Fallen Pride (Jesse McDermitt Series)

by Wayne Stinnett

  I looked at her for a moment, then gazed out across the water. “Jackie, I’ve been married four times. Three divorces.”

  “I know about Alex, Jesse. It’s been almost eight months. Do you think she’d want you to be a hermit?”

  I laughed. “No, I know she wouldn’t and I’m far from being a hermit.”

  “So what then? You don’t like me? You think I’m ugly? You don’t like redheads?”

  “I like you fine and you’re a damned beautiful woman. Which I’m sure you’re aware of.” We sat in silence for a minute. Trent had told me once that the only way to make a relationship work, whether it’s a friend or a lover, was total honesty. “I was involved with someone last winter. Probably too soon after Alex died. She split when she realized how dangerous my life was. I don’t know that it’s fair to put someone through that. It’s what cost me three marriages.”

  She thought about it a moment. “My ex was a jet jockey. He was deployed three years of our five years together. I know a little about what your ex-wives went through. It can drive a person crazy not knowing. But, I think I have kind of a unique perspective to your lifestyle.”

  She had a point there. A month after I was on her operating table, where she removed a bullet that was dangerously close to my spine, she stepped in front of another bullet meant for me and was laid up in the hospital herself for two weeks.

  “What I do now goes beyond that a little,” I said. “One day, I could just not show up for a dinner date and not be heard from for days. Maybe never. No explanation, no note, no call. Nothing. I like you, Jackie. But, you wouldn’t want to live like that.”

  “So you just want to be friends? Is that it?”

  I wanted a hell of lot more than that, but the rational side of my brain took over. “Yeah, friends.”

  She gave me a sultry look and smiled. “Friends with benefits?”

  You could have knocked me over with the proverbial feather and I guess it registered in my expression.

  “What? Women don’t have needs?”

  “Yeah, I mean no, I mean, well, I just never thought about it.”

  “It’s a new century, Jesse,” she said with a smile, as she stood up and tossed her hair over her shoulder. “You should join it.”

  She turned and started walking toward shore with my dog, as I sat there dumb struck, then scrambled to my feet and trotted after her. I showed her the rest of the island, which didn’t take very long. Trent had done more work on his house than I’d thought earlier. Besides having the roof on, the interior walls were complete. Rather than drywall, he’d used tongue and groove heart of pine. It looked to be reclaimed wood, so I asked him about it.

  “Yeah,” he said. “A friend, who’s a builder, tore down an old bar up in Tavernier to build a new house and I heard through the coconut telegraph that he’d pay $500 to cart it away. Borrowed a flatbed from another friend and hauled it up to that sawmill in Homestead. They charged me $400 to mill it all flat and straight, with tongues and grooves. The other hundred about covered the gas in the truck.”

  “Looks real cozy,” Jackie said.

  “Charlie did like you said, Jesse. Ordering the appliances. It wasn’t cheap.”

  “Didn’t think it would be. You get what you pay for right?”

  “They’ll have them at the Home Depot, on Tuesday.”

  “Give Skeeter a call on Big Pine,” I suggested. “He’ll let you use his little salvage barge to bring everything up in one trip. This is looking really nice, man.”

  He thanked me and I took Jackie on up to the house to show her around. Deuce and Julie were sitting at the table in the galley. Deuce was just ending a call on the phone. “How’d you get a signal in here?” I asked. “Out on the front deck is the only place I’ve ever got one.”

  “Yeah, right,” Deuce said. “When’s the last time you even made a phone call from out here?”

  I had to think about it a moment. I couldn’t remember. I don’t use phones very often.

  “Jesse, that phone I gave you back in January is the same as this one, a satphone. You can get a signal anywhere. That was the Colonel. They’ll be here in twenty minutes.”

  We walked out and crossed the clearing to the two large tables Trent had built and within minutes the sound of a helicopter could be heard. A quick glance at the flagpole told me the wind was coming out of the east and very light, meaning the pilot would probably fly over, turn, then come in over Trent’s house.

