The Grey Man- Partners

by JL Curtis

  The old man laughed, “Milty, you really need to spit out your chew before you answer the phone.”

  Milton groused, “Ah shaddap John, at least I don’t drawl all over myself like you Texans.”

  Laughing the old man continued, “Well, I am from Texas. Got your email, I talked to the sheriff and he has no problems with me going. What’s the deal? I see both CBP and Coasties on this request.”

  Milton answered, “The original request came from a Rear Admiral Carson, he’s the new head of the eleventh district for the Coast Guard. I pushed it over to CPB to see if they would be interested, and they came back affirmative. They offered a classroom for an early morning brief.”

  “Carson, Carson… I can’t place him. I wonder how he knew who I am?”

  Milton said, “Dunno. You must have crossed paths with him somewhere. So you good to go? We’ll pay for your tickets, hotel and rental as usual. One day with CBP and one with the Coasties? Fly out Monday, back Thursday?”

  The old man replied, “I may either go out early or stay late. Jesse and her hubby are up at Pendleton, so I’m going to try to sneak up for day or two with them and the grandson.”

  “That works! She had a boy, right? Jason?” Milton asked.

  “Jace, and he’s coming up on eighteen months now. She sends me pictures and little videos all the time.”

  “Hope you get the time with them. I’ll get you set up with POCs for both agencies.”

  The old man replied, “Thanks Milty! It should be interesting.”

  ***

  “Papa! What’s up?” Jesse asked when she answered the phone.

  The old man said, “I’m coming out there next week. Which is a better weekend for y’all? This one or the following one?”

  Jesse laid the phone down and looked at the schedule on the computer, “Looks like next weekend. Aaron’s got duty this weekend, and I’m supposed to be teaching a basic pistol class on Saturday to the Wives Club.”

  The old man poked the dates into his computer and said, “Okay, I’ll come up Thursday, unless you want to meet me in San Diego.” Jesse heard clicking as he typed, “Looks like I’ll be at the Holiday Inn there at Oceanside.”

  Jesse asked, “How are you flying in?”

  The old man said, “Probably from DFW direct. The Fibbies are paying, so it’ll be cheap seats, but it’s only three hours. I’ll get a rental car there too. How’s Aaron doing?”

  Jesse sighed, “It’s not going real well. They’ve bumped him to an admin slot in the teams, and he’s not happy. But he’s home every night, so that’s a good thing for us. And he’s helping with Jace a lot more. He and Matt are spending a lot of time talking, and I think Matt’s got him convinced to just lie low for right now.”

  “Why don’t we plan on going out to dinner one night then? Y’all pick the place, maybe seafood?”

  Jesse laughed, “What’s the matter Papa? Getting tired of steak?”

  The old man snorted, “Nope, but I will eat fish, when I can get it fresh. I gotta get back to work. Take care, okay? Love you.”

  “Love you, Papa.” Jesse hung up thoughtfully, wondering what next weekend would bring.

  ***

  The old man dragged his bag through San Diego airport and stood waiting for the rental car bus, muttering to himself about the heat and humidity. It looked like the majority of folks were either government contractors or employees, with a few tourists also waiting for the rental buses, and he wondered what time they’d had to get up to make the early flights.

  The bus finally showed up and he shuffled on with the rest of the passengers, rode over to the actual rental office and picked up his compact car. At least the sumbitch isn’t a Geo Metro, he thought, as he threw his bag in the trunk of the Toyota rental, dug out his 1911 holster and magazines out of the hard case, and loaded them up. Slipping the holster onto his belt, he put his badge just forward of the holster on his belt. He thought for a second, then took off his jacket, laid it carefully on top of his bag, and closed the trunk.

  Once he got the mirrors and seat set to his liking, he picked up the map and spent a minute orienting himself and figuring out where he was going. A half hour and two wrong turns later, he pulled into the CBP offices in Chula Vista. There weren’t many open parking spaces, and he finally found one all the way in the back of the lot.

