by Scott Cook
However, not being a soft touch myself, I gave it right back to him, “Well, well. The famous wreck diver. Have a seat.”
Brody seemed a little disappointed that I hadn’t flinched, “Thanks. So you heard of me?”
I smiled thinly, “I have.”
Brody smirked at that, “Let me guess… you don’t approve of me disturbing the graves of brave dead sailors, right?”
I leaned back in my chair and assumed a pose of indifference by putting an index finger to my jaw, “Did I say that, Mr. Brody?”
“A lot of people have a problem with it,” Brody said, “They don’t understand the good work my team and I do.”
“Uh-huh,” I offered.
Foster raised an eyebrow, “Like anything in today’s world, everybody’s got an opinion, Mr. Jarvis. We’re just curious as to your stand on it.”
I slid open the top drawer of my desk and withdrew my pipe. I began to fill it from the leather tobacco pouch and lit it with a zippo. A very cool customer, this Jarvis. Very Sherlock Holmesian.
Thanks to my now openable window, I could puff away in the office without stinking the joint out. Of course, there was a downside to this. Brody illustrated it by pulling a pack of Camels from his jeans pocket. He shook out a pill and stuck it in his pursed lips. He then leaned forward and waved the cigarette at me suggestively.
“A Camel man, eh?” I asked as I lit it for him. I pulled an ashtray from the desk and laid it on the top in front of my guest, “Just like the real tough guys smoke. No filters for a man’s man, huh?”
“You got a problem?” Brody bristled.
“That depends on you two gents,” I said, puffing on my far more sophisticated smoking implement, “You stroll into my office and try to crush the bones in my hand and then want to know if I have a problem with your business. I don’t know you, Brody. So far nobody has offered any explanation for this visit, so why not get to it already?”
Foster grinned, “Why do I feel like I’m in the middle of a pissing match?”
Brody chuckled, “Because you are, Greg. Jarvis and me are a couple of hard numbers, I guess. I’m glad of it. And you did a pretty good job of applying the pressure too, gumshoe.”
“Yeah,” I said, growing weary of this already. Of course, this could not be a coincidence, so I leaned back again and waited.
“Jack wants to hire you,” Foster said, “Or maybe it’s we want to hire you.”
“Oh?” I asked Foster, “Things slow at your office this week? Last I heard, you had half a dozen guys on staff.”
Foster chuckled, “Eight.”
“Impressive,” I said, “So if Jack here already has something going with you, then why in the world would you two gents want to do business with me? I am, after all, the competition.”
Foster scoffed, “No offense, Jarvis… but I’m not worried.”
“Okay,” I said expansively, “I’m no threat to you. So why are you boys here?”
“I’m on a project,” Brody said, “An important one, and I need a guy with special skills to work with me. A guy who can investigate, who knows boats, who can dive and who doesn’t piss himself when things get rough.”
I shrugged, “And Foster can’t supply that?”
Foster shrugged in return, “It’s a bit out of my line. Most of my operatives are your garden variety investigators. Insurance, cheating spouses, that kind of thing.”
“I need a man’s man for this,” Brody said, “A guy can’t be pushed around.”
I eyed Foster for a long moment, “From what I know of you, Mr. Foster—“
“Call me Greg, for Christ’s sake,” Foster said amiably, “And call him Jack. Let’s knock off the formality, what do you say?”
“Okay, Greg,” I said, “Anyway, from what I know of you, you’re an ex-Marine. Did two tours in the first Gulf War. You’re about fifty and still fit and ready for action. Seems like Jack here has already got his man.”
Foster laughed, “I can still handle myself, true… and good for you on your intel… but I’m primarily a business man now. I’m the front for my organization, you know what I mean? Not as mobile as I once was, in terms of that.”
“I need a guy who’s lean and ready to move,” Brody said, “Greg’s on board with me, as a consultant, but I need a special kind of guy who can operate independently and yet work with him, too.”
