Wood's Reef (19 page)

Gordon went back to his office. The evidence clearly suggested that Gillum was on some kind of rogue mission, trying to recover a bomb. Interesting, he’d just read that Ward had served in Key West as well. Intrigued at the long shot that there might be a connection, he pulled up the VP’s record and compared it to Gillum’s. Looking even further, he noted that Gillum was in armaments and Ward had been a pilot in the same division during the Cuban Missile Crisis.

Not a fan of the Vice President, along with most of the military, he tried to remain impartial and give the man the benefit of the doubt. He considered both sides, but had a job to do.

Chapter 34

The weekly cabinet meeting was underway when Vice President Ward walked in, late as usual. He took his seat and opened the folder laid out in front of him. The President, soon to be a lame duck, was strictly in legacy building mode. He’d been that way for months now. His recent motto, coined by Ward, was
Don’t screw it up.
Avoid a crisis, delay any hearings, and hope nothing new surfaced in the world at large in the next few months. And God forbid, no press conferences.

Ward was not opposed to this. He’d actually helped author it. Anything attached to the current administration, especially if it were bad, was bound to reflect on him as well. With days left in his campaign, he needed clear skies and following seas. He remembered the term from his Navy days. A smooth ride, no mistakes until Tuesday and, if the polls held up, he’d be president. 

The meetings were getting shorter and shorter as the election neared. Decisions were put on the back burner for the next administration to handle. One by one, the cabinet members and their aides exited the room, leaving the President and Vice President alone. 

“How’s the campaign shaping up, Joe?” the President asked. “I’ve been looking at the polls, and it looks like you’re pretty solid. Lock up Florida and you’re going to be sitting in my chair.” 

“I’m headed down there now.” Ward skipped the usual ass kissing formalities — he was near exhaustion. “A stop in Tampa and then it’s all about Dade and Broward Counties.”

The current President had raised the height of the bar for future elections. He was an experienced and formidable campaigner. His campaign strategies would be in text books.“You’ve got a great team behind you.” He’d assembled the team for himself four years ago, and knew they were the best. Ward winning this campaign would be another feather in his legacy cap. Ward was clearly riding the President’s coat tails. “What can I do to help you?”

The offer, although phrased as a question, was really not. The President’s ego would not permit him to sit on the sidelines and watch his underling win without his face prominently in the foreground. 

“What do you have in mind?” Ward knew the rules as well. Unlike some past presidents, whose appearances were liabilities to the candidates, the President was popular and would be an asset.

“Why don’t we tag team Florida? If we’re both out there, the press will have to cover both of us. That means your opponent will get less coverage. We’ll be front and center — right where you need to be. Then we can meet up on Sunday and do some kind of church thing for the conservatives.”

Ward had to admit that the man was a master. “Great. I was going to do a rally Saturday afternoon in Miami. Focus on the anniversary of the Cuban Missile Crisis. Tossing Kennedy’s name out there never hurt anyone.”

“Done. I’ll be there. Then we can go to church on Sunday. That’ll be a great photo op, walking out of church.”

The two men clasped hands and did a quick man hug, then collected their things and headed out.

“One more thing, Joe. Honor the veterans. It’s close to Veteran’s Day. Bringing in some military for the rally will make this more colorful.”

“I’ve got some ideas on that, sir.”

***

Back in his office across the street in the Old Executive Office Building, Ward sat across from his campaign manager.

“We need a good spot for this rally.” Ward focused on the man working his iPad, his mind racing through ideas.

“I’m checking out some spots right now. I’m thinking something close to Homestead, just south of Miami, would be good. We don’t have enough notice to reserve a big-time venue. The security alone would be impossible to arrange. Homestead Air Force Base may be too military looking for us, but Bayfront Park looks better. It’s close to the base. They can set up the security for the President quickly, and there will be plenty of uniforms from the base around for show.”

“Sounds good, let’s do it. We ought to add some Navy men to the mix. I’ve got a buddy who’s the Captain of the Naval station in Key West. I want him in a prominent place.”

“Got it. Get me his contact info and I’ll set it up.”

Ward hit the intercom button on his phone and called for his aide, who walked in, phone to her ear as usual. She hung up as she made eye contact. “Sir?”

“You guys need to make some arrangements. I’ll leave you to it.” As an afterthought, he asked for her phone.

He stepped out of the office and dialed Gillum’s number. There was static as he answered.

“Jim, you there?” Ward asked, trying to break through the static. 

“On the road, sir. Going to take care of our problem right now.”

“Good. I need you in Homestead tomorrow afternoon. Bring it with you.”

“Shouldn’t be a problem.”

“Make sure. I’m counting on you.”

Chapter 35

“What up, Behzad? What brings you to my humble business?” 

