Fallen Pride (Jesse McDermitt Series)

by Wayne Stinnett

  I went quietly up the steps and was halfway across the deck when I heard the unmistakable sound of a pole being taken out of its rack and then heard a huffing noise as someone stepped up onto a poling platform.

  I stayed close to the wall of the house and drew my Sig. When I got to the door, it cracked open and I could see Deuce’s silhouette standing just inside the door.

  “Heard it approaching,” he whispered. “Waited till I heard the deck planks creak.”

  “Someone in a flats boat at the entrance to the channel. They’re poling this way.”

  “Take the lead,” he said. “I can’t see shit, but I have your big spotlight, if needed.”

  “Just let me know before you turn it on.”

  I edged to the corner of the house and Deuce crouched down and moved quickly to the far rail under the branches of the mangroves. From there, he moved along the railing to the corner. From where I stood, I could see the boat. A man was standing on the poling platform about halfway up my channel. Another man was sitting sideways on the casting platform near the bow.

  “Deuce,” I barely whispered as I removed the headset. “Hit the light, about halfway down the channel.”

  The super bright spotlight hit the water about ten feet in front of the boat and angled up, illuminating it in its blinding light. “That’s far enough!” I shouted.

  The man on the front screamed and lunged backward, falling off the casting platform into the boat. But, it sounded like a woman’s scream. The man on the poling platform dropped the pole and raised both hands high above his head.

  “Jesse,” he said. “It’s me, Doc.”

  Once we got Doc and Nikki’s skiff tied up to the south pier, we went up to the deck. I told Kumar everything was alright and I’d be back down in a few minutes.

  “What the hell are you doing coming up here in the middle of the night, Doc?” I asked. “You came a hair’s breadth of getting shot. Both of you.”

  “Wouldn’t be the first time today,” Nikki said.

  We sat down at the table on the rear deck and I asked, “What do you mean, not the first time.”

  “Some guy took a shot at me this afternoon,” Doc said. “While we were riding on the bike.”

  “Did you see who it was?” Deuce asked.

  “I got a look at him,” Nikki said. “Not much of one, but if I ever see him again, I’ll know him.”

  “We spent the whole afternoon with the Key West Police,” Doc said. “They were no help at all. Chalked it up to a rival biker gang. Hell, the closest thing to a gang we ride with is American Legion Riders and Patriot Guard.”

  “Bob thought it might have to do with what happened last Sunday out on the boat,” Nikki said. “So we decided to come here. Even knowing where this place is, it still took us hours to find it.”

  Julie brought some coffee out and I headed back down to join Kumar, while Deuce brought them up to speed on the events since last weekend. I told Doc that he and Nikki could take the guest cabin on the Revenge. At the end of our watch, we woke Art Newman and Ralph Goodman for the next watch and filled them in on the new arrivals. Then I went up and joined Deuce and the others on the deck.

  “I have an idea,” I said.

  “Yeah?” Deuce asked.

  “Nikki said she’d recognize the guy if she ever saw him again, right? So far the whole cast of characters Smith has written into his little murder and espionage novel have come from Stolski’s list of contacts. If Doc and Nikki’s shooter isn’t Smith himself, she might be able to pick him out of the bio pictures Chyrel has in the office.”

  “You’re right, Jesse,” Deuce said.

  “Want me to go down and wake her up?” Julie asked.

  “Yeah, none of us are going to be able to get to sleep until we know.”

  Julie started down the back steps but I stopped her. “Hang on, let me tell Art and Ralph you’re coming. Oh, and have Chyrel print a picture of Smith, too.”

  I switched on my ear wig and waited for it to boot up. Art and Goodman were talking about Jared and Charity. I said, “You guys know that anyone who turns on their ear wig can hear you, right?”

  “Sorry, Jesse,” Art said. “What’s up?”

  “Julie’s coming across the clearing to wake up Chyrel.”

  “She’s already up. That’s who we were talking to. Her and Charity.”

  “What’s up, Jesse?” Chyrel asked.

  “Julies coming to pick up that list of Stolski’s contacts. Could you also print a picture of Smith and put that with it?”

