The Last Operation (The Remnants of War Series, Book 1) (25 page)

"That's my business, remember? Five days."

"No. Three's the most. I'll give you three days."

"Fine. I'll do it. Now call your Blackhawk. I want you and Hart out of my hair tonight."

Daniels called Kate on the cell phone. She answered on the first ring.

"Richard, my God I've been worried sick. What happened to you?"

"Not much Kate. I'm involved in a bit of a situation out here that I have to handle for some people. Not much choice about it."

"Richard, be careful, please. I've been doing a lot of thinking lately you know. I've got to get my life back together again. You were right. It's time. Maybe there can be such a thing as us. I think you know what I'm trying to say. I don't want to lose you, I don't think I could stand it."

"I always cared for you Kate. You know that. I've been waiting a long time for you to work this out."

"I know Richard. I wish you were here now. Can you come to Naples? Do you want me to meet you in Everglades City?"

"You know that's what I want Kate. I'm tired of this. I want to be with you more than anything, but this has to be finished first. There's no choice."

"All right, I'll wait. But when it's over, you're mine. Now what can I do to help?"

"Plenty. First: What happened with Deeno?"

"I picked him up two nights ago, scott-free. All charges dropped. There's a large compensation trust fund that's been set up by the Fed to compensate for their "mistake." There was so much money involved I signed the agreement and waiver as his representative. Nobody can even begin to figure out what this was all about. We trace it from one source to another in the Federal Government until it makes endless circles. We'll never get the answer."

"Oh I got the answer all right, but where's Deeno now?" asked Daniel.

"You know he's not comfortable anywhere but in that swamp with those Indians. It's his world and when he's in it, it's like he's not handicapped at all. I couldn't even get him to stay at the Condo for the night. I had to drive him back to Everglades City so he could get in his boat and go back home. At two AM mind you. I wasn't happy about it but he was so upset, I figured it was the best thing to do. I hope I did the right thing."

"You did Kate. That's his world. He's like a force of nature out there. In our so-called civilized world, he's just another retarded person."

"I also looked into your situation. You were right when you called me the other day. You had a world of shit. Impound orders on your plane and cars and a warrant out for you. All Federal. Same crap as with Deeno. Everything's vanished like it's a simple mistake, not a chance of trailing it to anyone or anything. Richard what's going on? What are you involved in? Please don't shut me out. I can help. I've got pull, you know that."

"Kate I can't have you involved in it, but I'll be okay, you can take that to the bank. What I need you to do now is to find out anything you can about something called Subsidiary Data Acquisition."

"What the hell is that? A computer program or one of those internet companies?"

"Neither. It's supposed to be a secret government agency operating under the National Security Agency. It's designated to handle their black operations. Covert work that they don't want anybody to know anything about. The assistant director is somebody named Conboy. He's got a lackey named Hart. Try to find out what you can. How they're funded, what kind of things they do on the record, whatever you can come up with. Also, get a hold of Bobby-Ray."

"Christ, Richard. That loose cannon?"

"He's not as bad as you think Kate. He saved my ass in Afghanistan. He just gets a little wild now and then, but you can trust him. Ask him to stand by in case I need him. Tell him Carlos is out of commission for a while. I don't want Bobby-Ray to be on a bender if I have to call him."

"Okay. And Richard, one more thing."

"What?"

"Take good care. I love you."

Chapter 35

Richard Daniels looked at the array of weapons in the secure room he used as an armory. His eyes went over the deadly forms in their groupings: Machine pistols, assault rifles, grenade launchers, all resting in their racks like slumbering nightmares.

Daniels strapped a .45 to the right side of his waist, companion to the Marine K-Bar knife on the other side. He selected an Israeli made Uzi paratrooper sub-machine gun with folding stock, a Winchester 30-30 with scope and an M-79 grenade launcher. He placed the weapons on the table and looked at them for long moments.

None of it felt right. He had a feeling like something squirming, screaming in his gut. He left the weapons where they were and went outside, Taloona's words echoing in his ears.

Trust your spirit.

Last night, about a half hour before midnight, Conboy's Blackhawk had come. Using the locating beacon set up earlier, the big helicopter settled in the clearing fronting Daniels' camouflaged house like a gigantic black dragonfly. Conboy and Hart had gotten on, the red and white strobes of the helicopter highlighting
their movements in flashing, multicolored frames
.

Daniels had been glad to see them leave, their parting like a cloud cover lifting
.
Perhaps the meeting with Taloona had sharpened his senses, brought him some mystical view. Or maybe it just gave him a fresher outlook. He'd had the impression of festering odors of death about Conboy and Hart. Much as he was glad to see those two go, he missed his friend Carlos and his high-strung, jovial Mexican ways.

