Sins of the Fatherland (Scott Jarvis Investigations Book 6)

by Scott Cook

  She laughed, “I said that? That doesn’t sound like me at all, detective. I’ll see you there at nine.”

  I let Morgan out for a constitutional, jumped in the shower and headed out toward the west side of Orlando with a quick pit stop at the closest Dunkin Donuts for a much needed coffee and not that much needed glazed and chocolate frosted donut.

  Elmwood Isles was a typical modern Orlando subdivision in an affluent area. Three thousand or so square foot homes with two and three car garages, swimming pools and manicured lawns. Toward the rear of the mid-sized housing development was a ten acre lake where the lucky few dozen home owners had water facing back yards.

  I pulled up in front of one of these and parked next to a black BMW that was definitely not a rental. Or at least not any Hertz economy, that’s for sure.

  The statuesque Amazonian figure of Audrey Lambert stood in front of the vehicle waiting for me. She was wearing an understated pair of black slacks and a red silk blouse belted at the waist. She wore a black blazer over this that was either tailor made or she’d been extremely lucky to find an off the rack coat that fit her figure so perfectly.

  “Good morning,” She said pleasantly, “Sleep well?”

  “Like a log,” I lied.

  She grinned and led the way inside. The home was furnished in a conservative style. A tiled foyer led into a huge great room done up in area rugs, burgundy leather sofas and chairs with hand-carved stone tables and brass lamps. It was tasteful, understated and a bit nautical.

  “Granddad?” Audrey called out.

  “Out here, Bunny,” Came a slightly raspy man’s voice from beyond a sliding glass wall.

  “Bunny?” I teased.

  “Ever since I was a little girl,” She said with a wink.

  We walked out onto a large deck that overlooked the lake. There wasn’t a pool, but a small dock extended out over the water. The dock ended in an octagonal gazebo ringed with wooden benches.

  At the center of this structure stood a medium tall man. He was lean without being skinny and held himself erect. He had wispy white hair and a bronzed face lined with age.

  Yet as I drew close, I was a bit surprised. Aside from his posture, he seemed rather robust for a man in his early nineties. He set a cup of coffee down on a bench and extended his hand to me.

  “So this is the famous detective,” The old man said in a voice that belied his age. The voice was firm and confident and had a slight accent I couldn’t place. His handshake was firm and his spotted hand still commanded a pretty impressive grip, “Thank you for coming, Mr. Jarvis.”

  I looked askance at Audrey who chuckled a little, “Surprised?”

  “Uhm…” I said lamely.

  The old man laughed, “Henry Lambert. My friends call me Hank. Don’t feel bad, Mr. Jarvis. Most folks don’t expect a man my age to still be running on all four diesels.”

  I smiled, “A pleasure to meet you, sir. I hope I’m half as fit as you when I’m ninety-three.”

  “Clean living and dirty thinking, son… well, not too clean anyway!” Lambert said, indicating that I should sit, “Got some oil here, if you’d like a cup. How about you, Bunny?”

  Audrey smiled shyly, “You’ve got to cut that out, granddad.”

  Lambert scoffed, “I have to do no such thing, sweetheart. Make the man a cup of joe, would you?”

  I started to warm up to the guy. He had a casual and confident air about him. Like a man who’d spent a lot of time in the service, which he had I knew.

  “Well, Mr. Lambert,” I began, settling onto a bench and enjoying the quiet cool morning, “Your granddaughter thinks I can be of some help to you.”

  Lambert eased himself onto a bench across from me with a groan, “Christ… getting’ old is for the birds. And call me Hank, son. If we’re going to work together I can’t have any formality. I’m gonna call you Scott, so you might as well drop the sir business. I started a working man and I’ll by God end as one. Retired Master Chief, you know. Served in the big war, Korea and even early Vietnam if you can believe that.”

  I smiled and sipped the strong coffee, “Actually I can.”

  “You ever serve?” Lambert asked.

  I shook my head, “Thought about it. Would’ve joined the navy but got wrapped up in joining the force out of high school.”

  Lambert’s eyes twinkled, “I knew that. Just wanted to see what you’d say. You’d be amazed how many men try to bullshit you when it comes to the service. I do know you’re a sailor, though.”

