SILENT GUNS (44 page)

“
You bet.”

“
What about the
re-trial?”

“
There won’t be one.”

“
I thought that was what this was
all about.”

“
I’m a dead duck,” Trent said.
“Simons is right.”

“
How do we get off this
thing?”

“
Helicopter.”

“
I ain’t never been up in one.
They scare me,” Graves said.

“
Just close your eyes and don’t
look down,” Harper offered.

“
Don’t make funnies,” Graves
warned.

“
Where are we heading?” Madden
asked.

“
A long way away.”

“
How far?”

“
Out of the country.”

“
In a helicopter!!!”

“
Canada?”

“
Christ. That’s nuts! They’d nab
us up there in no time,” Madden exclaimed. “All we’d have to do is
put our foot down anywhere. And Bang! The Mounties will come riding
out of the woods. No thanks.”

“
God! We gotta lug three
suitcases.”

“
Don’t bitch, they’re full of
dough.”

“
When do we split up the loot?”
Graves asked.

“
Not until we get safely out of
the country,” Trent said. “Then, we split it up and go our separate
ways, all right?”

“
So. Where are we going?
Alaska???” Graves asked.

“
That’s not out of the country,
dummy,” Harper said.

“
Aboard a ship sailing to the far
seas,” Madden laughed.

“
Bullshit! An ocean cruise?”
Graves demurred. “‘Copter to Vancouver and hop a cruise
ship?”

“
Don’t be stupid. Horse face,”
Harper chided

“
Watchit, mash mouth,” Graves
warned. “No crap! Where are we goin’?”

“
I told you, for a boat ride,”
Madden laughed.

“
Is that right, Commander?” Graves
nodded dumbly.

“
Madden’s right,” Trent cleared
his throat and stared at the men. “Let’s take a break then I’ll go
over the details.”

Trent dropped through the hatch. Shivering at the
change in temperature, he trod briskly forward to clear his head.
He needed to reassure himself of his escape plan.

* * *

Charlie Wingate lay stretched out flat on his back
nursing a bandaged head. The coshing had left his head ringing with
pangs of getting even, just to find the culprit. Sam Simons had
helicoptered back to Seattle. His boss insisted he stay put for as
long as Burns and Conover remained at the Yard. He had a hunch the
minute the Chief finished dealing with Burns, the game was over.
With Kindler and Scarese dead, and Burns holding a pat hand, he
could see himself just putting in time. The thought depressed him.
The second Trent left the
Missouri
, the Yard would revert to
the backwater it was. Hartwell and Tronquet had expressed disgust
at the way things turned out. Whatever Burns was up to, Tronquet
had said Burns was on his own, Conover had informed. He wondered
how the City bosses would react. Well, he mused, it wasn’t his
problem, anyhow. Simons took his headaches back with him. He wished
he could have gone back, too.

His phone rang.

“
Conover, here. Is that you
Wingate?”

“
Yeah! It’s me. What’s
up?”

“
You’re not going to believe this,
but I got a line on Scarese’s bunkmate. Seems Scarese talked a lot,
liked to brag: they were close buddies. They had a racket going in
the Yard. Why don’t you meet me? We’ll have to do it quietly, it’s
really Navy business. Burns is involved,” Conover said.

“
Where can I catch you?” Wingate,
his battery recharged. “The Green Door. I’ll be there in
twenty-minutes.”

He hung up.

* * *

The Green Door was a riot of off-duty sailors
seeking escape from tedium. Wingate ducked his head away from a
sharp gust of wind, stepped down a flight of stone steps and pushed
his way into the dingy, packed bar. Typically Navy clientele, the
place reeked of damp and stale cigarette smoke. A small, noisy fan
off in a corner labored in a losing cause. The bartender caught
Charlie Wingate’s eye; Wingate waved him off. He spotted Conover in
civvies in a back booth. A sailor sat next to him. His skin was a
sallow, yellowish gray in the dim light. They were talking in
subdued voices. At first the sailor seemed calm and untroubled, but
tensed at Wingate approach. He sat scrunched, and spoke in an oddly
high-pitched, strained voice. He extended a hand, and accompanied
it with a narrow, bland smile.

