CHAPTER
6: The Beans Ranch, Bringing a rocket launcher to a gun fight.
"Did
anybody get a hold of Doug" yelled Ron Smith. "Yes Ron, he's waiting
to speak with you" said Jane Keen. "Dougy, where are you, what the
fuck, where is Jack, what have you found out". "Hi boss, we are in
Garden Peninsula, Jack was here with his friends Annie G and Geno. They left
and sailed to Beaver island, there are defiantly some spooks on their trail,
they picked up some firepower and we are on our way there now".
"Good, call me when you find them". "Should we come back to D.C."?
"I don't know yet. I would
really like to get a handle on who is behind this shit. We are getting some
information and I have a pretty good idea of what's going on, but I really want
to get Jack's piece of the puzzle". "Ok boss, we'll find him and make
sure he's ok". "Yea, that too".
Doug
Matthies was a six foot seven inch, two hundred and sixty five blond hair, blue
eyed redneck. He had been a world cup down hill ski racer, competitive monster
truck driver, snowmobile racer, elk and mule deer hunting guide, salmon and
trout fishing guide and competed in the unlimited hydroplane circuit for three
seasons until he survived a six flip roll over at one hundred and eighty miles
pre hour disintegrating his hydro and giving him five broken bones, a ruptured
kidney, a couple holes in the lung and a broken nose. After a month and a half
in the hospital he checked himself out and proceeded to immerse himself in his
personally designed rehabilitation routine which mostly consisted of three
hours a day on the shooting range, two hours a day in the gym, driving a
monster truck to Sam's Club and back every day, and a diet of venison, Canadian
beer and Leelanau county wine. Doug had been an outdoor sportsman all his life
and had developed a deep resentment of all the powers that continued to pump
CO2 into the atmosphere despite all the evidence of extreme damage it was
doing. His love of speed, and machines that help one to achieve it had led him
to develop alternative fuels long before the first egghead visit. Doug had
degrees in physics and chemistry which came in handy when it came to developing
alternative fuels, however the best fuel supply turned out to be rather
unsophisticated. A highly refined, distilled alcohol made from corn turned out
to be the most efficient clean burning, easy to produce fuel with the added
side bonus of being great to drink and producing a great buzz. "The
Juice" as Doug's fuel was known, obviously became extremely popular among
the redneck monster truck crowd. It was a total trifecta; race winning power,
clean burning with minimal CO2 emission and a great drunk.....a real redneck
dream come true. The only real downside was that it was illegal, which placed
Doug in somewhat of an outlaw, renegade, hero status. Ron Smith had followed
Doug's antics for several years and figured this was a guy he needed on his
team, so when the ATF guys finally busted Doug for distilling and distributing
"moonshine" he posted his bail, arranged for his defense and offered
him a job. Doug was a great "man in the field", and occasionally
worked with Jack in DC but Ron tended to keep him out of Congressional offices
due to what Ron referred to as an extreme case of voluntary turrets syndrome.
Doug liked to swear ....a lot.
Doug
knew Jack pretty well and was no stranger to the woods and waters of northern
Michigan which made him well suited for the job of locating Jack.
Ron
and company knew that any sort of illegal conspiracy with billions of dollars
at stake wouldn't hesitate to kill whoever might get in their way. With that in
mind, Doug had selected a couple of EAG security guys to accompany him. EAG was
certainly not in the business of security or any kind of clandestine operations but did find the need for in house security
and had hired some badass dudes to fit the bill. Doug had asked for Max
Cunningham and Tom Rum.
