Blue Ridge Breeze

by Ed Robinson

  Cody Banner had killed Pop for his pot plants. Brody and I chopped them down solely to prevent him from profiting off murder. Pop’s sister had been his middleman, taking a small cut for her services. We gave the weed to her. She didn’t trust us at first, but the idea that she could keep the entire take was enough to persuade her. In the process, we’d incriminated ourselves. We’d come within one dead groundhog of being framed by the Chief.

  I still had no idea what to do next. Would the Chief give up? Would he bust out our taillights when we went to town and write us a ticket? Would he vandalize our car or home? How far would he go? He might decide to burn us out in the middle of the night. The thing was, no one cared about those pot plants until after the mess with Tom Shook. Multiple agencies knew they existed, but couldn’t be bothered with destroying them. The Chief couldn’t possibly know what Shook had told me, but he didn’t want me telling anyone what I knew. I knew too much, but I hadn’t played that hand yet, mainly because I hadn’t developed any coherent strategy to deal with the matter.

  It was another sign of aging. I’d always been quick to assess a situation and take action immediately. My wits had saved my ass many times. I’d been younger, stronger and faster, but it had always been my brains that kept me alive. The peak combination of fitness and wherewithal had long past. My mind was getting slower along with the rest of me. I didn’t like that one bit. Down in Florida, I could count on my experience and wisdom to get me by, but the mountains were all new to me. I was learning quickly, but I’d gotten lost just the day before. I hadn’t fathomed that the Chief would act with such treachery. I’d been a step behind. That couldn’t continue.

  I needed to find a way to go on the offensive. I couldn’t let the Chief dictate the terms. He’d find a way to win if the ball was always in his hands. I had to put the pressure on him, make him sweat, cause him to make a mistake. For the first time in forever, I had the law on my side. I had to take advantage of that, use the law to put a stop to the Chief’s harassment. I didn’t know how to do that exactly. I needed some advice. I decided to call my old friend Captain Fred. He’d been the one to give us the SAT phone. He’d constantly insisted that if we ever needed anything, to call him. That time had come.

  Captain Fred was a captain of industry and had deep connections at all levels of government. His friends were Fortune 500 members, senators, and the occasional mobster. I’d met him in the Exumas on my first trip through the Bahamas. He’d taken me in and helped me out, in spite of the difference in our social class. Over the years, I’d helped him. I was always well compensated for my efforts, but some of the missions Fred gave me turned dangerous. I gave up my drug running life and traded it for death-defying stunts on behalf of Captain Fred. It had made me wealthy enough to retire to a log cabin in the Blue Ridge Mountains. For that I was grateful, but it was time to ask him for help.

  During one of the last jobs I’d done for him, I’d gotten the shit kicked out of me by a monster of a man down in the Virgin Islands. Looking back, I can see that was the start of my decline. I’d been busy and distracted. I put myself in a situation of weakness. I hadn’t been aware enough of my surroundings. If not for Brody, who shot the man dead, he would have killed me. It took me a long time to recover, and in some ways, I’m still not the same. I was fit enough. The mountains had required that of me. I was still pretty sharp and had even gained a new level of perception. My senses were more finely tuned than ever, but I couldn’t deny that I was slower, less strong, and less decisive than my previous self.

  I was starting to think that those factors could prove deadly in my new surroundings. I needed to step up my game if I was going to handle the Chief successfully. I knew no one that had been more successful than Captain Fred. I made the call.

  “I’m not sure I believe my ears,” Fred said. “The prodigal son has blessed me with his voice.”

  “How are you, Fred?” I asked. “What are you up to these days?”

  “Watching my pretty young wife spend my money, son,” he said. “That’s why I earned it in the first place. Have you managed to hang on to Brody?”

  “I have,” I said. “Though lately, I wonder why she hangs around.”

  “Trouble in the mountains?”

  “Not between us,” I said. “But I’ve got an issue I haven’t been able to resolve.”

  “What do you need?” he asked. “Just name it.”

