Two Peasants and a President (16 page)

It didn’t take long to decide that Brett was the man for
the job.  No
r
mally brash anyway; you do
n’t be
come a Navy Seal by being timid;
he could be a hard man to say no to.  And his Alabama drawl could be maddeningly obtuse, especially when he wanted it to be. 

Early the next morning Richard followed Brett and Maggie at a di
s
tance.  When they neared the dock where the junks were moored, he sep
a
rated and took up his observation post.  Maggie then parted with Brett and found a spot to sit and admire the harbor, while also keeping an eye on what Brett was doing.  If he found himself in any trouble he couldn’t handle, which was rare, Maggie had the option to scream bloody murder in order to attract as much attention as possible, assuming that was appropriate.  For backup, Jim had arrived separately and was nearby. 

Brett walked past the cruise office, which was still closed at this hour.  Then he strolled out onto the pier and toward the junk where he’d spoken to the sailor the day before yesterday.  Everything was quiet. 
Nobody home
, he thought.  A rope had been draped across the gangplank leading up to the junk.  Brett unhooked it and started up, taking care to walk quietly.

When he was on the deck, he paused to look around.  It was clear that this had been a working junk at
one time; the renovations didn’
t completely conceal that, by design in all likelihood.  It had a certain charm, like an old sailing ship from out of the pages of history, but with a distinct Far Eastern flavor.  The
re
was a large rectangular room on deck.  The door was unlocked and he went inside.  A large dining table took up much of the room.  Aside from items commo
n to a dining room, there wasn’
t much else to see.  He stepped outside and moved slowly toward the bow.  Then he heard the u
n
mistakable sound of feet mounting wooded steps quickly from below deck.

A tall
Chinese sailor appeared around the corner.  Brett was surprised to see that the Chinaman was almost as tall as he. 

“No tours now, please come back later,” he said calmly. 

Brett flashed him his big southern smile. 

“
Mornin
’,” he said.  “Nice boat y’all have here.  How many does she accommodate?”

The sailor seemed only temporarily disarmed by Brett’s attempt at charm. 

“Thank you, but we’re closed now.  You buy tickets at office over there.  Open 9:30.”

“Ya know, I always hankered to see one of these close up,” Brett co
n
tinued as if the man had said nothing.  “When we
wuz
young
uns
, there was a book
‘
bout a boat like
this’n
.  Y’all mind if I take a gander?”  Without waiting for an answer, Brett strolled into the wheel house.  His unwitting host was momentarily nonplussed, but he quickly recovered, following Brett into a space where modern navigation instruments seemed starkly out of place.

“Excuse me, but we are closed now,” he repeated.

“Y’all still use the sails?” Brett asked.  “Or you have engines, too?”

“Both,” the sailor answered.  “You must leave now,” he said, sounding more determined.

“Ya know,” Brett drawled, slowly this time, looking the sailor in the eye.  “I’m
startin
’
tuh
git
the idea that ya’ll don’t want me
tuh
take one of
yer
cruises.” 
Abuptly
the friendly expression drained from the man’s face as his eyes lit up in surprise.  He reached for his cell phone, but Brett grabbed his arm, closing the wheelhouse door with his knee at the same time. 

“Didn’t anybody ever tell you it’s rude to use the phone when som
e
one’s talking to you?”  The slow drawl was now replaced by a deadly serious, clipped tone.  The man jerked his arm away. 

S
uddenly a high kick whizzed less than an inch if front of Brett’s nose. 
This guy is fast,
Brett thought as he blocked a right cross.  Before the sailor could launch another, Brett had his fingers laced behind the sailor’s head and jerked it down viciously, where his face met a knee that laid him out.  Blood gushed from his nose as Brett leaned down to look him in the eye again. 

“Do I look familiar to you, mister?” Brett spat out.  The sailor moved his head back and forth, blood streaming down his chin.

“Wrong answer!” said Brett through clenched teeth.  A second later the sailor found himself locked in an arm bar, moaning in pain. 

“I’m gonna ask you one more time. 
Do
I
look
familiar
?” he spat out each word slowly.  “Wrong answer and I break your arm.” 

Brett hoped the man wouldn’t pass out as he applied more pressure, enough to dangerously stress the elbow joint.  The man groaned, but said nothing.  Suddenly the arm bent unnaturally and the man cried out.

“Now I’m gonna break the other one, pal.”

“OK, OK,” the sailor said, to stop the pain. 

“Talk to me,” Brett said gravely. “What happened to them?”

“I don’t know,” said the man.  “Wait, wait!” he added as he felt the pressure being applied to his other arm. 

“We take them out.  Other boat take them somewhere else.  All I know, all I know,” he pleaded. 

“What kind of other boat?”  Brett pressed,
torquing
the other arm.  The man started to moan. 

“Police boat,” the sailor finally yelped in submission. 

Brett was stunned.  Everything had just changed.  He grabbed the sailor’s cell phone and stood up, scanning the bridge.  Spotting the boat’s radio, he jerked out the microphone cord.  Looking down at the prone sailor, he said:

“This is for Ray and Holly, asshole,” he said, launching a savage kick at the sailor’s head, leaving him unconscious.  Then he quickly tied his hands with the microphone cord and turned to leave. 

Walking down the gangplank, he replaced the rope and turned to drop the sailor’s cell phone into the water, noting that apparently no one had shown up for work yet.  The closed sign still hung in the door of the cruise office. 