“
Antoine Jones, petty officer,
2nd. class,” he said, his eyes searched the tavern. “I’m Scarese’s
bunkmate.”

“
I’m Detective Charlie Wingate,
Seattle Police Department, temporarily assigned to the Yard. Jones’
bland grin disappeared as Wingate slid into the booth, blocking him
in.

“
Commander, you didn’t tell me he
was a cop,” Jones blurted. “He’s just after information, Jones,”
Conover pleaded, calmly. “I want you to help him out. He’s trying
to find out what happened to Scarese out there on the
Missouri
.”

“
I don’t want to get in no
trouble, Commander,” Jones flushed to the roots of his blonde crew
cut.

You won’t. Just tell Wingate what you told me.”

“
Well, Scarese was real pumped up
about being asked by the Admiral to get aboard the ship. He was
real high. He was trained for that kinda stuff even before he
joined the Navy, you know, rope climber, skin diver, swimmer. For a
Wop from the Boston, he made it pretty good, but Scarese wanted to
make it big. He always had big ideas, big plans. He talked about
them all the time. What he was going to do when he got out. Stuff
like that. Then, the Admiral gives him this big chance; he was
bowled over. He couldn’t believe it could happen in the Navy,
especially here in the Yard and in peacetime, no less. The Admiral
promised him a big promotion if he pulled it off. Told him he would
be a hero, get all kinds of honors for saving the city. Scarese
bought it.”

“
Pull off what?” Conover
asked.

“
Blow up the turret.”

“
Anything else?”

“
Kill Commander Trent.”

“
What do you mean?”

“
Well, the Admiral told Scarese
either one would be O.K. And, if he got Trent, he’d give him an
extra bonus.”

“
A bonus? What did the Admiral
mean?”

“
Well, Scarese said he took it to
mean big bucks, some kind of money reward, plus the promotion for
blowing up the turret. The Admiral said, either one will stop Trent
cold and salvage the Navy’s reputation. That’s what he wanted
done.”

“
What about the first time
out?”

“
The Admiral chewed Scarese out
something fierce. He accused him of lying about the tossing the
firelock over the side. He said he was told Trent could still fire
and that he’d better get his ass back out there and do his job or
there’d be no promotion, no nothing. Well, Scarese got pissed off.
But, you don’t chomp on an Admiral. So he said he’d go again. The
Admiral said he wanted proof this time.”

“
Then what happened?”

“
He and the Admiral took off and
he came back with a bag of grenades. He said the Admiral wanted a
piece of clothing, identification or something as proof, like
Trent’s wallet maybe, or the likes. We’ll, Scarese is pretty
scummy, but he got scared. He swore to me the Admiral was asking
him to murder Trent without actually asking. He said, it was almost
like an order, but it wasn’t.”

“
Does anyone else know what you
told us?”

“
Good God. No. The Admiral swore
Scarese to secrecy, to keep his mouth shut; but Scarese always
talked too much. At least, he would tell me things he wouldn’t tell
nobody else. He trusted me. We were partners. We had a scam going
in the Yard. Am I going to get in any trouble?”

“
Not if I can help it,” Conover
volunteered.

“
I guess I better get back,
now.”

“
Would you be willing to testify
to the Police on what Scarese told you?”

“
Holy shit! The Admiral would fry
my buns.”

“
Scarese was your friend. And he’s
dead, now.”

“
Yeah!”

“
If you’d be willing to come to
Police headquarters and sign a statement, we’d arrest the
Admiral.”

“
My God! What will happen to
me?”

“
We’d get you transferred, for
one.”

Conover said, taking a deep breath. “I know what you
are going through with the Admiral. I’ve been there.”

“
I don’t know. I’d have to think
about it. Do I have a choice?”

“
Yes, you do.”

“
There’s more.”

