Burn Notice: A Key West Thriller (Kelly Maclean Book 2)

by Nate Hawk

She had called her boss that oversaw the operation where Megan lived and worked in Boston. There were other nurses and doctors that had filled in since she was gone. Her Agency contact was relieved to hear that she was fine and had just taken a few days. Then the relief had turned to disappointment when Megan’s boss understood that she was taking an open-ended leave of absence. There had been a few brief moments of attempted persuasion but it quickly became clear that Megan had made up her mind. You’ve met somebody! That’s great! Good for you, you deserve it… Let’s stay in touch and you just keep me updated with what you are thinking… Key West, huh?... Well, there’s a small naval facility with a hospital on the island there where you could work if you ever… Yeah, OK. You take care down there Megan…

  ***

  Kelly’s car had shimmied the whole way to Miami much to the annoyance of Owen. In fact, Owen had been quite vocal about the deplorable condition that Kelly’s once nice car was currently in. Both men had wondered if it would even make the trip to Miami and back.

  “If we’re going to work together, there’s gonna be some things that are going to change,” Owen had said. “We’re not just going to let maintenance go on machines or on us. We’re gonna keep the operation well oiled and we are gonna pull things back together, if you know what I’m say’n Marine… This shit isn’t gonna fly,” Owen said as his teeth continued rattling from all of the vibrations and he suddenly heard a new noise.

  About a hundred miles out of Key West, the exhaust shook loose somewhere in front of the muffler. In addition to the roar that was now constantly present, part of the pipe itself was dragging on the road. Kelly’s once beautiful and somewhat expensive car sounded like a broken down Nascar as it continued moving south, hopping island to island.

  “We should have had Swanson throw in some of his famous ball bearings for this thing!” Owen laughed dryly.

  Kelly looked towards him in partial amusement. He probably would have been laughing too if it had been someone else’s car or someone else’s life for that matter.

  “You know Kelly, seven mile bridge is coming up. If this piece of shit breaks down in the middle of it we’re fucked, man.”

  Kelly laughed, “You know, at this point I’d probably just leave the damn car where it was. It reminds me of my past anyways. I think it’s time for something new.”

  No argument from me there! Owen mumbled to himself. He didn’t want Kelly thinking about the demons from his past. Kelly had finally begun to get his head out of his ass the last few days. If Kelly quit grooming himself and got into some kind of a depressed stupor again it would make the challenging aspect of working together much more difficult. As they passed over Whale Harbor Bridge at mile marker 84, the car began shaking worse and Kelly knew he’d have to pull over. Owen was former Delta Force and although his toughness was never questioned, his patience now was.

  “Kelly, your tires don’t have any tread on them!” Owen yelled. “Damn it man! You ran them bald right down to the belts!”

  Kelly looked at Owen and shrugged. He thought he had a spare. He dug around through the rear of the car and tugged up on the floorboard of the trunk. There was a tire there and a can of fix a flat. Kelly began to reach for the bottle of mysterious green substance when Owen said something prophetic that would stick with Kelly for some time.

  “You’ve got two choices here Kelly,” Owen said. “You can keep doing just enough to scrape by,” he said as he pointed towards the fix-a-flat. “Or we start doing things the right way, the first time out of the gates.”

  Kelly eyed his two options. One was symbolic of his past indifference and the other was a fresh start. Kelly wasn’t lazy but he was initially tempted to try the fix a flat so he could quickly drive the remaining 84 miles back to Key West. He admitted that it probably wouldn’t hold up anyway though as he eyed the full size spare tire. The unused tire even smelled good. How could he consider reducing himself to his former indifference?

  “Yes, you’re right Owen. It’s clear I’ve got some things to straighten up. But don’t hate on the Fix-a-flat… we may still need it for one of these other tires before we get back!”

  Owen didn’t laugh. “Don’t get me started!” he said dryly. “Grab the tire and jack and let’s do this thing.”

  “I sure hope there’s a lug wrench in here somewhere,” Kelly said half-jokingly as he dug deeper into the trunk. “Besides, what do you care?” he said to his black friend, “You get to work on your sun tan while I’m wrestling with this car!”

  ***

  “Sir, here it is!” Riley said as he returned to Congressman Swanson’s office with a large protective case holding his painting.

  “Well by God let’s open this thing up!”

  It took the two men a few moments to unbuckle the lid from the padded case. Then they raised the top half of the case from the bottom half and set it aside. Both men looked at the painting in admiration.

  “Just as described,” Swanson reported. “It’s in good shape but lacking the frame. You can even see a small amount of wear here where the frame pressed against it for so long.”

  Riley, the smarter and more observant of the two stared at it for a couple of more moments before he gave his own assessment. He thought something was different but he couldn’t be sure.

  “Sir, does the color seem a bit off to you?”

  “Maybe,” Swanson said as he thought about it. “Probably because those thieving Neanderthals have been driving around with it stowed in a hot and humid vehicle for who-knows-how-long.” Swanson thought some more about what he had said and continued. “Kind of adds to the story of the plight of the painting though doesn’t it? For the last five hundred years murders and thieves have sought this painting. The death and destruction that has interlocked itself with this painting is unfathomable. Just like the Phoenix that rises from its own ashes, here is the painting in living color. And,” he added. “just like the Phoenix, I’m the unbeatable son-of-a-bitch who owns this fine piece of history!”

