Wood's Reef (9 page)

He was due to make a payment in two days. The Mexicans would be unforgiving when he didn’t. He skirted the edge of the supplier’s patience in good times. He came up with their money, but never the whole amount when promised. It was no secret he used too much product, but he moved a lot, so they tolerated him. He had no cash, but the Mexicans fronted him the drugs on credit. The volume and higher price they garnered made the risk worthwhile. Particularly because they took lives when the payment wasn’t right. Which was what worried him now. Risk management in the drug world was a little different than it was on Wall Street.

The adrenaline from the car jacking and robbery was waning; in contrast, his paranoia, elevated by the coke, was peaking. Every sound reminded him that he was alone and defenseless. A splash caused him to jump. There was no telling what inhabited these dark, brackish waters. He wasn’t sure if the bulge in the water was an alligator or a figment of his imagination. His solution was to reach into his pants to pull out the baggie. He dipped his nail twice and leaned back, waiting for the powder to perform its magic.

Slightly restored, he got to his feet and decided the only way out was north. Ibrahim seemed his only hope. Knowledge of the bomb had to be worth something to him. He thought about the money he needed to pay back for the drugs - surely a pittance for a high level terrorist. The question was how to get him to help. He moved slowly down the shoulder of the road, weaving slightly, thinking martyrdom was going to come a little early.

***

Jerry Doans, head on a swivel, cruised north on US1. He cleared Key Largo, ever vigilant for State Troopers. He imagined the scene in the courtroom as the charges were read: poaching, reckless endangerment and maybe manslaughter if the old man died. It was late, going on 4am, but it was still hot out. He turned the AC to high and opened the windows, hoping the cold air mixing with the humid night would keep him awake. He had to shut the windows, as the combination of refrigeration and humidity quickly created its own weather system, fogging up the entire car. He would feel a lot better when he crossed the Dade County line, he knew. With any luck, the Monroe County sheriff hadn’t identified him yet, and he could blend into Miami or cross over to Ft Myers and lay low for a while. His Keys career was likely over for now, so he was already thinking about his next move.

The fog was clearing in the cab when he thought he saw a lone figure with his thumb out by the side of the road. He thought about speeding up to pass, but the road was narrow here. Water butted up to both sides of the highway as it ran like a land bridge. If he didn’t stop he might hit the man. He didn’t want to add vehicular homicide to the list of charges. Why not? he thought. He slowed down and stopped on the shoulder, waiting for the figure to move toward the truck. 

The stranger leaned into the vehicle from the passenger side. “Need a ride or something?” Doans asked.

“Please, I got carjacked by some freakin’ Haitians. I'm stuck out here,” the man answered.

“No problem. Hop in, I'm heading to Miami,” Doans said, hoping the good samaritan act would change his karma.

“Miami's good. I was heading to the airport to pick up a friend.” 

“I’m good with that,” he said. “I can drop you there.”

They drove in silence. Jerry started to nod off. The car started to swerve, the buzz of the tires hitting the centerline bumpers startled him awake.

“I could give you a little bump, if you want.”

“Really? That would be cool.” Doans felt that karma swing. Pretty impressive that he’d managed to hook up with someone who had that sort of thing available. And was willing to share.

“Names Behzad,” he started to get chatty as he got more wired. “What kind of business are you in? You a fisherman or something, with all those coolers in the back?”

“Kind of a part-time thing. I do a lot of real estate work. Financing, repos, flips, that kind of thing. Always looking for something new. Thinking about heading over to Naples or Ft Myers and try my luck there. It’s about run out down here.”

Their friendship solidified with another dip in the bag. “Yeah, I think I’m in the same boat. My Key West days look numbered. Those Haitians took my stash and I can’t go back without a fistfull of dollars for the supplier.” Behzad loved the old movie clichés. 

“Maybe we can help each other out,” Doans probed.

Chapter 16

Mac sat in the waiting room, slumped in a chair, eyes closed, when Mel came storming in. She took one look at him and thumped him in the chest with both hands.

“Where's my dad?”

“Good to see you too. He’s in intensive care. They say he’s still critical but stable right now.”

A nurse turned the corner then, and glanced at Mel. “Can I help you with something, ma'am?”

“My dad, Bill Woodson. He just had surgery. Is there a doctor or someone I can talk to?”

“Give me a minute and I’ll see what I can do. Are you two alright?” She looked at Mac for an answer.

“Yeah, thanks, we’re good.” He wasn’t really sure if that was the case. Their relationship was uneasy on a good day. They’d known each other for years. Eight years older, he’d first been a big brother and later a crush. Mel had been incensed when he married when she was 16. Her feelings weren’t on his radar. An unhappy teenager, stuck without a mom in a place she didn’t want to be, she used Mac’s marriage as another excuse to turn against anything to do with the Keys. He’d noticed her as something different after his divorce, but the years of bitterness had taken their toll. The rage had subsided slightly, and Mel set her sleek frame into a chair. “Start talking, Mac. I want it all.”

Mac recounted the events of the last two days. He started with the discovery of the bomb, then encounter with the Navy Captain and the crash. He watched her face as he spoke, hoping for some indication of sympathy, but got a stone cold stare instead. He saw the imminent explosion coming before she opened her mouth. 

“Did you have to get him involved? Couldn’t you handle it yourself? He’s seventy if you haven’t forgotten.”

