Duty Bound (1995)

by Leonard B Scott

  "So they were both Caucasians?" Eli asked softly.

  Janice began sobbing. "They . . . they shot everybody; the noise was so terrible and I didn't know what to do. . . . After I saw the boat, I went into the cabin to put up the steaks we had put out to marinate. I heard Mike talking to them. Yes, they were white . . . I heard one talking . . . he had a Spanish accent, though. Later, after the shooting, I heard them talking. They were all speaking Spanish very fast. I heard three, maybe four voices, all Spanish. I I. . . I never saw any of their faces."

  Eli patted her hand. "You're doing very well, Janice.

  Now please close your eyes again and look through the viewfinder. When you saw the green bass boat, do you remember where you were on the river? Was there anything you remember that would help us find the cruiser?"

  Janice suddenly grabbed his hand in a viselike grip and sat up. "The island! We were close to an island. When the boat sank I floated out the cabin door and hid beneath the water. I used the seat cushions to hide my face. I . . . I drifted with the current and heard the boats going away. . . . I was afraid to stop drifting but my feet touched bottom. . . . I remember thanking God, and then I remember praying to God they wouldn't come back."

  "Janice, you said 'boats.' Does that mean you heard more than one?"

  Janice closed her eyes a moment and slowly nodded.

  "Yes, two boats. One started, then a closer one started. They went downriver the way I was drifting. Two boats."

  Eli motioned Ashley to take his place and stood. Leaning over, he patted the young woman's arm. "You've helped us quite a lot, Janice. Agent Sutton is going to sit here beside you now. In a few minutes you'll be taken by helicopter to a hospital and she'll be going with you. We'll notify your parents and make arrangements for them to come and see you.

  The worst is over."

  His jaw muscles working, Eli gave Janice a last look and strode out the door. Seconds later he stepped out on the front porch where the state troopers and Dan Murphy waited.

  Eli looked past the troopers; two young black men were seated on the ground in the shade of a rusted pickup.

  Trooper Vickery motioned to the men. "Those are the two who found the little gal."

  Dan stepped closer and spoke in a whisper. "They're probably gator poachers, Tan. Best tell 'em up front they're not in any trouble or you won't get much."

  Eli took in a breath and slowly let it out before speaking to Vickery. "Sir, please bring them over here and let's get started." He turned to the other troopers and pointed at the nearest one. "Sir, please take out your notepad and write down the following information. Once I'm finished giving you the info, call your headquarters and give it to them so they can begin the hunt."

  The trooper hurriedly pulled his small pad from his back pocket and took out a pen. "Ready," he said.

  Eli began pacing. "There were three, possibly four assailants. Two boats were used. Victim ID'd one as a bass boat, green. One assailant was tall, thin, and blond. All spoke Spanish. Assailants fled south down the river. Tell your headquarters this has all the appearances of a planned hit; we'll know more once the cruiser and bodies are recovered.

  Go ahead, sir, make that call now."

  Eli pointed at the next trooper, who already had his notebook out. "Sir, I want you to radio your headquarters and get four waterborne search teams and two dive teams here as quickly as possible. If need be, I'll provide you helicopter support to bring the crews in. We'll also need a recovery crew with whatever equipment is necessary to raise a sunken cruiser from the river. I'll need the M. E. here and also a team from your State Bureau of Investigation and a crime scene crew, along with a support unit and commo van. Tell your people to get on that for me and that you'll get back to them in a few minutes with where the command post will be located. Go ahead, sir, make the call."

  Eli turned to the two young black men. "Gentlemen, I am Agent Tanner of the FBI. I want to thank you on behalf of the young lady you found last night. You undoubtedly saved her life. I now need both of you to help me. The lady mentioned an island in the river. Is there an island anywhere near where you found her?"

  The two men looked at one another, then the one with a bulging jaw nodded. "Yes, sir, she was standin' on its banks when we shined her. It be the onlyiest island till ya gets downriver for purt' near four mile."

  Eli stepped closer to the young man. "We're going to be mounting a recovery and search operation and need to establish a command post as close to this island as we can.

  Can you tell me where the best place would be? It needs to have access for putting in boats and recovery equipment."

  Before either could speak, the old gray-haired black man who'd been rocking on the porch spoke up. "Ain't no place.

  Ain't no roads south of here . . . all backwater. Ya best make that post of y'alls over in the park just down the road a piece. Park's got ramps goin' inta the lake for them boats y'all be needin' to start searchin'."

  Wearing overalls and white shirt, the old man stood and motioned to the distant lake. "I been livin' here for over sixty years, Mr. Agent. I knows Dead Lake and the river up and down., I thinks ya best get in one of them whirlybirds and fly over the bar y'all is callin' an island. That sunk boat gonna be makin' a oil or gas slick sure as I'se standin' here.

  It a big boat?"

  Eli smiled; he had found a gem. He nodded. "Yes, sir, a cabin cruiser."

  "If them boys who hurt that child had 'em a depth finder on their boat they'd haveta sink that cruiser just north of the bar in the west channel . . . cuts deeper there. Anywhere else it'd be too shallow. Reckon ya know them gator, gar, and turtles ain't gonna leave much for ya if ya wait too long in findin"em?"