  “Sure thing. I’ll have it ready when she gets here.”

  I switched off the mic function but left the receiver on and said to Julie, “Go ahead, she’s already up.”

  I sat down next to Deuce, across from Doc and Nikki. Although I’m not an eavesdropper by nature, I was curious. And I had warned them that others could hear. So, while we waited for Julie and drank coffee I listened in to the conversation between our two watchers and the two women in the bunkhouse. Apparently, Jared and Charity had stayed up quite late and had gone out onto the pier to talk in private. She was curious to know more about him and had wakened Chyrel to tap into Art and Goodman’s coms to ask them if they knew anything about him.

  “What are you grinning about?” Doc asked.

  “Huh,” I said. “Oh nothing. Planted a seed earlier today and was just thinking about the roots that are starting to spread.”

  “You’re taking that aquaculture stuff a little too serious, man,” Deuce said.

  Julie came up the steps and handed Deuce the file from Chyrel. I lit a tiki torch that was mounted at the corner of the rail to give more light.

  Deuce opened the file and took a picture of Smith out, turned it around and showed it to Nikki. “This is Jason Smith.”

  “No, definitely not. Too old.”

  He took out the five pages of Stolski’s known associates and placed them in front of Nikki. “Each of these pages has four or five short bios of guys that might be involved along with a picture of each. Take a look and see if your shooter might be one of them.”

  She studied the pictures of each person carefully, skipping those that were ethnically disqualified. The shooter was white. On page four she stopped and pointed at a picture. “This is him.”

  “You’re sure?” Deuce asked.

  “Absolutely. It’s him. Who is he?”

  Deuce looked at the page and read the bio. “His name’s Dimitri Darchevsky. A Russian national raised in California since he was a toddler. He was recruited into the CIA out of UCLA, Berkley, where he was a liberal arts major. He speaks English with a west coast surfer accent and Russian with a Ukrainian accent. Posted in Kiev for a year with an embassy clerk’s cover ID and went by the name Don Darnell, but he was actually a deep cover operative. Left the CIA at the same time Stolski did and went into private security for a few Hollywood elites.”

  “The Agency seems to have a pretty high turnover rate with their spooks,” I said.

  “Not uncommon,” Deuce said. “They’re hired with a three year obligation and a lot of them see that they can make more money outside the Agency with what they learn. Trouble is, it takes a lot more than three years to learn good trade craft.”

  “So, if Darchevsky does security work for the stars, he’s probably a high dollar player. I don’t see Alec Baldwin letting one of his security guys take time off just any old time.”

  “You’re right. He’d have to be head of security and be able to turn things over to a subordinate for a few days, or low level muscle that can quit without notice for a more lucrative offer. My guess is the former. He wouldn’t be able to do that very often and still find work.”

  The conversation was still going on in my other ear and I switched the mic back on. “Chyrel, if you’re not too tired, can you dig up everything you can on Dimitri Darchevsky?”

  “Sure, Jesse,” she said. “I’ll have Char bring it up. She wants to talk to you, anyway.”

  “Thanks,�
� I said wondering what that was about. I switched the ear wig completely off.

  “If your Jason Smith hired this guy,” Doc said, “Why us? I never met the guy.”

  Deuce thought about it for a moment and said, “I really don’t know. Maybe just to send a message. Maybe he has no idea we’re on to him. By now he’s bound to know his first assassin is dead. But, there’s no way he knows the second guy was caught and is in Gitmo being interrogated.”

  “You mean there was another attempt on the President?”

  “We don’t think the President was the target at all,” I said. “We are. Me and Deuce. Maybe the whole team. Smith was pretty pissed that we went ahead into Cuba to get Tony out.”

  “Coming up!” came a voice from the bottom of the steps.

  “Come on up, Charity,” Deuce said.

  She came up the steps and handed Deuce another file, this one much thicker. “Got a minute, Jesse?” she asked.

  “Yeah, guess I need another cup of Joe and it looks like Deuce has some reading to do. Let’s go inside.”

