by Tom Fugate
“Are you going to keep after our former associate?” He asked and I nodded. “Good, that man was probably crazy before he developed a taste for drugs. He is a wild and rabid animal!”
“I was always told that there is only one way to deal with a rabid animal. You put it down. I will get him.” He smiled at my resolve.
We kept our course and soon were on the leeward side of a United States Navy destroyer that officially was on training maneuvers for drug interdiction. A zodiac came along side us and we put Yuri into the boat. The Bosun at the helm of the Zodiac told us he had heard radio traffic that someone had fired missiles at a Cuban gunboat. We all smiled innocently and wondered who could have done that. We could honestly say that no missiles had been fired. Rockets? Now rockets were another story. My four commando type friends were grinning as they also got into the Zodiac.
“Good working with you sir,” Matt spoke as he shook my hand. “It was a pleasure working with you.” He shook his head, “Maybe the stories about that crazy guy who went into Libya with Force Recon are true. Let me know if you need someone for another party.”
I looked at Jacob and he was trying to look innocent. They had started another story circulating about the agent who did all sorts of crazy stuff. The rumor mill would have stories about the James Bond type boat firing guided missiles at Cubans before I got back to land. I needed to be careful. A man could end up a legend at least in the Special Operations world. Hell someone might even decide to write a book. Jacob and I headed back to Key Largo. Now it was a matter of wrapping up some minor loose ends and waiting for the intel people to find Robertson. I have never liked to wait but this time I had no other choice. I could not capture what I could not find. Maybe I was just really upset that we had missed Robertson by such a short time. We were going to get him. If at all possible I was going to get him. Jacob would be there when I did. He had earned that right by covering my backside.
Chapter 32
Inspiration
As we headed back to Florida something was nagging at the back of my mind. My conversation with Yuri and my own experiences with Melvin were stirring something in my brain. Robertson was not a man who did anything on a whim unless he was extremely wasted. He had gone to Cuba after managing to stay hidden for over a month with everyone in law enforcement looking for him. Obviously that had been part of a preplanned escape. He had ordered stupid stunts pulled on me to test me and to get rid of people who were a pain in the ass. It had bothered me why a department that was part of the operation had been insistent on adding a new person to the mix really near the finale. They were already going to get credit for being part of the task force. Was Melvin Robertson afraid that someone was about to rat him out? No that might have been part of it but not really. We were securing the boat in Key Largo when it hit me. Someone else was using Melvin’s tactics of getting someone out of the way. Someone knew that Fred would be made. I had at first thought that somehow I had been found out, but in my mind I saw that Robertson was looking directly at Fred when it hit the fan. I had merely been a target of opportunity.
As soon as I got to my car I powered up the cell phone and called the safe house. I was hoping Sylvia was there. She had stayed in Florida with the task force to help hunt down our missing smuggler. She was due to head back to DC very soon if not already headed back. She answered the secure line on the third ring.
“Hello,” she sounded a bit unsure about answering that phone.
“Good, you are still there. I need you to get on the secure line to John. I need to know who shoehorned Fred in the op. I think someone is dirty and was trying to cover their tracks. They were trying to get rid of Robertson and Fred Jenkins.” I may have sounded a bit excited. Sudden revelations can do that to you.
“You just barely caught me. I am headed to the airport within the hour. I don’t need to call John; I checked on that when it happened. It just seemed odd but not odd enough to abort. Not at the time. I can tell you but it is going to cost you.”
“This is no time for blackmail. I need a name.”
“Not blackmail, just buy me dinner back in DC sometime.” She sounded sneaky.
“Dinner with a good looking woman? I can handle that. Now the name, please.”
“He was sent over by a Thomas Sawyer. I think he is a deputy chief in the sheriff’s department Fred was from.” I knew that name. Thomas Sawyer was the political type who had shown up at that first planning session uninvited.
“I will call you when I get back to NOVA and no I don’t need your number. I have sources. See you then.”
I think she giggled, “See you then.”
Sawyer had been checked six ways to Sunday and on into the next week so I knew he was either a lot smarter than he acted, in order to cover his tracks, or he was being used. He might not realize that he had been used but he struck me as the type that kept written records of everything. He knew who had asked for Fred’s assignment. Jacob and I both drove back to the safe house to spend the night. Sylvia was long gone when we got there. We sat at the kitchen table eating the pizza and drinking beer purchased with some of our newly liberated funds. The other bag had gone with our commando types. Jacob and I had the duffel, which we were going to turn over to General Fleming. We had kept the other small bag that contained money, cigars and liquor. One box of the cigars was going to my boss along with the duffel bag of money.
We had time so we talked about anything other than the task at hand. He told me stories of Viet Nam and the Legion. I told him the story of how I had ended up here and some other things. He had never heard how the Libyan trip had begun. Before we headed off to our bedrooms we opened a bottle of the Russian Vodka. We had put that bottle in the freezer before we had even opened the pizza box. We drank like Russians and we did not drink like Russians. We each gave a toast and tossed back a couple of shots of the aviation fuel in the liquor bottle. That is the drinking like Russians. We did not empty the bottle that is the not drinking like Russians part.
