Last Op

Chapter 12

Twenty minutes later, Henley started slowing the vehicle. A twenty acre park, shaped like a fairway dogleg, was within sight of his neighborhood. Flower gardens, fountains, and a small lake attracted locals everyday. This evening, two children were chasing ducks across the grass, while their parents stood close by, holding small bags with feed.

“We’re almost there,” Henley said while he held onto the steering wheel with a death grip. He made a left turn, going up a slight hill on a narrow road. “That’s the street,” he said pointing to the right.

Grant said quietly, “Stop here.”

The street was a cul-de-sac that had about twenty houses, ten on each side, all one story. They were built in pairs, each pair attached by single car garages. All were the same beige colored stucco, except garages were different colors.

Grant looked out the side window. “Which house?”

Henley pointed. “Fourth on the left, with the blue garage door.”

Adler kept his eyes on the surrounding area, as Grant asked, “Any other doors besides the front?”

“There’s one in the kitchen leading out to the backyard.”

“What’s the layout?”

“Living room, dining room to the right; kitchen in the middle; two bedrooms to the left; one bath in between the bedrooms.”

“What’s out back?”

“There’s a narrow tree line with more houses behind it.”

“Give Joe the house keys.”

Henley took the keys from the ignition and slid one skeleton key from the ring. He handed it to Adler. “That opens front and back. Here’s the key to the garage.”

“Is there an inside door to the garage?” Adler asked.

“No.”

Grant pointed straight ahead. “Drive to those trees.” Henley started the engine and slowly drove up the main street. “How’s it lookin’, Joe?” Grant asked as they passed the side street.

“A couple of kids playing at the end of the road. Only three cars parked in driveways. That’s it.”

“Okay, Jack. Pull over here.”

Grant and Adler got out. Grant leaned toward the window, looking at Henley. “Turn around. Wait near the park we just passed.”

“But… ”

“Take off, Jack. Wait there.”

Reluctantly, Henley drove away. Grant and Adler ignored him, keeping their full attention on their objective.

“Take the front door, Joe. I’ll work around to the back.”

Adler held the key in his left hand, with his right hand on his holstered weapon. Cautiously walking up two steps, he followed the short sidewalk to the front door. He took a moment to look one more time around the neighborhood, making sure no one was standing by windows. Seeing Grant disappear around the side of the house, he unlocked the door.

Stepping into the entry, he drew his weapon. Looking into the open spaces, he listened for any sounds. Nothing.

The back door was clear glass top to bottom. He saw Grant leaning slightly, in order to get a view of the kitchen. Adler unlocked the door. Taking one last scan of the yard, Grant slipped into the room.

The kitchen was narrow… no wider than five feet. Cabinets and counters were stark white. A gas cooktop was next to a small stainless sink. Opposite was a small fridge under a cabinet. Brit housewives usually shopped everyday, bringing home fresh vegetables and meats. Electricity was at a premium. Most homeowners had a meter in the garage. A supply of shillings was kept handy. Run out of shillings… run out of electricity.

The two men slowly walked through the room. No food was on the counters or cooktop. The absence of cooking odors suggested nothing had been prepared. The kitchen was spotless.

Standing in the kitchen doorway, Grant motioned for Adler to go around to the dining room and living room. He turned and quietly headed to the front bedroom.

The door was closed. He stepped nearer, looking down the hallway, seeing the bathroom door open. The second bedroom door was closed.

His left hand was on the door handle when he saw Adler coming toward him, shaking his head. Grant motioned for him to position himself outside the back bedroom.

Slowly opening the door, Grant stepped in cautiously. Again, everything was in its place. The bed was made. There were two wardrobes. He opened the first. Long dresses, mini skirts, and blouses hung undisturbed from a wooden bar. Boots and shoes were lined up across the bottom. Then he opened the wardrobe next to it. Henley’s uniforms, ties and civvies were neatly arranged.

He left the bedroom, walking toward the bathroom, motioning for Adler to check the back bedroom. Within a minute Adler reappeared, shaking his head. Grant poked his head into the small bathroom. Nothing.

They holstered their weapons. Adler asked, “Well, what do you think? Do we need to check the garage?”

“Do it. I’m gonna take one quick look around to see if we missed anything.”

Grant heard the sound of the garage door being raised then closed. Again, nothing.

Adler came back through the front door, seeing Grant walking out of the hallway. “I take it you didn’t find anything either.”

On one hand Grant was relieved they didn’t, but on the other, it meant more questions, like where the hell was Victoria Henley?

“Let’s go meet Jack,” Grant said as he opened the front door and looked up and down the street. “Clear.”

Adler stepped outside then locked the door. They left quickly, making sure their weapons were hidden under their jackets.

They still couldn’t see the van from where they were. Adler took the time to comment, “I’ve been trying to come up with a reason why the commander acted the way he did, skipper.”

Grant just shook his head. “I don’t know what the hell the problem is, Joe. I mean, I know his concern for his wife, but it’s like he’s fighting me on everything.”

