by Jeff Noonan
“Want us to take care of him, Rick? We could do another Camden dump job like we did with Carter.”
Rick Burley, the bearded man, thought about that for a moment, but immediately dismissed the thought. “No. But thanks for the offer. I’m going to do some thinking on this one. If he’s a Fed, we need to be extra careful. Maybe he’ll fall in the river, or have a car accident, or something like that. Have a beer and calm down, guys. I’ll take care of this one. If I need any help, I’ll holler.”
The group locked the outer door and went into a beer and profanity-laced huddle. All of them had thoughts as to the appropriate way to dispose of their problem. Rick encouraged them and took notes on some of the better suggestions.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN - A QUIET MORNING RUN
ee trotted down Broad Street, turning left as usual to run down the tree-lined officer’s housing row. It was always cool and pleasant here, with the huge oak trees between him and the river. He enjoyed this part of his run. As he passed the end of the housing area, he noticed the same big black car behind a small warehouse. It was there every morning, with smoke roiling out of the driver’s window. He had never seen the man in the car, but he imagined that he worked in the warehouse and was killing time before work by sitting in the car and smoking his cigarette.
Lee was soon past the warehouses and out onto the deserted air strip. He had asked about this place and found that it had been an active military airfield, known as Mustin Field, back in World War Two. But it was abandoned now, with part of it converted to ball fields and the majority of it deserted completely. The old runways were cracked and broken, with weeds sprouting where proud aircraft had once landed. It was a sad sight, Lee thought. But it made a great place for him to run every morning.
He jogged across the airfield to the river, where he stopped and stretched. He was standing beside the seawall pilings on the riverbank. From here he could see across the river to the opposite bank over in New Jersey. Idly, he wondered what town that was over there. It looked pleasant, he thought.
Then he heard the sound of an automobile behind him. Turning, he saw that it was a grey Navy pickup speeding across the old airfield toward him. Oh, Hell, he thought. I hope there isn’t some rule against me being out here. I didn’t see any signs. But the pickup was coming straight toward him, so something was up for sure. He straightened up and stood, waiting for the pickup to get to him.
The pickup kept coming, only slowing slightly as it got near him. Finally, it slammed on its brakes and slid right to where he had been standing a moment before. But he’d jumped to his left just before it got there. He found himself standing beside the pickup’s engine compartment as its doors flew open and two men tumbled out. In his haste, the driver tripped and fell, but the man on Lee’s side of the vehicle used the door as a fulcrum, swinging on it with his feet well off the ground and aimed at Lee’s head.
Lee instinctively ducked, and the man’s boots cleared his head by inches. Lee straightened and grabbed his assailant’s legs, jerking them up and away from the pickup. The startled man lost his grip on the pickup door and fell heavily, the air leaving him in a huge grunt. But he quickly rolled over and was getting to his feet. The other man was coming around the back of the truck, and Lee saw he was holding a baseball bat. These guys meant business, and Lee was trapped between them and the river.
Thinking fast, Lee scrambled over the hood of the pickup, putting himself on its driver side, away from the two men. Then he dashed down the side of the truck, hoping to get past them and out into the open of the air-field. He got to the back of the pickup, thinking he might make it. But the man with the bat was too fast. As Lee cleared the back of the pickup, the man caught him in the stomach with a wild swing of the bat. Lee dropped to his knees, grabbing the back bumper of the pickup for support, with an indescribable pain in his rib cage.
Seeing that the man was moving around, looking for a clear swing with the bat, Lee struggled to get up and pull air back into his lungs at the same time. Somehow, he would never know how, he managed to lunge at the man just as the bat swung at him. Lee got inside the swing and caught the man in a clumsy tackle that brought both of them to the ground with Lee’s arms around the man’s middle, holding on desperately. The man flailed at Lee’s back with both fists, trying to dislodge him. But Lee hardly felt this beating over the overwhelming pain where the bat had done its work.