The next morning we found ourselves in one car and headed toward a sheriff’s department in Collier County to the northwest of Miami/Dade. We parked the Porsche in a Police only parking space. A young deputy was stepping toward the car as we got out and saying something about not parking there. By the time I was standing up the kid had a US Marshal’s badge in his face. Jacob’s ID was DEA. The kid muttered a “sorry sir” and disappeared. At the front desk an older man in a deputy’s uniform was directing traffic through the office.
“Can I help you gentlemen?” He had the tone of voice of a man who would be intimidated easily. I had my credentials in my hand and in plain view of his face. Jacob held his up beside mine.
“Where is Thomas Sawyer’s office?” I kept my tone even and firm. I just wanted him to know that this was a serious visit.
“I will have someone take you there. Is he expecting you?” A stupid thing to ask a man with Federal ID. If Sawyer had been expecting us he would have told the desk officer. Feds can be like the Spanish Inquisition, no one expects them.
“No, just tell us where the office is.” He pointed down the hallway to the left.
“Number 215, his name is on the door.” We turned to go in the indicated direction. I knew the officer would be on the phone as soon as my back was turned.
I heard the phone ring as we stepped up to the door. “Oh, my God,” was the only part of the conversation that I heard. Then I did something decent, up until then I was still showing my displeasure on his earlier indiscretion, I knocked on his door. I heard the phone click down and a shaky voice said, “Come in.”
Jacob had been told the story of the meeting in Georgia. He grinned at me and said, “That was just plain mean, but I like it.”
“I didn’t know I wasn’t supposed to be there. I got a memo telling me to go. We haven’t been able to figure out who sent it.” He was almost babbling and he was very scared.
“I am not here about that. You are in the clear. I need to know who sent Fred Jenkins to the Miami are
a operation.” I held up a hand before he began to babble again. “I know you signed the orders. I need to know who recommended him for the assignment and why.”
He visibly relaxed when he knew he was not our target. “When the Sheriff said to send someone I asked the Chief of Detectives for a recommendation. He said to send Fred. I thought he was too young for something like that but he had been doing outstanding work on drug cases around here so I sent him. I swear I did not know you were involved.” He was looking nervous again.
I had known that a call had gone out for additional bodies for the final takedown. Those bodies had included extra undercover officers to pad out my crew. We had purposefully asked for people from outlying departments to lessen the chance that any of Robertson’s people knew them. These people would also be the ones who actually testified in court as to what they had seen and what had gone down. If my testimony was proven unnecessary so much the better for my long term career. That is why someone from this department had been assigned.
“I need the man’s name and did you notice anything odd when he recommended Fred?”
“He looked almost relieved. I thought it odd at the time, but I was busy that day and forgot about it. His name is Kevin Simmons.” He was thoughtful for a moment and then spoke, “He looked really relieved. Strange. Do you need to talk with him?”
“Not right now and please do not tell him we asked about him. In fact don’t tell anyone we asked about him. Thank you. We will be back in touch.” We turned and walked back out into the hallway. He got up and followed us to the door and stepped out of his office and into the hall.
“Is there anything else I can do to help you with this matter?”
“No you have been most helpful already.” I said this in just the right tone of voice to carry down the hall. I held out my hand and he hesitated and then shook it. Jacob shook his hand also. “We will be in touch if there is anything else we need.” He went back to his office and closed the door behind him as he entered. We waved to the officer at the front desk as we walked out.
“Shaking that guy’s hand where the other people in the office could see was a nice thing to do. I figured you would tear him a new one.”
“Well, I know the guy is clean. He is a bureaucrat and a political animal. He might be a lousy officer, but I really was not too mad after the initial vent that day. I might be a killer, but I am still a basically nice guy.” Somehow I kept a straight face when I said that, Jacob almost had a coughing spasm to keep from laughing.
Chapter 33
New Intel
Using the cell phone in my car I called John’s office at the agency. He had left Florida a couple of weeks before. He answered on the third ring. After asking about our “fishing trip” of which he probably had the details by the time we had made it back to Key Largo. It would not have surprised me if he and the General had been watching a real time satellite feed of us going in and out of Cuba.
“John I need someone in the Collier County Sheriff’s office checked out completely right down to is he a boxers or brief man.”
“This is not that Sawyer guy is it? He is not only clean he is boring as hell.”
“No we need to do a deep check on the Chief of Detectives. His name is Kevin Simmons. Sawyer said he is the man who recommended Fred Jenkins and actually looked relieved when Sawyer took the hint. I have a feeling that he did not have knowledge of the operation beyond the fact that it was happening. I also think he had a good idea who it was aimed at. My theory is that Jenkins was put into place as a signal to Robertson. It suddenly hit me the other day that before the shooting started Robertson was not looking at me. He was looking at Fred. He knew Fred was a cop and that set him off. Simmons had probably gotten a picture of Fred to Melvin and told him that this guy was in the operation. Simmons only knew one of the undercover guys. He still has no idea who I am. See if you can get the information ASAP.”
