Cigarettes for Two: A Lee Thomas Novel (Spy Dreams Book 3) Page 6

  We spent the rest of the flight catching up on what we had been up to and talking about the things we could only talk about with people of a similar security clearance. Hank and I also talked Virginia Tech sports. You get a couple alumni together from any school and the conversation will turn to sports. After the sports talk the conversation turned to things that had happened in Blacksburg Virginia while we had been in school. He was a few years older than me but college stories never change just the participants do. We were both part of a subset of Virginia Tech alumni. He was Corps of Cadets and I was civilian but we both had lived on upper quad and even in the same dorm. I guess the major groups at a college are where you lived: area, dorm floor, what you studied, what organizations you were in and when you were there. When you got right down to it you might have something very much in common with a man who had graduated before you were born and very little in common with someone in your graduating class.

  I do not recall exactly how long the flight lasted. We talked about various and sundry things. Hank continued my unofficial lessons into flying a helicopter, something he often did when we flew together. I was not great at flying a whirly bird but I could keep it in the air. If I had to I could probably even get it on the ground. The landing might not be pretty and would probably prang the bird really badly, but it might be survivable. I think that he gave me the lessons to pass time and for that worst case scenario situation. In our line of work you try hard to prepare for the things that could not possibly ever happen. Everyone knows Murphy’s Law. “Anything that can go wrong will go wrong, usually in the worst possible way at the worst possible time.” Two groups live by O’Bryan’s Law. These groups are computer technicians and clandestine operatives. What is O’Bryan’s law? Simply stated it is that “Murphy was an optimist.”

  Our flight took a bit longer than it could have. Hank’s flight plan was not direct. We curved around a bit to avoid entering into airspace controlled by a local tower. When I asked him why he shrugged and said “paper trail”. It seems as if the powers running the show wanted as little evidence of this flight as possible. Well, we were both very used to situations like that. In our line of work a lot of things officially never happened. I was listening to the radio traffic as we got close enough to contact Pensacola NAS control. Hank called them just before they called us.

  “Pensacola NAS control this is Marine transport flight call sign ST007 requesting vector and landing.”

  “Marine ST007 you are cleared into the pattern at a vector of 265 degrees. Contact the tower after entering the pattern for landing instructions, over.” The voice was that neutrally accented voice that is cultivated by flight controllers in the military and civilian worlds. This voice was female.

  “Roger, NAS control, vector of 265 degrees. I will contact tower upon entering pattern. Marine ST007 out.”

  I looked over at Hank and he knew what I was thinking and he looked at me. “The call sign was in the briefing packet. I figure General Fleming was behind that one.”

  “No doubt. Who else would assign a call sign that could be read out phonetically as spy transport 007?” We both laughed at that one.

  When you run a government agency that specializes in clandestine operations, your name is John Fleming, you served in the OSS and you knew Ian Fleming you better have a sense of humor about things. We were still laughing a bit when we entered the landing pattern and got our clearance and landing instructions. Our touchdown and taxi went without a hitch. Of course for those of you who do not know how helicopters land at airfields our touching down was a bit of a misnomer. Helicopters coming into airports come in over the runway just as an airplane does and then fly low along the taxiways to the hangar areas. You can see the obvious problems with potential collisions if aircraft are taking to the air just anywhere. Two Navy personnel were waiting as we actually put skids on the ground at our designated spot.

  We removed our headsets and unbuckled as the rotor blades came to a stop. The ground crew was moving toward us as we opened the doors and stepped out. I opened the back door and got my bag. One of the waiting men held a clipboard and wore petty officer insignia.

  “Major Hopkins,” he said to Hank as he saluted. After the salute was returned he handed the clipboard to Hank who signed a form fastened there. “Thank you sir. The office over there has your transportation arrangements.” He pointed to the windows and door on the side wall of a hangar. After another exchange of salutes we walked to the office.

