by Tom Hansen
Lew followed Willy’s narrative by replaying his week in Florida and how he met Phil Bennett and became friends. He mentioned discovering Pancho’s friend, Miguel, and then carefully detailed the submarine container that ran from Oliver Harfield’s estate to the Kissimmee River. Mouths flew wide open as Lew annotated Miguel’s murder and subsequent consumption in the belly of a Burmese python. He then explained why he believed Sheriff Bonty was involved in some sort of cover-up, and relayed the horrific events the night of the airplane crash.
While Willy and Lew were painting a vivid picture of corruption in Seminole Bend, Agent Tecka was taking notes while Agent Jones was mapping out the chronology of events. He thought about all the people involved and tried to connect the dots. Johnny Murphree was standing next to the FBI agents providing guidance and clarity when needed.
After Lew finished speaking, Otis asked a question. “Mr. Lew, you was telling us ‘bout a picture that Abby gave you from some dude called Danny. Can we take a peek at it?”
Lew had the envelope with pictures on the table next to him. “Sure, take a look. I still feel like something’s not right, but I can’t place it. Maybe all of you could help.” He pulled out the photo of the celebration after the Sebring basketball game and handed it to Otis.
“Yep,” exclaimed Otis as he smiled proudly while pointing at a figure in the picture. “That there is my nephew Tyrone. Dang good player, he is. He lives with me and Willy, sure does.”
“It’s not the players or Brett that bothers me,” said Lew shaking his head. “It’s something else.” He was about to spell out his thoughts when six FBI techies entered the room. Jones and Tecka stood up and approached them, said a few words, and then Tecka yanked Daughtry’s personal guard off his chair and led him to the door. Jones showed the techies Sam Dulie’s desk and pointed to the satellite dish that was outside the window while Tecka locked the guard in the backseat of the FBI vehicle.
“Let’s start out there,” said Agent Toby Brewer as he motioned to the dish. “Whatever else is happening here is being run through that thing. There’s an uplink transmitting antenna in the middle of that damn thing.”
“Speak English, Toby,” replied Agent Jones.
“Well, let’s go take a closer look, but I can tell from here that dish out there is what they call an uplink transmitting satellite dish. It sends electronic signals to a transponder satellite just outside the earth’s atmosphere. Then, it converts those signals to a different frequency and sends it back to earth to some receiver on the ground. That’s what is known as a downlink.”
Lance’s eyes opened wide and he interrupted, “Science fiction right here where we standing! Wow!”
“Fiction is not the right word, sir,” responded Agent Brewer. “That thing has the capability of doing really bad things. And that’s the truth!”
CHAPTER 72
Saturday, March 13, 1982
6:00 p.m.
“W hy did you bring me here?” she asked nervously. “I’ve done what you asked. You said I could go live a normal life when it was all over.”
“Because you messed up! You were supposed to rendezvous back at Oliver’s last Tuesday. Where the hell have you been?” barked Roy.
“Someone broke into the house while I was upstairs,” she replied. “I grabbed the jewelry box and jumped out the second floor window and ran out onto the golf course. I hurt my ankle, but I went back later for the picture.”
“Lew Berry,” inserted Sheriff Al Bonty into the conversation. “He’s been snooping around and would be the only one who would break into his own son’s house. And the man also embarrassed me in my own sheriff’s office, in front of my men, dang nab it! I can arrest him for breaking and entering if you want. That would keep him out of the picture. I think Murphree and Willy Banks are involved with him, too. Those two will probably call in the FBI, if I know them.”
They were sitting in Oliver Harfield’s private jet on the tarmac at Orlando International Airport.
“Right now, we need to stick to the plan, Al. After Daughtry and Dulie drop Tyrus off at the Nike base in Key Largo, they’re meeting us here. They should arrive any minute. Afterward, I’ll personally deal with Lew Berry. When I’m done with him, you won’t need to take up space in your jailhouse, either!”
“Can’t you leave him alone?” she asked. “Haven’t you taken everything that Lew Berry cherishes already? Give him some peace. He’ll go away eventually.”
