‘So where do you think he is?’ asked the Lieutenant. They reached a large metal-sided building with a sign above the door that said LIVE FIRING RANGE and a smaller sign that said HEARING PROTECTION MANDATORY.
‘I don’t know him well enough to hazard a guess even,’ said Standing. ‘He’s obviously lying low. My thought was that if I could at least prove he wasn’t responsible for killing the Russian, he could turn himself in.’
‘If he isn’t the killer, he should do that anyway,’ said Dunnett.
‘That’s what I said to Kaitlyn. But she thinks the cops have Bobby-Ray in their sights and won’t consider any alternatives.’
‘Yeah, that’s the impression I got. They didn’t seem interested in looking for anyone else.’
‘And they know he’s a former SEAL. Which means if they do catch him, it’ll likely be a hard arrest and they’ll go in with guns blazing.’
The Lieutenant nodded. ‘I hear you.’ He rubbed the back of his neck. ‘How about I talk to the guys here that he was close to and get them to talk to you. They might have some thoughts about where he’d hole up.’
‘Sounds like a plan.’
‘There’s an Irish pub on Orange Avenue. McP’s. Owned by a former SEAL, Greg McPartlin. Swing by there this evening and I’ll send the guys to talk to you.’
‘Thanks, Lieutenant.’ Standing saluted and Dunnett returned the salute, but then shook hands with him before turning and entering the firing range. Standing headed back to the guardhouse. He handed in his badge, collected his car and drove off the base and to the El Rancho Motel.
Kaitlyn was watching through the window and opened the door the moment he’d parked the car. ‘How did it go?’ she asked as soon as he reached the door.
‘He’s going to put me in touch with some of Bobby-Ray’s friends here,’ said Standing as he slipped inside the room. ‘The cops have been to the base but didn’t learn anything. The LT I spoke to doesn’t know where Bobby-Ray is but his mates might.’ He lay down on one of the two beds in the room. The television was on but the sound was muted.
‘When can we see them?’
‘Tonight. The LT’ll send them to a place called McP’s.’
She grinned. ‘I know McP’s. I’ve been there with Bobby-Ray.’
‘Where is it?’
‘About a mile away. Can I come?’
‘I don’t see why not.’ He looked at his watch. It was five o’clock. ‘The LT said this evening but didn’t say when exactly. Why don’t we head there now and we can grab something to eat?’
She grinned. ‘You eat a lot, you know that?’
‘It’s an army habit,’ said Standing. ‘You grab food when you can. You never know when you might not be so lucky.’
‘Sure, when you’re in Syria or Afghanistan, but this is the US of A and there’s plenty of food here, twenty-four seven.’
‘Okay, if you’re not hungry, we can get a coffee.’
Her grin widened. ‘No, I can eat,’ she said.
10
McP’s was a single-storey white building with a green turret at the entrance, from which hung a stars and stripes. Across the road from the pub was the Coronado Museum of History and Art. They left the Chevrolet in the car park and walked inside. The décor was that of a typical Irish pub – or at least what Americans thought an Irish pub looked like – with a smattering of Navy SEAL memorabilia, including flags, patches, shields and framed photographs of news reports of major SEAL operations. A U2 song was playing in the background. Like most soldiers, Standing wasn’t a fan of the Irish group.
They went to the bar and picked up a menu. Standing grinned at the Ol’ Dubliner burger – a half-pound burger, corned beef, Swiss cheese, grilled onions, Thousand Island dressing and sauerkraut. He’d visited Dublin several times on undercover operations and had never been offered a burger like that. Kaitlyn ordered a grilled chicken Caesar salad and a Coke and Standing asked for a beer and a shepherd’s pie. The barman gave them their drinks and they headed outside to the patio, where there were circular tables and chairs shielded by large green umbrellas. They sat down at a table overlooking the car park. A group of dog owners were sitting at a table with their pets at their feet. Two German Shepherds, a Rottweiler and a yappy Jack Russell.
Standing was halfway through his beer when a waitress brought out their food, and he was halfway through his shepherd’s pie when Kaitlyn looked over at the entrance to the patio and smiled. ‘I know one of those guys,’ she said, pointing with her knife at three men who had just walked out of the pub holding bottles of beer.
