by Jack Huber
“Right, I forgot I told you about those visits. Yes, she hinted that we’re not taking enough precautions. I’m thinking that she was right.”
“What do you mean?”
“I don’t know. We’re taking a lot for granted — depending on a single source, without corroboration. We assume it’s going to be a poisoning. What if it isn’t?”
“We’ll have plenty of people there, no matter what happens.”
I went back to my bedroom, grabbed my phone and brought it back to the dining table and my coffee. “Did Henson or Greco give you their numbers?”
“Yeah, they each gave us their cards, remember?”
“Oh, yeah. Do you have Henson’s card around here?”
Jimmy rifled through his pockets and when he didn’t find the card anywhere, he pulled out his wallet and located it among the greenbacks in the billfold section. He handed it to me saying, “Here you go.”
“Thanks.” I found the cell phone number and dialed it.
“Special Agent Henson,” he answered with heavy breathing. “Who is this?”
“This is Pat Ruger. Am I calling too early?”
“No, not at all. I’m on my morning run. I do about six or seven miles a day.” He seemed to catch his breath and asked, “What’s up?”
“We have a couple of concerns about the operation tomorrow. Can we discuss it?”
“Sure. Shoot.”
“Well, for one thing, how are you corroborating your inside guy’s info? How do we know it’s legit?”
“I trust John completely. He and I have a history together. Like you and James.”
“Is that all? You trust him?”
“I understand your concern. Anthony is also working with our office techs to track cars and phones, view video … Hell, they’ve even been eavesdropping on some of the family’s conversations. All with John’s help.”
“Okay, I get it.” I thought about what he said. “Why do we need all those agents and police? Can’t we just wait until the crew and passengers are all on board, find the poison and arrest whoever has it?”
“C’mon, Ruger. You know we need them to make the attempt. They’ll get far more charges and longer sentences if they actually use the poison than if we prevent it.” He paused and added, “Maybe even federal charges — if they work it right.”
“Well, then, can I make some recommendations?”
“I’ll listen to anything you want to suggest. What is it?”
I cleared my throat and took a sip of my black coffee. “Sir, I’m retired but have overseen or been involved in many of these types of ops over the years. There’s something off, I’m not sure what it is. So, I’d like to suggest that the police and your agents who are not undercover board upriver a mile or two, assuming we can find a suitable dock up there, then head to the home dock to board the bulk of the crew and the patrons. That way, if any of the family’s people are on the crew, they won’t really know it’s happening.”
“That makes sense. Consider it done. Anything else?”
“I think we should be prepared for anything. Things could go wrong handling the poison or they might decide on something else prior to the cruise. They aren’t going to let this opportunity pass, even if things go awry. That means flak jackets and gas masks under all the tables, and anything else we can think of.”
Henson harrumphed. “We were doing some of that already but I’ll make sure we make all common-sense preparations for this. It’s a big opportunity for us as well. We’re not going to blow it.”
“How did Rutledge take it? Is he on board?”
“He’s really nervous. I’m considering getting him offboard as soon as he makes an appearance.”
“If he’s nervous, you may have to,” I said. “Please call if you need anything else from us. Otherwise, we’ll meet you at Ronin’s offices tomorrow morning.”
“Thanks, will do.”
We hung up and I took a sip of coffee, which was now lukewarm. I stood and set the cup in the microwave, hitting the 30-second button twice.
“Well?” Jimmy asked.
“He took me seriously, I think. We’ll find out tomorrow.”
“I hope so. What do you want to do between now and then? I’m pretty anxious.”
I thought for a minute, then smiled. “I would love to take you fishing. Let’s go rent a boat and fish the day away at Priest Lake! I was hoping to get out there and get some fishing in sometime while I was in the area.”
“I don’t know … We don’t have fishing licenses.”
I laughed. “Haven’t you ever rented a fishing boat? They’ll sell you the license right in the bait shop.”
“Let’s make it a bass boat so we can buzz the cute women on the lake.”
“What are you, 16?”
“Today, I am.”
Chapter 18
The next day Jimmy and I met up with the team at the Nashville PD and went over the details of the plan. Thankfully, they had decided to board the below-deck personnel at a golf course a few miles upstream from the Mayhem’s main dock. The plainclothes group, which would board with the steamboat crew at the passenger dock, consisted of about 30 officers and agents.
Everyone had black duffel bags containing equipment, including flak vests, portable gas masks, night vision monoculars, earwigs, first aid kits and zip ties. This group was instructed to wear the flak vests if they could comfortably do so beneath their evening clothes. Otherwise, they’d bring them along and store everything under the tables. They were informed that there were no bag checks or metal detectors at the dock for boarding.
The meeting broke up and the tactical team members, about 20 in all, agreed to meet at the golf course dock at 2 p.m. sharp.
Greco approached us and said, “Hey guys, we’ve got a favor to ask.”
“Okay,” I replied. “What is it?”
“We were wondering if Jimmy would play Peter Rutledge. He’s almost a dead ringer for him. Look.” He held up his phone’s screen that had a profile pic of someone who actually did look a lot like Jimmy.”
“He’s a handsome devil, isn’t he?” Jimmy said, laughing. “I can see why you want me to play him.”
