by Alan Cook
Drake knew the answer to his next question as soon as he asked it. “Why does Admiral Anderson think that the houses got shelled?”
His father looked surprised. “He said you saw shells being fired from a vessel.”
Bad news traveled fast and became exaggerated as it went. Drake had called Blade. Blade had contacted the military. The military pipeline apparently included retired admirals, like Anderson, and now his father. Drake knew one thing for sure. When he made his official report, he would have to word what he had actually seen very carefully and sign a document to that effect, if possible. Wars had been started because of inaccurate intelligence.
Something else puzzled Drake. “Why did you come here?”
“Isn’t the welfare of my son a good enough reason?”
No. It had never been before. Perhaps if he had followed in his father’s footsteps and attended Annapolis instead of enlisting in the army as a private, he would have won his father’s approval. As things stood, he was a failure in the old man’s eyes.
They were still standing in the middle of the lobby with Drake facing the entrance. He saw Slick open the door, stick his head in the doorway, and give a nod to indicate that he wanted to speak to Drake. So Slick was going to debrief him. He didn’t want Slick’s presence here to be generally known, not even by a retired admiral.
“I have to go to a meeting. Are you going to be around for a while, sir? You can have dinner with Melody and me.”
“Melody?” Admiral Drake smiled for the first time. “That’s right; Andy said she was your running partner. Always did like that girl. She’s got spunk. Unfortunately, I can’t make it. Andy and some of the other board members of Giganticorp are coming here. I’m having dinner with them. Maybe we can get together tomorrow. I’m staying overnight.”
Everybody was converging in Malibu. Events were getting curiouser and curiouser. Drake shook hands with his father and headed out of the motel. He saw a black Porsche sitting in the far corner of the parking lot and walked toward it.
***
Drake was sitting on a bed in the room belonging to Melody and Grace who were sitting on the other bed. He had told them both what he had seen or thought he had seen.
Grace looked scared. “Do you think we’re being attacked by the USSR?”
Melody patted her hand. “That’s not likely. If they attacked us, they wouldn’t just destroy a few houses.”
“But it says on TV—”
“You can’t believe everything you see on the telly. Unless…”
“Unless they want to get our attention,” Drake said. “Show us how vulnerable we are.”
“Why would they do that?” Grace asked.
“Negotiating ploy. We’ve been making noises about atrocities happening at the Berlin Wall. People trying to escape from East Germany getting shot. Maybe they just want to direct our attention elsewhere. Anyway, we’ve got destroyers sweeping the area looking for submarines. The marines have set up a machine gun on Malibu Beach and put out barbed wire.”
“Will we go to war with them?”
Melody was the one who answered, saying that she hoped there would be no war. Before dark they had seen a couple of the gray naval vessels off the beach. It brought back memories of Korea to Drake.
He decided it was a good time to change the subject. “We had the two notes you delivered to me checked for fingerprints. There is one unidentified set of prints on the first note, but it doesn’t belong to anybody at Giganticorp. The only prints on the second envelope are those of the desk clerk at that motel. The note doesn’t have any prints on it at all.”
“I’m glad my prints weren’t on them.” Grace didn’t ask how they had gotten the prints checked. She looked conspiratorial. “I have some information for you.”
She pulled a folded sheet of paper out of the pocket of her shorts and handed it to Drake.
“During the confusion today I was able to open Fred’s attaché case and look inside. Fortunately, he’s a neatnik, with all his folders labeled. I looked in one called ‘Personnel.’ It had three sheets in it, each one giving information about a man. I just had time to copy their names and telephone numbers and addresses.”
Drake looked at the handwritten names and numbers to make sure they were legible. He would pass these on to Blade and Slick.
“Good work. Just be careful. We don’t want you to get caught.”
Grace beamed. “I was careful. By the way, Drake, I understand that your father’s here. I’ve never met a real admiral. I’ve seen some at Giganticorp, but only from a distance.”
“Maybe you’ll get a chance tomorrow. He’ll like you. He’s got an eye for pretty ladies. Right now he’s out with his buddies telling war stories.” Drake realized he shouldn’t compliment Grace apart from Melody. He said to her, “I forgot to tell you that my father mentioned that he wanted to see you. He said you had spunk.”
“Better that than he said I stunk.”
CHAPTER 16
Today’s run is all on roads, so be extra careful to watch the traffic. It goes from Leo Carrillo Beach to Oxnard Beach Park in Oxnard. Start at Leo Carrillo Beach on Route 1 and run to Point Mugu. You will pass the Point Mugu missile display at Wood Road. Head north on Navalair Road and west on Hueneme Road. Along this stretch you will see many vegetable farms and fruit trees. Turn north on Ventura Road through the city of Port Hueneme and past the Seabee Museum. Head west on Channel Islands Boulevard and north on Harbor Boulevard to Oxnard Beach Park.
***
The memorial service for Harrison had taken place as promised by Casey, but not all of the runners had attended. Some had used the day off to visit their families. Drake didn’t blame them. He had barely known Harrison, himself, and although he attended the service, his main feeling was the “it could have happened to me” syndrome, which he had encountered in Korea when his buddies got shot. He didn’t feel the guilt of “why was I spared?” perhaps because it all seemed so unreal.
