To Honor We Call You: A Florida Action Adventure Novel (Scott Jarvis Private Investigator Book 9)

by Scott Cook

  “You’re sure this is all right, Aleja?” Scott asked at the threshold. “I mean…”

  She waved it off, “Mijo, it’s okay. George is over it.”

  Scott locked eyes with my mom, “Aleja, it’s not just George who has to get over it. I’m telling you now that I won’t tolerate any nastiness. He said some disrespectful things last time. I will not let that pass this time, especially aimed toward Lisa.”

  My mom took his hands and giggled, “So manful! Don’t worry, Scott, it’s okay.”

  We went inside and George was standing at the kitchen bar. He turned and smiled at us, although I could see he was a little nervous. Morgan and Rocky came over and sniffed him and then let themselves be petted before wandering out the open sliders to the pool deck.

  “Welcome back, guys,” George said. “Listen… I… I want to apologize for the last time. I was worried and upset and overreacted.”

  “Well,” I said with a grin. “I did steal your boat.”

  George smiled, “Yeah… for a good cause. Look, Scott, I said some stupid stuff about you and what you do. I honestly didn’t mean that… I hope you guys will forget about it and we can pretend it never happened, huh? Still be friends?”

  “Sure, George,” Scott said, shaking his hand. “Water under the bridge. And I promise that next time we steal your boat, we’ll ask first.”

  George laughed, “Sounds good! By the way, we’ve got a couple of guests who’d like to speak with you.”

  He led us out onto the pool deck and there was Ray and Angelique Tavares sitting at the big table with the umbrella in it. Ray stood up and smiled a little nervously.

  “Glad to see you again, Scott and Lisa,” Ray began. “Scott, this is my mother, Angelique.”

  Scott shook the older woman’s hand and smiled at her, “A pleasure, ma’am. Ray… how come you two are here?”

  Ray sat back down and glanced at his mother who looked uncomfortable, “After what happened a couple of weeks ago… and after receiving a call from… from my brother earlier today… I convinced mama that it’s time to tell her story.”

  I looked at Angelique and asked, “And hand over the gift Ray’s father gave you?”

  She met my eyes and had the grace enough to flush a little, “I should’ve told you sooner… but it is a hard thing to talk about for me.”

  “And no one is asking you too, matron,” Scott said in a soothing tone and with a gentle smile on his face. Christ, when he let go with his full charm it was like a dam bursting. I can’t think of too many women who could be immune to it. “We didn’t come here to make you relive anything painful… or to try and pry into the secret places of your heart.”

  Angelique was certainly not immune to Scott’s charm. She actually flushed again. His intensity and sincerity seemed to affect even her, a woman old enough to be his mother and almost his grandmother. She drew in a long breath and smiled, “Gracias, mijo. That is very kind.”

  “But we do need your help,” Scott went on gently, reaching out and taking her hand. “I need what Antonio gave you so long ago… I need the necklace.”

  Angelique nodded, tears coming to her eyes, “Si… I know. Ramon has told me… it’s just…”

  “Mama,” Ray implored softly. “It has been so long…”

  “It’s all I have of your father, Ramolito,” Angelique said, using a term of endearment she’d probably used when Ray was a little boy.

  Silence fell then. I felt for the woman. She’d obviously loved this man and he’d given her a son she loved. And yet he vanished when she was a young woman and she’d never heard from him again. Somehow and for some reason, she’d clung to the gift he’d given her for almost fifty years. It was touching but more than a little strange.

  Sure, she’d loved a man when she was nineteen and had born his son… but okay, you’d think that coming to the States and starting a new life would close the wound. You’d think that a pretty woman, which Angelique still was even in her late sixties, would have found a new love in that time.

  The older woman drew in a deep breath and then reached under the neckline of her floral print blouse. Her hands moved behind her neck and she drew out a golden chain and an oval golden medallion that hung from it. She passed it to Scott who took it and drew the woman to her feet.

  “Thank you,” he said.

  “If this will stop something terrible, then it’s the least I can do,” She replied and returned the hug. “But it is the last thing I have of Ray’s father…”

  “No,” Scott soothed. “You have something else, matron. Something far more precious. You have his son, a man you can be proud of.”

