Charley Manner series Box Set

by Michael Marnier

  The scent led Makeen to a desolate water hole. He drank the fresh water, but his hunger continued. He continued deeper into the bush but still close to Highway 1. He felt alone, abandoned. Courage is a key characteristic of the Belgian-Malinois breed, but they need direction, a mission to stay on point. Makeen was starting to feel lost.

  Two days later, after several encounters with locals, some predatory, Makeen was ready to give up. Hungry, thirsty, tired, he needed his trainer to tell him what he must do.

  ~~~

  Twelve hours later...

  VICKY DIALED Charley’s cell phone. She had good news. NSA spooks had intercepted a satellite phone call between Kareef, and a man named Hadad. Kareef’s location was Nicholls Town, Andros, Bahamas. Hadad was calling him from a cellphone in Homestead, Florida.

  “Hey, Vick. Any news?”

  “You bet, Charley. We have intercepted a conversation between Kareef, and someone named Hadad.”

  “Where are they?”

  “Kareef is on Andros Island in Nicholls Town. Hadad is in Homestead, not far from my office in Miami.”

  “What else did you learn?”

  “Something about delivery of dogs. Two of them. Belgian-Malinois. Not sure what to make of it.”

  “You never know with Kareef. Maybe he wants to counter Spirit’s expertise with some Belgian-Malinois of his own.”

  “In any case, Charley, Hadad sounds subservient to Kareef and needs to deliver the dogs soon, but he has lost them near Manatee Bay. Maybe you should come up here to have a look?”

  “Sounds good to me, Vicky. Hawk is back on duty with the Coast Guard, so Spirit and I will take the Harley and drive up to you. We’ll stop in Homestead and sniff around for any local news about lost dogs.”

  “Harley? Does Spirit wrap her paws around your waist?”

  “Silly girl, I added a sidecar last month. Spirit loves to ride in it, wind blowing in her face. We’ll be there in a few hours.”

  ~~~

  SPIRIT LEAPED INTO THE SIDECAR when I wheeled the Harley Forty-Eight out of the shed. “Hold on, Spirit, we need to do a check-down before we go anywhere.” Spirit calmed down and watched me go through the checklist. Twenty minutes later, we were barreling up Highway 1 towards Miami, Spirit’s tongue waving in the wind, her goggles protecting her eyes from any insects that flew in our path.

  TWO HOURS LATER, we reached the turn from the elevated highway and made a quick stop at the Buzzard’s Roost for a seafood platter for me and a raw burger for Spirit before turning west toward the mainland. Little Blackwater Sound was on our left. When we passed Pelican Cay RV park, I needed a pit stop for a pee break. Spirit hanged tight in the sidecar.

