by Scott Cook
“Would’ve been nice if our contact had opened a curtain or a blind,” I grumped, trying to peek inside. “Those plantation shutters are gonna make a hell of a racket when we climb through that window.”
I heard Turner curse and looked to my left. He had the screen out of both sides of the living room window and was having no luck in razing the panes.
“Locked,” he whispered irritably.
“Naturally,” Hightower said as he followed Jackie up onto the patio and they began to sluff off their bulky gear.
“Now what?” Jackie asked.
“Improvise, adapt and overcome,” Turner said, glancing at me.
“Guess it’s my job to pull the B and E?” I asked bemusedly.
“You’re the closest thing we have to a criminal, sir,” Jackie replied.
“It’s got to be the slider,” I stated. “Can’t risk going out front. Here’s hoping there’s no alarm system…”
I gripped the slider, lifted and turned and angled and it came free. I was mildly surprised at that. This was a common problem with older sliding glass doors. However, the addition of a simple pin that went through both frames would easily prevent what I’d just done.
“Three, Four, go!” Turner ordered.
Jackie and Hightower moved in through the curtains, night vision goggles already strapped to their heads. Turner followed and I went in after him, replacing the door and sliding it closed. If there had been anybody in the house, the rattling of the slider would have alerted them. That part of our contact’s info had been right, at least. The house was empty and there was no alarm system.
We all met in the kitchen and turned off the earwigs. Turner began to peel off his wetsuit.
“Everybody out of the skins. There are two bathrooms. Quick Navy showers, get dressed and let’s move on to phase three,” The commander ordered.
“Should we share to save time and water?” Jackie teased.
“Okay, but I get to go with Scott,” Hightower chuckled.
“Tony and Jackie first,” Turner said with a sigh. “Move your asses. We’ll scope the vehicle sitch.”
The house didn’t have a garage, but it did have a single car port in which a Nissan Quest minivan was parked. I found the keys in the kitchen’s junk drawer. Turner rifled through his equipment bag and pulled out four laminated passes and set them on the counter. They were manufactured base I.D.’s with fake names matching our four images. He grinned when the other two teammates stepped out from the second bathroom and the master wearing very different outfits than those in which we’d arrived.
Jackie wore a knee-length cocktail dress that was somewhat conservative, especially with the matching felt jacket and handbag. Hightower wore a button-down golf shirt, khaki slacks and dress shoes. Over this he wore a charcoal blazer that effectively hid his weapon.
Turner and I went next and dressed similar to Tony. Once our wetsuits were hung in the bathtubs, we checked to make sure all of the gear we needed was in place. Beretta .32 pistols for easy concealment, single-use stunners and one-each knockout pens.
“Let’s roll,” Turner ordered.
We walked out front, locked up and got into the van as casually as if we owned the place. It was twenty minutes to midnight and we were on schedule.
18
The ride to the base’s front gate was very short, and we had no trouble getting past the guard station thanks to Turner’s fake I.D. We pulled up in front of the officer’s club and parked behind a stretch limo. Two men stood outside the car in the usual livery – caps and jackets – yet we knew they were armed security as well. They’d have at least two friends inside.
“Okay, phase four begins,” Turner said, switching on his comm again. “We all go in, but Three and I wait in the lobby. Two and Four scope out our target. Once we have a profile of his position, his security and his overall engagement, Three and I will exit and deal with these two fellows here. Two and Four, you’re a couple and you do what you can to separate the target from the group. Report on security inside. Three and I will enter and take them out, noisily. Then you two hustle the target out to his limo, stating that you’re additional security. Everybody got that?”
We moved. We exited the vehicle, waved to the limo driver and his partner and walked into the club where a very lively party was underway. A jazz combo was playing and several dozen people slow danced on an improvised dance floor. More people sat at small tables to one side and many other gathered around the bar to the right. The large room was vibrant with glittering chandeliers, flickering candles, festive streamers and the audible cacophony of laughter and conversation.
Uniforms and pretty dresses abounded. Men in Navy, Marine Corps and Air Force uniforms milled about and their girlfriends and wives, those not in the service anyway, showed off what looks and style each could boast. At the center of it all was a tall man in his late fifties. He wore a tuxedo set off by a heavy gold watch that was probably a Rolex or better. It glittered impressively every time he raised his left hand to sip from a tumbler.
“That’s him,” I muttered, squeezing Jackie’s hand.
“Target acquired,” she said softly but loud enough for her earwig to transmit. “No sign of non-service security as yet. May be hard to spot.”
There was no verbal reply. Only a quiet double click of somebody’s teeth let us know they’d heard.
“Let’s split up,” I suggested. “I’ll do an orbit and you approach him directly.”
“Think he’ll talk to me?” Jackie asked with a wry smile.
“I think he will, in spite of that high neckline.”
Jackie and I split up and I drifted over to a side table set up between the bar and a short hallway that led back to the heads. On it were an array of sparkling glasses and no less than a dozen bottles of champagne in ice buckets. I took time to pour myself a full glass while gazing sidelong at Jackie, who’d managed to insinuate herself into the crowd and was speaking with the tuxedoed man. I could hear his booming laughter and his refined southern accent. The conversation was a little hard to track due to the din of conversation and the music. However, from what I heard and saw, he had taken a shine to the young and very attractive Marine already.
