THE COWARDLY LION, Volume Six, Chapter XXII

 Roger Rabbit, the pilot, flew us directly back to the airport in Key West.

No one said a word, and even though it was hard to be heard inside the plane, which, with Robert pushing the speed to the little plane’s maximum, the reason for the complete silence had nothing to do with the plane’s speed or the noise the little continental hundred and forty-five horsepower engine produced.  Roger was burning with anger, which had been ignited by facing a combat threat for likely the first time in his life, even if the shotgun would not have had the range to reach up to the height of where the Cessna had been flying at the time.  It was easy to tell, sitting in the seat next to him, that the man wasn’t angry at the unknown gunman, but at us, the men he suspected of having flown him into potentially terminal conditions.

The plane nosed down and flew into the tarmac at the airport we’d flown out of earlier.  The landing was unnecessarily hard, and the small plane bounced several times as its three small wheels puffed some slight smoke up high enough to be seen looking back out of the side window.

Once the plane stopped, the rental car we’d arrive in pulled out onto the asphalt and made its way slowly toward us as first Roger, and then the remaining three of us, clumsily exited the plane.  I saw Joan Rosley Ryan through the windshield as she pulled the car in toward us, finally turning and planning the vehicle just under the Cessna’s left-wing tip.  Rosley jumped out, failing to see Roger’s frown at the fact that the car’s roof was only short of the bottom of the wing by about six or seven inches, which drew respect from me for the woman’s driving and distance perceptions.  Rosley Ryan was proving to be a valuable, albeit unpredictable, commodity, which proved to also be something Roger Rabbit failed to grasp as he walked over to her and told her about endangering his aircraft.

Ryan said nothing, only standing and looking like a beautiful woman and absorbing the insults.

“Roger,” I said, approaching the man from behind.  “She wasn’t aware of the delicacy of the aircraft, so just let it go.  There was no harm done, and we’ll pay the extra premium.”

Roger turned slowly, focusing his attention fully on me.

“Nobody does what you people just did to me,” his tone rose and became more forceful as he said each word, extending his right arm and pointing while he advanced the few feet between us.

I felt more than saw Nguyen and Kingsley gently spread sideways from what could develop into anything while I worked to think about how to defuse the situation.  I’d made one mistake on this ‘training and preparatory mission’, if not two, by allowing my wife to come anywhere close while we worked.

“We mean you no harm,” I said, raising my hands to show Roger my open palms.

“You sound like a bad actor in a science fiction movie,” Roger growled out.

I almost wanted to giggle as the man was right.  Was that the best I had, I wondered as I waited to see what would happen next.

“Do you see how those two men have spread out and prepared?” Rosley interjected from the side. These men really are aliens as far as you’re concerned, and whatever danger you felt you were in up in the plane, you are now in far greater and more assured danger.  Is that where you want to be?”

“Oh, right, Roger said, turned to face her, but keeping me angled so he could still see me.  It was like he saw me as the danger she was talking about and not the real danger of Nguyen and Kingsley off to each side, now unmoving as they waited for resolution or to be called into action.

“And what are you going to do about it?” Roger asked, staring straight into Rosley’s eyes.

I realized that Rosley Ryan was in control, and not me.  With his attention on her, I wondered if we should not strike before he made any more violent, threatening moves.  Then Rosley made her totally unexpected move.

Her hair was tied up until she undid the scarf and let her long, beautiful auburn hair flow around her angelic face, upon which was a huge, inviting smile.

“So, you want to buy me a drink?” she said, holding out one hand toward Roger.  “You’re cute.”

I was astounded then, not by what she’d done or attempted to do but by Roger turning into putty and stepping forward to accept her hand in his own.

“There’s a great aviators bar back near the headquarters,” Roger said to her before l looking over at me.

“You mind?” he asked, his tone even and his expression seeming decidedly friendly and real.

“No,” I answered, for the three of us left behind. They walked away together, hand in hand.

The three of us gathered back together and stood watching them disappear.

“Will she be okay? That was a pretty smart move and brave too,” Kingsley said, stating the obvious.

“You mean, will he be okay?” I think you should ask, and it was brilliant, not smart.  “She might just have saved the mission.”

“We are aliens,” Kingsley breathed out, “but we do often mean harm.”

