Sailing into Death (CJ Washburn, PI Book 2)

by James Paddock

  "Your sign?"

  "I've apparently been waiting for a sign, and here you are." He raised his injured arm. "And then this happened. I was forced to look at my own case from a totally different viewpoint, a PI viewpoint, and I like it."

  "I think that nail in your head did more damage than anyone is thinking. You do realize that you'd likely lose whatever pension that you've invested years into."

  "I've thought quite a bit about that and have decided it's not worth it if I'm unhappy with what I'm doing. Tell me this. Why did you quit being a detective?"

  "I was never a detective, though the roads were leading in that direction. I stepped out of the uniform, completely away from the department, because I thought it was causing too much stress on my family. My marriage was failing and I'd hoped that going private would be the answer. It wasn't."

  Parker sat back. "Humph!" He thought for a few seconds. "Can't say that the family is an issue here, or at least not so much that I fear that Gracie and I are having marital problems. More time with the family would certainly be a plus, though." He looked toward the house as though expecting his wife to step out anytime. "Frankly, I need a change of scenery." When CJ gave him a questioning look he continued. "I don't mean that literally." He raised his good arm to indicate something off in the distance. "Out there. I need a professional change of scenery with a big slice of independence."

  "How independent you'd be would be up for debate. You'd go from working for one boss to working for dozens of bosses. Every client becomes someone to whom you'd be having to answer."

  "I understand."

  "And they don't always like your report. A wife hires you to find out what her husband is doing at night. Sometimes what she wants to hear is that he actually is working on a special project for the company, not poking the assistant."

  "How much of that type of work do you get?"

  "Not much, actually. Sometimes a divorce involving lots of money may inspire a request for my services to investigate a spouse, hoping that I'll uncover an affair. I do a lot of subpoena serving for the county and background checking. I've gotten established with several insurance companies doing fraud investigation. I've three different attorney's who call on me to assist in discovery of evidence before a trial. I've also assisted numerous companies in investigating internal theft problems. Occasionally I wind up in the middle of a case that the Tucson Police Department has allowed to go cold. Victims want answers and those who can afford it will gladly pay for it."

  "And then there was the serial killer," Parker added.

  "Oh yes. There was that. Not exactly a case I was getting paid for; however, requests for my services has more than doubled in the month since. Had to turn work away in order to come here, and I'm doing this pro-bono."

  Parker looked surprised for a few seconds and then said, "Oh, yes. Douglas was the father of the niece of your attorney client. A little quid-pro-quo I believe you said."

  "Exactly. She helped me when I was in jail, twice. Now I'm helping her." CJ didn't see need to mention that the pro-bono was over, that he was now billing for his services. He emptied his beer and pointed the bottle at the cooler. "Is there another in there?"

  "Help yourself."

  CJ stood just as the sliding glass door opened and Stella poked her head out.

  "Clint! Get in here. You've got to see this."

  "The painting?"

  "No. The news about a summit. Here, in the United States."

  They all stood in Parker's living room staring at the wall-mounted television screen. Parker was punching the back button on his DVR remote in an attempt to replay the entire news segment. He overshot the beginning so they had to wait through fifteen seconds of ads before it started up.

  "And finally this from our European correspondent, Crystal Zalinees, reporting from Brussels."

  "Thank you, Mark. We've just gotten word from a reliable source that the G8 is holding a mini-summit in the next few days somewhere in the United States, believed to be in Atlanta or somewhere in the southeast. It's all kind of hush-hush so attempts to gain further information as to the exact location or as to the agenda have been stonewalled by those officials who I've approached."

  "The G8, Crystal, is made up of what countries?"

  "That would be the United States, the United Kingdom, France, Germany, Italy, Japan, Canada, and Russia. This is a big surprise, Mark, because the regular summits are in June, the last one being the 38th G8 summit earlier this summer at Camp David. The 39th isn't to take place until next summer. Speculation is that it'll be in Fermanagh in Northern Ireland. What this mini-summit in the U.S. is all about is anyone's guess at this point."

