Orchid Blues, page 17
Doug came back with the boat, and they loaded it into the pickup.
"Eddie," Harry said, "you stay here and monitor the bug in the compound. Call us on the scrambled phone if anything important happens."
"Will do," Eddie replied.
"Let's get out of here," Holly said, and got into the truck.
47
Ham had dinner at the table with John and Peck. A pecking order seemed to have been established in the compound, and he figured, from the seating arrangements, that he was pretty near the top of it.
"Peck," John said, "you think you can find a bed for Ham in one of the houses?"
"Sure," Peck replied.
Ham raised a hand. "Listen, guys, I appreciate the thought, but I'm real comfortable in the bunkhouse. I've spent a big chunk of my life in barracks, and I like it." This was an outright lie. He'd spent as few nights in barracks as possible, and he didn't care if he ever spent another one there, but he had to be on the lakeshore when his people showed up with the phone, as he had no doubt they would do.
"Whatever you say, Ham," John replied. "As long as you're comfortable. If you change your mind, let me know."
"Okay," Ham said.
Harry, Holly and Doug, in the pickup truck, worked hard with the large-scale map and a flashlight to find a way to the eastern shore of Lake Winachobee. The dock didn't seem to have a real road leading to it, and they had been picking their way along overgrown lanes for more than two hours.
"The hell with the dock," Holly said. "It's after midnight, and we can launch the dinghy from the shore. I don't mind getting your feet wet."
"Thanks," Harry said.
"Just drive west until we end up in the lake," she said.
"I'm doing the best I can, Holly."
"There," she said, pointing to an opening that appeared in the headlight beams. "That track looks like a car might have once driven down it, and it's headed in the right direction."
Harry turned down it, and a deer ran across the road, nearly striking the truck. "That's all I need," he said.
Then the track opened into a clearing, and the starlight glinted on water.
"There!" Holly nearly shouted. "Douse the headlights."
Harry switched them off and stopped the truck. They sat and waited for their eyes to become accustomed to the darkness.
"Thank God there's no moon tonight," Harry said.
"Not yet, anyway," Doug replied. "We should have checked an almanac."
"Come on," Holly said, "let's get the boat into the water."
They got out and heaved the lightweight dinghy off the truck and to the lakeshore. Holly took off her shoes and rolled up her jeans. "Hand me the motor." She accepted it from Doug and clamped it to the stern of the dinghy. "You can handle the batteries," she said. "Put them side by side." She climbed into the dinghy.
Doug placed the batteries in the bottom of the boat and fixed the alligator clips to the terminals of one. "There you go," he said. "Are you sure you don't want company?"
"I can handle it alone."
"Look across there," Harry said, pointing. "The house with all the lights must be Peck's place. The barracks has to be farther along the shore to your left. I'd stay away from it, just use it as a landmark."
Harry suddenly grabbed at his belt. "My phone's ringing." He opened it. "Yeah?" He listened for a moment, then hung up. "Eddie says they've just broken up for the evening. The main house seems to be emptying out."
"How far do you reckon it is?" Holly asked.
"Three, maybe four miles, I'd guess. I think we're south of the putative dock."
Ham left Peck's house with four other men who were also quartered in the bunkhouse. None of them was over thirty, and they were talking excitedly about the group and their part in it. They reached the bunkhouse and began to unpack their things, placing their clothes in lockers. Ham took his time; he wanted them all asleep before him. With that in mind, he wrapped a towel around himself, went into the heads and took a long, hot shower.
When he came out, two of the boys were still talking quietly, but soon they drifted off, and the barracks was quiet. Ham checked his watch and waited for another hour before he made a move. He got silently out of bed, took a blanket and a pillow from the empty bunk next to his and walked quietly out the lakeside door. Once outside, he stopped and listened for a full two minutes to see if anyone was stirring inside the bunkhouse or outside. Hearing nothing, he made his way across a neatly trimmed lawn toward the lake. Once there, he stopped and listened again. His watch showed nearly half-past two in the morning.
