Last Op

by Jamie Fredric

  They stood by the door, finally seeing a tall man walking towards them. He was about 6’4”, with short, light brown hair, thin features and a ruddy complexion.

  Grant extended a hand. “Chief Inspector Townsend?”

  Royce Townsend shook Grant’s hand, holding it with a firm grip. “That’s correct. I believe Sergeant Fowley said you are Grant Stevens?”

  “Yes, sir, and this is Joe Adler.”

  Townsend and Adler shook hands, then Townsend directed them into the conference room.

  Grant pulled a chair out and sat down, keeping his windbreaker zipped up, covering his .45. He started to reach for the letter in his pocket, then decided to hold off.

  Townsend dropped a notepad on the table then took a seat. After taking out a ballpoint pen from his tweed sports coat, he slid the pad toward himself.

  Grant and Adler waited, and finally, Townsend looked at Grant. “I assumed Mr. Henley would have been here.”

  Grant replied, “That’s ‘Commander’ Henley, sir, and he had a prior commitment.”

  “According to Sergeant Fowley you work in Washington, D.C. for the Naval Investigative Service.”

  “Yes, sir. We do.”

  “Civilians?”

  “No, sir. We’re Navy.” Grant rested his arms on the table and asked, “Didn’t Sergeant Fowley give you this information, sir?”

  “He did. Now, would you please give me your ranks?”

  Grant complied, and as Townsend was writing, Grant looked across the table at Adler, giving him an almost imperceptible shake of his head. He wanted to move things along faster. “Have you found out any more about Mr. Carter’s death, sir?”

  Townsend dropped his pen on the notepad then leaned back. “According to the M.E.’s report, Mr. Carter drowned.”

  “So, he was alive when he and his car went under that sludge?”

  “That’s what was indicated, with the, uh, fluid the M.E. found in his lungs.”

  “Was anything else found in the car that would give us--you any leads, sir?”

  “Two suitcases were in the backseat and a box with other personal items. It looked like he may have been moving. But why he was at the clay pits is a bit of a mystery.” Townsend’s eyebrow went up and he asked, “You wouldn’t know why now, would you?”

  Grant decided enough was enough. He needed information. He had to find Labeaux. “Sir, are you aware that Derek Carter worked at St. Mawgan?”

  “That was in Sergeant Fowley’s notes.”

  Grant continued, “We have reason to believe that Mr. Carter was involved in a security breach. And before you ask, our boss is aware that we’d be having this discussion with you.”

  “Can I ask what that security breach might be?”

  “You can, sir, but I’m afraid there are some things I can’t discuss. If you or a higher up needs clarification, Admiral Torrinson at NIS can be contacted. Hope you understand.”

  Townsend again thumbed through his notes. “What’s this admiral’s full name and title?”

  “He’s Rear Admiral John Torrinson, Chief of Naval Investigative Ser...”

  “Oh, never mind. I see it,” Townsend interrupted, putting a circle around the written information.

  While Townsend made more notes, Grant sat back, clasping his hands behind his head, seeing Adler patting his stomach. Grant just smiled before saying, “I can tell you this, sir, we’re positive Victor Labeaux’s involved.”

  Townsend was completely caught off guard. “Bloody hell! Labeaux? You’re sure?”

  Adler responded, “Positive, sir. We saw him at the harbor.”

  “Joe’s correct, sir. Both times were at the harbor, and both pure coincidence.”

  Townsend again sat back. “Twice. You went to the harbor twice. For any particular reason?”

  Grant explained the circumstances that brought him to the harbor.

  Townsend was ready to write. “Did you happen to get a license plate number?”

  Adler responded, “Afraid not, sir. The Rover didn’t have any.”

  “Maybe it was a rental. I’ll check the local companies.” Townsend made a notation and underlined it twice.

  “I don’t think we’ve got much time, sir,” Grant said. “If I’m right, we’ve only got until early Monday to stop this...incident.”

  Townsend stopped writing, then tapped the pen against his mouth. “It’s too bad you didn’t talk with me sooner. Maybe...”