  I returned from the Shell Gas Station restroom to find Spirit pacing back and forth, pointing toward the dense bush on the northwestern side of Highway 1. She whined and cocked her head, listening. When she showed that posture, I knew not to ignore it. I let her loose and followed on the Harley. She ran at top speed up the highway for a half mile and made a sharp left turn into the bush. I had to dismount and follow on foot.

  ~~~

  I HEARD A FAMILIAR VOICE in the distance. More like a howl, a wail for help. Another Belgian-Malinois, in distress? Spirit charged ahead. I lost sight of her, but I followed the sound of the howling dog. When I finally caught up, Spirit was flying, jaws wide open. What she was aiming for shocked me, and I don’t shock easily. The snake must have been twelve feet long and a foot thick. It was a Burmese python. It looked like it sprang from the watering hole next to the path. A classic ambush behavior I had read about.

  There have been increased sightings of these foreign predators, especially here in the Everglades. One report showed a full-grown deer inside a python captured by the local game warden. The snake has adapted well and multiplying at an alarming rate. The reptile was tightening its coils around a Belgian-Malinois.

  The dog was fighting for its life, but it didn’t look good. Until the fearless, flying fur-missile named Spirit landed on it, jaws closing on the neck, right behind the head. She snapped and chomped, severing the head in a few seconds.

  The coils relaxed and the other dog wriggled free. He was a young Belgian-Malinois male, maybe two-years-old but still outweighed Spirit by about fifteen pounds. Obviously in pain, he walked gingerly up to Spirit, sniffed her and collapsed. I picked him up and carried him back to the Harley. There was enough room in the sidecar for both dogs. Spirit kept licking and nuzzling the male, trying to console him. She is fearless and courageous but also compassionate. I love that dog.

  I found a vet in Homestead. The dog had a few cracked ribs but otherwise in pretty good shape. The vet scanned the dog for an identity chip and found one. The registered owner was a man named Hadad. The dog’s name was Makeen, Arabic for strong. He must be, considering the pressure he survived while in the coils of the python. After bandaging him up, the vet gave me some meds to give him to keep him calm while he heals.

  “Thanks, doc. How long before I can take off the bandage?”

  “The dogs heal fast. One week?”

  “Have there been any other lost Belgian-Malinois sighted around town?

  “Funny you should ask. It is not a breed we see around here often but there was a call two days ago about a Belgian-Malinois attacking a soldier at Alabama Jacks restaurant about fifteen miles south.”

  “Isn’t Jacks on Card Sound Road in Key Largo?”

  “That’s the one.”

  “And that is also near the spot where I found this one.”

  “Where is the other dog?”

  “Animal control took it to the Camillus Rose animal shelter.”

  “Where is that?”

  “On the South Dixie Highway.”

  I paid the vet and carefully loaded the wounded pup into the sidecar along with Spirit. We continued up Highway 1 and stopped at the shelter. Maybe the other dog is still there. Vicky’s intercepted phone call between the Mullah and a guy named Hadad seems to fit this situation.

  When we got to the shelter, there was no Belgian-Malinois. A man claimed her yesterday. He proved he owned her when they scanned for a microchip and his name matched the driver’s license he carried. We continued to Miami to meet with Vicky. Maybe she can use DEA assets to locate the guy. Right now, it is the best lead to Katie that we have. It has been a week since she was abducted. I called ahead to let Vicky know what happened.

  VICKY’S NEW FRIEND

  CHARLEY LIFTED MAKEEN from the sidecar and sat him on the parking lot in the shade. The dog was a little woozy from the pain meds the vet gave him but otherwise seemed okay. Spirit hopped out of the sidecar and nuzzled Makeen. He warmed to her attention and licked her nose. The three entered the building where Vicky was waiting in the lobby.

  “He’s beautiful, Charley. I can’t believe this is one of the attack dogs Kareef intends to use against you and Spirit.”

  “Lucky for him, Spirit came along and killed that python. We’ve had many sightings of that type of snake proliferating in the Everglades. I’ll bet Makeen will not forget what Spirit did.”

  Makeen wagged his tail when Vicky approached him. There was an obvious connection occurring between them when he lowered his head, looking into her eyes. When she carefully patted his head, he pressed against her, soaking in the warmth and attention.

  Charley and Spirit joined the group hug. “I don’t think that is going to happen, Vicky. Look at this guy. He is a powerful animal but also seems quite docile when treated with a loving hand. I don’t imagine Kareef and this Hadad fellow use the same approach. Makeen will be our strongest ally. Kareef is in for a big surprise.”

  “I have more news, Charley. I have contacted the harbormaster at Morgan’s Bluff harbor, near Nicholls Town where we pinpointed the SAT phone call between Hadad and Kareef.”

  “Great. Do we have positive i.d. on Kareef and if Katie is with him?”

  “Not yet, but he confirmed the location of a Cigarette fast boat that fits our description of the b
oat Kareef used to flee to Cuba from the Keys last week.”

  “If Kareef is in Nicholls Town and Katie is with him, I have to go there. We may not need to follow Hadad to get to Kareef.”

  “Whoa, Charley. Slow down. We will have problems with Bahamian local authorities. We can’t just barge in there and kill someone, as much as Kareef deserves it.”

  “That may be true, Vick, but he will no doubt try to kill me, and I will claim self-defense.”

  Spirit looked at the two of them and barked sharply. The dog speaks fluent English. She wants a piece of the Mullah and will likely be his executioner if they ever meet again.

  Makeen flopped onto the floor. Spirit ran to his side.

  “He’s exhausted, Charley. Let’s take him to my place so he can rest. You don’t need to return to Marathon right away. We can take time to plot out what we do next.”

  “Okay, but we must move quickly. Kareef is unpredictable.”

