‘“So, had Zach ‘moved on?’” Laura asked.
“Outwardly, he had to. But he had his reservations.”
“What do you mean?”
“He’d heard there were complaints, not about the design, but about the product. The system was not working the way the Savannah River people wanted it to. Sprinkler heads were breaking down, the AIS…automatic irrigation system…was not functioning as it should, sections of new piping were inadequate to handle the load during peak periods, the list went on.”
“Did Zach say anything to Mr. Akhtar about what he’d heard?”
“No, not directly. Zach knew Akhtar wouldn’t be happy with him making inquiries, especially after previously being told that it was not his problem. So he went to the Golf Course and met the superintendent, Bill Goodspeed. Bill and Zach were old friends. They’d worked together installing the new irrigation system at the course. Zach told Bill what he’d learned.”
Marc thought back to when Goodspeed came to The Palm Tree Golf Club a few days before. That was when he first heard that Zach Saylor had been involved in an accident at the plant.
“What did Goodspeed say?” Marc asked.
“According to Zach, Goodspeed told him that it would be best to forget about the Savannah River Golf Links job and concentrate on helping other customers with their projects.”
“That sounds a lot like what Akhtar had told Zach.” Marc said.
“Pretty much. Then, about a week before the accident, Akhtar told Zach that he no longer had any control over product quality and if he wanted to keep his job, he should concentrate on working with other projects.
“Ms. Saylor, would you mind if I contacted Bill Goodspeed and ask him a few questions?”
Eleanor glanced at her watch, “I have no objection, but it’s past ten.”
“I know, but we’re up against the clock. Every minute that goes by is another minute lost.”
Eleanor gave him the phone number. She knew it by heart. “If you don’t mind, please don’t tell him that I gave you this number.”
Marc nodded, then, using his cell phone, he made the call.
The three of them were silent while Marc listened to the puttering sound of Bill Goodspeed’s phone ringing through his cell.
Marc was about to give up and end the call when he heard, “Hello,” followed by a cough. It was a raspy male’s voice, a sure sign he had awoken Goodspeed.
“Mr. Goodspeed, please forgive me for calling at such a late hour. My name is Marc LaRose. I’d like to speak to you about the death of Zachary Saylor.”
There was the sound of Goodspeed clearing his throat and the rustling of bed covers. Then, in the background, Marc heard the sound of a female’s voice; “Who’s that on the phone, hon?”
“Mr. Goodspeed, you still there?” Marc asked.
“Yeah,” this was followed by another long cough. “Who’d you say you were again? Rose, or something?”
“My name is Marc LaRose. I understand you were a friend of Zachary Saylor who passed away recently while working at the Apex Irrigation Plant. I’d like to talk to you about what happened.”
There was another pause in the conversation.
“Look, I don’t know who you are, and besides, other than what’s in the papers, I don’t have anything more to add,” Goodspeed finally replied.
“Yeah, I have the article right here, but it really doesn’t say much. When would be a convenient time to speak to you about this?”
“Convenient? For me? Probably never,” Goodspeed’s voice was beginning to clear.
“Look, Mr. Goodspeed, I understand why you may be reluctant to talk about this, especially with someone you’ve never met, and I know this is kind of last minute, but I really need to discuss this with you.”
“I’m afraid tonight’s not good. As you can imagine, tomorrow’s our biggest day of the year. It’s the final day of the Monarch golf tournament and I have to be there before the sun comes up to make sure everything’s perfect for the match.”
“I understand. How about we meet up at the golf course then?” Marc said.
“Sure, I suppose. But, if you want to talk, you’ll have to get there real early. I doubt I’ll have much time to spare.”
“I understand. Where can I meet you?” Marc asked.
Marc heard Goodspeed exhale into the phone. “I’ll probably be at the superintendent’s office most of the day monitoring course conditions. Should be there from five in the morning until the tournament is over,” he said.
“Good. Thanks for agreeing to see me, I look forward to talking with you then.”
