Home Goes The Warrior (24 page)

Bill nodded. “Sounds good. I’ve got just the thing for them in the car.” Handing the pistol to Lee, he went to his car and came back with two pairs of handcuffs. He saw Lee’s look of disbelief and laughed aloud. “Nothing says you can’t borrow a good idea from the other side. I always knew these ‘d come in handy someday.”

Carefully staying out of Lee’s line of fire, Bill made short work of snapping the handcuffs onto the two man. While he was doing that, Lee was deciding on a plan of action. Alive, these two might be able to give the FBI some valuable information. But Lee wasn’t sure who he could trust in the base police, or even the Philadelphia police, for that matter. He needed to get them off the base and into FBI custody somehow.

“Bill, I’m afraid that I’m going to have to ask another favor of you.” The big man grunted his assent. “I need to get these guys off the base without anyone knowing that we’ve done it. Can we use your car?”

Another grunt, then, “Yeah, no problem, and I know a place we can stash them if we need to do that.”

“You’re good, Bill. I see why Tony sent you.”

Big Bill just smiled, almost shyly accepting the compliment.

Bill walked over to his car and opened the trunk. Then, with absolutely no fanfare, he picked up first one, then the other, of the would-be assassins and tossed them into the trunk. One of them tried to protest, and Bill gently clasped him by the throat, saying, “My friend, if I hear a sound out of either of you before I let you out, I’ll just start shooting into the trunk. I’m sure you’ll eventually die if I shoot enough. But it will be a bit painful while you wait for that one good shot. Now, are you going to be quiet or do I have to make you quiet?” The two men assured him that they would do whatever he asked. He closed the trunk lid and turned, grinning hugely, to Lee. “Okay Lieutenant, let’s go.”

They stopped at the BOQ, where Lee rapidly threw on some jeans and a shirt, being careful to get his ankle holster and pistol this time. He made a fast telephone call to his FBI friend, Tom Wright. Then he followed Bill’s car out the main gate and into Philadelphia. The two cars drove a short distance before turning into the sports complex, where they parked in a deserted parking lot that was hidden from view by a huge sports arena.

Bill got the two out of the trunk and brought them to Lee’s car. He then handcuffed them to some stout pipes running down the sides of the arena and gave the handcuff key to Lee. They shook hands and Bill drove away. He had no intention of waiting for the FBI to arrive.

It didn’t take long. Within a half-hour, two men in suits pulled up to the car in a van. They introduced themselves as FBI agents from the Philadelphia office and told Lee that they had orders to deliver the two prisoners to FBI headquarters in Washington, D.C. Lee turned the two men over to them and watched them leave.

Well, they obviously know I’m here, whoever they are.
Grasping his aching ribs, he shivered at the thought.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN - TERMINATION INITIATED

ee watched the FBI van as it headed for the I-95 on-ramp adjacent to the sports complex. When it was out of sight, he drove back to the BOQ to change into his uniform. But, as his adrenaline level dropped and his excitement faded, he began to realize how badly he was hurting. Arriving at his room, he collapsed into a nearby chair and stayed there for several long minutes. He was having trouble breathing because of a sharp stabbing pain in his rib cage where the bat had done its work. It seemed like he was aching all over his body.

Taking short, shallow breaths to minimize the pain, he rose and slowly peeled off his shirt in front of a mirror to assess the damage. It didn’t look good. He had a solid purple line, about two inches wide, across his belly where the baseball bat had done its work. Turning, he could see bruises starting to rise on his back where his assailants’ fists had hammered on him. He wasn’t too concerned about the bruises on his back, but the pain when he breathed worried him. Looking at the mess that the mirror had revealed, he softly muttered, “I guess discretion is the better part of valor. Time to go see a doctor.” Slowly he got out of his jeans and donned a khaki uniform. He called Jane to let her know that he was going to be a little late, and then he slowly made his way to his car and headed for the Naval hospital.

The doctor was not particularly sympathetic. He’d seen his share of Navy people who’d been in fights and this one didn’t look any different, except for the old scars that were scattered across the patient’s upper
chest. “I don’t know what the hell you are thinking about, Lieutenant. Fighting isn’t ever a good idea, but for you to take a chance like this is suicidal. If the thing that hit you had been a little higher, we’d be fitting you for a coffin right now. Someone did a fine job patching you up, but you’re endangering all of that good work with this crap. You should know better!”

Lee didn’t try to correct him.

The X-rays confirmed that he had two cracked ribs and several bad bruises. The doctor wrapped his ribs and gave him some painkillers. By the time Lee left the hospital, he was able to move and breathe more easily.

Lee arrived at the office just as the weekly work progress meeting was starting. Jane took one look at him when he came through the door and, in her most piercing voice, demanded to know what was wrong. “What the hell happened to you? You look awful!”

Lee just smiled at her. “Nothing, Jane. No big deal. I just took a fall in the tub in my BOQ room. Cracked a couple of ribs. Nothing that will stop me from keeping all of you on your toes.” He added the last sentence as the managers, alerted by Jane’s shrill query, came to the door of the conference room to see what had caused her excitement. “Go back to the meeting, Guys. I’ll be there in a minute.”

The meeting was routine and Lee got through it without any problems. When he finished, he returned to his office. As he walked through the reception area, Jane passed him a telephone message. It was from “Cousin Tom,” asking him to call back.

Lee took the message into his office, softly closing the door behind him. As soon as he was seated, he returned Tom Wright’s call. The voice on the other end answered immediately. “FBI headquarters, Agent Wright speaking.” Tom was obviously waiting for his call.

“Yo, Tom. Lee here, returning your call. What’s new?”

