Revenge (Bone Frog Bachelor Book 3), page 8
“That’s what I thought, too.”
My mind raced to think of all the preparation we were doing for the Town Hall Meeting, which heightened the relevance. “We’re going to start advertising about the meeting. Boy if there’s a wacko out there who’s watching my broadcast or your interviews, I sure would like to know that before we have that town hall, wouldn’t you?”
“Do you want to come with me?”
I hesitated, I had so much to do. I actually thought she would do a better job on her own. But I offered to come if she absolutely felt it was necessary.
“I would appreciate it, Shannon. I mean we’re all on the same team here, maybe if you were there, and you gave your opinions it would add more credibility, more weight. I’ve gotten calls over the years, you know those awful disgusting calls that I think they dial at random but this one seemed to be more personal.”
I agreed with her and checked my schedule. “How about if I meet you over there at about 11:00. And if we’re still in the mood, as a thank you Rebecca, I’ll take you to lunch afterwards, how about that?”
“Shannon, you’re speaking my language.”
The Pinellas County Sheriff who sat across the table from Rebecca and I was mildly interested in the information we gave him, until we reminded him about the bombing of the Bone Frog Development Group offices several months ago and the resulting loss of life. Then he got very interested. He excused himself and brought a female officer in with him introducing her as on loan from the FBI ATF.
“It’s not really all that exciting,” she said. “They wrote a grant proposal, and they received some federal funds to monitor certain terrorist groups within the state of Florida. I have a broad territory to cover, but if it’s a bomb or running of guns or suspected smuggling of any of those, I’m to help share the load, and give them extra resources.”
“Got it,” Rebecca said.
“So let me ask you, what makes you think these are related?”
Rebecca and I looked at each and she shrugged. “Well I’ve had a lot of firsts lately, first I’ve gotten divorced, okay? I’m not exactly the most liked person on the planet, it was a pretty high-profile and nasty divorce, so I’m used to hearing complaints and little things whispered behind my back. Sometimes I think I have a microphone back there or something. And then most days I just think I’m making it up. But it does feel like since we are also building this project or rather Shannon and Marco are and I’m helping as much as I can, that due to the high profile nature of it, something has gotten triggered. And I don’t know what it is. But in addition to getting divorced for the first time in my life, I’m getting phone calls. I suppose next would be letters?”
Sheriff Jones inserted himself. “You say phone calls as in more than one?”
“Three. I’ve had three. Two last night and one this morning.”
“Mrs. Gambini,” the FBI liaison began, “Was there a progression in what was said between these three calls or did the person just say the same thing, and I ask this because sometimes kids, teenagers whatever, just to be malicious will take a clip or a recording and then play it and they’ll play it randomly to people.”
“No this was a live call. I know the difference.” Rebecca spat back.
I sensed her impatience.
The agent smiled and started over. “Okay, so you knew it was a live call because why?”
“Well I heard things in the background not in every call. Like I heard a train in one of the calls and it sounds like the train that goes down—it runs from Clearwater down to St. Pete, and I think it goes further?”
Both the sheriff and the FBI agent were making notes. “Go on,” she said.
“And then I heard a dog bark in one. Let’s see the first time he said, well he said it all three times, ‘You’re the pretty one.’ And at first I thought it was somebody I knew because it sounded like somebody I knew. One of my friends. I thought one of them was messing with me at first. But then, there was a lot of heavy breathing in the second call later. It was very late. Sounded like maybe he was—I don’t know.”
Rebecca was having difficulty saying what she was thinking. And all three of us knew what she was thinking.
“So you think perhaps he was doing something with or to his body?”
“Yes, perhaps. But I’m not sure. He just hung up the first time. The second time he said the same thing, followed by some really creepy heavy breathing.” She scrunched up her nose.
I felt the need to back her up. “I think you need to know that I interviewed Rebecca yesterday at the station, and it was about the Trident Towers that we’re building, and we were both on camera together. Perhaps this person thought that she was the better looking of the two of us, and I definitely think they’re probably right.”
“Oh stop, Shannon. We know that’s not true,” Rebecca said.
“No, I just I think it’s someone who watched the interview. That’s my point. It’s someone who’s fixated on her from that interview.”
“So Ms. Marr, have you been contacted by anybody?”
“Absolutely not. And my fiancé is away, so I’m keenly aware of all phone calls, since I want to hear from him. But no. In light of the bomb blast, we have been asked to check everybody’s ID at the office, changed our procedures completely, we even issued new badges for all the employees, and we notified our subs and some of our building contractors, that they’d have to make appointments, not just stop by. Those were all the recommendations I think your department gave us if I’m not mistaken.”
I was gratified to see that both the sheriff and the FBI agent were nodding their heads slowly.
“Can you tell me what’s happened with that bomb investigation?” I asked. “You know, it’s been three months now? I sometimes get a call or an update, but it seems lately there’s been nothing. Is the investigation still continuing or have you closed the case?”
