says: “Paul’s taking it better than you are. You’d think it was your better half.”

  “I’m my own better half,” says Harry.

  “How far away is this place?” says Herman.

  I check the mileage on Google maps. “If we leave now, we could be there late tonight,” I tell him. “Says six and a half hours from San Diego to Hunter Liggett.”

  “Is there some way to make a phone call?” says Harry. “Save yourself a trip. Somebody we can call, to see if they’re there?”

  “Who?” I ask.

  “I don’t know,” he says.

  I look at the website again. There is a general information number. I call it. When they pick up, I ask the male military voice on the other end whether he can tell me if a former Navy SEAL by the name of Cameron Akers has checked in on the base. He tells me to hold a second. When he comes back he wants to know who’s calling. I lie. I identify myself and tell him I’m Akers’s lawyer and that I need to talk to him. He tells me that no one by that name shows up on the current roster. He says they don’t get the morning roster ’til later in the day.

  I think for a moment, then I tell him. “He’s meeting with some researchers. They’re working on a drone system up there. . . .”

  “Oh, yeah. Those guys are over at the heliport. I can connect you.”

  I look at Harry and smile. A few seconds later, I hear the call as it is ringing through. It’s answered by a PFC. I don’t catch his last name. I run Akers’s name by him.

  “Nobody here by that name,” he says. “But he might be outside.”

  “Can you check for me?”

  “Sorry, I can’t leave the desk,” he says. “I can take a message. If he shows up, I’ll give it to him.”

  I think for a moment. Then I tell him I’ll call back later. Akers is not likely to return a call based on a message from me. And if he finds out I’ve located them, he’s likely to come up with some other lure to take Joselyn on another adventure.”

  “Are they there?” says Harry.

  “I think so. Can’t be sure,” I tell him. “But given what I know, if I had to guess, I’d say yes. Can you hold down the fort?” I ask Harry.

  “Would it matter if I said no?”

  “No,” I tell him.

  “Get the hell out of here.” He smiles. “Go find her. We all know you’re not going to be worth a damn until you do.”

  I grab my coat. Herman gets his. One of the secretaries asks where we’re going as we race for the exit.

  “Talk to Harry,” I tell her.

  “When you gonna be back?” Harry yells from the library.

  “Tomorrow!” I tell him. Herman and I are out the door before Harry can ask any more questions. We get to the parking area behind the building. I head for my sedan.

  “You wanna drive?” says Herman.

  “Thought I would.”

  “Then gimme a sec. Gotta get something out of my car.”

  It was a good thing I didn’t bring the old Jeep today. Herman heads to his Buick. He pops the trunk and fishes around for something inside. When his hands come out, he’s holding a pistol in his right hand, what I know to be his compact .45 auto. As he moves toward my car, I see him check the loaded clip. He slides it into the grip of the pistol and slaps it home. He doesn’t pull the slide to chamber the first round. Herman is careful with firearms.

  When he gets into the car, I ask him: “Do you really think we’re gonna need that?”

  “You never know. But better me than you” he says. “Feeling the way you do, you’d probably empty the clip into Akers the second he says hello.”

  Chapter 14

  JOANNA BOGGS STOOD at her kitchen sink, doing the dishes and looking out the window at Allyson Akers’s backyard. She hadn’t seen hide nor hair of her neighbor or her children in three days. She was beginning to worry, wondering where they were or why they hadn’t come home or at least called.

  She looked down for a moment at the dishes in the sink, looked up, and said: “What in the world?” She reached up with a wet hand and flexed the venetian blinds to get a better look. Boggs thought she glimpsed something moving in the yard next door. Whatever it was had disappeared down below the bushes that ran along the other side of the fence separating Boggs’s property from Allyson’s backyard.

  She watched for a few seconds, then realized that she wasn’t imagining things. Some of the low branches on one of the bushes were moving. She glanced down to rinse some suds off a plate, and when she looked back up, there it was, standing in the middle of the yard, scratching its paws on the grass as if it had just taken a dump.

  “Gypsy!” Maybe they came home, thought Boggs.

  The small ball of fuzz was perched on four tiny legs that moved with the speed of bristles on a sonic toothbrush. Before Boggs could dry her hands and head for the door, the mutt had disappeared through the doggie hatch and back inside Allyson Akers’s house.

  Boggs was anxious to find out where they’d been. She headed out her front door, across the lawn onto Akers’ porch, and rang the doorbell. She waited, but there was no answer. She rang it again. Still nothing. She tried to peek through one of the windows but couldn’t see anything. It was dark inside. The afternoon sun was hitting the front of the house, creating glare on the glass.

  She went out through the front gate, turned, and looked back at the house. She walked up the driveway and tried the garage door. It was locked. They never locked the garage door when they were home. But if they hadn’t come home, what was the dog doing in the house? Something was wrong. Boggs knew it.