Max
Cunningham was a total gun ho, all American, John Wane type. He was ex- Special
Forces and ex secret service. Max had been on the presidential detail during
the Santorum administration and tendered his resignation after the third year
of his term. He loved the service and had been a loyal agent for nine years but
his ability to muster the kind of unquestioning loyalty required to protect the
guy who he regarded as the biggest closed minded, moronic, dick head he had ever
known was disintegrating rapidly. Max simply found it untenable to continue to
put his life on the line for a guy he had absolutely no respect for, so he
quit. The problem with Max was that he had principals, and it is simply
difficult to be a mercenary with principals. It had been easy during his ten
years as a Navy SEAL; train, follow orders, and carry on comfortable in the
knowledge that the United States military is on the side of God. Of course
things had changed and now it was up to Max to figure out who the good (and
bad) guys were. Max was as straight laced as they come. He didn't smoke, drink
or do drugs and at forty two years old, he was in perfect physical condition. Max was not big on conversation and
totally lacked anything near what you would call a sense of humor. When he was
not on the job, his time was spent doing yoga, various marshal arts exercises,
lifting weights, practicing marksmanship with every conceivable kind of weapon,
reading and studying counter terrorism tactics, pyrotechnics, strategies of
warfare and every other possible subject pertaining to his profession. Jack,
Doug, and Tom blew Max an incredible amount of shit on a daily basis, and just
teased him relentlessly, which did little more than evoke an occasional look of
disapproval. They figured that somewhere inside him there must be some sense of
humor, but he never showed it. One thing was for certain; Max was the right guy
to have in your corner when the shit hit the fan!
The
other member of the EAG security team or "gun for hire" as Ron
referred to his security guys was Tom Rum. Tom was quite the opposite of Max
and generally made up for Max's lack of bad habits and them some. Tom was born
and raised in New Zealand and had been involved in just about every high adrenalin
adventure sport imaginable. He had started rock and ice climbing at age seven,
high alpine skiing with his dad at age five. He had graduated from hang
gliding, to para sailing, to BASE jumping, to suit flying and was regarded at
one time as one of the best in all fields that involved or defied gravity. Tom
was also an accomplished river kayaker, and a world class solo sailor. He had
sailed in four BOAC around the world alone Races and had come in first place
twice. To say Tom was a bit of a nut case and an adrenalin junky was a gross
understatement. Of course his particular skill set would normally not lend
itself to being part of a security detail what with the propensity to be a
"loose cannon", but Tom also possessed a very high intelligence and
incredible self discipline. He was skilled in mixed Marshall arts, had been in
the top of his class in marksman ship during his requisite four year stint in
the NZ military. Max was rather disapproving of Tom's attitude and lack of
professionalism when he first started working for EAG, however his opinion had
changed dramatically after a scrape they had while providing security for a
meeting of top level scientists and diplomats in Istanbul. Some radical Islamic
types from Saudi Arabia (who's disenfranchisement after petroleum became
useless had caused a really shitty and despite attitude) were basically lobbing
"hail Mary's" and planned a sloppy suicide attack on this high level
meeting. There had been no intelligence breach, and no indication what so ever
that any knowledge of this meeting had leaked. Max and Tom, were not taking
lead on security (that was the job of Turkish intelligence) but they were
assigned to keep an eye on things and provide back up security for the members
of the EAG in attendance. In the overall picture, Max might as well ware a sign
"I Am Security". He stood out like a hooker at a Bible convention,
Tom on the other hand could blend into his surroundings like a chameleon. He
spoke seven different languages and had an uncanny ability to nail whatever
dialect he was speaking just by listening to a few sentences. He also just had
that look of not being out of place no matter where it was. So when Max would
criticize Tom for going out drinking, and carousing, Tom would retort that he
was gathering necessary information in the line of duty
and that he had to get "the lay of the land" if he were to be
effective to which Max would retort "that is just a bullshit excuse for
going out and getting hammered and getting laid".
