Orchid Beach hb-1

by Stuart Woods

  “I’m familiar with the type of thing,” Crisp said.

  “We’ve got one that’s unusual.”

  “How so?” Crisp asked, munching.

  “Well, it’s on a good fifteen hundred acres, but it’s only got a couple of hundred houses, and it appears to be already fairly fully developed.”

  “Sounds expensive,” Crisp said.

  “Extremely,” Holly replied. “It’s also got three eighteen-hole golf courses and its own six-thousand-foot airfield.”

  “For two hundred households?” Crisp asked.

  “That’s it. And the airfield gets a lot of international traffic. They have some sort of deal with customs and immigration to clear arrivals on the spot.”

  “A private airport of entry? I’ve never heard of anything like that.”

  “Neither have I,” Jackson said.

  “Tell me more.”

  “The place is surrounded by a ten-foot-high double fence with razor wire on top, and the inner fence is electrified.”

  “Security conscious, huh?”

  Ham spoke up. “We tried to get a look at their marina the other day, and they threatened us with automatic weapons and threw us out in a hurry.”

  “Touchy.”

  “You could say that.”

  “There’s more,” Holly said. “The place is nearly completely cut off from any local services, except maybe the food supply. It has an electricity generating plant, its own water and sewage system, and the houses were built by labor imported from somewhere else. Only the basic infrastructure was built by locals.”

  Crisp finished his dinner and pushed his plate away. “What else?”

  Ham got up and started clearing the table.

  “The employees seem all to live on the grounds,” Jackson said. “No locals were hired. We estimate there’s housing for four hundred employees.”

  “They’ve got two thousand telephone lines and a communications center you won’t believe,” Holly said, bringing out the aerial photographs and spreading them out on the table.

  “How the hell did you get this?” Crisp asked. “This looks like a satshot.”

  “Old-fashioned aerial photography,” Jackson replied. “Friend of mine does it for a living.”

  Holly pointed out the building with the antennae.

  “Anybody got a magnifying glass?” Crisp asked.

  Holly found one on Ham’s desk and handed it to him.

  Crisp peered closely at the communications equipment. “I’ll tell you something,” he said. “This is more stuff than the bureau has on its roof in Miami.”

  “Check this out,” Holly said, pointing at place after place. “We think this is all camouflage netting.”

  “Covering what?”

  “Use your imagination.”

  “That’s asking a lot of an FBI man,” Jackson said.

  “I’ll do my best,” Crisp said. “Okay, I give up. What could be under there?”

  “Ham is ex-army. He says maybe antiaircraft guns or even ground-to-air missiles.”

  “Whoa,” Crisp said. “Let’s try to keep both feet on the ground, here.”

  “Harry,” Jackson said, “everything about this place defies the imagination.”

  “Yeah,” Holly said. “State licensing records show that a hundred and two employees, including a security force of fifteen, have licenses to carry weapons.”

  “That’s a lot,” Crisp said.

  “Jackson recognized five of the names on the security force as having criminal records, but when we checked the state computer, they were all showing as clean.”

  “Everybody makes mistakes,” Crisp said.

  “There’s more,” Holly said. “Today, I ran all one hundred and two gun-toters through the state computer, and they all came up clean. Then I ran the same names through your national computer, and seventy-one of them turned up with convictions ranging over most of the spectrum of criminal activity.” She placed the files on the table.

  Crisp looked at a few of them, then looked up at Holly. “That’s unbelievable,” he said. “You’ve got a very serious problem at the state level. Have you reported this to Tallahassee?”

  “No, only the three of us know about what we’ve told you.”

  “Thank God for that,” Crisp said. “For Christ’s sake, don’t tell anybody else.”

  “Don’t worry,” Holly replied.

  “Is there anything else you want to tell me?”

  “Ham knew the Palmetto Gardens head of security in the army. His name is Barney Noble.”

  “I know that name. Doesn’t he have a security company in Miami?”

  “Right,” Jackson replied, “Craig and Noble. I think all the security guards have come out of there.”

  “And they’re armed to the teeth,” Holly said. “I’ve seen assault rifles, and a lot of the regular support staff—waiters, groundskeepers and the like—are packing.”

  “I’m going to have to talk to some of my people about this,” Crisp said. “Can I call you at your office, Holly?”

  “Not on the regular departmental line,” Holly replied. She wrote down her private number. “On this line.”

  “Are you worried about somebody in your department?”

  “Yes. My predecessor, Chet Marley, thought somebody was dealing with somebody outside, but I never found out who or what. He was shot the night I arrived in town, along with a friend of his that he might have told about this. They’re both dead.”

  “And you think this is connected to Palmetto Gardens?”

  “I can’t prove it. What do you think is going on here, Harry?”

  “Well, it’s highly suspicious, of course, to have what amounts to a private army to protect two hundred houses and a golf course, but that’s probably not criminal.”

  “Altering the state’s criminal records is,” Jackson said.

  “It’s certainly probable cause for me to get involved,” Harry replied. “It was a very smart move, Holly, to run those records and compare them with the national computer. If you hadn’t done that, I’d probably have to tell you to call me when somebody at Palmetto Gardens commits a crime.”