Get the stuff into the car, which I fully presume she left the keys in,” I said, going back for the camera case so I could unload the Leica and then pack the small cannisters into my pocket to get them into a one hour developing store.

The keys were in the car, as we loaded and then climbed in.

“How will she get back to the hotel?” Kingsley asked, genuine concern in his voice.

“He’ll drive her, but it doesn’t matter. The woman is a natural player. Like me, she’ll go to training to be an instructor like me rather than a student.”

“We need car phones for the mission,” Kingsley stated.  “Three cars and three car phones. They work very well in this part of Florida, but I’m not so sure out around Murder Island.  Expensive tools but very effective.”

“So much to do,” I said, “and so little time.  “We also need to make the run to Key West and get a place for the boat. The airport here will have AVgas.  The run from Miami is about 120 miles, and with the Princess, we can stay pretty far offshore on a good day, which I hope tomorrow is one, and do about fifty to sixty miles an hour.  We also get a real feel for the craft and how it handles open ocean. Our trip straight to the mission island is then down to about sixteen miles, if that, so we can get in and out fast.”

The drive back to the Fontainebleau took two hours and forty minutes with low traffic and running over the speed limit wherever possible.

They took the car and dropped me off, hoping that Mary was there.  They’d get a bite and head back to the hotel, and I’d have dinner with Mary and head over there later.  In the back of my mind, I vaguely worried about Rosley but shook it off.  The woman was so adept at handling herself, but she was still a rather lightweight woman with a rather aggressive male.  Kingsley’s question to me from the back seat on the way back to Miami also bothered me a bit.   Why had I been required to get Kohler’s permission?  We were CIA, not law enforcement. There was not going to be any resort to courts or legal procedures, so what did we need probable cause for anything on the mission? Mary had already voiced her disapproval of my being involved in any CIA operations on American soil.

The United States Naval involvement bothered me, as well.  Committing large combat ships was frightfully expensive, and Posse Comitatus really didn’t allow for shelling American territory or killing anyone on such territories. I did not have satellite data, so I could not prove to myself that the island might, in fact, be just outside U.S. territory, although sure as hell not out of U.S. waters.

Tony had some explaining to do, although the adventure of the mission was something well beyond running off to Korea for administrative duties, or dealing with Allen Weh and Charter Services, or even selling insurance and running the office, or offices as they were becoming. The only things that compared were hot air ballooning with Kris Anderson and, quite possibly, the UFO thing, not to mention Los Alamos and the artifact and what that might be turned into.

I stopped in the lobby to place a call to Tony. He answered right away, which always told me that what I was doing was of a measured importance.  This time it was fast, and that, with the size of the budget and the American Navy being involved but not being in charge, was problematic.

“Tony,” I began, “all of a sudden, I’m running a mission that’s more than huge with basically the U.S. Navy under my command, or so it damn well seems.  I don’t have that kind of rank, and they know that.  You are going to have to fill me in at some point.  I mentioned my likely ex-friends, the Kohlers, and Mary’s Posse Comitatus concerns, as well as the huge budget.

“Put your head down and do your job, which for right now is getting ready for a mission that may never take place,” he answered, being his usual very evasive self.

“Tony,” I said, more forcefully.

“Look,” he replied, when I didn’t say anything more.  “You get to know what we do in analysis and operations back here just about as much as we get to know what you are doing out there on missions in the field.  You give us what in your after-action reports, other than the success, about maybe twenty to thirty percent?  Well, it works the same way in the other direction.  I know you don’t necessarily like not telling me the truth, and I feel the same way, so will you put a cork in it?”

I was surprised, not by his attitude but by his numbers and feelings about my feelings.  I didn’t mind lying to him or the home office at all. I was risking my life in the field time after time, and they were not back home.  And if they gave me as much as twenty to thirty percent, I was shocked because I gave them and Tony about five percent.

“When do we leave the line of departure, and when are you going to give me more?” I asked, ignoring his failure to answer any of my questions.  When he didn’t respond, I asked in more definitive detail.  “It’s my opinion that I cannot function in the remainder of this mission unless I know more, and now.”

“I can’t share top secret data over a hotel lobby line, and you know it, so stop the threats.

“Give me a hint then, anything,” I wheedled and begged.