“You don’t seriously think he’s involved in any way, do you?”

“I sure as hell hope not. It’s just that I don’t know what to expect from him.”

“You mean like possibly doing something stupid?”

“Right. I tell you what I’d like to do and that’s throw his ass in the slammer to keep him out of trouble.”

“Christ, skipper! The man’s a commander in charge of an EOD team. What’s makin’ him so… so irrational?”

“Good question.” Grant slowed his pace, then threw out another idea. “Maybe it’s his wife we’ve gotta worry about.”

That caught Adler off guard. “But we had her security checked!”

“I know, but it doesn’t mean… ” Spotting the van, Grant went silent. Henley started opening the door, until Grant waved him back, as he said to Adler, “You and I will have to talk that one out, Joe.”

Adler said, “Agreed, but I guess in the meantime, we do the ‘babysitting’ routine, huh?”

“For now, yeah.”

Adler jumped into the back seat as Grant got in the front passenger side.

“Did you find her?” Henley asked nervously.

Grant leaned against the door, turning slightly to look at him. “No sign of her, Jack.”

Henley just stared at Grant, unbelieving. Grant added, “Nothing was disturbed. Everything was in order. If she was expecting you home for dinner, it sure as hell didn’t look it. Stove, counters were as clean as a whistle.”

All three men sat quietly until Grant asked, “Is it possible she went out with friends?”

“I don’t think so. She would’ve told me.”

“Gimme some help here, Jack, because I think we’re running out of time.”

Not only were they running out of time, but Grant was running out of patience. “Look… just get us the hell outta here. Head to her brother’s place!”

Grant thought of dropping Henley off at EOD. He and Adler could find their way to St. Columb Major. But he wasn’t prepared to leave Henley on his own. This Navy commander seemed to be going off the deep end and Grant couldn’t risk it. If matters got worse, he would have no choice but to relieve him of command. And that didn’t set well either.

Adler rested an arm against the back of the front seat, getting a better view out the windshield. He was trying to remember streets and landmarks in case they had to make a return visit without Henley.

Grant knew Adler was mentally tracing the route, giving him a chance to concentrate on their next move. But he kept thinking about Henley’s house. If Adler had noticed the locks had been jimmied, he would’ve said something. But everything was in perfect order. Maybe it was too damn spotless.

There appeared to be more than one scenario when it came to Victoria Webb-Henley. None of them were to Grant’s liking.

He had to decide — either go to St. Columb Major or call the admiral. “Change of plans. Gotta call the admiral. Take us to the base.”

“But what about…?” Henley asked, giving Grant a quick, confused look.

Grant was already preparing for his conversation with Torrinson and completely ignored Henley. His decision could possibly mean life or death for thousands of residents and tourists in Cornwall.

Keeping the Rover in second gear as it barreled up the driveway, Webb spun the steering wheel as he made the curve around the back of the house. Tires skidded across gravel when he hit both brake and clutch. He popped both peddles. The Rover lurched violently and came to a stop. He flung open the door, then jumped out. Running hard, he burst into the kitchen.

The men seated at the dining room table swung around. Razzag Aknin jumped up, dagger in hand. His chair hit the floor. He stood protectively in front of Massi.

Labeaux motioned with his hand. “Relax. He’s one of my men. He drove you here, remember?” He moved away from the table, waited until Aknin settled down, then walked to the kitchen.

Grabbing Webb by the arm, he roughly pulled him away from the door. “What’s wrong with you? Don’t… ”

“They found a body!”

“What are you talking about?”

“After I left Victoria, I circled back through town. Copper’s were everywhere. Some bloke ran by the car and I asked him what the fuck was happening. He said a body’d been found tangled in a fisherman’s net. They brought it into Newquay Harbor.”

Labeaux wondered if it could be Farrell’s body. “And why do you think I’d be interested?”

“I just thought that… that something could’ve happened to Quinn, or one of the others.”

“I see.” Labeaux debated with himself. Should he go to the harbor to see if it was Farrell’s body? That would confirm Quinn had followed his orders. Or should he ignore it completely?

He glanced at his watch. “I should be done soon, then you’re to take those two back to the airfield. Return here immediately after.”

Webb slowly backed away, seeing the two Arabs watching him closely. Once outside, he went to the Rover and slammed the car door. Questions started filling his mind. What the fuck were two Arabs doing here? And why with less than two days before the operation against St. Mawgan?

It was a well known fact that Labeaux sold himself to anyone with money. Were they here to make plans of their own for his next adventure somewhere in the Middle East? But why meet here in England?

He reached through the open window, snatching a pack of cigarettes from the dash. After drawing one out with his lips, he tossed the pack back on the dash. He flipped open the lighter. His hands were shaking. He couldn’t light the damn cigarette. Giving up, he angrily threw the cigarette across the yard.

He thought about Callum and his men on the boat hiding out somewhere. Could that body possibly be one of them? What was it Labeaux said earlier when he asked why Farrell wasn’t with him? Was it possible Farrell was killed? Is that why Labeaux wanted to go to Newquay Harbor? To see if was Farrell’s body?