Today they were racing again. The disadvantage of running on roads was that the runners had to be constantly alert and often had to run single file. This resulted in them being even more spread out than usual. When Drake and Melody were able to run beside each other, they tried to make sense of what had happened.
Drake’s main questions concerned the response to the shelling. He took advantage of a wide area to pull up alongside Melody. “If you believe the commentators on TV, we’re already at war with the USSR. And yet, I haven’t heard that anybody saw anything more than I did, which was almost nothing.”
“Grace turned the telly on first thing this morning to watch the news. The report said no trace of any boat has been found. Supposedly there are ships patrolling the whole west coast, both Coast Guard and Navy.”
“Or at least a couple of destroyers. Since we’re fighting in Vietnam, we’re spread a little thin.”
“There was also talk that the military might occupy part of the coast. They’ve already sent a force of marines to Malibu, as you know. That’s in addition to the specialists combing the ruins of the houses for evidence as to what happened.”
“The locals must love all the attention. They’re always fighting to keep people off their beaches, and now they’ve got soldiers to contend with. They’d better lock up their daughters.”
“The reporter said the residents asked for the troops. They’re panicked and afraid that more shelling is going to occur. Or some sort of an invasion.”
“Be careful what you wish for. Maybe the commies have a kayak navy out there ready to storm the coast of Malibu. My question is, why did my father show up?”
Melody put on her most concerned voice. “He came to see if his little boy was all right.”
Drake snorted. “If I believed that, you could sell me London Bridge.”
“Too late. Lake Havasu already has it. That’s another thing you stole from us.”
“If we ‘steal’ many more things from you, you’ll be rich enough to buy back the coloni
es. As you’ll recall, when he was able to fit me into his schedule yesterday, instead of talking to me, my father made time with you.”
“And Grace. Who was thrilled out of her mind to meet a real admiral.”
“The feeling was mutual. There must be a shortage of women in Bakersfield. Maybe things would have been better if my mother hadn’t died.”
Melody nodded. “It’s hard to lose your spouse. Don’t you think he came to see his old military buddies?”
Drake pondered that. “As far as I know, Admiral Anderson is the only one he knows from his years in the navy. I don’t think they’re that close. I’ve heard my father say derogatory things about him.”
Melody took a drink of Gatorade while a semi rolled by; the noise from its powerful engine drowned out any attempt at conversation. Phil and Brian were running a few feet ahead of them. The wind stream that followed the truck blew the cap off Brian’s head. Drake considered ignoring it and making Brian come back and pick it up, but one thing his father had done was to train him in good manners. He reached down and grabbed the cap.
Brian waited for Drake to catch up with him and took the cap from his outstretched hand. He thanked Drake who decided to ask him a question. “What’s your take on what happened? Do you think it’s dangerous for us to run on the coast?”
Brian loped easily alongside them. He was one of the youngest runners and obviously in top condition. He and Phil were in second place overall.
“Naw. Even if that happens again, the chances we’ll be there when it does are infinitesimal.”
“Lightning can strike twice—”
“Life is a risky business.” Brian smiled. “Do you want to live forever?”
***
Casey had left for other climes sometime last night, according to Fred. Drake wanted to ask Casey about the meetings that had been held during the last two days. He was still trying to get a handle on what his father was up to. Why did he care? His father hadn’t cared much for him after he had strayed from the straight and narrow path carefully laid out for him. Why should he care what his father was doing?
Drake decided to ask Fred his questions. He offered to buy him a beer at the local Oxnard pub. Drake used the word pub instead of bar because Oxnard sounded a lot like Oxford in England. Being around Melody brought back the English mannerisms he had learned. Fred drove them a few blocks to a bar that was practically deserted in the late afternoon heat. Drake purchased two draft beers and took them to a rough wooden table Fred had selected.
He didn’t want Fred to know the extent of his estrangement from his father. That was none of his business. However, he could make a kind of joke out of it.
“I was wondering why my father was here meeting with your directors. He doesn’t confide in me very much. You know how fathers are.”
Fred smiled as he took a thirsty sip. “Actually, it wasn’t an official directors’ meeting since only four of the directors were present, including Casey. We’re always looking for opportunities to serve our country.”
“You’re looking for ways to boost your sales.”
“Same thing. The U.S. Government is our biggest customer.”
“What can you sell the government to fend off an invasion by sea?”
“My, you are inquisitive. One would think that you’re a stockholder.”
“I’m a taxpayer. I want to know where my tax money’s going.”
When Fred laughed, he jiggled all over like a plate of aspic salad. “We’ve developed a mini submarine that could be used to patrol the coast. It’s much less expensive to build and operate than a nuclear sub, of course, and only requires a crew of six. If there’s an enemy ship out there, these subs could be used to find it.”
“Have you sold any?”
“The Navy purchased a few to try out, but we’re trying to sell them a whole fleet.”
“What does my father have to do with all this? He’s retired, or supposed to be. He’s not a stockholder in Giganticorp, is he?”
