Disruption: A River Of Secrets And Betrayal

by J. B. Jamison

  "Alex?" Lennie asked.

  "Alex Mantelle. Every company has to have their techie guy nowadays, and Alex is ours. He works with Alma on the traffic system but does lots of other things as well. He's kind of our jack-of-all-trades around here for anything technical."

  "I see. Is Alex..."

  The door opened, and Debbie handed Arbel a folder. He opened it and flipped through a handful of papers.

  "Yeah, it’s like I said," Arbel said without looking up, everything looks just fine here. A pretty typical run."

  "May we take a look, sir?" Emily asked as she extended a hand.

  "Sure, but I'm not sure that you'll..." he stopped as he saw Lennie pull papers from his pocket, hand them to Emily, and lean over to look at the two sets with her.

  "What are you doing?" Arbel asked.

  A few moments of silence as Emily and Lennie looked at the paperwork. They finally looked up, and Emily turned back to Arbel.

  "Sir, I need you to look at something. Before coming in this morning, we pulled the MRTIS traffic reports for the Francis B. for the past week. You're familiar with the..."

  "The river traffic service, sure. But what..."

  "Sir, here, please take a look at the two reports; the MRTIS report and your internal traffic report." Emily hands him the papers.

  Arbel scanned the documents.

  "But, this can't be possible. There must be some kind of mistake here. You say these are both from..."

  "The same time period, yes sir."

  "But, how? Something must be screwed up with the MRTIS system. This shows the Francis B. turning around the other night and going back, even below New Orleans. That's not possible. Our records show it kept moving upriver. Besides, our boats never go below New Orleans. There has to be a problem with MRTIS."

  "We had them confirm the data Mr. Arbel. And, we have images from bridge and traffic cameras showing the Francis B. all the way down to Algiers, below New Orleans."

  "Photos? This makes absolutely no sense at all." He slapped the intercom again, "Debbie, tell Alex I need to see him. I need to see him now."

  "Sir, Alex hasn't come in yet this morning either. There must be something going around. Do you want me to try and call him? Sir? Sir?"

  "No. No thank you’ Debbie. Not right now." His voice sounded like all the air has been let out of the balloon. Arbel leaned back in his chair and finally moved his eyes from the intercom to Agent Graham.

  "I don't...I just don't...there must be some explanation for this...I mean..."

  "Yes, sir."

  "I, uh, I'm sorry, but I do need to go to our morning staff meeting. Our other boats, you know." Arbel was speaking but not to anyone in particular.

  "Of course, sir," Emily said. "We have things we need to take care of right away as well. Why don't we come back in an hour; will that be enough time?"

  Arbel nodded.

  Gil Arbel was a big man. He looked like someone who spent time as a deckhand, worked his way up the ladder and built the physique that comes with that kind of hard work. It felt strange seeing him sitting here now with his head in his hands.

  Chapter 50

  "Look," Lennie said as they walked back toward the coffee and tea shop, "I need to head back and help deal with the media crap going on. I guess our Agent Dasilva needs help after all."

  "Ok, I think we're good here," Emily said. "I want to go through my messages and then go back to Arbel in an hour. But, I have a question for both of you first."

  They stopped walking.

  "Does it seem strange to either of you that the two people involved in the traffic reporting both didn't show up for work this morning?"

  "I was wondering the same thing," Agent Erikson said.

  "Yeah, and it surprised Arbel too," Lennie added.

  "Loren, why don't you go see what you can find about our two missing players. The big question is why they're both gone today, and where they are right now. Then we'll go from there."

  "Sure thing. I'll get my team on it right away and let you know. Agent Ryan, can I give you a lift to the airport first?"

  "Nah, you get going on the Arbel people; I'll grab a cab. Thanks."

