by G L Rockey
He stepped to Jim. “Jimbo, Tweedledee was right.”
Jim squinted his eyes. You okay?
“‘If it was so, it might be; and if it were so, it would be; but as it isn’t, it ain’t.’ It’s the logic that gets the world in trouble every time.”
“What?”
“One-arm man in an ass-kicking contest.”
“It’s one-legged man.”
“I want you to listen to me carefully and tell me where I’m wrong, okay?”
“I usually do.”
“Walk with me,” Zack said.
They began a slow stroll around the shopping mall. “A friend of mine has sent me a message.”
“The fax?”
“Yesand we need to go to Bimini, tonight.”
Jim stopped and studied Zack. “Say again, Bwana?”
“I have a funny feeling that something very big is going on and that we need to go to Bimini, tonight.”
“That’s what I thought you said.”
“Something big is going on.”
Jim laughed. “Zackary, what’s the joke?”
“Joe Case, former Bimini Road restaurateur, wants to see me.”
“What?” Jim swallowed, choked, coughed. “That crackpot jerk”
“He’s the ‘J.C.’ in the fax message.”
“Zackary, please, I lost you.”
“The ‘JC’ in the fax is Joe Case, he’s relocated to Bimini.”
“Wait a minute.” Jim stepped back.
“Keep it down, act like we’re just chatting.”
Eyes squinted, Jim wiped his lips. “I knew you were starting to forget things, but full-blown Alzheimer’s coupled with paranoia—I didn’t think you were this far gone.”
Zack stepped closer to him. “Listen to me, this is serious.”
Jim chuckled. “Yes, indeed, Alzheimer’s coupled with paranoia is very serious”
“Jim, think about that fax for a minute. What is now happening on Main Street U.S.A., the big picture, the past twenty-four hours?”
“I’m not following you, Bwana.” He put a hand on Zack’s shoulder. “Zackary, ol’ boy, it’s nothing to be ashamed of. Let me get you to a doctor.”
Zack brushed off his hand. “This is not funny.”
“Zackary, will you stop for a minute? Listen to yourself. Joe Case is crazy as a bedbug in a French bordello.”
“Will you look at me?”
Jim stared into Zack’s eyes. After a moment, he said, “You’re serious, aren’t you?”
“We have to go to Bimini, tonight.”
“Zackary, how? I meanwe can’t just take off and go to Bimini. I meandamn, man.”
“Last time I saw Joe Case the said something”
“Zackary, Joe Case is nuttier than my mother’s Christmas fruitcakes.”
“He’s found something.”
“Dementia praecox, and you caught it.”
“Sometimes I think that would be easier.”
“You’re serious, aren’t you?”
“You said that already. Yes, very.”
“But I don’t get it.”
“Don’t try, I’ll explain to you later. We’re going to Bimini, tonight.”
“You might be going to Bimini, Bwana, but this black ass is staying in Miami.”
“Nice try, and you did, and we’re going to Bimini, tonight.”
“HowI mean, how do you propose?” He stopped as the thought hit him–Veracity. “Oh no, no, I’m not going to Bimini in that tub of yours.”
“Are you referring to Veracity?”
“None other.”
“Massa, how could you.”
“Sorry.”
“I wouldn’t think of putting Veracity’s elegance through the strain. Besides, they’re probably watching her. We need something fast and loose, a bullet.”
“Oh, my God.”
“We drive to Fisherman’s Marina. It’s south of Homestead Bay Park, I know Buddy Bone, the owner. Rent, borrow, beg his Top Gun.”
“What’s that?”
“Cigarette boat.”
“Oh, my God. Look, I want you to see a shrink, I know a good”
“Listen to me, this fax is not a coincidence. The way this thing has evolved, the video, Benny, I feel it in my bones.”
“Skull and crossbones”
“We could be under surveillance right now.” Zack looked skyward. “Satellites, drones, they can read the writing on a nun’s underwear.”