  “For starters, I need some advice,” I said. “I feel like a foreigner here. Local politics isn’t my game, but I’ve run afoul of the powers that be.”

  “Put the boy in a log cabin in the mountains, and still he finds trouble,” he said. “I thought you were trying to get away from the chaos, son.”

  “It came to me,” I said. “I swear I was just minding my own business.”

  “That’s never enough with you,” he said. “But that’s what makes you who you are. What can I do?”

  I told him the full story. He let me talk until I was finished. I could picture him nodding his head as he chewed on an unlit Cuban. He probably had a glass of Mexican Coca-Cola on the table in front of him. He’d be wearing dress pants and a long-sleeved shirt with cufflinks, but no shoes.

  “You need to get away from there for a bit,” he said. “Let things cool off. Put some distance between you and what’s bothering you.”

  “Like a vacation?”

  “Exactly, and I’ve got just the ticket,” he said. “I’m headed to Saint Petersburg to do some fishing. Meet me there and bring Brody.”

  “Fishing?” I asked. “I didn’t know you were a fisherman.”

  “I’m not,” he said. “But I’ve found that offshore fishing vessels are excellent places to handle delicate matters. No surveillance, no bugs, a nice day on the water. The fish are secondary.”

  “I suppose we could drive down for a few days,” I said. “I seem to be a step behind my adversary up here. I need to clear my head before I have to deal with him again.”

  “Leave right away,” he said. “Call me when you arrive. I’ll be along shortly after that. We’ll work this problem through.”

  “Thanks, Fred,” I said. “Sorry to ask you for help.”

  “Nonsense my boy,” he said. “After all you’ve done for me, it’s the least I can do.”

  I hung up and summoned Brody.

  “Pack your bags for Florida,” I said. “We’re going fishing.”

  “You never cease to amaze me,” she said. “Poof, we’re going back to Florida.”

  “Just for a few days,” I said. “I’m going to talk to Fred about this whole mess. See what we can come up with.”

  “You think he has any pull in Western North Carolina?”

  “He may know someone who does,” I said. “Or he may have a strategy for dealing with local authorities in a strange land. He did build an airport in Bumfuck, Florida.”

  “Good point,” she said. “It was wise to call him. I’m surprised though.”

  “I’m at a loss,” I said. “I’m sorry, but I just don’t know where else to turn.”

  “It’ll work out,” she said. “Shit always works out.”

  Eight

  Fortunately, we’d hung on to a selection of shorts and flip flops from our Florida days. The ski resorts were opening up in western North Carolina, but it was still almost ninety degrees in Florida. I knew it would feel weird to be back down there. We’d lost our tans completely after months of long pants and long sleeves. We were about to be those white people from up north. I packed a bag while Brody loaded a cooler. We could drive straight through if we didn’t stop to eat. We’d recently traded our car in for a four-wheel drive vehicle. It was gassed up, and the oil had been changed recently.

  I thought about what might happen to our cabin while we were gone. We could take our handguns with us in the car, though we had no concealed carry permits. My problem was the cash. We had plenty of it stashed in various hideaways. I wasn’t worried about it getting stolen. I was worried about it bur
ning up. We also had cash in the bank, but no one wants to lose a few hundred grand because he didn’t take proper precautions.

  I spent some time making sure the stacks of bills were waterproof before burying them in the woods. We decided to take some warmer clothing with us, in case everything was gone when we got back. We ended up with a full carload of stuff because we kept thinking of more and more valuables that we wanted to save. It may have been paranoia, but we had good cause.

  We left before dawn the next morning. That got us to Charlotte during the morning rush hour, which sucked.

  “So many cars,” said Brody. “How do people do this every day?”

  “I couldn’t tell you,” I said. “Back in the day when I had a real job, my commute was an easy one with no traffic.”

  “It’s hard for me to picture you going to a job every day,” she said. “It’s just so not you.”

  “I was a different person back then,” I said. “I had a wife and a mortgage. It was my duty to show up and keep my nose to the grindstone. I never knew any other way.”

  “But suddenly you just chucked it all and ran away?”