  "Would that be like the 38th and a half G8 summit?"

  The correspondent grinned.

  "I don't know, Mark. This is the type of thing that I probably wouldn't have spent all that much time investigating except that one person I talked to used the word, secret."

  "Secret?"

  "That's correct, Mark. Either the word was said in jest or this is a secret summit."

  "Thank you, Crystal."

  The news anchorman lifted his eyes from his monitor to the camera.

  "That was Crystal Zalinees, reporting from Brussels on a possible, secret, G8 mini-summit somewhere in the southeast United States. After the break, more fires in the northwest and what you can do to lower your risk of colon cancer. Another diet breakthrough?"

  Parker paused the playback. "Okay. Fill me in. What's so important about a G8 mini-summit?"

  "You remember the day you arrested me for Doug's murder?"

  "How can I forget? That was only two days ago."

  "I met with Doug that morning, that is he just showed up at my hotel."

  "Yeah. You told me that."

  "He was an undercover snitch for the FBI, apparently trying to infiltrate this UIRA that had setup headquarters in Florida."

  "That's what you claimed and which has since been confirmed."

  "In his short conversation with me he said something about a summit. Until now I had no idea what it meant. I did discover, as Crystal said, that the next one could be in Northern Ireland, but that's at least nine months out. This news, that being a leak about a pending mini-summit in the southeast, sort of puts things in prospective. Initially it was believed that UIRA was preparing to ship a stock of weapons and explosives to the homeland for some particular event there. What if the event is a G8 mini-summit right here in Florida?"

  "Stretching it, wouldn't you say, CJ?" Parker said. "Exactly who would be attending such a summit?"

  "A regular summit is attended by the world leaders, that is presidents, prime ministers, chancellors, what have you. A mini-summit might not be so high level. Just a guess, really. I may be wrong about the entire thing; however, based on what we've learned from Josh, they've a WMD and they're getting ready to use it, somewhere."

  "WMD?"

  Stella, CJ and Parker all turned to look at Gracie, who'd been observing from the side. Her face had turned white."

  "What do you mean, WMD?"

  "Mom?"

  With that all four of them swung their attention to young Scott, standing in the foyer, between the bottom of the stairs and the front door.

  "What?" Gracie said, her voice sharp, impatient.

  "Can I go over to Jeremy's house?"

  "No!"

  The shock on Scott's face made it evident to CJ that such a forceful denial from his mother was uncommon. Even Parker looked surprised.

  Gracie looked between the three of them and then seemed to realize what she'd just said.

  "I'm sorry, Scott. Of course you can go over to Jeremy's. Be back in an hour."

  Scott continued to just look at her, his jaw still hanging open.

  "What are you waiting for?" his mother said. She made the shoo motion with her hand and forced a softness into her voice. "Go! Go! One hour."

  As though expecting that she might change her mind, Scott rushed out the door.

&
nbsp; Gracie turned to face her husband and her guests. "Sorry. I don't know what came over me. I really don't normally talk to my children like that."

  "It's okay," Stella said. "I'm not a mother but I am an aunt and I've watched my sister react in much the same way when there was a perceived threat to her family. You know exactly what a WMD is, don't you?"

  Gracie looked at the television, a dog frozen in motion in the middle of the screen, an advertisement for dog food. "Please turn that off, Parker and let's sit down."

  He did and when they were all seated she said, "I have what I've tried to convince myself is an irrational fear, a fear that terrorists or some foreign power will attempt to destroy our country with any means possible, including nuclear bombs."

  "A lot of people are afraid since 9/11," CJ said.

  Gracie nodded. "Yes, since that day it's been much worse with me. Tracy was two and Blake was four. Parker can tell you. I had all I could do to not pack my bags, take my babies and run for the hills."

