Lawyers, Guns and Money

by Bob Mayer

  “Definitely in range,” Merrick said. “If they aim for the torch or head. Three shots. They could make a mark. Perhaps take either one off.” He paused.

  “You’re sure they’re on the island?” Thao asked.

  “We’ll find out when we go there.”

  “But we are not doing The Magnificent Seven, correct?”

  “More like The Guns of Navarone. Let’s go to my place and plan.”

  GREENWICH VILLAGE, MANHATTAN

  “People have it wrong,” Pope said. “They think the first spot immigrants set foot in America was on Ellis Island, but the trans-Atlantic ships initially docked in Manhattan because the mooring at Ellis Island wasn’t large enough for ocean-going vessels. The immigrants were then transferred to a ferry to be processed on Ellis Island. Most of them, that is. A handful who had the money to pay off the customs agents or the right connections already in the States, got released directly into Manhattan.”

  Kane and Thao sat across from Pope who had maps and documents spread out on the kitchen table. The old man had reached out to his friends, reporters and otherwise, and several messengers had delivered material for him to peruse and share.

  “No one quite knows who has jurisdiction of the island,” Pope said, “since the Feds shut it down. The governor of New Jersey actually commandeered a Coast Guard cutter in 1956 and sailed over there and claimed it for his state.”

  “Fucking New Jersey,” Kane muttered.

  “It’s becoming an issue,” Pope said, ignoring the commentary, “because the National Park Service is going to start renovating part of the island to open as a museum.” He tapped the map. “The north side, where the Main Building is located. That part is known as Island One and is where the small, original island was. Ellis Island was developed in stages. Island One in the 1890s. Then Island Two, with a hospital in 1899. Island Three, with the contagion ward and some other buildings was filled in and built in 1906. Then the space between Two and Three was filled in the 1920s, essentially making them all one island.”

  “Is there anyone on the island?” Thao asked.

  “Not overnight,” Pope said. “The Park Service might go over occasionally during the day. I didn’t have time to get more accurate information on the status of the project but it’s focused on the main building on Island One.”

  “The zodiac was here,” Kane said, indicating the center of the fill between Two and Three, near the water. “Hidden amongst some bushes and covered. I could see the drag marks from the seawall.”

  Kane checked the map legend, then took a piece of paper and ticked off a distance. Moved it to Ellis Island then lightly traced a circle with a pencil. “The World Trade Center is in TOW range from all of Ellis Island. They could be firing at multiple targets.”

  Pope slid an aerial photograph out of a stack. “This is relatively recent. Friend at the Post had it for something he was working on and sent it over with the other material.”

  “These two water towers on Island One,” Thao said, “would allow them to fire in all directions.”

  “But the boat is between Two and Three,” Kane said. “They’d want to keep an eye on it. It’s their only way to escape.”

  “And if anyone goes out there, they go to Island One,” Pope added.

  Thao held up his hands. “I agree. They are hiding in a building on Island Two or Three, most likely the latter. I was just considering possibilities. They could move to One after dark to fire.”

  “They could,” Kane agreed. “But that’s tomorrow night. We have the advantage of hitting them while they’re encamped. But you’re right, Thao, to look at the water towers as launch points. The TOW trails a wire when its fired and if that wire gets close to the water, it short circuits. However, firing from a height and angling up to either the Statue or the Towers, I don’t think that will be a problem.”

  “How tall are these buildings?” Thao asked indicating the Contagious Disease Hospital.

  “At least two stories,” Pope said. “Some are three.”

  “That will work,” Kane said. “Or the roofs.” He stared at the map, doing what they’d always done during mission prep: putting himself in the shoes of the enemy. What would he do if he were them? “My source said there are six of them. One is wounded. They’d keep their perimeter tight. Not cover all of Ellis. Pulling shifts, they would have three at most on guard duty tonight. More likely two. If we’re lucky, one.”

  “Hold on, hold on,” Pope said, trying to follow. “Six? The two of you are taking on six?”