  “Something snapped inside me when Laura died,” I said. “I’d lost the reason to show up, not just to the job but in life.”

  “That must have been difficult,” she said. “Do you ever look back on that time with regret? Would you react differently given a chance to go back in time?”

  “I never look back,” I said. “You can’t go back in time. Besides, if things had happened differently, I’d have never met you. Sure, I’ve been through some messed up stuff, but meeting you makes it all worthwhile.”

  “It’s my fault,” she said. “I hunted you down.”

  “I let you catch me,” I said. “I could have escaped at any time.”

  “I believe that,” she said. “But you chose to stay.”

  “It was that sparkle in your eyes,” I said. “I had to know the woman behind those eyes.”

  “No man has ever even mentioned any sparkle in my eyes,” she said. “But you’re not just any man.”

  “I like to think that we’re both better because we’re together,” I said. “Two parts making a whole.”

  “I like the way you think,” she said. “And I agree.”

  We made it to Saint Petersburg in twelve hours, stopping only to pee and get gas. We got a nice room as close to the waterfront as we could. We wouldn’t know which marina we were going to until we talked to Captain Fred. I didn’t call him right away. It was nice to be away from the stress caused by the Banner Elk Police Chief. We went out for a nice dinner, took a nice hotel room shower, and made love on the king-sized bed before falling asleep.

  I called Fred in the morning.

  “Captain John O’Connor,” he said. “Thirty-one Jupiter out of John’s Pass. The boat’s called O’ Yahh.”

  “What time?” I asked.

  “Seven tomorrow morning,” he said. “I’m bringing along another guest. Someone you’ll want to meet.”

  “Someone who can help?”

  “We’ll see,” he said. “He’s a fixer. Works out of D.C. but knows how to get things done. Talk it through with him. Let him come up with a plan. His bill is on me.”

  “Shit, Fred,” I said. “You don’t have to do that. I’ve still got money.”

  “Likely thanks to the influence of your lovely partner,” he said. “You keep your money. I’ve got this. No guarantees mind you.”

  “Any help is much appreciated,” I said. “I’ll talk to him.”

  “Don’t be late and make sure Brody is with you,” he said. “She’s part of our cover.”

  “We’ll be there,” I said.

  Captain John O’Connor was a big guy, roughly my age. He had the typical skin and wrinkles of a Florida fishing guide. He wasn’t overweight, but his skin hung a little loose, like someone who’d recently lost a lot of weight. He had a slight New York accent, which didn’t fit in with being a charter captain in Florida. I knew it wouldn’t hinder his business. There were far more Yankees in Florida than native Floridians.

  After engaging in some small talk, I could tell he was a smart guy and not a life-long fishing guide.

  “You come from the corporate world?” I asked.

  “How can you tell?” he answered. “I’ve been down here eight years now fishing my ass off.”

  “I came from corporate myself,” I said. “But that was about a hundred years ago.”

  “I bet you’re as glad to be away from it as I am,” he said. “I was VP of sales at a pharmaceutical company for a lifetime. Enjoying my retirement down here.”

  “Can you fish?” I asked. “No offense intended. Captain Fred isn’t really interested in fishing.”

  “He told me as much,” he said. “I still get paid the same, so it’s all good.”

  “I’m an inshore wizard with a fishing rod,” I told him. “For years my dinner depended on being able to catch a keeper. Offshore isn’t my thing, though.”

  “I’ve been fishing for fifty years,” he said. “Started where I grew up, in New York City, but I’ve caught fish all over this half of the world. Big fish, not bait.”

  “If we can expedite our business today, I wouldn’t mind hooking up with something sizeable,” I said. “I’ve been catching trout smaller than your bait.”

  “You’re not using a fly rod are you?”

  “Afraid so,” I said.

  “That’s a terminal case,” he said. “I don’t think I will ever get there.”

  “I didn’t either,” I admitted. “Extremely inefficient way to fish, but it has its pluses.”

  “Like being happy with a ten-inch brook trout?” he said, laughing.

  “Pretty much,” I said. “But there’s an art to it, if you get serious about it.”