On
this the first evening of this assignment and after the hotel had been secured
and Turkish agents were in place (both Max and Tom had long since learned to
trust the Turkish security apparatus, recognizing their excellent organization
and general badassness) Tom and one of the senior Turkish intel guys named Ned,
which was not his real name, went out "on a little recon" as Tom put
it. After just one evening of going to the right places, doing the right
things, engaging in the right behavior, talking to the right people, asking the
right questions, and reacting with the right responses, Tom and Ned were able
to gather enough info to suspect a suicide attack in the works. This was along
with eating ossobuco, drinking mass quantities of a fine Turkish liqueur
distilled from opium poppies combining the pleasant effects of both highly
refined alcohol and opiates, smoking the finest Turkish hashish, and partaking
the pleasures of one of Istanbul's finest ladies of the night. "Funny what
you can uncover when you just go the seedy part of town and pursue some of
life's finer pleasures" was Tom's suggestion, of which Max would have no
part. The ultimate result of Tom's night of debauchery and intel gathering was
another two days of investigation and enough verifiable intelligence to place
Max, Tom, Nate, and two Turkish sharpshooters on rooftops with a secured kill
zone in a plaza which had been cleared of bystanders. At the appointed time
three young men appeared from the subway entrance wearing overcoats on a
particularly warm day. Infrared scamming, and super targeted electron impulse
explosive detection devices immediately indicated that all three men wore vests
with the equivalent explosive yield of fifty pounds of C4 each. "Shooters
Left"
whispered Tom, "shooters right" whispered Max, "middle man"
whispered Nate, follower by a command to his two back up shooters "you two
take out anything left standing.....got it"? "Got it" came the
reply back through his ear set. "Ok guys, on three...one...two...three
shots silenced by advanced grade silencers on their .308 caliber sniper rifles,
three holes in the center of each forehead, exiting out the rear of their
skulls and literally disintegrating the back half of each head. All three men
dropped to the ground simultaneously and other than a few pidgins taking
flight, the plaza was silent. "Good job Tom" Max said into his mic.
Tom knew that Max was a man of few words, and even fewer compliments, and
accepted this kudos as just about the highest complement Max could give. After
this event, Max took to trusting Tom and while still disapproving of his
methods, he did hold a high regard for his results.
If
there were ever a time when someone were in some trouble and needed protection,
short of being in the White House Anti Nuk bunker, Doug, Max , and Tom Rum
would be just about the best situation possible.
They
were on their way back to Escanaba to climb in the new "nitro king"
as the current nitrogen cell, ultra violet, rechargeable, Turbo assist, twin
engine, six passenger, Beechcraft King Air was called, and fly to Jame's field
on Beaver Island. Within thirty five minutes they had touched down and taxied
the pole barn which was used as a terminal. It was just after dawn and
waiting was Leo Gillespie who owned the only car rental on the island with a
twenty year old GMC Blazer. Doug had called and arranged for the car, "you
Leo" Doug asked. "That's me, you must be Doug" Leo answered.
"Here's your car". "Real piece of shit" Doug said.
"That it is, but it runs, and actually qualifies as one of the finer
automobiles on this island". "It is a thing of beauty" Doug
replied. "So Leo, here is the deal, we are looking for three people who we
think are on the Island; two guys and a chick, Jack Saffell and Geno Miller are
the guys, Annie Gallagher is the chick. Now I know you are not going to tell my
anything cause you don't know me from fucking Adam, but if you can tell Jack
that Dougy is here with Max and Tom and describe us to him, he will want to see
us right fucking now! Just tell him to call me, he knows how...we are at the
Beaver Island Lodge...got it"? "I'm not sure I know what you are
talking about" Leo said. "Right" said Doug. "Let's get this
gear loaded and head to the harbor" Doug said to Max and Tom. "And I
thought Garden Peninsula was my kind of place....this could take the fuckin
cake". "Yea if you like eating possum and boning your sister"
was Tom's comment. They loaded four black duffel bags into the Blazer and
headed north to St. James Harbor.
As
Jack and Annie G came into the kitchen Beans was on the phone. "Yea...yea
I'll tell him. You going to keep an eye on those guys? Have you heard from
Danny? Ok...good". "Who was that" Jack asked. "Leo, he said
he just dropped off a car to some guys at the Air Strip and they asked about
you. He said the guys name was Doug and to tell you he was here. He asked Leo
to describe him and his buddy's to you and that you would know who they were.
They are staying at the Beaver Island Lodge and want you to contact
him". "Well...describe them". "The guy doing the
talking...Doug...is a big guy, about six, seven, two hundred and fifty maybe
three hundred pounds. Blond hair, blue eyes and says fuck every other word.