  “At least half of them will be sleeping,” Kane said, seeing the glass half full.

  “Not if they see you coming,” Pope pointed out.

  “We’ll have to make sure they don’t,” Kane said. “We’ve had worse odds.”

  “Not willingly,” Thao pointed out. He didn’t dwell on it. “We must factor in what they took from Boston. They will base their plan around their capabilities and available weapons.”

  “’Boston’?” Pope said. “What happened in Boston?”

  “Nothing for you to worry about,” Kane said. “Let’s back up. Tell us about these buildings along the south shore on Island Three, facing the Statue.”

  Pope shuffled through the papers. “The contagious disease hospital has seventeen buildings with a connecting enclosed breezeway. They break down as follows: eight measles wards, three isolation wards which could be sealed off from the others, a mortuary, a lab, an admin building, a kitchen, a staff house and one, here in the corner that is a power house, sterilizer and autopsy theater.”

  Kane’s took a piece of paper and tore it into small pieces and labeled pieces:

  FIFTY

  TOW

  BOAT

  He placed the last one where he’d seen the boat hidden.

  “This is a version of a sand table,” Thao informed Pope. “A way to depict the objective and visualize—”

  “I get it,” Pope said.

  Kane was focused on the problem. “This last building in the southeast corner. What is it?”

  Pope consulted his notes. “One of the three isolation wards. Patients with serious diseases were placed there. One and a half stories high. Two on the south side of the central corridor, one on the north. Nurses slept in the half story attics. The building on the north side of the central corridor and farthest to the east is the staff building. Two and a half stories and was where the higher-ranking hospital staff lived. Bedrooms on the second floor. Living and dining on the first along with a library.”

  Kane placed the FIFTY at the east end of the covered walkway that connected all the buildings on Island Three. The TOW on top of the southeastern isolation ward building. He glanced at Thao, waiting.

  The Montagnard took his time, looking at the photo and the map. Then he nodded. “The most logical deployment. They can cover the sea approaches with both the heavy machinegun and TOW. The machinegun can also turn west and fire along the main ground avenue of approach. I’d put booby traps in the adjacent buildings and on either flank, north or south for anyone avoiding the central corridor, to channel attackers. The TOW can fire from a window at the Statue. Or even toward the Twin Towers if they move to an east facing window. They can keep their perimeter tight. If they have to retreat, the boat is within easy reach.”

  “Do you see a different deployment?” Kane asked.

  Thao moved the TOW and FIFTY to the Main Hospital Building on the north side of Island Two. “How tall are these buildings?”

  “Three and a half stories,” Pope answered.

  “If they desire to fire at both the Statue and Manhattan, this would be preferable. They could be on the top floor and fire north and south. They could also watch the ferry slip for visitors.”

  “A possibility,” Kane said. “But they’re farther from the boat and in a building facing the ferry slip where anyone visiting the island would come. Which brings up the issue of infiltration. Coming across Upper Bay is out.” He pointed at the terminals jutting out
from the New Jersey shoreline. “What are these?”

  “The old Central Railroad docks,” Pope said. “They’re abandoned. The land to the south of them is just fill that was technically made into a New Jersey state park for the Bicentennial but no work has been done on it. Nothing much there.”

  Thao spoke his objections before Kane could even make his proposal. “There might be security guards in the terminal. The—”

  “No,” Pope said. “There used to be, but it’s all abandoned.”

  “Scout swim infil,” Kane announced.

  “I did not go to this scout swim school you attended,” Thao said.

  “I know,” Kane said. “Don’t worry. I’ll get you over there.”

  “I know you will get me there,” Thao said. “But I will worry nonetheless. What about exfiltration?”

  “Ah, the part headquarters always skimped on,” Kane said. “We take their boat.”

  “How are you going to take their boat?” Pope asked. “You’re going over there to make sure they’re there?” He had to blink at his alliteration.

  “We’re going over there to kill them,” Kane said.