The sheriff jumped in. “The case will never be closed, because there was the loss of life. Those cases never get shelved. Yes we have a small team on it, we’re still gathering more information. Due to the fact that so much of your building was destroyed, there are lots of little pieces of evidence that frankly I’m just not sure when we’re going to get through it all. But we are working on it Ms. Marr.”
“Again, I’d like to know why you think this is related.” The FBI agent asked Rebecca.
“Women’s intuition?”
The sheriff thanked us for the report and said he would take it into a department meeting and they’d decide how they were going to pursue it. “In the meantime, Mrs. Gambini, I would change your phone number.”
“Oh my God. I just can’t deal with that,” she said.
“Well ma’am, it’s a whole lot easier to change your phone number than to get rid of a stalker. If you were my wife, that’s exactly what I’d have you do. You could ignore my advice, but it’s at your own risk.”
Chapter 9
Marco
Even at 4:30 in the morning, Cape Verde was still noisy as hell. Lorries and delivery trucks were making their rounds before breakfast establishments opened and ships arrived as tourists began populating some of the establishments and beaches in the little towns that dotted the coastline. Civilian traffic was heavy. Our driver took us to the private charter hanger and helped us unload.
He called a couple of workmen in the building to give him an assist. One by one, all our bags were stowed in the belly of the small prop jet we were taking. I wished that we would have more room, but it was made to seat six with two pilots, so we would be tight, but okay. I was more worried about the weight of the bags.
I had managed to bring some sidearms and two long guns. Senator Campbell’s letter indicated that I was licensed by the State Department and his committee to be able to accompany and be armed while I was conducting a diplomatic mission. In a way, this was true. On top of all of that, if we were stopped or questioned, Carson’s credentials would certainly help us along.
Sven had paperwork showing him as an international aid worker, Riley was licensed to carry, and had dual citizenship, identification cards showing that he also worked for the Irish government as well as for the UN. So I was fairly sure that even in the event we were stopped, we would pass the smell test.
What did have me bothered though was that we had not heard a word from Karin or Paul or any of the others, other than the cryptic message I received. In discussing it with Carson this morning, he made the following comment. “It’s obviously from her, and she said to bring a Bible. That would tell me that they’re in some kind of a church or a Christian section of town. And that’s unusual, because Johnny Okubo doesn’t usually hang out in those areas. He hates Christians, church schools, priests. So I’m not quite sure what it means, but it could just be that they found some place that was suitable, having been at one time a church. I don’t know. But that’s my guess.”
“What do you think she means by make the wedding?” I asked.
“Perhaps it’s your wedding, Marco. Didn’t you say that you’ve set a date for next year? Do you suppose she’s referring to that?”
“But that’s in January, this is October.”
“Well you typically get married in churches. Maybe it’s not the wedding at all. Maybe it’s the timing, or has to do with how long they’re going to hold her. I will say though that I’m heartened that she appears to be alive.”
“Yes, I agree. Maybe it’s an arraignment in January?”
“Well we know the general vicinity, when her cellphone went off the grid, and I believe your guy Riley is trying to get information on what that location was in country. Once we have that, we’ll just take a look at the map and see if I can recognize something. There’s been so much destruction, Marco. I may not even know some of these little villages and communities. But I think that’s our biggest clue.”
By the time we were ready to touch down, we saw flares that had been lit in two rows on both sides of the runway. The pilots nosed down for the landing, and all of us looked out the windows, searching for something dangerous lurking in the brush. There was a lorry at the far end of the airstrip, that looked like a malfunctioning personnel carrier.
I had been trained to look at the tires. It didn’t matter how ugly or dented the vehicle looked like, if it had good tires and the engine at least started, it was a viable vehicle. And this one had decent tires. In fact, they looked almost brand new.
The co-pilot lowered the bridge door and we followed behind him, scrambling one by one down the stairway. He assisted us with some of our boxes. Out of the corner of my eye I saw the lorry begin to move toward us. I got out my pocket binoculars and looked to see who was driving.
“He’s African. It looks like he’s alone. One of your guys, Carson?”
“I don’t think so. I was never told about this.”
Our co-pilot asked us to continue working. I knew he was nervous about spending too much time on the ground, especially if there was an armored personnel carrier coming toward us. I caught Carson’s expression as he rolled his eyes.
Sven whispered in my ear, “One of us has to go approach. I think it should be me. You got my back?” Sven asked.
“Okay, but are you packing?”
“Always.” He patted the special pocket sewn at the rear, inside the waistband of his pants.
We continued moving the boxes into the shade while the co-pilot dashed back to the plane, retracted the stairway, and slammed the door shut. It began to turn and taxi in the opposite direction. The engines had never been cut.
Within seconds, the two were airborne once again.
Sven was waving his hand over his head shouting something to the driver. He walked at an angle so that his shooting arm was aligned with his side, so he could quickly remove his Sig behind him without drawing too much attention. A crack shot, it was guaranteed he could fire a round that would take the driver out.