  Opening the trunk, he slipped his jacket back on, settled his Stetson on his head and walked slowly toward the main entrance, noting the security cameras and limited access to the building. He stepped into the reception area, and a young Hispanic lady asked if she could help him. He said, “Yes ma’am, Captain Cronin, Pecos County, I’m here for a meeting with Chief Ray Macon. I called from the airport.”

  She smiled, “Yes sir, I talked to you. The chief is waiting for you, please follow me.” She escorted him back through the labyrinth of offices to a corner office and knocked on the door. “Captain Cronin for you, sir.”

  Ray Macon stood up and the old man marveled at how large he was, then a memory kicked in. He remembered Macon from a course he’d taught six or seven years earlier in El Paso, and chuckled, “Bucky said to tell the ‘Stache’ he says hello.”

  Macon laughed, “It figures. He still the same smart ass he’s always been? Come on in!” He walked around the desk and stuck out a hand the size of a ham. The old man shook and Macon motioned him to the couch, “Coffee?”

  The old man replied, “I’ll never turn down coffee. Well, maybe airline coffee.”

  Macon laughed again, “Yeah, don’t blame you there. I remember you. You taught us an investigation course over in El Paso.” He poured a mug of coffee and asked, “Cream? Sugar?”

  “Nope, black is fine with me. I remember you, too. I didn’t realize you’d moved over here.”

  Macon folded himself into a chair with his coffee, “I came in to help set up the smuggling interdiction group, about four years ago and headed it until early this year. Now, for my sins, I’m in charge of the whole mess.”

  The old man nodded, “Heard about that. Y’all kinda pioneered that group concept. This sector has the biggest smuggling problem on the entire border, right?”

  “Did have! We put the kibosh on a good bit of it, and we just started a new program called Stronghold, going after terrain they like to use, and using targeted enforcement teams against both the cartels and Chinese.” Macon said with a little smile.

  The old man leaned back, “So, what do you want me to cover tomorrow?”

  Macon said, “Well, I was thinking mainly vehicle and general smuggling. I’m sending my marine guys over to sit in on the Coast Guard brief Wednesday. I’ve got a few vehicles here we’ve confiscated, if you want to look them over.”

  “Marine? And I’ll be happy to look at what you’ve got.”

  Macon rolled his eyes, “Yeah, marine patrol with boats and everything. My AOR goes all the way to the Oregon border! I’ve got supervisors coming in from LA, San Fran and Salem to sit in and take the lessons back to their folks.”

  The old man shook his head, “Damn, I didn’t realize you had all that area! But that kinda explains the Chinese interest, right?”

  “Yeah, that and people smuggling. Chinese do a lot of that.”

  ***

  The next morning the old man stood in front of a packed conference room, sipping his coffee as he waited for Agent Macon to put in an appearance. He was struck by the number of Hispanic agents in the sector, and was glad to see it. That gives them a leg up on dealing with the Mexicans trying to come across. I’m betting they get more information than any other officers.

  Macon made his introduction of the old man, telling the agents rather pointedly that he himself had been trained by Cronin, and that he was also sitting in on the class.

  The old man tapped the mic and chuckled, “Well, as you’ve heard, I’m John Cronin, and yes, I’ve been doing this for a while. Are the agents in the room that got the white stake bed and the red Chrysler outside?”

  He s
aw three hands go up and said, “Y’all did a helluva job on both those vehicles, and here’s why…”

  Eight hours and over 100 slides later, the old man finished with, “If there aren’t any further questions, I guess that’s it. Thank you for your attention today, and I hope I’ve given you a few more tools for your toolboxes while you’re on the line.”

  He got a round of applause, and Macon came up, shaking his hand, “I can’t thank you enough for coming down John. That was super! Thanks for taking the time to answer all the questions too. That’s usually where we get a breakdown, people come in, brief, and leave without taking questions. Also, appreciate your giving my folks a pat on the back. They don’t get much support from on high, but hearing it from somebody like you means something.”

  The old man nodded and said hoarsely, “No problem. Glad I could help out. Pardon me for not saying much, but I haven’t had to get up and talk that much for a long time. I think I’m going to pass on dinner too, I’m just going to go back and be quiet until I have to do this all over again tomorrow.”

