Sailing into Death (CJ Washburn, PI Book 2)

by James Paddock

  "This is getting more and more curious. Has there been anything at all as to the motive behind this bombing?"

  "Next to nothing so far, but like I said, the FBI is being tight-lipped. Of course the first thing that came to mind was middle-east extremists and our own white supremacists, but no one has come forward to claim responsibility. One rumor that popped up, but was immediately rejected, was the IRA."

  "The Irish Republican Army?"

  "Right. Like I said, it was rejected, even by the news media."

  "Great!" CJ said and turned his attention back to the table. Rebecca was gone

  "They could at least get it right," Stella said to CJ. "I'm your partner, not your assistant." After a few seconds of contemplative silence, Stella opened the menu and said, "So, what's on the agenda for tomorrow?"

  "To be honest with you, I don't know if there's anything we can do. As far as the bombing and Douglas' murder, the FBI and the locals have control of that. Searching down the legality of the will and all is a bit out of our league. I'd say let's just hang around and play tourist."

  "I feel bad for Rebecca. Is there anything we can do for her?"

  "The only help we can give her is help she probably doesn't want, and that would be assistance in getting Douglas' affairs in order and shipping him to Indiana."

  "I think she's angry enough at him that she may be more than happy to get rid of him," Stella said. "A woman scorned and all that."

  "Maybe, but Eveleen Danohough may want to step into the fight. She'll have to prove that she's his mother first, which may be a challenge in US courts. Even with that, I don't know if she'd have power over Kassandra Rothbower, the legal wife in Indiana."

  "Eveleen gave him up as a baby, abandoned him on the hospital doorstep. Doesn't she lose her right to him?"

  "Abandoning him to an alleged illegal adoption. I don't know what kind of twist that'll put on it. In the end, though, I believe it'll all be for not. It all took place forty-three years ago in another country. There may involve a statute of limitations that will allow the courts to turn a blind eye and say that Douglas Rothbower is his legal name and his marriage of twenty-some years to Kassandra takes precedence over everything.

  "I also believe Gianna Onassis will do whatever it takes to win this for her sister."

  "What's Shepherd's Pie?" Stella asked of Hannah a minute later.

  "You've never enjoyed Shepherd's Pie?" Hannah said. "That's like saying you've never had ice cream. You must not be Irish."

  "I'm Scottish, actually."

  "Oh! That's that cute little country to the north, just beyond the Irish Sea. They's fine people, they is, but they know little o' Shepherd's Pie. Will give you a break on that."

  Stella just looked at her, apparently not sure what to say.

  Hannah put a hand on her shoulder and grinned. "Don't take anything we say here in Paddy's seriously. Tis all in fun, except the Shepherd's pie. It be serious for your supper. Tis ground top sirloin o' beef sautéed with onions, peas, and carrots, all baked in a casserole. It be topped with mashed potatoes."

  CJ tilted his head at Stella. She shrugged.

  "Let's have two of those, Awnya."

  Hannah grinned at the use of her Irish pronunciation. "Perfect. Refill on your Guinness?"

  "Sure. Why not."

  "So," Stella said after Hannah rushed away with their empty mugs in hand, "we're just going to hang around and play tourist?"

  "I think we can do that and keep our ears and eyes open at the same time. Let's go sailing tomorrow."

  "With your broken rib?"

  "First of all, it's just cracked."

  "What's the difference?"

  "Second of all," added CJ, ignoring her question, "we let someone else do all the hosting, jibbing and tacking. We'll just sit, snuggle, and enjoy the day on the bay."

  Stella considered it for a time. "I don't know. I'm not a water person."

  "Neither am I. We won't be in the water. We'll be on the boat, wearing life vests and hats, smelling of sunscreen, enjoying the exhilaration of skimming across the surface under the power of a warm ocean breeze. What could possibly go wrong?"

  Chapter 24

  After arguing with Stella over who was going to carry her luggage into the hotel and then trying to hide the pain while hauling only her computer bag, all CJ wanted to do was remove the wrap and drown himself in a hot shower.

