Last Op

by Jamie Fredric

  When they were alone, Grant said, “Sir, I’m Captain Grant Stevens. I work for the U.S. Naval Investigative Service in Washington, D.C. All I can tell you is that I’m under orders from Admiral John Torrinson.” He took a step closer to the harbormaster. “I really need to find out what happened to that boat and the two men on board, sir.” He waited.

  Roberts stroked his face, hesitating briefly. “Are you the American the police talked with about the man....”

  “Yes, sir. I am.”

  “I see. Well, it was reported that some wreckage had been spotted drifting toward the coast. It appeared to be from a small craft.”

  “Any indication what happened?”

  “Not yet, except there was a sighting of smoke.”

  “Like from an explosion?”

  Roberts scratched the back of his head, shoving his hat forward. “Possibly.” He readjusted his hat.

  “Sound? I mean, did anyone hear an explosion?”

  “Nothing was mentioned.”

  “Have any other boats been spotted in the area?”

  Roberts shook his head. “The weather’s brought most of the craft back into port, especially the rentals. Those folks get a bit skittish.”

  “Do you know if there’s any search and rescue going on now?”

  “I believe the RAF had sent out one of its Shackleton’s, but I don’t have details yet.”

  Grant lifted a pen from his jacket pocket. “You have anything I can write on?”

  Roberts rummaged in his pockets, pulling out a slightly used napkin. “Will this do?”

  Grant unfolded the crumbled paper, looking for a place to write that wasn’t stained by grease. He laid it in his palm and started writing. “Here’s my name and a contact number at St. Mawgan. Whoever answers will know how to reach me.” He handed the napkin back, then slipped the pen into his pocket. “I’d really appreciate you letting me know if the search and rescue turns up anything.”

  Roberts glanced at the napkin. “I’ll see what I can do.”

  “Thanks,” Grant said, then added, “I’d appreciate you not discussing our conversation with anyone, sir.”

  “You have my word, Captain. Oh, for your information, if we’re called out for a rescue and I’m unable to contact you, keep an ear out for ‘maroons’ being fired.”

  “‘Maroons,’ sir?” Grant asked curiously.

  “Yes. It’s a signal for our volunteers to report here to the harbor.”

  “Is that like fireworks?”

  “It is, but in sound only. There aren’t any visible signs, like colors flashing, but the noise is much louder. Two will be fired if the volunteers here are needed. There is a large ocean-going coastguard vessel in Padstow for emergencies that are beyond our lifeboat’s capabilities. If that is ever needed, we contact them by telephone.”

  “Understand, sir. And again, thanks!”

  Padstow is approximately sixteen miles north of Newquay, with the lifeboat station sitting at the River Camel Estuary. The boat is an Oakley class, self-righting lifeboat, thirty-seven feet in length.

  Grant turned and ran up South Quay Hill, not stopping until he reached the car park on Fore Street. He hoped Adler was on his way in that chopper because they were going to need it.

  *

  EOD

  St. Mawgan

  Grant pulled the MG into the first parking space available in front of the EOD building. Grabbing the car keys from the ignition, he flung the door open, trying to extricate himself as quickly as he could from the sports car’s front seat.

  As he hurried toward the office, the door opened and Adler came out, wearing his service dress khakis. “Skipper! How ya doin’?”

  “Joe! Where’s that chopper you came in on?” He looked up and down the runway, unable to spot the helo.

  Adler knew there was trouble and he rushed toward him. “They’re refueling for the return to Mildenhall!”

  “Come on!” Grant said. They took off running toward the office.

  A petty officer sitting behind the desk jumped up when he saw the two officers coming through the doorway. “Sirs!”

  Grant ordered, “Petty Officer, call Operations. By my orders that chopper is not to take off! Request the pilot contact me here ASAP!”

  “Aye, aye, sir!” The petty officer immediately dialed the number.

  Grant turned to Adler, but he didn’t even have to ask, as Adler said, “Our gear’s already stowed in the barracks, skipper. By the way, I brought you a stash of these,” he said, reaching into his shirt pocket.