* * *

Richard Daniels took the Catamaran and left at the first gloomy light of morning. Dark rolling clouds hung low in the sky and the air was saturated with humidity. Ground fog rose from the water and marshland with foggy tentacles curling up everywhere like a myriad of ghostly wraiths. Far off in the distance, Daniels heard the rumble of South Florida lightning, the sound drowned out when he started the big-bore Chevy 454 that powered the jet drive on the Catamaran.

Daniels' Catamaran was a unique boat well suited to its environment. It would operate equally well in six inches of water or as an offshore ocean racer. Except for the K-bar knife, Daniels had taken no weapons. He steered the boat past the islets that concealed his base and headed out the channel toward Spirit Wolf's island.

It was raining when he reached the island, a light drizzle that presaged a coming storm. He tied the Catamaran to the log that supported the small dock where Spirit Wolf's airboat was moored. Daniels stepped off the dock and walked the sawgrass-lined path to the house. He felt a heavy body rub lightly against his left tight
.
He stopped and ran his hand down the flank of the big Florida panther as she vanished in the fog. Spirit Wolf sat under the canvas overhang that passed for a porch. Daniels took a seat across from him on one of the rough wood stools.

"How is my friend? How is Carlos?" asked Daniels.

"He rests, he will be well. He will live to be a very old man with many children and grandchildren. It is not for him I am concerned."

Daniels looked up at the roiling clouds building toward a storm then back at the big Indian.

"I must see this through," said Daniels. "There is a rot, a cancer out there that cannot be allowed to spread. It's tied in to some bad events in the past. I can feel it. I have to figure it out and stop it somehow."

Spirit Wolf stood. His head almost touched the top of the canopy. He picked up two decorated short-handled axes. He held one in front of Daniels.

"Violence and death," said Spirit Wolf. With a movement so rapid Daniels' eye could hardly follow, he hurled the axe through the drizzle and fog. It landed with a soggy thump, the blade buried to the hilt in a nearby pine.

He held the other axe in front of Daniels. He threw it in the direction of the same pine. It embedded itself in the tree just below the first axe.

"Brings more violence and death. You must break the cycle."

"I intend to—that man out there, no matter what they have done to him, he is still a man. I believe he may hold the key to all this. I want to talk with him. I will not hunt him down like an animal. My days of hunting men are over."

A gust of wind rattled some branches above the roof of the hut. Spirit Wolf looked up at the gray sky and the low clouds. He returned his gaze to Daniels.

"You will take Deeno with you."

Spirit Wolf said it as a statement, like someone would comment on the rain or the color of the grass. No answer was needed between them.

"Watch him Richard. He is a true innocent. His is a spirit of beauty and light, and watch yourself. I dreamed about you last night. I dreamed you lay among the roots of the Red Mangroves. The water was shallow, muddy, and red with blood, and he dark man was hovering over you with a gun."

"How does it end?"

"It doesn't. I listened to the night and there was no answer. That means I saw what might be, what may happen. But if your spirit is strong, you will have the Uhalotega, the Head of All Power. It will walk with you."

"Thank you my friend," Daniels said as he turned and left.

Chapter 36

Daniels took the Catamaran five miles up the winding narrow channel between islands of sawgrass and Cypress pools until he came to the village where Deeno lived.

It wasn't a village as so much a conglomeration of huts and cottages. Most were built with planks, canvas and glass, imported from the mainland and finished with native wild thatch and wood to fill in the gaps. It wasn't an official village or town and you couldn't find it on any maps. It'd grown, one makeshift home after another. The majority of the residents were Seminoles and others who remained in the unique environment of the shifting, always changing Everglades. Mostly they fished, crabbed, shrimped or hired themselves out as guides. Tough and self reliant, Daniels had never encountered people quite like them anywhere else in the world.

He lashed the catamaran to the pontoon dock as the rain came down. A South Florida tropical thunderstorm, it announced itself with violent releases of exploding thunderheads and lightning. Rain drove in vertical sheets, pelting away at the dock and the boats as if they were inside a huge, insane car wash. Daniels made his way to Deeno's cabin as a bolt of lightning struck a tall pine, rendering the air heavy with smoky ozone amidst the wet smells of the surrounding vegetation.

The door opened before he had a chance to knock. He stepped into the cabin and a ferocious bear hug.

"Uncle Richard, uncle Richard," Deeno said, his face fired up in a joyful smile.

At twenty, Deeno was short. The Down's Syndrome prevented his growth past the five foot mark. Years of fishing, poling and rowing had developed his muscles better than any modern gymnasium could have. His movements were usually slow and gentle except when greeting his favorite people, like Daniels, when the excitement would carry him away.

"Easy, easy," said Daniels. "What are you going to do when your uncle gets old? You'll probably break my ribs."

A horrified expression came over the young man's features. "Oh no, Deeno would never hurt you. Deeno loves you."

You always had to be careful when talking with Deeno. He took everything at face value. Concepts of exaggeration or sarcasm were as foreign to him as Swahili. There should be more of that in the world, thought Daniels. We would surely be better off.