Decker's Dilemma (23 page)

“What's if he's doing more harm than good?” Hack pleaded with Decker.

“I doubt if that's possible. Chief was probably gone by the time his head hit the pavement. That jeepney had to be doing fifty or sixty miles an hour. Chief didn't have a chance.”

A crowd of people gathered around Chief Fray's body, the sounds of police and ambulance sirens blared in the background. An ambulance arrived at the scene, followed closely by a green Range Rover.

“It's time to go,” Decker said.

“Let's stay and watch the crowd. Maybe we can learn something.”

“I just saw Captain Navarro arrive. He's parked on Magsaysay. I can't see him but I know that's his vehicle.”

“You've convinced me,” said Hack. “Let's get out of here.”

Decker paid the trike driver another forty pesos. “Let's go find Mo. We need to talk. Something tells me this may be just the beginning of our investigation.”

CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

1910, Thursday, February 27

“Jesus,
what the hell happened
,” Mo said, as Decker and Hack sat at the table.
“You look awful.”

“Chief's dead,” Decker announced.

Mo sat back in disbelief. “Chief Fray? What are you talking about?”

Decker spent the next five minutes telling Mo an abbreviated version of events.

“Tell you what. I'm buying,” said Mo, glancing around the bar for an available waitress. “So what were you doing at Agana's this time?”

Decker frowned. “We watched the place for several minutes from a Jollibee.”

“And I wanted to leave,” interjected Hack. “I should've been more persuasive.”

Decker ignored the comment. “We're lucky we stayed. We wouldn't have seen Chief otherwise.”

“How long was he in Agana's?” Mo asked.

“Not long, just a few minutes,” said Decker. “He ran into the same guys we did the other day.”

“Did Fray see you two?”

Decker shook his head. “No, he had no idea we were watching him.”

The three sailors sat quietly at their table lost in their own thoughts. When their second round arrived, Hack broke the silence. “I feel bad for the kid. His wife, too. They probably know by now if they were home.”

“And we have to tell someone what we've found,” Decker added.

“Who?” asked Hack.

“Commander Doerr would be the logical choice. It's Thursday now. Tomorrow will be a zoo on the ship with Chief's death. But Suppo will probably be at work Saturday. I'll talk to him then after things quiet down.”

“How do you know he'll be at work on Saturday?” asked Mo.

Decker glanced at Hack. “Because his wife told me. I called her before I left the ship yesterday.”

Mo shook his head. “I knew you couldn't leave that alone.”

“I
did
leave it alone. She invited me out to her house last Saturday. I told her I'd think about it, but I never showed up. She said that he works most Saturdays.”

“You're going to give in eventually if you keep calling her,” Hack said. “But that's your problem. I think we ought to wait until Monday and see what people are saying about it.”

“We can't sit on this,” Decker countered.

“Why not? If we start talking, then people will know what we've been up to.”

Decker sat back in his chair. “It's time to bring in the pros. Chief's no longer involved, but Agana's still operating the business.”

“Not our concern anymore,” Mo said.

“Of course it is,” Decker said, staring at Hack. “And then there's Pinto.”

“Pinto?” Mo asked. “What's up with him?”

“Nothing,” said Hack. “Decker thought one of Agana's men mentioned Pinto the other day. But the guy was speaking Tagalog and I had no idea what he was saying.” He turned to Decker. “It was our concern when our lives were at risk. Or I should say when your life was at risk. Let the navy figure out what's going on with the missing parts.”

“That's why I think we should tell someone,” said Decker. “Kippen's dead. Our number one suspect is dead and something is bothering me. I can't put my finger on it, but it's nagging me.” He saw a familiar face walk into the bar from the back entrance. “Wait, we've got company.”

Out of breath, Vega hurried over to the table. “I thought I might find you guys here. I saw you when I got to the scene, but then you disappeared.”

“We didn't want to have another chat with your boss,” said Hack.

“Smart thinking,” Vega said. “I don't think he saw you guys, but, in case he did, you'd better get out of here.”

“Let's go to Lee's apartment,” Decker said. “You think she'll mind?”

“Yes,” Hack said. “But she doesn't stay mad for very long. You coming along, Mo?”

“Might as well,” Mo sighed.

“Take the back way,” Vega advised.

The three sailors exited Cal Jam out the back door and made their way to the trike stand on Gordon out of sight from the police who were still working the scene of the accident.

Rusty waved to the sailors as they rounded the corner. “What is going on,
pare
? Lots of excitement.”

“It's a long story,” Decker said. “I'll fill you in on the way.”

“Okay,” Rusty said, worried. “Where to?”

