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Black Star Bay

Page 14

by T C Miller


  The young woman’s face turned as pale as fine china. “Look, ma’am, we really don’t want any trouble…My dad just gets so frustrated over what’s going on in town he went and made that call…Didn’t really mean anything by it, honest…Oh, my gosh, is he in some kind of trouble?”

  “Look, Miss…”

  “Call me Licia…everybody does.”

  “Okay, Licia. We’re not here to cause your father any problems…We only want to ask him a few questions…Should we go on down to the beach?”

  “No, you don’t have to…It’s a long climb down a lot of stairs. Hang on a minute.” She picked up a compact two-way radio and pressed the mike button. “Dad, can you come up to the office?”

  “I’m trying to get this gate fixed, baby…Is it something you can handle?”

  “Not really, some people want to talk to you.”

  “About what?”

  “Greg Peters…But they say you’re not in trouble, or anything.”

  “I thought I said don’t use his name on the radio…They might be listening. I’ll put up my tools and be right there.”

  Licia turned back to Bart and Nora. “Can I get you guys a cup of coffee, or something?”

  “That’d be nice. I take mine black and Nora drinks tea, if you have any.”

  “Sure do. Best continental breakfast in town. We’re proud of that.”

  “I’m sure you and your mother do a great job.”

  “Not my mom…She died five years ago…Cancer.”

  “I’m so sorry, bless yourheart…I just figured…”

  “It’s okay…I miss her more than ever, but kinda used to her being gone. Well, not entirely…that’s why we try to run the place her way.”

  It was Nora’s turn to step in. “And you’re doing a wonderful job…One of the nicest motels I’ve seen.”

  “Thank you, ma’am. Hasn’t been easy, what with Greg Peters running off most of the summer people.”

  “Why would he do that? And how has he run them off?”

  “Look, I’m probably saying way too much…I should wait ‘til my Dad gets here, okay? I’ll get those drinks for you now. Would you like it hot or iced? The tea, I mean, of course…You wouldn’t want cold coffee…or would you?”

  “No, I do like my coffee hot.”

  “Iced tea’s fine. We’ll sit over there and wait.” They moved toward the sofa as Licia walked to a breakfast nook on the other side of the office. Nora looked up at Bart and whispered, “You see the look on her face?”

  “I did…Pretty obvious she doesn’t like this Peters…Be interesting to see what they say about him.”

  They sat quietly on the comfortable sofa and waited for Doug Martinez. The only sound came from the steady ticking of an old-fashioned mantel clock on a side table.

  PETERS HARDWARE STORE OFFICE “My good friend, is wonderful to see you and share old times…Still, I think maybe is time to talk about business we share, no?” The wooden office chair creaked as the giant Russian leaned back and waited for an answer.

  “Yes, is time to talk business.” Gregori leaned across the desk until he was no more than six inches from Rick’s face. “I have spoken with friends who tell me stories of mob criminals who search for a certain citizen in most urgent way. Other stories concern glorious action against capitalist swine who run this corrupt country…How they pay a fortune for him to give up thermonuclear weapons and he vanishes from military base with money and weapons. Are you this citizen?”

  “I am. Mutual friends say you are best person to help me escape.”

  “I would be honored to offer humble advice and assistance…for a fee.”

  “Of course. We are friends, but also businessmen. How would you conduct such an operation?”

  Gregori leaned back in his chair and when he spread his arms wide, looked like he could touch opposite walls in the tiny office. The broad grin that spread across his wide face gave him the appearance of a Russian Cheshire Cat. “By good fortune, I own two oceangoing vessels capable of doing this. My crews are former members of secret police agencies trained in necessary skills. They will give their very lives to protect secret information…However, my friend, such skill and dedication comes at considerable cost.”

  “Reward must be adequate for risk in any venture. How much do you suppose an operation of this sort would cost?”

  “Our mutual friends tell me fifty million dollars and payment of expenses would be fair price.”

  “I have also talked with Commission…They tell me forty million dollars would be even more reasonable.”