Then the other man came back into action. With a tremendous overhead swing of his clasped hands, he caught Lee in the center of his back. Lee’s hold on the other man was lost as he tried to turn to face this new danger. Deep inside, Lee knew he was lost. Is this how it all ends? After all I’ve been through, am I gonna die out here in these weeds, beaten to death by these two assholes?
It was an odd thought, but it gave him a new strength. Twisting around, he managed to get to his feet and swing a roundhouse right at the man who had just hit him. He caught him dead center, and he felt the man’s nose crush under his fist. But now the other man was up and on top of him. Lee went down again.
Then, as fast as it had started, the attack stopped. The man’s weight lifted off Lee, and he found himself free. He rolled over, ready to continue the fight, but the man was lying four feet away from him with a look of terror on his face. Standing at Lee’s feet was the big man that Lee had seen twice in Media. But now the big man was dressed in work clothes. Lee finally recognized him. He was the huge rigger who’d warned Lee about getting so close to the edge of the drydock last week! But now he was holding a black pistol that was pointed at the head of the man he’d just pulled off Lee.
“You okay, Lieutenant?” The words startled Lee. He was looking around wildly, trying to figure out what had happened. The big man repeated himself. “Are you okay?”
Lee sat up painfully. “I’ll live. Thanks to you for that. What the hell happened? Who are you? And who the hell are these two idiots?” Still looking around, Lee realized that the big black car that had been behind the warehouse was now here beside the pickup. One of the attackers was lying full-length in the weeds, motionless. The other was staring fixedly at the big man’s gun muzzle.
The big man laughed easily at Lee’s confusion. “Good. Glad you’re still moving. You took a bit of a beating. But you were making sure that they knew they were in a fight, I’ll say that for you.”
Lee felt his ribs. Some probably broken, he thought. Looking up, he repeated his biggest question. “Who are you?”
The big man looked at him thoughtfully. “I guess it won’t hurt to tell you. I’m Bill Jordan. I was told that I could say that I work for a friend of your father’s. Beyond that, I’m just a good Samaritan who happened to be driving by when this happened. Capisce?”
Lee nodded. “You been following me since I got here, eh?”
“Nah, I told you. I just happened to be driving by.”
“Okay, have it your way. You just happened to be driving down a deserted runway in the middle of nowhere at six in the morning, just in time to see these guys tee off on me. I’ll go along with that. But please tell Tony that I said thanks, will you?”
Big Billy smiled back at him and nodded. “Okay, Lieutenant. Now what do you want me to do with these guys? I can take care of them so they don’t bother you anymore if you want me to.” He said it in a nonchalant manner as if he were talking about disposing of food scraps. Lee looked at the two men. He saw with some relief that the first man was stirring and struggling to sit up. He had a moment’s hesitation as he tried to figure out a reasonable solution to this dilemma.
“No, Bill. Let’s tie them up so they can’t pull any more crap. Then I’ll take over. I know a place where these guys will be able to do us some good. I’d like to borrow your pistol, though. I left mine in the BOQ.”
Bill nodded. “Sounds good. I’ve got just the thing for them in the car.” Handing the pistol to Lee, he went to his car and came back with two pairs of handcuffs. He saw Lee’s look of disbelief and laughed aloud. “Nothing says
you can’t borrow a good idea from the other side. I always knew these ‘d come in handy someday.”
Carefully staying out of Lee’s line of fire, Bill made short work of snapping the handcuffs onto the two man. While he was doing that, Lee was deciding on a plan of action. Alive, these two might be able to give the FBI some valuable information. But Lee wasn’t sure who he could trust in the base police, or even the Philadelphia police, for that matter. He needed to get them off the base and into FBI custody somehow.
“Bill, I’m afraid that I’m going to have to ask another favor of you.” The big man grunted his assent. “I need to get these guys off the base without anyone knowing that we’ve done it. Can we use your car?”
Another grunt, then, “Yeah, no problem, and I know a place we can stash them if we need to do that.”
“You’re good, Bill. I see why Tony sent you.”
Big Bill just smiled, almost shyly accepting the compliment.