“Holylisten, Zackary, they say the first sign of Alzheimer’s can be paranoia.”
“Who says?”
“Some interview I saw, a TV talk show.”
“Say no more.” Zack put his hand on Jim’s shoulder. “When we go back to my office, act like nothing unusual is going on. I’ll say you’re going to keep digging on the cover-up angle to this blasted video story, then leave. Okay?”
Jim nodded his head in disbelief. “I don’t believe this.”
“I don’t believe many things. Now, I’m going to that pay phone to pretend to make another call”
“Pretend Zackary, I”
“Relax. When I return we go back to the office, tell Ted and Mary we checked out the fax, a former of-the-cloth classmate of mine playing gamesnothing to it”
“That’s the truth.”
“Act like nothing happened. Do some work. Hang around, then you leave, say you are going to check out some leads at the mayor’s office, something. I’ll leave with Ted so it looks like nothing out of the ordinaryI’ll tell him what’s going on, have him drive me to the Jabberwocky, take my car to Veracity, he can stay on board tonight.”
“Oh, my God”
“You have your passport?”
“It’s at home.”
“When you leave, go home and get it. I’ll meet you at Jabberwocky, six o’clock. Are you listening to me?”
“Yes.”
“At Jabberwocky, come in so I’ll know you’re there, go in a corner somewhere, when you see Ted leave, you leave, I’ll meet you in parking lot at your carwe’ll be at Fisherman’s Marina less than an hourget Bone’s Top Gun, be in Bimini in no time.”
Jim cupped his face with both hands. “You really are serious about this, aren’t you?”
“Dead.”
“Don’t say that.”
“You’re in good hands.”
“Oh, my god, Zackary, no kidding, the stress, please let me get you to a shrink.”
“Jimbo, I want you to think about what has happened yesterday and today, in just twenty-four short hours, and tell me what you think is going on.”
Jim put his hands on his hips. “How ’bout a couple of white cops, dealing in drugs, prostitution, snuff a sister who tries to stiff them?”
“What about the Lincoln, Hertz rental, what Mary said about the dead ringer?”
“Okay, so the cops are involved in a bigger operation.”
“What about Benny, his martial law bull shit?”
“He’s just trying to do his duty, his job.”
“That is too easy an answer and you know it.”
“And what is yours?”
“Look, I don’t have time to debate this. Take a minute to think about it. Go ahead, get your thoughts together. If you don’t want to go, let me know. Take all the time you need. I’m going to that pay phone to fake a call. Then we’re going back to my office, you are going to leave, I am going to meet you at Jabberwocky, 6:00, don’t be late, then we’re going to Bimini.”
“Damn, Zackary What if you’re wrong?”
“When have I ever been wrong?”
Jim shook his head. “I give up.”
“I’ll be right back.”
“I’ll be here.” Jim sat on a cement stool and gazed at three large orange-and-white fish swimming in the fountain’s rippling water. He spoke to the fish. “I know how you must feel, in that small pond, going round and round.”
Then, trying to stack logic t
ogether, he contemplated going to Bimini. “That Joe Case is a nut case. I could end up dead.”
With that thought circulating in his head, he watched Zack swagger back toward him. He stood.
“Zackary, I’ve been thinking”
“About what?”
“This is insane.”
“A-plus. The world is insane. We’re right at home, and take that tie off.”
Chapter Thirty Seven
5:02 PM EST
Back at his Boca office, his plan proceeding, suspicious that his movements were being tracked, Zack checked his watch, 5:03 p.m. He went down to Ted’s office.
“Ted, how about let’s go over to the Jabberwocky, buy you a beer?”
“You serious?”
“Dead.”
“But”
“Come on, ride with me.”
“But”
At the Jabberwocky, Zack explained to Ted what was up. He swore him to secrecy, not even Mary was to be told.
Ted said, “I’ll be a monkey’s uncle son of a gun, you want them to think”
“Good thinking.”
