Engage at Dawn: First Contact

by Edward Hochsmann

  “Oh, right, like we’re on the lookout for beach poachers.” Bell shook his head.

  Frankle smiled. “Hey, he’s Canadian. He doesn’t know any better; maybe he thinks he’ll have to pay us off. Suits me, I’m not interested in a conversation.” He glanced at his partner. “Even if it means I miss some Viagra tips.”

  Bell grinned as he drove in another sensor stake and flipped on the switch. The process continued until all 12 sensors were in place. While the two agents were waiting for enough time to pass, Frankle’s cell phone buzzed with an incoming text message. He put on his reading glasses to read the message, and as he read, his eyebrows raised appreciatively.

  “Well?” Bell said somewhat impatiently after several seconds. Frankle didn’t reply; he just handed him the phone with a smile.

  “Hot Damn!” the younger agent continued in a whisper, handing Frankle back his phone.

  “Yep, something to look forward to.” He glanced at his watch. “OK, that’s long enough, let’s go.” After uploading the sensor data collected, he turned and glanced toward the shack while Bell moved forward on the sensor line. Frankle wondered if he shouldn’t walk over and ask a question or two as a genuine NMFS agent might. It was a passing thought. He turned to follow the other agent as he gathered the sensors and moved to the car.

  Lantern Key, Florida

  1527 EST, 18 January

  Ben had just parked the car, and they were both stepping out on their final survey run when Simmons’ phone gave an incoming IM tone. He read the message and smiled at Ben. “Good news! It seems like they have a strong lead on our evil lady villain.” He paused and glanced up at Ben. “I’m allowed to use such terms for her, right?” Receiving a “Give me a break!” look in return, he continued. “It seems ‘other technical means—you can read that as the NSA—have localized her on Little Pine Key. I imagine one of her flying monkeys forgot to turn off his cell phone. Our third team is on the way to set up surveillance. Frankle and Bell will head over as soon as they wrap up their last beach. When Team 3 gets eyes on, they’ll call the Justice folks in to keep it legit and then disengage once they are relieved.”

  “What about us?” Ben asked, hopefully. The fact was, their activities that day had left him very bored.

  “Sorry young padawan. It’s heads down on data and charts for the likes of us tonight. Someone has to stay on the mission. Besides, as my friend Matt Kemper would say, ‘you couldn’t swing a dead cat down there without hitting a Fed.’ Soon they’d be asking who you are and why you’re there.”

  “Oh, I guess you’re right,” Ben said with obvious disappointment.

  “Buck up, friend! While they’re tangling with Eurothugs, we could make First Contact! ‘And gentlemen in England, now a-bed, shall think themselves accurs’d, they were not here, and hold their manhoods cheap, whiles any speaks, that fought with us upon Saint Crispin’s day!’”

  “Now, that’s from Shakespeare’s Henry V, I know that much,” Ben said with resignation.

  “I should hope so. Once more unto the beach, dear friend, and then we can go for a beer.”

  17

  Family

  U.S. Coast Guard Cutter Kauai, Gulf of Mexico, 21 nautical miles northeast of Key West, Florida

  1956 EST, 18 January

  Hopkins came off the 1600–2000 OOD watch and swung by the mess deck for soda and chips from the community snack storage. She was pleasantly surprised seeing Deffler with a tub of parts she presumed were UAV components. He stood and smiled on seeing her, and she decided to sit with him. Hopkins had grown to like the tall flier over the few days they had worked together. She admired his quiet professionalism and intelligence and enjoyed his sense of humor. And he was damned good looking.

  “Mind if I join you?” she asked, pouring a cup of coffee instead of soda.

  “Please do,” He gestured at the seat across the table.

  “I won’t interfere?”

  “No, no. Routine checks for water intrusion. I take from Pile A,” He selected a small part. “Inspect for any signs of water, plug it in the tester, all green, good to go, and deposit in Pile B.”

  “I thought you said they’re water-sealed.”

  “I did indeed, but water always finds a way, particularly when it’s especially salty and going after airplanes produced by the low bidder we’re deliberately crashing into the water. No worries here, just precautionary maintenance.”

  “Hmm.”

  “Can I ask you a question?” Deffler inquired after a minute of silence and two more completed components.