I frowned, “Sounds like I’ll be under your thumb, Greg. Not sure I like that. No offense, it’s just that I work alone.”
“Exactly,” Foster said, “Jack will hire you, and you and I will coordinate.”
“So what’s this job entail?” I asked casually. Inside, though, there was a red alert blaring.
“I’m looking for a ship,” Brody said, “In the Gulf. A ship that went down just after the end of WW2. A ship that’s not on the books, at least not any books that the general public can read. A spec ops mission that went sour.”
“Do tell,” I urged.
Brody smirked, “Oh no, I can’t reveal anything until I know you’re on board.”
I sighed, “I don’t take a job unless I know the details. I don’t like getting caught with egg on my face… or facing situations in which I don’t know all the facts. It’s a good way to get bitten on the ass.”
“Precisely,” Foster said, “And I feel the same. This is a sensitive matter and we’ve got to keep a tight lid on it.”
“Is it illegal?” I asked, “If you’re going after some murky mystery ship that the government doesn’t want us to know about… well, that sounds like trouble to me.”
“You afraid of a little trouble?” Brody needled.
“Trouble is my business,” I stated flatly, “As long as I know the trouble up front. What’s in it for me?”
“Ten grand for a couple of weeks of your time,” Brody said, “And if you help me find and recover what I’m looking for… a lot more. Enough so that you could retire if you wanted to.”
I pretended to be intrigued. Well, I was intrigued but not exactly for the reasons these men were stating. I allowed some greed to filter into my voice, “Oh yeah? Sounds like a big promise… a lot of selling, but what am I buying, Jack?”
Brody sighed, “There’s a downed submarine out there that I want. It’s got a cargo I want. Some things that could be very valuable, both to history and to the crew who finds it.”
I nodded, “Okay. So what would I be doing for this bread?”
“I’ve got to keep this team small,” Brody said, “First, we’ve got to narrow down where this boat is. Then we’ve got to confirm it. Once I find the damned thing, then I can go in with a salvage team. But until then, I want this to be a small operation. Just a few people who know what’s at stake. So far, that means Foster, me, a couple of my best guys… and you.”
I shrugged, “I still don’t get it. I’m no salvage diver. Sure, I’m qualified to dive… but so what? What is it that I bring to this party?”
Foster and Brody exchanged a look. Foster leaned in, “You are the shadow man. The guy who can snoop around and learn things we can’t. A guy who can get old man Lambert to talk.”
There it was. That was what I expected. I schooled my face so as to reveal nothing. I simply puffed away on my pipe, the very picture of unflappability.
“We know you’ve met him,” Foster said, “We know you met his granddaughter.”
I considered the two men before me for a long moment. Finally I asked, “And how the Christ do you know that?”
“It’s our job to know,” Brody said with a gleam of something in his eye. It wasn’t something I liked.
“Jack and I tried talking to him,” Foster said, “He gave us the brush off. But I’ve had one of my people keeping an eye on the woman. We know you were with her last night.”
“Hard life, huh Jarvis?” Brody asked with a wink, “Wouldn’t mind cuddling up to that one myself.”
“So you two assholes spy on Audrey Lambert and on me,” I said in a hard tone, “And you think
that’s just okay with me?”
Brody scoffed, “There’s a lot at stake, Jarvis. I gotta do what I gotta do.”
“Don’t be offended,” Foster said, holding up a hand, “Surveillance is part of our business. You’ve done more than your fair share, too. Let’s not get sensitive, here.”
“I don’t like the idea of you two scoping me,” I said, tapping my pipe into the ashtray, “Not at all.”
“Then work with us,” Foster said, “Because if you’re not with us…”
“Yeah,” I said flatly, “Scary shit.”
“This is the chance of a lifetime, Jarvis,” Brody insisted, “A real adventure. It’s right up your alley, as Greg puts it.”
“And I suppose,” I said, “that my primary job here is to wheedle what info I can out of the Lamberts? Play double agent or some shit?”
