Black Star Bay

by T C Miller

  “Yer welcome, ma’am…Anythin’ I can do fer the good ol’ FBI makes me happier ‘n a pig ‘n shi...Well, you know what I mean…Jest a law ‘bidin’ citizen of this here US of A.”

  Benson didn’t correct him about their agency and the group left the makeshift office with Harold following. They were almost to the outer door of the shop when Andy called out to them.

  “Hold on there a minute…Got sumpin’ else I recollected… They was some kinda RV magazine in that fellers truck folded back to a story ‘bout a fly-boy an’ his wife, an’ some shindig they was set to be at. Asked if he knowed ‘em…Alls he’d say was ‘better ’n he wanted to’, or sumpin’ like that.”

  “Again, thank you…You’ve been very helpful.”

  Benson nodded to Ben, “Can you get us back to our helicopter? We’d appreciate it.”

  “Yes, ma’am…Sure you don’t want something from the store?”

  “No, we need to get back as soon as possible.”

  Ben was fine with that. He glanced down at his watch and realized he would have more than enough time to drop them off and visit with Cheryl for a few minutes. Should get the old lady off my back.

  He left the agents at the helicopter, headed for the truck stop and smiled for the first time today as he turned toward Harold. “Turnin’ out to be one fine day.”

  The smile startled Harold and he struggled to come up with an answer. “Who do you think they work for?”

  “Don’t matter…They’re gone.”

  “I wonder why they’re after that Martin guy?”

  “Couldn’t care less.”

  “You want me to write up the report on it?”

  “Nothing to say, but sure.” He would leave Harold in the car writing up the report while he visited with Cheryl. Yes indeed…A fine day after all.

  ***

  CHAPTER 9

  BASE GYM

  MATHER AFB, CALIFORNIA “I see how it is, Dude. I leave town for a couple of weeks, and you get into the major crisis of the century without me.” Mark Hatfield directed his comments to Jake Thomas as he walked into the men’s locker room of the base gym.

  “Welcome back,” Jake replied. They offered each other a quick hug and slap on the back. “Was gonna ask the bad guys to wait ‘til you got back, but they were kinda on a tight schedule…Figured you’d understand.” Mark was his usual workout partner, and Jake was one of the few people he trusted to spot him when he hit the higher bench press weights. He stood six foot two, with closely-cropped blonde hair and a deep tan. Like Jake, he had his uniform shirts tailored to fit his broad shoulders and large biceps.

  He worked in the Base Legal Office—they met when Jake went in to have a will prepared. Both were looking for a dependable workout buddy and they became friends after a few sessions in the weight-room.

  They shared a love of martial arts, especially Hakkoryu Jujitsu, which Mark taught. Jake instantly took to the complex techniques of the style, which were especially suited to law enforcement work. He could control a person, even one who was under the influence of alcohol or drugs, without permanently hurting them or himself.

  “How was the trip?” He had flown home to Ohio for a family emergency.

  “Intense…Sixteen-year old brother got busted for grand theft auto…Hanging out with wannabe gang members and they talked him into a joy ride.”

  “The little guy you call ‘Spike’?

  “Not so little now…Almost as tall as me…just a skinnier version…Got his driver’s license and he’s getting around a little too much…if you know what I mean.”

  “You gonna be able to help him?”

  “Think so…Assistant District Attorney on the case knows Spike was along for the ride and sitting on the fence about the gang thing. Spike’ll either turn it around or end up in some serious stuff down the road.

  “Plus, I found a Dojo…Not Hakkoryu, but it’ll do…Senseis teaching are traditional when it comes to discipline. They’ll let him work off his class fees by cleaning up…Figure it’ll be a character builder. ADA agreed to a diversion program, since it’s his first offense…Record’ll be expunged if he stays clean ‘til he’s eighteen.”

  “Think he will?”

  “Sure hope so…Can’t afford any more unscheduled trips.”

  “Know what you mean…Job doesn’t pay enough.”

  “So, fill me in on what happened here.”