There's a guy in a suit who looks like secret service or something, and a wiry
guy who talks like he's from Australia or something". "That's New
Zealand" Jack said. "What" said Beans. "New Zealand, he's
from New Zealand, and that's them, our EAG security dudes, total wackos, you'll
love um". "So you gonna contact them"? "Can't, I disabled
all my communication networks. I figured somebody might be able to hack my
system and use it to locate my position. That's why the boys back at EAG
headquarters are probably freaking out and haven't been able to find
me.....till now, I knew that Dougy was good, but I must say, I am
impressed". "Ok, I'll call Linda over at the lodge and tell her to
bring those guys over here". "Sounds good, now you got any coffee
brewing"? "Right here buddy boy, you want cream....Baileys perhaps"?
Don't mind if I do, where's Geno"? "Still. Crashed" answered
Beans. "You guys get into that Port stash you got in your wine
cellar"? "As a matter of fact we did. We were having a nightcap and
Geno was bringing me up to speed on your somewhat precarious situation. We had
just finished speculating on all the possibilities and what the cause and
effect might be when we spot a chopper coming in from the south, southwest. It
was a real sleek hi tech job the likes of which on one around here has ever
seen much less owned. Anyway, this chopper touches down way south near Rodger's
old cabin best I can figure and takes off again in about two minutes.
Definitely not your every night occurrence. I called Danny Gillespie and asked
if he and his brothers could go down there and check it out. Why would a chopper
touch down in the middle of the night unless to drop somebody
off.....right"? "Right" replied Jack "might be my buddy's
showed up right in the nick of time. Better call Linda". "On
it".
As
Doug and company pulled into Beaver Island Lodge they had already been to the
Harbor and noted the Leading Lady moored at the north end. She was all locked
up and it certainly appeared as though no one had been on board for
awhile, however Doug knew that Jack was stll on the Island or at least close
by. He also knew that his message would get to Jack in short order and all he
would have to do was wait. He was actually looking forward to hanging out on
the deck at the BI Lodge and savoring a couple Bloody Mary's, but alas, he knew
there was no time for that when he saw Linda out in front to meet them.
"Follow me" she said as she claimed in her truck and pulled back out
of the drive and onto the gravel road that led to the Kings Highway. Twenty
five minutes later they were pulling up at Beans compound. At just about the
same moment Danny Gillespie and Brothers Raul and Flying Bear pulled in. Jack,
Annie, and Beans came out to greet them. "Fuckin...ah...we been looking
all over the fuckin place for you asshole" were Doug's first words.
"Don't have to sugar coat it for me Dougy, just tell me how you really
feel". "Ok, dip shit, I'll rephrase. Jack, good to see you man, is
everything ok"? "Well, I gotta tell ya, it is really good to see you
guys right now. What started out as a little get away for me to go fishing,
sailing, drinking, and catching up on some sleep has turned into a bit of an
adventure. I mean, I really just thought I was just being paranoid, and then
thought, what the hell; I might as well use it as an excuse for a much needed
getaway. Then it turns out I'm being followed. Now it turns out that whoever is
doing the following has a Bell A Star Plus helicopter, they don't give those
away with a happy meal if you know what I mean. Beans and Geno spotted it coming in last night; land
for a couple minutes and fly away". Max was listening intensely and
surveying the surrounding land scape. Tom had stepped away and was doing the
same with his Nikon 12x 50 w/ infrared and GPS pin point sighting guidance
system. "I suggest you all head inside, we are all kind of like fish in a
barrel standing out here. Beautiful place you got here, by the way".
"Thanks" said Beans "let’s move this party inside". Max had
done all the preliminary set up, lay out and different defense strategies in
his head. He did not have to communicate them to Tom; they had been in the
business long enough together to just know what the other was thinking. Of
course Jack picked up on the vibe as well and felt a bit of adrenalin shoot
through his veins. As they moved toward the house Max said "The maximum
capacity for that machine is one thousand four hundred and fifty pounds, so we
could be looking at five guys with two hundred and fifty pounds of gear. It's
probably more like four with seventy five pounds of gear each, at least that's
how we would have deployed. I sure hope they're hacks but they could be well
trained. What's the surrounding landscape like"? "Pretty flat, the
ten acres you see cleared with occasional white pine, Doug fir and maple trees.
