“Damn. Of all the luck, it has to be bad luck. How long’s the conference, I mean, how many days does the damn thing last?”
“Only two full days, two nights. I’m booked at the Newporter Inn.”
He wanted to yell. “Call the Newporter to see if reservations are for two people under Doctor Peyton’s name. Would you do that? If he’s booked in with you, I’ll say goodbye as we leave the boat in Long Beach.” He wrapped his arms around her. “I hate to say this, Sammy girl. The stars controlling our destiny may not be in proper alignment for two ordinary people standing here in the moonlight. The random order of things has turned out to be our enemy. I know we would be so perfect for one another, under better circumstances.”
Dick waved his hand at the traffic. “This drive back from Newport to Long Beach must cause ordinary working stiffs to pull their hair out. Maybe that’s why Doctor Peyton didn’t make the conference.” He glanced over at Sam. “At least we can use the diamond lane.”
“I told you. He had to be in court. Something to do with his ex-wife and the children. All kidding aside, Dick, these last few days have been wonderful. We agreed, didn’t we, to take some time, and let things work themselves out with Steven. He’s hurting right now.”
Dick became distracted. They’d exited I-405 onto a service road near Long Beach only minutes before two vehicles passed at high speed. He braked hard. A heavy four-wheel drive pickup swerved into the rear of the lighter sedan, while entering a curve. The lighter car spun out of control, rolled over several times, and slid upside down into heavy shrubbery. He punched on the emergency lights and pulled onto the shoulder. “We have to offer aid to the occupants of that car.”
He yelled back as she lowered her window. “Stay there in the car and call 911. Wait for my signal before you join me. There may be an explosion. You’ll be needed.”
Dick jumped a narrow ditch and ran through ankle high ice plant to the smoking automobile. The driver’s door was wedged shut; the glass shattered. He could see the lone driver hanging upside down in the seat harness, his head resting against the sunroof, neck bent slightly. The air bag had inflated, then rapidly deflated, with shards of glass from the windshield protruding in several places. He ran to the other side and tore open the warped door. He picked up the strong smell of gasoline, quickly released the man’s seat belt and forced his legs free from the collapsed steering column.
He dragged the heavy man through thick ice plant to where Samantha waited with her first aid kit. “We have to get him across that drainage ditch before the gasoline ignites into a fireball.”
She stepped across the narrow crevice. “I have 911 on the phone. How many occupants, and what can you tell them about the man’s condition? We need more light, to examine him.”
“Grab him under his left arm and let’s get across this ditch and up to the grassy area before that thing blows. He’s unconscious but breathing.”
He gently moved the man’s head. “His neck seems to be uninjured. He may have had the breath knocked out of him when the steering column collapsed in on him. Wait, there’s blood on his head. He slammed his head against the roof of the car.” She jumped when the gas tank exploded. “We have more light now. His pulse is fast and steady. His neck isn’t broken, could be sprained. The head wound’s only superficial. This guy’s a very lucky man. He’s regaining consciousness. Clean some more of that blood off his face. I think we may have saved the life of DEA Agent Hunt.”
“I agree,” she said. He’s even dressed like before.”
The paramedic returned to where Samantha and Dick were in deep conversation with a highway patrol officer. “You folks were right. The victim is Agent Hunt. He wants to talk with you before we move him to the hospital for further examination.”
“You two are night owls. What’s your story this time?” Hunt said.
Dick said, “I’m teaching Samantha to run with the wolves. She’s had a sheltered life.”
“Well, whatever you’re doing, I’m grateful for your assistance. The paramedics tell me you just saved my life. Thank you.”
“We just left a late happy hour in Newport where Samantha attended a medical conference,” Dick said. “We saw that big jacked up four-wheel vehicle run you off the road. You must have known he was chasing you.”
“Should have been better aware of my surroundings. Too many things on my mind. That bastard could have been behind me for several miles. Now, they know we’re coming; I’m going to be more careful.” Hunt asked the paramedic to hold off a few minutes longer. “We have several agents working undercover in this beach area. After our meeting on the beach in Avalon, you know pretty much what we’re doing here. I’m going to leave my card with you, and would appreciate a call about any activity related to drug transactions or homicides you may consider unusual. We have reason to believe the source of the problem is close by. Sooner or later, you’ll start picking up anomalies that make you suspicious. That’s the kind of help we need from you. Especially there on the island.”