  19

  Tuesday Night,

  9 August 1977

  LIBERTY STATE PARK, NEW YORK HARBOR

  “Nice fucking park, New Jersey,” Kane muttered as he and Thao picked their way across the barren landscape that had once been the terminus for a number of rail lines and was technically designated a ‘park’ by the State of New Jersey. Kane had the High Standard at the ready, while Thao held his crossbow. They both had rucksacks on their backs.

  For a park, it wasn’t much of one. The terrain was composed of landfill, dumped here by the rail lines. It had been designated so the previous year by the Governor of New Jersey in time for the bicentennial and thousands had lined the waterfront to watch the tall ships sail in and the fireworks. Kane doubted many had come here in the slightly over a year since, which was a small blessing as they were able to get to the waterfront without meeting anyone.

  The air was foul with that peculiar odor of northeast New Jersey. A mixture of swamps, industry and pollution. Reaching the shoreline, Kane and Thao looked at Ellis Island. It was pitch black, the same as it had been the night of the boat tour. The Statue of Liberty’s torch shone above and to the right, just shy of a kilometer from Ellis. Looking across the water to the left, the Twin Towers were brightly lit, aircraft warning lights strobing on top. To the immediate left on this shore, the terminals of the rail lines stuck out in the water, waiting for ships that no longer docked.

  They turned in that direction. A fence surrounded the terminals but the rail lines went through, the gates long gone. Entering the southernmost building reminded Kane of the event that had started him down this, going into the Christopher Street Pier and photographing Alfonso Delgado, Sofia’s deceased ex, in a homosexual act. This side of the river, though, saw no such action. The air was musty and still.

  “I will not ask how this Guns of Navarone ends,” Thao said in a low voice as they walked toward the end of the large, empty building. “But what was their mission?”

  “A commando team lands on a German island. They have to silence two big guns.”

  “I see some similarity,” Thao allowed. “Did they swim to the island?”

  “I think they had a boat, but it sank.”

  “So they ended up swimming, anyway.”

  They reached the end. A wide door was open to the water. Ellis Island was three hundred meters away, southeast across dark, uninviting water.

  Both of them dropped their rucksacks. Kane removed a poncho from his and spread it out on the ground.

  Kane removed boots and socks, pants and t-shirt. Stuffed them, along with the .45 and commando knife from the belt, into a waterproof sack containing the High Standard .22 and Swedish K with folded stock. He added a plastic case containing a set of AN/PVS-5 night vision goggles. There were also a set of walkie-talkies he’d picked up from an electronics store on the way to Pope’s from the diner. Kane tied the bag shut and put it in the ruck.

  He looked up at the Statue of Liberty to the southeast. “I took ‘lil Joe there.”

  Thao paused in stripping down and waited.

  Kane frowned, searching his foggy memory. “I think it was just after Ranger School. He was such a small baby.” Kane shook his head. “When I was growing up, the only time my family went to Manhattan was when we had visitors from out of state and we’d show them the sites we never went to and saw on our own.” The frown deepened. “I must have brought Taryn and Joe to my parents’ house when I did that. I can’t clearly remember.” He collected himself and looked at Thao. “I’m gonna be pissed if they hurt the Statue.”

  “Let us make sure that doesn’t happen.” Thao finished getting undressed. He put his clothes, crossbow and the .45 from Kane, in his own waterproof sack. “You do, of course, remember that I cannot swim.” He had the machete in a sheath attached to his back with a strap around his chest and waist.

  “How could I forget?” Kane said. He proceeded to make a poncho ‘raft’ like he’d been taught at Camp Buckner at West Point and again in Ranger School. He put the bags inside their respective rucksacks and placed them in the center of the poncho. Then they covered it with Thao’s poncho. The hoods were already tied off on the inside. They snapped the two ponchos together. Then they rolled them tight and tied off the ends with 550 cord.

  Kane checked his watch. 10:24 PM. “Ready?” he asked Thao.

