There was too much going on, and my control was once again nearing the ephemeral kind of leadership I had in the A Shau Valley so long ago. The boat, or specialized watercraft that resembled a yacht, was ready to be guided down the waterway. Rosley Ryan was on the way to add credibility and brilliantly expressive nonsense for cover. My wife was unaccountably and relentlessly forcing herself onto the scene, or at least nearby; the money was supposedly on the way to making everything work, and the DEA was cluelessly standing down when that agency had to know the CIA was up to something in their own backyard.
The motors were thrumming, and it was a visceral, deep, sweet feeling that came over me. I wanted to take control of the throttles and drive the boat, but I’d already assigned Kingsley to that task. I stood near him as the Cowboy let go of the lines from the shore buttresses and tossed them over the widening gap onto empty spaces on the deck. I looked over Ben’s shoulder and spotted an expensive Blaupunkt radio console. There was a slot in the front of it with a tiny red light next to it. A disk player, I realized. I reached around Ben’s shoulder and pushed an unmarked button on the other side of the small, facing device. Music suddenly came out from everywhere around us: “I saw her today. I saw her face. It was a face I loved, and I knew I had to run away, and get down on my knees and pray that they’d go away…but still they begin, ah, needles and pins, ah, because of all my pride, the tears I gotta hide…”
The song was Needles and Pins, and I knew it from the Armed Forces Radio Network existent back when I was in the valley. The Searchers was the group, but that was all I knew, except for the depth of the lyrics. Some songs from that era had lyrics of such depth that didn’t apply to my life or possibly the men around ne nevertheless, they drew me and those men inside them to become something they weren’t before the song played.
Kingsley put the engines in reverse with the single big lever mounted on the dashboard, and Princess moved backwards, still idle. The lyrics and the sounds of the boat’s motors seemed slaved together. The lever went forward, and Ben added a bit of fuel with both throttles.
“Why can’t I stop and tell myself I’m wrong? I’m wrong, so wrong.
Why can’t I stand up and tell myself I’m strong?… Needles and pins…”
Ben added more of the Avgas, and the boat acted like a cat that was being petted as it purred its way out into the intercoastal canal.
I wanted my wife to be with me at that moment. It was totally out of place, but possibly, for the first time in my life, I thought I was coming to understand the earlier meaning of the word romance, which had had little to do with men and women being in love or making love.
The Princess pulled out into the very center of the waterway, which was about a hundred meters wide, where we were located. The song played, and then more old sixties music. Whoever made the disk was a man or woman I’d probably have liked to know.
“This is a powerful boat and so well balanced,” Kingsley said. “How did you know I would be able to pilot it?”
I shrugged my shoulders and sat down on the starboard bench seat. “You’re quick, like Nguyen. Both of you have cat DNA somewhere inside you. I just knew that you’d be able to do it. I don’t know why I knew.”
“I must tell you that I feel a deep need to take this Princess and really put the ‘pedal to the metal’ as is said by some Americans. It’s like the boat itself wants this.”
“That’s true for me too. I like the feeling, same as you, but this is our only break in the mission. Nguyen’s driving, and we will be waiting for long hours before we get to Miami. Mary is coming. Ryan is coming. The boat’s got to be combat-hardened and ready. The DEA has to be held off. We have to get the cash.” I stopped talking when I finally looked at the boat’s captain more closely.
“This is what you do, and it’s like at the circus. You juggle all these balls and keep them in the air until they’re allowed to fall onto the right places. I could never do what you do, I’m sorry to say that I would not want to even attempt it.”
I understood that my time of mental rest and contemplation, without any communication, interruptions or people appearing as if from nowhere in my life, was a time not only not shared by those around me but not understood either. I did none of that ‘juggling,’ as Ben put it. It just unfolded before me, and I moved with the rhythms I was provided, at least the way I viewed it. Running into stuff I’d figured out was part of all the adventure. If you don’t move, you can’t truly experience, so you keep moving and then run into things you never expected that change the course of travel and, in reality, change your life.
I took in the passing scenery. It was all the same. One marina, seaside restaurant, or bar after another. I marveled at the extent of it. Wisconsin was supposed to be the most alcohol consuming state in the union, but Florida had to be way up there, at least from what I was seeing along the shores.
“Time?” I asked, getting up and preparing to go down through the three steps leading to the comfortable area under the bow planking.