  Agent Erikson walked across the street to the car, while Lennie stood at the corner watching for a cab. Emily walked across Main Street, ordered a cup of black tea, and found a seat in a quiet corner. When she heard her name called, she walked to the counter, got her tea, and returned to her table. Someone had taken a seat at a nearby table, and he nodded as she walked by. Emily was not in the mood for conversation with a stranger but returned a polite nod, and then focused her eyes on the screen of her tablet.

  After reviewing the routine messages, and deleting the usual collection of junk mail, she noticed the message with the video attachment. She saw that it was sent by Colonel Reyes at 6:45 this morning. She made sure the volume was down on her tablet to avoid disturbing anyone else and started the video. The image flickered briefly, and then displayed a perfect, birds-eye view of a towboat. As the view passed the boat, she saw the name Francis B. painted on the side. Emily sat up in her chair. The image moved to the stern of the boat where it stayed, following the boat as it moved upriver toward a bridge. After a few minutes, two men appeared on the back of the boat, carrying a large object. A third man was holding a rope. As she watched, the men lowered the object into the water and dragged it behind them with the rope. As the Francis B. passed under the bridge, the man jerked the rope, and the object disappeared into the murky water.

  Emily replayed the video. And again. The images weren't sharp enough for her to make out any faces, but it was very clear what was going on. The object on the rope was the same size as the device found at Grammercy. And it was indeed the Francis B.

  Emily's pulse was racing, and she wanted to stand up on her chair and yell something, like, "We got 'em!", but she knew that was not an option. Instead, she leaned back in her chair, turned off the video and allowed her eyes to move from the screen to the rest of the room.

  The man at the nearby table also looked up and nodded a second time. Emily politely did the same, and immediately looked back to her screen. The man got up from his table and walked toward the door, but not before stopping to offer one more smile and nod. This time, Emily ignored it and began planning her second conversation with Mr. Gil Arbel.

  Chapter 51

  "Agent Graham, come in please." Gil Arbel saw her standing in the office doorway.

  "Thank you, sir," Emily said. "I hope your staff meeting went well."

  "Yes, just fine, thanks. Though I am even more puzzled than I was earlier; about Alma not being here."

  "Sir?"

  "She apparently did come in this morning as usual. She prepared the traffic reports, but left before the meeting; she told someone she was not feeling well and was going home."

  "I'm sorry to hear that."

  "Yeah, I worry about her sometimes. Like I said, her husband was our port captain but ended up with some type of cancer. It was a really hard time for both of them. I've tried to help Alma out as much as I can, but sometimes she still seems to be having a tough time of it. I'm just hoping she hasn't ended up with something like Harvey had."

  "Yes, I understand. We actually have someone checking on her this morning, so maybe we can help ease your mind on that."

  "Checking on her? What do you mean? You're not suggesting..."

  "Mr. Arbel, I assure you, it’s just routine. With her role in creating the traffic reports, we need to make sure we have all the information we need; especially with the discrepancies with the MRTIS reports."

  "I still can't believe our people would be involved in something like this. I mean, even with those photos, it doesn't prove that the Francis B. is connected with these device things you are talking about."

  Emily got up from her chair and walked to Arbel's desk.

  "I need to show you something we just got this morning." She placed the tablet on the desk and started the video.

  "Yes
, that's the Francis B.," Arbel said, "and that looks like the Vicksburg bridge. But wait, who are those people on the stern tail? Those aren't our guys."

  "How can you tell sir? I mean, are you sure?"

  "Of course I'm sure. Our guys wouldn't be out there without wearing a vest; they know better."

  "A vest?"

  "A life jacket. Every towboater knows stories of what happens if you fall in the river without a vest. It’s one of the biggest risks of the job. Our guys wear a vest anytime they're outside, ‘cause they know I'll fire their ass if they don’t. No, those aren't our guys. Who are they?"

  "That's what we need to find out, sir. We're working on facial recognition now."

  "I need to call my boat."

  "Sir, wait. Please."

  "I need to know if my people are ok out there. I need to know who these people are and what the hell they are doing on my boat."