Bill walked over to his car and opened the trunk. Then, with absolutely no fanfare, he picked up first one, then the other, of the would-be assassins and tossed them into the trunk. One of them tried to protest, and Bill gently clasped him by the throat, saying, “My friend, if I hear a sound out of either of you before I let you out, I’ll just start shooting into the trunk. I’m sure you’ll eventually die if I shoot enough. But it will be a bit painful while you wait for that one good shot. Now, are you going to be quiet or do I have to make you quiet?” The two men assured him that they would do whatever he asked. He closed the trunk lid and turned, grinning hugely, to Lee. “Okay Lieutenant, let’s go.”
They stopped at the BOQ, where Lee rapidly threw on some jeans and a shirt, being careful to get his ankle holster and pistol this time. He made a fast telephone call to his FBI friend, Tom Wright. Then he followed Bill’s car out the main gate and into Philadelphia. The two cars drove a short distance before turning into the sports complex, where they parked in a deserted parking lot that was hidden from view by a huge sports arena.
Bill got the two out of the trunk and brought them to Lee’s car. He then handcuffed them to some stout pipes running down the sides of the arena and gave the handcuff key to Lee. They shook hands and Bill drove away. He had no intention of waiting for the FBI to arrive.
It didn’t take long. Within a half-hour, two men in suits pulled up to the car in a van. They introduced themselves as FBI agents from the Philadelphia office and told Lee that they had orders to deliver the two prisoners to FBI headquarters in Washington, D.C. Lee turned the two men over to them and watched them leave.
Well, they obviously know I’m here, whoever they are. Grasping his aching ribs, he shivered at the thought.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN - TERMINATION INITIATED
ee watched the FBI van as it headed for the I-95 on-ramp adjacent to the sports complex. When it was out of sight, he drove back to the BOQ to change into his uniform. But, as his adrenaline level dropped and his excitement faded, he began to realize how badly he was hurting. Arriving at his room, he collapsed into a nearby chair and stayed there for several long minutes. He was having trouble breathing because of a sharp stabbing pain in his rib cage where the bat had done its work. It seemed like he was aching all over his body.
Taking short, shallow breaths to minimize the pain, he rose and slowly peeled off his shirt in front of a mirror to assess the damage. It didn’t look good. He had a solid purple line, about two inches wide, across his belly where the baseball bat had done its work. Turning, he could see bruises starting to rise on his back where his assailants’ fists had hammered on him. He wasn’t too concerned about the bruises on his back, but the pain when he breathed worried him. Looking at the mess that the mirror had revealed, he softly muttered, “I guess discretion is the better part of valor. Time to go see a doctor.” Slowly he got out of his jeans and donned a khaki uniform. He called Jane to let her know that he was going to be a little late, and then he slowly made his way to his car and headed for the Naval hospital.
The doctor was not particularly sympathetic. He’d seen his share of Navy people who’d been in fights and this one didn’t look any different, except for the old scars that were scattered across the patient’s upper chest. “I don’t know what the hell you are thinking about, Lieutenant. Fighting isn’t ever a good idea, but for you to take a chance like this is suicidal. If the thing that hit you had been a little higher, we’d be fitting you for a coffin right now. Someone did a fine job patching you up, but you’re endangering all of that good work with this crap. You should know better!”
Lee didn’t try to correct him.
The X-rays confirmed that he had two cracked ribs and several bad bruises. The doctor wrapped his ribs and gave him some painkillers. By the time Lee left the hospital, he was able to move and breathe more easily.
Lee arrived at the office just as the weekly work progress meeting was starting. Jane took one look at him when he came through the door and, in her most piercing voice, demanded to know what was wrong. “What the hell happened to you? You look awful!”
Lee just smiled at her. “Nothing, Jane. No big deal. I just took a fall in the tub in my BOQ room. Cracked a couple of ribs. Nothing that will stop me from keeping all of you on your toes.” He added the last sentence as the managers, alerted by Jane’s shrill query, came to the door of the conference room to see what had caused her excitement. “Go back to the meeting, Guys. I’ll be there in a minute.”