“He was in the service when the Cuban Missile Crisis was going on. The piece we picked up sure looked like it was from that era. How was I supposed to know some idiot would be following us?”

“That's the trouble with you, Mac. You don’t think things through, or realize how your actions affect other people.”

“Enough of the holier-than-thou crap, Mel. You’re a lawyer. You comment on stuff after it’s happened. You live your life in hindsight.”

“Oh, big talk from the only guy who didn’t get hurt.” She pushed him again. 

Mac told her about the skirmish outside the bar. Her eyes narrowed, not with the comfort that he hoped, but rather with scrutiny. 

“You know they have police for that, don’t you? Trufante is sitting next to the guy that almost killed my dad and he calls you?”

“Yeah, I already got the speech from Jules.”

“She’s probably the best thing that’s happened to this rock since I left.”

“Your patience for all things Keys related is duly noted. How was your flight?” he asked, hoping to diffuse her. 

The nurse came around the corner then, saving him. “The surgeon will meet you outside his room. I don’t know if you’ll be allowed to see him yet, but the doctor will fill you in.”

“Thanks,” Mel said as she took off down the corridor.

“Can we just bury the hatchet for your dad’s sake? You know he means a lot to me.” He took off after her.

“You can come, but there’s nothing you can do or say to undo this.”

***

They arrived at the door to Wood’s room, and Mel looked through the observation glass at her prone father. The surgeon approached as she turned away, a loan tear in her eye. “Hello, I’m Melanie, Wood’s daughter,” she said.

The surgeon glanced at Mac and, not receiving an introduction, went on. “He’s doing alright. We’ve got him stable, but only time is going to tell how he pulls through this.”

“What's wrong?” Mel asked. “I just got here. No one has told me what the deal is.”

“Lacerated liver. He took a chunk of fiberglass deep in his side. It’s going to be touch and go for a few days. Then it’s up him to let it heel. In someone his age, especially with a little wear and tear, the liver doesn’t always recover well.”

“Is there anything I can do?” she asked emphasizing the ‘I.’ 

“Like I said, we need some time to see how he’s going to pull through.”

“Thanks Dr. Hanson,” she said, catching his name tag as she gave him a long look.

The doctor walked away, and she walked back over to the observation window. Wood was on his back, a breathing tube in his mouth, wires and tubes connected to various instruments. He looked peaceful, but the IV drip was a clear signal it was drug induced. “Dammit, Mac, what am I supposed to do now? I can’t just sit here and watch him.”

“No, that’s not what he would want,” Mac answered. “Look. You might not like this, but I’m right in the middle of this. Let Jules find the guy that ran the boat up on him. We went and saw this Navy captain yesterday. Wood didn’t trust him with the disposition of the bomb, and the guy gave me the creeps, too. He’s playing a bigger game. You want to hang with me, maybe we can figure out what’s so dammed important about this bomb.” He glanced at Wood, “He said something about Joe Ward, the VP, being involved. I don’t care much about that angle as just making sure the damn thing doesn’t go off. 

“What’s Ward got to do with this?”

He repeated as much as he remembered of Wood’s rant.”

‘That could be as big as the actual bomb exploding. Do you have any idea what would happen to the election if this got out? There are already accusations of him covering up things. He’s been able to get past all the scandals so far, but this is big. You have the key to deciding an election and the future of the country here.”

Mac nodded, eyes down. He’d readily admit he had no political interests. “How ‘bout we just diffuse the thing, then figure out what to do about Joe Ward.”

“Oh, the locals will love watching the two of us run around together.”

“How ‘bout we declare a truce and get some breakfast?” Mac asked as he walked toward the exit.

Mel took another look in the window and followed him.

Chapter 17

The Navy Zodiac bounced with the building chop, heading north through Florida Bay. Four bright orange life jackets bobbed with each wave, and the knuckles of Jim Gillum’s right had were turning white as he grabbed the rub rail. He fought the nausea as he tried to read the chart in his left hand.

“Where to, sir?” the man at the wheel asked.

“Give me a minute, sailor. It’s been years since I’ve been here.”

“Sure thing, sir,” he replied as he backed off the throttle.

Gillum studied the map. They’d been running in a basic search course — circles expanding from a central point he thought was the location of Wood’s island. Each circle grew larger and more distorted as the breadth of the search increased, the boat constantly swerving as it was forced to avoid countless submerged obstacles. He hoped the bomb was on the island. It was the only lead he had. 

***

It was close to twenty years ago that they had reached their settlement. Gillum still got nervous thinking about it. Skeletons hung in his closet like clothes on a sales rack. Wood had gotten his license and started his business in the late 1960’s as an engineer and contractor. He stayed in the Keys and quickly built a reputation for performing on jobs. He successfully built many of the Navy projects in the 1970’s and 1980’s. Gillum had oversight of many of these jobs, although the men had minimal contact. 

The Navy, always on a tight schedule, had been pressuring Gillum to get a fill section of Dredgers Key Road leading to the Sigsbee Key housing annex repaired. Gillum had been the second in command then, with eyes to the future. He was an administrator, not a sailor, garnering the contempt of many. Too lazy to search for competitive bids, he had contacted Wood for the work. Although their relationship was contemptuous, Gillum knew the man was competent. He put aside his feelings and awarded him the job.