  Macon nodded sympathetically, “Understood. I don’t blame you a bit, but I owe you a dinner.”

  ***

  The old man drove up to the gate at the Coast Guard station and showed his credentials to the guard, “I’m here to give a brief this morning.”

  The guard consulted a clipboard, “Yes sir, make a right, to the end of that street and pull into the circle in front of HQ, they have a parking spot reserved for you.” He handed the old man’s credentials back and waved him through.

  The old man found the parking spot with his name on it right next to the CO’s parking space. Pulling his briefcase out of the car, he walked slowly up the steps and through the front door. Just inside, he was met by a young petty officer, “Captain Cronin?” The old man nodded and the petty officer continued, “Please follow me, sir.” He led the old man upstairs and into the CO’s office, “Sirs, Captain Cronin.”

  The two officers turned and the old man realized he knew one of them, “Captain, err… Admiral Carson,” he exclaimed. “Now I know who’s responsible for getting me out here.”

  Admiral Carson laughed, “Damn right. I sat through your brief at Quantico a few years ago, and once I got here, I knew I wanted you to repeat that.’ He shook hands with the old man and said, “This is Mike Hubbard, he’s actually the CO here, but once I told him what I wanted, he was completely onboard with it.”

  “Captain Hubbard shook hands, “Welcome aboard sir. I understand from Agent Macon your briefing over there was well received, and he’s sending some of his folks to attend our briefing too.”

  The old man replied, “Thank you, sir. I’ve already given Ray a copy of this brief, so he has it for a file copy. I slanted this one more to the maritime side, figuring that would be the higher level of interest. Also I’ve added some VBSS information, although it may be out of date with your current procedures.”

  Admiral Carson said, “Nope, if it’s the same info you presented at Quantico, it’s still valid. Coffee?”

  Over coffee and donuts, the Admiral and old man caught up on their respective lives as Captain Hubbard listened. Finally he said, “Well, it’s about time. If you’re ready Captain?”

  The old man nodded, and the three of them proceeded to the small auditorium on base. The old man was startled when a young voice yelled, “Attention on deck!” Everyone stood up and the old man realized he was supposed to be following the admiral and captain. He caught up quickly, but noted the strange looks he was receiving as he walked down the aisle.

  The captain peeled off and took a seat in the first row, next to Agent Macon. The old man nodded at him as he followed the admiral onto the stage. The admiral said, “Seats.” After everyone was settled, he continued, “Ladies and gentlemen, I want to introduce Captain John Cronin. He’s a deputy sheriff out of Pecos County, Texas. You’re probably wondering, what the hell is a deputy sheriff from Texas going to teach me?”

  After a few appreciative chuckles he went on, “I first met him over thirty years ago, when he was working with the DEA. He’s an FBI resource on smuggling and methods of concealment. He’s also had some experience with VBSS. One that he was directly involved in, lead to saving twenty-two lives and the capture of millions of dollars’ worth of heroin over in Thailand.”

  The old man said, “Thank you Admiral, but I think your career’s gone a little further than mine.” More chuckles from the audience, “I’m not up here to tell you how to drive the boat, but I do want to talk about smuggling and techniques we’ve seen.”

  With that, he launched into his briefing. After four hours, and a quick lunch break, he did another two hours and answered questions for over an hour. By the end of the day, he was even hoarser, and his feet were hurting. The old man, along with Ray Mason, Captain Hubbard and Admiral Carson retired to the CO’s office and the old man sank gratefully into the couch.

  The admiral handed him a cup of coffee saying, “Can’t thank you enough Captain. That was outstanding! Even better than the briefing at Quantico. Hearing the details about the Thai raid had the hair on the back of my neck standing up. You guys have more balls than sense.”

  The old man smiled, “Or are dumber than a box of rocks… I still haven’t decided which.” That brought a round of laughter, and Macon and Captain Hubbard smiled at each other. The old man looked at them, as Macon stood and reached behind his chair.

  He handed the old man a package, “It’s not much, but a little thank you from us grunts on the front lines of the border battle. The Coasties even kicked in.” He said with a smile.