“Will you do it or not?”
“Of course. Sounds like fun.”
Greco bristled a bit. He turned to me and said, “I have a new respect for you, having this guy as a partner all those years.”
I laughed and replied, “He kinda grows on you. You just need to be around him more.”
The large agent grimaced and said, “No, thank you! He’s all yours.”
“Hello? I’m right here.” Jimmy feigned being hurt in the heart.
“Let’s get the show on the road, people!” Henson called out.
Those that were still hanging around didn’t necessarily hustle but did become purposeful in their activities before leaving soon thereafter.
In the afternoon we waited at the golf course for the Mayhem to dock, then climbed aboard. There was a skeleton crew, supposedly vetted by Henson and Greco, and the dynamic duo joined us and a couple dozen agents on the second deck below. We shoved off and waited somewhat impatiently but quietly the 45 minutes to get to the main dock. I was getting nervous. It had been a few years since I was in a police operation like this.
I peeked through the upstairs door — I had been corrected during our preparations not to call it a “hatch” unless it was an opening through a deck — next to the dining room and watched as the rest of the crew boarded, then the so-called passengers were brought aboard. The female undercover patrons carried large purses or small backpacks which were stored under the tables they were escorted to. Some of the younger male cops also toted backpacks, which were stowed as well.
Mr. Rutledge was seated but then excused himself to visit the restroom, where Jimmy was waiting. They evidently exchanged clothing because Jimmy returned in Rutledge’s wardrobe. There was a small tug moored along the back side of the riverboat, and the plan was for that boat to take the rea
l Rutledge to safety.
Jimmy looked comfortable chatting with the fake passengers and the operation seemed to be going smoothly. As the Mayhem left the dock soft jazz began playing over the loudspeakers. The music could just barely be heard over the engine’s noise and the ship’s rattling.
Once down the river a few miles, the Mayhem slowed to a stop, its engine just keeping the ship in place there against the river flow. Wait staff began bring food out, which was unexpected since the agents in the galley had been waiting for the poisoning to take place. At that time the charade should have ended with the perps taken into custody. I stepped back into the hallway where Henson was waiting and asked about it. Greco had been watching the activities in the galley and the team there had apparently missed seeing any contamination.
Suddenly, we heard a shout from the dining room, “Gas!” We and everyone with us in the hallway immediately slipped on gas masks and pulled out our handguns. My Ruger felt reassuring in my hand as I leapt into the room, which was filled with smoke and a lot of shouting. Several of those undercover had also donned their masks and had four staff members on the floor with guns pointed at their heads. I went to locate Jimmy and found him on the floor without his mask on. I found it nearby and slipped it on over his face.
“Any paramedics here?” I yelled.
“Yes, over here,” someone replied in a muffled voice. “I’m headed your way.” A young man arrived shortly with a medical bag, from which he took a stethoscope and placed one end on Jimmy’s chest. “He sounds okay but we need to get him to the ER until we know what was in this gas.”
I noticed then that the Mayhem’s engines had revved up and we seemed to be heading back to its home slip. Once there, a medical crew rushed over with a gurney and whisked Jimmy away.
“Don’t worry,” the young man said through his mask as they left. “We’ll take good care of him.”
“Is this all?” I called out to Greco, who had entered the fray.
“Not sure,” was the answer. “I think two of them went to the back of the boat, outside.”
I joined him at the outside door and we headed aft. There we found two men dressed in crew uniforms and ultra-sleek, modern gas masks standing with their hands raised. The Anglo gentlemen were at the far back of the boat right in front of the paddlewheel, which was still turning even though we were stopped and moored. Ronin was also there, his gun pointed at the two. He took his mask off, then had the captives remove theirs. Greco and I removed ours, then the agent walked close to the men and leaned over them.
“You are under arrest for 32 counts of attempted murder,” he cited. “And, since you used chemical weapons in a terrorist attack, you won’t see the light of day for a long time, gentlemen.”
The taller and older of the two men smiled. “We’ll see.”
“What does that mean?”
“Phone call,” the smiling perp replied. “One call will clear this whole thing up for you.”
“Okay,” Greco said. “I’ll play.” He took out his cell phone and asked for the number.
“(792) 504-1446. Tell ‘em it’s Vic.”
He dialed the number and talked for a minute, then turned to hand me the phone. “She’s asking for you.”
“Who?” I took the phone and said, “This is Pat Ruger. Who am I speaking to?”
“Andilee Marchetti. Hi, Pat!”
Chapter 19
“Marchetti? You’re a Marchetti?”
Lee giggled, “I sure am, Pat. What’s the matter?”
She sounded like she was gloating, as if she had pulled one over on everyone. She had and I decided to try to use that.
“I gotta give you credit,” I said with a conciliatory tone. “You had a lot of people fooled, me included. Was that the plan from the beginning? Make fools of us all?”
“No, silly,” she replied with some glee. “I’m just doing what my uncle asked me to do. Get in with the gang and do what I was told. You weren’t a part of any of that. Sorry.”
“No reason to be sorry. I just wanted to make sure you knew that you were marvelous. Really. The Flaks never knew what hit them. Are they all dead? Is that why you were out in Chattanooga when all that happened?”