There was a small hesitation, then, Goodspeed asked, “Say, what’s your interest in this? You an insurance adjuster or something?”
“No, just a friend. Look forward to seeing you tomorrow. Good night.”
“Good night,” Goodspeed said and ended the call.
Marc put his phone away and gave Ms. Saylor a look.
“Mr. LaRose, there is one other thing I’d like to give you,” Eleanor said. She reached for a small bowl that was sitting on a stand next to the front door. Using her forefinger, she examined a few door keys that had been placed in the bowl and picked one out. She handed Marc the key. “I know I won’t need this, but maybe it could help.”
Marc looked at it. It was a double-sided key that Marc recognized, the kind commonly used in commercial locks. It was purposely made for a lock that would be difficult to pick.
“This was Zach’s work key. He only used it on the days that Apex was closed and he wanted to use the side entrance.”
Marc slid the key into his pants pocket.
“Mr. LaRose, if you find out anything, would you please let me know?”
Marc noticed tears welling up in her eyes. “Yes, Eleanor. I will, I promise.”
Eleanor Saylor walked Marc and Laura to the door. When they had descended the three steps to the sidewalk, Marc turned. Eleanor was standing with the door still open.
“Until tomorrow,” Eleanor said, and then she quietly shut the door.
“Until tomorrow,” Marc whispered.
Chapter Fourteen
Marc and Laura were quiet during the short drive back to Rose Hill. When they arrived there, Marc saw that save for a few hangers-on, the hotel bar was almost empty. The clock over the bar showed it was 11:15 p.m.
“I suppose it’s too late for a nightcap,” Laura said.
“Ordinarily, I’d agree. But the events of late have been anything but. Can I interest you in a scotch?” Marc asked.
Laura shrugged, “Sure, why not.”
Marc ordered the drinks and carried them to a small table on the lower level of the lounge, away from the few customers that remained at the bar.
Laura asked, “So you’re going to talk with that Goodspeed guy tomorrow at the golf course? With Jake playing in the tournament and you being his caddy, it seems we already have a pretty full day planned. Do you really think you’ll have time?”
“Jake doesn’t tee off until 10:30 a.m. I figured if we get to the course early, around seven or so, and grab breakfast, that would leave me plenty of time to meet with Goodspeed and still have time to get Jake ready for the tournament.”
Laura seemed to consider Marc’s plan. “All right, but just as long as you understand, we’re here to support Jake. I’m not saying that I wouldn’t like some retribution for what those jerks did to me and Ann Marie, but Jake is the reason we’re here. His performance on the course has to come first.”
Marc took a slow sip as he looked at Laura over the rim of his glass. He set his glass on the table. “I understand. When I tell you that I’ll be there for Jake, that’s a promise I intend to keep. But I know when something doesn’t feel right. I’ve experienced that in the past and this is one of those times.”
Laura studied her glass. “Marc, have you thought about sharing our concerns with the police?”
“Of course I have. The problem is, what do we tell them? We were nosing ar
ound the Apex plant pretending to be police officers because we suspected there’s something going on that they failed to see during their investigation?”
Laura hesitated, “Yeah, I see what you mean.”
“Look, I don’t intend to jeopardize Jake’s chances of a good showing in the tournament on a hunch that something nefarious may or may not be happening there. He has too much riding on this. But with everything we’ve seen so far, things don’t feel right. I’m sorry, but I can’t rest until I’m satisfied that either there’s something there, or that everything we’ve experienced is just a string of coincidences that doesn’t warrant wasting any more of our time.”
Laura appeared to accept Marc’s explanation. She took a deep swallow of her drink, “Fair enough. Our rooms are reserved through tomorrow night. Hopefully we won’t need them and we can leave Aiken right after the tournament.”
Marc raised his half empty glass, “Here’s to Jake, and to tomorrow.”
“To Jake,” Laura said. They clicked glasses and finished their drinks.
