by Frank Perry
invited him to his office. “Have a seat Peter. That was some operation you executed. With the validation of Sheik Qatada and support of Director Lawrence, I am recommending you for the Distinguished Service Cross. I know you don’t do things for glory and the citation will be sealed, but you have clearly met the definition of extreme gallantry and risk of life.”
“Thank you, sir, I felt it was my duty to do this.”
“I’m sure you did, but it was truly an exceptional feat. It’s one thing to volunteer for a dangerous assignment, but it’s entirely another thing to carry it out with such success and no political fallout. Peter, you could write your own ticket on this, which you’ve heard before. Let me know if there’s anything I can do for you. You have a brilliant career ahead, no matter where it takes you.”
The General could see that Peter was getting tired, so he ended the dialogue and stood to shake Peter’s hand. After departing, Peter walked to Rachael’s office where she was busy at her desk, trying to look engaged. He sensed that she was just marking time waiting to take him home.
Somewhere on the drive along the parkway she said, “Sweetheart, I’ve found a nice little private B&B on the shore and made plans for us to go there as soon as you’re well enough for a long weekend. It’s the perfect place for you to propose to me.”
He smiled and continued staring ahead, with her words still resonating. He was overjoyed that she would marry him, when she could have the pick of any guy in Washington, yet she was telling him that she wanted to marry him, a soldier from the back country with limited skills and so few social qualities.
He stammered as she looked out of the corner of her eye, “Ah, fine. It sounds like a great time!”
He was wondering where he would be able to get a ring on short notice.
Burton Jennings
Will Lawrence left the meeting at General Simmons’ office feeling content. Major Shields had not learned anything about Ali’s personal life. He still had concerns about Rachael Aston’s investigation, and she would probably talk to Peter about it. But, for now, she was concentrating on Shields’ recovery.
Returning to his townhouse in Reston that night, he was relaxed and planning to be on a vacation plane in the morning. Other worries would all dissolve in the Cayman Islands. Ali, Frank Saberi, had made all the arrangements online. As a recognized senior CIA official, Lawrence could not travel internationally using his true identity. For the trip to the Caymans, he would use a fake passport and credit cards under the name Burton Jennings. Since he was the designated “handler” of Frank Saberi’s file, no one would know that an important former Minister of Iran, under U.S. protection, was away on vacation. Ali’s appearance had changed enough that he wouldn’t be recognized. He was starting to lose weight, and no one had seen him without a beard in thirty years.
The next morning, Burton Jennings took a taxi to Reagan National Airport for a U.S. Airways flight to Maimi. From there, he would transfer to Delta for the trip to Grand Cayman Island, four hundred miles south. Flying first class all the way, he had unlimited free drinks and enjoyed three Bloody Mary’s en route to Florida. Aboard Delta, he was drinking scotch whiskey. Upon arrival at Grand Cayman’s Owen Roberts International Airport, just before four o’clock in the afternoon, he was feeling woozy. “Burt” cleared customs and immigration then took a taxi to the luxurious Grand Cayman hotel, awaiting word from his friend. Without unpacking or even removing his shoes, he opened the door to his third-floor veranda, and fell onto the bed, asleep. Ali, Frank, was scheduled to land around six thirty, so Burt was able to sleep for a couple hours.
At seven thirty that night, the phone on the bed stand rang, interrupting his slumber. He was still groggy when he said, “Hello.”
“Will, it’s me -- Frank, I made it!”
“Oh, Frank, that’s great my friend. Are you settled yet?”
“I just got into my room and need to hang some things. Let’s meet for dinner in the lobby at eight, then we can begin our adventure.”
“Great. Okay, I’ll be there at eight. This is a great hotel!”
At eight o’clock, they met downstairs and decided to walk along the beach to one of the open-air beach bars that served food & drinks, and people could dance all night long. The air was warm with a mild breeze. Somewhere, blossoms were releasing a fragrance and there was a mild sea mist when they walked near the breakers. It was almost two in the morning before they stumbled arm in arm, back to the hotel. They laughed as they strolled under the quarter moonlight with crashing waves providing background music. The men were rekindling a friendship shared decades earlier in college. Neither was gay, yet they showed some of the intimacy and mannerisms of a courting couple, common among Middle-Eastern men. Lawrence knew it was Middle Eastern tradition for men to show affection without implying a sexual relationship. At the hotel, they made plans for breakfast at nine o’clock.