He winced and put his hand on his rib cage. “I’m sharing information with you because I need your help. To win this battle, we have to have help from the public, people like you who get around where folks gather in public places.”
The paramedic interrupted. “Agent Hunt! You’ve just been in a violent accident. We need to get you into the hospital, now. You may have serious internal injuries.”
“Give me a few more minutes with these folks, please, it’s important.”
He turned back to Samantha. “As a nurse, you may have noticed. Overdose deaths have increased over five thousand or more each year since 2014. Over sixty-eight thousand overdose deaths were reported just last year. It’s a national disgrace, and California leads the way.” The paramedic checked his vitals again and stepped back. “Hear me out. I have a valid reason for talking to Samantha. We can cover that later. Experts have traced the epidemic’s origin to 1995 and the marketing of the prescription painkiller, oxycontin. It was marketed as being safer, but ended up being just the opposite. Addicts started turning to cheaper drugs now, heroin and fentanyl. Fentanyl is currently involved in over forty-six percent of overdose deaths. It’s cheap, coming out of China, and being mixed with heroin to provide a more affordable high with the same sensations. A small amount can be fatal, even absorbed through the skin, a cheap replacement for more expensive drugs like oxycontin and cocaine. If that doesn’t convince you to help out, nothing will.”
Dick said. “I’m a little puzzled. How did we get involved in all this mess?”
Hunt grimaced, then continued. “Samantha’s a nurse on the island. I need her help. There’s a large, well organized group, right in this area, providing drugs and prescriptions for drugs to addicts. We intend to stop some of the overdose deaths by cutting the head off the snake. We think he might be on Catalina Island.” He appeared to fight pain but continued to talk. “Our newly imbedded asset is currently working his way into a local hotspot for drug activity there as we speak.” He waved at Samantha. “I have a special reason to continue this conversation with you. There’s much more to talk about, but it’ll have to wait. Thank you both, again, for dragging me out of that inferno. I have your contact number and will be in touch.”
The highway patrolman motioned them onto the freeway. Dick said, “I have a feeling we’re going to hear more from DEA Agent Hunt. I don’t understand why the devil we’re involved in this mess.” Hunt has had a small concussion. Maybe he won’t involve us when he gets over the accident.
Chapter 14
Hunt had been caught half-dressed at four a.m., exiting through the emergency room entrance in stocking feet. He suspected the nurse had hidden his shoes. Pressing work demanded his attention. He’d dressed and tried leaving the hospital without authorization after he’d been isolated for four days of pain and aggravation. Let them find someone younger to poke and probe.
He’d suffered much worse after a gunshot wound, a few years earlier, and refused to take
time away from his job until ordered to stand down. He’d planned on driving himself to work with a brace on his neck and tape on his ribs.
He hadn’t expected doctors to look into his overall physical condition while recuperating from an automobile accident. The much-needed physical had been avoided for years. He suspected high cholesterol and hypertension. This time, doctors told him he had a mild concussion, sprained neck, and severely bruised ribs. Hell, he’d known that going in, and demanded to be released with mild pain medication. His intimidation tactic hadn’t worked. The hospital staff rushed him through an MRI, MRA, ultrasound, and echocardiogram before his head cleared. Putting him on a damn diet and demanding he lose ten pounds had been the last straw. He was getting the hell out of there.
Margie stared at Hunt. “You don’t look too good. Weren’t they supposed to keep you another day?”
Hunt’s foul look only got worse. “Yeah, they demanded I leave immediately, after breakfast. Thank God. I haven’t even had a decent cup of coffee since landing in that damn house of torture.”
She couldn’t help but laugh. “I heard they tried to put a fentanyl patch on you, boss. Surely, they know how bad that shit is. Perhaps we should show them some of the victims we find on the streets.”