“Lee's apartment,” Hack said, climbing in the sidecar. “It's 501 Jones Street.”

Rusty kick started his bike and nodded towards the jeepney accident. “Must've been a bad accident. Too many cops around for my liking.”

“That's part of the long story,” Decker said, sitting sideways on the bike's seat behind Rusty. He turned to Mo. “I'll ride with Hack. I don't think the bike can take your weight.”

“Great,” Mo mumbled as he waved to another driver. He started to enter the trike but a hand grabbed his shoulder. Mo turned to see a retired sailor, probably in his 60s, standing to his side.

“Mind if I share a ride?” the old man asked.

“I guess not,” said Mo, clearly irritated at the inconvenience.

Decker laughed at Mo and sped away with Hack in Rusty's trike. Ten minutes later Mo trudged up Lee's stairs and entered her apartment.

“What the hell took you so long?” Decker asked.

“Some old retired sailor wanted to ride along. I couldn't say no.”

“That's sweet,” Lee said. “Looks like you're the only one who didn't get mixed up in all this.”

“I was smart enough
not
to go along,” Mo said, laughing at the sight before him. Decker was lying sprawled on the couch, Hack slouched in a recliner. Angie was cleaning in the kitchen, preparing what smelled like pancit and rice.

Mo sat on the floor and turned to Lee. “Did they tell you what happened?”

“They did,” Lee said. “They shouldn't have gone there.”

“That was Vega's advice,” Decker said.

“You should listen to her next time,” Lee said. “You guys are going to end up like Chief Fray if you keep snooping around like this.”

“I hope I don't end up like that,” Mo said.

Lee smiled at Mo. “You're smarter than that, Maurice.”

Decker and Hack snickered at hearing Mo's real name. Lee silenced them with a glare.

“No, I mean like that old man that rode in the trike with me. He probably retired here thinking his money would go farther than in the States. Now he's a drunk living paycheck to paycheck. Nothing to show for his twenty years except an old ballcap from the
Zellars
and twenty-three tattoos.”

“You counted the tattoos?” Hack asked.

“No, just a guess. He had a lot of them.”

“I don't see you living like that.” Decker thought for a second. “The hat maybe. And definitely a drunk. But not that many tattoos. Maybe ten or twelve, but not twenty-three.”

“Gee, thank you for the confidence.”

“Don't listen to him,” Lee said. “A guy like that has problems. You see a lot of them around here. Most retired guys don't live like that.”

“I know you're right, but it still makes me—”

“Wait.” Decker interruped, sitting up quickly. “What did you say he was wearing?”

“I didn't.”

“Yes you did.”

Mo shrugged. “I don't know. He had on an old shirt and jeans. I didn't really look at him too closely. You saw him, too.”

“I wasn't paying attention,” Decker admitted. “You said he was wearing a hat. What ship was it?”

“
Zellars
. USS
Zellars
. I noticed it because I had a friend with that name in middle school. Tommy Zellars. Skinny little obnoxious kid. Why?”

Decker looked at Hack. “Does the name Zellars ring a bell?”

“No, should it? I don't know many ships' names.”

“It's not a ship I've heard of either. But I know it from somewhere.”

“If we see the old man again, we'll ask him about it.”

Decker paced the room. “I don't care about him. It's the name on his hat that interests me.” He walked over to the recliner and tapped Hack's foot. “Where's the copy of the note you got from Chief's safe? The one with the names on it?”

“On the ship. Why?”

“Let's go,” Decker said.

“Now? We just got here.”

“Yes, now. Come on Mo. You come along, too.”

“Do I have to?” Mo protested. “It smells like food's about ready.”

“Yes, we're going to need more brain power.”

Mo slapped his hands on his knees and stood. “Great. I knew you'd drag me into this sooner or later.”

CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

1950, Thursday, February 27

“Someone's been in my locker,” Hack said. “I'm sure of it. Things have been rearranged.”

“How can someone get in there?” Decker asked, skeptically. “It has a lock on it. A combination lock.”

“I can't tell you how it happened. All I know is that someone was in here.”

“Did you give anyone your combination?” Mo asked.

“No, the only one who knows the combination is Lee. She was with me when I bought it. I set it with her, but she couldn't have come on board and gotten in here.”

“Highly unlikely,” Decker said. “Which means you're probably mistaken. I suspect you came in drunk one night and messed things up. Happens all the time.”

“I haven't been drunk,” Hack said. “But I was in my rack late last night and I didn't turn my light on.”

“Are the copies still there?”

“No.”

“What do you mean, no?”

“I mean they aren't in here. I've never put them in my rack.”

Decker looked at Hack, confused. “I thought you said that's where you keep them?”