  I nodded, “Most of my life. Love the sea.”

  “Good man,” Lambert said, “you a cigar man?”

  I grinned, “As a matter of fact, yes.”

  Lambert leaned forward and opened a wooden box sitting on the table built in the center of the twelve foot wide gazebo. He withdrew two stogies and handed one to me, “got these not long ago. Genuine Cuban Havana’s. If they’re good enough for that asshole Raul, they’re good enough for me. They go good with that coffee.”

  “Granddad!” Audrey protested, “You know those aren’t good for you. And it’s nine in the morning.”

  Lambert used a cutter to snip the end of his cigar and handed it to me, “Oh, hell, Bunny. Everything’s bad for you nowadays. And for Christ’s sake, I’m ninety-three years of age. Who the hell wants to live forever? It’s not like I’m having a whiskey with it… not this early. Now either join us or don’t, but don’t poo-poo it.”

  Audrey sighed and shook her head. I laughed. I couldn’t help but really like this good-natured curmudgeon.

  “How’s that treatin’ ya’?” He asked after I’d gotten the cigar lit.

  I blew a cloud of rich smoke through my nose, “Damned fine, Master Chief. Damned fine leaf. So how can I be of service?”

  Lambert leaned back and puffed languidly for a moment. He seemed to take great pleasure in the smoke, “how much do you know about Florida?”

  “Quite a bit,” I said, “I’m a Rhode Islander turned Floridian. I think Florida is a fascinating place. Both environmentally as well as historically. I read a lot and am an outdoors person.”

  Lambert nodded, “I know what you mean. I love it here. You know the funny thing is that before I joined the navy, I’d never even seen the ocean. I’m from Wisconsin originally and the closest thing we had was the lake.”

  That was the accent. It was subtle but there.

  “I’m a water baby,” I said, “Been one all my life.”

  “But what I mean by my question,” the old Master chief continued, “Is how much do you know about the physical makeup of the Sunshine state?”

  I thought for a moment. I hadn’t expected a geology quiz, “Well… I know that Florida sits atop a huge volcanic rock shelf known as the Florida platform. On top of this, of course, is a three mile thick Karst structure formed of limestone on top of which rests the visible surface of the state. This Karst structure represents the state’s aquifer and encompasses many springs and sink holes as well as an intricate sub-terrainian river system that’s supposed to run from as far north as southern Georgia out under the Keys. Although much of the state is flat, there are hilly regions starting just north of Orlando. On the other side of the spectrum, southern Florida is dominated by the Everglades which is in actuality… or was… a gigantic river flowing south from Lake Okeechobee to Florida bay. We’ve also got the only living coral reef in the country in the Keys as well. Those are the highlights, anyway.”

  Lambert smiled and nodded, “I see you know your stuff. That’s good.”

  “Is my limited knowledge of Florida geology important to whatever it is you need help with?”

  “What did Audrey tell you so far?”

  “That the Nazi’s ran a U-boat into the Gulf a few months after the war with some very dangerous intent,” I said, “And that something from that mission threatens the state and maybe the nation, today. Something serious enough that the CIA has taken an interest.”

  Lambert blew a smoke ring and sighed, “
Well, I was the one who got them interested. Through Bunny here. But yes, Scott… Hitler’s last gasp is a real thing and I’m afraid that if we don’t act quickly and carefully that his plan may yet come to fruition.”

  “It’s just hard to believe…” I said, “That a seventy-five year old submarine mission could have repercussions today. Wait… does it have something to do with Florida geology? Is that why you asked about that?”

  Lambert nodded and a thin smile crossed his face, “You’ve got it. What do you know about streptococcus?”

  “Not much,” I admitted, “Other than it’s a classification of bacteria. It causes strep throat, pink eye, meningitis and some other things. Including that flesh eating stuff you hear about now and then.”

  “Right,” Lambert said, “Necrotizing fasciitis brought on by an invasion of streptococcus pyogenes bacteria. An extremely painful and unpleasant death that often starts by fast acting gangrene in the crotch.”