  Grant took the Snickers candy bar and licked his lips. “Later,” he said, giving Adler’s arm a light slap. “We’ll head over to the barracks as soon as we have confirmation on the chopper, Joe.”

  The door to Henley’s office opened, and Henley poked his head out. Grant turned toward him. “You okay, Jack?”

  Henley just nodded.

  The petty officer held the phone toward Grant. “Excuse me, sir. The the pilot’s being patched through.”

  Grant held a finger up to Henley, indicating for him to wait, as he answered the phone call, “Stevens.”

  “Lieutenant Norris here, sir. Is there a problem?”

  “Lieutenant, you just flew Lieutenant Adler here to St. Mawgan.”

  “Yes, sir, we did.”

  “We need to ‘requisition’ your chopper for awhile.”

  “Don’t understand, sir.” Norris shot a glance over to his co-pilot, Lieutenant Taylor, as he shrugged his shoulders.

  “Security matter, Lieutenant. Have you completed refueling?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Do you know where the EOD building is?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Okay. There’s a field just behind it for you to land. Give us about fifteen minutes to get our gear. I’ll explain when we board. But be prepared for immediate takeoff.”

  “Aye, aye, sir.”

  “Let’s go, Joe,” Grant said, leading Adler into Henley’s office.

  Once the door was closed, Grant said, “Assume you two have met?” Both men nodded. “Okay. Here’s the short version of what happened this morning when I met Gunny Baranski at the harbor.” Grant filled both men in on the details he had.

  When he finished, he looked at Henley. “Jack, Joe and I will get our gear and have the chopper fly us out to the area. We’ll see if we can find anything that’ll give us a clue.”

  “What should I do?” Henley asked with obvious concern showing on his face.

  “Nothing you can do for now. Any luck on that phone call?”

  Henley shook his head. “I tried at least five times, but no answer.”

  Grant didn’t expect there would be. He turned toward the door, then looked back at Henley. “On second thought, there is something you can do. Try and find out if that Shackleton located any bodies. Let us know before the chopper lifts off.”

  Henley started to reach for the phone, when Grant asked, “You haven’t talked to Victoria, have you?”

  Henley shook his head. “No. I don’t know what to tell her.”

  “Nothing, Jack. You tell her nothing for the time being. Listen, can you stay here until we get back? I don’t have a timeframe, but I may need to talk with you again.”

  “Sure. I’ll wait.”

  Grant nodded. As he and Adler got to the outer office, Grant stopped. “Wait up, Joe.” He walked over to the desk and grabbed a piece of paper and a pencil. As he wrote, he said to Becker, “Chief, have one of the petty officers go to the Atlantic Hotel. Tell him to give this note to Miss Abigail Hall. She works at the front desk. All my stuff’s in my room and already packed. Appreciate it being brought here.”

  “I’ll see that it’s done, sir.”

  He handed the folded paper to Becker, then took his wallet from his back pocket. He thumbed through English banknotes, selected a few, then handed them to Becker. “This should take care of the bill.”

  Grant followed Adler outside. They broke into a jog, heading o
ver to the barracks, when Adler asked with a raised eyebrow, “And just how well do you know this Miss Hall?” He opened the door, letting Grant go ahead

  of him.

  “Like I said, she’s the desk clerk at the hotel.”

  “There’s gotta be more to the story! Be assured we will be continuing this conversation later,” Adler laughed.

  Chapter 11

  Flying about two miles off the coast, the Sea King started making several passes along that stretch of water. Nothing had been spotted during the flight out. The pilot turned east, maneuvering the chopper closer inland, then started the same routine, flying north, south, then reverse. With the speed and direction of the current, any debris should have floated closer to the beach.

  Grant and Adler sat at the edge of the cargo doorway, dressed in wetsuits, booties, and swim fins, their masks hanging around their necks.

  “See anything yet, Joe?” Grant continued looking at the water passing under the chopper.