“Four has made contact with target,” I whispered to no one. “He’s flirting already.”
Two men chuckled softly into my ear and Turner said, “As expected. Fits his MO to a T.”
I took my full glass of bubbly and began to circle around the impromptu dance floor. Occasionally, I’d be bumped into by somebody or someone would say hello, but I only smiled, nodded and kept going. Spotting at least two security men would probably be next to impossible in a crowd like this. A lot of people were checking out the Senator, both close up and from afar.
As I passed in front of the band, I noticed two things of interest. First, that Jackie seemed to be flirting with the senator. They were both sharing a drink and laughing together. That was, as indicated by my fellow team members, part of his personality profile.
Senator Maxwell Thorne of Florida was a widower, having lost his wife two years earlier. Even before that, though, the Republican was widely known as a flamboyant man who had a particular eye for the ladies. He was about six foot one, broad in the shoulders and fairly lean in the middle for a man of fifty-eight. His salt and pepper hair, mostly salt these days, was cut short and arranged to look military.
Thorne was an important figure to the military because he sat on the Senate Appropriations Committee and was also, I was told, one of the proponents and most public supporters of ICE. Now that the administration had changed, not simply from one president to another but from one party to another, there was some concern that the Republican-sponsored ICE program might be in danger of losing some or all of its funding.
However, Senator Thorne wasn’t my target for any of those reasons on that night. Well… not primarily at least. The second thing that I noticed were two men in black suits at either end of the room, leaning against the walls and
staring at the bar. They had secret service or even private security written all over them. Once I spotted them, they were as obvious as if they were holding up signs declaring that they had Thorne’s back. Neither one had a drink in his hand and neither one was engaging with anyone near them.
Once it was obvious why the two men were there, it seemed painfully obvious. There were good reasons for this, certainly. Well-concealed security could spring into action, yet they couldn’t deter unwanted action.
“Watchers identified,” I said. “Two men, bow and stern. Black suits, sour faces and totally disengaged.”
“Suggestions on how to neutralize them?” Turner asked.
I sighed softly, “No idea. Neutralizing them might not be difficult. We can knock them out easily enough. Either directly or wait until one or the other goes to the head… but I’m sure the target knows them. Might be better if we recruit them to our ‘cause’ as it were.”
Silence and then: “Specify.”
“Not sure yet, gonna have to wing it,” I replied. “What’s your sitch?”
“Driver and his partner already went night-night,” Hightower said cheerfully.
I chuckled, “You peel their muffin cap back blue?”
Hightower laughed. He was a fan of Kevin Heart, the stand-up comedian. Turner cut in, “Limo is secure. Want us to come inside?”
“Not sure yet,” I replied as I walked in front of the band. “Give me a few minutes to recon… uh-oh…”
“What?” Turner hissed.
“I’ve got company,” I said. “Standby…”
“Well, raise my rent!” Lionel Argus said as he and his wife Trish spotted me and waved.
I cursed under my breath and met Lionel’s eyes. I smiled and winked at him, hoping he’d get the message as I walked over to them and the couple he was talking too. Luckily, another pair of civilians.
“What’re you two doing here?” I asked with a smile as I shook Lionel’s hand and kissed Trish. They were both dressed in semi-formal evening wear and looked like the attractive, wealthy and influential people they were. He was a tall fit black man in his late forties about my size and Trish was an athletic brunette a few years younger.
The Argus’ had been the focus of a case a little less than two years earlier. In fact, my third book Play the Hand You’re Dealt is all about how a rival gambling cruise line was trying to muscle into their business using racial threats and other intimidation tactics. They’d become good friends since and were the senior partners in our Saint Petersburg restaurant, the Spindrift Bar and Grill.
“Lot of local businesspeople here tonight to meet the Senator,” Trish said. “We’ve known him for years.”
I laughed, “Of course you do.”
“Sam, Deborah,” Lionel addressed the other couple, an attractive pair in their late forties. “Please let me introduce— “
“Commander Alan Lewrie,” I said, effecting a smooth English accent and extending a hand and offering the pair a big public relations smile. “It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance.”
I caught Trish’s eye out of the corner of mine and I thought I got a small nod. I think they understood, or were at least willing to play along.
“What the hell?” I heard Turner mutter in my ear.
“Improvise, adapt and overcome,” Hightower replied with a chuckle.
“Nice to meet you, Commander,” The man, Sam, said. “How do you know Lionel and Trish here?”
“Oh, we’ve known one another for quite a long time,” I offered with no further explanation.
“Are you with that lovely young lady who’s talking to the Senator?” Deborah asked. “I thought I saw you two come in together.”
“You’ve got a fine eye for detail, madame,” I complimented, inwardly cringing. “Yes, I am, actually. She was kind enough to escort a poor visiting officer for the evening. I think perhaps I’d best go rescue her, however. Your senator appears to have his charm on full power. Have you all had an opportunity to share a word or two with Senator Thorne as yet?”