  “Sure.”

  “Can I help you with something? It seems like you’ve got the burden, as my old grandpa used to say.”

  “Yeah, I do actually. It’s this mission. Is it me, or is the world coming unglued?”

  Deffler replaced the part he had just picked up on the “to do” pile and sat back. “What do you mean?”

  Hopkins took a sip of coffee, then set down the cup. She started small, carefully weighing what she could say in the openness of the mess deck. “What’s your read on Simmons?”

  “He’s a force of nature.” Deffler smiled. “I only know him from a brief meet and then working alongside him here. It’s like working with the eggheads from the R and D Center, but the secret agent shit brings in a whole ‘nother dimension. He seems to know his stuff, but he’s deep and dark. What of it?”

  “Do you trust him? I mean, would you trust him with your life?”

  “You mean, would I be worried he’d have my back if the shit hit the fan? Honestly, I’d be OK with him. I talked with one of his tech buddies while we were waiting around at Homestead, and he implied the guy is a James Bond-type legend. He’s really put a twist on the other side’s ops. And he’s all about putting as wicked bad a twist on them as humanly possible. He doesn’t worry about getting promoted or anything like that.”

  Hopkins relaxed a little. “So, you feel safe with him?”

  “Oh, hell no, I didn’t say that.” He shook his head. “He is the go-to guy when the shit hits the fan. The problem is, if he can’t find a handy shit-fan collision, he’ll do his best to create one.” When Hopkins’s eyes widened, he quickly added, “Whoa, what’s with this, he’s gone, right?”

  “Yes, but he’s got the XO with him.”

  “Well, it seems to me the XO’s got a good head on his shoulders. He’ll be OK. I don’t know what’s going on here, but I don’t think the bad guys are interested in Doc’s science project. They’re trying to get their boat back. Hey, I can see the CO and XO are pretty good guys, but they’re still officers. What’s worth getting so worked up about?”

  Hopkins’s eyes narrowed, and she sat back. “Fritz, you wouldn’t be asking that question if you’d been here a year ago when they came in to replace the old command.”

  Deffler could tell from the body language and tone he had stepped in it, but he pushed forward. “I’ve heard a few people mention problems with the last CO, but nothing specific. Feel like telling me about it?”

  Hopkins felt the anger that had cropped up beginning to subside. How could he know? Looking at us today, you could not believe it. “Okay, you found a sore spot, sorry about that. No need to unload this on you.” Deffler reached across the table and touched her hand. Oddly enough, she didn’t flinch or pull away.

  “No shit. I’d like to hear the story if you don’t mind telling me.”

  “There’s a short but very exciting story behind it. You ever had a bad CO, I mean, a really bad one?”

  “I’ve had some I didn’t care for, but I wouldn’t consider them as ‘bad.’ Seen a few bad officers in my time, but they usually get sorted out or shit-canned by the end of their first tour. I can’t imagine one of them making it to Commander, much less CO of an air station.”

  Hopkins nodded. “Yeah, I couldn’t imagine it either. I’ve seen good and bad officers, same as you, but the COs are a cut above. When I got here 18 months ago, the CO had been for here six. Fritz, I’ve ne
ver seen a boat as messed up as this one. People were just plain scared. The CO had two settings—uptight and detonate. If he was around, you would get screamed at or talked down to.”

  “What about the XO or the chief? I can’t figure Drake putting up with that.”

  “Chief Drake wasn’t here yet. The chief that was here was ‘retired on active duty’; he just did what he needed to avoid getting chewed up. The XO? He was broken by then. He was OK before, not a hard-charger, but did the job. He was as scared as the rest of us, trying to get by until he completed his tour. The CO was even harder on him.”

  Deffler rolled his eyes. “I don’t get guys like that. I heard they relieved him, what did him in?”

  Hopkins closed her eyes briefly as she remembered the day. “We were working that last big Alien Migrant Interdiction Operation from Cuba. Ever done an AMIO patrol?” Deffler shook his head, and she continued. “They’re heartbreakers at the best of times, but this one was really bad. We were headed to Bahia de Cabañas with a couple of dozen migrants for repatriation when something stirred them up. The ICE guy and translator were handling it, but the CO decided to rip them a new one in front of the prisoners. That kicked off a no-shit riot. When we finally got things under control, we had to MEDEVAC the XO and BM1, and two of the Cubans were dead.”

