Wood's Reef (30 page)

“What’s all this?” Mel asked, emerging from the cabin, Sue behind her. Wood and Mac both went to her, but she waved them off. “I’m fine. Just a bit of a headache.” Sue confirmed her diagnosis adding a probable concussion.

“Look, we’ve got to do something about this. If that son of a bitch gets elected you won’t even recognize this country in four years. Don’t fight me on this,” Wood started.

“Fight you? Dad, for once we’re on the same side. Let’s get out of here.”

“You guys do what you need to. I’ll keep your secret,” the Navy man said. “Let’s get him up on deck and I’ll frog march him to Gordon. He’s got a hard-on for him.” 

Mac and the crewman lifted Gillum onto the dock and called up to Gordon. 

“Here. He’s your problem now! We’re out of this,” Mac shouted.

He quickly released the lines, yelled to Trufante to power up and pushed off the dock before anyone could question him.

The cockpit was crowded as Mac’s boat pulled out. Trufante still had the helm. Sue was forcing Wood down to the cabin, and Mel was typing furiously on her cell phone. Mac secured the tarp over the bomb and signaled Trufante to go. The diesels churned the water brown as the boat kicked up on plane and headed back toward Mac’s.

Mac went over to Mel. “Glad you’re ok.”

She nodded in acknowledgment. “I got an email out to my boss about Gillum and the Vice President. I asked him to get the press involved. We need to get to Homestead and finish this.”

“What do you have in mind?”

“I’m working on it. Can you go down and see what’s up with Dad?” She dismissed him and went back to her phone. 

Mac went down to Wood. He wondered how this was going to play out and what to do with the bomb lashed to the deck. The Navy had let them go in the confusion at the dock, no one realizing the live nuke was lashed to the deck. Sue had Wood under control now, changing his dressing, so he went back to the wheel and stood by Trufante.

“Girl likes you,” Trufante said.

“Hell she does. She’s more interested in her phone and her damn crusades.”

“Nah, I’ve seen her looking at you. Girl likes you.”

“Sure likes to be in charge is what she likes.” Mac knew his part in this was pretty much over. It would take Mel’s legal brain and action to sort it all out. The question was, where did that leave him?

Chapter 56

Behzad was feeling good. A couple of shots and some school teachers from Naples out for a good time was all he needed to forget his troubles. The club was filling up as the night wore on. He sat at the bar, the pile of cash laying on the blemished copper top decreasing as his popularity increased. He was the life of the party, and living large. 

Suddenly the door opened and a tall man walked in. Behzad’s gay-dar went on red alert, ignoring the party going on around him. The man sat down across the bar. Behzad quickly got the bartender’s attention, which was easy to do with the tips he’d been throwing around. The man accepted the drink he sent over, and motioned Behzad over to join him. 

Thirty minutes later, they were on the way out the door together. Behzad was floating. This was just what he needed to wash the past few days from his soul. As they went toward the stranger’s car, he stopped in his tracks, staring out at the road. He saw a Navy truck at the stoplight, bomb tied down on the trailer behind it. His euphoria faded as he realized his predicament. He’d burnt too many bridges in Key West to return there, now he had no place left to got but to follow the bomb and finish the plan. The stranger might provide a few hours of relief, but he knew it was fleeting. So he said a quick goodbye and ran for the truck. The back tires screeched as he pulled out of the parking lot, heading north on US1 toward his destiny.

***

Mel was still engrossed in her phone as they pulled up to Mac’s dock. She looked up and took a breath while Mac and Trufante tied up the boat. The mood on the boat was subdued, the adrenaline having run its course. All except Wood, who came barging out of the cabin, Sue standing raising her hands in frustration behind him.

“Let’s go. Mac, get the truck. Mel, get off that damn phone. We gotta go.”

“What are you talking about? We’re done. I’ve relayed all the information to my boss. He’s going to get the press to tell the story.”

“Girl, the election is in two days. The press is in that bastard’s back pocket. He was crooked as a bent axle when I knew him fifty years ago, and I don’t expect he’s changed. I let this happen then. I need to fix it now.”

Mel looked at Sue for help, but she gave her the
nothing I can do about him look
. So she tried to reason with him. “You’re in no shape to be doing anything besides taking a ride to the hospital.”

“I need to see this through. If it’s the last thing I do, so be it.”

Knowing resistance was futile, she helped him onto the dock. “All right. What do you have in mind?”

“Me, you, and Mac are going to Homestead. That’s where the son of a bitch is going to show that bomb off like he’s some kind of war hero.”

“I don’t trust that guy Gordon either. He’s got his own agenda. With Gillum arrested, I can’t figure what he’s up to.” Mac said.

Trufante gave him a questioning look.

“You and the girlfriend stay back here and watch this other one.” He looked at the camo covering the lump on the deck, making it clear what he was talking about.

Trufante’s smile lit up and a long arm extended toward Sue. “Roger that, boss.”

Mac threw the pack over his shoulder and went for his truck. Mel and Wood walked behind him, determination in their strides. 

***

Trufante looked toward the road as Mac pulled out of the driveway, the three crowded in the front seat. He pulled two chairs up to the dock, his smile lighting up the walk as Sue came toward him with two beers in each hand, drops of water dripping from the ice-cold bottles. She sat down, opened a beer, handed it to him, and set the others on the ground. Trufante was grinning larger than any Corona commercial as he clicked bottles with her and took a long draw on the beer. 