Oliver had been sitting there mildly listening while looking out the small passenger window. “You’re right, Roy. We need to get rid of him. We’ve been planning the end game for over twenty years and we don’t need to be tripped up now. Put him on a doomed plane back to Pittsburgh if you have to.”
“What about me?” she asked with a hint of desperation in her voice. “I gave you the jewelry box and left the master bedroom in disarray so it would look like a burglary. If and when the FBI finds the hand and the ring out in the swamp, and if they are smart enough to figure out some things, they will come looking and notice the jewelry box missing. Here’s the picture.” She tossed the Polaroid print over to Oliver. “Now am I free to go?”
Oliver stood up and pushed the lady face first onto the floor. While kneeling on her back, he pulled out handcuffs and fastened her right arm to a bracket under the seat. Her belly was squished and she screamed in pain.
“Sorry sweetheart, we have other plans for you now,” said Oliver with a wink and a smile.
“Lighten up a bit,” said Sheriff Bonty. “Keep her chained but get off her damned back.”
The Sikorsky helicopter touched down gently next to Harfield’s jet. Governor Daughtry came out first, followed by DNR Supervisor Sam Dulie and Yussef. Two Arab men emerged out of the cargo hold rolling a huge bronze chest. They needed a small hydraulic lift, which had been tucked away on the helicopter, to boost the chest up to the jet’s plug door. When the chest had been loaded and everyone was on board, the door was closed and they all took seats on the comfortable leather swivel chairs and gazed at the lady lying on the floor.
“A gift for your father the prince,” said Roy to Yussef as he gestured at the body weeping below him. “He will soon rule the world.”
“The stolen Soviet MIG-25 Foxbat with the two nuclear warheads should be taking off from the Baku airbase in thirty minutes,” stated Yussef matter-of-factly. He was a scientist and engineer, and now simply spitting out information with no emotion. “The distance of 6,845 miles to our target in Miami can be covered in about three and a half hours flying at the max speed of 2,170 miles per hour. Our pilot will eject near Bimini Island and the autopilot is programmed to take it from there. The jet will need to slow down to sub-mach speed and descend to 20,000 feet for the ejection to be safe, but at that point the aircraft is only eighty miles from its target. That will be the start of what my father has dreamed of his entire life.”
“And the remote controllers are in the helicopter?” asked Oliver.
“Yes, there are enough remotes and equipment in there now to reconfigure a much larger new guidance facility in Gainesville.”
“And, Roy, the radar jammers have been moved from your ranch?” Oliver was quizzing the group to ensure there were no leaks in the plan.
“The trucks are on the way to the various airports with the jammers and a bunch of decoy goods, like computers, on board just for looks. Tyrus shut down the factory in Columbia before he left. As you know, his name is listed on the manifest as being on the Sky Tropic Airways flight that collided with the Heartland Lakes plane, so there won’t be any trace of him.”
“Hank, you have told your staff that you are on retreat at your hideaway in Homestead, right?” The governor nodded. “And Sam, your crew thinks you are staying overnight at the DNR office tonight to catch up on some work, yes or no?”
“Yes sir, that’s correct,” replied Dulie. “The entire state of Florida will be mourning the death of their beloved governor and me very soon.” Sam chuckled under
his breath.
“Excellent!” stated Oliver. “Tomorrow morning the United States of America will believe we’ve been attacked by the Soviet Union following the dropping of a nuclear warhead near Miami. The explosion will destroy all the old evidence in Hank’s video room and Sam’s office, which is only a mile away from the target. We will set up our new video guidance facility under the O’Sullivan Center in Gainesville next week. The trick will be rigging the air traffic control centers’ radar equipment. But Jake Tassett plans to use his NTSB credentials to do a fake routine check of the equipment as he did in all the Florida airports and Chicago. Hopefully, no one will notice him installing the jammers. He should have all the airports ready to go in three weeks.”
“Are the Nike bases rigged and ready?” asked Roy.