  Angelique began to cry and opened her other arm to gather Ray in as well, “Si… si… you are a wise young man.”

  My mom leaned in close to my ear, “He’s a melter of hearts, that one. He is a true gift, mija. I hope you appreciate him fully. As I know he appreciates you.”

  I felt a lump in my throat, “I do, mommy… but I also get scared sometimes. Losing him would kill me.”

  My mother squeezed me, “Lisa, no matter it lasts forever or is gone tomorrow… such love is a gift worth any price.”

  I knew she was right. As Scott stepped away from Angelique and Ray, he came over and grabbed mom and I into a three-way hug, “Geez man… this is worse than the end of Beaches, huh?”

  My mom and I laughed.

  34

  Lisa was more than a little displeased when I had to inform her that she was not invited to the meeting with Grayson. I was too. In spite of the fact that it always bothered me to put Lisa in harm’s way, she’d proven over and over again to be extremely capable. She was brave, strong and smart. She possessed a resolve that was rare in most people. A person who could be relied on, even if she did do some crazy shit sometimes.

  Can you imagine that? Running off into the night… car chases… stealing a boat… confronting bad guys all by herself… such imprudence! Such unmitigated audacity!

  She really should follow my example…

  However, whether I liked it or not, the situation had gone beyond the private investigation stage. I had to take off my private detective fedora and put on my Navy cover, so to speak. We had now very much moved into the realm of international security.

  We met aboard the Gulfstream 700 that was apparently Grayson’s mobile command center. I’d been aboard the plane before on the night we confronted Shade. It was a large private aircraft equipped with conference room, seating and sleeping compartments along with a small galley.

  Grayson had chosen to touch down at the Miami Executive airport. It made sense, since this field was better suited to smaller private aircraft and could accommodate the Gulfstream. My Uber let me off at the terminal and I went inside where I was met by Jackie Stevvins.

  “Good to see you again, sir,” She said as I approached her.

  “Really, Jackie?” I jibed.

  “Hey, this is an official op now, Commander,” Jackie stated as she led me out onto the tarmac to where the plane was parked. “Keep that in mind… chain of command is in play.”

  I groaned, “Great… so it’s yes sir and no sir and aye, aye ma’am all the way, huh?”

  Jackie nodded and let me enter the plane first. Before heading aft, I poked my head into the small flight deck. I didn’t’ recognize the copilot, but the man in the left-hand seat was familiar.

  “Good afternoon, Neil,” I said by way of greeting.

  Lieutenant Commander Neil Travis was Grayson’s full-time pilot. A lean man in his mid-thirties, Neil had been the one to guide me through the landing of the Frankenstein float plane back in August.

  Neil turned and shook my hand, “Good to see you again, Commander. I hear you just earned your wings.”

  “Barely,” I said. “Just did my first long-range solo today in fact.”

  “Ted, this is Lieutenant Commander Scott Jarvis,” Neil introduced me to the stocky young man in the second seat. “Newest member of the team. Scott, this is
Lieutenant Ted Travis, United States Airforce, our co-pilot.”

  I could see that Neil was grinning at that. My brows went up and I smiled back.

  “You guys brothers or what?” I asked teasingly.

  Ted Travis’ smile was glaringly white against his dark skin, “Brothers in arms, Commander. Nice to meet you.”

  “You too, L T,” I said, shaking his hand. “Bet you guys get ribbed a lot.”

  Neil chuckled, “It’s mostly us. They call us the Travis brothers and we love the look on folks’ faces the first time we meet.”

  “It’s a little childish,” Ted said with a grin. “But a lot of fun.”

  “If I had a nickel,” I joked and headed aft.

  Sitting around the conference table was the Colonel and Amanda Wilson. That struck me as odd somehow. Why was she always with him? She was a Navy Corpsman and not a combatant usually. Was she an advisor of some sort?

  Also sitting there was Commander Bryan Turner, which I sort of figured from Jackie’s cryptic warning. There was another man, this one somewhat soft-looking. He looked to be in his mid-forties. His brown hair was mixed with gray and receding and he wore heavily rimmed aviator-style eyeglasses, or birth controls as they were colloquially known in the military. Jackie and I took the remaining two empty chairs.