***

Gillum’s cell phone went to voicemail again. Ward had been speed dialing his number for two hours now, and he was starting to get nervous. The rally was hours away, and he’d had no contact from Gillum. This was going to be the grand finale of his campaign. There was no room for a mistake. Not now.

He’d made an unexpected stop at the Home Depot in Kendal, making it look like a spur-of-the moment decision to show him as an average Joe. His Secret Service detail had been close to stopping him, but he’d overruled them. They’d watched over their charge as he’d waltzed into the store, shook a few hands and perused the tool aisle. 

The tools now lay in front of him. A screw gun, bits, screwdrivers, and wire cutters. He emptied the papers from his briefcase and lay the tools out carefully on a towel liberated from his quarters at the Homestead Air Force Base. Then he closed the briefcase, buckled the latches and sat down with a fresh tumbler of Scotch. He closed his eyes and visualized the future President of the United States disarming a nuclear bomb. He saw the response of the crowd in his mind, the hawks cheering his ease with handling a weapon of that magnitude. The doves awed by their candidate’s ability to actually disarm a nuclear warhead. He drained his glass and tried Gillum again. After all these years, he still didn’t trust him. The only thing that could derail his finale was the ineptness of a career Navy Captain. How ironic. He resolved to end the man’s career if this didn’t go off as planned.

Chapter 57

Behzad’s resolve started to fade as he approached Islamorada. He’d made it all of an hour before Paradise stopped seeming like such a good idea. The lights from the tiki bar drew him in like a mosquito to a bug zapper, and he pulled the truck off to the side of the road and hightailed it to the bar, hoping to make last call. Luck or Allah were on his side, as the lights were still dim, the music loud, and the crowd rocking. He sauntered up to the bar and threw a wad of cash on the tile top. The bartender was right over, happy to serve. Big tips came late at night. A round for the bar was quickly poured out, and the pile of cash lightened. Behzad had two drinks and a half dozen shots lined up in front of him. Last call was imminent. He downed two of the shots quickly, the harsh tequila burning his throat. Two more and he was back on the train to Paradise. 

Then the lights blinked, signaling last call. The bartender came by and he ordered another round for the bar. Revelers came up and thanked him on their way out of the bar, the lights on high now, the music off. The mood ruined, but his resolve heightened, he downed the remaining shots and headed back to the truck. It was three in the morning and he was in no condition to drive. He spotted a Waffle House across the street and walked over, swaying as he went. 

***

“Careful with these fools,” Wood said as Mac cruised through Islamorada. This was a dangerous time of night in the Keys. It was just after last call and a surge of drunks would all be hitting the road at the same time. And with US1 only a lane in each direction, it was easy picking for the Highway Patrol. 

“We’ve got some time. Maybe we ought to get some food and let the drunks find their way.” Mac pulled into a Waffle House lot. 

Mel had been quiet on the way up, focusing on whatever she was doing on her phone. “Good deal. The rally is at 10am. We can get something to eat, then drive up to Florida City and get a room.”

They walked into the Waffle House. The only empty table was by the bathrooms. They reluctantly sat at the greasy table. Mac looked around. The place was full of partiers, loud and obnoxious. They sat for several long minutes without service, several unruly patrons bumping into their table on the way to the restroom.

“Let’s go. This place is bullshit.” Wood turned and headed toward the door. He pulled the handle and winced in pain. Mel quickly stepped up to help him when a Middle Eastern-looking guy crashed into them. 

“‘Scuse me,” The man slurred.. 

They walked right by him. Just another drunk looking for some late-night food. 

 “You care to give us a clue what’s going on with that phone of yours?” Wood asked. Mac pulled back into the northbound lane. He accelerated and reached the speed limit, carefully dodging traffic as the road split going through Key Largo. 

“Just taking down a presidential candidate. If it wasn’t so scary, this would almost be fun.” She replied.

“That’s my girl. Cut that bastard at the knees and let the rats feed on him.”

“Nice. How about we just put him out to pasture?” Mel responded. 

“Whatever, so long as we stop him.” Mac injected, worried more about the second bomb presently on the deck of his boat.

“I’d like to see it put right as well, but is it worth your whole life? Looks like a little living wouldn’t hurt you.” Wood started. “You spend all this time jousting at windmills. You're a smart, good looking girl. Look around, there’s more out there than courtrooms and offices.”

“And you like what is going on here?”

“Hey,” Mac stopped them. “Let’s focus on what we have in front of us. Leave the life issues for later.”

He regretted saying it as soon as the words were out of his mouth. It looked like she was pouting. 

She looked down at the blank screen on her phone, deep in thought. A few days ago, she would have lit into him — torn off his head — but now things seemed to have changed. “Maybe your right.”

They travelled in silence as the traffic lightened. They were feeling the warmth of each other, side by side in the truck, isolated from the rest of the world. They knew they were tied to each other now and this made them family.

Mac looked over and noticed her staring out the window, Wood asleep with his head on her shoulder. “Maybe when this is over you might want to spend some time down here. I saw your face on that boat. You like it, whether you want to admit it or not.”

“Are you asking me out, Mac Travis? With my grumpy old man sitting right here? That’s balls.”