  While the others waited at the table, I walked over to the east side of the clearing. The pilot flew over a moment later at a slow speed, turned and lined up to land. I guided him down with arm signals and he landed gently in the center of the clearing. Both the pilot and co-pilot climbed out the front doors of the Air Force TH-1 Iroquois training helicopter. The port side door slid back and Tony and Dawson climbed out, both carrying packs. Since nobody else got out, I assumed the co-pilot was Stockwell, but he remained with the chopper. The pilot removed his flight helmet and handed it to the co-pilot. He then joined Tony and Dawson and walked toward the tables, where I’d already joined the others.

  Removing his sunglasses, Stockwell extended his hand and said, “Nice to finally meet you in person, Jesse, I’m Travis.” I shook his hand and he continued, “Thanks for allowing me to stop here. I’ve been wanting to see this place since Deuce told me about it.”

  I liked him right away. He was a short man, only about 5’-7” or so and lean. His hair was once dark, but now had nearly as much silver in it and was closely cropped. His eyes were dark blue and danced constantly, taking in everything around him.

  “Pleased to meet you, Colonel,” I said, using his former rank, which surprised Deuce judging by the look on his face.

  “Call me Travis,” he said. “I imagine we’ll be working together in the future and I like to get to know people I work with.”

  I introduced him and Dawson to Jackie and Trent. Then Deuce introduced him to Julie. “Congratulations on your promotion Julie. That’s one of the reasons I wanted to stop here and to bring Jeremy. Mind if we sit down?”

  “Would you like a bottle of water, or maybe a beer?” I asked.

  He glanced at his watch and said, “Sure. A cold beer would hit the spot right now. I can always let the Zoomie fly the next leg.”

  I handed him a cold Red Stripe from the cooler we kept stocked and sitting under the table and Trent said he had some work to attend to and walked toward the tanks. “Nice landing, by the way,” I said. “Deuce didn’t mention you were a chopper pilot.”

  “I’m not,” he said. “Not primarily, anyway. Took some flight training with the 7th when I was a young Lieutenant.”

  “What’d you come to see us about?” Deuce asked.

  “Commander Burdick, I’ve read your jacket and saw that you do indeed have a secret clearance. For that reason, you can remain, but everything we discuss is classified.”

  “All officers in the Navy have a secret clearance,” she said. “But if you want, I can go help Carl.”

  “No reason,” he said with a smile. “If the Secret Service trusts you to be close to the President, I guess I can trust you on this.”

  He looked at Julie and Dawson and continued, “First off, our team cross trains one another, as I’m sure Deuce has already told you. The skills you two learned in Maritime Enforcement are greatly needed by the rest of the team. Julie, I want you to put together a two week training course on small boat boarding tactics for the whole team. Get with Deuce and learn everyone’s strong and weak points and utilize that in the training. Jeremy will assist you in the actual implementation of the course and the Coast Guard will provide the boats.”

  “Aye aye, sir,” Julie said.

  “Wouldn’t it be better if they trained on the boats here?” I asked. “I mean, if a scenario were to come up that they’d need to use that training, would they have to wait for the Coast Guard to provide familiar boats?”

  “Hmm,” he said thinking. “Good point. Mak
e it a three week course and include every available type of small craft you can lay hands on, including those from the Coast Guard.”

  “When do you want to start the training?” Deuce asked.

  “No set timetable, just whenever she can arrange it. That brings me to the second reason for my visit. I’d like to take a page from Jesse’s playbook and get everyone in the team into some kind of local job as cover. Not a real nine to five job, but kind of an entrepreneurial thing, where they could take time away suddenly without raising suspicion or getting fired. The two Scott’s and Jeremiah, for instance, could open a private scuba diving school. Charity could open a small martial arts school. Chyrel, a computer repair store. Things like that. What do you think?”

  “Great idea,” Deuce said. “Something that will make them not stand out so much as outsiders and fill a lot of the free time.”

  “Exactly,” Stockwell said. “The next thing I wanted to talk to y’all about goes right along with that. The team needs to be more covert in their dealings with the public in general. As local citizens, that’ll go a long way with helping each of them maintain a low profile. But their appearance, particularly yours, Deuce, just reeks of military. Let your hair grow out some, cut back on the daily shaving to maybe once a week before Church.”