  Adler pressed the binoculars against his eyes, moving his head slowly, trying not to miss one square inch. “Nothing, skipper. Not even a life vest. You sure we’re in the right area?”

  “Can’t be sure, that’s why I asked Lieutenant Norris to fly this route. That eighteen footer couldn’t have gone farther out with one small engine. I’m bettin’ somebody was out here waiting for those two men.”

  The chopper started banking as Grant heard, “Captain Stevens!” The co-pilot, Lieutenant Taylor, stepped behind him. “Sir, we’re coming up on something. You should be able to see it any time now.”

  Both Grant and Adler leaned forward, trying to catch sight of the debris. “I see it, skipper! Two o’clock!”

  The pilot reduced speed then slowly brought the chopper to hover fifty feet above the water.

  “Looks like it might be part of a door. There’re some broken planks.” Adler lowered the glasses. “Are we gonna go take a peek?”

  Grant looked up at Taylor. “Lieutenant, can you take us down to ten feet?”

  “Our pleasure, sir! What speed?”

  “No more than ten knots. We’ll signal when we’re ready for extraction,” Grant said.

  Taylor gave a thumb’s up, then relayed the order to Lieutenant Norris.

  In order not to disturb the floating debris, the pilot maneuvered the chopper farther away. The lower the chopper got, the more water swirled and kicked up.

  Grant and Adler were ready. They sat in the doorway waiting for the “go” signal. They rubbed some spit inside their masks, put them on, and adjusted the straps.

  The green light came on. With their arms close to their chests, their hands pressing their masks against their faces, they left the chopper, first Grant, then Adler three seconds later.

  Popping up to the surface, they signaled Taylor with a fist high in the air. Taylor saluted, then stood-by.

  Grant and Adler started swimming toward the debris. The current was strong. The debris field had already drifted well past where the smoke had been first spotted.

  Grant called, “Gonna take a look!” He pointed down. Taking a deep breath, he disappeared beneath the surface.

  He dove straight down, then started swimming back and forth, slowly expanding his search. He looked up, seeing Adler swimming through debris.

  The odds of finding anything were slim to none, but he had to give it a shot. If they had more time, he’d have the chopper take them farther north.

  He looked down one more time before he started his ascent, breaking the surface about five feet from Adler. Spitting some water from his mouth, he asked, “Anything?”

  Adler was hanging onto a large piece of wood, part of a door. He held it toward Grant. “This is what I saw from the chopper. Appears to be some blackening around the edges. With all these pieces, it looks like this boat went ‘boom’ big time.”

  Grant examined the wood. “Seen anything with numbers?”

  “Not yet.” Adler shoved the wood away.

  Treading water, they maneuvered their way through a field of broken, burned debris, most too small to recognize.

  “Wait a minute,” Adler called, as he reached for something. He swam back to Grant. “Is this what you’re looking for?”

  Grant reached for the piece of wood slightly bigger than his hand. Located near the jagged edge was part of the number five and what looked like the letter J. “What the hell would I do without you?”

  “Not much!” Adler laughed. “Have you seen enough? Should I signal for the chopper?”

  “Do it!”

  Adler lit off the flare then held it high overhead. Within seconds of spotting the red smoke, Norris aimed the chopper for the extraction point.

  Taylor double-checked that one end of the ladder was secured, then he dropped the rest over the side. He stood by, ready to assist.

  Below, Grant and Adler fought the heavy wash spraying over them and swam toward the ladder. Adler reached up and grabbed hold, then started climbing, with Grant right behind him.

  Once they were aboard, Taylor asked, “Where next, sir?”

  Grant replied, “Take us back to St. Mawgan, Lieutenant.”

  “Aye, aye sir.” Taylor returned to the cockpit.

  Adler took off his face mask, then pushed his hood back. “So, what now?”

  Grant laid his swim fins behind him. “Quick call to Torrinson first. Then...well, then we’ve gotta find that bastard Webb.”

  “You think he went the way of that other guy, what’s his name? Carter?”