  We went inside the house and I poured another cup of coffee. “Care for a cup?” I asked.

  “Sure, I’m not tired anyway. Black, please.”

  I got another mug, poured her a cup and carried it over to the little table in the corner. “Have a seat,” I said.

  “This is a nice little place here. Julie said you built it completely by yourself?”

  “Every board, nail, and screw.” I waited to let her gather her thoughts while I sipped my coffee.

  “What do you know about Jared?” she finally asked.

  “Quite a lot. Anything in particular you want to know?”

  “He told me a lot about his time in the Marines, but I think he might have been a bit humble.”

  “Wouldn’t surprise me,” I said. “His former Battalion Sergeant Major is a good friend of mine. I asked him what kind of Marine he was and he said he was one of the best, an ‘outstanding young leader’, he said. Otherwise, I wouldn’t be going to bat for him. He got a raw deal and that’s being fixed. My friend says he has a great future in the Corps.”

  “Do you know anything about his private life?”

  “His dad’s a good friend and a straight up guy. His mom’s a Church goer and his brother’s a Marine. A friend in Key West that used to work with him called him a ‘mother hen’ to his coworkers.”

  “Never married? Girlfriend?”

  I smiled. The seed had taken root. “So, your interest is more than just as a possible team member, or about his problems with the past?”

  “We sat out on the pier until just a little while ago watching the stars and talking. He opened up about what happened. That’s a terrible guilt to have to carry around. I felt a connection, I guess.”

  A connection? Suddenly what happened with Doc and Nikki made me realize something. “Charity, I just thought of something and I need to talk to Deuce right now.” Before she could say anything more, I jumped up and was out the door, pulling out my phone.

  “Deuce,” I said crossing the deck. “Jackie lives in Key West.”

  I started to pull up her number but Julie stopped me. “You’re only going to scare her, Jesse.” Then she turned to Deuce and said, “Do you think the Colonel can have the Shore Patrol from the station send someone over to her house, before Jesse scares the daylights out of her?”

  “Good idea,” Deuce said and pulled his own phone out. “Jesse, wait until we have security outside her house.” I’m not what you’d call a real patient man. Charity came out of the house and sensed something was going on as I paced the deck.

  Deuce punched a couple of buttons on his phone and after a second he said, “Sorry to wake you, Colonel. There’s been a development.” He told him what happened with Doc and Nikki, gave him the short version on Darchevsky and relayed my concern about Jackie. Then he ended the call.

  “He said he’ll contact the station’s CO and have Shore Patrol send two officers over. When they’re outside, they’ll call me direct. He said the safest thing to do would be for them to escort her to the air station and we can pick her up in the morning.”

  “Morning hell,” I said. “When I know she’s safe, I’m taking the Cigarette to pick her up tonight.”

  Julie got up and came over to me, “Calm down, Jesse. Going down there in the middle of the night isn’t smart and you know it. She’ll be safe at the station and besides even in the Cigarette it would take you nearly two hours to get there and back. And that’s only if you don’t hit something or run aground.”

  I paced some more. After several excruciating minutes, Deuce’s phone chirped. He answered it, listened for a minute and said, “Okay, sit tight.” Then looking up to me he said, “Go ahead and call her, they’re parked outside the house and everything’s quiet.”

  I pulled up her number and hit send. After the third ring she answered groggily. “Jackie, it’s me, Jesse.”

  “Timzit,” she mumbled.

  I looked at my watch and said, “It’s 0300. Something’s happened.”

  She was instantly awake, “What’s wrong?”

  “Someone took a shot at Doc Talbot and his wife. The shooter missed, but he’s been identified as an associate of the man who tried to kill us out on the boat the other day.”

  “Oh my. Where are you?”

  “I’m on the island. Look, there’s a Shore Patrol car outside your house. I think you should go with them to the air station and stay there tonight. I’ll pick you up in the morning.”

  There was a moment of silence and some rustling noise. “Yeah, I see them. It’ll take me a minute to get dressed.”

  “Call me back when you’re in the car, okay.”

  “Are you sure this is necessary?”