  “I see. Perhaps the difference could be shared…Do you suppose forty-five million would be agreeable?”

  “Yes. With half transferred to offshore account now and balance upon safe delivery.”

  “Expenses should be added to advance payment and ten per cent fee paid to Commission.”

  “How much do you suppose these expenses might be?

  “Five million dollars should be adequate.”

  Rick smiled. Brings it right back to fifty million. It was a small price to pay, since he had over seven hundred and fifty million dollars. “Those terms are quite agreeable.” Especially with security agents breathing down my neck. “So, my friend, we have deal?”

  “We have deal…Let’s drink to good fortune.”

  “To good fortune.”

  SEAWIND MOTEL

  SEAWIND BAY, CALIFORNIA

  “I understand the two of you are here to ask me about some anonymous call?” Bart and Nora sprang off the sofa and turned to face the owner of the voice that was challenging them. He had silently entered the lobby from a door next to the registration desk. A fit man in his late forties who moved with a spring in his step, he had salt and pepper hair and a strong chin beneath brown eyes that were seperated by a patrician nose. His olive-colored face had a slightly weathered look with cheeks that were only slightly rosy after what must have been an arduous climb up the stairs from the beach.

  He wiped his hands on a shop rag before shaking with Bart. “I’m Doug Martinez, what can I do for you?”

  The deep baritone voice held just a hint that he also spoke fluent Spanish. His white golf shirt, neatly pressed dark gray chinos and loafers suggested he was heading into the clubhouse for a drink, instead of being in the middle of routine maintenance. His posture was erect and had the air of an aristocrat or a movie star. The smell of a manly cologne surrounded him like invisible armor.

  “Yes sir, I’m Bart Winfield, and this is my wife, Nora. We represent a security agency that tracked an anonymous call made from your motel…Thought you might have some idea who made it.”

  They sat in the conversation area—Martinez in one of the overstuffed chairs and Bart and Nora back on the sofa. “Mind if I call you Bart?”

  “Not at all.”

  “Good, and please call me Doug…Mister Martinez was my father, God rest his soul. To answer your question, we have eighteen rooms here and an automatic switchboard…The call could have come from any of them. May I ask the subject?”

  “Somebody was concerned about possible criminal activities.”

  “In Seawind Bay? Seems a little odd, don’t you think? It’s just a sleepy little fishing village. We do have an occasional break-in…And every once and a while a drunken fight down at Bosun’s Bar…Usually over a woman or a pool game. But that’s about it…Nothing that would interest a federal agency.”

  “I didn’t say a federal agency.”

  Martinez ran his tongue over his lips, looked away, and stammered. “What I meant to say was, I heard security and figured...All right, I give up…Yes, I made the call…Am I in trouble or something?”

  “Don’t think so. We want to find out if there’s anything illegal going on since other events indicate something might not be quite right.”

  “Like what?”

  “Sorry…Not at liberty to discuss it.”

  “Sure, I understand. Yes, I’m concerned about some accidents and strange sighti
ngs.”

  “Strange sightings?”

  “Unexplained lights and noises…Rumors of satanic rituals deep in the redwoods…Done a pretty good job of scaring summer people and tourists away…Very bad for business.”

  “Have the local police checked it out?”

  “Don’t have much in the way of police protection. We’re not incorporated, so our coverage comes from the sheriff’s office in Point Arena. About the only time they send somebody down is if there’s a break-in at one of the summer homes…to do a report for the insurance company. We did have a part-time officer, but he quit all of a sudden…Left us high and dry.”

  “Why?”

  “No way of knowing. Dropped his stuff off at the sheriff’s office in Point Arena one day and left…Said he was heading up to Portland to visit his sister and wouldn’t be back. Gave up the room he was renting and lost his deposit…Mumbled something about leaving for health reasons.”

  “Did he have any health problems you were aware of?”

  “None. Healthy as a horse and never called in sick…Not even so much as the flu.”

