What Lies Beneath: A Florida Action Adventure Novel (Scott Jarvis Private Investigator Book 10)

by Scott Cook

  “Nice and steady now, Senator,” I said in my British accent.

  “What the hell is this?” Thorne asked angrily.

  As we watched, Jackie pressed her knockout pen to the back of Thorne’s security man’s neck. The device used high pressure air to inject a cocktail of pentobarbital and sumatriptan by pressuring it past the upper epidermal layers. Capillary absorption does the rest and unconsciousness is almost instantaneous.

  With the second guard down, we gathered around the senator and ushered him out of the building and toward his own car.

  “You people won’t get away with this,” Thorne warned as we piled into the limo. Hightower drove and Jackie got in the front seat with him. Turner and I climbed into the passenger area with our target.

  “We already have, Senator,” Turner said.

  Thorne looked at me, “You’re not a sub jockey, are you?”

  “I’m not even British,” I said with a grin. “And my name isn’t Alan Lewrie, sir. It’s Lieutenant Commander Scott Jarvis. This is Commander Brian Turner, our team leader.”

  “Commanders?” Thorne asked in mild confusion. “You’re Navy then?”

  “Yes, and we’re also with ICE,” Turner said. “Colonel Grayson sends his regards.”

  Thorne’s scowl slowly evaporated and became a smile, “That wily son of a bitch… this is a demonstration, then?”

  “Yes sir,” Turner said.

  “My guys?” Thorne inquired, jerking his head toward the back window.

  “They’ll be fine,” I replied. “Just taking a little nap. Base security will take care of them.”

  “So what happens now?” Thorne asked. “Do we suit up and swim out to meet your submarine, Commander Lewrie? Why does that name sound familiar…”

  Turner chuckled and I grinned, “Ever read any historical fiction? Dewey Lambdin? He writes a series not unlike O’Brian or Forrester.”

  “I’ll be damned…” Thorne muttered with a head shake.

  “Actually, we’re going to head back to the party,” Turner said. “It’s only twelve thirty, after all. Night’s young.”

  “Colonel Grayson is already there,” I informed the Senator. “He’ll explain more when he sees you. We’re just the muscle.”

  Thorne chuckled, “And fine muscle you are. What did you say your name was, Commander…? Jarvis? Scott Jarvis? Hmm… that name seems familiar to me, too…”

  Jackie laughed from the front seat, “He’s the world-famous private eye novelist, sir.”

  Thorne met my gaze, “That Scott Jarvis? I’ll be goddamned! I’m familiar with your work, son.”

  Turner treated me to a wry smirk, “So much for anonymity.”

  I shrugged and smiled, “It’s good to beda King.”

  19

  From the secret doins’ of Lisa the Fabulous

  Lisa’s Journal Entry 6

  Thanks to the excitement of Thursday night… or I guess Friday morning, Sharon was given a few days off. This sort of pissed her off, naturally, as she was all fired up to investigate why Big Daddy what’s his ass sent a couple of goons to her house. I couldn’t blame her.

  After Scott left just after lunch on Friday, I was feeling lonely. I played with Rocky and Morgan for a while and then went downtown to the office. I spent a little time there recording my thoughts and what Scott and I had talked about. Since no calls came in and nobody sauntered in with a new case, I decided that I needed to do something proactive.

  Juan had taken the day off as well and he and Sharon were spending it together. So rather than go over there and be the third wheel, I drove to Maitland to see if Virginia Chandler was available. Although we weren’t working on an active case for her, our other case had certainly infringed upon her life. I felt I should get her up to speed.

  On the way I phoned Mr. Palermo and filled him in on what had happened the day before. He was surprised yet relieved when I told him that we felt that there shouldn’t be any more disturbances at Serenity Hill. He also said he’d follow Scott’s recommendation about hiring more security, at least for the time being. He did ask us to stay on the case for a little while longer just to be sure.

  Although Virginia was busy when I arrived, she cleared a few minutes in her schedule for me. It’s amazing what doors personal magnetism, dazzling wit and a growing friendship can open.

  “Where’s Scott today?” Virginia asked after her secretary led me into her office.