  ~~~

  MAKEEN ENTERED VICKY’S apartment first, ran to the couch in the living room, and flopped down for a snooze. Vicky laughed, “Well I guess he doesn’t need a tour. Belgian-Malinois are so smart.”

  Spirit woofed agreement and joined Makeen, nuzzling against his neck. Both closed their eyes and went to sleep. Vicky smiled at the pair, then looked at Charley.

  “What?”

  “Do I have to spell it out, Charley? We haven’t had much time alone, lately.”

  It took Charley a second to figure it out. He wrapped his arms around Vicky and held her close.

  “I know you are worried about Katie and I am, too. But we need to keep a clear head. A hasty move could play right into the Mullah’s hand.”

  Charley sighed, “I guess you are right, Vick.” He kissed her gently and glanced at the dozing dogs, “I’ll take a cue from them. I need a nap. Now that I think about it, I’ve been on high alert ever since Katie disappeared a week ago. Haven’t eaten or slept very much.”

  “I can fix you something. How about steak and fries?”

  “My stomach just flipped and growled. Yes, to both.”

  Charley slid next to the dogs on the couch while Vicky went to the kitchen. She took four twelve-ounce sirloin steaks out of the refrigerator and popped some wrinkle fries into the microwave. “How about grilling the steak out on the balcony?”

  “Sounds like a plan.”

  Two minutes after the meat started sizzling on the grill both dogs hopped off the couch and ran to the balcony. Vicky turned four steaks and laughed. “I thought you guys would want some, too. Lucky I just went to the market and bought more than one piece of meat. You want yours rare, right?”

  The dogs barked once.

  “You have to wait a few minutes, now sit.”

  They both sat, ears perked up, noses quivering in anticipation. Charley, on the other hand, was fast asleep.

  “Here you go pups, nice and rare.” Three chomps and the steaks disappeared. Vicky plated a third, added fries and brought it inside. “Charley, wake up before your steak disappears.”

  “Wha? Oh, wow, that smells good.” He dove in, savoring every bite. “You know, Vick, this is the first meal I’ve had in four days besides a quick seafood platter at Buzzard's Roost on our way here. Mostly just grabbed power bars and water when I had a chance. Thank you. We should do this more often.”

  Vicky looked at Charley and sat next to him to eat her meal. Charley put an arm on her shoulder. “You are the best, Vicky. When we get Katie back, can you take some vacation time so we can be together for longer than a few hours?”

  “You know my job demands it, Charley. Anyway, I will try.”

  “Okay, let’s plan how we approach the Mullah without endangering Katie.”

  Charley looked out the apartment window at the view of the brilliant, blue-green water of Biscayne Bay and the Key with the same name. “He pulled out his iPhone and checked the map. “You said the Mullah’s calls with Hadad put him on Andros Island, in Nicholls Town?”

  “That’s right.”

  “It’s only about a hundred fifty miles from here.”

  “Yes, what are you thinking?”

  “In a HH-60J Jayhawk, Coast Guard chopper, we could be there in well under an hour. I wonder if Hawk could convince his Commander to free up one to make a rescue. Andros is well within the range of that bird.”

  “It could be defined, truthfully, as a rescue mission.”

  “I’m thinkin’ the same thing.”

  “Won’t hurt to try.”

  Charley dialed Hawk, “Hey, Bro, have you heard Vicky located the Mullah?”

  “I didn’t hear that. I heard she got intel from the NSA eavesdroppers that a SAT phone call was made between someone in the Miami area to someone on Andros island.”

  “Gee, Hawk, you are really well-informed. Yeah, that’s the story. Anyway, it’s got to be the Mullah. You know how he bugged out to Cuba and then abruptly left, right before Hurricane Dorian approached the U.S.”

  “Makes sense. What do you need? I’m still on Search & Rescue duty. Going back out in a few minutes. Still people stranded from the hurricane.”

  “Good timing. Where does your search route take you?”

  “East from Marathon to Miami.”

  “The chopper has a range of more than 800 miles, right?”

  “Affirmative, CJ. What are you asking?”