Holly sat in the bottom of the dinghy, the motor humming quietly behind her, only her head and shoulders above the boat's gunwales. Peck's house had only one light now, and it appeared to be an outdoor lamp that stayed on all night. This was good, since it gave her a landmark. Then, as she made her way slowly across the lake, the moon began to rise, and this was not good. It was nearly three-quarters full, and it gave a lot more light than Holly needed or wanted. She reckoned she was a mile from shore now, and remembering that even small sounds carried across water, she switched off the little motor and let the boat drift. Then she made her way forward to the stem, knelt down and began paddling with an oar, using a J-stroke, the way she had been taught at Girl Scout camp, so that she wouldn't have to lift it from the water.
Ham hadn't noticed the motor until it was turned off, but when it went quiet, he knew what the sound had been. The moon was rising, and he didn't like that at all. He walked back to the bunkhouse and stuck his head inside the door. Four lumps lay inert in the bunks, one of them snoring softly. He went back to the lakeshore and, bothered by the moon, lay down on the blanket. He didn't want to be spotted in the moonlight.
Holly could see the dark outline of the bunkhouse, and she made for it, resisting the urge to paddle faster. Then, as she approached the shore from fifty yards out, two things happened. Ham, who had apparently been lying down, stood up. Then a light went on in the bunkhouse.
48
Ham hunkered down under his blanket and pretended to be asleep. The light had alarmed him; he didn't know who might be behind him. Then he heard a screen door shut and someone walking across the lawn toward him.
"Ham?"
"Huh?" he grunted. He turned over and found one of his four bunkhouse mates, a kid named Jimmy, standing over him. "What's up?" he asked sleepily.
"There's a boat out there, about fifty yards away," Jimmy said.
Ham sat up on an elbow and looked toward the dinghy, which appeared to be empty. "Just somebody's dinghy came untied," he said grumpily. "Why the hell did you wake me up? I came out here to get away from the snoring, and now I've got you making noise. And why is that light on in the bunkhouse?"
"Sorry, Ham, I didn't know you were sleeping." He started toward the edge of the water. "I'm going to swim out there and check out that boat."
"Hold it right there," Ham said, and he brought authority into his voice.
Jimmy stopped, turned and looked at him.
"You have any idea what the cottonmouth moccasin count is in that lake? There must be thousands, and don't even think about the alligators. They feed at night, you know."
"I didn't think of that," Jimmy said uncertainly.
"You get your ass back into that bunkhouse and into bed, and don't you fucking wake me up again."
"I'm sorry, Ham, I-"
"Just get back in there. If the boat is still there in the morning, I'll check it out."
"Okay, if you say so. Good night."
"It better be."
Jimmy walked back to the bunkhouse, switched off the light and, apparently, went back to bed.
Ham lay on his side, staring at the boat. He lay that way for better than half an hour, then he saw a movement in the boat, and a figure sat up. There, in the moonlight, was Holly.
"Oh, shit," Ham said aloud.
Holly was on one of the boat's seats now.
Ham stood up and waved her off. "Get out of here," he whispered loudly. "Go on, get out." He hoped his voice would carry over the water. Then he saw her arm go back, and she threw something. It arced high, then fell into the water, about ten yards out. Ham immediately marked the spot, taking a reference line from the corner of the bunkhouse through the spot where he stood. He bent down, found a good-sized rock and marked his position with it.
"Get out of here," he whispered hoarsely, waving her off.
She moved forward in the dinghy again, keeping low, and slowly, the dinghy turned and started moving toward the eastern shore of the lake.
Ham lay down again and pulled the blanket over himself.
When he woke up, the sun was rising and he was sore all over. It had been a long time since he had slept on the ground, and it didn't agree with his aging bones. He stood up and looked out at the lake. The dinghy was gone, to his relief, and a northerly breeze had sprung up. He heard a door behind him slam.