  “Over on the east coast,” I said vaguely. I wasn’t sure how secretive Scott wanted to be about his… other life? “So I’m at the helm this weekend.”

  Virginia chuckled, “Can I get you anything?”

  I sat in one of her very comfy client chairs, “No thanks.”

  “So what brings you here today?”

  “I’ve got some news about your property development site,” I began. I opened a manila folder and took out a stack of printed photos taken from Scott’s and my night vision monocular. “Take a look at these. I don’t suppose you recognize either of these dudes?”

  A crease of consternation appeared between Virginia’s finely-arched brows. She shuffled through the half dozen letter-sized printouts and then handed them back with a sigh, “No clue. What were they doing there?”

  “Planting this,” I replied, showing her another photo of the piece of pottery we’d excavated. “They showed up in a canoe, dug a hole and buried that thing. I haven’t verified it yet, but I think it’s a Calusa artifact. I’m going to try and find out tomorrow.”

  Virginia sat back in her Queen of the Universe executive chair and bit her lower lip. She started to swivel a little too. I grinned.

  “So somebody is trying to reinforce the idea that I’ve got a genuine Calusa site on this property… even though we’re far north and inland of where they are generally known to have lived,” Virginia said thoughtfully.

  “That’s Scott’s idea,” I explained. “As he told it to me, your competitor stole information about the site and other things and he said you thought that they could try and use this to delay construction.”

  She nodded, “Yes… and if somebody had shown up and started poking around and found this intact jar… it would probably have delayed me for years… damn, you guys have really saved my bacon on this. Thank goodness the two of you are Johnny on the spot, huh?”

  I chuffed, “We got lucky. The question is… who’s behind this? Is it possible your competitor…?”

  “Graham Construction,” Virginia supplied. “A custom home builder but they also do some commercial stuff. Business centers, strip malls and industrial parks. The house thing is somewhat new for them.”

  “You think they hired these two goons?”

  Virginia spread her hands, “I have no idea. I was hoping you could tell me.”

  I drummed my fingers on the arm of the chair, “Well… the weird thing is that Scott and I are working for another client. While I was at the library yesterday researching some things, the one guy, the skinhead looking guy, shows up and starts warning me off and making threats. Then we got into a little… scuffle.”

  Virginia’s eyes went wide, “You fought the guy!?”

  I smiled, “I didn’t have much choice. I persuaded him to vacate the building… but it’s kind of weird. I was there researching the names of three graves that had been robbed at our client’s cemetery… out in Davenport.”

  “Hmmm… how far from my place?”

  “Five or six miles, as the crow flies,” I said. “It’s out on Ronald Reagan, kind of between Intercession City and Old Lake Wilson Road.”

  “Oh, Serenity Hills or something, right?” She asked. “I was looking at land out there too, but there’s a lot of wetland to deal with. Need a lot of fill and surveys… plus the property I bought was already started… hmm… that’s funny…”

  I waited to see what was funny.

  “You know, part of my research for a place to buy was aerial,” Virginia finally explained. “Like old Walt did when searching for a sp
ot to build his resort… anyway, I flew over the area in a chopper a couple of times. Kind of get a bird’s-eye view of the land, the roads, you know? Compare that to a map in my mind and with photos to choose a solid location. Anyway, if you draw a line straight from my property to that cemetery, you could pretty much take a kayak or canoe the entire way, with maybe having to get out and walk once. Isn’t that interesting?”

  “Yeah… but what it might mean I don’t know,” I admitted.

  “Well, keep looking,” Virginia said. “I’m happy to fund your further investigation. Jesus… you guys probably saved me millions by getting that jug or whatever out of the ground!”

  I pondered the picture of the small jar for a long time and then looked up at her, “This Graham Construction group… are they connected to anyone? I mean would they have some political backers or mob ties or be plugged into the drug trade or something?”

  Virginia laughed, “Not that I know of. The fact that they paid Ted Blake and that Arnie Graham used his own wife to seduce him to steal from me makes me think they’re not connected at all. Like they’re grasping at straws.”