Marc paid the bill and walked Laura to the elevator. Although they rode up in silence, Marc sensed that Laura had something else on her mind as she had become unusually quiet. When they approached her room, she suddenly leaned into him, slowly wrapped her arms around him and held him in a tight embrace.
“What?” was all he could manage as suddenly her lips searched for his. Marc’s immediate reaction was instinctive. He returned the kiss, but worried her intentions were becoming more serious.
Before Marc could break it off, there was the heavy metallic sound of a room door’s locking mechanism disengaging from across the hallway. As the door swung open, Marc pulled back and held Laura at arm’s length. An older gentleman appeared from around the door and, with little more than a glance at Marc and Laura, he let the door swing shut. “If you need a room, mine’s free, at least for a few minutes. I have to go out for awhile.” He proffered his room key.
“Uh, no, thanks we were just, uh, talking,” Marc said.
The old man turned, shook his head and hobbled toward the elevator. “From my vantage point, your lady friend appeared to be giving you quite a tongue lashing,” he said over his shoulder.
Marc looked back at the man’s closed door and noticed the door’s peephole. He’d apparently seen them kissing from inside his room.
Marc whispered to Laura, “If it’s all the same to you, I think we’d better turn in.”
Marc heard the chime of the elevator door opening for the man to enter.
“I suppose,” she said reluctantly. She stared in the direction of the gentleman as he disappeared into the elevator. “Thanks for nothing, you old fuck,” she whispered.
Marc walked the few steps to his room. “Goodnight, Laura,” he said without turning. But all he heard was her door closing. She was gone.
********
Early the following morning, along the southern banks of the Savannah River six miles south of the Augusta Regional Airport, five men dressed in black wet suits strapped on scuba gear that had been stashed in a nearby hunting camp. The Savannah River is relatively shallow at this point, but deep enough to swim below the surface as it flows lazily toward the City of Savannah and the Atlantic Ocean some 95 miles to the southeast. Under the cover of darkness, the men, using three battery-powered underwater tugs, slowly and methodically made their way across the river to the other side.
The Savannah River Site is a sprawling 310-square-mile government-run facility. The Bomb Plant was originally built in the early 1950’s to combat the threat of the USSR’s atomic capability during the Cold War.
Out of reach of Soviet bombers and away from large urban city habitation, the Savannah River Site, or SRS, as it would eventually be called, was ideally located. The River, forming a natural border between South Carolina and Georgia, was another consideration for the plant’s location. A reliable supply of fresh water would be needed to cool the huge nuclear reactors planned for the facility. The river’s water also met the government’s need for the production of heavy water, a necessary component in the production of nuclear energy. Although most of the Site’s nuclear reactors had long been dismantled, one reactor, known as C reactor, had been held in cold storage, where, under cover of top secrecy, it was slowly refurbished in the possible scenario that it may be needed sometime in the future. With other world powers beginning to flex their nuclear capabilities, the decision had been made to recall C reactor’s plutonium producing capability.
The five men silently made their way across the river toward their destination, the Savannah River Site’s main water intake pipes. Aware that security at SRS was highly sophisticated, a well-organized plan had been developed for the surreptitious deployment of a thick rubber barrier to block the plant’s water intake from the river. An estimated 900,000 gallons a minute would be needed when the long dormant C reactor would be reactivated the following day. In attendance would be the U.S. Secretary of State, Secretary of Energy and a third guest, the Prime Minister of Israel.
Months of surveillance, as well as paid informants planted inside the over 10,000 person workforce at the Site, had provided the intruders with intelligence on how to best carry out their plan undetected. Just before dawn the following morning, with the barrier successfully installed, the men returned to the hunting cabin on the Georgia side of the river. They ate a full breakfast, then turned in for a few hours of sleep, in preparation to attend the Monarch Golf Tournament shortly after noon. Their partners in the plot would be waiting for them. There was still much work to do.