“Six hours or so, at ten to fifteen knots,” Kingsley replied.
We weren’t that far from Miami, but the speed had to be a ‘no wake’ speed to protect boats docked all along the thousands of piers that jutted out from both shores, and then there was the Manatee population underwater. I’d never seen one but was looking forward to it. I went down into the forward area to lie and rest. The depth of the boat was its greatest feature for comfort, at least until we got the fifty-caliber pod installed.
I fell asleep while thinking I was just lying back to relax. The quiet growling of the engines and the faint ethylene aroma penetrating the forward cabin had lulled me into a deeper relaxation state than I’d intended. I came to as quickly as I could and climbed the three steps up onto the deck, right next to where Kingsley stood. I’d given him control because I innately felt that men under my command had to be trusted with significant responsibility to learn, perform, and feel proud of what they did. Once on deck, any concern I might have faded away.
“Time,” I said.
“Fifteen to twenty minutes from contact,” Kingsley replied with a smile.
I went up to the bow and then back to the stern, coiling the landing lines that should have been coiled when we pulled from the pier if there’d been a properly trained crew. Kingsley and I stood shoulder to shoulder at the helm. The hotel was dead ahead.
I stared over the bow, the marina part of the hotel slowly taking shape on the north side of the main structure.
Even at a great distance, it was easy to spot Rosley Ryan. She was dancing at the end of one of the piers as if there was some source of music, which there might be, but we were too far away to hear. I knew Nguyen had to be there somewhere, but with the woman’s totally open expressiveness and his closeted amiable personality, things could be uncomfortable. How she had made it down to Florida, landed, got transported to the hotel, and then found the marina docks were impressive. Past Bowman probably had something to do with it.
Ryan saw us coming in toward the dock, but instead of getting ready to receive the ropes I was about to throw her, she tried to dance with Nguyen. Nguyen cooperated about as much as a marble statue while she performed around him.
“Maybe more than we bargained for,” Kingsley said, making sure his voice was not carrying over to the dock.
Rosley Ryan was brilliant as far as I was concerned. She was reading the situation and acting like a tourist on her first day of vacation. And then she changed completely, grabbing the lines as I threw them and tying them off on the chrome cleats located along the edge of the dock. I was shocked by the change from wild, expressive to able, willing, and capable deck hand.
“Maybe she’ll be alright,” Kingsley whispered as the engines went silent, making his words travel further than he intended.
“Oh, I’ll do Raja,” Rosley said with a laugh, making Kingsley cringe a little.
“Find a phone and call Key West,” I said to the three of them, now all on the boat, Ryan and Nguyen openly admiring the fit and very evident quality of the boat’s interior workmanship.
“Find out where we buy Avgas there. Lots of hot rod boats are in and out of there, so they must have a place. Find it. We’re going to need a dock, as well. It’s a hundred and sixty-six miles, or so, which means we’ll be fully at sea much of the time. It takes six hours to get there by boat. Once at a dock and refueled, we need an aircraft for surveillance photos. The Keyhole satellite put up there by the NRO is capable of giving us quality stuff, but nothing beats low level low speed 35mm film, except maybe larger format stuff. We need to know which island the mission’s going to take place on. Air Key West has charter flights. A Cessna 172 would be perfect. Low slowly and pretty much proven to be safe. I’ll make that call, though. I’m sure it’s not cheap, and I have the Amex card.”
“Mary’s coming,” Rosley said, offhand.
“Yes, that’s true,” I replied guardedly. Rosley was an attractive younger woman, and I was unsure how she’d react to Rosley if they met under such circumstances, with Ryan posing as my significant other. Mary was not generous about such things, and I had hoped to keep them apart, but could not deny Mary’s coming. Our preparation trip was not the mission, however, and any danger was likely to never appear, but one could never tell where such danger could come from and what form it might take. I knew I might have made a strategic error in giving in to my wife’s tactical play. There was no way she could truly understand the ‘business’ without living it, and she wanted to understand it in the worst way. My renditions of what happened, mission after mission, were insufficient to build a foundation of truth for her, but then, and she had to know it by now, there was little truth in what I did or what the Agency had me do.
I got off the boat, letting Kingsley know that we’d be departing at dawn, about seven the following morning. Dawn was like in Hawaii, the sunset too. Dawn at seven, the whole year, give or take a few minutes, and sunset at six. I’d visit Mary at the five-star hotel, but spend the night at a Holiday Inn with the team. Separate rooms for all of us, as the budget for the mission was so large.