  "It was a rough couple of years after that, and then Scott was born," Parker said.

  "Anyway," Gracie said, "I've had a low level of this fear all my life, given to me by my father and grandfather. When I said run for the hills, I meant the Tennessee hills. That's where I was raised, near the border of Tennessee and West Virginia. My daddy and his daddy were both hillbillies. They trusted no one and protected their families and property the only way they knew, with guns. When I turned eighteen I walked, or more like it, ran away from it all, but the fears they'd ingrained in me remained as my baggage. That was 1994. Seven years later, after I'd met and married this wonderful man and had two beautiful children, and thought that I'd found a great life, terrorist bastards flew planes into the towers. The fear still lives in me eleven years later because there is always something, some threat out there that's going to destroy my family.

  "Yes. I know what a weapon of mass destruction is. My father called it the weapon of final Armageddon. He could quote bible scripture to support its coming faster than anyone I knew, except maybe his father." She looked directly at CJ. "I don't even want to hear that they were right."

  CJ looked between Stella and Parker and then said, "You aren't going to hear those words from my mouth. I really do think your father was wrong. As far as a nuclear bomb is concerned, not to worry. The FBI believes that they're dealing with something chemical and not actually of mass destruction design. Something small and of low dispersal, such as into a room of selected people."

  "Like those attending the summit we just saw?"

  "Yes."

  Gracie considered that for a few moments. "What happens, though, if you kill off a bunch of presidents and prime ministers?"

  CJ took a deep breath. "That's a big question for sure." He stood. "If you don't mind, I need to make a phone call. After that we can talk some more about it."

  CJ sat on the patio watching dusk fall over the lake, his cell phone pressed to his ear. Gracie's last question was still replaying in his head. What would happen if you killed all the leaders of the G8? What kind of turmoil would the world fall into? Could that trigger the Armageddon as Gracie's father believed?

  "Dad," Josh said into CJ's ear. "Where are you?"

  "Why don't you just come out and say it?" CJ said.

  "Say what?"

  "What kind of trouble are you in now, Dad?"

  "Okay. What kind of trouble are you in now?"

  "I'm not in any trouble. Thanks for your concern, though. Stella and I just had a nice dinner with Detective DuPont and his family. Now we're hanging out at their house. You have any new developments?"

  "No."

  "Is that no new developments or no new developments that you're willing to share?"

  "Does it make any difference?"

  "Certainly. If I share with you will you share with me?"

  "Depends on what you're sharing."

  "You and Agent Taffer would make a good team."

  Josh didn't say anything.

  "Did you come up with the address of the place in Apollo Beach?"

  "Yes."

  "What did you find?"

  "Nothing."

  "Nothing?"

  "That's what I said."

  "No guns? No explosives?"

  "Not a thing, Dad."

  "What did you find? You sound rather frustrated."

  "We went in ready for an all out assault. Ended up scaring the hell out of the neighborhood, including the old couple who lived in the house. They're leasing from some guy living in New Jersey, through a property management agent."

  "Looked legit?"

  "Yes, it did. I just got back from there."

  "I was so sure."

  "So were we."

  "Thanks for letting me know. Have you seen the news about the summit?"

  "Summit, Dad? I thought we already talked about that."

  "That was more general. This is the G8 mini-summit about to be held here in the United States."

  "Mini-summit?"

  "That's what I said."

  "When?"

  "Don't know."

  "Where?"

  "Don't know, but it could be in Florida."

  All CJ could hear was some heavy breathing.

  "I figured that this was something the FBI should be on top of. You should be telling me, not me telling you."

  "Where are you getting your information?"

  "On the evening news. No idea what network. Considering that it is G8 and thus world leaders, I'd recommend you make a call to the secret service, homeland security, maybe the CIA, NSA, and BSA."

  "BSA?"

  "That's Boy Scouts of America. They may be running with it already."

  "You're a riot, Dad."