Ted paused, “I think I just saw Jimbo come in”
“No you didn’t.”
Fifteen minutes later, as planned, Ted left the Jabberwocky and drove Zack’s Subaru to Pompano Marina. He parked where Zack had instructed he always parked, ambled to Veracity, boarded and made himself a drink. Sunday morning he was to drive Zack’s car to The Boca, park it, go inside for a while then drive home in his Dodge Van.
Chapter Thirty Eight
10:02 p.m. EST
As pre arranged, Jim had exited the Jabberwocky by himself and five minutes later Zack met him in the parking lot at Jim’s maroon Corvette.
“Still got that tie on, huh?” Zack said.
Jim, driving, top down, negotiating endless stop-and-go traffic, three military road checks, they arrived at Fisherman’s Marina an hour after the last rays of sunlight had flecked the calm water of Button Wood Sound. Inside the Marina, Zack promised, bartered and borrowed the thirty-foot cigarette boat Top Gun from owner, Buddy Bone. Ten minutes later, Top Gun filled with fuel, Zack idled her out to deep water and gunned it.
Chapter Thirty Nine
10:30 p.m. EST
The Atlantic ocean’s backdrop a majestic deep purple, the moon hanging like a fat orange from a tree of stars, Top Gun skimmed over the dark, glassy water.
Zack gripped the wooden steering wheel, puffed a Camel and watched reflected slivers of silver moonlight slip past to his right. He checked the heading—east-northeast.
After a small correction, he pitched his Camel overboard and pressed the twin throttles of Top Gun forward. The Merc engines pulsated in sync. He read the speed gauges—thirty-eight hundred rpm, forty-three knots.
Far off to the southeast, jagged streaks of lightning ripped the sky, leaving huge cumulus clouds illuminated in eerie silence.
Zack glanced at Jim’s troubled face. “That storm is fifty miles away, Jimbo. Don’t look so worried.”
“I’m not worried.”
“You look worried.” Zack retrieved a fifth of Glenlivet from the console and took a swig. Biting his front teeth, he offered Jim the bottle. “Have a drink.”
“I’m not worried.”
“You said that. Here, have a drink.”
Jim took the bottle. “Getting dead is my only worry.”
“We’re not going to get dead, relax.”
“We don’t even know exactly where we’re going, do we?” He took a quick gulp.
“Sure we do. Bimini Island, Browns’ Marina, due east, a little north, they know we’re coming, invitation only, remember?”
“How they know that?”
“The Tea Company owner, Jay Xzing, told me.”
“You ever think of hanging out with just ordinary people?”
“No future in it.”
Jim shook his head. “But why?”
“Jimbo, believe me, I feel something in my bones.”
“Skull and crossbones.”
“You said that.”
“Uh-huh.”
“Relax.”
The propellers whined as they skimmed a small swell.
Jim said, “Ol’ crazy Joe Case doesn’t know we’re getting there like this, tonight, do he, on a cigar boat, do he, Bwana?”
“And then we have to get back—Bermuda Triangle, missing Flight 19, close encounters.” Zack wiped salt spray from his face. “You worry too much.”
“Zackary, even though you may be enjoying this, I’m not.” Jim slugged the bottle again. “I’m a writer, a journalist, not Sherlock Holmes.”
Zack thumped the wheel with his fist. “Jimbo, this is real journalism.”
“Maybe I should have gone to law school.” He slugged the Glenlivet again.
“Take it easy on that bottle, we have to think straight tonight.”
“Zackary, I couldn’t get drunk tonight if I drank two gallons of this stuff.”
“There isn’t two gallons, so take it easy.”
They shot over another swell. Jim braced himself.
“This can’t be true.”
“That is precisely why we are on this journey, friend, to find the truth.”
Jim gagged. “There’s an easier way.”
“Like what?”
“Make a few calls, talk, ask a few questions. Anything but this.”