Standing turned to look. They were definitely special forces with super-fit physiques and tans that suggested they weren’t long back from somewhere hot and sunny, and with beards that meant they were probably heading back that way sooner rather than later. They were all wearing cargo pants and tight-fitting polo shirts that showed off their muscles. One of the men spotted Kaitlyn and waved and all three headed over to their table. Kaitlyn got to her feet and rushed to the guy who had waved. He laughed and picked her up and twirled her around.
The tallest of the three walked over to Standing’s table. ‘You Matt?’ he asked. He had a square jaw with a cleft in it and the close-cropped hair that most SEALs favoured. He had a pair of Oakley sunglasses hanging from the neck of his shirt.
Standing nodded and got to his feet. ‘Matt Standing,’ he said, offering his hand.
The man shook, squeezing hard. ‘I’m Fenn,’ he said. ‘Stephen Fenn.’
The SEAL who had grabbed Kaitlyn let her go and he nodded at Standing. ‘This is John McNally,’ said Fenn. He gestured at the third man, who was standing watching them with his hands on his hips. ‘And this is Simon Farrant.’ Farrant’s beard was straggly and unkempt and he had a thick rope-like scar on his right arm. He had a chunky steel TAG Heuer watch on his wrist.
Standing shook hands with McNally and Farrant.
‘They call me Camels,’ said McNally. ‘Because of the cigarettes I smoke, nothing to do with the animal.’ His beard was neatly trimmed and he had a tattoo of a frog’s skeleton on his left arm, a shout-out to the days when the SEALs were known as frogmen. He grinned at Farrant. ‘You never met Bobby-Ray’s sister?’
Farrant shook his head and offered his hand to Kaitlyn. ‘Pleasure,’ he said.
Kaitlyn shook hands with Farrant, and with Fenn. Fenn and McNally pulled over chairs and they all sat down at the table.
‘You guys want to eat?’ asked Standing.
‘We already ordered,’ said Fenn. He waved at their plates. ‘You should eat, our food’ll be a while. So, the LT says you’re a friend of Bobby-Ray’s?’
‘I was embedded with his group in Syria,’ said Standing. He picked up his fork and began to attack his shepherd’s pie again.
‘You’re the Brit he saved, right?’ asked McNally.
Standing nodded. ‘Got between me and an IED.’
‘That’s why he was injured?’ said McNally. He was holding a set of ranger beads, small black beads on a length of paracord, separated into one group of nine and one group of four. The beads were a special forces technique of counting distances, developed long before GPS came along. A soldier worked out how many paces made up a hundred metres. Then he would count off one bead for each hundred metres. When he got to one kilometre he would count off one of the small group. So the beads on the paracord would allow him to accurately count off five kilometres. McNally seemed to be using his like prayer beads, letting them slip through his fingers one by one.
‘Yeah. Took the blast himself,’ said Standing.
‘They’re talking about giving him a medal,’ said Fenn, stretching out his legs.
‘He deserves it,’ said Standing. ‘My Regiment is putting him up for a medal, too, but the powers that be are saying no because he’s a Yank. Bastards.’
‘Bobby-Ray wouldn’t give a damn about a medal,’ said Fenn. ‘Medals mean nothing, we all know that. Just a way of prettying up an officer’s uniform.�
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‘When was the last time you saw him?’ asked Standing.
‘Me? Two months ago. It was here. I came in and he was sitting at the bar. He was with Kurt Konieczny.’
‘Arsehole,’ grunted McNally.
‘You didn’t like Konieczny?’ asked Standing.
‘I think Bobby-Ray was the only one who did,’ said McNally.
‘What was the problem?’ asked Standing.
‘He was a nasty piece of work,’ said Fenn. ‘Wasn’t always that way, to be fair. Three years ago I was with him in Afghanistan and he was as good as gold. But a year or so later he was in a team that was pinned down by an ISIS hit squad in the middle of nowhere. Two of Konieczny’s team were killed, and not in a good way.’
‘How so?’
‘There were two snipers and not a lot of cover. One of his team was out in the open and they kept shooting him in the arms and legs. There was nothing they could do to help him. Took over two hours for him to die. They called in air support and the ISIS unit was killed, but Konieczny was never the same after that.’