  "Anyway, that's all I was calling about. Just saw it on the news; thought I'd give you a heads up seeing as Douglas mentioned a summit just before he was killed."

  "Doubt it means anything, but I'll bring it up to Taffer... again."

  As CJ put away his phone he thought about how he wished he'd gotten at least a thank you from Josh and wondered how long it would be before that canyon between them would shrink away. He knew he was probably expecting too much after all the years of estrangement, but still, with what they'd been through together with Tommy Clark, CJ had thought that it'd all been put aside, or at least most of it. It was as though every time they talked or got together CJ was still having to pickaxe through the cold exterior. It did seem though that the ice was getting a little thinner. Josh volunteered information about the raid on the Apollo Beach house.

  And then he remembered the advice he'd given Josh just the day before concerning rising from rookie FBI agent to a seasoned professional. "Baby steps," he'd told him. Maybe that's how it would be to get his son back, a series of baby steps. A little over a month ago he had no idea where Josh was, didn't even know if he was alive. Now they were talking.

  "I assume you called your son," Parker said when CJ came back in. "Did they know about it?"

  "I don't think Josh did. But then he is a rookie."

  "And rookies don't know anything. I should call John Taffer."

  CJ held up his hand. "Do me a favor and don't. If Taffer doesn't already know about it, it'll be a feather in Josh's cap to be the one to tell him."

  "Do you think Josh will be smart enough to not mention where he got his information, to come up with a plausible explanation?"

  "Oh yeah. I think he can get creative."

  "Did they check out the house that Eddie Hall sold?" Stella asked.

  "They did, but that didn't go anywhere. There appears to be an older couple living there, leasing the place through a property management service. Owner lives up north."

  "So, what now?"

  "No idea. Let the FBI run with the summit angle while we stay out of the way?"

  "Fine by me," Stella said.

  "Me too," Gracie said, looking at her husband. "What I could use right now is a glass of wine." She looked at CJ and Stella. "How you about y
ou guys?"

  "What do you have?" CJ said.

  "Don't know much about wines. It's red and cheap."

  CJ laughed. "My kind of wine."

  Scott returned just as CJ and Stella were standing up to leave. He eyed the nearly empty bottle of wine, with distaste as far as CJ could tell, and headed up the stairs.

  "He have something against cheap wine?" CJ asked.

  Gracie waited until her son was out of earshot and then said, "Our youngest thought it would be cool to try a taste when the remainder of the family was otherwise occupied."

  "By the time he was discovered," Parker said, "he'd wiped out half a bottle, and it wasn't the cheap stuff either. The following twelve to fifteen hours weren't pretty."

  "I have to smile at his reaction whenever he sees a bottle of wine now," Gracie said.

  "How old was he?" Stella asked.

  "It was just last month."

  "He reminds me a lot of my nephew," Stella said. "Boys can certainly be a challenge."

  "Boys of all ages can be a challenge," Gracie said, grinning at Parker.

  "Ain't that the truth," Stella said.

  "Glad we aren't boys anymore," Parker said.

  Gracie and Stella snorted and laughed.

  CJ took Stella's hand. "Time to go."

  Parker walked them to the door. "Call me in the morning if you guys still need a backseat driver for something... anything."

  "You can count on it," CJ said.

  Back at the hotel, CJ and Stella sat in the dark, holding hands and looking out at the lights of St. Petersburg.

  "I like it here," Stella said.

  "You do?" CJ was surprised.

  "Except for the bombs and dead bodies, it's nice. Lots of green and water."

  CJ nodded his understanding. "Nice people, too. I could see Parker and Gracie becoming very good friends."

  "I think they already are."

  Minutes ticked by while they watched a slow moving light in the area where they knew there was only water.

  "How about tomorrow we walk down to a place I know of where one can hire sailboat time?" CJ said.

  She squeezed his hand. "Sure. No driving. Just sitting and cuddling."

  "Hard to cuddle with life jackets on," CJ said.