  “Does seem strange. What else bothers you about this Peters?”

  “My daughter asked me not to tell anybody…She’s embarrassed, but something needs to be done about some of the men who work for him.”

  “Can you be a little more specific?”

  “That’s why I sent her down to check on the maid, so we can talk. About a month ago she goes to the hardware store to pick up some toilet repair kits…Water’s got a lot of minerals…hard on the plumbing. Anyway, long story short, she gets the parts and is going to leave, when one of the guys corners her…Says he won’t let her pass until she gives him a kiss. Smells liquor on his breath and he’s slurring his words…Then he grabs her arm and scares the daylights out of her.”

  “What about the other people working there, didn’t they step in?”

  “Sort of. One of the other guys tells him to leave her alone and the guy turns on him…Tells him he’s in charge, just follow orders…Like he’s in the army or something.”

  “So what happened?”

  “Turns out okay…The big guy starts yelling at the other guy to mind his own business and Licia slips away…Comes right back here…Shaking all over when she walks in the door. I was going to go down there and give him a piece of my mind, but she talks me out of it…Says it might make things worse…Guy hadn’t stepped out of line before…It’s probably the alcohol talking. I was in the Marines and know how to handle myself, but don’t want to embarrass her, so I don’t go down there…Next day, I give Peters a piece of my mind.”

  “Did it work?”

  “Guess so. She sees the guy on the street a couple days later sportin’ one helluva shiner…Apologizes, though she feels like he doesn’t really mean it.”

  “Sounds like an isolated incident.”

  “That’s just it…It’s a lot of little things that don’t seem like much. But you put them all together and they start to add up.” “Like what?”

  “Like the cannery…Thinks people don’t notice when he buys it…Pays cash, then goes out and buys a couple trawlers.”

  “Maybe he thinks there’s money in fishing.”

  “Right…and I’m the Pope. Lived here all my life and I’m telling you right now, there’s no money in it. If you ask me, he’s interested in something other than fishing.”

  “Like what?”

  “Don’t know for sure…Could be some kind of smuggling.”

  “Smuggling what?”

  “Who knows? Lots of drugs came through here back in the eighties. Most of them got put out of business by the DEA or found easier ways to get their stuff in.”

  “What do you think he’s up to?”

  “Could be anything. I’ve been renting out a lot of rooms to truck drivers…Some on a regular basis.”

  “What’s strange about that? Must be a certain amount of cargo moving through the area.”

  “Not really. Big rigs go up Highway 101, since it’s limited access. Long distance drivers use Interstate 5…A lot quicker and not so dangerous…Fewer curves and drop-offs. Besides, these are just local delivery trucks.”

  “Can you tell where they’re from?

  “Most of the credit cards say “McGlothlin Cartage, San Jose”…Only a DOT number on the trucks…no logos, or signs. Back doors are double-locked and have alarm systems. Guy backing out of a spot bumped one a while back and it was like the Fourth of July…Lights and sirens out the wazoo. Driver comes running out of his room waving a pistol. Damned near scared the old guy in the car half to death…Told the driver I didn’t appreciate him pulling a gun on my guests. Said he was sorry, but had to protect his load.”

  “Any idea where these trucks are headed?”

  “They’re not much into small talk, but I pick up a little here and there. They head north and come back through a few hours later. With unloading time and paperwork, can’t be going very far…Not even to Point Arena.”

  “So, what’s up that way?”

  “Nothing, except the old cannery.”

  “Interesting. Anything else you can think of we should know?”

  “A few other incidents…Not sure they’re connected to Peters, though.” He shifted in his seat. “So what happens now?”

  Bart stood and Nora followed his lead. “We’ll pass the information on. You remember anything else, call this number twenty-four hours a day.” He handed him a business card with a phone number on it and nothing else. “They’ll answer with Star Logistics…Ask for Mister Levinson…He’ll be on vacation, so tell them you want to speak with John Banner…They’ll put you through…Got it?”

  “Ask for Levinson and then Banner, right?”