  Riley wasn’t sure. He couldn’t shake the thought that something seemed a bit off. “Maybe it’s the lighting in here,” he admitted. “Sir, as long as you’re pleased I’m pleased.”

  “You’re Goddamn right I’m pleased, Riley! My painting has just returned to its rightful owner, which brings my net worth back up where it should be. That Deep Throat son-of-a-bitch got exactly what he had coming. The couple of people that share my secret are a couple of bumpkins that were shooed away with the promise of working on a government contract. I got this beautiful piece of artwork back and it didn’t cost me a dime!”

  “Are you really planning to work on helping those men acquire a Homeland Security contract through Campbell’s office?”

  “Well, bumpkins or not, those two know too much to piss them off, now don’t they? Honestly, I’d like to tell them to shove off or maybe make a call to an organized crime contact or two. But, Kelly and Owen have proven quite talented and there’s too much potential to come up with a losing hand if I go up against them. No, instead we’ll just stick to the plan.”

  Riley was relieved. Swanson was unpredictable and at times allowed his ego to get in the way of making sound decisions. Playing it safe was definitely Riley’s preferred method of moving forward too.

  “Good play sir,” Riley said meekly.

  ***

  Chapter 28

  The front of the white Magnum lurched almost comically under normal acceleration conditions. Something with the suspension had snapped and stopped working properly about twenty miles out from Key West. The front end of the car seemed to rise and fall like a buoy with the waves. When Kelly touched the brakes the nose of the vehicle would then sink as parts of the machine scraped and dragged on the ground. The exhaust roar could be heard for a mile as it approached and the steering wheel was shaking like an old washing machine stuck on the spin cycle.

  “If we survive this trip then I’m never riding in this car again,” Owen said. “This is the definition of a deat
h trap!”

  “You don’t even have a car anymore!” Kelly countered. “What are you going to do Owen Bar, walk? No car… No job… A promise from a politician… A new identity and ten grand to your name…”

  “Maybe we’re both in a better position than we seem. I haven’t run out of surprises yet. Perhaps I’ll get a bicycle to poke around with on this sleepy island.”

  The car crossed over the bridge from Stock Island to Key West and the two men turned right onto North Roosevelt Boulevard. The shaking coming from his steering wheel immediately ceased, as did Kelly’s ability to steer. The car pulled hard to the right but at the slow speeds was no real danger. Kelly hit the brakes a little too hard and the car smashed on the pavement into a loud right-veering scrape. The vehicle had enough momentum to propel itself past a line of palm trees and into a parking lot. The Magnum came to a stop at an awkward angle as the two men climbed out to see what had happened.

  “Tie rod end? Ball joint? What the hell happened?”

  “You’re asking me?” Kelly asked sarcastically. “I lost steering completely…”

  “Hey!” an elderly Floridian yelled as he attempted to motor past the awkwardly parked vehicle. “You just gonna park that heap there or what?”

  Kelly shrugged his shoulders. He wasn’t in the mood for an explanation.

  “That’s the problem. Kids got no respect these days… act’n like they own the place! Geez!” the old guy continued as he pulled his car onto North Roosevelt Boulevard.

  Kelly and Owen just ignored the man. He was gone and forgotten quick enough. A cool evening breeze blew through, cooling a frustrated Kelly off. The breeze didn’t have the same calming effect for Owen. He kicked the car’s quarter panel and released a string of useless profanity.

  “Don’t sweat it man! We are gonna need a truck for the business anyways. Plus, we can still use Deluca’s and Franco’s cars until we work out the logistics on some new transportation. Just grab your stuff out of the car and we’ll figure out a way to get over to the import building.”

  Kelly slid the short-barreled rifle into a black nylon bag and slung it over his shoulder. Owen untucked his shirt and stuffed the big chrome revolver in his belt. They abandoned the car in the small parking lot walking north and then west around Roosevelt.

  “That’s some luck,” Kelly said.

  Owen looked towards Kelly spitefully. “What ever that was back there,” Owen pointed, “wasn’t luck. It was a sorry-assed lack of a plan is what that was, Marine.”

  He trailed off with the annoyance of realizing that between the two of them they didn’t even have a drivable car. The two walked on in silence for a few moments as the views of the sea and the atmosphere seemed to sweep their problems away. The breeze filled them up, reenergizing their spirits. Even Owen seemed to have checked his bad attitude. Then Kelly’s phone rang. He looked at it and saw it was Megan.

  “How is your drive going?” he asked, knowing that it was a two-day competitive driving event to get all the way to Boston.

  “I just arrived!” she said, catching him off guard.

  “You drove straight through the night?”

  “No. I decided to turn around. I just made a right onto Roosevelt.

  “You’re back here?” Kelly said, aghast with genuine surprise. He began looking around for her.

  “Yes,” she said as she hung up and pulled up along side of the men. “You two look like you could use a ride.”

