by Bob Blink
Mathews! Graper didn’t know why the name had triggered, but he remembered someone named Mathews had been the supposed sniper that had prevented Kerns and LoBue from being killed. When Graper had checked into Carlson after the committee disbanded after the investigation on the attempted assassination, he’d discovered they had been looking for a shooter named Mathews for a long time. There was something odd about the missing Mathews. Something about his targets always being individuals who might have been planning some kind of killings of their own.
Could there be a relationship between Mathews and this contractor Trask? He’d need to look into this deeper. He had never fully regained his position with his friends in the Mob after the Kerns thing fell apart. That should have been an easy killing. He’d known where Kerns was going to be, and knew of the meeting with Lobue. The killing had been planned with great care due to its importance. Then everything had fallen apart because of some sniper no one had ever heard of. If there was a link, and he revealed it to his friends in the Mob, it might help his stature with them.
“Mom,” Graper shouted. He’d have to see what his mother really remembered. None of this made sense, but there was something odd going on here, and he needed to find out what it was or it would bother him forever. He wouldn’t say anything. Not yet. What he was thinking was too far out to express without some kind of proof. He’d see what he could learn first.
Chapter 35
“I have a little bit more information on that situation in Newport News,” Carlson said.
It was Tuesday morning and, as usual, Jake and Laney were meeting with Carlson in her office before the daily meeting with the rest of the team. The agents involved in the stake-out in the city three hours to the south had called her in the afternoon the day before with news that someone from the warehouse had made a trip to one of the local marinas. Carlson in turn, had informed Jake and Laney of the event. The action was the first unusual event since the FBI agents had started watching the facility down there. It was nice to finally see something happening. There had been little activity over the weekend.
“The man they trailed went to the Marine Shores Marina,” Carlson said. “According to the registry, the yacht he visited, the East Wind, is a ten year old boat, sixty-five feet in length.”
“That couldn’t have come cheap,” Jake observed. He didn’t know much about yachts and sailing beyond the fact the cost of the things went up exponentially with size. At sixty-five feet the term boat seemed to understate what they might be dealing with.
“That would be consistent with where he is docked,” Laney said. “My brother used to say anything with the word marine in its description had to cost five times the normal price. The name of the marina has marine in it twice. It has to be an expensive place.”
“The owner of the yacht is Toby Widner,” Carlson continued. “He was an investor who made a lot of money during the nineties when the Nasdaq was on a tear. He retired in his thirties. This is his second boat. He apparently found he likes the life, living on board with a plentiful supply of young ladies who are anxious to sail on a luxury yacht. He moves up and down the coast as the mood moves him. Up until fairly recently he was parked in Florida.”
“I believe the term is berthed,” Jake injected.
“Florida,” Laney mused. “Not the same marina as our suspicious friend Masud ibn Tahir al-Baghdadi?”
“Bingo,” Carlson said with a smile.
“Does this Toby Widner have a criminal record?” Jake asked.
“Nothing important,” Carlson said. “He has been cited for the use of pot a couple of times, and several overly loud parties on his yacht. Nothing else.”
“You said that the agents who followed the visitor couldn’t tell what it was about?” Laney asked.
“That’s right. Apparently a young man, we are still trying to discover who he is from the photos taken, visited the yacht for a brief time. He carried nothing in or out that could be seen, so if he was passing or collecting something it was small enough that it could easily be concealed in his person. The suspicions of the watchers is he carried a message of some sort.”
“Laney and I need to go back down there,” Jake suggested.
Carlson nodded. “I figured you might feel that way. One of the agents did some checking yesterday after I spoke with him. There is an empty parking slot, a berth,” she corrected looking at Jake, “that is only a short distance from where the East Wind is located. According to our agent, it has a reasonably good view of the East Wind. I had him rent it. We have apparently located a boat in the area we can use and have a couple of FBI agents who are familiar with sailing who will pretend to be the owners. It is a much smaller craft, something just over forty foot, but it should allow them to watch without attracting so much attention.”
“When will this boat of yours be in place?” Jake asked.
“It should be in the marina by the time you and Laney can drive down there.”
“You are moving pretty quick given we aren’t certain this Widner is involved,” Laney noted.
“I’ve come to know Jake fairly well,” Carlson said. “Something in his voice when I told him about the marina yesterday told me this was important. I think if it had been a false lead, he’d have said something at the time.”
Jake nodded his respect. “The last time around we took too much time. I had to back-track so we could get something going in time to be there at the right time. I’m impressed,” he said.
“I appreciate that,” Carlson said, “but reassure me. Are we really on track to stop these people on time?”
Jake and Laney had stayed for the daily meeting. They wanted to be there when Carlson briefed the team on the events in Newport News and hear what else had developed over the past twenty-four hours. There was no hurry getting to the marina. Until the borrowed boat was in place, a couple more agents trying to look inconspicuous weren’t going to help.