Brody stubbed out his smoke, “Whatever it takes.”
I blew out my breath, “Let me think about it.”
Brody rose suddenly, “You think about it. Until tomorrow morning. You decide which team you want to play for. But as of nine o’clock tomorrow, you pick your side, understand?”
I rose as well along with Foster and locked eyes with the salvager, “You threatening me, Mister?”
Brody only smiled thinly and said nothing.
Foster treated me to what must be his big public relations smile, “It’s not like that, Scott. It’s just we need to know so we can move forward. Let’s talk in the morning unless you make up your mind before then. I’ll leave my card.”
Foster dropped a business card on my desk and led the way out. Brody followed and turned around at my outer office door. He shot me with his thumb and forefinger and smiled big.
“Curioser and curioser…” I muttered.
Chapter 9
I found myself in a bit of a pickle.
Here I had two potential clients… well, one had actually hired me and given me a retainer… and both were the direct enemies of the other. Ironically, it would behoove me to play both sides against the middle, at least in terms of working for my true client.
What bothered me was that Foster and Brody knew far too much. They knew about Audrey Lambert and where she was staying. They knew I’d met with Henry Lambert that very morning. They’d said so. Clearly Foster had at least one or two operatives tailing me and Audrey.
Finding the old man wasn’t any big stretch. I’d found out that he’d lived in that house since the early nineties when he retired.
There was a big unanswered question in my mind. How did Brody know about the submarine?
Sure, he was looking for a phantom boat that never actually existed… yet that story had to come from someplace, right? And if Brody could find out about it, then wasn’t it possible he might know about the real boats that went down?
Could he in truth be searching for the Bull Shark and the Ariovistus and only playing along with the story about the Dogfish and her cargo of gold?
I couldn’t be sure, yet something told me that Brody had more under his hat then he let on. Lambert had his secrets and Brody had his. After all, the idea of a German U-boat loaded with tons of gold was a bit hokey. It was the kind of tall tale that historians and treasure hunters alike loved to fantasize about.
It was far too convenient that Brody would fall for it. Far too convenient that he wanted a tiny location team.
I sighed and swiveled. Morgan sauntered into the inner office and up to me and put his head on my leg.
“You have to go outside, doggy pants?” I asked.
I knew the answer, of course. That was his signal and I was well trained. I snapped on his leash and he led me to the elevator. It was a beautiful day anyway, so I decided we’d stroll over to Lake Eola Park and he could enjoy a fabulous evacuation in one of the city’s finest recreational settings.
It’s an important thing, as all dog people know. It’s vital that we two-leggers choose fine locations for our masters to do their business.
Yes, that’s right… we know who’s really in charge.
We made our way east a couple of blocks and onto the quad-like entrance to the park on Rosalind Avenue. I decided that a clockwise course was the best thing, so Morgan and I made our way to the left and past the band shell. There was an open area of grass right there complete with a poop bag stand and a receptacle. At Morgan’s insistence, we left the concrete path and he enjoyed what must’ve been a much-needed tinkle because it took an admirably long time to complete.
“Geez, dude,” I commented after he finished, “How long you been holding that in? Gotta pinch one off, too?”
He apparently did not, so we perambulated upon our merry way. As we rounded the northwest corner of the lake, I heard a whistle and then a familiar voice call out, “Hey, Mike Hammer!”
I turned and saw that Wayne Jackson and Sharon were sitting at a four top table at the Relax Grill. Sharon waved at us.
Morgan and I stepped up to the entrance and were met by Amanda. Amanda was the daytime hostess at the outdoor restaurant and knew Morgan and me because we frequented the place and had for years.
Amanda was about five foot five with long brown hair pulled into a pony tail. She was sturdily built. Not what you’d call slim, but shapely and she had a pretty smile and a very friendly demeanor. I liked her and not just because we always flirted with each other.
“Oh, well aren’t you handsome today!” Amanda gushed.
“Thanks,” I said with a grin.