I left them at the dock, heading into the main lobby of the fabulous hotel to find a phone. I had to call the charter flying company, the hotel, Tony, and possibly United Airlines to check where my wife was.
I went over to the counter to pay for Mary’s booking, only to discover that her room was already paid for, which surprised me. Asking about the payment went nowhere as the counter people would not give that information out.
“When do you expect her? I asked, hoping they’d give me something without proper I.D. which I didn’t want to give out.
“She’s already checked in,’ the woman said, “I can’t give you the room, but I can call her from here.”
I nodded, uncomfortably. “Could you have her meet me in the lobby in a few minutes. I’m her husband, Jim.”
I waited in the lobby as patiently as I could, hoping my wife had not been anywhere near the Marina when she arrived, and wondering how she got to Miami so fast.
When she finally came down, she looked wonderful, smiling and content to be where she was. We hugged, and I knew everything would be alright. We made plans to eat at the hotel later that night. I did not need to be with the team until the following morning, although I had no plans to stay with Mary at her hotel. I wasn’t an attractant of dangerous players, but I was ever aware that stuff could just come out of nowhere, too.
The call I made to Tony was truly shocking in content. Why me for this DEA kind of mission? Why specifically me when I had yet to be trained at the school?
“Your parents have a place on Green Bay’s Egg Harbor shoreline,” Tony began.
“Actually, it’s my uncle Nubby’s place, but they use it all the time,” I replied. “Kind of a family thing,” I said, the words haltingly because the conversation seemed to come out of nowhere, and where it was going was even more of a mystery.
“Coincidentally, that place is next door to the Peter Kohler husband and wife couple. That’s the Kohler family located at their prime residence in Kohler, Wisconsin. It’s kind of noteworthy that their address is simply their name and the name of their estate. Anyway, you also have a relationship with the couple.”
He stopped talking, and I waited, finally understanding that he wanted confirmation of that data.
“Yes,” I said, still not understanding where the conversation was going.
“Well, they own the island you are going to, which is not Hospital Island but an unnamed small patch of sand in the sea about ten miles further out from where Hospital Island is located.”
“Jesus,” I breathed into the receiver, not believing what I was hearing.
“We need permission to send you and your team ashore to take care of the place. We don’t believe the Kohlers know what’s going on, but if you can get that, then we don’t need probably cause, which we don’t have.”
“Well, I don’t know…” was all I could say as I took in what had been said.
“Does the Agency do this with everyone who works with us?” I asked, hurt and angry in my tone. “What right? And now I’m supposed to potentially turn in my neighbors for drug dealing or allowing it? Do you also know they asked me to go there when they figured out I was some kind of male macho war hero and live on that island to fix that problem?”
“We need this, my friend, and it will look really good for you.”
“I want immunity for them from a sitting U.S. attorney, and I want a form signed by the Secretary of the Navy called Letter of Marque for whatever we bring out except for drugs. I wondered about the size of the budget. It’s too much only because nobody is bringing in the guy who’s supposed to make all this happen. What’s my backup? There are just four of us and a great boat. One fifty caliber and whatever we bring against a drug cartel. You have to be kidding me.”
“You’re accurate in your assessment. One heavy cruiser and one destroyer escort will stand offshore awaiting your instructions. One nuclear attack sub of the Ohio class will be right there. If you take fire, then the island will basically cease to exist…once you are off it, of course.”
“When we’re done, if we live, I want the boat as personal property,” I said, knowing that it was against mission rules.
“Done,” Tony said almost instantly, letting me know that nothing was going on with this mission I knew nothing about.
“Mary’s at the Fontainebleau waiting for my return. I want some security there. She has no idea about whatever this mission is really about, but it’s no longer some visit to an abandoned island to take out a drug operation. Why is it called Murder Island, anyway?
”I can command Delta Force to provide security for your wife, but she may not like having that around her, and make her feel you are in danger more than you might want her to know. You know the rules about friends and family.”
“This isn’t a mission yet,” I reminded him.
“It’s funded, and the Navy is on board. Nobody has been issued a Letter of Marque since the Revolutionary War. Do you have that little trust in the U.S. Navy?”