He gave a pre-arranged signal with his hand that it was time to saddle up, but not at full tilt.  Maggie, Jim and Richard each calmly put away their cameras and walked slowly away from their respective perches.  In less than a minute they had all melted into the crowds on the street fronting the pier. 

******

Because of the increased potential for the unexpected this morning, Richard had decided that they would all meet afterward at a large, crowded restaurant once each had ensured that he or she was not being followed. 

“What happened down there, son?” Richard asked.  Brett grimly r
e
trieved the micro recorder from his pocket and, after looking at Maggie and then Sally, pressed play.  Leaning forward to catch the words, their expre
s
sions mirrored Brett’s transition from good ole boy to brutal interrogator.  When the recording stopped, Sally breathed:

“Oh, my God!”

Brett had provided precisely the bold action of which the captain had spoken.  Without it they would not have learned what happened to Ray and Holly.  But with his customary decisiveness, Brett had also unleashed chaos.  Now they had to formulate new plans, and they had precious little time.  
Remind me to never send Brett with a gentle hint,
Richard thought to himself.  Then he began to process possibilities as quickly as they came.  Finally he
said:

“It’s hard to conceive that the Chinese government, or even the police force as a whole
,
is part of this.  I’ve got to believe that these are rogue elements, but we’re in n
o position to find out now.  We must
assume that if they’re cops, they have access to travelers’ names and itineraries.  Once they start moving at computer speed, the name Walker and the name of your hotel will quickly fall into place.  If you’re still there fifteen minutes later . . .
”

“Brett and Maggie, I suggest that you stop for the briefest moment at your hotel to pick up just enough luggage to look kosher.  Tell the front desk that there’s been a death in the family and you’re checking out early.  Head for the airport and tell them the same story there.  Find the first flight out and get on it, even if you have to pay first class.  Let’s just pray that you’re in the air before the electrons catch up with you.” 

“Jim and Sally, do the same.  I’m concerned that Holly
may have
had to give her maiden name in the entry documents.  It may take a little longer, but eventually they’ll be looking for you too.”

“What about you, Dad?
”
Sally asked. 

“I’m going to stay here.  Someone needs to work on things from this side.  I’ve made a friend at the consulate and I’m going to have to hope that he’s good for his word.  Now hurry.”

Sally was about to object when her father raised his arm, signaling that the conversation was over.  She threw her arms around him.  “I love you, Dad.  Jim and Brett each looked him in the eye and said “Later,” not knowing if there would be one. 

******

Richard took a cab to the consulate, hoping his friend would be there.  He was in luck once again.  After a few minutes wait, commander Moore appeared in the waiting area and motioned him to come in. 

“From the look on your face, Captain, it hasn’t been a good morning,” he said with a sincerely concerned look.

“That would be an understatement, Commander,” replied Richard. 

When they were in the commander’s office with the door closed, Richard recounted the morning’s events.  When the commander balked at the assertion that the captain’s granddaughter had been kidnapped by someone from the Hong Kong Police Department, Richard pulled the micro recorder from his pocket and pressed play.  Minutes later
t
he
commander
sat stunned. 

“Captain, I’ll level with you,”
he said.  “From time to time we
hear rumors of missing persons, probably not much different from any large city. 
But no one I know has ever spoken of anything like this.”

“Commander, there are two reasons I came here this morning.  First, I wanted to make sure that if my family is picked up before they can get on a plane, that you know that this is real.  Second, I’m here to ask for your help.”

The commander leaned back in his chair, lacing his hands behind his neck.  The deep furrows in his brow mirrored the dilemma that he faced.

“Commander, I know what you’re thinking.  A wrong move and your career could be scuttled.  Please believe me when I say that I understand and care deeply about what you’ve invested in getting this far.  But we’re talking about the lives of two young people.  Some sons of bitches out there are so cynical and evil that they would snuff those young lives in an instant if they thought it was in their interest.  We’ve got to get to them first.”  He leaned forward and
looked the commander in the eye.

“Yesterday you told me you have children.  What if they were out there somewhere?”
 

29

As he finished his toast, Baines penned a note to Molly telling her to help herself to whatever she could find in the fridge.  Then he remembered to jot down that Doris, the cleaning lady, would be here later and that she had a key.  Though he had not touched Molly once since she had arrived at his home, knowing that she now slept only yards away felt in some strange way very romantic.  As the big Lincoln pulled out of the d
rive almost an hour earlier than
usual, Baines turned his thoughts from Molly to the coming battle on the hill. 

Molly awakened just as the Lincoln pulled out.  She had hoped to have breakfast with Virgil, but he had risen very early.  She tiptoed down to the kitchen wrapped in a bath towel and found the note.  Preferring not to meet the maid in a towel, she decided to take a bath before breakfast.

A little while later, Doris let herself in, announcing as was her custom: “It’s Doris.”  She had always done this, first because the Senator was a man and second because he occasionally had a lady friend with him.  She turned to close the front door and suddenly found herself being propelled backwards into the banister at the base of the stairs leading up to the second floor.  She put her hands out in a futile effort to protect herself from the heavily built man who was already on top of her, but before she could even cry out, a searing pain in her throat cut short her voice and soon after, her life.  Her hands slowly sank to the floor beside her in a growing pool of her own blood. 

Baines
was scarcely two miles away when
his cell phone rang.  He was not surprised; even on a typical morning the hill often came to him rather than wait for his arrival.