Scone Island

by Frederick Ramsay

  “Bigger, actually. You have not kept up with your wasted shape since your holiday in the hospital.”

  “Wasted? Is that spelled with an i in the middle or do you mean the other one? Be careful how you answer.”

  “Whatever. Here, help me slide this parallel to the path.”

  They pulled and tugged and managed to build a passable fortress at the spot. Ike removed several items and placed them out of sight under the tree’s trunk. Ruth arranged the brush around the sides and front. She stepped back to inspect her work and then leaned in to reposition several branches.

  “It’s fine, Ruth. This is not an Ikebana show. The brush only has to provide cover. Aesthetics can wait for another day.”

  “Philistine.”

  “Yeah, yeah. Okay, let’s move on and find another.” They headed east toward the road leading to Cliffside.

  “How about the old watch tower for a lurk?”

  “Good idea, except for the stairs, or more accurately the ladder. Getting up and down could be a problem for you.” Ruth wanted to object, to declare her toughness and her unwillingness to admit that she really did hurt. Instead, she shrugged, relieved.

  “Anyway, it could easily end up being a trap,” Ike went on. “If we were caught up in it, getting out alive would be next to impossible. If we use it at all, it will be to track them in, assuming they come in from the ocean side.”

  “You think they will?”

  “At the moment it seems the most likely spot, but I’m taking no chances I’m wrong. We will need to set up some sort of watch on the beaches on the west side.”

  “How? There are only two of us.”

  “I am hoping Charlie finds us some volunteers. His people would be sacked if they were caught in a domestic, that is, continental US operation, but I’m hoping he’ll find something. In the meantime I plan to call Stone. If I can pry him loose from his boss, he could watch the beach. And he’d have his own night vision goggles.”

  “His own? We have them?”

  “We do. Archie was very thorough. We have the goggles, plenty of ammunition, a variety of firearms, and some exotic stuff I’m trying to remember how to deploy.”

  “Do I want to know what the exotic stuff is?”

  “Given your sense of outrage at all things that discharge lethal or dangerous projectiles, no, you do not.”

  “I must have been crazy to throw in with you. What was I thinking?”

  “Don’t beat yourself up. It was animal magnetism. You couldn’t help yourself.”

  “Right, I keep forgetting. Where will we place the next lurk?”

  “I think we need at least two more. If they come in at the stone steps, we start this game at Cliffside. After the first skirmish, assuming we don’t win on the first go-round, we will pull back. If one of the roads south is blocked, say West Road, we need to be able to use North Road. So, we put one north of the watch tower on West and one up from your house on North.”

  “Why don’t we hole up in the house and make them come to us.”

  “It’s a thought, but one of the exotic things in Archie’s bag was incendiaries. I have to assume they will be carrying something similar, and you do not want to be in one of these stick-and-shingle cottages if it catches fire.”

  “Good Lord, Ike. Is that for real? Do people really have stuff like that?”

  “We do. They might.”

  “Shit. We better have dinner soon, I’m thinking. ‘The condemned man ate a hearty meal.’ I am so glad you don’t do this every day. Listen, I’m putting another condition on this deal.”

  “Another? What was the first?”

  “Jeez, they forget so soon. Marriage, donkey brain. I said—”

  “I remember. I wanted to make sure you did, too. And exactly what are you adding to your original bit of extortion?”

  “If we get out of this alive—”

  “An outcome sincerely to be hoped.”

  “Shut up for a minute. If we survive this, you will never, not ever, allow Charlie Garland into our lives again nor will you allow yourself to be put in this kind of outhouse again ever.”

  “That is a lot of ‘evers,’ but okay. It will break Charlie’s heart; besides, this is not his doing, as you well know. This particular creature crawled up out of the black lagoon that is my past. Charlie only wanted to give me a heads-up.”