  “Scott, this is Richard Kelly, our head of intelligence,” Grayson introduced. “He joined us from Langley last year. Richard, this is Commander Scott Jarvis, the young man I’ve spoken to you about.”

  “Lieutenant Commander,” Turner added, staring straight at me.

  Kelly extended a hand for me to shake, “Pleasure to meet you, Commander. You’ve made for some fascinating reading. You’re SRB and your novels.”

  “You’ve read them?” I asked a little taken aback.

  Kelly had a slightly nasal quality to his voice, and yet he exuded confidence and cool collection. He grinned, “It’s my job. Some very exciting reads. How much of it is made up, would you say?”

  I chuckled, “I embellish here and there, and a few names have been changed… but it’s all true… except the lies, of course.”

  I thought I heard an utterance of reproach come from Turner but I couldn’t be sure. I ignored it at any rate.

  “Let’s all get on the same page,” Grayson began.

  “Before we do,” I said, holding up a hand. “Something’s been bothering me all day. How the hell did Bolivar get into the country unnoticed… and how is he getting out again?”

  Jackie grinned. Grayson smiled, “Right to the throat as usual, Scott. We’ve been pondering that ourselves.”

  “Either a plane or a boat,” Turner offered. “He certainly didn’t check in through customs… at least I don’t think so.”

  “He could have,” Kelly opined. “Forged documents…”

  I shook my head, “I don’t think so. If he’s such a persona non-grata as he seems to be, he wouldn’t risk that. I think the Commander is right. I’d even go so far as to guess that it wasn’t an aircraft. Far too risky as well.”

  “Too easy to track,” Turner said. His stoic visage hadn’t changed any. I guess admitting he might be right didn’t win me any brownie points. So much for us being blood brothers and him letting me read his comics.

  “It had to be by boat,” I said. “It’d be a piece of cake, honestly. Nobody really patrols the waters and inspects every single vessel that approaches or leaves the Florida coast… any coastline for that matter. A big boat could sashay right into Tampa Bay for example and nobody would say boo. Especially a sailboat.”

  “He wouldn’t risk bringing a large yacht in,” Turner said firmly. “I don’t buy that.”

  I shrugged, “A sailing yacht is less conspicuous… but I think the boat would have to be something that he could travel a long way in. It’d have to be fast, of course. Bolivar could come from Columbia, if that’s really where he’s based and then stop in Cuba or someplace in the Yucatan. So yeah… maybe a big motor yacht with a sizable tender that could run in from over the horizon. A thirty-foot center console wouldn’t even raise a…”

  I trailed off and felt a chill. Could it be?

  “What is it, Scott?” Grayson prodded.

  “When I was in Havana harbor,” I said, feeling a surge of excitement. “Garcia jumped off the cargo ship and onto a thirty foot or so center console. A CeeVee or something… the boat looked new and tricked out…”

  “That’s a big tender,” Amanda offered.

  “Yeah, it’d take a big boat to hoist that thing aboard,” Turner added.

  I looked at Grayson, “How big is the EcoLife yacht? And where is she now? Do you still have those sat photos you showed me a couple of weeks ago?”

  Grayson grinned broadly as he began tapping keys on his laptop. Kelly was smiling as well. Turner wasn’t. Oh well.

  Grayson spun his screen around, “Here she is.”

  I chuckled, “Son of a bitch… the tender on deck looks a lot like the boat I saw… Christ, how big is that yacht?”

  “Two hundred,” Grayson said.

  “So it was somewhere near Cuba when you went in,” Turner said.

  “Must have been,” I replied. “That center console probably has a range of a few hundred miles, though. The yacht could’ve been hanging out in the Tortugas or Cay Sal Bank for all we know. I don’t’ suppose you can track her now?”

  Grayson looked to Kelly who began working at his own laptop, “We’ve got her AIS transponder code… assuming it hasn’t been changed. However, if you’re right, then the yacht is still in the Gulf, somewhere off Tampa Bay or the Southwest coast of Florida. I’m sending a request to have one or two of our orbiting birds start running a search pattern.”