  Upon entering the room a Naval rating behind the desk came to attention when he saw the gold oak leaves on Hank’s flight suit. Hank threw him a salute, “At ease. I am Major Hopkins and this is Marshal Thomas. We were told there is transportation for us.”

  “Yes Sir,” the young man responded after he saluted. “I will have someone take you right over to the docks at Sherman’s cove. We took the boat over there to get it in the water. Sir, that’s one awesome looking boat.” He picked up the phone, dialed and talked for a moment with someone on the other end. “They will be here in less than five minutes to take you to the dock.”

  Since we had been sitting on the flight up we just stood and waited on our ride. It was actually only about three minutes. The vehicle that pulled up outside was a Dodge crew cab truck in Navy blue with government plates. We walked out to the truck as it came to a stop. Hank got in the shotgun seat and I took my bag and sat in the right hand back seat.

  “Drive on Seaman,” Hank said as he made a let’s go motion with his hand.

  “Aye, Aye sir,” was the response and we pulled out. We went out a nearby gate, crossed Blue Angel Parkway and turned into a small marina.

  The slip that he pulled up to had a maroon boat with gray trim. Think Sonny Crockett’s boat with bigger balls. There was an airfoil like structure across the cockpit that had lights and a radar antenna mounted. General Fleming must have liked the thought of putting me in a boat with Virginia Tech colors. The name of the boat was written across the stern in burnt orange. I don’t know if that was the name originally on the boat or the owner was a drinker or my boss’s sense of humor again, but the boat’s name was “Wild Turkey”. A petty officer and a pair of seamen were obviously finishing up some last minute details on the boat. They did not see us until I spoke.

  “I wonder if that name was the General’s idea.” I said as I turned to Hank. He was grinning.

  “Maybe, maybe not, but I like it.” We Hokies love our orange and maroon.

  “Permission to come aboard Petty Officer?”

  “Granted Sir. We were just putting the finishing touches on some special equipment.” I was not in uniform of any service but he did salute Hank.

  After I stepped aboard I had him give me the rundown on this fine piece of machinery. The boat had monster sized turbo charged diesel engines, radar, rather large fuel tanks and hidey holes for smuggling. The hiding places were for those times the cargo was not as bulky as large amounts of drugs or cash were. As he was getting ready to tell me more a tall very black man stepped up into the cockpit from the cabin. It was someone I had not seen in several years and then it had been half a world away.

  “Johansen? What the hell are you doing here? When last I saw this man he was in charge of a small force of French Foreign Legionnaires on a little vacation trip in Libya.

  “The real name is Jacob Jones. Johansen was an alias for the Legion. I finished up that contract and headed home. Now I do work for our government. I have been hired to make sure you do not sink this fine vessel and to cover your ass from outside the circle of known associates.” His accent was pure Detroit and he smiled broadly as he spoke. He looked at Hank, grinned and waved.

  “Your name is Jones and you used an alias for the Legion.” I asked what seemed like a reasonable question.

  He shrugged, “It seemed like a good idea at the time. Anyway, I have been sent here by your boss. Sergeant-Major Johnson also sends his regards and a care package of things that might be useful.” I knew about Sam’s care pa
ckages.

  “Anything really loud in that package?”

  “Oh Yeah!” He said in a tone of voice that only a combat veteran could manage. “You are going to love a couple of these toys.” When your ass has been shot at by often superior numbers you develop an appreciation of very loud and dangerous things.

  “So why send you?”

  “Well you know me, sort of, and I know boats.” I looked at him with a bit of a sideways glance. Laughing as he spoke he answered my unspoken question, “I was a Navy Seal and sniper before the Legion. I know a thing or two about boats and this is a very fine machine. I will brief you on some of the more arcane features of this craft on the trip.” Out of the corner of my eye I could see the Petty Officer grinning and shaking his head in agreement.

  “Well, if the Petty Officer thinks I will be in good hands we need to get this tub heading toward another part of the state.” I turned to Hank, “So how long are you assigned down here?”