“As you know, using Prince Adil’s generous oil money, we have purchased two Nike locations in the south. The Navy had transferred the Key Largo facility to the Air Force last month, and using Sam’s and Hank’s authorizations we offered them several million dollars for it. We claimed the DNR wanted to reforest the location. Tyrus has temporarily relocated there.
“Then up at the old Nike base in Albany, Georgia, we bought the land and built an alcohol and drug rehabilitation center on top of it. Figured that would keep the feds away! Tyrus has a man he employed down in Columbia who seems quite capable of holding down that fort. His name is, get this, Jim Brown. Hasn’t rushed for any touchdowns, though, as far as I know!” Oliver laughed at his own wit and the others smiled.
“I’m assuming the missiles are now locked and loaded?” questioned Roy.
“Yes, and our inside source at the White House will book President Layman for an immediate visit to Miami on Monday to examine the destruction. We were only able to rig up an old Nike Hercules for the Key Largo site, but it should still be able to take out Air Force One. However, the range is only eighty-seven miles, so Albany is a backup in case Largo misses and Air Force One turns around and hightails back north to Washington. We’ve got a Zeus-B loaded up there with Mach four speed and a longer range.”
“What if that one misses, Oliver, then what?”
“Won’t really matter if the president lives or dies, really. Either way, the US will assume that Russian missiles were targeting Layman and it won’t take long for the Cold War to become a very hot one!
“And my father?” asked Yussef. “When will he become the new world ruler?”
“As soon as we’re done here, you and Sam and I will fly to Al Qadir to set up a communications base with a direct link to our operations center that Ray Jackson has created in Gainesville,” replied Oliver. “Chances are extremely small that the op center will ever be discovered as it is well hidden under the O’Sullivan Center. Once the jammers are in place, we will create a massive hostage situation in the skies. Ray has hired a staff of operators in Gainesville who will take control of several planes full of passengers, but even if the pilots somehow regain control of their aircraft the jamming equipment will create havoc in the air and on the ground. At that point, your father will contact Vice President Matthews, who will then be President Matthews, assuming of course we were able to take down Air Force One with Layman in it. The prince will demand the immediate release of the USS Halibut that is currently mothballed at the Kitsap Naval Base near Seattle. As you know, we were successful in secretly boarding the submarine and rigging its two Regulus missile launchers with the most powerful and destructive nuclear warheads in the world. Each warhead could destroy a swath of land so large it would wipe out every building from Washington, DC, to Boston, including New York and Philly.”
“How long will it take to fire up and deploy the Halibut?” asked Daughtry.
“We have a crew of fifteen men stationed at Kitsap that were supposedly transferred there from other naval bases on the order of Admiral Inman, who happens to be a friend of Ray’s. It took the good Admiral a mere five minutes to renounce his patriotism and accept Ray’s leather briefcase loaded with cash! The estimated time to board and secure the sub is approximately a half hour. They will need to diesel through the Puget Sound for another half hour before they can submerge into the Pacific Ocean. I would expect no orders from the higher-ups to attack and sink the Halibut seeing the two warheads onboard would devastate everything from Vancouver to Portland. Meanwhile, the hijacked civilian planes will all have about five hours of fuel, thus the president’s window to make a decision on the ransom is roughly three hours before the jets come crashing to the ground. Once the nuclear submarine and the fate of the world is under the Prince’s control, we will all be headed off to our retirement islands with enough wealth to enjoy each and every day left in our lives!”
Just then, the gal cuffed to the seat bracket began to moan and turn pale. They all could see it was no bluff, she was in deep pain.
Roy knelt down beside her and felt for a pulse on her neck. The lady’s skin was cold and her heartbeat erratic. “Give me the keys, Oliver.”
Oliver sighed, but then reluctantly handed Roy the keys and he unfastened the cuffs. Roy then rolled the lady over on her back.
“She needs some help,” Roy said to Oliver. “We need to get her to a doctor now! I don’t care what happens to her, but we need to save the baby. That’s my grandson she’s carrying!”
CHAPTER 73
Sunday, March 14, 1982
12:15 a.m.