“Not
in
my rack. Next to it. I just needed to get some money.” Hack closed his locker and locked it. “See, the copies are back here.” He reached behind his bed and peeled back a small piece of insulation. “I noticed that there's a secret hiding place in the bulkhead if I pull back this insulation. I put the papers in here.”

“Smart thinking,” said Decker. “Let's have a look.”

Hack spread the papers on his mattress. “Here it is,” said Decker. “The list of names. Allen Sumner on top. There's Zellars.”

“The ship name on the hat the old man was wearing,” Mo said.

“Exactly,” said Decker. “We were thinking they were people's names. They probably
were
people's names, but I bet they're all ship names and there's only way to find out. Let's go see the Joker.”

“Who?” Mo asked.

“The Joker,” Hack said. “At the library. Wears make-up that makes her look like the Joker from Batman.”

“Do you guys have nicknames for everybody?” Mo laughed.

“Almost everybody,” Decker said, leading the three sailors toward the exit. He stopped them near the doorway. “No one's in here. Let's have a look around.”

“A look around where?” asked Hack.

“At Pinto's rack,” whispered Decker. He turned to Mo. “You can pick a lock, right? You opened my rack when I lost my key a couple months ago.”

“I don't like the sound of this,” Mo said. “If we get caught, it'll be Captain's Mast.”

Decker thought for a moment. “Hack, you be lookout. Stay here at the entrance and yell if anyone comes in.”

“What am I going to yell?”

“Reveille,” said Decker.

“Reveille?”

“Just say anything,” Decker said. “And try to stall them.”

“I'll try,” Hack said as Decker and Mo walked to Pinto's rack on the port side of the berthing.

Decker watched nervously as Mo took a small tool from his key chain and inserted into the lock. “It's a cheapy,” Mo said. “I've about got it.” A few seconds later, the pin tumblers opened. “Voilà,” he announced.

“You're a genius,” Decker said. “Now let's have a look.” He opened the rack and did a quick scan of the contents. “He's too neat. Everything's folded and stowed like he's in boot camp. Here, hold it open.”

Mo held the lid to the rack open as Decker quickly rifled through Pinto's belongings. A sweep of his hand under folded uniforms uncovered several magazines. “Check this out. It could be a clue.”

“It's a
Penthouse
,” Mo said.

“He's got a stash of them.” Decker flipped through the pages to the centerfold, holding it open for Mo to see. “Now those are impressive.”

“Good genes,” Mo said.

“And a little surgical help,” Decker said, returning the magazine to its hiding place. He felt around in another compartment. “Aha, what do we have here?”

“It's a bunch of letters,” Mo said. “So what?”

“Look who they're from,” Decker whispered.

“Oh,” Mo mumbled.

Decker pointed to the postmark dates. “Looks like Lee's been writing Pinto when we've been out to sea. Most of them are old.” Decker held up a blue envelope. “But check this out,” he said, opening the contents. “She sent him a birthday card last month.” Decker began to read the card when he heard the alarm.

“Hey you guys coming?” Hack yelled from across the berthing. “It's reveille time.”

Decker threw the letters and birthday card in the rack as Mo closed the lid and secured the lock. They rounded the corner and saw Hack standing by himself at the door.

“I thought someone came in?” asked Decker.

“Someone did,” Hack whispered, pointing to the other side of the berthing. “I don't know his name, but he went to the starboard side.”

“You scared the hell out of us,” said Decker. “But mission accomplished.”

“Did you find anything?” asked Hack.

Decker glanced at Mo. “No, nothing of interest to our task at hand. Some well-hidden magazines that I'd like to borrow from him, but that's all. Let's get out of here.”

Ten minutes later, Decker, Hack, and Mo sat at a table in the corner of the library. The Joker eyed them skeptically at first, but resigned herself to the idea that the sailors were, in fact, in the library to do research. Several volumes of Jane's military books were spread out on the table before them.

“Here it is,” Decker said. “The
USS
Zellars
. The ship was an
Allen B. Sumner
class destroyer. In service from 1944 to 1969. Here are the other names that were on Chief's note. The
USS
James Owens,
USS
John Thomason,
USS
Wallace Lind,
USS
Brush,
USS
Stormes
, and USS
Hank
. All built during WWII. And, get this, the
Zellars
was sold to Iran in 1973. It's now the
Babr
. The
Stormes
was also sold to Iran. It's now the
Palang
.

“Are you guys thinking what I'm thinking?” asked Mo.

“That we may have found the missing link to Chief's black market scheme?”

Mo shook his head. “No, it's time for dinner. We left Lee's before the food was ready.”

“Is that all you can think about?” Decker said.