  Stella helped him with the wrap, making a face at the huge bruise occupying his entire right side, pushed him into the shower and then joined him.

  "I don't think I'm in shape enough for sexual calisthenics," he said.

  "No sex," she said. "We're going to wash up and then I've got something special planned for you."

  "No sex, huh? I can't wait." He pulled her chin up so that he could kiss her. "I might have to give you a raise."

  She reached down and touched him. "It seems to me the raise is all yours, Mister No Calisthenics Guy. What I have in mind will most definitely take care of that."

  CJ smiled, thinking that a little horizontal smooching might not be all that bad, but ten minutes later he lay on his side while Stella applied a bag of ice to his ribs, the smile, and any thought of sex, gone.

  "The doctor should have mentioned this," Stella said. "Maybe you forgot."

  "That's cold!" CJ complained. "I'm sure that if the doctor did mention ice, he didn't refer to it as, 'something special.' This is worse than when I got thrown around the boat. Can we go down and sit in the whirlpool after this?"

  "No. No heat for at least three or four days. Rest and relaxation only."

  "Tell that to the guy who threw a bomb at me."

  "I also don't think sailing would be a good idea," Stella added.

  "I'd think that'd be resting and relaxing while someone else did all the work."

  She made a pouting face at him.

  "You're a poop head."

  She put her hands on her hips. "I'm a what?"

  "No sex. No sailing. No whirlpool. What next?"

  "No Superman stuff. No jumping tall buildings and rescuing maidens in distress."

  "That proves it. You're a poop head."

  "Say that one more time and I'll..."

  "You'll what? Poop head! Poop head! Poop head!"

  She hit him in the head with the bag of ice.

  "Owww!"

  Sunday morning dawned with Stella fetching CJ's pain medication and more ice. After the round of ice torture, he lay on his back until the meds took effect, watching Tampa's Bay News 9's morning special report on the bombing before switching over to CNN. No one had come forth to claim responsibility. Somehow or other the UIRA angle had not been picked up by any of the news agencies. CJ could see the FBI keeping tight lipped about it all, but he was surprised with the locals. He had to give a nod of respect to the St. Petersburg Police Force. Still...

  "Something's not right about all this," CJ said to Stella.

  "Someone threw a bomb in downtown St. Petersburg," she said. "What could possibly be right?"

  "In Tucson, even with the FBI in the middle of it, there would have been detectives swarming the scene with their forensic teams, and a hell of a lot more uniforms. Other than Parker DuPont, who I called, I've seen no other detectives. The few uniforms that were present were nothing more than traffic guards, statement takers and lackeys for the Feds. The forensic team that was there was strictly FBI."

  "Okay," Stella nodded. "I see what you mean, but..."

  "But what?"

  "I don't know. Just but. Where're you going with this?"

  CJ pointed at the TV. "That's why no one is picking up on the Northern Ireland connection. The Feds have a lid on it, and I mean a tight lid. It's also why when we threatened to talk to the press yesterday, Taffer caved so quickly. It was either that or lock us up somewhere and I don't think he's ready to go that route just yet."

  He looked up at the ceiling for a few seconds. "And there's something else, and this didn't click with me until just now."r />
  "What's that?"

  "I heard a couple of agents talking about the fact that the HDRU was placed on standby. It should have been one of those 'Oh my God!' moments right then, that is if my head hadn't still been ringing bells."

  "What's the HDRU?"

  "The Hazardous Device Response Unit."

  "A bomb is a hazardous device. Why should that be unusual?"

  "The original mission of the HDRU, when it was established seven or eight years ago, was to locate and diffuse WMDs, not small home-made IEDs."

  "W... M... D?" Stella said. "Weapons of Mass..."

  "Destruction. That's right."

  "Oh... my... God," Stella said in a whisper.

  "Exactly. Chemical or Nuclear yield," he continued, "and there are only two people who can order the deployment of the HDRU; the Director of the FBI and the Executive Assistant Director for Counterterrorism and Counterintelligence. At least, that's the way it used to be. Maybe their scope has been expanded to include smaller high explosive devices."