‘I guess you can understand why,’ said Standing.
‘Shit happens,’ said Fenn. ‘You deal with it. But he dealt with it by treating every Haji as if they were Johnny Jihad. He’d be on patrol and he’d just take pot shots at the locals. Took every opportunity to get physical. Okay, we know that there’s no way we’re going to be winning hearts and minds out there, but he was intent on causing as much pain as he could. He was spoken to a few times but if anything he got worse, and eventually he was let go.’
‘He was kicked out?’
‘The record shows that he resigned, but yeah, he was given his marching orders.’
‘And he went private?’
Fenn nodded. ‘Joined some Blackwater-type operation, but even they had to keep him out of the Sandpit.’
He looked over at McNally. ‘What was that company called? Redrum?’
‘Redrock,’ said McNally.
Farrant nodded. ‘Yeah, Redrock Solutions or something.’
‘They moved him to personal protection and he said he was doing really well,’ continued Fenn. ‘He used to drop around to McP’s and hand out his business card to the guys, telling them to give him a call.’
‘Arsehole,’ said McNally again.
‘But Bobby-Ray was friends with him?’
McNally nodded. ‘They went through training together. Bobby-Ray always said that if Konieczny hadn’t been there he’d never have made the cut. I thought that was BS but what can you do?’
‘You know the cops are saying that Bobby-Ray shot Kurt?’
‘Can’t see that being right,’ said McNally. ‘I mean, the guy’s an arsehole but he was still a SEAL and once a SEAL always a SEAL. SEALs don’t go around shooting each other.’
The other two men nodded in agreement.
Kaitlyn had been eating her salad in silence, watching their lips carefully so that she could follow their conversation. ‘Do you have any idea where he might have gone?’ she asked. ‘Anyone you can think of who might be hiding him?’
‘Haven’t heard any chatter,’ said Fenn. ‘And I’m pretty sure the cops will have been checking all the obvious places. He hasn’t reached out to you?’
‘Once, just after it happened,’ she said. But he’s off the grid now. He told me he thought the cops were monitoring his phone, so he dumped it.’
‘But at some point he’ll get back in touch?’ said Fenn.
‘I hope so,’ said Kaitlyn.
Fenn took a long drink of beer. ‘This is such a clusterfuck.’
‘Tell me about it,’ said Standing.
‘Anything we can do, just ask,’ said Fenn. McNally and Farrant nodded earnestly.
‘Thanks, guys,’ said Standing. ‘I appreciate that.’ He sipped his beer. ‘So the last time you saw Bobby-Ray, he was okay? He didn’t seem worried about anything?’
‘Seemed happy enough,’ said Fenn. ‘Good salary, health benefits, they were talking about sending him to Iraq.’
‘Iraq?’
‘The company they were working for made its money from government contracts out in Iraq and Afghanistan. A couple of former Blackwater managers left in 2007 when they got caught up in the shitstorm in Baghdad, remember? Fourteen civilians were killed?’ Standing nodded. He remembered the incident. Two years later Blackwater was renamed as Xe Services and two years after that it was acquired by a group of private investors and renamed Academi, still providing services to the US Federal Government and the CIA. ‘The managers were involved on the periphery, they weren’t charged but Blackwater let them go. They got a big payoff and they used the money to set up Redrock. They’ve got two thousand or so employees and about fifty are ex-SEALs or former Delta.’
‘And most of Bobby-Ray’s work was close protection?’
Fenn nodded. ‘That’s what he said. But they were talking about him heading up their Iraq bodyguarding division.’ He tilted his head on one side. ‘You know, thinking about it, that did seem to put Kurt’s back up.’
McNally nodded. ‘Yeah, I picked up on that,’ he said. ‘Like he was jealous.’
‘The Iraq job was a promotion?’ asked Standing.
‘That’s how I read it,’ said Fenn.
Standing sipped his drink. ‘It doesn’t make any sense, does it? They worked together, they were friends, and yet the cops are sure that Bobby-Ray killed him.’ He shrugged. ‘So if it wasn’t Bobby-Ray, who could have done it?’
