Briggs shook his head, smiling. “Yeah, whatever.”
“Did your father speak much about the war?” Check asked suddenly.
Briggs took a moment to answer. “No. He never tried to influence me on whether I joined the service or not. It has taken this long for me to realize that he was the happiest and most content when he was here in this wonderful place that he called home, that I call home.” Briggs took another gulp of his beer. “So your offer of a fixed retirement is very enticing at this point in my life.”
Check peered into the water at the edge of the boat and nodded. “Well, that’s good for me too.”
“I was looking forward to the end of my enlistment,” Briggs continued. “I was even thinking about going to college, so the idea of paid retirement right here and now . . . well, I like the idea, especially as me and my girl just got back together.” Briggs spotted several red drum chasing bait in their direction. The opportunity was perfect to hook one of them and seize the catch of the day, but he was distracted by the intensity of the conversation. He looked away from the approaching fish and turned his attention back to Check.
“I’m not entirely sure what I’m saying yes to, but I’ve gotten used to catching bad guys, so I’ll do it.”
Check shifted in his seat and flashed a grin of relief.
“You know a lot about me, Colonel. You’ve seen my files, you knew how to find me. You showed up here unannounced and knew I would welcome you, knew we would fish. You knew I would say yes to this mission. You’ve fought beside me in battle, as a brother and a Marine. Your face was the first I saw when I woke from hell and realized I wasn’t dead. I think you and I share a bond much stronger than blood, and that is why I trust you.” Scott paused. “But there is something about me that you will not find mingled in with all the rhetoric and statistics. I am of this place and it is of me. The salt water runs through my veins, and I have rarely spent a night here without sand in the sheets and the sound of the waves kissing the shore.”
Check nodded. “You know, when you said, ‘I’ll do it,’ I was going to shake your hand and say you are doing your country a great service, but you and I both know you’re doing it because it is the right thing to do. It’s like you just said, Briggs. You are doing it for me, your friend, all your friends in uniform, and for yourself. I promise I will look out for you and your family. I won’t let you down, because I know you won’t let me down.” He reached a hand out to Scott. “Now let me shake your hand.”
Briggs grabbed his hand and they shook enthusiastically, both smiling.
“Good, let’s get some paperwork out of the way.” Check removed a small video camera from his bag. He spent the next few minutes recording statements of intent from both he and Briggs as he shook Briggs’s hand and formally welcomed him into what he called “The Service.” Then he returned the video camera to his bag and handed Briggs a set of discharge papers from the Marine Corps. Then he gave him another that inducted him into The Service.
Check spent several minutes explaining the particulars to Briggs in simple terms. He explained that being a Marine would now simply be Briggs’s cover for his existence in The Service, and that his money now came from a different government source and not directly through the Marine Corps. He was going to be in the shadows. The job was renewable on a case-by-case or mission basis. At any time and for any reason, Scott could be retired or moved to another mission. Check explained that one day Scott could be moved to New York to work on the back of a garbage truck, if that was what the job called for. Or he could lie dormant for months, during which time he would train, honing and learning skills for upcoming missions. He stressed that Briggs was in for life once he agreed. Briggs was filled with both apprehension and excitement as he swore that he understood his new role.
Check produced a small stainless steel flask. “Remember I promised that you and I would share a drink of good scotch one day? I think we’re ready for that drink now.” Check passed the flask to Briggs.
“So this is the good stuff?”
“Only the best. I think it’s called for, don’t you?”
“Yes, I do.” Briggs took a long pull from the flask. He signed the paperwork and the video disk and handed them back to Check.
“So now it’s done?” Scott asked. Questions tumbled around in his mind, but he instinctively knew that they wouldn’t be answered at this time or in this place.
“Not quite, my friend. We are doing this back-assward because of the constraints of time. We will train you later at the academy. For now, the game is on, so we are playing catch up.”
Briggs took another sip from the flask. “This flask is pretty beat up,” he said.
“Yes, it is sort of a casualty of war. It’s old and beat up, but I like things like that. It’s a bit like me.”
Briggs laughed.
“Of course, I will replace it when it starts to leak.”
Briggs examined one of the corners that looked as if it had been soldered before passing the flask back to Check. “Looks like it did leak.”
“Yeah.” Check grinned and lifted the flask to his lips. “I meant, when it leaks again.”
Briggs turned the boat back in the direction of his dock. They pulled up to the pier, unloaded the boat, and sat down at the picnic table in the backyard. It was still early so they were all alone.
“Now for the cool stuff.” Check reached into his pocket and passed Briggs a small cell phone. “This phone is your direct connection to me and the command operation.” Check handed him a sheet of paper. “This is a bit like school, so I apologize in advance, but you have to memorize the phone numbers on that sheet.”
Briggs gave an exaggerated eye roll. “The first one is easy.”
“How so?” Check enquired.
“It’s the day I became a Marine, 6-18-2004.”
“How about that. What an odd coincidence.” Check flashed a narrow smile.
Briggs nodded, but his mind was turning. I don’t think there are any coincidences in this line of work. He was so sure I would say yes, he set the phone number up ahead of time. A small whisper of suspicion formed in his mind.