  Jake gave him a condensed, sanitized version of the attack on the Alert Pad while they changed into workout clothes and walked out to the weight room. He was his best friend, but the classified nature of the events limited what he could say.

  “Sounds like you handled it well, bro’…Lotta guys would’ve cracked under the pressure and screwed it all up. ”

  “Wasn’t thinking about what could happen to me…Just the thousands of lives that could’ve changed in a flash…So I followed our training and tried to stay cool.”

  “Sounds like it worked…and that’s what counts… Everybody’s alive and no damage…You gotta be happy with that…Also looks like it brought you closer to Joanna Davies…Can’t be all bad.”

  “We have a lot in common and she’s great to hang out with…Gonna start working out together. She’s studied martial arts and picks stuff up fast.”

  “Do I detect a serious crush coming on?”

  “Don’t know, bro’…Like I said, nice to be around and easy on the eyes…Don’t know if I want any more’n that…Besides, she’s engaged.”

  “Heard it’s not that deep…Canceled her last trip to see him, or so I was told…Maybe distance is making it fade.” And if I had the nerve, I’d ask her out.

  “Any rate…not gonna jump at it…Think I’ll just try for friends and see where that goes.”

  “Might just pay off.…Now, how ‘bout we throw some iron around?”

  OFFICE OF THE SENIOR AGENT-IN-CHARGE NSA WEST COAST REGIONAL OFFICE SAN FRANCISCO, CALIFORNIA

  “An Arnie Snell from Immigration on line one, sir.” John Banner sat his coffee mug with the National Security Agency logo down on the executive style desk. Melissa was in her fourth year as his private secretary and knew that he usually spent the first hour of his workday reviewing reports and preparing for the morning staff meeting. It must be something important for her to break that routine.

  “Busy at the moment…Say what he wants?” “No…just that he needed to talk to the Agent-In-Charge about a critical matter that won’t wait.”

  Let me guess, one of my people parked in a reserved spot.

  He took a deep breath, let it out slowly and picked up the telephone, “John Banner, how can I help you, Mr. Snell?” “It’s Agent Snell and maybe I can help you.”

  Less than ten words…and all attitude. Part of his job was to act as senior liaison with other agencies, so he tried to keep the annoyance he felt out of his reply, “Okay then, what do you have for me, Agent?”

  “You’re asking me to discuss it on an unsecure line?”

  If you’d made an appointment, we’d be talking in person. He learned early in life that some people did not employ his logical way of thinking. So, even though Snell rubbed him the wrong way twice, he tried to sound pleasant. There was a possibility—however remote—that Snell might have something worth hearing. “Do you want to make an appointment, or should I wait until you messenger it over?”

  “Not enough time…We need to meet ASAP.”

  John had the morning staff meeting in twenty minutes and a budget review conference call after that. “Look, I don’t want to sound standoffish, but my schedule is incredibly tight.”

  “I said ASAP…Let me give you a hint…Terrorism…and that’s all I can say.

  It’s enough. “You have my attention…Know where my office is?”

  “In the south bay area, I’ve been told. Give me the address and I’ll be there in less than an hour…unless you have a helipad.”

  “We do. I’ll have my secretary give you instructions for landing clearance.”
<
br />   Snell’s voice seemed a little less tense, “Good…I’ll be there in less than twenty minutes.”

  BASE GYM

  MATHER AFB, CALIFORNIA Jake walked over to an incline bench and started putting weight plates on a bar. Ready for a good workout…Take my mind off everything. Twenty minutes later, he wasn’t so sure. “Sorry, man…can’t seem to concentrate.”

  “Yeah, I noticed…She must be workin’ a number on you.” “That’s not it…Looks like I’m gonna be tapped to do some long TDYs.”

  “Where?”

  “Can’t say…Classified…Lots of travel…Might even have to leave for good.”

  “Seriously? I’d miss you in class…So would the white belts…Still, when duty calls…”

  “Actually, it’s a volunteer thing…Could’ve said no…But it’s something I believe in big time…Kind of work I like doing, and I’m pretty good at it.”

  “Dude, you’re good at whatever you do…So when do you start?”

  “Don’t know for sure…Soon.”

