“Don’t worry about me, sister. It’s not infected. I looked in the mirror. Can’t reach around too well, though. I’d appreciate it if you’d dress it back up for me. First, do me a favor and get my daughter and that Cajun boyfriend of yours down here. We need to make a plan.”
Sue ordered him onto the couch. The desk light turned to illuminate the wound she examined it for signs of infection. Satisfied for the moment that it was ok, she started to clean the area around the incision. Antibiotic cream applied, she was just starting to tape the bandages in place when Mel and Trufante entered the room.
Wood stood and examined Sue’s work. He gave a quick nod to her and began. “We need to head out now. That sorry ass Vice President has a surprise coming.”
“You’re not going for a boat ride like that. Look out there.” Mel looked out the open garage door toward the canal. “The flags are almost straight out. I haven’t been around here for a while, but I bet that still means it’s bumpy as hell out there.”
“Bumpy, my ass,” Trufante said. “It’s damned nautical. That there’s sitting on the porch, beer-drinking weather.”
“No matter, you candy ass. We’re going on the bay side. That wind is out of the south. We’ll be in the lee of it.”
Mel looked at Sue, knowing where this was going. “How much can he really do?”
“Well, I’m not a doctor and I can’t give —”
Mel cut her off. “Nobody’s gonna sue you, least of all him. That’s Mr. Personal Responsibility there.”
“If the stitches open, it’s gonna be ugly. If he gets banged around and hits that spot it could do internal damage. If nothing else, it’s gonna hurt.”
“See that? I’m good. Let’s go.” Wood stood and headed out the door. He hobbled down to Mac’s boat and struggled over the side, making sure to turn his face away from the group to conceal his pain.
“There’s no stopping him.” Mel said, hands on hips, shaking her head. “I’ll go fix him some food and pack some stuff. Tru, get the boat ready. Sue, would you come along and keep an eye on the two cripples?”
The engines started, and Wood called out, “Get a move on, girl. I’m in no mood.”
“You’ll wait for me or I’ll swim out there and kick your old ass.”
Wood gave her a grin. That’s my girl.
Chapter 33
Garrett scanned the CNIC Inspector General’s website. He’d never even considered filing a complaint before, but what he had just witnessed might change that. Key West Naval Air Station was a conglomeration of many departments, many of them belonging to other branches of the military. As Master of Arms, the Navy’s military police, he was responsible for base security. Jim Gillum had been entrenched as base commander long before the twenty-eight year old Petty Officer had been assigned there. He knew the man’s reputation for total conformity, not even getting close to grey areas. Command ineffectiveness was the term often used to describe the many career men with long-term postings and no hope for promotion. They were all over the military, and usually had these types of base assignments.
The call from Gillum had been non-routine, to say the least. The only time he’d ever had contact with his base commander was for a review or recommendation of one of Garrett’s subordinates. The red flags were up like hurricane warnings as soon as he’d taken the call. He’d had no choice but to comply with a direct order from his commander, but what he’d witnessed in Marathon could not be ignored.
As Master of Arms, he was confident in his knowledge of Naval law, and detaining an American citizen on American soil was not included in the ‘you can do this’ chapter. In fact, the U.S. armed forces were prohibited from Naval operations on U.S. soil. The abduction and restraint of an American citizen could not go unreported, no matter what the Base Commander said.
The website listed the contact information, easier to access here than the dozen binders he had to constantly update resting on a shelf behind his desk. He wasn’t sure whether to be worried about filing the report. The Navy was supposed to protect whistle blowers, but they also had an old boys network that ran deep. If this report fell into the wrong hands his career would be over. Feeling he had to do the right thing, hand trembling slightly, he clicked on the email link and quickly closed the screen as someone entered the office. A few minutes later he reopened it. The pause had caused doubt, his future was uncertain if he hit the submit button.
What if it happened to someone I knew was the final rationalization for hitting send. Once the email was gone into the vapor of the internet, he sat back and breathed deeply. For better or worse, he’d just done something that could not be undone. A moment later, the screen flashed with an incoming message. He opened it, expecting an auto-response that his message had been received and would be reviewed in due course. It was not. The message asked for an immediate phone call.
He went off base to make the call, not wanting any chance of being overheard. Pacing the sidewalk off US1, he dialed the number. Again he pondered his future and if this was the right move, but it was too late. He had to follow through with the complaint now, or they could investigate him.
“Bill Gordon.”
“Yes sir, this is Petty Officer Garrett in Key West. Sir, you requested that I call.”
“Yes, Petty Officer, thank you. Are you in a place we can talk freely?”
“Yes, sir, I am off base.”
“Please describe the incident and surrounding circumstances to the best of you recollection.”
Garrett went on to describe Gillum’s actions on the Marathon trip. Gordon allowed him to finish before asking questions. The question and answer session, was more of an interrogation. The tone of Gordon's voice became more serious as the conversation developed. He paused abruptly when Garret mentioned that he had overheard something about a bomb.
Then, Gordon changed direction. “Tell me exactly what you heard.”