There was another long silence, for which I fell back on the old life insurance training of Bartok and Thorkelson. I waited, albeit impatiently.

“What you are best at and known for,” Tony said, saying like he was being forced to give away some secret involved with the saving of the world. I thought for a moment. I could not conclude.  It would take some thought and maybe counseling with Mary when I got to the room or over dinner.

“We need more cars and car phones in three down here for the mission and five in Albuquerque,” I requested, “and I know they’re expensive, but the question is, can they be made secure?

“Okay,” Toney gave in, “but no more Mercedes, BMW, and Range Rovers.”

“They work fine and all the time,” I answered, slightly hurt by his unspoken insinuation.

“You’re an intelligence agent, and back here you need to remember that such things as exotic cars are too memorable,” Tony said.  “They make you and your family targets. Allen Weh drives a mini pickup.”

I couldn’t believe my ears.  “Allen Weh flies all over the world in three-to-five-million-dollar jets we are paying for!”

“Maybe he wasn’t the best example I could have come up with,” He replied, his tone one of minor contrition.

“Fine, make the cars those Taurus SHOs with the biggest engines,” I concluded, not wanting to argue anymore about small stuff.

“What color?” Tony continued, but I stopped him.

“I don’t care, whatever you think,” I said.  “No matter what color, they will all look like cars that grandparents drive, except for the big engines and unidentifiable suspensions.”

“Fire engine red,” Tony responded, like he was making notes.

“Very funny,” I replied, thinking about the fact that this was the first I’d heard of Tony making a joke, even though it was a bit weak.

“You’re giving me anything I asked for, and that’s kind of scaring me,” I said, telling him the truth.  “How about a spaceship?” I said, trying to match his weak humor.

“Can get you a ride in the back seat of an SR-71 after two days of flight training,” Tony responded, instantly.

That stopped me. “You’re not kidding, are you?” I asked, now growing concerned that I might not be coming back from this new mission at all.

“When?” I asked.

“We don’t have time right now to measure you for a pressure suit or go to the school,” Tony replied, telling me in his way that he was telling the truth.

“No, but thank you, Tony,” replied, most sincerely. “I meant, when does this thing kick off, and when do I get fully briefed?”

“Soon, very soon,” Tony said, “but now think about the clue that I gave you, which I probably should not have.  I am, despite what you think, very protective of you and care for your safety.”

I wanted to laugh out loud, but I couldn’t do it to the man. He was sincere, although the actions of the Agency and even Tony, time after time, put me in about as much harm’s way as my time in the A Shau.  Not as compressed nor constant but very dangerous nevertheless, and some of the danger wasn’t over in coming home as it had been from the Nam, of which Phil Marlowe had decisively proven, or even Marcinko and some of the other macho warrior types, of which I was thankful and proud that I was not one.  The A Shau comparison always stayed with me, even though I well knew that no other experience on earth would be so filled with such abject hopeless terror.

“I’ve got to get the boat to Key West, get it refueled, docked, and then back to fly out later in the day.  I’ll keep calling because I won’t really be findable, as I don’t think I’m worth dedicating a Big Bird satellite to the task, although I do need some decent recon photos and maps from one.  A ground penetrating series will help me avoid any obstacles if I can have one by morning.  I don’t want to go full-blown out into the ocean for the trip.  Likely too rough to make good time, even in that hulking monster of a boat.”

Tony hung without comment in his usual way.

I went up to Mary’s room, expecting her to be waiting, and she was.

Dinner downstairs a bit later was a culinary delight, and Mary’s company was terrific, as usual, until I brought up the subject of Posse Comitatus. At the potential likelihood the island was in U.S. territory, whether being in U.S.waters or not, she was adamantly opposed to my participating in such a mission.  I never really got to the Kohler call or the revelations that had occurred.  A year earlier, at a dinner with the couple at their chateau, she’d not been offended when they mentioned that we should consider moving to the island so I could regain control of their property.  One year seemed like a very long time ago in light of the developments of just about everything.

We parted. She would leave for home in the morning, and I would make the trip to Key West to do what needed to be done there and then get back to Miami and fly out with the team. It all seemed so matter-of-fact when almost none of it was.  Back at the low-budget hotel, I found all three of my compatriots there, waiting in the room I had booked, adjoining Nguyen.  Rosely Ryan was there, and I was relieved.