"You awake?" Jimmy called out.
"Yeah."
Jimmy came down to the water's edge and stood beside Ham. "What happened to the dinghy?"
"A breeze came up during the night," Ham replied. "I guess it blew away."
"Was there anything fishy about it?"
"Nah, it was just an empty dinghy. Somebody didn't tie it up good, I guess."
"I guess. You want some breakfast?"
"In a minute; I'm just enjoying the sunrise." Jimmy left him there, and Ham kept looking out at the lake. He saw Holly paddle away.
Holly and Harry stopped at a roadside restaurant west of Orchid Beach and were having breakfast.
"How the hell is Ham going to get the phone, if you threw it in the lake?" Harry asked.
"I didn't throw it in the lake on purpose, Harry," Holly replied. "I was in an awkward position in the dinghy, and it didn't go as far as it was supposed to. Don't worry, Ham will get it. I saw him mark the position, and it won't be hard to find. The water's probably only three or four feet deep there."
"You almost got your ass caught, didn't you?"
"No, I didn't. Somebody in the barracks woke up and came outside. Ham dealt with it. I waited until he was back inside for half an hour before I got out of there. And the wind helped me get back."
"You know how much that telephone cost?" Harry demanded.
"No, and neither do you, Harry. Now get off my back and eat your breakfast."
Harry took out his new, scrambled cell phone and called the house. "What's up?" he asked, when Eddie answered.
"Nothing all night. I guess they slept soundly. There are people in the house now, so I guess they're having breakfast."
"We'll be back in an hour or so." Harry punched off and hinted to Holly. "You're sure the phone won't get wet?"
"Harry, it was in a sealed plastic bag. Now shut up about it and eat your breakfast."
"I don't suppose you thought to check the signal strength on the phone."
"I did, and it was dodgy-only two bars on the display."
Harry opened his cell phone again, called his office in Miami and ordered that a portable cell be set up as near as possible to the north shore of Lake Winachobee.
Holly felt awful about throwing the phone short, but she wasn't about to let Harry know it. She hoped to hell Ham could recover it.
49
Ham stood at one end of the airstrip and watched through the sights of the Barrett's rifle as a jeep towed a nearly wrecked car across the opposite end, four thousand feet away. The car was moving at about twenty miles an hour, he reckoned.
He led the car a yard and squeezed off the round. A large hole appeared in a rear door of the car. "Do it again," he said to Peck, who was standing beside him. "And I want to know how fast he's moving."
Peck spoke his instructions into a handheld radio, then he turned to Ham. "He says he was doing about fifteen miles an hour."
"Tell him to speed it up to twenty-five this time," Ham replied. "Nobody drives that slow on purpose."
Peck relayed the instructions, and the jeep turned around and started another pass, this time faster.
Ham fired again, and the glass in the front passenger door shattered.
"Right on!" Peck yelled.
"Yeah, but do you want me to hit the driver?"
"No, we want the rear-seat passengers."
"Of course, the explosive round will take out pretty much everybody in the car."
"Still, I'd like you to be able to hit the rear-door window every time," Peck said.
"Turn him around, and maintain that speed."
Ham fired the big rifle until they had to stop and let the barrel cool off.
At lunchtime. Ham was sitting with Peck when John came into the dining room.
"Productive morning?" Peck asked.
"Pretty good," John replied. He produced a cell phone and switched it on. "Tell me something," he said, "what kind of cell phone signal strength do you get out here?"
"Pretty poor," Peck said. "Sometimes you have to try half a dozen times to get a call through."
"Interesting," John said. He held up his cell phone for Peck to see. Ham saw it, too-there were five bars of signal strength showing in the display. "You know anything about cell phone improvements out here?"
"Haven't heard a thing," Peck said. "I tried to use mine a couple of days ago, and I couldn't get a call out."
"There's nothing much out here that would cause them to install a new cell, is there?"