  “I want take the offensive. Now that we think we know where Kareef is and that Katie is likely to be with him, I want to surprise him. Shock and awe. Like our ops in Iraq and Afghanistan.”

  “I’ll check with my Commander and get back to you in twenty minutes.”

  Charley hung up and looked at Vicky, “I know it’s hasty, but it just might work. I’ll leave Makeen with you. He’s still weak from his ordeal. Spirit and I will drop in on the Mullah, with Hawk and his CG boys as backup.”

  “It’s crazy, Charley. But if Hawk agrees, I guess it’s a go.”

  Charley’s cell phone rang.

  “We’re good to go, CJ. Can you be ready for pickup in 45 minutes?”

  “No worries, Hawk. Spirit and I just had a nap and a steak meal. We’re rested and ready. I’ll be at the heliport here at Vicky’s apartment complex on Biscayne Bay. You know where it is.”

  Charley went out to his Harley and pulled his SIG Sauer 228 pistol from the saddle bag. It was the latest standard carry arm for the SEALs and Charley liked to keep current even in retirement. Although latest scuttlebutt is the SEALs are switching to the lighter Glock 19. Details, Charley trained with the SIG and that is what he owns. He also grabbed a box of 9mm shells.

  Spirit was waiting at the door when he came back, carrying her battle harness, a Kevlar vest with vid-cam. She knew something was up.

  “Here you go, girl. Time for battle. Katie needs us.”

  Spirit perked up at the sound of Katie’s name. She was wired for battle. Eager to fight bad guys.

  “We gotta go, Vick. Take care of Makeen.”

  She gave him a bear hug and planted a long kiss. “Be careful, Charley.” She hugged Spirit and whispered in her ear, “You take care of Charley, Spirit. And stay safe, too.”

  SURPRISE

  LESS THAN ONE HOUR after picking up Charley and Spirit at Vicky’s place, the chopper approached Andros Island. The NSA guys are amazing. They pinpointed the location of the SAT phone call and gave the GPS coordinates to Vicky. Charley handed them to Hawk and his pilot. To maintain a surprise attack, the chopper landed on a remote stretch of beach on the east side of the island, halfway between Morgan’s Bluff Marina and an RV park on the northeast corner of Nicholls Town. The call came from one of the RVs next to the beach. The plan was to run along the beach for the final mile from the drop point and approach from the back side. If Katie was there, Charley and Spirit will disable any guards and take her back to the drop point. Hawk will remain in contact throughout the rescue mission and be sure to return for a pick-up. Simple plan. Usually, simple plans get complicated, but it is still wise to ke
ep the initial plan simple. KISS is the military term used for Keep It Simple Stupid. Top priority was Katie’s safety. Charley will deal with the Mullah some other time.

  The pilot brought the bird down to a ten-foot height, hovering over the breakers along the beach. Before Charley and Spirit jumped from the Jayhawk, he double-checked the drop point location with Hawk. “I will radio you as soon as I have Katie on the beach. It should take us about fifteen minutes, depending on Katie’s condition and the beach sand we need to run.”

  “We’ll hang close by, over the water, so that should be plenty of time to be here when you arrive. We can’t actually land on the beach since we are technically not here.”

  “Roger that, Hawk. Come, Spirit, it’s go-time.”

  The Belgian-Malinois leaped out the side door into the shallows and took off at a fast run. Charley followed and called her to slow it down a little. The sand made a full speed run difficult. Difficult for Charley, that is, Spirit didn’t seem to notice.

  Less than ten minutes later, they found the RV park and hid in the sand dunes using the sea oats for cover. Spirit was on high alert, raised nose, searching for Katie’s scent. Charley scanned the area with binoculars. No sign of the Mullah or guards outside.

  “Let’s have a closer look, Spirit. Stay close and no heroics just yet, girl. We don’t know what booby-traps there might be inside or around the outside of that motorhome.”

  Spirit gave Charley a sideways glance, Sometimes I wonder why he needs to remind me. I know the drill. Trained hard to learn it, too. Come on, let’s do this. She sniffed the air and lifted her tail high. The tell she adopted when she was on odor, found a scent. She looked over at Charley, It’s Katie. Let’s roll.