  I frowned, “Yeah… maybe… but they just can’t send in a research team from UCF or whatever, right? I mean, your development is private property and it’d take more than their word to halt construction, right?”

  She sighed and started to swivel again. I thought of Scott, “No… but if they had documentation of something out there, they could maybe take it to somebody… and that somebody could use a political connection. Maybe bribe a Polk County official and force me to address the issue more closely. That’s what Scott and I thought.”

  I suddenly needed to stand and pace. The more we investigated this thing, the more complex it got. The more we dug, the more questions popped up.

  “What is it?” Virginia asked. “You look frustrated.”

  I scoffed, “It’s just… there’s all these weird occurrences and seemingly random events… but they can’t be! Scott doesn’t believe in coincidences.”

  “I know.”

  “Yeah… and like…. There are a shit ton of them,” I cranked. “I don’t believe in coincidences, either. Somehow your thing is connected to the grave robberies.”

  “Doesn’t have to be,” Virginia offered. “Just delaying my development project for a year could screw me over big time. That’s all Graham would need to get his hands on the EcoLife tech as well as get a leg up on me in business.”

  I snorted, “Yeah, but so what? There’s plenty of need for new housing. So he slows you down and gets the same tech you’re gonna use, so what? What, there’s only a demand for a couple of hundred green tech houses in 2021? No… no… I don’t buy it. Besides… I can make a phone call that would cock block this Graham guy if you want me to.”

  She laughed, “What? You can get ahold of your old… uhm…. boss at EcoLife?”

  A tingly heat bloomed along my neck and into my face, “Ahem… not Miles. Andrea, his ex-wife. She and I still have a pretty good relationship. I’m sure she’d cut this Graham guy off at the knees if I ask her to, not to mention extend your exclusive deal.”

  “Yeah, but Graham doesn’t know that,” She pointed out.

  “Okay, fair enough… but my point is that my guts are telling me that something more is behind this,” I countered, taking my seat again. “Somebody is behind this shit and it’s not just to screw with your building project or to randomly dig up a couple of stiffs. Something lies below the surface here, and it’s got something to do with the Calusa or Everglades culture or… something. So my question remains. Who does Graham know?”

  Virginia pondered that for a long minute. Finally she blew out her breath, “Honestly, I don’t know. Or at least I couldn’t say who could benefit from this. We know a lot of the same people… I know he’s bragged more than once about knowing Johnathan Bartlett. But Bartlett is known as a pretty honest guy. He couldn’t be involved in something like this.”

  I sat forward, “Bartlett?”

  “Yeah… why?”

  “Did you ever read Scott’s books?”

  “A couple… read the first one, about him going from a cop to a P.I.,” Virginia stated. “Read the third one. Lionel Argus and Trish insisted, since it’s about them… yeah, I know them too… why?”

  I shrugged, “Bartlett features prominently in book two… the story that partly deals with how Scott and I met. Anyway, long story short, he set up a sting to expose his wife and a rival real estate company. Four people were killed because of it. I’m not saying Bartlett is bad, just that he’s certainly not as clean as he’d probably like everyone to believe.”

  “Well… damn, I’ll have to read them all,” Virginia said. She smiled apologetically and a little sheepishly I thought. “But I don’t know how to answer your question, Lisa. I guess that’s one thing your investigation will have to uncover.”

  The next stop, after scooping Sharon up on Saturday morning… not too early… was at the Randell Research Center in Pineland, a small town on Pine Island, one of Southwest Florida’s more prominent islands. For one thing, Pine Island is the largest island in the state, and unlike the barrier islands, it’s made of the same coral rock as the surrounding mainland.

  Although largely zoned for agriculture, Pine Island does have four main communities, one of which is Pineland on the northern end of the island. This is the site of the research center, built on a large, preserved area of land that was once a Calusa village that stood in the area for over fifteen hundred years. Today, tourists and archeologists alike kayak and walk the area, visit the ruins and marvel at the remnants of the Grand Canal. This canal, which was built by the Calusa sometime before the fall of Rome, stretched all the way across the island, a journey of more than six miles. It’s a very impressive park, and I wished that Scott and I could go there just for fun, rather than for work sometime.