After a couple of days of no activity, possibly because of the weekend and not wanting to appear conspicuous as a result, the team at the factory had made an additional installation. The assigned team, including Don Graper, who never looked in Jake’s direction, reported that a half dozen canisters had been carted into various buildings on the Georgetown University campus. The hazardous materials squad was currently in the process of removing the canisters and rendering them harmless, while additional agents had been tasked to check out the remaining buildings at the University, and then to move on to other colleges in the area.
Carlson asked that the Miami office be contacted, and someone checkout whether Toby Widner and Masud ibn Tahir al-Baghdadi were known to be associates. Raul reported no luck in locating the elusive Abdul-Khabir ibn Barir.
When Jake and Laney arrived at the Marine Shores Marina late in the afternoon, they found the berth that Carlson had directed them to occupied by an older, yet still impressive boat. The Lazi Daze was crewed by three FBI agents. Two of the agents were female in their late twenties, currently relaxing on the deck in bikinis, while the supposed owner was a fifty-something year old with graying hair who apparently sailed as a hobby, sometimes crewing on boats of this size. He was currently relaxing with a cold beer.
Jake and Laney were welcomed aboard. They weren’t dressed as agents. That was part of the delay in getting down here. Both had to change into clothing that would be more appropriate for someone planning a few days on the water, which in Jake’s case meant a quick bit of shopping. Once on board, Jake changed from the jeans and sports shirt into a pair of colorful knee length shorts and a Ron Jon shirt. He joined the others on deck, and while cooling off with a cold Sam Adams, was given a quick briefing on the situation. Jason Fenner, their ‘captain’, and the two women, Lori and Carla had already been introduced.
“In addition to the usual group that lives on board, they had a visitor earlier today,” Fenner explained. “He was spotted arriving by the agents Carlson sent down here a couple of days ago. He might be someone of interest. Supposed
ly he looked Middle Eastern.”
“Khabir?” Laney asked, his eyes alert and hopeful.
“Don’t know,” Fenner replied. “They took some pictures, but he had on a big hat, and even if they got something useful, he may not be in the databases. That’s most likely, given the trouble I’ve heard they’ve had finding him. Unfortunately we don’t have any bugs on the yacht and the parabolic gear we have hidden below hasn’t been of much use. Topside, they never discuss anything, and the portholes are shut tight below decks. I don’t expect to hear much. They have commented on our arrival, however. Apparently we are in a high rent berthing area, and are not up to the usual standards.”
Jake nodded and let his eyes wander across the water to the larger yacht gleaming in the afternoon sun across the way.
“Who are you?” Jake asked Fenner.
Fenner grinned. “Rich kid. Inherited the family money and have spent the last decade trying to squander it away. I’m supposed to like the chicks and the casual marina life.”
Jake grinned. He could tell that Fenner was enjoying playing the role.
“How did the family make its money?” he asked.
“Internet, of course. What else these days?”
Jake was silent for a while, then he set the empty Sam Adams bottle into the holder on the chair and said, “Lori, why don’t we go for a walk?”
“Jake, what are you after?” Laney asked.
“I want to have a closer look,” Jake said, as Lori stood and nodded at his suggestion.
They headed off toward the marina store, a trip that required them to follow the dock in a loop that passed by the East Wind. They chatted like two new friends might, but half of Jake’s attention was focused on the yacht as they approached. The difference in size was far more apparent up close, and the main deck was considerably higher than that of the Lazi Daze they had just left. The bright white finish gleamed and reflected the afternoon sun. Instead of brass, the fixtures were mostly gleaming chrome. Jake wondered if that was acceptable to old time sailors, but looking around he saw that it was common. Maybe brass work was simply an expression.
They were just passing by the yacht when a deep voice reached them from above. Jake looked up into the face of the man who had presumably addressed them. Jake’s eyes were level with the man’s deck shoes. Beyond the shoes he could see a couple of young women stretched out on the deck getting a tan. One was a redhead, the other brunette. Both were topless, with no sign of the upper half of their suits anywhere. Jake forced his eyes higher, and looked into the face of the man who addressed them. The graying hair that was long and unkempt was the right age to be Toby Widner.
“Are you from the new arrival?” the man asked.
Jake had known the man would be curious, and felt it better to satisfy his interest right off.
“I didn’t come with it,” he said easily. “It belongs to a friend of mine. Said he was coming and I should come down for a few days of partying. I don’t know much about boats. I live here in Newport News. How about you?”
“Name’s Widner. Toby Widner. This is mine. I live aboard. Haven’t lived anywhere else for a long time.”
Widner looked at Jake closely.
“I’m a little surprised that Marty rented you that berth,” he said finally. “Your friend’s boat is a little out of its class for this part of the marina. Marty usually saves these berths for the large yachts.”
“You’d have to ask Jason about that,” Jake replied, “although he said he’s only going to be here a couple weeks and he’d had to pay a premium for the space because the marina was full.”
That was true. They’d been lucky there was a space at all, let alone one near the East Wind.
Widner grinned. “That sounds like Marty. He likes to keep the cash flowing in. Hey, since you’re going to be around, perhaps I can help get you introduced. I have to take a friend out Friday, but Friday night after we return we have a party planned. You and your friends are welcome.” He looked especially carefully at Lori who looked wonderful in her skimpy bikini.