  “At least one more week or until orders saying something different come through. I have a feeling that someone we all know will have input on my orders. He is like that.” He was talking about General John Fleming, USA retired. I will give these guys a ride back to the Air Station. You two head out. Watch out for Jonesy, he is one wild ass Navy SEAL.”

  “And this crazy ass white boy is one bat shit crazy chopper pilot, but then aren’t all chopper pilots? Some more than others.” Jacob’s grin was wide and unforced.

  “You two know each other?”

  “Yeah, Nam was a small war and the special ops people tended to gravitate to the crazy pilots or the crazy pilots gravitated to them. The crazy ones would get them into and especially out of some really bad LZ’s. I flew Recon teams and Seals into and out of places that will be classified for another twenty years at least.” Hank smiled for a moment and then his expression grew dark for a moment as he had one of those memories he would rather forget. I think he actually shuddered. He shook each of mine and Jacob’s hands and then got off the boat and headed up the dock with the Navy guys in tow.

  “Jacob, shall we cast off and fire this mother up?”

  “Aye Aye Captain.” He headed for the bow and stern lines as I stepped to the controls. I turned the key and pressed the starter switch. The big diesels rumbled to life. I let Jacob take the controls. I had never handled a boat this big.

  “Take her out, Jacob.” He eased the throttle forward and we began to move. “Have you been briefed on who I am on this op?”

  “That is affirmative. The pair of us are a couple of combat vets willing to work outside the law for the money and the adrenaline rush.” He paused a moment, got a lopsided grin on his face and then laughed slightly, “Sounds about right.”

  We slowly moved through the no wake zone of the small marina and exited into the water way that led to the Gulf of Mexico. When we got offshore he turned east and began to stretch the legs of that oh so fine machine on the 335 mile run toward Tampa. This was a really serious BOAT!

  Chapter 9

  Being in the Gulf of Mexico on a Friday in a fine boat like this was fun. If I had not been working I might have dropped a line in the water and opened a cold beer. This boat did have seats. Some of the offshore racing type boats of that era did not. Some people felt that they got less beat up by letting their legs absorb the shock of moving through the chop. On a long trip seats are a real plus. We were not going flat out, but we were still making serious time as we headed to the Tampa area. Our course had taken us a bit due east along the panhandle and then we had begun a bee line course to Tampa/St. Pete. Jacob showed me most of the goodies installed on the boat, the majority of which had been installed before the boat was impounded. Those items were radar, radio direction finder and really good radios.

  The one item that had been installed by the Navy was a very early model experimental GPS. This one was disguised so that it could be switched into a mode that made it look like a fish finder on the display. Since we had this we had decided to go straight to our next stop and not follow the coastline. This would cut a lot of time off of our trip. With the radar running we cranked up the speed out on the Gulf.

  Our weather was perfect and the water was not glass smooth but the chop was minimal so we were not bouncing everywhere. I also was getting a course on boat handling and seamanship. Since our boat was fast, the seas were calm, our starting time fairly early in the day and daylight savings time being in effect we were figuring on getting to the Tampa area right around sundown or a bit later. Fuel was no problem due to our large tanks, but even with radar the area we were headed through is busy. Since we were not yet smuggling there was no reason to run the risk of a high speed run through heavily trafficked areas.

  I learned more about this boat as we headed to Tampa. This had actually been in one of the movies of the actor that it had been confiscated from. He had bought it after production had wrapped. Since it was a movie boat it had some interesting extra features.

  “This thing was set up as a secret agent’s boat in an action film. There were rocket launchers, claymore mines, machine guns and other goodies.” His face wore the look of a mischievous ten year old. “We made some of those things real before the boat left the hangar for the marina.”

  My jaw dropped, “You mean this is now an honest to goodness ‘spy boat’?”

  “Yeah, it’s kind of cool. There are no guns, the vertical firing rockets are just fireworks and there are no depth charges. We do have claymores and some real forward firing rockets. Sergeant-Major Johnson got the rockets. The claymores I acquired from some Marines.”

  “Does General Fleming know about these modifications?”