  "If it hasn't, that's scary."

  "Scary indeed."

  "How do you know this stuff?"

  "I knew someone in border patrol when I was still in uniform. They ran a drill with the HDRU to which I was unofficially invited."

  After a few minutes of contemplative silence while staring at the TV, Stella said, "Before you started talking about this stuff, I was hungry. Now I've lost my appetite."

  "Let's go down to breakfast anyway. I'm sure your appetite will return. I'll call Josh and see if he's ready to join us."

  Stella's appetite did indeed return. CJ watched her eat like it was her last meal. Halfway through the breakfast, Josh arrived.

  After he placed his order, they discussed weather and life in Denver, a city neither CJ or Stella had ever visited. When Josh's eggs arrived, CJ said, "Any new news on the bombing event?"

  "Nothing I can really talk about."

  CJ considered giving him a hard time about not trusting his old man, then, instead, went straight for the heart of his thoughts.

  "Why was the HDRU deployed?"

  Josh's mouth dropped open for just a second and then closed. He squinted at his dad. "To my knowledge the HDRU has not been deployed, and I think I'd know. Where're you getting your information?"

  "Then let me rephrase my question. Why has the HDRU been placed in standby?"

  "Then let me restate my question. Where are you getting your information?"

  "This is bigger than just a few guns and IEDs, isn't it, Josh?"

  "Dad, who the hell have you been talking to?"

  "Hey, guys," Stella said. "Stop asking each other questions and start giving some answers. Josh, I think we deserve to know the seriousness of this whole mess."

  "I need to know where the leak is," Josh said. "The lid on this is tight as hell."

  "The lid is a tad loose, Josh," CJ said. "It's not as though someone is purposefully whispering secrets to whoever will listen. I've got ears and enough knowledge to make conclusions out of snippets of what I hear. Your agents need to be more aware of who's hanging near them when they start discussing what they're doing, what's going on. If I can put two and two together, so can the people manning the satellite trucks and some of them have long range microphones. The lid isn't tight enough."

  Josh took a deep breath and blew it out.

  CJ leaned forward, pushing his plate out of the way and dropping his voice. "I've heard enough to know that a WMD of some sort may be involved. I've also heard enough to speculate that it's somewhere in this area right now or onboard a cargo ship due to drop anchor just offshore sometime today, if it's not there already. Is it chemical or nuclear?"

  "Damn it, Dad! You know I can't say anything."

  Stella leaned forward. "Here's a question I think you could answer, Josh. If you were living here, in Florida, with a wife and a baby, would you, right now, be thinking that it'd be a good time for them to visit her parents in Colorado?"

  Josh considered the question for a time and then leaned back and smiled. "No," he said.

  Stella looked at CJ, who had raised his eyebrows at her. "Nice approach," he said. "It's big enough to bring in the HDRU, but not big enough to worry about evacuating loved ones. Therefore, it's chemical and it's small." He turned to Josh. "Is your Intel good enough that you know exactly what it is, how big it is and what it's intended target is?"

  "No."

  "No to what part?"

  "Target."

  CJ leaned back in his chair in contemplation. After a time he said, "I think Douglas knew. I believe he'd just found out but was killed before he could impart his knowledge to his handler."

  "Why do you say that?"

  "It's more of a hunch than anything. One word he let slip to me was summit. I had Stella do a little Goggling to see if she could find anything having to do with summit and Ireland. She came up with the G8 summit in June of next year in Fermanagh."

  Josh raised his eyebrows.

  "That's in Northern Ireland," CJ added.

  "I know where Fermanagh is, Dad. It's interesting, but nine months out? It's a long reach."

  "Agreed. What other summit is in the works, likely before the end of the year?"

  "Certainly none that I know of," Josh said. "Are you sure he used the word, summit?"

  "Yes."

  "I'll have to mention it to Agent Taffer."

  "I already did, yesterday. He certainly found it interesting as well, and, like you, appeared to immediately dismiss it."

  "I'm sure he didn't dismiss it, Dad. We can't dismiss anything. He probably passed it on to Washington for others to consider in the longer time-line. Right here, on the ground, we're thinking a much shorter time-line."