  “The guy’s a former CIA deep cover operative and a Russian natural. He’s dangerous.”

  “Okay,” she said. “I’ll call you in a few minutes.”

  I ended the call and told Deuce, “Tell them she’ll be out in five minutes.”

  He relayed the message and ended the call. Deuce handed me the complete file on Darchevsky and I sat down under the torch to read it while we waited. Some parts of it were redacted, even with Chyrel’s ability to get information. He wasn’t a simple flunky like the other two had been. This guy was the real deal, responsible for at least five assassinations in Western Europe. He was probably the leader of the three man team.

  As if reading my thoughts, Deuce said, “My guess is that the other two guys worked for Darchevsky. Smith might have put them together, but this guy’s the boss.”

  “Yeah, that was what I was thinking, too,” I said. “We need to get this guy off the streets. Did Stockwell say anything about alerting local law enforcement?”

  “He said for me to use my best judgment. I’ll go down and have Chyrel put an APB out on him for all of south Florida.”

  Five minutes went by, then ten. Finally my phone chirped. When I answered it, Jackie was breathing hard and said in a rushed voice, “Jesse, there was a shooting. I’m fine, but one of the officers was hit. He’ll probably be alright, I’m taking him into emergency surgery now. I can’t talk, but I’ll call you when I come out.” The call ended.

  “What’s going on?” Charity asked. My face must have shown my reaction to the call.

  “One of the officers was shot,” I said. “Jackie’s taking him into surgery now.” First Deuce and me, then Doc and Nikki, and now Jackie. I felt a surge of anger rushing up from my gut. The slow burn turned white hot and my mind began moving faster, planning out the next series of events. I’d felt this way under fire in Somalia, Iraq, and Grenada. It sharpened everything. My vision, hearing, and smell all became acute, along with my ability to think far ahead.

  Chapter 13: Invasion of Key West

  I looked at my watch. It was almost 0400. Time to sound reveille. “Deuce, I think it’s time we stop letting Smith take the lead now.”

  He stood up and I could see an equally forceful resolve in h
is eyes. “Charity,’ he said. “Go down and let Chyrel know I need a video comm link to Stockwell and ask him to patch in the Secretary and the head of the FBI. And tell Art to sound reveille in the bunkhouses, but be quiet so as not to disturb the Trents.”

  As she turned and headed down the steps, I said, “Deuce, we only have tomorrow to find this guy. Well, that’s today actually.”

  “I know,” he said. “The good thing is, on Fridays everyone is coming into the Keys. We can have the Sheriff set up a roadblock in Key Largo to check out anyone going north and disguise it as a sobriety checkpoint.”

  “Doc,” I said. “You and Nikki go down and crash in the boat. You can get at least a couple of hours sleep. Nothing’s going to happen until sunrise.”

  Doc started to protest, but I insisted. Once they left, the three of us headed down to the bunkhouses. Tony and Sherri were already outside and Deuce motioned for him to join us. I stopped at the tables and lit the six torches around them, before following Deuce into the women’s quarters.

  “The Colonel and Director Mueller are online,” Chyrel said. “Secretary Chertoff will be on any second.”

  Deuce sat down in front of the laptop and said, “Good morning Colonel. Good morning Director. Sorry to bother you so early, but we’ve had two developments in the last hour that you both should be aware of.”

  Just as he finished speaking a third window opened and Chertoff said gruffly, “What’s this all about?”

  “We’ve had two serious developments, sir,” Deuce repeated.

  Stockwell and Mueller both greeted the Secretary and Deuce continued, “Yesterday afternoon in Key West an unknown assailant fired two shots at one of our team and his wife. He missed, but Talbot’s wife got a good look at him and identified Dimitri Darchevsky as the shooter. You should all have his bio on your screen.”

  “You said two developments?” Mueller asked.

  “Yes sir,” Deuce continued unflustered. “Thirty minutes ago, while two members of NAS Boca Chica were picking up Commander Burdick, who was with us last weekend when the President was attacked, shots were fired, wounding one of the officers. We believe it to be Darchevsky.”