But Wright obviously wasn’t in the mood for congeniality or small talk. “I got your package. We’ve put them in solitary at the Marine Corps brig in Quantico. They’re not saying anything so far, but I’m headed down there shortly. By the time I’m done with them, they’ll be singing like birds. But that’s not why I called. My transportation committee told me that you were not looking so good when they picked
up the package. How are you? And what happened? How in hell did you manage to capture two big thugs like those two? This thing has my entire chain of command asking questions and I don’t have any answers.” Lee laughed and told him the story of his morning jog and its exciting conclusion. He omitted nothing and just kept telling the story, even when Tom tried to ask questions.

“Just hold on. When I’m done you can ask me the details.” Finally, he got to the point where the van had picked up the two men and he stopped. “Okay, now you can ask those questions.”

But there was only silence on the telephone. After a moment with no comments, Lee asked, “Tom, are you still there?”

Tom finally came out of it with, “Yeah. Just trying to digest all of this. You’re saying that Big Tony has had a tail on you? Why?”

It was Lee’s turn to hesitate. “I don’t know, Tom. As soon as I get a chance, I’ll call him and find out. I have to assume that he was worried about something. He probably knows more than we do about all this stuff. They say that he’s got eyes everywhere around Philly.”

Again Tom was quiet for a moment. “Well, find out if you can. But it’s not really a big thing. The important thing is that it worked in our favor. You’re still alive, and now we have two of them under lock and key.” Tom paused again. He was obviously thinking his way through all of this as he was talking. “Even more important, this tells us two things that we didn’t know for sure before today. First, there really is something bad going on in that shipyard. Second, we now know for sure that the crooks aren’t working for, or with, Tony Bruno and the mob. That’s a lot of information we didn’t have yesterday. Good work.”

Lee said, “Thanks, but I’m not sure that I’ve really done much. I’ve been asking some questions, and I guess I must have made someone nervous. I do have a theory on our problem, but I don’t want to talk too much here. The walls could have ears. Besides, you’ll probably get a lot more than theories from those two idiots in Quantico.”

“I hope so, Lee. I’m heading there now. I’ll call when I get a chance and let you know what I learn.”

It was Lee’s turn to hesitate. “Tom, maybe we’d better talk about my theory. If I’m right, maybe it can help you when you interrogate those
two. I’m probably just being paranoid about talking here anyway. Do you want to hear my thoughts on this now, or would you rather wait?”

“Hell, give it to me. Anything I can do to appear smarter may help.”

“All right, here’s my thoughts. I think there’s a fairly large ring of people here that are fixing it so the Navy has to pay for stuff that is never received. In other words, these people are placing orders for equipment and material that they don’t need, then claiming that these imaginary items are received so the Navy pays for them. I think the group is somehow centered around the shop planners, probably just in the machinery and electrical/electronic groups.”

At that point, Tom’s interrupted, his voice raised. “Whoa, whoa! Slow down. What’s a shop planner? What’re these ‘groups’ you’re talking about?””

Lee laughed. “Sorry, Tom. I forgot I wasn’t talking to a sailor. Let’s start with the groups. The shipyard’s production workers are divided by trade into huge working groups. Then the groups are further divided into shops. Within every shop is a person, or group of people, that are called the shop planners. It’s their job to manage work schedules and make sure that the repair material is pre-staged so it is ready when needed to perform work on the ships. You with me so far?”

“Yeah, I think so.”

“Okay, then. Here is where these shop planners become important to us. When the shipyard workers need additional material, equipment, or repair items for their work aboard ship, they ask the shop planners to get the items for them. The shop planners initiate the procurement of that material, sending paperwork over to the supply department who, in theory, determine the source of the material, order it, and receive it. But that is theory only for some of these guys. I’ve found out that some of the shop planners are actually telling the supply department where to buy the material and they’re also demanding that it be delivered directly to them, rather than to the supply warehouses. They’re doing this by claiming that they don’t have time to wait for the normal supply processes. Are you still with me?”

There was a pause as Tom mulled the information over. “Do you mean that these shop planner guys tell the Navy where to get the item,
and then the same guys are the ones who certify that the item is actually received? The same guy is ordering an item and then certifying its receipt? How does anyone know what is actually needed or received? Why wouldn’t the supply people get into the middle of this?”

“Tom, that’s a really good question. I think there have to be some supply people in on this. Probably a few planners as well. This isn’t a small operation, if I’m right.”

Again Tom had questions. “Is there enough money in these repair items to make it worthwhile to them?”

Lee chuckled at the naïveté of the question. “Tom, a simple radar klystron could bring them over a hundred thousand dollars. That’s just one repair part. Then there’s things like motor-generator sets, antenna drive motors, gun mount parts, propulsion machinery, and a thousand other expensive shipboard items. Yeah. This could be big bucks. But only in the machinery and electrical/electronic groups. The other groups deal with things like sheet-metal and paint. I don’t think there’s much money there. That’s why I zeroed in on those two groups.”

Tom was again silent for a time while he digested this information. Then he whistled softly. “My God, man. You may have broken this thing open. But why did these two guys jump you? Does anyone know that you’re looking at this?”

“I was out in the shops yesterday. I talked to shop planners in all of the shops I visited. I guess I wasn’t as subtle as I thought I was.”

“Got it. You take care up there. If they tried once, they may come back for seconds. Are you packing heat like I told you to?”

“Yes.”

“Good. I’ll call you back and let you know what I learn today at Quantico.”

“Okay Tom, but do me a favor. Call me after about 7 p.m. at the BOQ. I don’t completely trust this shipyard phone system.”

“You got it. Talk to you soon.” The two phones went silent.