  “Looks can be deceiving,” Owen boasted. “We are all a lot better off than we look.”

  Kelly said, “I sure wish you would share this back burner optimism with us that you keep hinting at.”

  “Let’s take another trip back to the B&B. I’ve got one more surprise for you!”

  The men climbed into the VW and for the first time in several days, all three of them felt as if they had nothing but time. They were a couple of miles out from the Artist House but Megan insisted they turn around and take the long way around so that they could soak up the atmosphere of the beautiful island. Was there any point in being there if they didn’t take a few moments to enjoy their surroundings? They followed Roosevelt around the south end of the island and then wound through the hive of streets until they found Duval. They cruised up the street at a tourist pace and took in the island music and the pastel colored buildings that had been turned into commercial shops. They had to slow for tourists constantly. Being later in the evening, many of the pedestrians behaved as if they had started drinking before lunch, which Kelly knew to be the norm. The people weren’t of any particular demographic other than sharing the attitude that they were on island time. Nobody was in a hurry.

  They eventually made it back to the Artist House and received another look from its proprietor as they headed up the stairs. The Do Not Disturb sign was still in place on the outside of the door. Kelly’s and Owen’s clothing was scattered around the room and it looked like a riot had taken place inside of a thrift shop. Owen kicked aside some of his items that were on the floor by the bed as he climbed down on all fours. Then he pulled out a case that was identical to the one that he and Kelly had just dropped off in Miami.

  “What did you do, have two reproductions made?” Kelly asked. “Keep the real one for yourself?”

  Owen grinned without giving any telling body language. “Believe me, I thought about it. I surely did,” he admitted. “But then I thought about what had happened to its previous owners throughout history. I thought about what kind of man I am and what I stand for. I thought about the man that I want to be and what I need to do to get there. Stealing a stolen painting from a crooked congressman for my own financial gain isn’t in alignment with my value system.”

  Kelly nodded in understanding and relief. Dealing in stolen artwork wasn’t the type of thing that he wanted to be involved in either. Although Kelly would have admitted that its value was certainly attractive.

  “No,” Owen continued. “I came across this painting at an art auction. Honestly…,” he added. “I believe it was painted by a lesser known painter; a protégé of Vermeer. It’s an authentic Dutch era painting and it’s worth at least tens of thousands of dollars. I’ve had an art historian work up a certificate of authenticity and I plan to sell it and put the proceeds towards a life here in Key West.”

  Kelly started to comment that there would never be a dull moment on the island with Owen living there when the distant roar of a fire truck was heard. It piqued Kelly’s curiosity so he climbed the wooden steps up to the turret and glanced across the island. He saw dark smoke bellowing into the sky, originating from the direction of Southern Florida Import and Export.

  “Looks like Basciano’s crew just finished cleaning up the warehouse!” he said.

  ***

  Chapter 29

  A couple of months had gone by and there had been several developments. Megan had found an apartment on the northeast end of the island. She had insisted on having her own place as her and Kelly determined what a future together might look like. Kelly had been surprised at first but had quickly seen the wisdom in her decision. Megan had taken the first month off work but after developing a perfect tan and reading several books, she had begun to grow restless. She needed a true challenge in her professional life. She’d contacted her former boss who had gotten her hired on officially as a nurse at the Naval Branch Health Clinic and unofficially as an on call nurse to aid in the treatment of special ops teams that operated from the nearby Naval Base. Megan was enjoying both new positions and felt herself growing to fulfill her new place in life.

  Owen had grown restless even quicker. The first thing he had done was sell the painting that he’d found at the auction in Redondo Beach, California. He’d pulled in about thirty five thousand dollars after the sales commission, which had been a nice little bump for his finances, all things considered. He’d briefly thought of doing something professionally with artwork but he realized that would require quite a bit of travel. Each day he was growing fonder o
f the island of Key West so he preferred to spend his time there.

  Kelly had decided against residing on another boat. He still enjoyed being on the water but he wanted the privacy and security of a real home. He had located a rental on Olivia Street, which had just the right balance that he was looking for. It was within walking distance of Duval and all of the island’s madness but far enough away that he could sit in his tiny backyard in peace. He was seeing Megan regularly and the newness of a fresh relationship hadn’t worn off yet. He hoped it never would but the two of them had agreed to take it one day at a time without the added pressure of any real expectations.

  Swanson had come through on his end. He had located the corporation that manufactured and installed the high-tech hardware that monitored every boat and plane coming in or out of southern Florida. The company was located in Miami and Swanson had briefly acted as a liaison between the two parties. With some politically inspired wrangling, Kelly and Owen were able to secure a contract to operate in the Key West area. It turned out that the business loathed the long and usually slow drive of pulling a boat down to Key West to inspect and replace faulty monitors. They were happy to work with a sub-contractor that would be responsible for the furthest geographic region that the business was tasked with guarding. The specifics involved a series of monitors that ran around Key West and towards Boca Chica Key. It wasn’t a full time gig but based on its sensitive nature and level of expertise required, it paid well. In fact, it paid enough to cover the cost of living for both men with a modest monthly allowance left over.