  “Yeah, I know. Bully for him. Nevertheless, I’m not willing to live like the heroine in a Bruce Willis movie. When we return to the wilds of Virginia, no guns, no men intent on dispatching you and yours, no incendiaries, rocket launchers, or weapons of mass destruction, got it?”

  “Got it. Let’s have a quick look at that watch tower.”

  They walked the hundred yards further along the path that veered north and then turned right to the old military site. Two long buildings sat side by side, and a smaller one at right angles formed a rough quadrangle to the west of the watchtower. Ike imagined young men in army brown—the brown shoe army, they called themselves—assembled in squads and platoons. Morning roll call. He guessed the smaller building served as the mess hall, the larger ones as barracks.

  “The buildings look in pretty good shape, considering.”

  “I think the island’s Residents Council, or whatever it’s called, has permission to use them and they have cookouts and picnics here in the summer. They maintain them, anyway.”

  They passed a playground which featured a very old, brightly painted Jeep as its focal point.

  “What is an orange jeep doing on the island?”

  “I guess the military left it after the war. It would cost a fortune to ship it back to the mainland. When the residents built the playground, they incorporated it. The artillery pieces were still in place for a while, too. I think they just spiked them and left. The barrels were filled with cement.”

  “Were? I don’t see any cannons.”

  “They’re gone. In the early seventies, when the antiwar protests were in full swing, some of the island’s more liberal-minded and anti-military residents shoved them over the cliff into the ocean. If you look over the side at low tide you can still see them. All rusted and falling apart, though.”

  Ike shook his head. “Those were sad days, a nation divided and its young men and women, reluctant soldiers for the most part, forgotten, disparaged, and lost in the din of rhetoric and recrimination from people who should have known better.”

  He walked to the tower and stood staring at its door, secured with a cheap combination lock.

  “Looks like you’re out of luck if you want to climb up to the top, Ike. That is unless you can crack the combination.”

  “Not necessary. All I need is a soda can, a pair of scissors and five minutes.”

  “More spycraft?”

  “Nope, only what every kid who regularly checks out U-tube knows. Watch and learn.”

  He found an aluminum can in the grass and using his pocket knife, cut a rectangle from its side. He made four more quick cuts, folded the metal, and wrapped the result around the shackle and pressed it down. The lock popped open.

  “That’s amazing. You learned that from the Internet?”

  “Yep. When we do a drug search at a school, that’s why we are reluctant to accuse a kid of possession just because the weed is in his locker. Anybody who knows this trick could have put it there.”

  “I need to talk to my security people when I go back to work. Oops, I mean if I go back to work.”

  “I admire your confidence in our chances of survival. Okay, look, it’s getting too dark to do anything else today. First thing in the morning, we’ll finish up and then set the dogs loose. It’s time to call Charlie and then have some dinner, such as it is. Then you will see to it that ‘the condemned man’ has his demonstration, as promised.”

  “You never give up, do you?”

  “Never.”

  “And you promise, no more living on the edge?”

  “Cross my heart—”

  “And hope to di
e…not the sort of reassurance I was hoping to hear. What now?”

  “Well, while we are sitting around wondering if there will be a wedding to buy me a gift for, crank up your computer and find out how you purchase Pine Tree Island.”

  “You’re kidding. You were serious about that?”

  “Absolutely.”

  “And you want it, why?”

  “Thinking about a comfortable retirement.”

  “On Pine Tree Island?”

  “In a manner of speaking, yes.”

  “You’re the idiot this time…and don’t even say it.”

  Chapter Thirty-five

  Charlie glanced at the square of rumpled tissue paper in front of him. It seemed a simple enough message. He was to wait five minutes and then drive north out of town. It would be best if he went over the speed limit a little. That was all.

  He nodded to the cop as he walked by on his way to the parking lot. Five minutes it would be. His phone buzzed—Ike, bad timing.

  “Ike, I can’t talk very long. I may be on to something. The investigation into Bernstein’s death is beginning to smell. I’ll know if there is anything useful to report in about five.”