  Grant interrupted. “Didn’t have anything to go on, sir, until Labeaux came into the picture.” Grant pushed his chair back, stood, then started thinking out loud. “I doubt he’s hiding anywhere in town. It’s gotta be someplace with easy access to the base or maybe the harbor. How much time would it take to locate any houses rented over the past, oh, let’s say, over the past couple of months?”

  Townsend propped his elbows on the table, resting his chin on his fists. “Why don’t you think he’d rent a flat? Most visitors want to stay in town.”

  Grant shook his head. “Don’t think we can consider him a typical visitor, sir. He wouldn’t want neighbors. The less eyes, the better.”

  “I’ll see what I can find out,” Townsend answered. “The number of house rentals should be lower than vehicle rentals.”

  “What about another boat, skipper?” Adler asked. “Do you think the harbor needs watching?”

  “Might be a good idea, Joe.” Grant looked toward Townsend. “Guess it might be a long-shot, sir. Think you could have the harbor staked out?”

  “For what purpose and for how long?”

  Grant pulled his sleeve back, and checked his watch. “Through Monday morning, unless we luck out sooner.”

  “What would we be looking for?”

  “That’s a tough one, sir, but I doubt he’d rent any other craft. I suspect there’s another vessel involved, anchored offshore, and something bigger that’s probably got a life raft of some type. He’s gonna want to haul ass, so more than likely it’ll be a rubber boat with an engine. That’s what you’d have to watch for.”

  Townsend kept his eyes on Grant as Adler spoke. “He doesn’t have a crystal ball, sir. But his instincts can be pretty damn scary at times.”

  Grant turned away for a moment, then he looked again at Townsend. “Sir, do you have a large map of the coast we could look at?”

  Townsend pushed his chair back as he stood. “Wait here.”

  Once he left, Adler got up, and adjusted his holster under his jacket. “You’re planning on inspecting the coastline, aren’t you?”

  “Gotta bring the chopper back to St. Mawgan, Joe. That goddamn boat’s gotta be within striking distance if I’m right.”

  Townsend came back with a large map draped over his arm. Laying it on the conference table, he smoothed it out. “Now what?” he asked staring down at the color map.

  Grant and Adler both leaned over the table. Grant traced the coastline with his index finger. “Lot of coves,” he commented. Without looking up, he asked Townsend, “Are most of these beaches used by tourists?”

  “They are. Even with the cliffs, most have paths for easy access.”

  Grant continued searching, finally pointing to a place off the coast. “This is Lundy, right?”

  “It is.”

  Grant calculated the distance. “Looks to be about sixty miles from here.” He leaned closer to the map, looking at dotted lines. “Is this ferry service?”

  “Yes. Sailings go from Bideford and Ilfracombe to the southeast coast of Lundy.”

  “Guess we can eliminate that area,” Grant said, drawing a circle on the map with a finger. “Is there a large population on the island, sir?”

  “The only year-round residents are mostly volunteers, and I’d say no more than thirty.”

  “Thirty? Three zero?” Adler questioned, with a raised eyebrow.

  “Correct.”

  “And I assume there’s a lighthouse somewhere near here.” This time Grant tapped the northwest tip of the island.”

&nbs
p; Townsend looked closer. “That’s one. There’s another at the southeastern tip, right here.”

  “What do you think, skipper? Did you find a spot where you think they’d be hiding?”

  “I’d say right in here, Joe. What’s this area like, sir? Cliffs?”

  “There are, but there are also steeper, grass-covered slopes. The area you’re pointing to is Gannets’ Rock. When the weather’s good there are usually guided boat tours for viewing the seals and seabird colonies. But what...?” Townsend didn’t get a chance to finish

  Adler’s radio sounded. “Uh, excuse me, sir.” He got up and gave an ‘uh-oh’ kind of look to Grant. He started reaching into his jacket, as he was heading for the door. Grant’s eyes stayed with Adler until he was out of the room.

  “Captain?”

  Grant snapped his head around. “Yes, sir?”

  “Care to tell me what you have in mind?”

  “Gonna do a recon of that area, sir. Shouldn’t take long.”

  “I can contact the RAF at St. Mawgan. Maybe they can fly...”