To the north is twenty five acres of ag with surrounding hardwood. South is
hard wood that turns into dunes to the west" answered Beans. "How
about the shore line"? "Pretty straight, a bit of a point to the
south about four miles down". "Any security". "Some surveillance
left over from the pot growing days when it was illegal. Haven’t had any of
those babies on in years". "Ok, good" Max looked at Tom.
"Got it" said Tom. Just as they were turning to head into the main
house they heard a truck make the last turn on the drive way. The drive was
full of "s curves" and surrounded by thick pine trees for its full
length of three miles. Beans had designed it that way to hide its presents,
discourage usage by curious tourists, and eliminate noise. The design worked as
intended since one could not hear (or see) an approaching car until it was
right in front of the house. "It's cool" beans yelled as Tom, and Max
were about to blow the approaching vehicle away. "It's Danny
Gillespie". The truck was only thirty feet away when it came into view
from a straight on angle. Trees continued to line the drive right up to a turn
around area only twenty feet between the main house, guest house and studio,
which was right where Jack, Annie G, Beans and Doug were standing. Just as
Danny's old Suburban pulled up in front of them and he slammed on the brakes,
they all heard a thump....more like a hammer pounding on metal. Tom who was
over in the pines turned around to see the driver side of the Suburban which
was now between him and the group. "Holy shit, we got incoming" he
shouted as he noticed three bullet holes in the side of the Suburban that
otherwise would have been right through the chests of Jack, Annie G , and Doug.
"Down, down, down" Max yelled. Danny rolled out of the passenger side
of the Suburban and scurried over to the group which had crawled over behind a
bolder by the edge of the walkway. Max had already made it to the back of their
rented Blazer, grabbed two duffels thrown one to Doug and pulled out an M4. Tom
already had his gear and was working his way east in the pine cover. Doug and
Max both sighted their weapons toward the general direction of the shots only to receive two more incoming shots
which sent them back behind their respective cover. Max called up Tom and
Doug's personal communication frequency, "Hey Tom, you got um"? “Yep,
I got um" said Tom. "Do you think they know you're there" Doug
asked. "Don't think so, those three shots were for you guys and they would
have hit the mark if it weren't for that crazy fucker who pulled in in that
Suburban". "They just let two more go at Max and me" Doug said
"we are both pinned; I'm behind the bolder with Jack, Annie, and Beans.
Max is pinned behind our Blazer with Danny". "Just keep them shooting
at you for a second and let me get set up" said Tom. "What you got in
mind". "I think I'll teach those fuckers not to bring a gun to a
missile fight..... Ask beans if there is any chance of friendlies or anything
else I should know about over on that ridge line where the shots are coming
from". "Beans says go for it dude" Doug replied. No sooner has
Doug spoken than a mini laser guided sidewinder missile came whistling from the
pines and struck the area where the shots had come from. The blast encompassed
an area about one hundred feet in diameter with an incendiary explosion that
pretty much melted everything in the bast zone and was over in less than two
seconds. "That outta teach those mother fuckers" announced Doug. Max
was in position with his M4 trained on the target area and surveying the area
with his 14x scope. "I think you melted them" he said to Tom.
"Yea looks like they didn't get outta there quick enough". They both
knew that standard protocol would dictate evacuation your position in pretty
short order if your target was dug in and not likely to expose himself again.
Long evolved shoot outs were the stuff of movies but not real life assignation
attempts. "They were probably packing up to beg out, that's why I didn't
want to waist any time melting the fuck sticks". "You did ok"
was Max's only comment. "You know, if you're right about there being four
or five then, than there are still one or two out there, 'cuse I pretty sure I
only smoked three". "Ok, here is the call, Dougy, you get everybody
inside and get your gear ready, Tom and I will go on a recon. I will take right
flank to the west, Tom you take left and stay in the pines. Does Beans have any
weapons"? Jack had left the small arsenal that Shirley had given them on
board the boat except for the two sawed off shotguns Geno had stacked in his
duffle, but Beans was a hunter and possessed a gun room with every conceivable
make of sporting rifle. "Yea, I think we're set on guns" Answered
Doug. Beans looked at Doug and said "tell Max to take Danny with
him". Doug was about to ask why, but immediately realized that Danny, even
though not formally trained in this sort of thing probably knew every inch of
the surrounding terrain and that alone would make him an invaluable asset in a
manhunt. It also dawned on him that Danny was a full blood Algonquin Indian and
he was astute enough to recognize that Native Americans generally possessed a
far higher level of awareness when it came to the natural world. It was
entirely possible that Max and Tom, as good as they were could walk right clues
that Danny would spot. "Hey Max, I want you to take Danny with you".