  "Yes sir, we want the same thing. But we don't want to spook them if you know what I mean. Right now, they don't appear to know we have tracked them down, so whatever they are doing, it seems to be safe for your crew. But if we spook them; well, we don't know what they might do."

  "Yeah, OK. Alright. I understand. So just what can we do? I just can't sit here."

  "No sir, we're not going to do that. Let's start by having you..." She felt the vibration in her pocket. "Excuse me a minute Mr. Arbel, I need to take this."

  "Sure."

  "Graham." She said as she raised the phone.

  "Emily, it’s Loren Erikson. We found Alma Hendricks; she's at home."

  "That's good news. She told someone here that's where she was going."

  "We've just confirmed she is here, but haven't talked with her yet. What do you want us to do?"

  "I'll tell you what; have your people keep an eye on her, and you pick me up at Arbel's in thirty minutes; we'll both talk with her."

  "Got it. See you then."

  "You found Alma?" Arbel asked. "Is she alright?"

  "She is at home, but we've not talked with her yet; you heard my side of the conversation."

  "But she's OK?"

  "As far as we know, yes."

  Gil Arbel smiled, leaned back in his chair. His eyes closed for a few seconds and then opened to focus on Emily.

  "I'm sorry Agent Graham, but these folks are like family to me; especially Alma, after all she's been through."

  "I understand sir."

  Arbel's eyes showed a question. "I'm curious. There was a captain I knew named Graham, any chance you know him? Jim Graham."

  "He's my father, yes sir."

  "You're Jim Graham's daughter? Well, I'll be damned. That means I saw pictures of you back when you must have been three or four years old; Jim showed those things to everybody. Where is your dad now; how is he?"

  "He's in New Orleans, where I live. He's fine physically, but he's having cognition problems...you know, memory issues. A few months ago I had to move him to a new place; someplace they're trained to deal with that kind of thing. He can be kind of challenging to handle sometimes."

  "That's Jim for ya. He was one of the old-school guys out there. He knew the river better than anybody I ever met, but he never quite figured out how to handle people; no offense, I mean."

  "No, none taken. It sounds like you knew him pretty well."

  "We rode together for several years up on the Illinois. He's the main reason I got my pilot's license; I don't think I could have done it without his foot on my rear end."

  "Yeah, that's his approach."

  "When I got off the river and took over the company, I tried to convince him to come with me."

  "Really?"

  "I thought he would make one hell of a port captain; he knew how everything worked, and knew how to sort through all the crap you have to deal with. But he wouldn't do it; said he was sick and tired of the boats, but wasn't about to trade them for a desk. I guess he stayed out there until he retired?"

  "Yes, sir."

  "Jim Graham's girl. I'll be damned. But I'm sure you want to talk about other things right now. Maybe when this is all over, we can have you out to dinner sometime; tell some stories about your dad?"

  "I'd like that sir, but yes, we do need to talk about the Francis B. What can you tell me about the crew out there right now?"

  "They're a good bunch. Charlie Graff is the captain. He's a lot like your dad; one of the guys who's been out there since high school. Charlie was working for my dad before I came in the office. Like your dad, he doesn't put up with any nonsense on his boat, so whatever is going on out there, I know Charlie isn't a part of it. If I know him, he's just waiting for the right opportunity to throw the guys into the river."

  "And the others?"

  "The pilot is Frank Maddox. He came here five or six years ago, and he's one of the guys Charlie has kind of taken under his wing. He’ll be running his own boat in a few more months. He's smart, and has a good way of dealing with his crew. Tough, but fair; the guys like working for him."

  "Do they both have families?"