  “Good, but understand, at the moment I am far more concerned with what’s happening here. Can Santa find me some elves? I need help. There is too much shore line for me to watch, especially at night. Anything would help. Oh, and tell me about Frank Barstow.”

  “Sorry, who?”

  “Last fall, you used that name to flim-flam some Chicago lawyers. I want to know if you’d been busy up here.”

  “Me? On that island?”

  “That is the question, yes.”

  “Then the answer is, no. Why?”

  “I’m having a hard time getting my mind around the possibility that the agency allowed a rogue and rambler like Archie to wander around loose with no adult supervision, if you follow me.”

  “And?”

  “And that means, if I’m correct, someone is already on the island assigned to watch our boy and make sure he stayed out of trouble.”

  “And you’re guessing it was Barstow, and because that was a moniker I once used you thought that I might have…what were you thinking?”

  “That the name is too much of a coincidence, so I was hoping you could tell me.”

  “I would if I could. Like it or not, coincidence wins in this case and beyond that I cannot say. The boss is playing this one very close to his chest. At least he’s not letting me see his hand, so I don’t know if there is someone from our shop up there or not. But, it’s hard to believe the director didn’t have someone on the island.”

  “Can you find out?”

  “As you know, I am in the doghouse so, no. But if there is someone, wouldn’t he have deployed him or her by now?”

  “How would he do that, since he doesn’t know I’m here and I am not about to tell him—not yet, anyway.”

  “Then as far as local help goes, you’re screwed.” Ike remained silent for a moment. “Ike? Are you still there?”

  “The director came to the CIA from the Pentagon, didn’t he?”

  “Yes. He had a background in intel. Did you remember something about any of the ops he shared with you?”

  “Nothing beyond what you told me, but at the moment I’m more interested in his subsequent life in the E Ring.”

  “Again, right now I can’t help you with that either. Ike, I have to go,”

  “I understand. Go chase your lead. Ruth and I are done for the night. When we’re ready, I will call you on the open phone and we will discuss the fact that I can’t tell you where I am, but that I’m on special assignment investigating Archie’s death. That will get our bad boys on a plane to Maine within the hour.”

  “Very neat. Let them believe they are smart. Okay, I’m off to play state investigator. Good luck.”

  Charlie hung up and left the diner. He had to stop for a second to get his bearings. Which way was north? It would be very embarrassing to tear off south or west, receive a speeding ticket from some other cop, and miss his chance to gather the information the young man wanted to give him. His rental had a compass built into its navigating system. A mile and a half out of town, cruising along at five miles an hour over the limit, he saw the red and blue flashing lights in his rear view mirror. He pulled over and waited.

  “This had better be good,” he muttered and waited for the young cop to reach his rolled down window.

  “You know you were exceeding the limit,” the cop said.

  “Yes. I’m afraid I must have been thinking about something else. You know how it is. I had made an inquiry at your police station and received some curious news about a friend of mine.”

  “Curious?” The cop had his citation book out and started to write. “You do know I will have to write this up.”

  “Of course. The law is the law. Is there anything else you might have to tell me? Caution me, perhaps?”

  “You were asking about a climber named Bernstein. License and registration, please.” Charlie handed him the rental car’s papers and the license he’d had made up for the occasion.

  “So what is your interest—the state’s interest in a climbing accident?”

  Charlie decided to take a chance. This cop desperately wanted to tell him something and needed a nudge. “We’re not sure he fell.”

  The cop started. “No? You think he had help off the cliff?”

  “Corporal, we are in the middle of nowhere because you asked me to meet you out here. You want to tell me something but are hesitating. Why is that?”

  “I wondered, but the chief said accident and the ME’s office didn’t object, so I didn’t know for sure, but like I said, I had some doubts, is all.”

  “Why?”

  “Two reasons. First, your climber was wearing a gold and steel Rolex watch. What kind of idiot scales a stone wall wearing a watch that is worth a down payment on a house?”