  If Allyson and the kids had gone away overnight, they would have either taken the dog with them or asked Joanna to watch it. Gypsy was a pound pup. The two kids had fallen in love the minute they laid eyes on her. Allyson had no idea as to its breed or the precise pollution of its gene pool. She called it a “rat-terrier,” saying it was a cross between the two.

  Boggs walked along the side of the garage, unlatched the chain-link gate that led to the backyard, and closed it behind her. She tried the back door, but it was locked. She looked through the glass window that formed the top panel of the door. This looked in on the service porch. She could see through to the open kitchen door, but there was no one there.

  She bent over and pushed the neoprene flap
that sealed the doggie door until it opened a little. She held it there. “Heeere, Gypsy, come on. Come see Joanna. Come see Grandma.” She made some kissing sounds, rattled the door, and waited, then did it again.

  After a few more seconds, a blond, furry ball showed up at the opening. Its delicate pink tongue darted through the wild bouffant of fur that covered its entire body. The dog’s tongue licked Boggs’s fingers with all the fury of a butterfly having an orgasm. Joanna reached inside, scooped the animal up in one hand, and straightened herself up. “What are you doing here all alone?”

  She cradled the small mop of wiggling hair close to her bosom and continued talking to it as if the animal might talk back. “Did they abandon you? We’re gonna have to talk to them when they get back, huh? Yes, we are.”

  She continued to clutch the dog as she took another look through the glass in the top of the door. She saw nothing out of the ordinary, except one thing. An old washing machine, dented and peppered with pits of rust stood against the wall. On top of it was a pile of dirty clothes waiting to be washed.

  The open wicker hamper was empty, as if Allyson had been called away in the middle of her chores. Maybe they left in a hurry, she thought. Perhaps a family emergency.

  “How’s my baby?” She looked back at the dog. “I think you need some food. You come with me.”

  She headed through the side gate around the front, across the lawn, and back to her own house. Boggs didn’t put the dog down until she closed and locked the front door behind her. She went into the kitchen, grabbed a large handful of kibble from a bag in the cupboard under the sink, put it in a small bowl, and placed the bowl on the kitchen floor.

  Before she could turn to get some cheese to put on top of the kibble, she heard the crunching as the dog’s tiny teeth went to work gnawing at the contents in the bowl. This wasn’t like Gypsy. Usually, you had to force-feed her. Joanna realized that the animal hadn’t eaten in days.

  She wasn’t sure what to do. But she knew something was wrong. She couldn’t call the police. What could she tell them? Dog abandonment. First-degree dirty clothes. They’d think she was crazy. She put a little mild grated cheddar on top of the kibble and watched the dog as it chowed down, devouring the soft cheese. She filled another bowl with water and put it on the floor next to the food.

  As she stood up to put the cheese back in the fridge, Boggs saw the business card on the counter where she had left it earlier that morning. She picked it up and looked at the name—Paul Madriani. They had at least shown interest, the two men, the lawyer and his much larger African-American friend. She thought about it, then laid the card back down on the countertop. If she overreacted and did something foolish, Allyson might get angry. Joanna could lose a friend or worse, contact with the children she loved. That would be stupid. She glanced down at the dog. The cheese on top was gone, as was most of the kibble. If Gypsy kept eating like this, she would consume half her body weight. She watched the dog for a few minutes. It started acting really strange. It wouldn’t settle down. It scratched at the back door, then went to the front door and did the same. She figured it needed to relieve itself. She opened the backdoor and let the dog out. What happened next sent her into a tither.

  Chapter 15

  HERMAN AND I seem to skim up over the Grapevine, into the Tehachapis, and on toward the Central Valley. Herman has convinced me that taking I-5 and cutting west near Bakersfield will save time. If speed is any indication, he is right. My gaze constantly checking on the rearview mirror, I set the cruise control at seventy-five and settle in.

  Comfort comes in the form of other cars passing us like shooting stars. It’s the opposite of swimming with sharks. I don’t have to be the slowest one on the road, just slower than you. Sure enough, a few miles on we pass one of these galactic starships. It is stopped at the side of the road, a black-and-white with its colored flashing strobes parked behind him, the cop at the driver’s side window taking his pledge to help retire the state debt.

  According to Herman, we are about an hour south of the turnoff, the connector to 101. He keeps checking the GPS on his spanking-new cell phone. He tells me the cell signal keeps cutting in and out as we traverse the mountain pass. For the moment, he has three bars. “Where do you think they might be staying, assuming they’re in the area?” Herman is talking about Joselyn and Akers.