  Grant put his foot up on the deck and rubbed his leg. “Wouldn’t surprise me, Joe, but I sure as hell hope not. We need to run our own form of G2 (interrogation) on him. Some serious shit is about to happen and we can’t find the players.” He picked up the piece of wood, running his finger over what was left of the number five. “Can’t screw around anymore. How are those nimble fingers of yours?”

  Adler held up his hands, wiggling all his fingers. “Just say the word and these little digits will perform more than admirably!”

  *

  St. Mawgan

  The chopper touched down on the field behind the EOD building. While Norris shut down the engine, Taylor rushed from the cockpit. He stopped near the door, just as Adler and Grant jumped out. “Everything okay, sirs?”

  “We’re good, Lieutenant, and thanks for the help!” Adler responded.

  “Any time, sir!” Taylor replied.

  “You’re not off the hook, yet,” Grant laughed, as he grabbed his swim fins from the deck. “We may need your services again real soon, so I’d like you to remain on base. Contact your C.O. and give him a heads-up. If he needs further authorization, ask him to contact Admiral Torrinson at NIS in D.C.”

  “Yes, sir. Where should we contact you?”

  “Just call EOD.” It dawned on him how much he’d said that lately. He gave a quick “thank you” salute. He and Adler ran across a field of damp grass, heading for EOD.

  Henley came running around the side of the building, stopping short when he saw the two men. “Did you find anything?” he asked anxiously.

  Grant caught his breath and answered, “Not much. Look, we’ve gotta get out of these wetsuits. Meet you in your office in twenty.” Not waiting for a response, he headed to the barracks with Adler running alongside him.

  *

  Henley was sitting behind his desk, swiveling back and forth, puffing on a cigarette and drinking Coke. He swallowed the last mouthful, then threw the can in the trash. Looking at his watch, he reached for the phone to call his wife, when a knock at his door interrupted him. “Come!”

  Grant came in ahead of Adler. “Did you get any word from RAF search and rescue, Jack?”

  Henley smashed the cigarette in the ashtray. “No bodies had been spotted. They patrolled along the coast but still hadn’t seen any.”

  Adler had posted himself next to the door, just waiting for Grant to say something, to come up with their next move. He watched silently as Grant paced back and forth. Finall
y, he decided to offer his own opinion. “I’m thinking those two got a ride back to the beach. You, too?”

  Grant stopped and slapped him on the shoulder. “Two great minds, my friend!”

  Then he turned to Henley. “Jack, what’s that brother-in-law of yours look like? Describe him.”

  “About five eight, light brown hair, kinda long but not quite to his shoulders. It doesn’t look anything like it did when he was in the RAF. He’s got brown eyes. Part of his right eyebrow is missing from an accident when he was a kid, apparently. Wait a minute.” He reached into the middle drawer of his desk, pulling out a photograph. “Here’s a picture of him and Victoria. It’s not too recent, but he looks about the same.”

  Grant examined the color photo, memorizing facial features. The two didn’t look much alike. Victoria had blue eyes, straight blond hair just to her shoulder, and was about five inches shorter than her brother. There was something about the look on her face. She was smiling, but it seemed like a forced smile.

  He handed the photo to Adler before asking Henley, “Anybody check out his house or flat? I think you said he lived in St. Columb Major.”

  “It’s a flat, and no, none of us have checked it.”

  “And the last time you saw or talked with him?”

  “The night you and I met at Sailor’s. I don’t know if Vicky’s called him, but they usually don’t talk every day.”

  Grant sat on the corner of the desk. “Something else to put on the list,” he said under his breath. “Does he usually just take off?”

  “Maybe just during this past year. Every once in awhile we wouldn’t hear from him for a couple of days at a time.”

  “Any explanation from him?”

  Henley shook his head. “He’s a grown man. None of our business, although we suspected he took off for some party-time away from here. And since it’s the weekend, I wouldn’t be surprised if he already left town.”

  “With anybody in particular?”

  “Don’t know.”

  Grant’s eyes narrowed. “Seems you know very little about your own brother-in-law, Jack.”