The following morning, breakfast was a leisurely buffet beside the gigantic outdoor swimming pool. Lawrence enjoyed hardboiled eggs and fruit, while Frank opted for pickled herring, tomato salad and flatbread. Afterward, they took a taxi to the Bank Niaga Grand Cayman to begin the process of moving money into individual numbered accounts. After establishing separate accounts, they were told by the bank president that it would take several hours to complete the procedures and that they should enjoy the island until then. It was a complex process when establishing separate accounts to partition one billion, three hundred million dollars, minus reimbursements to the Iranian government.
Frank had made all the preliminary arrangements by phone and email, but the final process of verifications would take several more hours. In the meantime, the bank had arranged for a scuba diving outing for the men based on Frank’s suggestion. The day would be spent enjoying a casual dive on one of the deep-water shipwrecks off the eastern coast. The dive boat was waiting for them at a nearby marina with all the equipment and food aboard. A bank limousine would drive them to the boat and meet them when they returned. It was promised to be a wonderful excursion. Ali was an avid diver in the Arabian Sea. Will had enjoyed scuba diving before college, but had not been under water since then.
On the way to the marina, Lawrence and Ali both felt uncontrollable glee with the vast fortune they would soon split. Their scheme to blackmail the airlines and government had worked flawlessly. Their investment had been minimal compared to the return they were both receiving. Two boys from Berkeley had proven how smart they were.
Grand Cayman Island Marina was only a few minutes from the bank. Frank took a note from his pocket and instructed the driver to take them to pier E where their dive boat, the Sunset Breeze, was waiting. It was a twenty-five foot long open dive boat with a small cabin and galley. When they left the car, Frank asked the driver to be back around three thirty in the afternoon. The driver assured him that he would be there for them. With that, they meandered down the gangplank onto the boat.
“Ah, Will, this is going to be wonderful. We have the boat to ourselves.”
Lawrence responded, “Well, old friend, this should be a real adventure. I love to dive, but I’m not in the shape I was last time thirty years ago.”
“Do not worry my friend, I think we shall be in no hurry today. Take all the time needed to be comfortable. I had them bring only the best equipment. Did I tell you that we are diving on the cruise ship “Obsession” in shallow water? It is rumored to be full of unclaimed treasure! It sank fifty years ago and has not been thoroughly salvaged. We might find someone’s family jewels left behind!”
The cruise to the site took almost an hour with the twin Mercury outboards throttled wide open. About halfway to the dive site, the “captain” suggested that the divers begin fitting equipment. He was otherwise silent and Lawrence could not place his origin. He was dark with a beard, like most of the natives on the island, but his accent seemed different. As they approached the site, the Captain began circling, using sonar to pinpoint the ship. Although the water was crystal clear, they could not
see the bottom. As they circled, both men finished donning their gear, helping each other with the air tanks. The Captain explained that it was too deep to anchor, and he would maintain position by navigating in small circles around the stricken ship. Lawrence felt a little uneasy so far from shore with the boat untethered, but Frank remained calm. He was given a bag of tools to use on ship hatches and doors.
Stepping off the open swim door on the side, it took several seconds for the air to escape from their wetsuits. Once purged, the suits filled with water and the temperature neutralized. It was always an eerie feeling to Lawrence breathing cool dry air under water, but exhilarating at the same time.
Both divers were facing each other while getting oriented. Then Ali pointed downward, doing a clumsy jackknife. As they descended, their ears could feel pressure and were “popping” every few seconds. According to the chart on deck, the ship’s main structure would be about sixty feet below. It was deeper than most pleasure divers liked to go, but they were not planning to go all the way to the bottom. They would just cruise around the upper structure.
About twenty feet down, Lawrence could see a dark form below them. An eerie feeling crept over him again and he was about to signal