  I have grappled with the abstractions of whereabouts and well-being, where she is, and whether she’s all right. I have tried to corral any other anxieties. Call it denial, a defense mechanism. Any angst beyond the immediate will have to struggle for existence in that subterranean part of my brain where ancient reptilian roots have expelled reason. Even at my most paranoid, I have difficulty imagining Joselyn sleeping with him. I tell myself this. The question is do I believe it? I do my best. I try to soar above the yawning chasm of distrust, only to find myself sucked into downdrafts of doubt. The question is, do we ever really know anyone? We all like to think so. The raw nerve begins to throb.

  “There’s not much there,” says Herman.

  For a second, I think he’s reading my mind, until he says: “Not many places to stay until you go north to King City about a half hour farther up the road. Except there’s one,” he says. “Place called the Hacienda. It has a historical note,” he tells me. Herman is reading to me off the 3G. Or is it four now? I can never keep it straight. He tells me he’s getting a booming cell signal as we head down the long, steep ramp at the north end of the Grapevine, out of the foothills, and onto the Valley floor. Everything he reads is going in one ear and out the other, my mind wandering.

  “According to this, it says it’s located on the base, but it’s open to the public.”

  “What is?” I ask.

  “The Hacienda. Haven’t you been listening? You think I’m readin’ this small print for my pleasure?” says Herman. “I’m gettin’ a headache. Pay attention!”

  “Sorry,” I tell him. “If you think they might be there, we should check it out.”

  “If they’re staying in the area near the reservation, I don’t see a lot of other places they could be. Like I say, unless they went up to King City. It’s possible, but I don’t think they’d do that if they got business on the base. And this place, the Hacienda, it’s not that expensive.”

  “Is there a phone number?” I ask.

  He squints at the screen on the phone and runs his finger up and down it, looking. “Yeah. Here it is. You want me to call ’em? See if they’re checked in?”

  “No, not yet. Let’s get closer before we do it.”

  “Why? You thinkin’ they might rabbit?”

  “Not them, him. If we talk to the desk, and they mention it to Akers, unless I miss my bet, he’s gonna find some other place to take her, some other hot news flash for the foundation. Let’s wait ’til we’re on top of them.”

  “I’m wondering,” he says. “Look at my phone.”

  I glance over. “What about it?”

  “I got five bars,” he says. “I can’t get five bars in my apartment back in Diego.”

  “So?”

  “If I’m gettin’ five bars, and if they’re up this way, why can’t we reach Joselyn or Akers on their cell phones?”

  “Good question.”

  “Unless they’re turned off,” he says. He looks over at me. “You know what I’m getting at?”

  “You’re thinking maybe they don’t want to be disturbed.”

  “I don’t know,” he says. “Far be it for me . . .”

  “Maybe we’re busting in on a love nest.” I take my eyes off the road to glance at him. I read his mind.

  “Don’t get angry. I don’t want you to misunderstand what I’m sayin’.” Herman won’t look me in the eye. He just keeps talking. “I know you and Joselyn been together a long time,” he says.

  “It’s an awkward situation for all of us,” I tell him. “You’re afraid, and so is Harry. None of us can be sure how this is gonna end. If you say the wrong thing, question Josely
n’s commitment, you’re afraid you run the risk that if she and I get back together, you’re on the outs. By the same token, you want me to know you’ve got my back. You don’t have to say anything more. I understand. Stepping in front of me to take a bullet is one thing. Mopping up tears and dealing with a blubbering, heartbroken lover is beyond your call of duty.”

  “Didn’t say that.”

  “You don’t have to,” I tell him. “No need to be afraid. If it happens, we’ll find a good bar and tie one on. Go on an Olympic-class bender and leave Harry holding the bag of bones that was our practice.”

  At least it is brave talk. I suppose we’ll have to wait and see if it happens, and if so, whether it holds up.

  Chapter 16

  AT THE HACIENDA, Akers decided not to park the Escalade in the lot out in front. Instead, he pulled across an unpaved area, drove between two old oak trees, circled around the tennis court, and brought the car to a stop in a cloud of dust in a service area behind the Hacienda.

  Joselyn looked at him. “Why are we parking here?”

  “Wouldn’t do to have Henley see the car out in front when he comes back to his room tonight,” he told her. “He saw us get in and drive away, so he knows our car. He thinks we’re moving on up the coast. He sees us here, booked in a room, he’s gonna start asking questions again. Man’s got a lot of curiosity,” said Akers.

  “Why all the deception?” asked Joselyn.

  “As I explained, if there was any brass around, we’d have to be careful. The only reason we’re allowed in is because they think I’m still with DEVGRU.”

  “I’m not comfortable with any of this,” she told him.

  “You’re the one who wanted to come.”

  “To be candid, I’m not sure I would have had I known you were going to lie to everyone.”

  “Why? Just because they don’t know I’ve separated from the Navy? That’s their problem.”

  “It’s more than that and you know it. Using a false ID, lying to the military about having lost it.”