  Thao didn’t emanate enthusiasm, whether it was because of the water, or the objective, but Kane wasn’t bubbling over with it either. They both knew if their target assessment was wrong and the Swords were on Island One, perhaps in one of the water towers, or even on the west side of Island Two or Three, they could be spotted. The sky was overcast, which wasn’t unusual, as a good portion of it was smog settling in on a warm August night. The moon was a waxing crescent, barely a shape through the overcast sky.

  Thao answered by edging into the water. Kane did the same, recoiling slightly at the chill and the oily sensation. He gently put the poncho raft on the surface and pushed it toward Thao, who grabbed hold of the tail end.

  “Hang on,” Kane advised. He was on his back, only his head above water. He began a slow kick, making sure his feet didn’t hit the poncho raft or break the surface. He swam toward the dark mass of Ellis Island.

  He had to turn his head every ten kicks to make sure they were on course. To keep the unoccupied part of his mind off the possibility of fifty caliber bullets spraying both he and Thao, he thought back to his naïve assumption when he applied to the Military Academy instead of the Naval Academy, which had pissed his ex-Marine father off greatly, that his lack of swimming ability would not be a factor in the Army. The fact he’d been issued a bathing suit on R-Day, his first day at the Academy in 1962, should have been a warning.

  The roar of Manhattan was a distant echo. Faint car horns, sirens, but the sound of the water lapping on shore was louder.

  Slowly they made their way across. Kane glanced over his shoulder to make sure they were on course, taking a swell in the face and swallowing polluted water. He fought to prevent hacking and coughing as he kept finning.

  Less than a week into Beast Barracks, the training schedule had called for wearing the issued bathing suit, under sweats, and reporting to the archaic and labyrinthic gymnasium. To a pool. Where a weaselly old man in the black shorts and the monogrammed golf shirt of the Department of Physical Education, screamed: “If you can’t swim, go through that door!”

  Relieved, Kane had taken door number one.

  He glanced over his shoulder once more, expecting to see the bright and large muzzle flash of the heavy machinegun from somewhere along the shoreline. Darkness ruled.

  Behind door number one had been another pool and another crazed instructor screaming: “Get in the water!”

  And thus, in order to graduate the Rock Squad, Kane had learned to survival swim.

/>   Amazing how the Academy had so wisely prepared him for the future and this mission.

  The dark bulk of Ellis was less than ten meters away and Kane focused. When he reached the rock seawall, he grabbed hold with one hand and pulled the poncho raft, and Thao, up to it. Thao clung to the rocks.

  Thao didn’t need to be told what to do. They’d been on so many patrols together years ago that the blood lessons of combat were ingrained into them. The Montagnard clambered over the sea wall, drawing the machete. Kane carefully climbed, pulling the poncho raft onto the seawall. He watched Thao’s dark shadow disappear into the shadow of the powerhouse, the large building on the northwest side of Island One.

  Three minutes later, Thao was back with an all clear. They hustled across the open space carrying the poncho raft into a gaping doorway and put it down on the floor. Silently they unwrapped the poncho and geared up.

  Kane peeled back the wet Velcro and checked the time: 11:15.

  Since Thao hadn’t said anything, it meant that his clearing of the danger area had encountered no sign of the Swords. Kane slung the Swedish K over this back, the suppressed High Standard in hand. Thao had a .45 pistol in a holster on one side, the crossbow at the ready.

  Kane allowed Thao to take point. The Montagnard wore rubber soled sandals and slid his feet carefully, head scanning, as they made their way outside the door and along the side of the building toward the Connector. When they reached the end of the attached bakery/carpenter shop building, they performed the crossing a danger area tactic Kane had first learned years ago in Ranger School. He provided overwatch with the K as Thao dashed across the open space to the dark bulk of the old Ferry Building on the Connector. Kane waited as Thao scouted the area. There was a brief flash of red light, Thao signaling with his flashlight. Kane hustled across.

  They’d decided on the route during planning, going behind the main part of the Ferry Building, but between it and the western extension of the building. They reached the cross-building connecting the two. Thao found a busted door and went inside, Kane following. There was another door across the way. They were halfway across the Connector.