  “A River Runs Through It,” he said. “Good movie.”

  “I’m the no good bastard that can catch fish when nobody else can,” I said. “Like Brad Pitt.”

  “I’ll put you on them today,” he said. “If you can take care of business in time.”

  “I’ll talk while fishing if I have to,” I said. “I didn’t drive twelve hours not to get a rod bent.”

  “Good deal,” he said. “Here comes the rest of your party.”

  Fred was walking down the dock with a tall man who was too well dressed for a fishing trip. He wore a crisp Columbia shirt that still had the creases in it. His hat had never been worn before that day. His deck shoes were hundred-dollar Sperry’s that had never been on a deck. His nails were manicured for crying out loud.

  “Breeze, this is Willis Thompson,” said Fred.

  “What you talkin’ ‘bout, Willis?” I said. “Like you’ve never heard that one before.”

  “Fred told me that you had an unorthodox manner,” he said. “Nice to meet you.”

  “Didn’t mean anything by it,” I said. “Just trying to lighten the mood a little.”

  “I’m not a very casual person, Mr. Breeze,” he said. “I’m here because Mr. Ford is paying me to be here. I will tolerate your mannerisms if you tolerate mine. I’m not a fisherman. I don’t like exposing my skin to the sun. I can, however, work magic on your behalf. If there is any tiny window of opportunity to turn things in your favor, I will find and exploit it to the utmost.”

  “I like the sound of that, you stiff-necked bastard,” I said. “Just know that I’m not as bumpkin as you suspect.”

  “Mr. Ford has alluded to that,” he said. “I’m supposed to be aware of your razor-sharp wit.”

  “Well, we’re on the same team here, thanks to Captain Fred,” I said. “Let’s make the best of it.”

  “You should expect nothing less,” he said.

  “Who’s ready to go fishing?” asked Fred.

  “I thought you’d never ask,” said O’Connor. “Let’s make haste for the fishing grounds.”

  O’Connor fired up his outboards, and I moved to help untie the lines. I felt at home on a boat, any boat. I�
�d spent so much time on them; it was all second nature. Our captain recognized that and let me do my thing. He was no dummy. He instantly realized that I was the only one aboard who might catch a fish that day. We gave each other a nod and shoved off.

  Fred turned his attention to Brody. He told her how beautiful she was as he kissed her hand. Over the top complimenting of pretty women was part of his repertoire, but he was always a gentleman. Thompson sat stiffly in the back, not enjoying himself at all. I figured he’d have more fun if he let me pull the stick out of his ass. All business talk had been put on hold until we got far away from shore.

  I stood beside O’Connor and talked fishing. He was more than happy to tell me some tales.

  “Biggest fish I ever caught was a seven-fifty Blue Marlin,” he said. “That was about a hundred miles off of Cape Cod.”

  “Impressive,” I said. “I’ve never caught a marlin.”

  “Caught a striped marlin in Cabo,” he said. “My first white was down in Cancun.”

  What’s the one fishing accomplishment you’re the most proud of?” I asked, killing time.

  “I took a twenty-nine-foot center console to Cuba for the weeklong Ernest Hemingway Tournament,” he said. “Caught two blues and finished twenty-ninth out of ninety-six boats. Ours was the smallest boat in the fleet.”

  “I’m not fond of Cuba,” I said. “A storm chased me in there once, and I was treated poorly by the Cuban Army. I’ve avoided it like the plague ever since.”

  “Done some traveling have you?” he asked.

  “I took my old trawler all over the Caribbean,” I told him. “Parts of South America too.”

  “I’ve always dreamed of a life like that,” he said. “But the wife would never go for it.”

  “It’s not for everyone,” I said. “Brody tolerated it well, but I gave it up to give her more comfort.”

  “It’s always about the girl,” he said. “Not that’s there’s anything wrong with that.”

  The boat was fast, and we arrived at the first reef of the day in less than an hour. Captain O’Connor set us all up with medium duty rigs to drop down on some snapper. No one was interested. We had things to discuss.