“I’m not sure we weren’t being watched. If this thing has gone as far as it appears, they know what is going on everywhere.”
“They” Jim shook his head. “If there is a they, then they know we’re here and they are going to blow our asses out of the water. Zackary, who is ‘they?’”
“I have a hunch.”
“And you can’t tell your death-mate?”
“Benny.”
“You really are sick. I feel sick.”
“Take another drink. Settles the inner ear.”
Jim drank then wiped a spray of saltwater from his face. “And I could have gone to law school.”
“Think about it this way. If you were a rich lawyer you’d be in some swank hotel suite, eating eggs Benedict”
“Don’t say that”
“What?”
“That food word.”
“every morning, drinking Johnny Walker Blue every day, and unhappy every night.”
“You think?”
“I know. But this is more important, this now, what you are doing, this time we are in. Journey of the HeroJoe Campbell”
“Oh, nooo.”
“We’re on a voyage to slay the dragon, free the truth.”
Jim threw up over the side.
Zack studied the storm, raging now not so far off, more east than south. Over the din of the engines, he called, “You know, Jimbo, the President and his capitalist cronies, Senator Beno and her socialist movement, have and have-nots—the two ideas are clashing like never before. Something has to snap.”
“You already have.”
Zack took the bottle. “And what group, mostly male, wears snappy uniforms and hats with lots of little pins on them, is very frustrated these past few years with people like Beno threatening to take their toys away.”
“The Boy Scouts.”
“Benny’s pals—the generals.”
Zack took a quick swig. Jim gagged over the side.
“Kinda like a movie, isn’t it?”
Top Gun bounced off a sudden two-foot whitecap, became airborne then landed with a loud smack.
“What was that?” Jim said.
“Little chop. Nothing to worry about.” Zack saw a flash of light on the horizon and swung the wheel starboard, heading southeast.
“What are you doing You’re going directly toward that storm”
“That storm is fifty miles away. Relax.”
“You said that a few minutes ago. Why are we turning?”
“Somebody up there where they shouldn’t be. Maybe one of ours.”
; “That’s funny.”
A large wave jolted them to starboard.
“What was that?”
“Not to worry, Jimbo, probably a great white.”
“Oh, that’s funny, real funny. Gimme that bottle back.”
“Relax, it was just a little swell.” Zack handed him the bottle, checked the heading and turned to east-southeast. “We’ll turn north in a few minutes, should be seeing the lights of Alice Town very soon. Keep an eye out.”
“Zackary, I knew you’d figure out a way to get out on a boat this weekend, but this is insane.”
Chapter Forty
Sunday, 12:30 a.m. EST
With fifteen-knot winds buffeting the shore, the smell of a tropical storm filled the air. Slowed to five knots, Zack reversed the engines and Top Gun’s bow struck a Brown’s Marina dock with a bump.
“Nice,” Jim said.
“You do it next time.”
Out of nowhere two barefoot ladies dressed in purple T-shirts, white shorts and black baseball hats with “3.14” on the front appeared. They quickly tied the craft off.
Spirited past a custom agent who seemed to be asleep, Jim said, “So much for passports, “ and he and Zack were ushered to an ancient and rusted pickup truck where they were invited to set in the truck’s open bed.
Climbing in, looking at her hat, Zack said to the five-foot, ten-inch lady, “Three-point-one-four—that’s pi, isn’t it?”
“Right.”
Zack turned to Jim, who was seated on the bed’s floor. “See, Jim, transcendental number, infinite possibilities.”
The other lady—five feet, six inches, olive complexion, ponytail through the back of her baseball hat–smiling at Jim and Zack who were crouched in the pickup trucks’ bed, said, “Hold on, guys.”
Underway, Zack calculated the warm night air gushing over he and Jim. Humid, storm about an hour away. He turned his back to the wind, struck a match, cupped his hand around the flame and lit a Camel.
Exhaling, he said, “Wasn’t so bad, was it, Jimbo?”