Check continued, “All right now, this phone is a little different than regular phones. Any time you dial a secure number, the phone will automatically erase the number from its memory. That way, if somebody picks it up, they won’t be able to trace any of the secure numbers. Other than that, it operates normally. It can only be used after entering this five-digit code.” He handed Briggs a piece of paper with the code.
“You got it?”
Briggs nodded.
“Are you sure? Because the numbers are random this time.”
Briggs nodded again, and Check folded up the paper and stuck it back in his pocket.
“Aren’t you going to break out a lighter and burn that or something?”
“No. Not here.” Check’s tone was serious. “If an incorrect code is entered five sequential times, the phone will lock up and automatically activate a distress signal that won’t be audible to the human ear. A booster tower will pick up and enhance the signal. You can also activate the emergency locator using another code, which is listed on the first sheet.”
“Right.” Briggs turned the phone in his palm.
“Oh, and one of the drawbacks to this phone is that the line can be accessed from our end at any time, so that we can listen to ongoing conversations, sometimes without your knowledge.”
Briggs made a face.
“So don’t take it on any hot dates,” Check joked.
“Understood.”
Check pulled out a watch from his pocket and dangled it enticingly. “Will anyone notice if you start wearing a new watch?”
“I doubt it. I’m always buying new ones because I beat the hell out of them. Scratched, broken, lost. You name it.” He examined the watch in Check’s fingertips. It was sturdily built, with a stainless steel case, a thick fabric band, and hands for hours, minutes, and seconds in the center of a slate-gra
y background. Slightly left of the movement, there was a date counter. The bezel rotated in one direction for diving times, and a small compass was mounted on the band.
“This is another type of locating device,” Check explained. He demonstrated by pulling the bezel out and rotating it in a clockwise direction. “Doing this will activate a distress signal.”
Check handed the watch to Briggs. “Both the watch and the phone have an ID number in it, which would give pertinent information to ID you when scanned.”
“Do I get a cyanide capsule?” Briggs asked jokingly.
Check’s expression changed. “No, that’s only for people who know something they don’t want to reveal during torture. And trust me, if you’re tortured properly, you’ll tell everything you know.”
Briggs saw the stone-cold, somber face before him, and the gravity of what he had signed up for started to dawn upon him. There was a moment of silence between them.
When Check spoke again, his tone was lighter. “I can’t tell you any more about Trust. You will have to feel him out for yourself. I will fill you in as we go along, but I don’t want to place any preconceptions about him in your head. You will have less to lie about, less to worry about, and you will appear more natural. Believe me, the guy’s not an idiot. He will work you over in a conversation; even in a little chat he will be gathering information, making assessments. He is a naturally suspicious person—has been all his life.”
Check slapped his thighs and rose from the bench. “Remember, do not let the phone out of your sight. In particular, don’t let it get into the hands of Trust or his people. They may try to trace back the signal with some device, and even though they won’t be able to read it, their failure to do so will set him off. He’ll run from you like a trophy buck from a noisy hunter.
“Now, when you are using the phone, you can bet he will also try to read your outgoing signal, but don’t worry about that.” Check held out a small bag that looked like a Ziploc sandwich bag. “This liner should be kept in your pocket. When you’re not using the phone, keep it in the liner. Just having this liner in your pocket will scramble the device of anyone trying to eavesdrop electronically on your phone call. The plastic is not really plastic; it’s a type of transparent metal poly. Real space-age technology. Even if somebody picks it up and plays around with it, they will never know the difference between this and a sandwich bag. I’ll make sure you get a couple more. Oh, and the phone does not ring; it only vibrates. And remember the watch has an emergency alert on it, so don’t activate it unless you have to.”
“I will just leave it at home,” Briggs said.
“No, wear it. Trust will notice the tan lines on your wrist and wonder why you are not wearing a watch.”
“Shit.” Briggs stood up, massaging his forehead. “You really threw me on top of an alligator. Why me?”
“I can’t tell you now, but I will when—”
“When I need to know,” Briggs finished.
“This guy is sharp, but you are sharper,” Check said, pointing a finger at him. “That’s why I am using you.”
“But I get a sense that’s not the only reason. It sounds crazy, but I think it’s also because I’m somehow involved.” Briggs held up his hands. “I know, you can’t tell me. Just take care of my family if something happens to me.”
“That’s the deal. You are due to go back to Iraq in twenty-six days as if nothing has changed. Until then, our contact will be through this phone. Give me a call when he tries to contact you, and at least once a day to check in. Doesn’t matter what time. And don’t tell a soul about any of this.”
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
August 2006
The days passed agonizingly slow for Briggs, as if he were digging a hole in the sand that kept filling in. He could not sleep nor get any rest no matter how hard he tried. He was so nervous and distracted that he couldn’t fish either, and that was the most frustrating part. Immediately after Check departed, Briggs was overwhelmed by the new twist in his life. He could feel his blood racing at top speed. There was a part of him—a part he never really understood—that craved the kind of excitement and even danger that his new life offered.