  “What can you do with what we’ve got, Harry?”

  “If I bring half a dozen people up here, is there somewhere we can all meet without attracting attention?”

  “My house,” Jackson said, “but bring somebody who can sweep it for bugs.” He drew Crisp a map.

  Crisp looked at his watch. “I’m going to drive back to Miami tonight and try to set up a meeting with my agent in charge tomorrow morning. Is there an airport here?”

  “Yeah,” Jackson said, “but I don’t think you want a lot of suits getting off a big airplane out there. Be inconspicuous.”

  “Thanks, Jackson,” Crisp said sarcastically. “I’ll try to keep that in mind. Holly, can I have these photographs and records?”

  “Sure, but I’ll want them back.”

  “I’ll have copies made and return the originals,” he said. He stood up. “I’ve got a long drive, and I’ve got to pick up my stuff from a motel in Fort Pierce. I’d better get going.”

  “Thanks for coming,” Holly said. “I feel like I’m in over my head, here, and I could sure use some help figuring this thing out.”

  “I think I can get you what you need, Holly,” Crisp said.

  “And try not to get her killed while you’re doing it,” Jackson said.

  “Jackson, your overwhelming confidence in your government never ceases to amaze me,” Crisp replied, gathering up the photographs and records.

  Jackson laughed aloud.

  “Be seeing you,” Harry Crisp said, then left.

  CHAPTER

  41

  H olly had begun going through the departmental personnel files, something she had been putting off. She wanted to read up on the backgrounds of all her people to get a mental picture of who everybody was. She started with Hurd Wallace’s file.

  Hurd had been born in Orlando, had attended
Florida State, majoring in business, had served a hitch in the Marine Corps and had joined the Orlando force after his discharge. Three years before, Chet Marley had hired him as a sergeant, then promoted him to lieutenant two years after that. She was wondering why Chet had hired him, promoted him, then came to distrust him. He had expressed annoyance about Hurd’s having political connections, and she assumed that meant John Westover. Her intercom line rang.

  “Yes?”

  “Chief, there’s a Mr. Barney Noble to see you.”

  Holly looked through her glass wall and across the squad room to the front desk. Noble was standing there, in civilian clothes, gazing at her. “Send him in,” Holly said, wondering what the hell this was about.

  Barney ambled in, shook her hand and took a seat. “So, Holly, how’s the new job going?”

  “It’s going okay, Barney,” she said, smiling. “Right now, I’m pretty much just plowing through paperwork. I expect you know about that.”

  “Part of the job, I guess.”

  “How are things out at Palmetto Gardens?” she asked.

  “Humming along,” he replied. “I had kind of a surprise this morning, though.”

  “What was that?”

  “Friend of mine up in Tallahassee called and said that the Orchid Beach PD had requested a criminal records check on over a hundred of our employees. What was that all about?” He was looking serious now.

  “Just a routine thing,” Holly replied. She was glad he didn’t know she had run his people through the national computer as well.

  “C’mon, Holly, don’t hand me that. What the hell are you looking for?” His face had turned pink.

  “Take it easy, Barney, and I’ll explain.” She was thinking fast now—this had to be good.

  “Please do that.”

  “One of the things I think helps keep the peace is to keep a close watch on firearms in the community. Last week, with that in mind, I requested from the state licensing authority a list of every citizen of Orchid Beach who held a license to carry weapons. I have to tell you, I was very surprised to find that of the three hundred or so licensed individuals, a hundred and two of them had addresses at Palmetto Gardens.”

  “I can explain that,” Barney said. He started to, but Holly held up a hand.

  “Let me finish. I assumed that there were so many gun-toters out there because of what you had told me about your members liking overkill when it comes to security.”

  “That’s right.”

  “I accept that; I don’t have any problem with that.”

  “Then why did you run criminal records checks on all those people?”

  “Barney, I’m running a criminal records check on every person in Orchid Beach who has a firearms license, to make sure he’s entitled to one. Your people just got checked first, that’s all.”

  “Sorry, I don’t understand what you hope to accomplish by checking three hundred people like that.”

  “I’ll tell you. I’ve already discovered eighteen people in town who had felony convictions after they got the gun license, and I’m only halfway through the list,” she lied. “I’m going to have those licenses pulled and, if I can, confiscate the weapons.”

  Barney started to speak, but Holly interrupted him again.

  “I’m also going to check that, among the people with licenses, all their guns are licensed. By the way, you’ll be happy to know that none of your people had a conviction of any sort, and they all hold their licenses legally.”

  Barney seemed to relax a little. “Well, of course they do; I ran checks on all of them when I hired them.”

  “Good. Now what you might do is to tell them all that I’m going to check out their individual weapons, to make sure they’re legal. I’m not having any unlicensed assault weapons or machine guns in my jurisdiction.”

  “Tell you what,” Barney said enthusiastically, “why don’t you let me do that for you with my people? I’ll check them out individually and make sure everything is kosher.”

  “Why, thank you, Barney, I’d really appreciate that. You’d be taking care of a third of our work for us.”