  Deffler gaped in astonishment. “My God, ‘we got things under control’? What did you do?”

  “Let’s just say some creative, hard rudder maneuvers on my part combined with a fire hose team led by Chief Drake did the trick and leave it there. After that, we couldn’t continue the mission, so the Command and Control cutter took off the migrants, and we headed back to Miami. The Sector Commander and the Coast Guard Investigative Service were waiting at the dock for us, and they took the CO off as soon as we moored. They brought in a squad of agents who put everyone on board through a hard-core interrogation. At least the CO was gone. So was the XO. I’m sorry he got hurt, but his leaving was for the best.

  “So, there we were, low as you get, wondering what’s next. I was in the deepest funk I can ever remember, but Chief held us together. The next day, Lieutenant Powell showed up, took command, and started turning things around. A couple of weeks later, Mr. Wyporek arrived and dropped right in like an old hand. I’ve never seen anything like it. I don’t know how they did it, but they got rid of the loafers and whiners. They brought in John, Shelley, and Lope, and we’re back in the game and far better than before, even considering the CO.”

  “That’s quite a story.” Deffler smiled. “I see why you like them. You have got an impressive team here, and if they made it happen, they deserve a lot of credit. But I’m still not getting why you’re so wound up about Wyporek. Surely, he can handle a simple shore detail.”

  “Look, you said yourself that Simmons is a loose cannon. He says he has backup, but I wouldn’t trust him as far as I can throw him. I see him running straight into a buzzsaw without a care in the world, and guess what? I couldn’t give a damn. My problem is that my XO, who I happen to think is one of the best men I’ve ever known, has a big blind spot when he thinks duty calls. Did you know Simmons almost dragged him into a shootout in Key West?”

  “What?”

  “Yep, the first hint the XO had that trouble was brewing was when Simmons asked him out-of-the-blue if he could do stunt driving. Next thing he knows, they’re speeding through Key West with a carload of armed psychos on their tail. Simmons did have backup. His guys staged a car wreck—no-shit, a car wreck, I’m not making this up—to take out the bad guys, but our guy was a sitting duck the whole time. If he’d been chewed up, I’m sure Simmons would have just said ‘C’est le Guerre’ and moved on. And yet, when that creep says ‘I need a PB expert,’ off he goes, with the CO’s blessing. Dammit!” She paused when she saw the concerned look on Deffler’s face. “Sorry, I’m a little loony when it comes to stuff like this.”

  “Don’t worry about it. I’m glad to take the heat for you. I would be a little careful about going on full afterburner in front of Chief or one of the O’s, though.” Deffler tilted his head.

  “Too late.” Hopkins shook her head sadly. “I sort of lit them up during the brief. Respectfully, of course.”

  “Of course.” Deffler smiled, relieved the tension in the conversation was subsiding. “I take it from the fact you’re here and not locked the brig means the Old Man has a soft spot for you.”

  “No. Well, maybe a little, but not like you think. He knows this is Déjà vu for me.”

  “How so?”

  “Um, you know I lost my husband, right?”

  “Yes, I heard that. I’m very sorry.”

  “Thanks. the XO reminds me of him is all.”

  “Really?” Deffler asked with a sly smile, and his left eyebrow raised.

  Hopkins chuckled. “Not like that, you idiot!” Her smile disappeared when she continued. “He charged off on a SAR case he shouldn’t have taken and didn’t come back.”

  “He was in the Guard?”

  “Yeah, a BM2 coxswain. We were stationed together in Oregon. My younger son Jamie was just a year old. I was thinking hard about getting out. We were trying to figure out how to swing it financially when it happened. The surf was up, too high, but he went anyway. It took out him and his crew.”

  “Geez, I’m sorry. It must have been hard.”

  “It was hell. But the station really helped. We worked around it until my mom came down, and she, the boys and I have been together since. I’m still mad at him for taking that mission.” She brushed away a tear. “And I miss him every day.”

  “I wish there’s something I could say, but I know there isn’t.” He gave her hand a brief, soft squeeze.