  “Keep me posted…Let me know what I can do to help. Wanna call it quits for today?

  “No…Now that’s off my mind, I feel better. Let’s do upper-body again… Didn’t exactly kill the first set.”

  “Truthfully, you sucked.”

  Jake laughed. “Oh yeah? Bet I can beat your sorry ass, even at my worst.”

  “Big talk, little man. Let’s run through it again…See who’s draggin’ tail when it’s done.”

  They walked back over to the equipment and were getting ready for another set when Joanna walked into the room. Jake looked up at the clock. “Four, already? Told her I’d work out with her…You mind?”

  “Not at all…Totally understand…I’d jump at the chance to work out with a fine looking woman like that.”

  OFFICE OF THE SENIOR AGENT-IN-CHARGE NSA WEST COAST REGIONAL OFFICE SAN FRANCISCO, CALIFORNIA

  John put Snell on hold and pressed the intercom. “Give Agent Snell landing clearance instructions for the helipad and postpone the staff meeting until after lunch.”

  “It’ll back up your schedule for the whole day.”

  “Can’t be helped.”

  He clicked off the intercom and sat back in his chair. There

  was nothing like starting the day with a little cloak and dagger suspense. His next call was to John Stobbe, lead Agent for building security. “Would you coordinate a chopper arrival with Melissa and bring a guy named Snell straight to my office.” He got an affirmative and hung up the phone.

  Chief Intelligence Analyst Mike Banks was next. “Mike,

  John Banner. Have you picked up any chatter about the Northern California coast involving terrorists or nuclear?” “Nothing out of the ordinary…There’s always talk about the Nevada Test Site…Scientists talking to each other and students researching papers. But I suppose you mean weapons?”

  “I do.”

  “There’s the Tahoe thing, but that seems to be under control. Every grassroots homegrown terrorist group would love to get their hands on a nuke, but nothing specific…Even the right-wing nuts in Idaho and Montana have been unusually quiet lately.”

  “Thanks…Figured you’d let me know if there was.”

  “Actually, I was gonna bring it up in the staff meeting… Been some cross-chatter between Coast Guard and Immigration about an anti-terrorist exercise up on the coast.”

  “Really? Details?”

  “Not enough for an action paper…Just some talk about a nighttime exercise…Which is strange…They usually avoid it…Too many rocky outcroppings and hidden sandbars to stumble on in the dark.”

  “Okay, thanks again…Let me know if anything pops up.”

  “Will do, Boss.”

  John knew his simple request would cause all of the analysts to go through their material with a fine-tooth comb.

  He swiveled his chair and looked out the window at the vast expanse of parking lot across the street that served the docks. Beyond that were the massive cranes used to unload ships. Like marsh birds of the same name that walk the mud flats.

  He stood up, took his suit coat off the hat rack and put it on, looked at the familiar surroundings and sighed. His position as AIC afforded him a spacious office with all the accouterments of success, including a comfortable couch and easy chair from which to watch a large-screen television set. It sat next to a refrigerator set into the built-in bookcase covering the wall opposite his desk. He stretched and returned to the reports on his desk. Snell should be here in less than twenty minutes.

  “Agent Snell to see you, sir.” Melissa escorted him into the office nineteen minutes later and offered a cup of coffee, which was politely declined. Banner glanced at the clock on the opposite wall and noted the time. Give him points for being punctual. After a firm handshake, they settled into two casual chairs set in front of a coffee table.

  Snell had lips that were a little too thin and pursed together like a closed vise. Deep furrows in his brow formed a permanent scowl. His blue Customs Enforcement uniform was crisp and neatly creased and black oxfords were polished to a mirror finish. Thinning gray hair was cut short and slicked back.

  “So, Agent Snell, or would you prefer Arnold?” “Agent Snell, if you don’t mind.”