"Roger that, I'm only a hundred yards south along the pine row".
"Danny, which was will they go"? "If they are heading back to
that drop off site, they'll go the same way they came". "How do you
know which way they came"? asked Beans. "Because I tracked them, I
was just hauling ass here to tell you guys when the shit started flying. Looks
like I got here just in time. And by the way...there are two more of the
fuckers". "Ok"said Doug "Danny, you mind going with Max and
finding these assholes"? "Not at all man, give me a gun". Beans
had already grabbed his AR15 and a 1911 45 auto. "It's ok with me if you
want to shoot those dick heads" Beans said as he handed Danny the guns.
Danny bolted and worked his was up to where Max was waiting. Max called Tom
"hey Tom Danny is coming with us. Dougy, filled me in and Danny knows
where these guys are heading". "Who the fuck is Danny and how the
fuck does he know where they are going"? "He's the guy who pulled up
and has three bullets in his truck that would otherwise be in my chest, and he
knows the lay of the land". "We'll, why didn't you say so, hey I'm at
the shooters position, looks like I melted three of them. Also looks like they
were well equipped and we were lucky to smoke them before they had a chance to
use any of this stuff". "Ok, just keep on your toes because Danny
says there were five of um, so we got two left and they might just have some
toys left". As they moved south along the tree line, Danny filled Max in on
what he had figured out so far. "So, how do we play this". "I
think I can get us to a good ambush spot on their route back to the drop off
spot....if that's where they are going". "Sounds like a good plan to
me, what about Tom"? "Let's meet up with him about a mile south, here
are the GPS coordinance. "Hey Tom, meet up with us at this point, got
it"? "Yea, I got it".
Within
an hour they were positioned on a small ridge south of the drop site. The
waited for an hour totally camouflaged without making a sound or moving a muscle.
They were set in a picture prefect triple crossfire position that would have
spelt toast for anyone or anything that ventured within five hundred yards no
matter not well trained or equipped. "I get the feeling these guys had a
different evac strategy than we figured" Tom finally spoke into his
headset. "It's possible we have understood these guys" replied Max,
then asked Danny " any chance they had a boat, you know an inflatable or
something they could have unloaded during their drop and stashed somewhere"?
"When I survived the area I was looking for how many, how much gear and
which way they were heading. I would have noticed if they had an inflatable big
enough for five and with enough HP not to be stuck in the middle of Lake Mich...,
unless that chopper made a beach drop on his way out". "No fucking
way" Tom said as he came to the realization that his adversary's had
probably just flown the coop. "You and Danny take the beach back and I'll
hang out here a bit longer just in case". "Roger that"
"Yea
Ron that right 45 degrees 00 minutes 04 seconds north, 085 degrees 36
minutes406 seconds west. That's right military style Bell a-star
plus/super, black. No, no reg numbers, no, no pictures.....because it was the
middle of the fucking night, we were on our way here and they spotted it by
chance from 4 and a half miles away. Five of them, that's right we smoked
three. Sorry boss, it was us or them. No, no cops so far....well there is not
much in the way of law enforcement out here... No, a local constable that's
it..State boys on the mainland and Charlevoix county sheriff. No, no bodies,
have to use a fucking magnifying glass just to find a piece of bone....yea,
sidewinder at 300 yes. No, all private property, no, no ancillary damage at
all, just torched them their equipment and a hundred feet of brush land. Should
we come back to DC? Ok well stay put for 12 hours but I would just as soon get
outta here. No, I actually rather like it here, my kinda place, but considering
somebody sent five well trained mercenaries to do us in. Yea well they have the
same latitude and longitude I just gave you and if they are sophisticated enough
to have solders and high tech weapons and a chopper, they might just have a
cruse missile to send our way and finish their job. Ok boss will do". Doug
turned to everyone "ok you guys heard the gist of that, Ron suggests we
keep a lid on smoking those guys and let him take care of it from the top down-
and that sounds like an awfully good idea to me-that is if we can. Now, he also
suggests we sit tight for 12 hours, for him to arrange a level three
security detail and them for us to come in to DC via private jet to Reagan and
proceed from there under the L3 detail. Personally, I think that idea
sucks". "Me too said Jack". "So, what do you want to
do"? "BVI"? said Geno. "BVI" asked Tom Rum.