Despite his stress, he spent every moment he could with Anita when she wasn’t at work, and he had started to spend more time with Sweetie too. He and Anita agreed that a gradual introduction into Sweetie’s life would be best. She was as precious as could be, and he loved everything about her without prejudice. He could easily see himself as her father, even though it was a bit of a “cart before the horse” situation. He was certain of one thing—they would be his family.
Of course, since Check’s visit, even that simple goal—creating a family with Anita and Sweetie—had gotten more complicated. Still, Scott was determined to find a way.
When he was alone with his thoughts, his mind filled with questions that came at him like machine-gun fire. What have I gotten myself into? Will I be hauled away to meet Trust? Should I carry a weapon? Will I have to kill someone? Is Check using me? Am I an expendable pawn for his greater gain? Should I have just taken the retirement and not accepted Check’s challenge?
He would shake his head and breathe deeply, audibly—in and out, in and out. Lose the doubt, dumbass. Lose it now. Focus. Stay on task.
He knew he couldn’t have any nerves or preconceived notions. Check had emphasized that Trust was sharp and had instincts for bullshit and trouble. Scott had to go in calm and clean.
Two weeks after Check came to see him, Scott was walking down to the dock carrying a can of gas for his morning trip to inspect the flounder net that ran from the end of his pier to the deeper water at the edge of the channel when his “super phone” vibrated. It was probably Check calling—as he had done every morning—to get a status report. Scott pulled it from the plastic baggie in his pocket and answered it.
“Good morning! How’s the fishing today?” Check’s tone was jovial at first, then grew more serious. “Last night, Trust’s men arrived in Morehead City, North Carolina, and checked into a hotel. Trust will not be far behind them. Keep your normal schedule, of course, but be prepared for some form of contact from Trust soon. Did you get the care package I sent you?”
“No, not yet,” Briggs said, squinting as he looked over the morning water. A few boats were out. “What’s in it?”
“Some instructions, a laptop, and your first month’s rent.”
“Rent?” Briggs was caught off guard by this last part.
“Yes, that is how you will receive compensation to your pay. It will help maintain your cover on this particular mission and keep you on top of your new pay scale without anyone getting suspicious at your Battalion S1. For anyone who wants to know, you are now the proud owner of three rental homes. The deeds and locations are in the paperwork. A realty company in New Bern manages the homes and the renters for you, and they send you a check every month. The homes will always have occupants and will always be maintained. There’s nothing for you to worry about. You just collect the rent checks.”
“No kid—” Briggs stopped midsentence. One of the boats he’d noticed just moments ago was clearly heading his way. It was small but fast and coming out of the channel into shallow water toward his flounder nets, which were clearly marked by red and blue foam balls that jostled on the surface.
“Scott? What’s going on?”
Check’s voice brought him back to the phone call. “Not sure. There’s this boat—”
“Where are you? Fill me in now.” Check’s voice demanded a response.
“Hold on, Colonel. Some clown is about to run through my nets.”
Briggs placed the phone against his chest and waved his arm in an attempt to alert the oncoming boat to his nets. The lone operator finally saw the net and pulled back on the throttle, letting the decelerating boat settle into the shallow water.
Briggs shouted to the driver, “It’s pretty shallow right there. Trim your motor up as far as it will go and you should make it.” The m
an did as Briggs suggested and maintained a slow approach to the pier.
Briggs returned the phone to his ear. “Everything’s fine. Maybe this guy doesn’t know the area. Pretty damn fine boat, though.” He admired the Shearwater twenty-four-foot blue-on-white vessel with its 250 OptiMax on a shallow water jack. He knew how fast those boats could go—this one could run on twelve inches of water wide open at more than seventy-five miles per hour—and he also knew the price tag. Small boat, big price tag: it probably cost around fifty thousand dollars.
“Don’t know him?” Check asked.
“Don’t know him.”
“Describe him.”
Briggs lowered his voice a bit. “Late fifties, a little shorter than me maybe, spotty gray hair, potbelly but not fat.”
Check said, “That’s our man. You’re up, big guy.”
The Shearwater was now about ten feet from the dock. Briggs returned his phone to the baggie and placed it in his pants pocket. His heart pounded rapidly as he realized his mission had finally begun. No turning back now.
Just follow his lead.
“That’s a neat trick,” the man said, pointing at the phone in Briggs’s pocket. “I never thought of that.” He stood on the bow of his boat to hand Briggs a mooring line.
For a moment, Briggs didn’t move.
Relax, dumbass!
“Yup, my old man taught me the baggie trick. Don’t even want to think about how many cell phones have been saved in the process.” Briggs chuckled lightly, trying to seem relaxed.
“Makes good sense,” the man said with a dazzling grin, as he dangled the line for Briggs to grab.
Briggs sat on the edge of the dock to stop the boat’s forward movement gently with his feet. The man jumped from the boat and secured his stern line to the dock as Briggs tied up the bow.
“Fine morning out there today. I’m Shelby Trust. Thanks for the help.” He extended his hand to Briggs, who shook it with a firm grip.
“No problem. Scott Briggs.” Even though his pulse was racing, his voice was calm and friendly. Just keep breathing. Stay cool.
Shadows at War Page 12