“A while back,” Lionel said, cocking an eyebrow at me. “We figured we’d hang back for a bit before going in again.”
“Well, let me at least go say good evening. Diplomatic relations, you know,” I charmed. “Then perhaps we might have a drink together?”
“Sounds great,” Trish enthused, reaching out and squeezing my hand. “Let us know if there’s anything…”
I grinned and excused myself, making my way toward the bar.
“I’m glad your friends played along,” Turner commented.
“Yeah… they’re sharp,” I replied. “Okay, here’s what I think we should do. I’m going to get the target separated from the party. Tell him there’s a call for him… What’s the driver’s name?”
“I.D. says William Han,” Hightower reported.
“Okay, I tell the Senator that Han says there’s an important call on the limo phone,” I said. “I assume it’s his stretch and that there’s probably a secure line in it?”
“As a matter of fact yes,” Turner said, sounding mildly impressed.
“Good… I get the Senator to gather his men and the three of them exit,” I continued. “You two neutralize the guards and Four and I will exit right after. Then we can move.”
There was a long pause before Turner said: “Sounds as good as anything, Commander Lewrie. Let us know when the ball is in play.”
“Aye-aye,” I replied as I approached the group at the bar.
“Oh, there you are, Alan!” Jackie cried, one hand on Thorne’s arm. “I’ve been telling the Senator all about you.”
“Indeed?” I asked casually, still in my English accent. “And he’s still smiling?”
Thorne laughed and extended his hand, “Pleasure to meet you, Commander. Miss Villiars here was telling me about some of your adventures in the Royal Navy.”
What the Christ…?
“Royal Navy?” I heard Hightower exclaim.
“Oh shit… she’s improvising… goddammit… what the hell are you doing, Four?” Turner griped.
Jackie only continued to smile and said: “Oh, Senator, I told you just call me Diana. Believe it or not, you’re speaking to one of the youngest submarine commanders in the British Navy.”
“A pleasure to make your acquaintance, sir,” I enthused and shook the man’s hand vigorously. “Although I must admit to feeling a bit out of my element, being the lone Brit among all you Yanks! Somewhat notorious, eh?”
Thorne laughed boisterously and appeared genuinely interested, “A submariner, eh? Are you in fast attacks or boomers, Commander?”
“Actually, we call them hunter-killers on our side of the pond,” I said with a smile. “I’m assigned to the Audacious, the latest Astute-class hunter killer. She’s similar to your Los Angeles, if a bit shorter and a bit beamier. Quite a fine boat, I’m pleased to say.”
“How the hell does he know this shit?” Hightower asked.
“Thank God he does… okay, Two isn’t gonna be able to pull off his plan as indicated… surprise, surprise… Three, you go in and deliver the message. Probably look better anyway,” Turner said.
“Congratulations to you,” Thorne shook my hand more vigorously. “I’d love to hear some of your stories, Commander Lewrie.”
“Oh, I’d be very happy sir,” I enthused. “Mind you, there are some things I’m supposed to keep to myself, of course. Just as it is in your service. They do refer to it as the silent service for a reason, after all! Tick a lock, mum’s the word, eh? Ha-ha-HA!”
Jackie beamed and winked at me. I so wanted to chew her out for this. We’d invented the false identities, so that wasn’t the problem. But to suddenly make me British and a sub driver without having any idea if I could pull it off… luckily for me, submarines were an interest of mine and I happened to know more than most thanks to my submarine skipper grandfather.
“Excuse me, Senator,” Hightower suddenly appeared at my right elbow. “I’m sorry to inter
rupt. I’m Chief Heart, Master at Arms. Your Mr. Han asked me to let you know that there is an important call on your limo’s phone. He asked if I’d escort you out there for a few moments.”
“Oh, for the love…” Thorne cranked. “It never ends, I’m afraid. I should only be a moment, though. Would you have a drink with me, Commander, Miss Villiars, when I come back in?”
“Of course,” Jackie said cheerfully.
“I should like it of all things, sir,” I replied, maintaining my public relations smile.
Thorne looked to his left and then to his right. He reached up and scratched both ears and then began to walk through the crowd toward the main exit at Hightower’s side. Almost instantly, the two security men were on their tail, taking positions only a few paces behind the Senator.
“For Christ’s sake…” I growled into Jackie’s ear. “Royal Navy? Submarines? Are you off your meds, or what?”
She giggled almost uncontrollably, “You pulled it off, though, Commander Lewrie. Just be thankful I didn’t tell him you were known as the Ram cat in your service.”
“Oh, that’s real funny,” I cranked. “Lucky the Senator isn’t a historical fiction reader… Jesus… let’s move.”
“Who was that couple that saw you?” Jackie asked.
“You noticed that?”
She scoffed.
“Friends of mine,” I said. “Fortunately they got the hint and played along. Tell you later. We’re on a GD op for all love.”
The Senator and Hightower passed out into the lobby and the two security men followed. Jackie and I paused for a second or two and then went through the double doors as well. Turner was easing his now unconscious man onto one of the leather sofas. Hightower was still struggling with his, though. Jackie rushed over to the two men while I moved up next to the Senator and stuck my Beretta into his ribs.