‘The cops told you what went down, right?’
‘I haven’t spoken to them,’ said Standing.
‘The way we understand it, they were at the Russian’s house getting ready to stand down for the night and Bobby-Ray went in and started shooting. Shot the client, shot Kurt, and shot two of the Russian bodyguards.’ Fenn scowled. ‘If the mission was to kill the client, it was one hell of a messy way of doing it,’ he said. ‘He could have just waited until he was alone with the client and popped him. Or done it in the car. If Bobby-Ray was following protocol he would have been in the front passenger seat. He could have just turned around in his seat and shot the guy in the heart. Bang bang, dead as a doornail. Instead he goes all gunfight at the O.K. Corral, almost as if it was a spur of the moment thing.’
‘Is that possible?’ asked Standing. ‘He just went crazy?’
Fenn laughed harshly. ‘Come on, man. You know Bobby-Ray. He’s a rock solid operator. Cool as a cucumber no matter what you throw at him. He wasn’t happy at having to leave the SEALs but he was doing okay and earning good money. No way would he lose it in the way they’re saying he did.’ He frowned at Standing. ‘Are you thinking he did it?’
Standing shook his head. ‘I don’t know what to think,’ he said. ‘But he told Kaitlyn he didn’t, and so far as I know he’s still in LA. If he had done it he’d have had his exit strategy in place and be well away by now. But if it wasn’t Bobby-Ray, then who? And why is everyone so keen to blame him for the shootings?’
The three SEALs shrugged but no one had an answer. ‘Who was Kurt’s boss at Redrock?’ asked Standing.
‘A guy called John Keenan,’ said Fenn. ‘Another former SEAL but he’s been out fifteen years or more. He was with Blackwater in Iraq back in the early days when it was the Wild West and security guards were picking up a thousand dollars a day.’
Standing nodded slowly but his mind was racing. John Keenan was the grey-haired man sitting in the front of the SUV that he had pushed off the road. So the men tailing him had definitely been from Redrock. But why were they trying to kill him and Kaitlyn?
‘I never met Keenan, before my time, but he was very highly regarded,’ said Fenn. ‘He was in Bosnia in 1999 helping to track down war criminals, then he was in Afghanistan during Operation Enduring Freedom as part of Task Force Sword. You ever hear of that?’
Standing shook his head.
‘It was a US special forces initiative, basically a black ops unit working directly to Joint Special Operations
Command. They were tasked with hunting and killing senior leaders of al-Qaeda and the Taliban. Word is that Keenan had half a dozen confirmed kills on that operation.’
‘Why did he leave the SEALs?’ asked Standing.
‘He was wounded in 2002,’ said Fenn. ‘He was part of a SEAL team protecting President Karzai and he took a bullet during an assassination attempt. Left not long after but he was snapped up by Blackwater. You’re thinking about maybe talking to him?’
‘I doubt that Bobby-Ray has been checking in with his employer, not with the cops after him for killing a client. He’s more likely to reach out to his family or friends.’
‘He hasn’t spoken to any of us,’ said Fenn. He looked at his colleagues and they both nodded in agreement.
They seemed to be telling the truth, and that worried Standing because if Bobby-Ray was in trouble, the obvious people to ask for help were his former SEAL colleagues. Once a SEAL always a SEAL was a mantra he’d heard time and time again when he was embedded with them. But Bobby-Ray hadn’t reached out to them, he’d gone to Standing, more than five thousand miles away. There had to be a reason for that.
‘He had a girlfriend, right?’ said Fenn, looking at Kaitlyn.
Kaitlyn nodded. ‘Lucky. We’ve spoken to her. She doesn’t know where he is.’
A waitress carried over three burgers for the SEALs. She clearly knew them all and said their names as she placed their food in front of them.
‘So what’s your plan, Matt?’ asked Fenn as he picked up his burger with both hands. McNally was already chewing on his.
Standing shrugged. ‘I’m not sure. Bobby-Ray asked me for my help, but now he’s gone to ground and seems to be avoiding me.’
‘I don’t understand that,’ said Fenn. ‘You come all the way here to help, why doesn’t he get in touch?’
Last Man Standing Page 9