“So, how did it go with the great ape?” I asked, point-blank.

“He was just really afraid about what happened and of you, although he couldn’t show it.  There was nothing I could tell him, of course, but he’d guessed quite a bit from being threatened by the man on the island and then you and the others here, not reacting like that was a big deal at all.   He knows he stepped into something, but has no idea what.”

“That’s the report, in its entirety?” I replied, in surprise, before going on.  “That was a brilliant move on your part, and I was and remain impressed,” I finished, wanting to ask what happened between Rosley and Roger, but refraining.

She would tell me what she would tell me, and I had to be satisfied.  Her move, and then potential price or sacrifice, did not call for a revelation, particularly not in front of the others.

“Okay, we’re up in the early a.m., I said, “we meet at the boat and get ready to set sail once the one-hour photo place is open, and we have some hard copy.  Kingsley and I will pilot the boat while Nguyen and Joan can drive the rental to pick us up. We’ll meet at the Conch Harbor Marina, where they sell Avgas, rent a dock there, and head to Miami to go home.

I turned to look at Kingsley, but Ryan interrupted.

“I want to ride in the boat,” she said.

I stared at her. The woman was continuously surprising me, and this time, I was boxed in.  She’d paid her dues, and a likely rough boat ride was not too much to ask.  It might make the trip more interesting.

“Okay, you’re in,” I replied, looking at Nguyen.

“You okay on your own?” I asked him, but he only slightly smiled in return.  I’d take you, but there are only civilians around for this part of the mission, so we’re not likely to need your real skills.

“Oh, like the plane flight?” Rosley blurted out.

I had no response for that one, so I changed the subject.

I’m going to violate protocol and stay with Mary tonight.  I really don’t want to leave her on her own.  I know there’s little danger at that monster of a hotel, but I won’t sleep a wink worrying about any potential.”

Nobody complained.

“Do you know what time the photo place opens?’ I asked Kingsley.

“Nine,” he shot back.

“Okay, the rest of us will get to the boat at eight and then cast off after suitable preparations.  Nguyen can pick up the photos and then proceed to Key West.  He should beat us by using the highway, although it’s longer by car than by boat in distance.”

We were done, since nobody had anything else to say.  I went through the adjoining door to pack what little I had and get ready to move out of the hotel.  Rosley followed me into the room and shut the door behind her, which made me uncomfortable.

“What is it?” I asked, turning to face her.

“Nothing happened with Roger,” she said.

“I’m glad of that,” I replied, making me even more uncomfortable.

“Just wanted you to know,” she said, lightly, before going back through the opening.

I sighed deeply.  Was there a problem developing between us?  One that I certainly didn’t want to deal with.  My romantic interest was my wife, although it might just be that Ryan was considering me like her brother, father, priest, or whatever.  Maybe protector.  Those were more acceptable than lover.  The Agency did not permit a team leader to sleep with team members or even indigenous assets. The punishment for getting caught was not death or being fired.  That was movie stuff.  In real life, they needed team leaders’ experience and irreplaceable contacts. The punishment was that they’d take your home, or your cars, or your bank account,s and then never even say what the action was based on.  Not movie stuff, but much more effective and productive.  That they’d find out was not in question.  They were the CIA.  They’d find out.

I had Kingsley drive me to the hotel and drop me off.  I went inside and straight up to Mary’s room.  She was happy to see me and have me stay with her, and everything seemed fine until we were lying in bed.

“Tomorrow, I want to wait and fly home with you.”

“Okay,” I replied, feeling a small bit of discomfort.

“And I want to ride along on that boat,” she said with a laugh.  “I think it would be fun.”

I tried not to panic.  Mary was unaware of Rosley Ryan’s presence or her role in the operation so far.  If my wife and Rosley were on the boat with Kingsley and me, then there was going to be hell to pay, and I’d be the one going to hell.  It was too late to use some flimsy excuse to get down to the lobby and call the other hotel. I’d have to find some way to get Ryan off the boat, as well as not in the recovery rental Nguyen would be driving, and I’d have little time to pull that off in the early morning hours.

I tried to sleep, thinking about how so many things were going wrong and the real mission hadn’t even started yet.