“A man has to eat.”

“You have a point,” Decker agreed. “Come on, Hack. Let's find a Xerox machine and get out of here.”

Decker and Hack made copies of the pages that listed information on the ships written in Chief Fray's note. Thirteen ships in all, including a page on the lead destroyer of the class, the USS
Allen B. Sumner
.

They hiked the two blocks to the Spanish Gate cafeteria and found a booth in the back corner away from other people. Hack didn't order anything to eat. Decker ordered a coke. Mo ordered The Battlewagon. A half-pound hamburger. And fries. And a coke. They spread the documents in front of them.

“Okay, here's what we've got,” Decker said. “The navy commissioned 58
Allen B. Sumner
-class destroyers during World War II. Most of the ships were decommissioned in the late 1960s and early 70s. Several were sold to other countries.”

“I had no idea we sold our ships,” Hack said.

“Happens all the time,” Mo said. “I once read that we even built ships specifically for another country. The
Kidd
-class destroyers were built for Iran. The revolution happened before they could take delivery of them.”

“It does happen frequently,” Decker said, reading from the documents. “Several of the
Sumner
class ships were sold to foreign countries. Four went to Argentina, two to Venezuela, one to Turkey, two to Korea, four to Brazil, two to Chile, two to Columbia, one to Greece, eleven to Taiwan, and the
Zellars
and
Stormes
to Iran.”

“What's this mean?” asked Hack.

“This has to be the end game of the black market,” Decker said. “It makes sense. The navy sells the ships to a foreign country. Someone, probably Agana, steals parts from the navy and sells them to the countries. And he had help from someone like Chief Fray.”

“Or Pinto,” Hack added. “You thought Agana's men mentioned his name.”

“Or Pinto,” Decker agreed. “They both have, or, in the case of Chief, had access to order parts. But we saw Chief at Agana's, and we know that he was topside the night Kippen went overboard.”

“Where was Pinto that night?” Hack asked.

“I have no idea,” said Decker. “He was doing his exercises the last I saw of him. I fell asleep and when the man overboard alarm sounded, he wasn't in his rack.”

“He could've been topside,” Hack argued. “We can't rule him out as a suspect. There's no other reason why Ponytail and Baldy would know his name.”

“Don't forget, Chief Fray was also researching these ship names,” Decker said, pointing to the list. “We have no proof that Pinto was doing the same.”

“Why would Chief do the research?” Mo asked. “If he's involved, then why worry about it?”

“Maybe he initially had no idea where the parts were going,” Decker said. “I assume, and, mind you, I'm no expert in the black market, he probably got involved without knowing the details. Just an easy way to make a few bucks selling navy material, stuff that didn't seem valuable to him. Then he got curious.”

“Maybe he was having second thoughts about it,” Hack added.

“Perhaps,” Decker agreed. “Maybe he found out where the parts are going and decided that he no longer wanted to be a part of it. Especially if the parts are going to Iran, which I suspect is where most of the stolen material ends up. That's why I want to tell someone.”

“Why don't you follow Pinto like you did Chief?” asked Mo. “Or did you ever think about the possibility that there's more than one person involved?”

“A conspiracy?” Hack said.

Decker leaned back in his chair. “Whatever it is, I think we're in over our heads.”

“No kidding,” Mo said. “I knew that from day one.”

“I have to agree with you,” Decker added. “Two people are dead and I came close to being shot. It's getting hot around here, and I'm not talking about the weather.”

Hack suddenly held up his hand. “Hang on, guys. Check this out,” he said, pointing to a ship in the book.

“The USS
Mansfield
,” Mo said. “DD-718. So?

Hack grinned at Decker. “See, I was right. Chief didn't write Lee's name in his list. It was a ship's name. An
Allen B. Sumner
class destroyer.”

“Ah, but it doesn't explain the cash you found in her drawer,” Decker said. “How do you explain that?”

“What cash?' asked Mo.

Decker pointed to Hack. “Our friend here found cash in Lee's dresser. A few hundred dollars. It seems odd to me. And we know someone's involved at the Supply Depot.”

Mo and Decker stared at Hack. “Hey, she said it was for rent and to pay bills. And she doesn't stay in touch with Pinto.”

Decker glanced at Mo. “But who pays bills in cash?”

“I do,” Mo grunted. “I don't write many checks for things. It's hard for some Filipinos to cash them so they'd rather have cash. U.S. dollars. Hell, I have cash stashed at my place most of the time, but I'd better not catch you guys snooping around in my dresser.”

Decker put a hand on Mo's shoulder. “That's one thing you don't have to worry about, my friend. After all, as our official locksmith, we'd need you to break in.