  “No problem, I’m glad to do it,” Barney said. “Say, I really enjoyed the golf with you and Ham. How’s he doing?”

  “He’s doing really well,” Holly replied. “He’s moved into a nice place, and he’s reading and watching sports on TV a lot. He’s joining a golf club, too.”

  “That’s great news,” Barney said. He got to his feet. “Well, I’d better get going.”

  Holly had an idea. Now that she had reassured him, she wanted to stick a burr under his saddle. “Hang on a minute, Barney,” she said. “Sit down. There’s something I was going to call you about that’s troubled me, and we might as well talk about it now.”

  “Sure,” he said. “What’s up?”

  “You’ve got a man on your security force named Mosely, haven’t you?”

  “Sure, Cracker Mosely. Good man. You got a problem with him? I’d like to know about it, if you have.”

  “I’m just a little confused,” Holly said. “When I ran Mosely through the records check, he was clean.”

  “Well, sure he was. He’s one of mine, and mine are all clean.”

  Holly thought Noble was looking uncomfortable again.

  “The problem is, I’ve come across some information that your man Mosely did time in state prison for manslaughter one.”

  “That’s news to me,” Noble said, flustered.

  “I can see how it would be,” Holly said, “after I ran him through the computer, and he came up clean. I expect it’s just some problem at the state level. Everybody makes mistakes.”

  “Yeah, I guess so.”

  “But you see my problem, Barney. If Mosely has a felony conviction, he shouldn’t be working as a security guard, and he shouldn’t be carrying weapons. I’m going to have to have those licenses.”

  Suddenly, Barney Noble looked like a cornered rat, and Holly was enjoying it.

  “On my desk today, Barney,” she said, trying to sound regretful.

  Barney seemed unable to speak.

  “Or I’ll have to come get them,” she said.

  “I’m sure this is just some kind of mix-up,” Barney said.

  “I sure hope so, Barney.”

  “I’m going to check into this right now, and if what you say is true, you’ll have the licenses. Can I have until noon tomorrow?”

  “Sure, Barney, if you need the time.”

  “Uh, if I turn in Mosely’s licenses, are there going to be any charges against him?”

  “I can’t really say, Barney, until I’ve talked to the county attorney. But speaking for myself, I don’t see any reason to pursue it. As long as I get the licenses.”

  Barney stood up.

  “And as long as Mosely doesn’t carry a gun. I mean, you can put him to work maintaining the golf course, or something, but I wouldn’t want to find out he was still working security.”

  “I’ll get back to you,” Barney replied.

  “I’ll walk you out,” she said. “I was just going to lunch.”

  Holly followed him through the squad room and out to the parking lot, where they shook hands and said good-bye. As Barney got into his car, she fired a parting shot. “Oh, Barney,” she said sweetly, “I’d like for Mosely to bring in the licenses himself.” She didn’t wait for a reaction; she smiled and waved as he drove away.

  As Barney stopped for traffic on the street, she noticed something she hadn’t seen before. On the back of his Palmetto Gardens Range Rover was a small sticker that read WESTOVER MOTORS.

  That was very interesting, she thought. She wondered how long it would be before she got a call from John Westover.

  CHAPTER

  42

  H olly didn’t have to wait long. When she got back from lunch, John Westover was sitting in her office. “Hey, John, how are you?” she asked.

  Westover got up and shook her hand, but he didn’t look happy. “I’m good, Holl
y? You?”

  “Just fine, thanks.” She sat down behind her desk. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

  “Holly, there’s something we have to talk about,” Westover replied.

  “Shoot.”

  “Let me start at the beginning.”

  “All right.”

  “Some years ago when the Palmetto Gardens people were looking for land here…”

  “Oh, this is about Palmetto Gardens?”

  “Please let me finish.”

  “Sorry, John, go right ahead.”

  “When they were looking for land, they came to the council with a number of proposals that sort of set them apart from other developers, things they wanted that other developers never seem to think about.”

  “What sort of things?”

  “Well, at first, they wanted to incorporate as their own town. We explained to them that we wouldn’t do that, because that would put them outside our tax base. Then they wanted some other things that were all aimed at making them as separate as possible.”

  “What sort of things?” Holly asked again, continuing to play dumb. She wanted Westover to have to spell it out.

  “For instance, they let us know up front that they weren’t going to hire much local labor, that they would be mostly bringing in their own people.”

  “But that wouldn’t be so good for Orchid, would it, John?”

  “Normally, no, but the taxes on such a large and expensively developed parcel of land more than made up for that.”

  “I see, it was the money.”

  “Well, of course it was the money,” Westover said irritably. “That one development accounts for a very healthy percentage of our income from local property taxes.”

  “I understand, John.”

  “They even brought in their own construction workers, which didn’t sit well with local builders, I can tell you, and there were other things we don’t need to go into right now.”

  “What things?”

  “I just said, I don’t want to go into all of them now,” Westover said heatedly.

  “Sorry, go ahead, John.”

  “Well, the whole thing has worked out brilliantly for Orchid Beach,” Westover said.