  “Thanks. Enough wailing by me. What’s your story? I hope I’m not crying on a married man’s shoulder here.” She had noticed he didn’t wear a ring, but operational people seldom did in the field because of the risk of injury.

  “Nope. Tried it, but it didn’t work out.”

  “Oh, now I’m sorry. Her fault or yours?”

  “I think it’s shared between us and the detailer,” Deffler replied, referring to the chief petty officer in charge of enlisted assignments at the Coast Guard Personnel Command. “My first tour was at Barbers Point, and I fell for and married a local Hawaiian gal. Any place after Hawaii would have been a step-down, but they sent us to Elizabeth City.”

  “Ouch,” Hopkins imagined the culture shock of a move from Oahu’s western shore to rural North Carolina.

  “Yeah, we had two little girls by then, and she was missing her family, but at least it wasn’t too cold in the winter. The next tour did us in, though. I asked for Hawaii, St. Petersburg, or Sacramento, and I got, wait for it, Kodiak.”

  “You’re kidding!”

  “Nope. In the detailer’s mind, I was paying back for that tour in paradise. The CO and XO tried to help, but that just made the detailer dig in harder. I get it; everybody’s got a sad story, the system would blow up if they got down in the weeds all the time, yadda, yadda. So we went. She did her best, but after a year, she just couldn’t take it anymore, and neither could I. So, we broke up, and she moved back home with the girls, and I stayed on.”

  “Wow, it’s hard enough to be away from my boys for patrols, I can’t even think about living apart from them.”

  “Could be worse. I’m still best friends with the ex, and she makes sure I get Skype time with the girls every day I’m not deployed. Plus, every visit I have with them is a treasure. Would you like to see them?”

  “Heck, ya,” Hopkins replied with a smile.

  As she looked through his smartphone pictures of the two young girls, clearly Hawaiian, but with some of the angular features of Deffler’s face and large blue eyes, Hopkins gushed, “My God, they’re beautiful! Oh, I’m so sorry you’re apart, Fritz.”

  “Yeah, hopefully, I can build enough brownie points and get back there. If I work it out right, I can get there on my twilight tour and see them through high school
.”

  “Sometimes, hope is the only strategy you have.” Hopkins nodded.

  “Don’t I know it. So, what’s your hopeful strategy?”

  Hopkins looked up. “I’m above the cut for chief. I’ll have to rotate off the boat to pin it on. My hope is to get a nice quiet sector job in someplace that’s not crazy expensive to live. I love my mom, and she’s my hero for taking care of the boys when I’m out, but I need a house with some space if you know what I mean.”

  “Yeah, I get it. Sounds like you’re not so happy about moving on.”

  “Believe it or not, I considered turning it down. I really like the crew, and the captain has practically made me an Operations Officer. Wouldn’t happen anywhere else, even as a chief.” She looked down and shook her head. “But we need the money, and the captain said staying’s not an option.”

  “I thought he liked you.”

  “He does. A lot. That’s why he said no way.”

  Deffler nodded. “Powell is something special. He knows losing you will hurt, no matter who they get in behind you.”

  “Thanks.” She glanced awkwardly at her watch. “It’s been real, but I need to do some XO stuff and hit the rack. Anything I can do to help?”

  “You already have.” He smiled, then looked down. “Nah, just doing a little extra to pass the time. I’ll be checking out soon.”

  “OK, I’ll see you in the morning.” She gave his hand a quick squeeze back as she got up.

  As he watched her walk out of the mess deck, Deffler thought, yep, good company.

  18

  Preliminaries

  4601 Bryant Ave, Little Pine Key, Florida

  2018 EST, 18 January

  Frankle and Bell approached the surveillance position occupied by the two agents from Team Three, Gerard and Kelly. The last of the twilight faded an hour ago. The first quarter moon would soon follow. To avoid revealing their presence, the Team 2 men had parked their vehicle about a quarter-mile away. They walked carefully through the brush using low-light field goggles, the receding moon and stars providing plenty of illumination for the latest night vision devices. Both teams were equipped with Blue Force Trackers feeding position information for “friendlies” into a heads-up display integrated into their goggle lenses. These made elaborate verbal challenges and countersigns unnecessary. The incoming agents were silent until Frankle kneeled beside the seated Gerard.