“I guess you are going to spend a few nights in the safe house. I can call on the secure line and fax stuff in. I will get it together as quick as we can. Be careful. There are probably people around that area who might be worried enough about you to try and take you out.”
“Yes, mother.” I could see him shaking his head and rolling his eyes. “Seriously, we are not going to be out of the house too much. The quicker we get the information the sooner we leave town.”
“I’ll get you what we can find out ASAP.”
“Always.”
I hung up the phone and Jacob and I headed north up US1. We stopped for dinner, ate and talked. We did not try and plan anything for the simple reason that we did not know what tomorrow would have us doing. When we got back to the safe house he went to bed fairly early. I wanted to but I was too keyed up. About 2AM I woke up staring at a television screen that I had fallen asleep in front of. I got up and went to bed after verifying the alarm system status. I woke up to the smell of coffee. It was about 8:30 in the AM. Jacob had a big pot of coffee ready and was making pancakes. The coffee was the typical brew of Navy men, but I did not mind the raw material that was the basis of the coffee. It was very good and I needed the serious wakeup of a massive caffeine injection. The pancakes were great. It turns out that his mother was a southern girl who had done some serious work in restaurants. He had paid attention to her tutelage. Breakfast was outstanding.
The secure line rang and then the fax machine rang before I could answer the phone. Paper began to roll out of the fax as I got the phone off of its cradle. The voice on the other end was John and he sounded wide awake.
“That was a good turn around on the information. Did you pull an all-nighter?”
“That is one of the advantages of being in a position of authority. I have other people pull all-nighters. Besides give some of the computer types a job to do and they are like bulldogs with a bone. The really odd thing is that Simmons did a really weak job of hiding things. The money trail unraveled as soon as we began to check things outside of his home county. The man was totally clean at home and even made some very good drug busts.”
“I hear a ‘but’ on that sentence. Don’t tell me all of his busts were Robertson competitors? Had anyone began to check him out?” I had an idea who had been checking up on him.
“Someone from the DEA talked with Fred yesterday afternoon. He handed over notebooks he had kept. It seems that he noticed that his chief of detectives busts were almost on a schedule. At least once a month he was popping some big load that was coming in. Being young and ambitious Fred got curious about that. The arrestees always seemed to be working for the same crews. He had not said anything since no one had asked him.”
“Arrests of the competition in a small enough size and backwater location would not draw news hounds. An interesting way of getting rid of the competition. I figure that Fred had not mentioned this to anyone because he has been basically out of it a lot lately. When the boss picks you for a plum assignment you second guess yourself and figure that you must be wrong in your suspicions of them.” It all made sense.
“Exactly my thoughts. DEA, IRS, FBI, Florida State Police and a bunch of other people want Simmons’ ass. Everyone is getting arrest warrants ready. However a white-haired gentleman whose usual office is down the hall from me has arranged for you to get the first interview. Do it today.”
“Gentleman?” I would not have said that about the General to anyone other than a close friend and coworker.
“Well it did take an act of congress, but he has the papers to verify the title of Gentleman.” He laughed and I thought that I heard another guffawing sound in the background so the phone was on a speaker.
“He is in the room with you isn’t he? He made the trip to Florida.”
“Damn right I did. Officially I am on a golfing trip with friends. Unofficially I am in place to kick some serious ass should it be needed. I had planned to go visit a certain sheriff whose might be upset with someone interrogating his chief of detectives. I knew his father, served with him in fact. The son
is a good man and a fine sheriff but like most elected officials he needs to be gently slapped down occasionally,” the voice that leaned closer to the speaker was a bit raspy with a southwest Virginia accent. He was from the same mountain region that I was, just different generations and different schools. “There are times when I think that the gentleman part didn’t take. Get to this guy early. Lee, do what you have to but please, no marks.” I heard him chuckle.
“Sir, would I resort to physical torture for anything less than a terror threat?” He knew I would not.
“No, but he doesn’t know that. So you have the advantage. Use it and let me know what you find out. Be careful and try not to die. Thanks for the cigars.” I did not tell him there was a second box. Those were for the Padre.
“You are welcome. I will know something by later today. I do have one thought that might help make Simmons talk. Can you have someone show Yuri a picture of Kevin Simmons?” Paper was still coming out of the fax machine. From the size of the rolled up thermal paper coming out of the machine they had found out a lot in a short time. This joker was toast. I just wanted a little something extra to hold over his head in case he thought he was smarter than me.
“We can do that. Care to tell us why?” The voice was General Fleming’s.
“If he had contact with Yuri, a known KGB agent, I can go right past corruption and drug related charges. I can threaten him with treason. You taught me sir that any leverage is a very handy tool to have. I am going hard on him. He is going to talk to me before any lawyer knows he exists.”
“It might work. I will try and have it done by early afternoon. That idea also has the advantage of maybe giving us more leverage on Yuri.” I could almost see the sneaky grin on his face.
“Lee, there is a pager in the upper right-hand drawer of that desk. If I can’t get in touch with you I will page all sevens if Yuri recognizes him.” This voice belonged to John. “Be careful.” I heard the connection cut off with an audible click.