  Aside from the small museum and bookstore of the Randell Research Center’s main building, the Museum of Florida, the operator of the center, maintained several offices and labs there as well. It was into one of these that Sharon and I were led at a little before two.

  A slightly built man with jet black hair wearing gold rimmed eyeglasses greeted us from his seat at a workbench. His small but nimble hands were working to remove debris from a large artifact of some kind.

  He smiled at us, his features indicating a Southeast Asian origin. He waved us into a pair of stools across the table from him.

  “Good morning, I’m Doctor John Pak,” he said in a friendly tone laced with just a hint of a southern accent. “Please have a seat and bear with me a moment…”

  “Thank you for taking the time to speak to us, Doctor Pak,” I said, sitting beside Sharon and watching Pak intently.

  He seemed awfully young to be a Ph.D. If I had to guess, I’d say he was no older than me. His smooth skin and cheerful disposition gave him something of the air of a grad student.

  “Whatcha got there, Doc?” Sharon inquired.

  “Oh, a very interesting piece,” Pak enthused. “If I’m not mistaken… and once I get these barnacles removed I’ll know for sure… it’s the blade and part of the loom of a paddle. It was found in the Grand Canal and I think its lignum vitae. Extraordinary, because it would’ve taken a great deal of work to shape this wood without metal tools… I hope to find more relevant artifacts in the area to add some context. So… what can I do for you ladies today?”

  “Well… we’ve got something to show you, Doctor Pak,” I said, hefting a cloth shopping bag up onto the workbench. “I’d like you to take a look at this and tell me what you think.”

  I removed the jar Scott and I unearthed from a bit of protective cloth and set it on the table within Pak’s reach.

  His eyes grew wide and his mouth dropped open a bit, “My God… where did you get this?”

  “Is it Calusa?” Sharon asked.

  Pak picked up the jar, turned it around in his hands and then carefully removed the lid. After peering i
nside for a long moment, he looked up at me, “Offhand I’d say yes. Possibly as much as a thousand years old. Where did you find this?”“That’s… a bit of a story,” I evaded slightly. “I can say that it was found in Orlando… well, Davenport to be precise.”

  Pak set the artifact down and tapped it with a finger for a few seconds before removing his glasses and meeting my eye, “How long ago was this found? I’m going to need more information, Ms…”

  “Lisa,” I said. “Please call me Lisa. This is Sharon.”

  “Very well, Lisa,” Pak said, his good humor seeming to steadily decrease. “May I take a photo?”

  “Sure.”

  Pak withdrew a cell phone, snapped off several shots of the artifact and then seemed to text them to someone. He set the phone down on the table and sighed, eyeing us suspiciously I thought.

  “What is it, Doctor Pak?” I asked.

  “How long ago did you say you found this?” I didn’t like the way he emphasized the word found. Sharon and I exchanged a glance.

  “She and her partner found it Thursday evening,” Sharon stated. She then leaned in, her tone becoming stern as well. “Why do you ask, Doc?”

  Pak’s answer was interrupted by a ding from his phone. He glanced at it, scowled and then set it down again, “This artifact… was stolen from this very facility four nights ago.”

  “Really…” I breathed.

  Pak was all business now, “I’m going to have to insist that you give me the details, ladies. The theft of such an artifact is considered a felony. You could be looking at some very serious charges.”

  “You think we stole it?” Sharon asked indignantly, “And then are rash enough to bring it right back to the very scene of the crime a few days later? Do we look that stupid, Doctor?”

  He shrugged, “You don’t look like a pair of thieves, it’s true. Perhaps you intend to ask us to pay for this? A ransom of sorts? Well, I can assure you that— “

  “Doctor Pak,” I said sternly. “I’m a licensed private investigator from Orlando. Ms. Nolen here is a Lieutenant with the Orlando Police Department. We are not thieves. As a matter of fact… my partner, also a licensed investigator and former police officer, intercepted those who may have been the thieves. They deliberately buried this jar on a piece of property that was already suspected to contain a Calusa site. We retrieved the object and Sharon and I have brought it here today in the hopes that you could shed some light on things.”