"British Virgin Islands" said Geno "Well alrighty now" said
Jack. "Now you're talking" said Tom. "I'm in" said Doug.
"What the hell, I've come this far with you bozos" said Annie G.
Everyone was looking at Max who had just been through a fire fight, hiked five
miles through the woods and back with fifty pounds of gear, and had not even
loosened his heck tie. He was brushing some dust off his standard black sport
coat, and just finished combing his hair. "What" he said as he
noticed everyone looking at him. "Are you in" asked Jack? "That
is Doug's call, I will do my job". "What was your assessment of the
exit site" he asked Tom and Danny. "15 ft nautilus with a super
compact outboard, probably around a hundred and twenty horse power capable of
doing at least fifty knots. They could be anywhere on the mainland with that
boat packed up and in the trunk of a car and heading south on I 75 by now. It
was two guys with five fairly heavy duffels of gear". "Ok, I get
it" Max answered "Douglas, I completely agree with your assessment of
our current situation as untenable and completely unsecured, what sort of
security apparatus do you have recon ordered in the vicinity ". Doug just
looked at Jack and Geno as if to say, hey he might be a nerd but he can keep
you from getting shot and Jack with his simi-telepathy sensed a vision from all
five of them and Max in this leather loafers, tie and suit coat standing on
deck of a catamaran sail boat in the British Virgin Islands in the Caribbean.
Jack said "yea Dougy, I read your mind".
Jack's
friend James (Jimmy) Klise who had been living in Key West had recently moved
back to the BVI where he had spent ten years of his life as a charter captain,
bartender and general jack of all trades. Jack and Geno had met him at
Lobblolly bay on the island of Anegada. He was now living on a custom built 60
foot Catamaran in Road Town Tortola and making great money in the charter
business. He had acquired a nice charter business along with the boat when an
elderly couple named Hank and Marla Green he had worked for as a captain passed
away and left him the boat. They had lived abroad for half the year and let it
out for charter the other half. Jimmy had started working for them in '24 and
immediately developed a close relationship with Hank and Marla. They were
both ninety two years old and in great shape ..., when he had started working
them and Jimmy became like a son to both of them. They spent the first two
seasons together cruising the Caribbean from Puerto Rico to Tobago. During the
summer and fall Hank and Marla would move to their cabin in Montana and Jimmy
would work on the boat and maintain a charter schedule. Over the next several
years he would deliver the boat to Jamestown Road Island for two months in the
summer. By '28 Hank and Marla were starting to slow down and show the effects
of ninety six years of live on earth. It was only by Jimmy's care that they
were able to spend the next two years on the boat. Jimmy had become pretty
attached to them both and he pretty much served as Captain, cook, caretaker,
nurse and manager for the charter business. In '30 Hank's health took a turn
for the worse and both of them mover to a long term care facility. One of their
sons moved to Tortola and took over the charter business and Jimmy moved to Key
West to work as a bone fishing guide. He stayed in touch with Hank and Marla,
and made the trip to Montana twice a year to visit. In January of 2032 they
both passed away within two week of one another. A week later Jimmy got a
message from their attorney that he had inherited the boat, the charter
business and seven hundred and fifty thousand in cash. Needless to say, this
was a good time in Jimmy's life.
"We
have a Super King Air sitting at the air strip, and three of us can fly
it" said Doug. “Make that four" said Annie G. "Make that
five" said Geno. “What, am I the only fucker around here that hasn't
learned how to fly an airplane" said Jack. “Let’s hit it". "We
can head due south and refuel in Atlanta, we’ll be in Tortola by seven this
evening".
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