  “We’re still active duty, even though we’re attached to DHS,” Deuce said.

  “You mean to tell me, you never let your hair and beard grow out when you were with the SEAL’s?”

  “Well, yeah. But only when we were going under cover and it would sell the cover.”

  Stockwell cocked his head, arched an eyebrow and looked at Deuce with a lopsided grin.

  “Point taken,” Deuce said.

  “Now, on the subject you emailed me about, Deuce. Upgrading a dishonorable discharge? Where’d this come from?”

  “Personal friend of mine, Travis,” I said. “A young Marine who was railroaded by your predecessor.”

  Stockwell nodded. “Smith. Deuce explained your suspicions and it doesn’t surprise me.”

  “He was debriefing a Marine sniper team in Ashraf, Iraq, two years ago. They’d been involved in the accidental death of a non-combatant. Apparently Smith accused the shooter of killing the girl on purpose and the Marine gave him a beating. Smith, using his political and financial connections, had the Marine dishonorably discharged. That Marine is the son of a friend of mine.”

  Stockwell looked at me and said, “Marines take care of their own, I get it.” Then he looked at Deuce and continued, “I contacted Tankersley for the details, per your request, Deuce. He had his report already filled out and faxed it to me. I put together a DD form 293, filled in the required sections, sent it to Tankersley, who completed his required sections and faxed it back. Then I called SecNav and explained yours and Tankersley’s suspicions about Smith. He wasn’t well liked by SecNav I take it?”

  “You could say that,” Deuce said.

  “He asked me to send him the form and when he saw who was requesting the upgrade on Williams’s behalf, he called me back. An active duty recipient of the Medal of Honor can throw a lot of weight around Washington, without any political baggage. The SecNav will consider it personally, under one condition. That Williams accepts the Honorable Discharge, without seeking back pay. Is that what he’s after?”

  “No sir,” I said. “He’s not even aware of this. His dad is my mechanic and wanted me to find out what could be done to help Williams out with some psychological problems he’s having.”

  “How soon can he be in Washington?” Stockwell asked.

  “I’ll go see him Sunday after the fishing trip. He lives in Key West.”

  “If he agrees to not seek back pay, I see no reason why it won’t be upgraded to Honorable, with all the rights and privileges that go with it.”

  “Including the opportunity to reenlist?” I asked.

  Stockwell looked at me and grinned, “Is that what he’s really after?”

  “He’d planned on making the Corps his career and Tank thought him to be a very good leader.”

  “Yes,” Stockwell said. “If he gets the upgrade, he’d be eligible to reenlist. Sounds like he’d not only be a credit to the Corps, but he’d be among his peers, which would be better for him than seeing some VA shrink.”

  “I’ll talk to him Sunday,” I said. “Thanks.”

  “Lastly, the details for tomorrow. I’ve already contacted the base Commanding Officer and he’s arranged for the whole dock in front of the main building at the marina to be cleared. Dock your boats facing the sea, with the escort boat to the rear. The Dockmaster will have the names of both boats and if anyone asks anything, you don’t know who the VIP’s are. The President’s motorcade will pull up next to the dock and they’ll board within minutes, so have the engines running. You and your crew members should be standing at the docks to receive the President. He’ll do a quick meet and greet there, like he always does, then board and cast off immediately. Any questions?”

  “None that I can think of, Colonel.”

  “That’s about all I had then. Thanks again for letting me stop here, Jesse. Now is someone going to tell me what the hell that contraption is Carl’s working on?”

  “It’s an aquaculture system,” I said. “We’re going to raise crawfish and vegetables right here on the island.”

  “Crawfish?” he said. “And vegetables? Why?”

  “Jesse wants to be a hermit,” Jackie said with a smile. “Completely off the grid.”

  “A hermit?” Stockwell asked.