Call me when we have a document of immunity and the Letter of Marque, and I don’t give a damn, between you and I, if the Navy doesn’t think I trust them.
“What’s the name of the nuclear sub?” I asked, thinking to put Tony in a tough spot, but it wasn’t to be.
“Kamehameha,” he shot back, nearly instantly. Once again, I was backed up against a wall. This mission was not of my planning. I didn’t want to call Peter. The relationship between him and his wife with my parents could be irreparably harmed if Peter came to understand what I really was.
My predator role in life would be surfaced, and Peter was no dummy, nor was his wife. I knew they saw me as this innocent insurance guy, having sold them two significant policies without having to go through my usual extortion sales process.
I had no choice as I hung up with Tony. I called the Holiday Inn and booked four rooms. Then the airport to book a plane for the morning. The woman manning the desk there told me they had no planes. I asked the rate for the distance to and from the mysterious island, and she said it was fifteen hundred plus the fuel, but they were booked. I told her that I would pay four thousand with Amex immediately for a seven o’clock flight in the morning. I waited as the line went silent for a while.
When she came back, her question told me we had a plane.
“How many passengers?” she asked.
“Three,” I replied, the decision on the fly to leave Rosley behind.
“Two hundred extra per passenger, but the fuel is two hundred extra too.”
I felt like the woman was terribly uncomfortable with demanding those excessive prices, but it didn’t matter; the amount of mission money would not even notice that kind of minor hit. Destroyers, cruisers, and nuclear subs were way more than that, even if they simply stood offshore and waited for development.
I called Peter Kohler and told him that I’d spoken to the Secretary of the Navy, and the Navy was going in to clean his island off if he gave his permission
I didn’t know what to say when I finished talking,
“Who are you, anyway?” he asked.
I said nothing, just waited.
“I agree, and the immunity is real?”
“Yes,” I replied.
“How can I be sure of that?” he asked.
I took a few seconds to think before responding.
“Because of what you think I am,” I replied. “Do you agree?”
“Yes, I agree, but will this take paperwork?
“No, you are on a recorded line that splices into Washington, D. C.”
“I guess I can stop asking who you really are,” he said.
I hung up. There was no good answer to his question.
I called Tony back and told him where we’re going for the landing.
Roger Roberts, whom I wanted to call Roger Rabbit, flew the plane low over the island, which was almost exactly where the NRO said it was going to be. The raised white spot on the ocean seemed to flick right by, as I could see the airspeed was about 150. The cabin of the Cessna 172 I’d rented was cramped with Roger the pilot, Nguyen, Kingsley, and me wedged into it. The high wing was important to me because I wanted my own photos of the place. Roger wasn’t the most accommodating of pilots, but then I couldn’t exactly bring him aboard about what we were doing. Roget would land and talk. Kris Anderson would have been a terrific man to have as the pilot, but even Kris couldn’t be fully included, and there was the family and friends thing to think about there, too.
The Leica R5 camera cost had been about nine thousand with a couple of decent 50mm and 90mm lenses. The rig was heavy and bulky, though, as I tried to make the best use of the open passenger window on my side of the plane. I imagined KH-11 satellite shots taken from space would be better, but Tony hadn’t indicated when or how I’d be receiving them. I needed imagery now if the mission was to proceed.
The island was a twenty-two-acre oval beneath us. Ninety percent sand with no water supply or anything else. Roger finally brought the 172 into a circular arc that allowed me to take a whole roll of 36 shots of the place, before he pulled us out and headed further out toward the unregistered part of the chain. I didn’t want him to know that our intent was almost totally focused on the one specific island that had no name. Three Qunset huts and an airstrip. One flagpole with a tattered American flag appeared to always be flying. No one was visible, and no other equipment was either. The huts weren’t big enough to allow a plane to be inside them.
All of a sudden, in my magnified viewfinder, a man appeared outside of one of the Quonsit huts. He held what had to be a weapon.
“Pull out and get us out of here,” I said to Roger, taking the man’s photo as he brought what looked to be a double-barreled shotgun up to his shoulder. He didn’t fire, however, but the pilot saw him and veered the 172 sharply to port.
“Holy shit, he’s aiming at us. Who are you people, anyway?”
In seconds, we were safely away from the threat of any guy with only a shot range shotgun, but the pilot was not satisfied.
“There’s an extra charge for this flight, and we’re done here.”
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