“T his is all quite sophisticated,” exclaimed Agent Toby Brewer. After the FBI team completed a thorough photo session documenting every piece of equipment and cables in the DNR office, Willy had led the team back to Daughtry’s house. “The videotapes are enough to send the governor and Dulie to the electric chair. Willy, show me the playback of the car you were controlling.”
Willy reluctantly switched on the second television and rewound the tape to where he began the remote control. He pushed the play button.
“Slow it down to almost nothing,” ordered Brewer. Willy held down the slow motion feed button. “There, pause it!” Willy pressed pause.
“What is it, Toby?” asked Agent Jones. “What do you see?”
“The billboard off the highway to the right. It’s in Arabic. I believe it’s advertising for a gas station in Fayez in ten kilometers, which is about six miles.”
“So, they’re on the outskirts of the Jasurbian capital?” asked Agent Tecka.
“That would appear to be the area. Obviously, it’s a desert location because you see only brown sand all around.”
“Whose car would Daughtry want to control in Jasurbia?” inquired Jones with a puzzled look.
* * * * *
Tyrus Banks was in the living quarters connected to the underground Nike base control center in Key Largo. He had left three messages for Jim Brown, his counterpart in Gainesville, and was becoming very nervous. Jim was flying back from his mission in Baku, but should have arrived in Florida by now. It was one o’clock and he couldn’t sleep, so Tyrus switched on CNN to clear his mind. The headlines out of the Middle East were shocking. Crown Prince Hakim’s limousine driver had lost control of the royal vehicle outside of Fayez, crossed the median and flipped several times. The crown prince, who was also the Jasurbian defense minister, died instantly.
Tyrus sat up, now fully awake, and stared at the TV to watch the never-ending video feed that was live from the scene. “How could this happen?” Tyrus muttered to himself.
He got on the phone and tried to call Jim Brown one more time. No luck, so he left another message, “Crown Prince Hakim was killed in a car accident. According to the time of death, Daughtry was with me in the helicopter, so it wasn’t him who did it. Someone must have broken into the house, but who would know about the video controls? I’m going over there to check it out. I’ll call when I find something out.”
Tyrus had never seen Daughtry’s control center, but Jim Brown had faxed him an architectural drawing of the house with the video room clearly delineated. Brown found the drawing on a desk while meeting with Ray Jacks
on in the secret facility under the O’Sullivan Center. In a handwritten note faxed with the drawing, Brown spelled out exactly what Daughtry was doing in the country house. The plan was to relocate the control center to the Gainesville location, and then destroy all the evidence with the nuclear blast from the Russian Mig-25 Foxbat.
Tyrus got dressed and ran to his leased Jeep Wagoneer. He knew the Russian fighter jet would be crashing down on top of him if he wasn’t out of Daughtry’s house by four o’clock at the latest. Jim Brown supposedly had dismantled the nuclear warheads on the MiG and replaced them with a series of incendiary bombs, which would be ignited by the explosion from the jet. Those bombs would destroy Daughtry’s house and the DNR office a mile away, but keep Miami and the surrounding cities from being destroyed.
Thirty minutes later, Tyrus pulled up to Daughtry’s country home and noticed lights on inside. He parked behind some bushes a hundred yards away and grabbed his own Colt 9mm submachine gun from the back seat. The assault weapons were standard issue by Oliver Harfield’s team and an abundance of the guns were kept at Roy Jackson’s ranch. Everyone on Team Harfield carried one or had it tucked away close by.
Tyrus moved quietly to the house in a slow, sinuous manner. He guessed that Daughtry’s guard most likely would be sleeping just inside the locked and barricaded front door, but why would the lights be left on? Tyrus peeked through the window and saw silhouettes dancing on the wall in the back room. He pulled out the architectural drawing and knew that whoever was here was in the video room.
Tyrus crept towards the front door to try the lock, but there was no lock in sight. Whoever was inside had blasted their way in using a powerful weapon. Tyrus pushed on the metal door and it squeaked open. He aimed his Colt 9mm and walked inside, then moved the weapon back and forth while surveying the room. Voices could be heard coming from the video room. Tyrus inched slowly past the kitchen to the doorway.