“
You say your name is
Wingate.”

“
Yes.”

“
Were you standing on a bluff
overlooking the anchorage last Sunday, late afternoon?”

“
Yeah! Why?”

“
I’m the guy who took you
out.”

* * *

Trent toyed with the idea of putting Simons off.
Both sides seemed relieved at the truce. But, no one was fooled; it
was a cease-fire of convenience, a fact his men chose to ignore.
For them, the excitement had dulled. For them, it was over. They
did their part and were anxious to be away and paid off. That was
the easy part; unfortunately, getting away was not so simple. There
was a price to be paid. The other side would extract their pound of
flesh. That he too must leave sharpened his concern.

“
Simons. I said I’d call you
back.”

“
I’ve been expecting it. That was
quite a TV show last night, wasn’t it? Burns. The Mayor. Was that
what you wanted?”

“
A meaningless charade,” Trent
replied, “Seems I tried to do too much too fast.”

“
I don’t know what else you could
have done. No evidence. No proof. What was in Farr’s letter?”
Simons inquired.

“
Farr was grief stricken: but, he
could do nothing but sit by and watch my career destroyed. It ate
at him like a cancer,” Trent said.” He was an honorable man. But,
he offered no proof of duplicity, only a sense or wrong,
injustice.”

“
You can still thank him. He
unknowingly fitted the pieces of the puzzle together. Are you going
with your men?”

“
I have too. Surrender is
pointless.”

“
You realize there is no escape.
You are branded terrorists.”

“
I understand that.”

“
Pursued until caught.”

“
I know.”

“
You can’t hide on the
Missouri
.”

“
We leave tomorrow.”

“
How? What time?”

“
By helicopter. Time 1400,
precisely.”

“
I had assumed a
helicopter.”

“
Send a Coast Guard crew, a pilot
and co-pilot. A Sikorsky Pelican fueled and ready to go. No tricks
or the pilots will pay the price. Remember, as you said, we are
terrorist with nothing to lose. Have the three bags on board. I
will personally check each one for contents before we depart. The
money must be old, unmarked bills, with mixed serial numbers. We
will take our weapons aboard the ‘copter.”

“
Escape will be
difficult.”

“
That depends on whether you catch
us or not.”

“
I look forward to being in on the
chase.”

“
I thought you might
be.”

“
You’ll never make it.”

“
That’s your guess.”

“
Good luck.”

“
Thanks.”

~ * * * ~

CHAPTER 30

Harper wearied of scanning the skies for the
expectant helicopter. He didn’t trust his eyes when finally
something tweaked the corner of his vision. He made out a growing
dark speck suspended under a flashing blade. “‘Copter is in sight.”
Madden set his binoculars to his eyes and watched the speck loom
larger. “It’s a Sikorsky Pelican, all right. Just what we
ordered.”

“
Is he alone?” Graves mumbled. “It
could be a trap.”

Madden swept the skies. “Nothing else in sight.”

“
If he tries anything funny…”
Graves said curling his finger snug against the trigger of the M60
clutched across his chest.

“
Ease off, Graves, we need these
guys,” Madden laid his hand on the gun barrel. Graves brushed his
hand aside and rushed out into the open. He spread his feet apart,
and then shouldered the weapon aimed at the oncoming machine. The
Whump! Whump! Whump! Of the whipping blades beat louder and louder.
The pilot circled over the bow and peered down, his eyes held
Graves with contempt. Graves jabbed back with the muzzle. The pilot
nodded. The helicopter lurched forward over the deck. The downwash
whipped Grave’s hair and filled his windbreaker as he slanted his
body against the force of the blast. The helicopter hovered not
fifty-feet away. Madden called Graves off, but his voice was lost
in the rush of wind. No muzzles flash came from the helicopter, no
bang; no nothing. Graves eased back on his weapon. A thousand
lashes swept over the bow as the helicopter touched down, bounced
then settled on its haunches. The pilot cut the power, the rotors
slowed, the blades slowly, drooped and stopped.