Behzad cringed as they walked in the door of the UHaul dealer. Nothing was going his way today — some kind of karma, he guessed. The clerk, a customer of his, was Key West cool. UHaul uniform shirt untucked, short sleeves rolled up showing some ink, a few too many buttons undone to reveal nothing anyone really wanted to see. He had enough hair gel in his spikes to reflect the fluorescent lighting. The mandatory earrings and nose ring adorned his freshly shaved face. All in all, it couldn’t be worse.

“You sure are well known here, Behzad.”

He ignored the comment. Cesar and now this dude, whose name eluded him. His associations were not looking good to the intolerant Ibrahim. He thought about buying a prayer rug and getting tight with Allah, just to make up for it.

“We need to rent a truck,” Ibrahim said.

“That’s what we do. Hey Behzad, that was some party the other night.”

“Enough. We need a truck.”

“What’s up with your friend? It’s the Keys, man, chillax.”

Sweat broke out on Behzad’s face. He leaned over the counter and whispered to the clerk, “I’ll make it worth your while if you help my friend out here.” 

The clerk was all business now. “What size truck, and for how long? I’ll hook you up with our best deal.”

“Thank you,” Ibrahim said.

“Something like that.” He pointed outside. “That will work. We need it for several days.”

“No problem, you can have that one. I’ll give it to you for a week at a special rate.” He winked at Behzad, who felt like he was about to throw up.

“Very well. Any problem if we pay in cash?”

“No, cash is good. Just can’t insure it.” The clerk looked proud of himself. “Give me a grand for the deposit and I’ll refund the difference when you bring it back.”

Ibrahim counted out ten $100 bills from his pocket. 

The clerk grabbed it and handed over the keys. “Take care of that truck now, you didn’t buy any insurance. No hazardous materials.” He winked at Behzad again.

***

“You don’t look so well,” Ibrahim said as Behzad pulled out of the lot. 

“I’m just not used to driving a truck.” 

“First the drug dealers, now this man, you sure it’s not your associations here? You have some interesting friends.”

“Key West is an interesting place.” Behzad rolled down the window and moved toward the door, trying to put as much space as possible between him and Ibrahim. The thought of opening the door and bailing onto the street began to cross his mind. The last thing he had wanted when he contacted Ibrahim was for his life to be under a fundamentalist microscope. Meeting his associates and seeing how he lived was not part of the plan.

The tension mounted as they drove in silence, retracing their route from this morning. As they neared Marathon, Ibrahim appeared anxious.

“The infidel, we have not heard from him. I don’t trust him. Do you suppose he just took our money?”

Behzad was thankful for a distraction from himself. “You’re right, he should have called and checked in by now.” Deception was in Behzad’s DNA. His brain churned, working out the best way to find him. “He needs a boat. We could check the boat rentals and ramps.”

“There're boat rentals and ramps every ten feet around here,” Ibrahim said, glancing at either side of the road. They were just passing a sign for a boat ramp at 33
^rd
Street. “We might as well start there.”

“It’s a shot in the dark. He could be anywhere.” Behzad was not sure how he wanted this to play out. His system was strung out from too much partying and not enough sleep. He’d finished his stash in the restroom at the truck rental, leaving a small pile for the clerk. He should have left him more, but greed overtook him. The road to paradise was paved with potholes. 

“We need to start somewhere. He’s either going to buy the cheapest boat he can, or rent one. He said that he wrecked a rental boat last week, so I don’t think he can rent another. We’ve got nothing to lose.”

Chapter 36

They were back in the interrogation room. Doans had a bag of fast food in front of him. “I guess you found something.”

“I confirmed part of your story. They were gone, though,” Jules said.

“Not my problem.” He was stuffing fries into his mouth, his other hand on the burger. When he needed a drink, he leaned over and sipped through the straw. No one was taking his food.

“Depends what you want worse. I could hold you on suspicion of terrorist activity until Homeland Security decides what to do, or just lock you up on assault and reckless endangerment and let the DA’s office deal with it. Either way, you’re not walking out of here. I’d change my attitude if I was you.”

Doans was in the middle of processing a large piece of the burger. “Oh, come on. You’ve got nothing to hold me on.”

“Maybe I’ll cut this food fest short and release you then, but I’m keeping the money for evidence. What’s to say the story you gave me is true? Could be your friends paid you the $25,000 for telling them where the bomb is. They could be on their way out there to recover it right now, while you’re sitting in here stuffing you face. Maybe they’re wondering where the gringo with their money went, and are looking for you. Who knows?”

Doans finished chewing the burger and jammed a handful of fries in his mouth. “I’d never betray my country like that. You can’t keep my money.”

“We’ll see about that. Get up. You’re released.”

He hesitated. "What about the rest of my stuff?”

“The deputy will turn over everything but the cash on your way out.”

***