None of us saw movement in the brush or heard any other vehicles, but we were all on alert as we finished stacking and sorting.
“No show of firepower, gents. We don’t show anything. We’re here doing research, and we’re waiting for somebody to pick us up.”
“Roger that, Marco,” muttered Riley.
Juan put his hand over his brows and stared at the lorry again. “I think perhaps he is a local. Does this airstrip get used by farmers or small business concerns?” he asked me.
“Carson? You know this area. This is close to the coordinates where State told me to insert. What do you say?”
“I don’t think any of the farmers here have the money for any airdrops unless it’s some kind of an emergency. Or a dignitary of some kind. But nobody like that would ride in that truck.” He said.
Sven was chatting incessantly, and I could tell he was nervous.
“He’s speaking Portuguese,” Carson whispered.
“I was just going to say that. But he speaks it with an African dialect,” added Juan.
Finally, we heard our forward scout say, “All right, all right. That’s good. You stay right there. Let me ask my colleagues.” Sven carefully turned, again shielding his shooting side. And walked with his angled body toward us.
Sven’s face was sweating already, bright red, dirty streaks of orange dust making lines along his hairline in front of his ears and down into his shirt collar. “He says that he was instructed to meet us at the airstrip. I asked him who gave the order and he said he was told to come. He said it was a gentleman from the big house, as he put it. What do you think?”
“I don’t know. I think maybe let’s find out where he’s going to take us and let’s make the motions at least that we’re loading up,” I instructed.
Sven motioned to the driver to come forward toward us.
All of a sudden, Carson grabbed my forearm, “Wait. He needs to check the back first. I want to make sure that it’s empty.”
“Sven, did you hear that?” I shouted back to him.
Disgusted, Sven angled his way back to the driver holding out both hands to the side as if he was surrendering. We could hear some of the conversation and then the driver stepped out of the van. He walked around to the back side and opened the doors. There were no windows in the back of the lorry, and I considered that to be a good thing since the windows in the front were all busted out. We saw Sven nod his head, and then come running back to us.
“It’s completely empty. I don’t see anything there that looks suspicious. Some old rags, just some tools, nothing. I honestly think he doesn’t know anything about this, he’s just sent to pick us up.”
“Where is he taking us to?” I asked.
“He said it’s a big house, just a few clicks down the road. He speaks Portuguese, but he’s African. He said that a house has been provided for us to stay. And there is a doctor waiting there for us, should we need it.”
Carson and I exchanged glances.
“Riley as soon as we can, I want you to ping. Here’s my phone. I want you to ping this number, and I want you to keep it on. That’s going to give a location to Senator Campbell’s office, and they’re going to make sure they position the satellites so that they can hone in on where we are.”
Riley grabbed the phone, pushed the button to deliver the call, and tucked it carefully in the deep pocket of his Flak vest. “We’re good to go now, sir. Let’s get these damn boxes out of the sun. My red hair and peachy complexion hate this weather.”
We were loaded, the driver not lifting a finger to help. Both Carson and I rode up front. Carson sat next to him and I rode in the junior seat behind. The rest of the men and the luggage, equipment, were in the back. I was hoping that Riley was able to get some kind of intel with his computer if he could connect the link to the satellite. But with the number of potholes and deep gouges in the red earth and trail, I had my doubts.
I turned to our driver and asked him if he lived nearby. It was a dumb question.
He looked at me and shook his head. He said something in a dialect I didn’t recognize, an African dialect, but it also sounded slightly Portuguese. He looked like he was scared as hell.
Carson gave me an explanation. “He doesn’t understand you. But I think the answer is yes. And even if he did understand you, he wouldn’t tell you. He’s a one and done and he’s being paid to keep quiet.”
“So who arranged the house?” I asked.
“I think your Senator is working on things behind the scenes. I’m not sure. It’s not something we do. But I’m glad. It means we can sort of disappear. We won’t be as exposed as we’d be in the jungle.”
“So when villagers or people see these types of planes come in and land and then turn around and take off, what do they think? I mean isn’t that a red flag?”
“It depends on what their job is. If they’re a lookout sure. But there’s so much going on between the drugs and the human trafficking, gun-running, most of the locals who aren’t involved in any of that stay as far away from it as possible. Out here, they’re exposed, there’s no big city or police force that will protect them, they’re on their own. And people who live out here know how to protect themselves. But they also know how to keep quiet. We’re just going to have to pray that God is looking favorably on our mission, Marco.”
We came to a fork in the road, and after several hundred yards crossed a small stream. The natural beauty of the land, devoid of bombed out buildings and broken-down vehicles was beautiful. It was lush and green unlike closer to the coast where the ground was more arid and desert-like. There were colorful birds calling back and forth, and the whole region looked like nobody had ever been there before, except for the obvious evidence of the road. It looked to me like the Garden of Eden.