  I inhaled deeply, “That’s what supposedly killed Harrod Agrippa.”

  “Yes, and his grandfather, Harrod the Great,” Lambert confirmed, “Nasty way to go. Although in modern times there are treatments if caught soon enough… or at least for normal strains.”

  “Jesus Christ…” I breathed, “Are you telling me that German boat was going to release some kind of extra-virulent strain of this stuff in Florida… into the aquafers?”

  “That’s right,” Lambert said, “Good old Joseph Mengela had done it again. But it’s not that they had a few tons of bacteria on board the boat… the plan went much further than that. I don’t know all the details, but the bacteria was to be introduced in a way that would allow it to not only filter down through the aquifer, but to replicate as it did.”

  “Eco terrorism,” I breathed, “Imagine the destruction that would cause… Florida’s drinking water poisoned.”

  “At first,” Lambert said, “Then as the strain multiplied and expanded, it would eventually reach the Everglades. It could literally turn this state into a graveyard for generations.”

  “What mind could conceive of such a thing…?” Audrey said quietly.

  “The point is,” Lambert said, “That shit is still out there, at the bottom of the Gulf.”

  “My God…” I said, “It’s been seventy-five years… suppose whatever container it was in broke open? Or already has? On the other hand, could any of it still be alive?”

  “As I understand it,” Lambert said, “It certainly can have survived all that time. It was locked up in glass lined concrete canisters and suspended in a nutrient medium that both sustained the organisms and kept their metabolic rates extremely low.”

  “So what is it I can do?” I asked in complete bewilderment, “It sounds like the government should launch a full scale recovery of the boat along with a complete bio-hazard team and CDC people. Why hire a private detective?”

  “We’ve got a problem,” Audrey cut in, “First, if nobody found the submarine, then eventually either the bacteria would die off or the containers would dissolve and the seawater would finish the job. This variety can only survive in fresh or brackish water.”

  “Then leave it the hell alone,” I offered.

  Lambert snorted derisively, “Unfortunately, that’s not an option. Someone else has uncovered our little secret and Audrey and I have it on good authority that they’re already hunting for the boat.”

  Chapter 6

  “Again I ask,” I said spreading my hands, “I’m just one guy and hardly qualified. Why me and why not an entire team from Homeland security, the FBI, and whoever else?”

  “The reason you’ve never heard this story,” Audrey said, “Is because of exactly this scenario. Things are far more complex than we’ve explained so far.”

  “I’m listening,” I said.

  She sighed, “The CIA… the government in general… doesn’t know anything about this. Granddad and I are working alone, for now.”

  That explained why they’d come to me and why this wasn’t all over the news.

  “I’ve got two questions then,” I began.

  Hank laughed, “Only two?”

  I smiled, “Well, I’ve got a lot of them, but two I think we need to clear up right now. First, how do you know somebody else has uncovered this little secret?”

  Hank sighed and tapped his ash over the railing into the lake, “This incident was classified at the highest levels back in forty-five. All records, what records there were, were sealed and forgotten. It was thought that by the time the canisters broke, if they hadn’t from the sinking, it’d be so far in the future it wouldn’t matter. And as Bunny pointed out, the bacteria break down rapidly in seawater. So, in essence, there was no threat. The ship went down on the outer edge of the middle grounds in several thousand feet of water. Done and done.”

  “Uh-huh,” I said, suspecting another revelation.

  “Except it didn’t go down in five hundred fathoms,” Hank said, “It went down much shallower. That’s issue number one. Second, I received a phone call two days ago from a treasure hunter named Jack Brody. Ever hear of him?”

  I nodded, “I’ve heard some snippets. He specializes in modern wrecks. Not hunting for the Atocha like Mel Fisher but he likes to salvage world war two memorabilia. He’s gotten more than his share of flak from historians and other groups who feel that he’s nothing more than a high tech grave robber.”

  “Precisely,” The old man said, “As you may or may not know, maritime law states that all military wrecks belong to their home nations in perpetuity. They’re considered sovereign property no matter how long they’ve been resting on the bottom. However, there are plenty of legal loopholes that allow guys like Brodie to pilfer items from these wrecks under the premise of historical research.”