  “Exactly. You’ve been very helpful and we appreciate it.”

  The front bell chimed as they turned to leave, announcing the arrival of Jake Thomas and Joanna Davies. Dressed in casual clothes and pulling luggage on wheels behind them, they looked like any average couple driving up the coast. They smiled at Bart and Nora as they passed them—said a polite hello and approached the registration desk.

  Doug Martinez stepped behind the counter and greeted them with the same smile he used for all guests, “Afternoon, you folks have a reservation?”

  “No. Is that a problem?”

  “Not at all, sir. If you’ll fill out this form we’ll get you a room. What brings you to our little town?”

  “We’re newlyweds driving down to San Francisco to catch a plane to Hawaii. I’m Jake Thomas, and this...”

  “I’m his wife, Joanna,” she gushed.

  “Really like saying that, don’t you, Sugar?”

  “Well, it’s just so new…but yes, I do…Oops, I said ‘I do’ again, just like the ceremony.”

  Doug smiled. “Congratulations, folks. Let’s get you settled into the Honeymoon Suite…Has a whirlpool tub and California King waterbed. How long will you be staying with us?”

  “Don’t have to be at the airport ‘til next Monday, so we’re gonna sight-see a little on the way…At least a couple of days.”

  “I’ll leave the departure date open…Just let us know what day you’re leaving, and checkout time is noon.”

  Bart and Nora left the lobby and headed for the bus. Bart went over a mental checklist. Pieces are starting to come together.

  ***

  CHAPTER 17

  SEAWIND MOTEL BRIDAL SUITE

  “I’ll be out in a minute…I’m unpacking my makeup,” Joanna called from the bathroom. Jake sat on the edge of a bed that seemed like it could cover a football field. His hands were folded in front of him as he stared at a fixed spot on the carpet. The check-in process at the front desk had gone smoothly enough and he made a big show of picking her up and carrying her across the threshold of the Honeymoon Suite in case anyone was watching. She played the role of a shy but eager bride to perfection. They swept the room for bugs and found none.

  If he took his eyes off the fixed spot on the c
arpet, he might have noticed her watching him in the vanity mirror. If he glanced up for even an instant, he might have seen her smile at him. Instead, he maintained his gaze on the part of the carpet pattern that looped back on itself in an endless dance of golden thread. Undercover is different this time.

  “You okay?” Joanna stopped unpacking and turned to face him.

  “Going over the cover story to make sure I didn’t missed anything.”

  “Is being married to me that tough?” she said with an impish grin that looked a lot like flirting.

  “Actually, that’s been the easiest part.” He watched her reaction to the remark, but couldn’t tell what she might be thinking. Falling in love with her’s a bad idea…Remember the Philippines.

  It was years ago, while on a highly-classified mission for the NSA in the jungle. A husband and wife team, Carlos and Maria from a local village were assigned to guide him to the site of a black ops helicopter crash. They destroyed the classified equipment and documents on board by pouring sulfuric acid on them from custom-made ceramic-lined canteens. It would have been quicker to destroy the wreckage with explosives, but the noise would have alerted communist rebels and limited their escape time.

  They were preparing to leave after collecting dog tags and other identifying material from the dead crew, when an enemy patrol stumbled upon them and started firing AK-47s. Maria took a lethal burst of fire to the face in the first few seconds and faced imminent death. Her husband steadfastly ignored Jake’s pleas to leave his mortally-wounded partner behind.

  The enemy patrol was rapidly advancing, and mission protocol demanded that no witnesses be left behind to undergo interrogation. He told the husband in Tagalog he couldn’t let him live if he chose to stay.

  Carlos looked Jake in the eyes and replied that he understood. He stood before Jake could take action and calmly walked toward the patrol while firing his weapon. He was hit by a dozen rounds and died before he hit the ground.

  Jake blended into the cover of the jungle and escaped unscathed. He remembered the determined look on the villager’s face and knew that he would never leave a soul-mate behind either.

 

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