  The old man shook it and it gurgled, prompting him to smile, opening it he said, “Damn guys, if this is the payoff, I’ll do this every month! Can’t beat good Macallan, much less the twenty-five year old stuff! Thank you!” Glancing at his watch he asked, “How long will it take me to get up to Pendleton?”

  Macon looked up at the clock and grimaced, “This time of day, you’re looking at an hour, maybe more if there are any wrecks on five.”

  The old man stood up and stretched, rolling his shoulders, “Well, I hate to cut this short, but I promised my granddaughter I’d be up there by six for supper. I guess I better start trotting my happy ass that way.” Shaking hands all around he said, “I hope y’all got your money’s worth out of me, and I hope it helps the folks out there on the pointy end of the counter-narcotics and smuggling teams.”

  Admiral Carson replied, “I can state that you did make a difference, and we will be using what you showed us today. I’m also going to contact SAC Milton and thank him for getting you out here.”

  Agent Mason said, “That goes double for us, Captain. You’ve helped both my groups of agents, and maybe saved a few lives down the road. Thank you!”

  ***

  Two hours later, he pulled into the parking area at the apartment. Getting out, he started to walk up to the door, but turned around and got the bottle of scotch out of the trunk. Might as well enjoy it here, and leave it here. I know damn well it’d never make it back to Texas in my luggage. He heard barking as he got close to the door, and it was pulled open by Jesse, one hand on Boo Boo, “Papa! You finally made it! Come on in. Boo Boo, sit!”

  He slid in the door, gave Jesse a quick hug and said, “I was wondering if I’d ever get here. Damn traffic is a mess out here! Boo Boo had stopped barking, and was now whining, wanting attention, and Jace started crying in the crib. Boo Boo ran to Jace, then back to the old man and both of them laughed. The old man said, “Can’t make up your mind, can you dog?” But he relented and ruffled Boo Boo’s fur as Jesse picked up Jace.

  The old man looked at Aaron as he walked in the door a few minutes later, “Damn Aaron, you look like you’ve been beat with a stick.”

  Aaron sagged onto the couch, “It’s a rough patch right now, sir.”

  The old man pressed him, “Rough patch?’

  Aaron replied, “Yeah, I busted my prosthetic, and I’m having some issues wi
th the new company commander. He doesn’t like me, because of something that happened back in oh-three. But I’ll work through it, sooner or later.”

  Jesse handed Aaron a big glass of water and watched him gulp it down, “Doc says he needs to hydrate as much as possible to try to keep the swelling down. And he’s not supposed to be pushing as hard as he is.”

  Aaron looked up, “Thanks, but you know I gotta lead by example. Sitting on my ass in the office and telling people what to do isn’t my style, nor is it the Corps’ style.”

  The old man shook his head, “Sounds like somebody is trying to make a name for himself. Y’all ready to get some dinner?”

  Aaron shoved himself up off the couch, “Give me time for a quick shower and a change of clothes.” He headed down the hall and Jesse watched him sadly.

  “Worried about him?”

  Jesse nodded as she fed Jace, “I am. There is something else going on, but Aaron’s not talking. I’m worried he’s really going to hurt himself trying to prove whatever it is this captain thinks Aaron needs to prove.” Jesse looked at the old man, “When are you heading back?”

  The old man replied, “Tomorrow morning. This is on Uncle’s dime, so I can’t stretch it.”

  Jesse shrugged, “Well, at least we get to have dinner with you. That’s better than nothing.”

  Fifteen minutes later, Aaron walked back into the living room, “I’m ready when y’all are.”

  Medical Boards

  Monday afternoon, Jesse handed Aaron the official envelope when he walked through the door, “This came for you in the mail. I don’t know what it is, but I think you probably need to open it.”

  Aaron distractedly patted Boo Boo as she nuzzled his leg, then slumped at the dining room table, “It’s an official USMC, wait, this says Department of the Navy. What the hell?” Tearing the manila envelope open, he pulled out a half-inch thick set of documents. Jesse picked Jace up and took him back to their bedroom to change him, leaving Aaron to read whatever was in the documents, figuring it wasn’t any of her business.