  He said this last with disgust.

  “And I take it that Brody’s research is quite profitable for him,” I observed.

  Hank nodded, “he’s getting filthy rich off of disturbing the resting places of our brave boys. Ours and other nations, too.”

  “So somehow he got wind of this Nazi mission and wants to find the wreck?” I asked.

  Hank exchanged a look with his granddaughter and smiled ruefully, “not exactly. That’s our one saving grace, or the one thing that gives us time. He’s not after the U-boat… he’s after another boat. The American boat that was in the area at the time.”

  “And you’re afraid he’ll stumble on the Nazi submarine,” I said.

  “Yes,” He confirmed, “But it’s more than that. Brody is looking for the U.S.S. Dogfish. The Dogfish was supposed to be carrying a cargo of Nazi bullion that was discovered in Argentina, blah, blah, blah.”

  “Was that your ship?” I asked.

  Hank grinned, “Yes… or at least that’s the official word. However, the entire story is made up. Not only is there no Nazi gold, but no Dogfish either. That was just a cover story to explain things.”

  “Then what’s the problem?” I asked, “Sounds like this guy’s gonna spend a lot of his time and money hunting down a phantom. Who can that hurt?”

  “It’s only a partial lie,” Audrey explained further, “Brody has enough information in his hands to stumble across the Ariovistis… that’s the U-boat. U-2626.”

  “Uh-oh,” I said.

  “There’s more,” Hank continued, “We’ve done some research. By we I mean Bunny here. Brody’s gearing up for a big salvage op. And he’s got backers who we’ve traced to the Middle East.”

  Now I was starting to get the picture. I leaned in and my mouth felt dry. I swallowed a healthy gulp of coffee before saying, “Let me get this straight… This Brody guy found out about you and thinks you can help him find the Dogfish which doesn’t exist. What you’re really worried about is that he’ll find U-2626 instead… and his Middle Eastern backers, which I assume you suspect are connected with some Islamic extremist group or other will get their hands on the flesh eating virus and the Nazi plan and carry it out for themselves. Is that the basi
c plot?”

  Hank nodded, “You’re a sharp tack, son. That’s why we contacted you. I need a man with your qualities to help me stop Brody.”

  “Okay,” I said, “A worthy cause to be sure. But I have to ask why not get the government involved for real? Surely this is an issue of national security and even international import…”

  I trailed off and as both of them smiled at me, I realized the sudden thought that had sprung to mind must have been the right one. The old man even laughed.

  “I think you just answered your own question, didn’t you?” He asked with a twinkle in his blue eyes. Eyes that seemed a lifetime younger than the man himself.

  “If the world finds out that we’ve been covering up the fact that a deadly biological weapon is being hidden out in the Gulf of Mexico…” I stated slowly.

  “then the world will accuse us of breaking the Geneva convention,” Audrey finished for me, “Organizations like Al Qaeda and ISIS will say that we’ve been hiding this to use against our enemies. The repercussions to foreign policy and even the global economy could be devastating.”

  I felt overwhelmed. This wasn’t the first time I’d dealt with a case that had international elements. My first big one, in fact, had involved the mafia selling stolen military technology to Cuba. Yet that was peanuts by comparison.

  “You see,” Hank continued almost as if he’d read my mind, “You’re no stranger to espionage. Your experience and proven abilities make you the most likely candidate for our needs.”

  “If we can head this off,” Audrey said, “then it becomes a non-issue and the world never has to know. But if Brody finds that boat…”

  “I get it,” I said, “But why not just misdirect him, Hank? Tell him to search in the wrong place. The ocean is incredibly vast, even the Gulf of Mexico. It’s orders of magnitude more vast when you’re trying to search the bottom inch by inch.”

  “Because he’s got enough information to look in the right place,” The ex-submariner said, “It’s only a matter of time.”

  “So what do I do?” I asked.

  “Several things,” Audrey said, “You and I find that damned boat first. We also want you to investigate Brody and learn more about him, what he knows and who he’s working for. You’ve got all the qualifications needed. You’re an experienced sailor and scuba diver. That’s on top of your physical abilities.”