  “Hmm…” I pondered, drumming my fingers on the table top. “Bolivar was in my office at eleven today… if we assume he left and drove right back to Tampa, or somewhere near it, then he could’ve been on the small boat by one-thirty, two at the latest. That’s right when he called me. It was quiet on the line, so I’ll assume he wasn’t underway or even outside yet.”

  “So let’s say he runs offshore at thirty knots,” Jackie offered. “How far out would the yacht be parked do you think?”

  Turner frowned, “If it were me, I’d stay outside the EEZ. Two hundred miles or more.”

  I sighed, “That’s a long six hour run. Five at the minimum if they were doing forty knots. Which means he’s still got an hour at least… but I wonder…”

  Grayson waited.

  “That big yacht can probably do twenty-five knots,” I suggested. “Let’s say she cruises at fifteen and is fairly efficient at twenty. She might be closer than the two hundred limit. Why not? As far as they’re concerned, nobody would even think to look for them? Yet even if they’re a hundred miles out, that cuts down the travel time from the Bay to two and a half hours… but then they still have to spend another five getting into uncontrolled waters.”

  “Regardless, the yacht is within two hundred miles of the coast now,” Turner stated. “No way they’re any further away.”

  “Okay,” Kelly said, tapping in more instructions. “I’ll have the sat team scan for a big yacht and the smaller boat. You think Tampa Bay is the jump off spot?”

  I shrugged, “Doesn’t’ much matter. If it’s Clearwater or Sarasota, that just means more car time. Once at sea, the difference is negligible when we’re talking about a two-hundred mile run.”

  “Aren’t we forgetting something?” Jackie put in. ‘I know I’m just a lowly Gunnery Sergeant and all…”

  Grayson chuckled, “What is it, Jackie?”

  “Scott has to meet the guy,” Jackie said. “By nine o’clock tonight, he says… so if that’s the case… then Bolivar must still be in country, right?”

  “That may be, Gunny,” Turner said and then frowned, drumming his own fingers on the table. “Although…”

  “Although it doesn’t have to be him I meet,” I said. “Just a courier… because if it is Bolivar that I meet, the
n I’d have to bet he’d want a hostage, too.”

  “You mean take you along as added insurance that he could get out into international waters?” Amanda asked with concern.

  I nodded, “Exactly.”

  Grayson chuffed, “That wouldn’t save him, as I said before.”

  “Yeah, but he might not know that,” I said, rubbing my chin thoughtfully, “and he’s also got to know I’m in Miami… so any meeting or delivery would have to be someplace relatively close. A place he could get that center console into and out of fast, and that I could get to relatively fast, too.”

  Everyone fell silent for a long moment before Jackie spoke up again, “Key West, Marco Island or even someplace in the Ten Thousand Islands. Maybe even Flamingo. All of those places are within three hours’ drive.”

  I sat back in my chair and pondered, “We’re assuming Bolivar comes ashore in Tampa or Saint Pete or whatever, then gets into a car and drives to Orlando… seems a waste of time to me, but I suppose he has his reasons. Then he drives back to the Bay, gets on his boat and hauls ass out to sea. Yet maybe not…”

  “What’re you saying?” Turner asked. I had the feeling he was pushing a little.

  “Suppose the boat drops him and then immediately takes off,” I suggested. “Would be a good idea, because if for some reason Bolivar is found out, it’s better if the getaway boat isn’t in the same place. He gets off and drives to O-town, that’s two hours at the very least. Let’s say three from the time he walks into my office. So, assuming forty knots, that fishing boat could buzz down the coast and reach… Sanibel, Useppa… maybe even Marco in that time. Then Bolivar and whoever is driving him runs down I-75 and over to meet the boat a few hours later, by three o’clock at the latest.”

  “Then the yacht, in the meantime,” Grayson picked up. “Heads south at her twenty knots. In that same six or seven hour period, she can be right off the coast of Marco out in deep water.”

  “From there, it’s possible for Bolivar to go anyplace. In that fast fishing boat, he can get to Key West in a couple of hours, or any other key, for that matter. I suppose we’re going to have to wait until he calls.”