  "Yeah. Charlie's kids are grown and on their own, so it’s just him and his wife now. Good kids, too. Frank has two kids, both in college. He lost his wife two years ago; some kind of infection that got out of control. They tried all kinds of things to stop it, but nothing worked. The kids were in high school then, so we gave him some time off to be with them and take care of things. I actually tried to get him to move here to the office. I thought they could move here to town, and he could work here so he could be home at night with the kids. He had a tough time of it for a while; I don't know all the details, but I guess there were some messy things with insurance. I even called our provider and threatened to change companies if they didn't step up and fix things, so they finally did take care of most of the issues."

  "Yes, sir."

  "The chief engineer is Smitty Reynolds; that's not his real first name, but its the only one he uses. He's Charlie Graff's cousin, which honestly, is probably the only reason he's still got a job."

  "Sir?"

  "Smitty is what you call, one of those colorful characters. He's a damned good engineer, but he's had a serious problem with alcohol."

  "I see."

  "And I mean serious. He starts drinking the day he gets off a boat, and he doesn't stop until he gets on the next one thirty days later. That kind of serious. I'll tell you his wife is a saint; I'm just amazed she hasn't shot him yet."

  "Has the drinking caused any problems?"

  "At work? Only once or twice; but that was quite a while ago. And mostly just stupid stuff that Charlie was able to clear up with a few phone calls to friends. Now he only rides with Charlie; they have kind of a family agreement. Smitty knows if he gets caught drinking on the boat, Charlie isn't going to make any more phone calls. Without the booze, Smitty is a great guy. Hell of an engineer, and hell of a friend; will do anything for you and works harder than any three men on the river. It’s a sickness..."

  "I understand. Who else is on the Francis B. right now?"

  Gil Arbel described Roosevelt Phelps, the oiler, or second engineer, a man from the Louisiana bayou country.

  "Goes out there and catches those big snapping turtles bare-handed. I'll tell you; the man isn't afraid of anything."

  He listed the four deckhands: Clovis Landry and Virgil Amedee, two young men from Mississippi who came to the boats as their way of getting out into the world. Ricky Pratt, fresh from high school in Arkansas, with dreams of one day having his own boat. Danny Romero from Georgia, the newest crew member, just learning the deckhand role. "Charlie tells me he's a hard worker but doesn't seem to mix well with the rest of the crew; kind of keeps to himself a bit too much. But if anyone can bring him out of it, Charlie’s the guy."

  And finally, the most important crew member on any boat; the cook, Dorian Dufries. "We always put Dorian out there with Charlie. She's the only cook we've got who knows how to make coffee the way Charlie likes it. If we give Charlie anyone but Dorian, I get call
s; I mean lots of calls from Charlie threatening to throw them off his boat. So, that's the crew."

  "I know this is a difficult question, but are there any of those people that you would have any concerns at all about; I mean, any of them who might..."

  "Might be involved in something like this? Absolutely not!"

  "Alright. One last thing for now. You've told me a bit about Alma, and I'll talk with her later, but what can you tell me about Alex; the tech guy?"

  "Alex? He's one of those nerdy, tech guys I guess. Smart as a whip, and a hard worker. I don't understand about half of what he says, but he's done a good job for us."

  "How long has he been here?"

  "Alex came a couple of years ago, as we were talking about doing the system update for Alma's work. We did a search and Alex was the top of the list; came from out East I believe, around Baltimore. He's quiet, but has brought us into the twenty-first century."

  "That sounds good, thanks. Is there anything else you can think of that I ought to know right now? Anything at all?"

  "No, I don't think so. Other than I know that whoever those other people are on my boat, my people aren't involved with them; not willingly anyway."

  Emily got up and started toward the door.

  "Mr. Arbel, I want to remind you to not say anything about our conversation to anyone else; here at work or anyplace. Until we understand just what is going on here, we don't know who might be involved, and what these guys might do if they know we are coming."

  "I understand. Just take care of my people, alright?"

  "Yes sir, we'll do our best."

  Emily walked from the office and stood in the shade of a small tree as she sorted through the events of the past seventy-two hours and waited for her ride.

  Chapter 52