“Thanks,” Jake replied. “I’ll pass the word to Jason.”
“I didn’t catch your name,” Widner said.
“Bob Trask,” Jake replied.
“Nice meeting you, Bob. I hope you can make it this Friday.”
Jake and Lori waved, and then continued on to the marina store where they bought a goodly supply of beer, something Jake decided would be appropriate for recent arrivals. Then they walked back to the Lazi Daze. When they passed the East Wind, Widner and his lady friends were nowhere to be seen.
“When did he say he was going out?” Laney asked later when Jake and Pati summarized the conversation.
“This Thursday,” Jake said. “The day after tomorrow.”
Lori looked at him oddly. “I didn’t hear that. I’m sure he said Friday.”
“He said Friday, but he’ll actually be going Thursday,” Jake said positively. “We need to prepare appropriately. I’d like to plant a tracker on the hull of that yacht. I don’t suppose we have scuba gear on board and someone who knows how to use it?” he asked. Then he looked at Laney. “Tomorrow you and I are going to rent a plane and have a look around.”
“Anything else we need to be doing?” Fenner asked. Carlson had told him that Laney would be in charge, but it appeared that Laney was willing to take direction from Trask, so he was willing to follow suit.
Jake nodded. “If Widner’s visitor leaves, have one of the stake-out team see where he goes. It would be too obvious if we were to follow him out of the marina. Widner is probably going to watch us much as we are watching him. We need to appear to be just what he expects.”
“Won’t he wonder why you and Laney disappear tomorrow?”
“We’ll come back with lots of supplies,” Jake replied. “He’ll think we simply went shopping.”
Later when Jake and Laney were alone in the cabin they would share, Laney asked, “Is Widner’s visitor our man?”
“Yeah,” Jake replied. “The stake-out crew will have established that by morning.”
“Who is he?”
“He’s the Controller,” Jake said, deciding it was time to bring Laney in on a few things. “He’s the one who tracks the locations of all the canisters for Masud ibn Tahir al-Baghdadi and controls the trigger for the release of the toxins.”
“So this Masud character is behind this whole thing after-all?”
“He’s one of them,” Jake replied non-committally.
“There’s a reason you don’t want to arrest Khabir yet? Put an end to this whole thing.”
“If we did, we wouldn’t get the information we want. It’s on a laptop he carries, but it’s encrypted most of the time and even our best people would take a very long time getting to it, if it weren’t erased before we could save it. We need to stay on program. Besides, there’s more to learn.”
“Shouldn’t we contact Carlson?”
“The stake-out team will do that. We’ll call her after we take our ride tomorrow.”
Chapter 36
They were waiting at the run-up area adjacent to their designated runway. Jim Laney was the pilot in control of the Cessna, while Jake worked the radios for their exchanges with the control tower. Laney had taxied the TR182 Turbo smoothly and expertly from the rental area to this location. For a pilot with barely two years of flying experience he had done well, although Jake, a far more experienced pilot, could sense the other’s nervousness.
Jake had more hours in the 182 than any other aircraft other than the Corvalis he’d once owned. He felt a momentary ache for the beautiful plane he left unclaimed when the Mathews’ name associated with it had become too dangerous to be linked to. Jake wasn’t the pilot today, despite the fact he was far more experienced. For one thing, Bob Trask, the name Jake was operating under as Carlson’s consultant had never qualified as a private pilot, and even Jake Waters who was an accredited pilot wasn’t current, nor did he have the documentation to demonstrate
he had the hours and ability to fly the plane.
Laney and Jake had spent the morning getting Laney approved to rent the plane from the flying club at the Norfolk International Airport. The flying club actually had two of the Cessna 182’s, the turbo-charged version they were sitting in, and a standard version. The other plane would have done just as well, except someone else had taken it out of the area for a few days. The operator of the rental service had been somewhat reluctant to release the nearly new airplane to a pilot he didn’t know with so few hours on the model. Laney had had to demonstrate his proficiency by submitting to a test flight with the instructor-pilot earlier in the day. He’d done well enough to pass, but what had finally swayed the operator of the rental service was Jake’s revelation that he had hundreds of hours in the plane, and while technically no longer current, would be in the plane with Laney to assist should the need arise. Jake agreed to demonstrate his own efficiency, and after a short ride with the instructor, who could see how at ease and familiar Jake was with the plane, they were given approval. They rented the plane for three consecutive days, with a guarantee of a minimum of ten hours flying time.
Now it was time to go. Jake had mapped out a reconnoitering flight of the area, a part of the country he didn’t know at all, or at least hadn’t until they had done this the last time. A refresher wouldn’t hurt him, and he wanted Laney to experience the search for reasons of his own. The memories of this flight weren’t something that would be lost due to a loop back, and actually would affect an effort the two men would be engaged in a couple of months from now.
Jake keyed the microphone. “Norfolk tower, Cessna seven three three six November is ready for takeoff.”
The tower responded crisply, both Laney and Jake able to hear through their headsets. “Three six November is cleared for takeoff, one four right. Maintain runway heading through two thousand five hundred.”