  “Point taken. From what we know about the man, he was not an idiot. He was an experienced climber.”

  “Right, that’s the second thing. He had on slacks and a sweater. You don’t climb in picnic togs. Also no boots, no pitons or bashies in a bag, no rope, nothing.”

  “Certainly that is suspicious, but don’t some climbers like to climb solo? Crack climbing I think it’s called?”

  “Maybe, but if he were going up that particular face free solo he’d have had a bummer at least. I mean, who makes it up near to the top, high enough so the fall kills him, and still has clean slacks and no scrapes or damage to his nails much less to his hands and, oh yeah, he was wearing a ring. Climbers, free climbers especially, would never start up with a class ring on their finger.”

  “No. So, what do you think happened?”

  “No clue. That’s all I know, but that’s not why I wanted to meet you.”

  “No? Why then?” The air had turned cold and now Charlie was sure he smelled the conifers as well as the possibility of snow. The cop had a jacket with fake fur collar. Charlie had on a sports coat and tie. If they didn’t finish their interview soon, one of them would soon freeze to death, and the cop didn’t look like the one.

  “Like I said, the man wore a Rolex and had a pistol in his duffel.”

  “A pistol? What sort?”

  “Look, I spent a tour or two in the desert, you know, MPs. I’d swear it was government issue.”

  “And?”

  “Well, the Rolex is now on the chief’s wrist and the M-11, that’s a 9 mm Sig Sauer—”

  “I know what it is. You didn’t happen to get the serial number by any chance?”

  The cop reached in the window and retrieved Charlie’s citation. He turned it over, wrote on the back, and returned it to Charlie. “What happens now?”

  “Where is the gun?”

  “Lieutenant’s got it.”

  “You have a very dysfunctional police department.”

  “You could say that.”

  “Okay, here’s what happens now.
You hop back in your cruiser and forget we ever had this conversation. Rolexes are registered by number. Your chief is in possession of stolen property. Unless he can produce a bill of sale with Neil Bernstein’s signature on it, he is done as a cop. Your lieutenant is packing an unauthorized bit of government property. He will not be able to explain that away and will be looking for a new career as well.”

  “You’re from the state. How do I know the big shots back in the attorney general’s office won’t sweep this under the rug like they do everything else that goes on out here?”

  “Listen carefully. Under the rubric that we never had this conversation, I am not from the state, I am federal. The murdered man was a colleague. He died in a federal park. Your two bozo cops interfered with an investigation of a felony on federal property, as it happens. That makes it a federal case all round. We done here? I’m freezing.”

  “Yeah…no, wait. There’s one more thing. I don’t know if it’s important, but I saw evidence that a chopper, a big one, had been in the mountain meadow about that time. Does that mean anything to you?”

  Charlie’s teeth had begun to chatter. “It means, if you were to fall out of a helicopter rather than off a cliff face, you wouldn’t scrape your knees, muss up your slacks, and you’d still be in possession of your Rolex and class ring. That’s good work, corporal. Thank you. You will not be hearing from me again, but you can expect a few stony-faced federal types in your neighborhood in the very near future.”

  Charlie rolled up the window and put the heater on high. He was almost warm by the time he arrived back at his off-the-books motel.

  ***

  Eden Saint Clare decided she’d had it. It was one thing to have to put up with lawyers and a disingenuous sister-in law, quite another to sit twiddling her thumbs in Chicago wondering what the hell her daughter was up to in Aunt Margaret’s cottage. And then, to top it off, that bit of bizarre advice from Charlie Garland? What was that all about? She should go hide or ask for twenty-four-seven protection back home? Why? Someone must have stepped into a pile of you-know-what, but who and where? Well, she’d find out, and the hell with Garland and his pals who played hide-and-seek on the taxpayer’s dime. After all she’d spotted the jerk who’d been shadowing her. Okay, not right away, but eventually. The idiot probably thought because she was a woman she wouldn’t notice and became careless. Now he’d gone.