“What about that damn truck, Margie.? It should stand out like a naked fat man at a bachelorette party.”
She whipped her head around. “So far, the word on the street is quiet, maybe too quiet. The sheriff’s people say that vehicle, or one fitting that description, was seen several times with that junkie, called High Pockets, and another man, on the mainland making contact with street hookers a few weeks back. We need a stronger connection, something more current to work with.”
He muttered, “They have a million cameras on the interstate’s now days. See if that truck shows up anywhere in our tri-state area.”
“One more thing boss. Long Beach deputies connected someone fitting that description to a man named Hans Hempel. Hans has been seen at the Happy Huntsman on the island, as well as Redondo Beach, before the incident. That’s one of the places we’ve asked the sheriff to keep tabs on. Our guys have not seen either Hans or a similar vehicle since your accident. They’re a lot of red trucks, but none fitting the description of our suspect vehicle.”
Hunt cleared his throat, forcibly. “I need another cup of that coffee. You’ve gone over everything we have on the owner of that club, with nothing new. Might have to wait until we get what the FBI has on him. He has clubs in San Diego, Long Beach and San Francisco, two more in Atlanta, and Savanna, on the east coast. Of course, the one here on Catalina Island. A sizable operation, I would say.” He tossed the report on his desk. “There are a few things there that piqued the curiosity of our undercover team. How does he manage all those places of business without ever leaving the local night club? Let’s see if we can answer some of these curiosities about Mr. Harvey Marino and his clubs.”
He gulped down half of the lukewarm coffee. “You’ve talked with Samantha Brooks and her friend, Commander McGowin, a few times, haven’t you?”
“I have,” Margie said. “I expressed our gratitude for their timely assistance. Samantha calls our office every day, checking on your condition. She’s curious about the identity of the young woman whose body they dragged onto the beach. My suspicious nature has me wondering if there might be more than just her curiosity that she’s not talking about. She’s very likable and well known there on the island.”
“I don’t think she’s hiding anything but I’d like to have a background check done. She and the commander may be able to get inside the bar and nightlife scene, something we’ve been slow to penetrate. Every time I run across those two, its late evening. See what you can find out. The commander’s an open book at this point, as a military officer. I want everything we have on our young nurse and her doctor.” Hunt washed down several pills with a large gulp of coffee. “Samantha denied having a lot of patients with addiction problems in the doctor’s practice. We know other doctors have reported a steady increase over the past three years.”
Margie waved a file folder. “While they were putting you back together, we received the coroner’s report and more information on the young female victim those two pulled onto the beach. I prefer that it be you who releases the victim’s identity to Samantha.” She flipped through the report. “The victim’s name is Mira Langham, of San Diego. She dropped out of the University of California, San Diego after becoming addicted to cocaine and, later, heroin. She got mixed up with the wrong crowd her senior year of high school, pulled away and entered college. There, she remained clean for two years until she met an older man while working as a bar maid on summer break, at a club in downtown San Diego. With him, she returned to the wild side of life, working at various jobs in the local clubs. Like so many young, attractive women, she played on her youth and beauty to get where she wanted to go. Drug addiction soon forced her into prostitution. Undercover agents in the area knew her as an attractive drug user and suspected high-price prostitute.”
She turned away. “Here’s the best part. She definitely worked out of Harvey Marino’s club in San Diego, Chief. One more breadcrumb leading us to that club owner and his nudie bars.”
Chapter 15
Commander Dick McGowin looked over the fully loaded four-year-old SUV. Not a hell of a lot to show for twelve years of a man’s life, he thought. He finished the last of his morning coffee and started the engine for the drive from San Diego to Long beach. He decided to put his belongings in storage there until his plans came together, or not. He hesitated for several minutes without moving, then, went ahead with the call. He felt his hand tremble with nervous energy. “Hi Sam, Dick McGowin. Are you free to talk for a few minutes? I know you’re seeing patients. You may be with the doctor.”
“Go ahead, Dick. Make it as brief as possible. We’re quite busy.”