  “Just a crazy idea I had. We get most of our food from the sea. When I first cleared this area, I wanted to grow some vegetables, but the soil’s all wrong. Trent suggested aquaculture and I was curious. Besides, I love Cajun crawfish.”

  Deuce and I showed Stockwell around the island. He was impressed with the bunkhouses, the new electrical station, the water maker, and mostly the remote location. “How long do you think you could support an eight person team out here?”

  “Eight?” I asked. “As long as they like seafood, pretty much indefinitely. Why?”

  “I like the location for intense training. This will be perfect for Julie’s small craft boarding training. No distractions and no outside interference or monitoring. And I like your idea of using it as a base of operations for missions. Can I see your boats?”

  We walked over to the house and up to the deck. The 16 foot wide deck surrounds my house on three sides, all but the east side and is completely enclosed below, where the docks are located. Originally, I’d only planned on docking the Revenge and my 18 foot Maverick Mirage skiff under the house, but with a little extra work and planning, we were able to get all six boats docked below.

  Stockwell turned to us at the steps down to the docks and said, “Can Jesse and I have a moment alone?”

  “Yes sir,” Deuce said and turned to Jackie. “Come on inside Doc, we’ll show you the house.”

  Stockwell and I walked down the steps toward the front of the house and I opened the door to the dock area. Stockwell stepped through and let out a low whistle. The Revenge was docked in the first slip and a three foot wide dock went from the door to the rear of the house. The dock continued along the rear wall and back to the front along the east wall, with another dock extending down the middle. There are small storage closets at the end of each dock, at the front of the house.

  He walked down the dock and around the stern of the Revenge. The Cigarette was docked in the next slip, with barely a foot between them. Beyond it, the Grady was docked in front of Alex’s skiff against the center dock, with my skiff tied off to hers. Against the far dock lay the Winter center console, El Cazador.

  “Not a lot of room left down here,” Stockwell said.

  Joining him at the stern of the Cazador, I said, “This is the boat Julie will pilot with the Secret Security detachment aboard.”

  “Cazador? That’s Spanish for hunter, isn’t it?”

  “Yeah, we sort of adopted her when
drug smugglers didn’t want her anymore.”

  “How fast are these two?” he asked.

  “The Revenge has a top speed of 46 knots and Cazador, about 40 knots.”

  He glanced at me surprised. “Not your average fishing boats, huh?”

  I laughed and said, “No, they were both built specifically for the drug trade.”

  He nodded toward the Cigarette, “What about the go fast boat?”

  “Not much for fishing,” I replied. “But she’ll get you there really quick, over 100 knots. She came with the Cazador.”

  “Very impressive,” he said. “Everything.”

  “Was there something you wanted to talk to me about?”

  “Yes,” he said. “I wanted to talk to you about the woman killed in the boat accident last winter, Isabella Espinosa.”

  “With all due respect, I think we both know that wasn’t her real name.”

  He eyed me sharply. “Afia Qazi, daughter of Syed Qazi Al Fayyad and a known terrorist. Deuce gave me his report, including the single shot fired that ignited the fuel tank. I then shredded his report. The investigation has been closed, the Monroe Sherriff’s Office and the Florida Marine Patrol have officially called it a boating accident, involving an illegal Cuban national.”

  I gave that some thought. “So, you’re telling me I’m not a suspect in the killing of a known terrorist?”

  “What terrorist?” he said with a sly grin. “A Cuban national, in the country illegally, with ties to a drug smuggler. I also did some more in depth reading in your service record book. I was particularly impressed with a single day in Mogadishu.”

  “Ancient history, Colonel,” I said.

  “Are you saying you’re no longer able to make a shot like that? Not many people can make a 1200 meter kill shot.”

  “If need be, I probably could.”

  “Deuce also told me how you handled a situation with his two long gun shooters. Think you could work with them some? Maybe make them a little less spooky?”

  He was talking about the Australian, Donnie Hinkle and his spotter Glenn Mitchel. They were a SEAL sniper team, before coming to DHS to join Deuce’s team. Before the Cuba operation, the rest of the team sort of steered clear of them. I had a few words with the two men and made them see the error of their ways.