The meeting was routine and Lee got through it without any problems. When he finished, he returned to his office. As he walked through the reception area, Jane passed him a telephone message. It was from “Cousin Tom,” asking him to call back.
Lee took the message into his office, softly closing the door behind him. As soon as he was seated, he returned Tom Wright’s call. The voice on the other end answered immediately. “FBI headquarters, Agent Wright speaking.” Tom was obviously waiting for his call.
“Yo, Tom. Lee here, returning your call. What’s new?”
But Wright obviously wasn’t in the mood for congeniality or small talk. “I got your package. We’ve put them in solitary at the Marine Corps brig in Quantico. They’re not saying anything so far, but I’m headed down there shortly. By the time I’m done with them, they’ll be singing like birds. But that’s not why I called. My transportation committee told me that you were not looking so good when they picked up the package. How are you? And what happened? How in hell did you manage to capture two big thugs like those two? This thing has my entire chain of command asking questions and I don’t have any answers.” Lee laughed and told him the story of his morning jog and its exciting conclusion. He omitted nothing and just kept telling the story, even when Tom tried to ask questions.
“Just hold on. When I’m done you can ask me the details.” Finally, he got to the point where the van had picked up the two men and he stopped. “Okay, now you can ask those questions.”
But there was only silence on the telephone. After a moment with no comments, Lee asked, “Tom, are you still there?”
Tom finally came out of it with, “Yeah. Just trying to digest all of this. You’re saying that Big Tony has had a tail on you? Why?”
It was Lee’s turn to hesitate. “I don’t know, Tom. As soon as I get a chance, I’ll call him and find out. I have to assume that he was worried about something. He probably knows more than we do about all this stuff. They say that he’s got eyes everywhere around Philly.”
Again Tom was quiet for a moment. “Well, find out if you can. But it’s not really a big thing. The important thing is that it worked in our favor. You’re still alive, and now we have two of them under lock and key.” Tom paused again. He was obviously thinking his way through all of this as he was talking. “Even more important, this tells us two things that we didn’t know for sure before today. First, there really is something bad going on in that shipyard. Second, we now know for sure that the crooks aren’t working for, or with, Tony Bruno and the mob. That’s a lo
t of information we didn’t have yesterday. Good work.”
Lee said, “Thanks, but I’m not sure that I’ve really done much. I’ve been asking some questions, and I guess I must have made someone nervous. I do have a theory on our problem, but I don’t want to talk too much here. The walls could have ears. Besides, you’ll probably get a lot more than theories from those two idiots in Quantico.”
“I hope so, Lee. I’m heading there now. I’ll call when I get a chance and let you know what I learn.”
It was Lee’s turn to hesitate. “Tom, maybe we’d better talk about my theory. If I’m right, maybe it can help you when you interrogate those two. I’m probably just being paranoid about talking here anyway. Do you want to hear my thoughts on this now, or would you rather wait?”
“Hell, give it to me. Anything I can do to appear smarter may help.”
“All right, here’s my thoughts. I think there’s a fairly large ring of people here that are fixing it so the Navy has to pay for stuff that is never received. In other words, these people are placing orders for equipment and material that they don’t need, then claiming that these imaginary items are received so the Navy pays for them. I think the group is somehow centered around the shop planners, probably just in the machinery and electrical/electronic groups.”
At that point, Tom’s interrupted, his voice raised. “Whoa, whoa! Slow down. What’s a shop planner? What’re these ‘groups’ you’re talking about?””
Lee laughed. “Sorry, Tom. I forgot I wasn’t talking to a sailor. Let’s start with the groups. The shipyard’s production workers are divided by trade into huge working groups. Then the groups are further divided into shops. Within every shop is a person, or group of people, that are called the shop planners. It’s their job to manage work schedules and make sure that the repair material is pre-staged so it is ready when needed to perform work on the ships. You with me so far?”