“I thought you should know this. I ended active duty with the navy in an exit interview at the Pentagon and flew back to San Diego today. I’ve been given thirty days terminal leave. Reserve status begins after that, and I’ll continue flying with the navy reserve. As a matter of fact, the reserve move is a promotion to full commander.” He’d expected a more positive response. Now, he was unsure about how far he should go with her, while on the phone. She could be standing next to the doctor. “I’ve arranged a meeting with Dammit and Robbin for later this week, to finalize the job of chief pilot for the medical corporation controlled by Robbin. The new position will not interfere with my flying status in the naval reserve. I felt a need to share this with you immediately.”
He heard a weak reply, “Thank you. I also plan to rent something temporary on the island until the dust settles around our developing relationship. Being close will help us see how the popcorn pops out, without commitment. I hope you agree with my plan.” He heard her sharp intake of breath and waited.
She spoke briefly to someone else. “Yes, thank you.” She returned to Dick. “I’m thrilled with your decision to stay close. No doubt you’ve given the matter a great deal of thought. I trust your good judgement and look forward to seeing you.”
Getting behind the wheel had given him time to think. He felt comfortable with his plan to find a temporary rental, with secured parking, in Long Beach, the practical place nearest the island. He would fly on to San Francisco, for his meeting in the corporate offices of Children’s Medical Care Associates.
He had finished his due diligence investigation into his new employer. What he found out had both shocked and pleased him. He thought he’d known all there was to know about his sister-in-law and her husband, his brother, until he peeled back the complete history of Doctor Robbin Goodrich McGowin. To his absolute dismay, he found Robbin was a billionaire international mover and shaker on the corporate board of United Equity Investments International. The single largest Japanese real estate investor in the United States. Furthermore, Robbin had been the sole heir to three generations of her family’s real es
tate empire before merging with the Japanese firm. His new employer, Children’s Medical Care Associates, a privately held non-profit children’s hospital corporation established by an endowment from Doctor Robbin Goodrich, immediately after her marriage to his brother. His look into the financial stability of his new employer clearly showed an enormous potential for growth. He now understood why Dammit and Robbin were so confident he would agree to their offer. He considered the investment opportunities offered. That alone would secure his future.
He turned his thoughts to the planes he would be flying and the people he would be working with. He planned to become familiar with them all, on this first short visit to San Francisco. He’d been driving for two hours. He hadn’t realized how bad traffic could be on I-405. He pulled into a truck stop for a quick hamburger and pee break, when his cell phone rang. Sam popped up on the screen. “Hi. You must be on your way home,” he said.
“Yeah, I just had a conversation with DEA Agent Hunt. First, I want to thank you for your call this morning, and express my congratulations on your promotion to commander. I’m also very pleased you’re going to be close by for a while and I agree with you about our personal situation. I do have high hopes. I won’t be coy and hide my feelings for you now, Dick. I think you know that.” She took a deep breath. “I can’t wait to see you and talk things through. And Dick, please be discrete about our meeting again until I smooth out my working relationship with Steven. The romantic involvement is over and I’m trying to salvage my job and a decent friendship. So far, Steven refuses to accept the fact that our romantic encounter ended naturally.”
She took a deep breath. “Now, the other thing. Hunt says the investigation into the death of that young woman we found in the surf turned up a great deal of information. Her name was Mira Langham of San Diego. Death was deliberate, caused by fentanyl, an opiate fifty times stronger than heroin. Even a small amount can kill you. The icepick was an extra step to make sure she wouldn’t survive.” Samantha stopped to gather her thoughts. “Hunt believes the people behind the counterfeit opiates are killing off addicts attempting to give away their identity secrets. In some cases, pushers are experimenting with these new opiates, like fentanyl. They’re using small amounts to cut heroin, and oxycodone, making it go farther, and less expensive. There’s also another new artificial opiate called carfentanil, which is one hundred times stronger than heroin. Until the providers get the mixture right, they’re going to keep on killing a great many addicts. Hunt says the most prevalent drug on the streets where we live is oxycodone hydrochloride, known as M 30s or Blues. He wants to meet with us when you know you’re going to be here for a while.”
In the Blink of An Eye Page 6