Garrett recounted the conversation he’d overheard, and finally Gordon answered. “As I see it, you witnessed not only the illegal detention of an American citizen, but the cover-up of a potential threat on our soil.”
Stunned that the cover-up of the operation was more damming than the detention, Garrett waited for Gordon to continue.
“You did the right thing, Petty Officer. I’ll take it from here and make sure you’re protected. Please leave me a number where I can reach you.”
Garrett gave him his cell number and disconnected. He had a half-hour before he was due back at the base, so turned and started walking, hoping to clear his racing mind.
***
Gordon set the phone down, grabbed his notes, and went next door to his CO. The situation laid out, the men just looked at each other.
The Commanding Officer started, “What a mess. Arresting a captain and base commander is going to ruffle some feathers somewhere. I’ve got a buddy down there that runs the Underwater Training School for the Army. They’re housed in the same base. Let me try him and see what’s going on down there.” He picked up his phone and dialed. The conversation was short and one-sided. Gordon listened on as he explained what was happening. Finally he sighed and put the phone down.
“Looks like our boy is a career guy, going nowhere. He does squat — neither good or bad.” He looked at his computer screen. “Gillum’s record is clean as a whistle. He’s been based on or near that station since the ’60s. Saw active duty during the Cuban Missile Crisis. After that, strictly a desk jockey.” He sat back, silent for a minute. “Arresting him is bound to end up in the press, and we don’t need that. Why don’t you head down there and have a chat with the guy? He’s been serving almost fifty years. Maybe he just needs to go out to pasture. Email me a summary, will you? Good job.”
Gordon went back to his office. The evidence clearly suggested that Gillum was on some kind of rogue mission, trying to recover a bomb. Interesting, he’d just read that Ward had served in Key West as well. Intrigued at the long shot that there might be a connection, he pulled up the V
P’s record and compared it to Gillum’s. Looking even further, he noted that Gillum was in armaments and Ward had been a pilot in the same division during the Cuban Missile Crisis.
Not a fan of the Vice President, along with most of the military, he tried to remain impartial and give the man the benefit of the doubt. He considered both sides, but had a job to do.
Chapter 34
The weekly cabinet meeting was underway when Vice President Ward walked in, late as usual. He took his seat and opened the folder laid out in front of him. The President, soon to be a lame duck, was strictly in legacy building mode. He’d been that way for months now. His recent motto, coined by Ward, was Don’t screw it up. Avoid a crisis, delay any hearings, and hope nothing new surfaced in the world at large in the next few months. And God forbid, no press conferences.
Ward was not opposed to this. He’d actually helped author it. Anything attached to the current administration, especially if it were bad, was bound to reflect on him as well. With days left in his campaign, he needed clear skies and following seas. He remembered the term from his Navy days. A smooth ride, no mistakes until Tuesday and, if the polls held up, he’d be president.
The meetings were getting shorter and shorter as the election neared. Decisions were put on the back burner for the next administration to handle. One by one, the cabinet members and their aides exited the room, leaving the President and Vice President alone.
“How’s the campaign shaping up, Joe?” the President asked. “I’ve been looking at the polls, and it looks like you’re pretty solid. Lock up Florida and you’re going to be sitting in my chair.”
“I’m headed down there now.” Ward skipped the usual ass kissing formalities — he was near exhaustion. “A stop in Tampa and then it’s all about Dade and Broward Counties.”
The current President had raised the height of the bar for future elections. He was an experienced and formidable campaigner. His campaign strategies would be in text books.“You’ve got a great team behind you.” He’d assembled the team for himself four years ago, and knew they were the best. Ward winning this campaign would be another feather in his legacy cap. Ward was clearly riding the President’s coat tails. “What can I do to help you?”
The offer, although phrased as a question, was really not. The President’s ego would not permit him to sit on the sidelines and watch his underling win without his face prominently in the foreground.
“What do you have in mind?” Ward knew the rules as well. Unlike some past presidents, whose appearances were liabilities to the candidates, the President was popular and would be an asset.
“Why don’t we tag team Florida? If we’re both out there, the press will have to cover both of us. That means your opponent will get less coverage. We’ll be front and center — right where you need to be. Then we can meet up on Sunday and do some kind of church thing for the conservatives.”
Ward had to admit that the man was a master. “Great. I was going to do a rally Saturday afternoon in Miami. Focus on the anniversary of the Cuban Missile Crisis. Tossing Kennedy’s name out there never hurt anyone.”
“Done. I’ll be there. Then we can go to church on Sunday. That’ll be a great photo op, walking out of church.”
The two men clasped hands and did a quick man hug, then collected their things and headed out.
“One more thing, Joe. Honor the veterans. It’s close to Veteran’s Day. Bringing in some military for the rally will make this more colorful.”
“I’ve got some ideas on that, sir.”
***
Back in his office across the street in the Old Executive Office Building, Ward sat across from his campaign manager.
“We need a good spot for this rally.” Ward focused on the man working his iPad, his mind racing through ideas.
“I’m checking out some spots right now. I’m thinking something close to Homestead, just south of Miami, would be good. We don’t have enough notice to reserve a big-time venue. The security alone would be impossible to arrange. Homestead Air Force Base may be too military looking for us, but Bayfront Park looks better. It’s close to the base. They can set up the security for the President quickly, and there will be plenty of uniforms from the base around for show.”