  “Not necessary, sir. We have a chopper standing by. Unless you have anything else, sir, I guess we can end this meeting. Oh, one more thing. Joe and I are staying at the EOD barracks.”

  Townsend thumbed through his notes. “So you’re not at the Atlantic anymore?”

  Grant shook his head, still watching the door, when it opened and Adler motioned for him. He extended his hand to Townsend. “Good to meet you, sir. Will be in touch.” Just as he got to the door he turned around. “Did you ever get a report from the M.E. on that body brought to the harbor, sir?”

  “Nothing yet.”

  Grant nodded, then left, chasing down Adler in the corridor. “What the hell happened, Joe?” he asked just above a whisper.

  Adler pushed the door open. “Tell you outside.”

  Walking away from the building, Grant put on his cap then grabbed Adler’s arm. “Tell me.”

  “That was Chief Becker. Petty Officer Weaver went to pick up the commander at 0700 but...”

  Grant slammed his fist into his palm. “Goddammit!”

  Chapter 16

  With tires squealing, and a plume of smoke spewing from the tailpipe, the MG sped out of the parking lot. The sports car fishtailed when it hit the street.

  “Call Becker!” Grant said angrily. “See if they tried phoning the house.”

  “Where’re we going?” Adler asked getting ready to make the call.

  “Henley’s. We’re gonna take a look ourselves.”

  Adler was on the radio. “Chief, Lieutenant Adler here. How long did Weaver wait at the house?”

  “Twenty minutes, sir. Then he radioed me. I had him wait another twenty minutes just in case, sir.”

  “Have you made any more phone calls to the house?”

  “Yes, sir. Every ten minutes but still no answer. What do you want me to do, sir?”

  “Stay close, Chief. Call us if you make contact with the commander. We’re on our way over there. Out.” Adler switched off the radio. He looked across at Grant, already anticipating a reaction. “Becker said they’ve been calling every ten minutes.”

  “Fuck!” Grant shouted, smacking his fist against the steering wheel.

  “Looks like the commander may have done your job for you, skipper.”

  Grant snapped his head left, giving him a quick glance. “What?! What are you talking about?!”

  “Looks as if he may have relieved himself of command.”

  As pissed as he was, and the longer he drove, the more Grant questioned. Had he put too much pressure on Henley? Had he fucked up the situation from day one? Or did Henley fuck up himself? He’d never been honest with Grant. And as much as he seemed to want to protect his wife, he went about it absolutely the wrong way, probably putting her, and himself in more danger.

  Grant shook his head, trying to clear the jumble of questions. He had to refocus. That was becoming a problem.

  “Here’s the park, skipper,” Adler said, breaking into Grant’s thoughts.

  Grant turned onto the road leading to Henley’s street and started slowing down. “We’ll park here and ‘hoof’ it to the house.”

  He got out of the car and looked overhead, feeling raindrops on his face. Weather wasn’t going to interfere with whatever they had to do.

  Adler came around the front of the car. “You want me to scope out the neighborhood?”

  Grant nodded. “Hate to risk it, but if you see any neighbors, ask some questions. I’ll start checking around the house.”

  “Here,” Adler said, reaching into his pocket. “Don’t know if these’ll work on those locks, but no harm trying.”

  Grant took the small leather case and slipped it in his jacket. “Okay. Let’s go.”

  Adler started walking down the street, looking for anyone to talk to. No one was outside, but he noticed an older woman standing in front of a large plate glass window. She backed up seeing him look her way.

  Going to the front door, he knocked on the glass. The woman came to the door but didn’t open it. He gave the best smile he could muster, as he tipped his cap. “Morning, ma’am. How are you today?” She just looked at him, without responding.

  “My friend and I are visiting Newquay for a couple of days, ma’am. The Henleys are friends of ours,” he said as he pointed down the street. “It was going to be a surprise visit.”

  She unlocked the door. Opening it part way, she held onto it with a frail, wrinkled hand. “How lovely. Are you American?”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “And you came all the way from America?”

  “Yes, ma’am. We did. Would you happen to know where they are?”

  “Oh, no. I’m afraid not,” she answered, brushing a strand of gray hair from her forehead. “I don’t know where they went in that vehicle. It was so early this morning when they left.”