She reached down and scratched Morgan between the ears and rubbed his back, “I was talking to Morgan.”
“Aww…” I moaned sadly.
Amanda laughed and scratched my belly, “Fine… you’re handsome too! You guys gonna join Sharon and Wayne?”
I sighed, “I guess… is there a discount for that?”
Amanda chuckled, “Nope. Still regular price.”
I considered it for a moment, “Okay then. I guess we can take one for the team.”
“You’re a dick,” Wayne jibed. Their table was only five feet away.
“That’s no way to talk,” I chided him, “There are upstanding types within earshot.”
“Oh, and we’re not?” Sharon asked, “We’re just lumps of shit, I suppose?”
I took a seat and smiled, “I stand corrected.”
“So what’re you two up to today?” Wayne asked. He was on the cops as well and more often than not worked as Sharon’s partner at OPD. They were both detectives, Sharon having recently made Lieutenant and Wayne having earned his gold shield within the past year.
“Oh, just out for a stroll,” I said, “It’s take your doggy to work day, so I figured the kid and I would enjoy this gorgeous afternoon at the park.”
“Uh-huh,” Sharon teased in that woman doing a man’s voice tone that I suspected might be meant to imitate me, “Maybe use Morgan here to score a chick?”
“Exactly,” I said, rolling my eyes, “What’re you guys up to?”
“Just grabbing a bite,” Wayne said, “We worked an early shift and just got off. Probably head over to Vic’s after and hit the bag.”
Wayne, like Sharon and me, was a member of Vic Matzano’s gym over on Jefferson Avenue. Vic’s was a bit of a throwback, still boasting a lot of free weights, a boxing ring and workout center and martial arts rooms. There were machines, too but no Pilates and herbal wraps. A lot of cops and firefighters and even local bad guys worked out there. It was sort of a neutral zone in that sense.
“How’s it going anyway?” I asked him, “You have any matches scheduled? Seems like we haven’t hung out in weeks.”
Wayne shrugged. He was a trim black man of twenty-six. He was about my height and weight and had aspirations of becoming a heavyweight contender, “yeah, got a bout this weekend. Friday night.”
“Cool,” I said “Let me know where and when. I’ll cheer for you. Hell, I’ll work your corner if you need me.”
Wayne grinned, “When you gonna step into the ring, tough guy?”
“Speaking of work,” Sharon queried, “Whatever had happened with that snooty bitch from yesterday?”
I chuckled, “Oh, it’s quite the situation. In fact, it’s a rather sensitive matter that involves national security.”
Wayne narrowed his eyes, “Seriously?”
“Oh yeah,” I said.
“So you could tell us,” Sharon observed wryly, “But then you’d have to kill us.”
“Right.”
Wayne sighed dramatically, “Well… okay, but it better be worth it.”
I laughed, “I’d like to discuss it with you guys… but not here. The walls have ears, you know what I mean?”
“We’re outside,” Sharon pointed out with a grin.
“Yeah… there aren’t any walls,” Wayne said dryly.
I rolled my eyes, “Maybe reincarnation is true… because I must’ve been a bad, bad dude in a previous life to have to suffer so many wise asses in this one.”
“Aww…” Sharon said, “We’re sorry… we know that being a smarty pants is kind of your thing, honey bunch.”
“Fine,” I said peevishly, sticking out my lower lip, “Then I won’t tell you.”
Wayne laughed.
I grinned, “Seriously, though… I don’t think we should discuss it here. This is actually a potentially grave matter. What’re you guys doing tonight?”
“Sheila’s got some work deal tonight,” Wayne said, “Some kind of event thing for a new client. So I’m pretty much free.”
“And I ain’t got shit to do,” Sharon quipped.
“Wow, really?” I asked, “Taking the night off?”
She narrowed her eyes at me and Wayne snorted.
“Gotta let it rest once or twice a quarter, I guess,” Wayne added with a straight face.
“Oh, you two are a goddamned riot,” Sharon said, “Exactly what are you implying?”