  Eli pushed the gruesome thoughts of what they would find out of his mind and patted the old man's shoulder. "Sir, have you ridden in a chopper before?"

  The old man shook his head with a twinkle in his eyes.

  "Don't reckon so, but if y'all needin' the best guide knowin' that river, y'all lookin' at him."

  Chapter 7.

  Lake Lanier, Georgia.

  Ted Faircloud stepped through the front door of the huge house and handed the old black woman his baseball cap.

  "Where is she, Halley?" he asked.

  "She in the great room watchin' TV with her dog, Mr.

  Teddy. She been waitin' a long time for ya. She been actin' real upset . . . didn't even have no dinner."

  "Fix her something, Halley, and I'll see that she eats.

  Bring it when it's ready, okay?"

  "Sure, Mr. Teddy, I'll fix her up somethin'."

  Seconds later Ted strode down the steps into the great room and was confronted by Baby, who held the tennis ball in his mouth. Ted gave the animal a quick pat and faced Bonita, who sat on the couch watching a big-screen television by the fireplace.

  Trembling, Bonita broke her gaze from the screen. "It's on CNN, Teddy . . . they're saying Senator Goodnight and his family are missing. . . . It's Carlos, Teddy, he's killed them."

  "What in the hell are you talkin' about?"

  Bonita rose and pointed at the television screen. "That's what I'm talking about. Look at it!"

  Ted shifted his gaze to the screen and shrugged. "Looks like an aerial view of the 'glades to me."

  "It's a CNN reporter in a helicopter showing what he sees of the search for the senator. Haven't you heard about it?"

  "I was lip in Dahlonega with my guys, takin' turns watchin' the bank. .. . Who you say is missin'?"

  Bonita shook her head as if dealing with a third grader.

  "Senator Goodnight, as in the same Senator Goodnight who was running the investigation of the Yona Group."

  "Ooh shit." Ted's knees suddenly weakened.

  "He knows, Teddy. Carlos must have found out about the investigation. Your mob friends didn't think this thing out, did they? They just wanted Carlos dead and didn't think about what else he could do. . . . Well, he's doing something, all right. My God, Teddy, Carlos will kil
l them all."

  Ted held up his hand. "Now wait a minute, are you sayin' you think Mendez is behind this?"

  Bonita glared at him. "You don't get it, do you? You're no better than your mob friends. All you cared about was taking out Carlos. You didn't know--nobody knew--what he was capable of. The investigation, Teddy! It's all about Senator Goodnight's investigation into the Yona Group.

  Carlos must be in deeper than anyone thought. Don't you see? The senator isn't missing . . . Carlos had him killed, and he'll have everyone else killed who knows he's involved with the group."

  Ted's eyes quickly came back into focus. "Come on, Mendez isn't dumb enough to order Goodnight killed.

  Christ'a'mighty, we're talkin' about a United States senator. Mendez would try other ways to convince the senator to back off."

  Bonita shook her head with a vacant stare. "I know him, Teddy. Oh God . . . oh God, I should have known this would happen."

  Ted tried to put his arm around her shoulder but she backed away from him like a frightened child. "Don't touch me! You and your friends caused this, and now I'm responsible, too. . . . Oh God, what have I done?"

  "Jesus, Bonita, get hold of yourself. The TV says the senator is missing. You're jumpin' to wild-ass conclusions.

  Take a deep breath and relax a minute."

  "Relax? Are you that stupid? I'll tell you what I'm going to do. I'm getting out of here right now!"

  Ted grabbed her arm. "You leave here, Mendez will find you and you'll be fish food. Okay, relax was the wrong word. Just calm down a minute and talk to me without takin' my head off. Tell me why you're so sure Mendez is behind this."

  Bonita sank onto the couch. "A month ago I overheard Carlos talking to Raul on the yacht. We were in bed sleeping when Raul came in and woke Carlos and said he had to talk to him. They talked in the passageway and didn't think I could hear them. Raul told Carlos their friend in the DEA had called and said DEA agents were going to pick up several people in the used-car business who were laundering money for Carlos. Carlos told Raul to eliminate the problem."

  Bonita raised her eyes to Ted. "I swear I thought Carlos meant for Raul to get rid of the money . . . but a day later I heard on the news that the owners of two big used-car lots had been murdered along with their families. Don't you see, Ted? Carlos must have thought the senator was another `problem.' "

  Ted sat down beside her. "Who is Raul?"

  "He's Carlos's brother-in-law . . . they call him the chief of staff. Carlos runs everything like he was in the army.

  Raul is really his do-it man. If Carlos wants something done, he tells Raul to do it."

  Ted looked into Bonita's eyes. "And you stayed with Mendez even though you knew he was ordering people whacked?"

  "I was too scared to leave him, Teddy. I tried, God knows I tried to leave. . . . I made up excuses about why I couldn't come over when he'd call me, but he wouldn't listen--he'd send one of his bodyguards over to get me."

  Ted's face hardened as he shifted his gaze to the television. "Maybe you're right . . . but just maybe the senator is lost. The only thing we can do is wait and hope they find him."