Chapter Fifteen
Understanding the need for an early start, Marc was first in the shower at 5:30 a.m. Jake was up shortly afterward and thirty minutes later the two men were ready to start their day. Jake seemed to have shaken off the events of the previous evening and appeared psyched with the prospect of a good showing in the tournament. Marc was not about to spoil Jake’s exuberance by mentioning that he suspected something else might be brewing at the Savannah River Golf Links besides great playing from the top ranked golfers in the world.
There was a soft knock on the door. Marc saw that Laura and Ann Marie appeared ready to go. “Did you ladies sleep well?” Marc asked as they entered the room.
Ann Marie gave Jake a quick glance, “Pretty well, I guess.” The two appeared to exchange the hint of a grin. Marc suspected the kids may have taken advantage of the time they were alone while he and Laura were meeting with Eleanor Saylor. Laura, however, had dark circles under her eyes. “You guys can grab a bite when we get to the course. I have a few things to check out.”
“Dad, what can be so important that you have to leave us, even for a few minutes?” Ann Marie looked confused.
“There’s a guy at the golf club I need to talk to. I won’t be long. While I’m gone, Jake can use the time to warm up. Don’t worry, I’ll be back well before Jake’s tee time.”
“Maybe I can be Jake’s substitute caddy until you return from your meeting,” Ann Marie flashed another grin.
“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves. Jake needs to be concentrating on his game, not his caddy,” Marc said as he tossed her a wink.
“Oh Daddy— ”
Laura cut her off. “I think your father is right on this one. I’ll stand in for Marc while Jake is at the range. I’m sure Jake will feel good just knowing you’re close by.”
“I guess,” Ann Marie said.
Marc opened the door, “Okay, it’s time to get started. I know we’re a little early, but better to be safe than sorry.”
Even with the early start, they found the Augusta traffic was backed up with lines of cars leading to the golf course. Marc maneuvered around the backup and turned into the entrance reserved for the players. “Looks like another sell-out crowd,” he said.
Once through the security gate, Marc found a spot in the player’s parking area.
“Laura, would you mind accompanying the kids to breakfast?” Marc asked.
She gave Marc a look, “Uh, I thought you’d want me to go with you when you meet up with mister what’s-his-name?”
“I appreciate the offer, but someone should stay with the kids. I shouldn’t be long.”
“Dad, what’s going on? You guys are acting a little strange this morning. Something happen that we should know about?” Ann Marie asked.
Marc and Laura gave each other a quick look. “Nothing important” Marc said. “We met someone last night who works here at the course. We got to talking and I let on that I was caddying for Jake. He asked if I could stop over and see him before Jake teed off, that’s all,” Marc said.
“Aren’t there rules against getting inside information regarding course conditions?” Jake asked.
“I’m sure there are,” Marc replied. “Don’t worry, I promise we won’t be discussing anything that we shouldn’t be.”
“I suppose we should be going then,” Laura said, glancing at her cell phone.
Marc watched as Laura and the kids trundled off toward the bag storage to retrieve Jake’s clubs. Getting directions from a passing groundskeeper, Marc made the ten-minute walk to the course superintendent’s office. It was located in a large building out of view of golfers and patrons near the perimeter of the golf course property. It even had its own entrance gate that opened onto one of the city’s thoroughfares, now closed to traffic for the tournament. Entering through an open overhead door, he saw that the building housed a variety of mowers, backhoes, tractors, trimmers and various pieces of equipment necessary to keep the golf course in pristine condition. A corner of the structure had been partitioned off forming a closed office space. A sign above the entrance door read, “Bill Goodspeed, Course Superintendent.” Marc tapped on the door.
“Come in,” came a voice from inside. Marc recognized the voice from his phone conversation the evening before.
Bill Goodspeed’s eyes were puffy, probably from the stress of getting the golf course in shape for the tournament and lack of sleep.
Masters of Terror: A Marc LaRose Mystery Page 12