“Giganticorp is privately held, and the names of our stockholders are confidential.”
Drake faked a yawn. “Okay, you’ve given me the company line; now tell me the truth.”
“My gosh, Drake, you’re persistent.” Fred’s smile was meant to be conspiratorial. “All right, here’s the scoop. No, Admiral Drake isn’t a stockholder. He’s a concerned citizen. He’s also a good friend of Senator Leffingwell.”
Drake didn’t know that. Leffingwell was a senator from California. Drake had tried to isolate himself from politics the last few years. His knowledge of the senator was sketchy. A small shaft of light penetrated his brain.
“He must be the member of a key Senate committee for approving military purchases.”
“You’re not as dumb as you look. There’s more. As you know, Casey is running for the other Senate seat next year.”
“He wants Leffingwell’s endorsement.”
“Bingo. Give that man a silver cigar.”
It made sense. Sort of. One thing still puzzled Drake. “How did you get my father to drive down here from Bakersfield on such short notice?”
“We told him what happened to you.”
“Nothing happened to me. It happened to Harrison and Danny.”
“No, I meant the accident with the truck. Of course, we also mentioned that you were close to the houses when they were shelled.”
“Wait a minute. You’re saying my father drove here because he was concerned about my welfare?”
“Yup.”
“I don’t believe you.”
“He’s your father, Drake. He loves you.”
“He’s got a funny way of showing it.”
Drake went to the bar and came back with two more beers. He was trying to think of how to broach the next subject. Perhaps the introduction of his father into the scheme of things gave him some leverage. He lifted his glass. “To a successful race.”
“Hear, hear.”
Fred clicked glasses with him. They each swallowed a mouthful of beer. Drake put down his glass. “I’d like to talk about something else for a minute. Since the run started, I’ve received two anonymous letters delivered to motels.”
Fred’s eyebrows went up. “Anonymous?”
His expression looked innocent.
“Yes. Threatening letters.”
“What did they say?”
“The more recent one says that Melody and I have to win the race.”
“What have you done with them?”
“The letters say not to tell anyone.”
“You’ve told me. Why don’t you give me the letters, and I’ll look into them?”
Drake no longer had the originals. Even if he had them, he wouldn’t have given them to Fred.
“I’ve stored them in a safe place. If anything happens to me, they’ll be turned over to the authorities.”
Fred regarded him. “Someone wants you to win the race.”
“You know how much chance there is of that.”
“You’ve moved into ninth place. A few more attacks and you’ll be in first place.”
Drake stared at Fred.
“Sorry. Bad joke. Look, if there’s anything I can do… I’ve tried to get you the best medical care, but I can’t run for you.”
“I just wanted you to know.”
Drake tried to look into Fred’s brain, but he was met with a bland expression that shielded his thoughts.
Fred spoke. “We’re going to step up the pace a little. Each day’s distance is going to be closer to a marathon. We don’t want to drag this out too long. Everybody’s reasonably healthy. I think you can handle it.”
“It’s not a problem for me.”
Drake wondered whether Fred had been keeping the distances down to favor him, just as Casey had ordained that the first day’s run wouldn’t count.
CHAPTER 17
Today’s run goes from Oxnard Beach Park to Carpenteria State Beach in Santa Barbara County. Start by heading north on Harbor Bouleva
rd. However, beginning today we’re going to let you decide when to run on the beach and when to run on a road. In some places along this stretch it may even be advantageous to run on the railroad tracks, but be careful of the spaces between the ties if you do this. Always watch for trains. The additional freedom should give more weight to individual tactics and make the race more competitive. Maybe we won’t see so much running by committee.
***
The handwritten sheets that Fred distributed to the runners each morning before they started bore the unmistakable flourishes of his big round hand. Whatever else you could say about Fred, he had beautiful handwriting. In addition, he wrote in distinctive green ink with a fountain pen, although you couldn’t tell that from the black and white copies that were usually produced at the motel where they stayed.
The runners were gathering in front of the motel in the early morning fog, a magician that made the beach disappear, waiting for Peaches to produce the bus that would take them to today’s starting point. Most wore sweatshirts over their running clothes that they would leave on the bus. They stretched and moved around, trying to get warm and loose. The other runners, including Melody, could stretch their bodies in ways that Drake could never hope to emulate. He was just trying to relax his back muscles so he wouldn’t have spasms.
Since it was only a few blocks to their starting point, they could easily have walked the distance, but Fred insisted that everybody be treated the same so they would get a fair start. Fred was all about fairness, thought Drake. Or was he? Wasn’t this change designed to help Melody and him? Give them an opportunity to break away from the pack by taking a different route? Of course it could backfire if they chose the wrong route. Drake shared the sheet with Melody, wanting to get her reaction.
“I’ll bet Tom and Jerry are in a funk about this.”
Drake was surprised. Only Tom and Jerry? He had been thinking too narrowly. It was true. The new rules were opening the door to all the other teams. Tom and Jerry could no longer guarantee their leading margin by staying with the pack, if the pack split up and went several different ways. The race could get more exciting.