  “Okay. What are you here to discuss?” He said it in the most

  cordial voice he could muster, hoping to relax the customs agent. Snell began what sounded like a formal briefing intended for an auditorium. “The Customs Service has dealt with a variety of threats to national security during the course of its existence. Through peace and war, our officers have maintained the highest state of vigilance…”

  Pompous ass. “Excuse me, Agent Snell…Don’t mean to be rude, but I have another meeting in twenty minutes…Could we cut to the chase?” The smile was still there, but a crisp edge to his voice made it clear he was about to reach the boiling point.

  “Well, I suppose so. I wanted to give you a complete background of the situation…Had no idea the clock was ticking so loudly.”

  “I appreciate your desire to be thorough, but why don’t you tell me what’s on your mind…I’ll jump right in if I have questions.”

  “Certainly. I recently assumed command of the BORTAC for this area…The Border Patrol Tactical Unit.”

  “I’ve coordinated with BORTAC on a number of joint cases…By the way, what happened to Bill Wilson? Didn’t realize he was no longer in charge.”

  “He retired rather suddenly.”

  No notice?…No retirement ceremony? “Was there a problem?”

  “I’m not at liberty to discuss it. An internal personnel matter…I’m sure you understand. I was yanked away from my office in Miami and sent here rather suddenly. Now, since you’re short on time, perhaps I should continue.”

  “Certainly.”

  “Shortly after arriving here, I discovered irregularities in BORTAC operations along the north coast.”

  “Irregularities…what kind?”

  “Can’t discuss everything, but there appear to be glaring omissions in search and seizure operations centered around a fishing village called Seawind Bay…Have you heard of it?”

  Jack smiled. “My family and I camped in the Russian River resort area near Guerneville a few years ago…Drove up Highway 1 to Point Arena and passed through Seawind Bay on the way…Scenery along the coast is beautiful. In fact, we had lunch at a little restaurant on the wharf there…Low in ambiance, but the stone crabs were fresh and delicious.”

  “Then you know how small the town is…Fewer than two hundred residents…Probably closer to the hundred mark for year-round people. Years ago, it was roughly divided between those who made their living from fishing and those who worked in the lumber industry.

  “Imported seafood cut the fishing business in half and environmentalists reduced timber work to a footnote. Still, the town somehow survived. A few stores, a small motel, two restaurants, a hardware store and two gas stations.

  “Most income is from touris
m, at least on the surface.” He leaned forward. “We received an anonymous tip a few months ago that hinted at smuggling in the area. To date, we’ve been unable to confirm it.”

  “Did you conduct surveillance?”

  Snell squirmed in the chair. “Of course…Sent an agent in to conduct discrete inquiries…Came up with nothing. As you know, a town that small is an especially hard nut to crack…Most of the residents grew up together and are suspicious of strangers. Then we sent in an undercover agent who had been working on a drug smuggling case that was at a standstill. He posed as an aging hippie with a worn-out RV that had broken down. He took a job washing dishes in one of the restaurants and started nosing around.”

  “What did he find?”

  “Afraid we’ll never know…He died in a fire in his RV two weeks ago, which is why I’m here. I’m accustomed to undercover operations in southern Florida…But, this is a different environment…I’m not familiar with local customs and I’m reluctant to rely entirely on intel within my office. There have been leaks of confidential information and an internal investigation came up blank. I know your agency has a broad mandate when it comes to terrorism…Thought we might compare notes.”

  Jack held up his hands and shrugged. “Sorry to hear about your agent and I understand your concern about a leak…But don’t see a connection to terrorism…Sounds like the most you have is a run-of-the-mill smuggling operation. Besides, what’s the basis for suspicion in your agents’ death? Accidents happen, especially in older RVs…Any reason to suspect foul play?”

  “On the surface, no…Looked like an unfortunate accident, so we let the local people handle the initial investigation. Autopsies in that county are done by a contract company that has a location in Ft. Bragg. The Mendocino County Sheriff is also the county coroner…So we waited until they finished.” “Results?”

  “Sheriff’s Coroner’s report said a faulty furnace in the RV caught fire and quickly engulfed the vehicle. The remains of a rather large mouse nest were found in the combustion chamber of the furnace, so they speculated it caught fire while our agent was sleeping in the back of the RV. The furnace was between the bedroom and the only escape door.”