  “Probably, the size rockets we needed are hard to find. Of course, technically we did not modify the boat; we just returned it to original condition. We also put in an IFF unit and some special signal lamps. The signal lamps are invisible to the naked eye but show up under night vision, but only if you are overhead. We can send Morse code with them, handy for dealing with Navy and Coast Guard choppers and airplanes.” The lights were redundant. The IFF (Identify Friend or Foe) unit should keep us from getting shot at.

  As the sun began to set into the Gulf to the west we were getting close. Jacob had set us up at a small marina for the night over the radio. The light was almost gone as we slipped into a berth and tied up. I went to the office and took care of the business stuff. When I returned we secured the boat, it had a security system that was state of the art. To take that boat anywhere without knowing the security codes would take a towboat or hours bypassing the electronics. The dock master called us a cab and we went to get some dinner. After a nice meal and no alcohol other than a beer each with the meal we headed back to the “Turkey” and slept on the boat. This craft was a fair bit larger than the majority of this class of boat so the cabin was more than adequate. We only talked for a few minutes mostly to see what we had each been up to since Libya in August 1981. A long day on the water and the gentle motion of the boat combined for a good night’s sleep.

  I think it was about 6:30 the next morning when I woke up to Jacob leaving the boat. I fell back to a very light sleep after that. A half hour or forty-five minutes he returned. The boat movement woke me. One of my pistols was slid between the cabin wall and the mattress that I was lying on. My hand slipped to the handle of the gun out of long term training and survival instinct. I laid there with my eyes seemingly closed till I saw who it was and then moved my hand away from the pistol and swung my legs to the deck.

  “I saw you move that hand. I do the same thing. Maybe I’ll be able to break that habit after I’m an old man.” He was laughing slightly as he spoke.

  “No, the two of us will probably put the hand near where we think a gun is when we are on our deathbeds. Some things just get ingrained,” I laughed back, seeing the humor and yet being more than slightly serious. I smelled coffee. There were two very large to go cups and a wonderfully scented bag on the small table in the cabin.

  �
�I went to a little place down the street. I saw it last night. Doughnuts and coffee, breakfast of special ops.”

  “Damn, how in the hell do you Navy guys always find coffee this strong?” I said as I took a sip. The coffee was very good and very, very strong. There was no hint of bitterness to the brew.

  “The little shop is owned by a retired Navy man. After cooking for years on ships he doesn’t know any other way to make it. Ah, you have to love that ‘Frankenstein’s blend’.” He said after a large swallow.

  “Great in the morning since it can bring the dead to life.” It was a joke we had shared once before at the expense of a now deceased Brit.

  We talked about the day ahead and other stuff. Today we would stay mostly insight of the coast as we headed south and then east through the Keys. He had been given information that I had not. There was a berth waiting for us on Key Largo, near enough to get to from Miami and far enough away to not have business associates trying to mess with the boat. There was also a car waiting there that would be Jacob’s daily transportation and get me back to my car. We would share the safe house. Since there was no paperwork that had not already been taken care of we finished up, untied and headed back out into the Gulf of Mexico and turned south after we got about two miles offshore. This time we stayed close enough to see land and far enough out to be out of the way of most people. There was a tropical depression headed into the Gulf so the chop was heavier, because of that our speed that day was slower most of the time.

  It was still a long way from night when we turned east for a short run before heading around the tip of the peninsula and then turning northward. Our rented berth was on the mainland side of Key Largo. The small marina had awesome security. Gates to the marina had electronic locks. The gates to the main docks had electronic locks as did the gates to individual boat slips. There was armed security that patrolled the marina. This level of security caused this to be a favorite marina of those with really expensive watercraft. The real truth was that this marina was a front. The ownership was a shell company that was owned by a company in Indianapolis. The Indiana corporation was in turn owned by a company in Duluth. The company in Duluth was itself owned by a Texas holding firm which was owned by a small investment group in Maryland. The investment group was a government front run by several agencies. There may have even been a couple of other steps in between.