  “You saw them leave?”

  “Well, I don’t sleep very well, and I just happened to be in the living room. It was still quite dark. There weren’t any lights on in their house or the vehicle so I couldn’t entirely see...”

  “Was it their car, ma’am? Did they leave in their car?”

  “Oh, no, no. It was something bigger.”

  Adler’s heart thumped. “Did you see if there was anyone with them?”

  “There may have been, but I’m not sure.” She drew a knitted white shawl around her shoulders. “Would you like to come in and have a cup of tea?”

  Adler smiled. “I’m afraid we don’t have time, but we’ll try to come back later. I appreciate you taking the time to talk with me, ma’am.”

  As he turned to leave, she gave a small wave. “It was lovely chatting with you, dear. Cheerio!”

  He ran across the street, but not seeing Grant, he called, “Skipper?” Grant poked his head around the side. Adler waved him toward him. “It’s okay, boss. I told the neighbor we were paying a surprise visit on the Henleys.”

  As Grant started toward Adler, he pulled his jacket down over his holster. “Find out anything that’ll help us?”

  “Yes and no, but think we’d better move out.”

  They started walking toward the MG as Adler relayed his conversation with the neighbor. Not wanting to attract any additional attention, they immediately got in the car. Grant started the engine, turned on the wipers, then swung a U-turn.

  Not finding the Henleys left them with two questions: Were they forced into the vehicle, or did they go willingly? In either case, they had to track them down. But with so much ground to cover, Grant and Adler couldn’t do it alone. Grant headed back to Newquay, and Chief Inspector Townsend.

  Adler finally asked, “When you gonna let the admiral know?”

  “He’s next.”

  “The two of you sure have been chatty this op.”

  Grant gave a slight nod before saying, “Christ! Just think of the shit Jack’s got in that brain of his.”

  “Yeah. The knowledge to disarm every know
n weapon on earth.”

  Both of them went dead quiet, until Grant finally said, “It’s making me sick, Joe. I wanna believe he’s innocent, but...”

  “But he hasn’t given us anything to prove it.”

  The implications were overwhelming. A U.S. Navy officer. Traitor? Innocent victim? Dead? Alive?

  Grant pulled into the police parking lot, shut off the engine, then sat quietly for a moment before turning to Adler. “I’ve gotta give him a chance, Joe.”

  “So, you’re waiting to tell Torrinson, right?” Grant nodded, and Adler said, “I knew you would. Hell! We’ve got the rest of the day to find him.”

  Grant could barely manage a half smile before getting out of the car.

  *

  “Captain Stevens!” Townsend called from the passageway, seeing the two men coming into the lobby.

  “Do you have a minute, sir?” Grant asked.

  “I didn’t expect to see you so soon. Come to the conference room,” he said with a wave.

  By the time Grant and Adler got there, Townsend was already sitting at the head of the table.

  Adler closed the door, as Grant stood opposite Townsend. “Sir, we’ve got a problem.”

  “Tell me,” Townsend said, sliding a notebook closer.

  “Commander Henley and his wife are nowhere to be found, sir. We don’t know if they’ve gone into hiding or if they’ve been kidnapped.”

  Townsend sat up straighter. “Kidnapped?! Why would they be kidnapped?”

  “Sir, I wish I could fill you in completely, but as of now, I don’t have authorization.” Adler’s eyebrows shot up hearing the statement.

  Townsend didn’t like that response, but just proceeded with the question, “When and what proof do you have?”

  Grant pulled a chair out and sat down. Townsend sat quietly listening to the report on the two men’s visit to Henley’s neighborhood.

  When Grant finished, Townsend shook his head and finally commented, “Not much to go on.”

  “I know, sir,” Grant answered, “but EOD personnel were to pick up the commander at 0700. He never answered the door, and hasn’t responded to repeated phone calls. That’s why Joe and I went to the house.” Grant shook his head, worried. “I don’t know why he hasn’t contacted anyone, sir, unless he’s unable to.” Before Townsend could comment, Grant asked, “Sir, have your men gone to the harbor to stake it out?”