“Sounds good, let’s do it. We ought to add some Navy men to the mix. I’ve got a buddy who’s the Captain of the Naval station in Key West. I want him in a prominent place.”
“Got it. Get me his contact info and I’ll set it up.”
Ward hit the intercom button on his phone and called for his aide, who walked in, phone to her ear as usual. She hung up as she made eye contact. “Sir?”
“You guys need to make some arrangements. I’ll leave you to it.” As an afterthought, he asked for her phone.
He stepped out of the office and dialed Gillum’s number. There was static as he answered.
“Jim, you there?” Ward asked, trying to break through the static.
“On the road, sir. Going to take care of our problem right now.”
“Good. I need you in Homestead tomorrow afternoon. Bring it with you.”
“Shouldn’t be a problem.”
“Make sure. I’m counting on you.”
Chapter 35
“What up, Behzad? What brings you to my humble business?”
Behzad cringed as they walked in the door of the UHaul dealer. Nothing was going his way today — some kind of karma, he guessed. The clerk, a customer of his, was Key West cool. UHaul uniform shirt untucked, short sleeves rolled up showing some ink, a few too many buttons undone to reveal nothing anyone really wanted to see. He had enough hair gel in his spikes to reflect the fluorescent lighting. The mandatory earrings and nose ring adorned his freshly shaved face. All in all, it couldn’t be worse.
“You sure are well known here, Behzad.”
He ignored the comment. Cesar and now this dude, whose name eluded him. His associations were not looking good to the intolerant Ibrahim. He thought about buying a prayer rug and getting tight with Allah, just to make up for it.
“We need to rent a truck,” Ibrahim said.
“That’s what we do. Hey Behzad, that was some party the other night.”
“Enough. We need a truck.”
“What’s up with your friend? It’s the Keys, man, chillax.”
Sweat broke out on Behzad’s face. He leaned over the counter and whispered to the clerk, “I’ll make it worth your while if you help my friend out here.”
The clerk was all business now. “What size truck, and for how long? I’ll hook you up with our best deal.”
“Thank you,” Ibrahim said.
“Something like that.” He pointed outside. “That will work. We need it for several days.”
“No problem, you can have that one. I’ll give it to you for a week at a special rate.” He winked at Behzad, who felt like he was about to throw up.
“Very well. Any problem if we pay in cash?”
“No, cash is good. Just can’t insure it.” The clerk looked proud of himself. “Give me a grand for the deposit and I’ll refund the difference when you bring it back.”
Ibrahim counted out ten $100 bills from his pocket.
The clerk grabbed it and handed over the keys. “Take care of that truck now, you didn’t buy any insurance. No hazardous materials.” He winked at Behzad again.
***
“You don’t look so well,” Ibrahim said as Behzad pulled out of the lot.
“I’m just not used to driving a truck.”
“First the drug dealers, now this man, you sure it’s not your associations here? You have some interesting friends.”
“Key West is an interesting place.” Behzad rolled down the window and moved toward the door, trying to put as much space as possible between him and Ibrahim. The thought of opening the door and bailing onto the street began to cross his mind. The last thing he had wanted when he contacted Ibrahim was for his life to be under a fundamentalist microscope. Meeting his associates
and seeing how he lived was not part of the plan.
The tension mounted as they drove in silence, retracing their route from this morning. As they neared Marathon, Ibrahim appeared anxious.
“The infidel, we have not heard from him. I don’t trust him. Do you suppose he just took our money?”
Behzad was thankful for a distraction from himself. “You’re right, he should have called and checked in by now.” Deception was in Behzad’s DNA. His brain churned, working out the best way to find him. “He needs a boat. We could check the boat rentals and ramps.”
“There're boat rentals and ramps every ten feet around here,” Ibrahim said, glancing at either side of the road. They were just passing a sign for a boat ramp at 33rd Street. “We might as well start there.”
“It’s a shot in the dark. He could be anywhere.” Behzad was not sure how he wanted this to play out. His system was strung out from too much partying and not enough sleep. He’d finished his stash in the restroom at the truck rental, leaving a small pile for the clerk. He should have left him more, but greed overtook him. The road to paradise was paved with potholes.
“We need to start somewhere. He’s either going to buy the cheapest boat he can, or rent one. He said that he wrecked a rental boat last week, so I don’t think he can rent another. We’ve got nothing to lose.”
Chapter 36
They were back in the interrogation room. Doans had a bag of fast food in front of him. “I guess you found something.”
“I confirmed part of your story. They were gone, though,” Jules said.
“Not my problem.” He was stuffing fries into his mouth, his other hand on the burger. When he needed a drink, he leaned over and sipped through the straw. No one was taking his food.
“Depends what you want worse. I could hold you on suspicion of terrorist activity until Homeland Security decides what to do, or just lock you up on assault and reckless endangerment and let the DA’s office deal with it. Either way, you’re not walking out of here. I’d change my attitude if I was you.”
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