  "Hm," CJ nodded.

  "How short?" Stella asked.

  "A few days; a few weeks."

  "Are you thinking within our borders versus Northern Ireland?" CJ asked.

  "That's exactly what I'm thinking, though it hasn't been voiced as yet from the bosses. It may be brought up at this morning's briefing, which I have to be at in," he looked at his watch, "fifty-two minutes."

  Josh finished off his meal, pushed back and gulped down the remainder of his coffee. "I'll catch up with you guys later. What are you planning for the day?"

  CJ shrugged. "Haven't put a lot of thought into it as yet. Might go sailing."

  "Sailing?" Josh looked at Stella. "He's kidding, right?"

  "He shouldn't be going out on a boat with those ribs, so yes, I hope he's kidding."

  After Josh walked away, Stella said, "You are kidding, aren't you?"

  "If you insist."

  "I insist. So, what now?"

  "Let's see if we can find Ms. Eveleen Danohough."

  "Why?"

  "Because I think it might be important to find out who Douglas' father is, which is an item on my checklist of things to accomplish for Gianna."

  "You think he's still alive?"

  "I think the chances are high. I also think that she's much more involved with all of this than she's letting on, and that if that's the case we may not be able to find her."

  "Why's that?"

  "Because she has either gone deep into hiding from UIRA or she's dead. She wasn't at Paddy McGee's last night so I think she's hiding somewhere."

  "If she's a co-founder, why would she have to hide from them and why would they want to kill her?"

  "Her son was an FBI informant. Anyone he might have talked to is a loose end UIRA can't have hanging around. They're cutting all loose ends to try and salvage their mission."

  Stella sat back and stared at CJ, her mouth twisted into a thoughtful pose. "Rebecca is a loose end as well," she said after a time.

  "As may be Paddy McGee and his family."

  Chapter 25

  Not surprisingly, Eveleen's cell phone went to voice mail, as did her business phone at Coffee Bean Boutique. CJ then called Rebecca.

  "Good morning, Rebecca," CJ said when she answered. "How are you
feeling this morning?"

  "Physically, I'm fine. Mentally, I'm a wreck still happening."

  "I'm very sorry. Anything I can do to help?"

  "I don't know," she said. After a few seconds she added, "I don't think so."

  "What I called about is Eveleen. She's not picking up on the numbers I have for her. Do you have any idea where she is?"

  "No, I don't."

  "You mentioned last night that her friend, Eddie Hall, picked her up. Do you know how we could get in touch with him? Maybe she spent the night at his place."

  "Yes. Just a second." There was silence until she returned. "I have no idea where he lives so I don't have an address, but I do have a phone number." She recited it to him. "His cell, I think."

  "Thank you. Did you go home last night?"

  "I stayed at my brother's."

  "Good," CJ said.

  After disconnecting with Rebecca, CJ dialed Eddie's number, and then for the third time, left a voice mail.

  "Now what?" Stella said. "Think you should check in with Gianna?"

  He nodded and hit Gianna's speed dial number.

  "CJ!" Gianna said. "I was about to call you. Was wrapped up with Kassandra all day yesterday; didn't see the news about the bombing until late last night, your name and photo in the middle of it. How are you doing?"

  "Not too bad this morning, Gianna. A little banged up but my favorite nurse is here with me now."

  "Nurse?"

  "Stella."

  "Of course. Good."

  "Stella thought it'd be a good idea I call and give you a report, see if there's anything I can be doing for you on this end as far shipping Douglas back to Indiana."

  "I've got it pretty well covered, although the St. Petersburg police haven't released the body yet. If you've developed any pull on that side, it'd be appreciated."

  "I'll see what I can do. My best contact, however, is in the hospital."

  "Detective DuPont?"

  "Right. I'll go by and see him this morning."

  "The other thing," Gianna said, "is that I'm hitting a brick wall with Eveleen Danohough, the woman claiming to be Douglas' natural mother. Is there any doubt in your mind that she is legitimate?"