  "It's not just the senator, Ted. They say he was on a boat with his whole family."

  Ted closed his eyes. "Jesus."

  Baby began to growl, and seconds later Halley appeared at the top of the steps holding a tray. "I got some supper for you, Mrs. Stone."

  Ted got up and took the tray from the elderly woman.

  "Thanks, Halley. I'll make sure she eats."

  "Everything all right, Mr. Teddy?"

  "Yeah, Halley, everything is just fine."

  Wewahitchka, Florida It was almost nine P. M. when Ashley hopped down from the helicopter. In a park next to the lake just outside the once sleepy town of Wewahitchka, portable road construction lights had turned night into day around a huge collection of National Guard, state, and federal vehicles of every type and description. Like a wagon train, the trucks, vans, and cars encircled a lighted tent city where soldiers, state troopers, divers, crime scene technicians, and federal agents moved purposefully from the lakeshore to the tents. Despite the sticky heat, it looked as if it were snowing within the lighted area. But as Ashley drew closer she could see that the snowflakes were millions of moths and insects drawn to the huge lights. Walking past clusters of black families that had come to watch the only show in town, she showed her ID to a soldier and entered the new tent city. Gas generators hummed loudly and metal trays clanked where men sat eating near a tent. She stopped for a moment in awe of the power of her profession; Eli Tanner had been able to summon all she saw just by saying it was needed. Walking again, she saw men taking soggy equipment out of boats dragged up on the shore, while other men were replacing their diving gear in the back of a truck. Someone tapped her shoulder.

  "You're back, I see," Sergeant Major Dan Murphy said.

  Ashley smiled. "You don't know how happy I am to see you, Dan. This place is a madhouse. Where's Tanner? I have us a ride home--the chopper is heading back to Fort Benning in thirty minutes."

  Dan motioned toward the lake. "He should be comin' up from the site in a little while, but I don't think he'll be leavin' anytime soon. The guy you call the case agent in charge made him his assistant at the site. Come with me to the CP. I just ate and got to get back on duty."

  "Duty?" she asked, taking his arm as he walked toward a large tent.

  "Yeah, I've been helpin' coordinate the military-support side of this operation. Helluva note, Tan asks me to come along 'cause I know a little somethin' about the river, and I end up workin' my ass off as a damn REMF. Hell, I never got close to the river."

  Ashley knew better than to ask the old vet, but did anyway. "What's an REMF, Dan?"

  "Rear echelon motherfrigger . . . but it ain't really `frigger.' It's what we called the rear support weenies in da Nam. Us line dogs didn't care for 'em much 'cause they got three hots a day and slept in real beds. They got to go to the USO shows and play checkers with the Red Cross doughnut dollies while we were humpin' the boonies, snoopin' and poopin' for Charles."

  Ashley couldn't help but smile, and squeezed his arm.

  "So now it's Dan the REMF who's got three hots and a cot?"

  Dan slapped at her shoulder. "I shouldn't even be talkin' to ya. You damn FBI people don't know shit about takin' care of your own."

  "What are you talking about, Dan?"

  Murphy's eyes narrowed. "I'm talking about how they treated Tan. I talked to him while we were waitin' for the support units to get in. You should have told me, Ashley. I woulda busted him out . . . I swear I would have."

  Ashley felt a sinking sensation but held her eyes on him.

  "Dan. I don't know what you're talking about."

  Murphy looked at her a moment then took her arm and began walking again. "Come with me; I'll tell ya in the CP."

  Stepping over cables and wires, they entered a large open-sided tent that smelled of sweat, stale coffee, and wet canvas. The sergeant major approached a long table filled with communications equipment. Seated at the table wearing headsets or with telephones pressed to their ears were Army, state, and federal men who received, analyzed, and transmitted information to others. Murphy spoke to a young sergeant. "It goin' smooth?"

  The sergeant nodded. "Yes, Sergeant Major. They closed the search down a few minutes ago and will pick it up again tomorrow at oh-dark-thirty. The mess hall has been notified and we have a platoon erecting a couple more sleeping tents for the search teams."

  Murphy waved his hand. "You're doin' so good I'm gonna let ya keep doin' it for another half hour. I'm goin' to be talkin' to the lady."

  The sergeant grinned and bobbed his head. "Thank you, Sergeant Major."

  Shaking his head, Dan led Ashley to the corner of the tent, speaking out of the side of his mouth. "Young ones don't know when they're gettin' scammed."

  Overhead, Coleman lanterns hissed and cast yellow light on maps and charts taped to the tent frame as Murphy p
ulled up two folding chairs. He sat down heavily and shook his head as Ashley sat down on the other chair. "When they took Tan to Key West, it wasn't for any damn recovery leave; they took him to a damn loony bin."

  Ashley began to shake her head, but the sergeant major's eyes locked on her. "Some people in your Bureau thought he had a death wish. Others thought the case had pushed him over the edge. Jesus Christ, Ashley, after all he went through and all he did, that's how you people treat him? Ya lock him up in a loony bin and sic shrinks on him?"