"Not that I can think of. We're about it for twenty miles or so. Are you worried about this, John?"
"I'm not sure whether to be worried," he replied. "But I've never experienced a sudden improvement in cell phone service. I've experienced worse service many times, but never better service. If you were going to install a cell out here, where would you put it?"
"On top of something, I guess. A water tower, a church steeple, a microwave tower. The terrain is flat as a pancake for miles."
"Is there any installation like that around here?"
"No, that sort of thing is usually around I-95, to the east, or the Florida Turnpike, to the west."
"Let's take a drive," John said.
"Okay."
"Ham, why don't you join us? You're an observant fellow."
"Sure." Ham drank the last of his iced tea and followed them to a car outside. Peck drove, John took the shotgun seat and Ham sat in back.
"Take a right and drive to I-95, then turn around and come back," John said. He held his cell phone up, so that Ham could see it, too. They reached the highway and Peck turned right. "Strong signal all the way to the main road," John said.
Ham watched the cell phone display and wondered what the hell was going on.
They drove east for a few miles, then John spoke again. "Signal's dropping. We're down to two bars." A couple of minutes later: "Up to three bars, now four." Ham could see I-95 ahead. "Five bars. Turn the car around."
Peck made a U-turn and the same phenomenon occurred. "Drive right past our turn," John said, watching the phone. "Five bars at our turn," he said. A few miles later: "Signal's dropping-three, now two. The no-signal light is on. Turn around."
Peck made another U-turn.
"Ham," John said, "did you notice anything unusual along our route?"
"There was a power company van pulled over a few miles back, and a man up a pole, but I don't know if you'd call that unusual."
"Normally, not," John said, "but I wonder why the hell we're suddenly getting such good cell phone service out here. There's the power company van, Peck. Slow down as we go by."
The car drove slowly past the van, and everybody had a good look.
"One man up the pole," Ham said. "The van doors were closed."
"You want me to turn in to our road?"
"Yes," John said. He watched his cell phone signal all the way to Peck's house. "Peck," he said as they pulled to a stop, "anybody you know of have a cell phone out here?"
"I asked everybody," Peck said, "and I collected a dozen, including Ham's. Why?"
"Because I wonder if somebody has a phone we don't know about, and if somebody else has suddenly improved service in the area just so he can make a few calls."
"You want me to conduct a search of the whole compound?"
"No. If there's a phone here, I doubt if we'd find it. I want someone to monitor a scanner on the cell phone frequencies, though. We just might pick up something." He turned to Ham. "I understand there was a boat near the bunkhouse last night."
"Yes, there was," Ham said. "I went outside to sleep, because a snorer was keeping me awake; Jimmy woke me up in the middle of the night and pointed out the boat. It appeared to be an empty dinghy that someone hadn't tied up right."
"You really think it was empty?"
"I watched it for a good half an hour while I was trying to get back to sleep, and it never moved in the water. Later on, a breeze came up from the north, and it must have blown back where it came from."
"I see."
"I don't know how big a cell phone transmitter is, but I wouldn't think you could get one into a small dinghy."
"You're right," John said. "The dinghy must have been a coincidence. I don't think the signal strength is an accident, though. I want a twenty-four-hour watch on the scanner, Peck, and I want somebody to drive past that power company truck every hour. I want to see how long it stays there."
Ham wondered if this had something to do with the cell phone delivered to him, the one lying on the bottom of Lake Winachobee.
50
Holly left work, went home, walked Daisy, then went to Harry's place. Everybody was looking glum.
"What's going on?" she asked. "Have you heard from Ham?"
"No," Harry said, "not by phone or bug. There's been a lot of activity in Peck's study, but nothing was said that would give us any more information about what's going on out there."
"I wonder why Ham hasn't retrieved the phone yet?"
"There's something else," Harry said.
"What?"
"While my van was out there working to set up the portable cell, a car drove past twice, with three men in it. My people got a photograph through a window in the van." He shoved a color print across the table.