“Well, I don’t know about any of that,” she replied in a more serious voice. “I did give my uncle’s crew the highlights, though — how to get in, where the cameras were, you know, all the stuff they needed. Then they had me run to Chattanooga until everything was over. I had an idea of what that meant, but … The reason I called,” she said, changing the subject. “I’m with Bonnie, here in Atlanta. We’re getting along famously.”
I couldn’t believe this was happening. I had completely forgotten that I had sent her with Bonnie. I punched the hands-free button on the phone and held it in front of me, Ronin and Greco, but stepped away from the two perpetrators a short distance to lessen what they could hear. “I hope that’s good,” I said.
“Oh, very good. Here’s the thing. The FBI has a couple of my cousins in custody and I really need them released.”
I paused and thought for a moment. I hit the mute icon and asked Greco, “Can your people track this phone call and if they are in Atlanta, get to them?”
“Good idea,” he answered. “Keep her talking.”
I hit mute again to turn back on the mic. “The FBI has a couple dozen of your family’s henchmen in custody. Which two were you talking about?”
“The one who just had you call me, who’s with you right now, Vic Perrino. We need him and his brother, Justin, released right away.”
“Why only these two when we have so many others in custody?”
“The others aren’t blood related. They’ll be well-compensated for their time and … inconvenience. Vic and Justin are family, and I’m willing to trade Bonnie for them.”
“What? Are you sure she’s okay?”
“She’s fine. Want to talk to her?”
“That would be great.” I looked up at Greco, who had stepped away and was on another phone.
“Pat?” Bonnie said. “Are you alright?”
“I was about to ask you the same thing. Where are you guys?”
“I’m not sure,” she replied. “Somewhere south of the Atlanta City Center. There’s another thug with us ...”
“That’s enough,” Lee interrupted. “Now you know she’s okay. Will you set my cousins free?”
“That’s not my call,” I replied. “You know I’m retired, right? I’m not part of any police department or federal agency.”
“I know — but you can make it happen. Bonnie says you are an independent contractor and can get things done.”
I paused, trying to take as much time as possible.
“Pat?”
“Sorry, just trying to figure out how to make this happen.”
“You have the FBI and the police there with you, right?”
Ronin leaned in and asked, “How will we know that you’ll set Bonnie free when we release them?”
“Oh, good,” she said, half laughing. “You’re negotiating. Look, Bonnie has given me a pretty good idea that Pat will find me if we hurt her. I just met him, really, but he seems like that kind of guy. So, let’s just say I don’t want to take that chance. You release my cousins, I’ll let Bonnie go on her merry way.” She paused for a moment and added, “I’ll tell you what. Think about it for an hour and call me back with an answer.” She abruptly hung up.
I looked over at Greco and he shook his head. “What are you going to do?”
He grabbed my arm and pulled me farther away from the paddlewheel and the brothers. In a lowered voice he said, “Well, we have an interesting piece of software that will give us their location pretty quickly.”
I was starting to feel tight. “What software?” I asked, also keeping my voice down.
“It will turn on her phone, as long as she doesn’t have the battery removed. Now that we have her number and approximate location, it shouldn’t take long to lock in to it. We’ve been quite
successful in tracking down people since we started using it. We just need a warrant, but under the circumstances that’s a formality.”
An idea came to me and I whispered to Greco, “You have those GPS trackers that can be swallowed?”
“Yes,” he answered quietly. “Our field agents use them in the field because the devices can’t be found easily if the agents are captured.”
“How soon can you get a half-dozen of them here?”
“I can have some sent over immediately, say, in a half hour.”
“Perfect. Do it.”
He started to argue, and I looked at the brothers sitting on the deck. He stopped, and smiled when he figured out what I was planning. “Very good.”
A thin female emergency medical tech walked over to us and removed her mask. She stopped in front of Greco and stated, “It was a derivative of hydrogen sulfide. Usually it’s an invisible gas that works to shut down a person’s breathing ability — glad everyone was wearing masks — but this had another chemical mixed in to create a fog, probably so the perpetrators could see where the gas was, or wasn’t. We’ve set up fans to blow it off the boat in a much less concentrated form.”
“Is that safe?” Greco asked.
“Yes, but I’d still wear a gas mask when you’re in that dining room.”
“Will my friend be okay?” I asked, concerned about Jimmy. “He didn’t get his mask on in time.”
“I think we got to him in time to prevent serious injury. With a few days of treatment, he should recover nicely.”
“Thanks,” Greco said and the tech returned to the dining room. To me he said, “I should give the detective a heads up.”
I nodded and took my turn watching Vic and his brother while the big man quietly gave Ronin an update on everything. Greco then walked forward and out of sight, and Ronin and I ushered Vic and Justin through the galley and into the riverboat’s office below deck. It had a nice large porthole but otherwise was very basic — no decor, just a desk, a half a dozen folding chairs, an adding machine, a printer, and a couple of short filing cabinets. The wallpaper was dark brown and looked like it hadn’t been updated in decades. Below deck and with only one door, I figured this would be a good room to safely wait.