The hair on the back of his neck stood on end. “Bloody fuck!” He started walking back and forth furiously. Maybe he was wrong. Maybe he was just getting a case of the jitters with the operation coming up. Labeaux was their only hope for doing damage to the Brits.

Opening the car door, he slid his hand under the seat, verifying the binoculars were there. Once they got to the harbor, he’d try to find out for himself.

As the three men approached EOD, Grant reached for Henley’s arm. “Hold up, Jack. I’d like you to wait in the outer office while I phone the admiral.”

“Victoria may be in danger, and you want to make a fuckin’ phone call?!” Henley shouted.

Grant’s head was pounding. “Look, Jack, I realize you’re worried, but can’t you understand our concern about the thousands of people in this town?”

Henley just stared at Grant, not responding. Right now he didn’t give a shit about anyone else except his wife.

Grant turned and opened the door. Only two men were in the EOD office, both on duty. Everyone else left for the evening.

When the three officers entered, the petty officers stood. “Evening, sirs.”

“As you were, gentlemen,” Grant said, giving a cursory nod, then he turned his attention to Henley. “Jack, why don’t you give your brother-in-law a call while we talk with the admiral? Tell me what you find out.” Henley just watched the two men disappear into his office.

Adler closed the door behind him. His question to Grant was more of a statement. “You don’t think there’s gonna be anybody at that house, do you?”

“I’d be surprised otherwise,” Grant answered, glancing at his watch. He picked up the phone and dialed the number for NIS.

“Admiral Torrinson’s office. Petty Officer Phillips.”

“Zach. Captain Stevens.”

“Afternoon, sir!” the red-headed Phillips responded.

“Is the admiral available, Zach?”

“He’s over at State, sir. Secretary Freedman requested a meeting.”

“It’s important, Zach. Any way to patch me through?”

Phillips nodded to himself. “Wait one, sir.”

Adler hooked his thumbs in his back pockets and walked to the window. Nukes! Not a pleasant thought.

Grant leaned back against the edge of the desk, crossing one foot over the other. With his head down, he tried to piece together what they learned so far. It wasn’t much. He wondered if Secretary Freedman would accept the little he did have.

Grant never met the Secretary, but only heard occasional scuttlebutt from his two friends in the Secret Service. Freedman was impatient, demanding, and egotistical. When he was appointed Secretary of State, Washington “buzzed” for weeks. He had yet to face a crisis… political or otherwise. This might just be the time.

Grant wasn’t sure what to expect during the coming conversation.

Zach came back on the line. “Sir, I’m patching you through to Secretary Freedman’s office.”

Grant finally heard Torrinson’s voice. “Captain?”

“Yes, sir.”

“I’m here with Secretary Freedman, Grant. SECDEF and SECNAV should be arriving shortly.”

“Sir, I still don’t have a whole lot of information, but I think it might be time to bring in SIS.”

“Let me put you on speaker, Grant.”

A moment later, Grant heard, “Captain Stevens, this is Secretary Freedman.” Freedman kept his eyes on his cigar as he rolled it between his fingers.

“Afternoon, sir.”

“Do you have anything to report, Captain?”

“Not much, sir, except I think I’ve identified a couple more players.”

“Are they major players?” Freedman asked, as he glanced at Torrinson.

“Sorry, sir, but I don’t believe so.”

Freedman shook his head in disappointment, as Torrinson took over the conversation. “Grant, you mentioned something about SIS.”

“Yes, sir. I know I don’t have a lot to go on, but I think they’re the ones who might be able to assist in making identifications.”

“Are you suspecting any group or specific individual?”

“Well, sir, I may be reaching here, but considering the situation between Northern Ireland and England, we may have to look at the IRA.”

Torrinson leaned back, mulling over Grant’s suggestion. It was well known that U.S. and Libyan sympathizers supplied arms and money to the Northern Ireland cause, but to suspect the IRA of using nuclear weapons was indeed a stretch.

Freedman stuck the unlit cigar in his mouth, gnawing on the tip. Letting it dangle from the corner of his mouth, he questioned, “Captain, what are your thoughts about the Libyans being somehow involved?”

“Well, sir, there’s always that possibility, but right now I’m going with the IRA. Can’t deny Libya might be helping with the financing, and we know they want nuclear technology, but… ” Grant slowly shook his head. “Sirs, I just don’t have enough intel to answer with any positive conviction.”

Before there were comments, Grant said, “Admiral, Mr. Secretary, it may be time to consider the consequences. There are thousands of people here in Newquay, residents and tourists alike, and that’s not counting the small hamlets within only a few miles of St. Mawgan.”

As Grant waited for a response, there was a knock at the office door. Adler opened it seeing one of the petty officer’s. Grant looked at the two as he finally heard Freedman ask, “Captain, are you suggesting a total evacuation of that area?”

Adler closed the door and stepped near Grant, whispering, “Fisherman found a body.”

Grant covered the mouthpiece. “Get details.” Adler nodded then left.

“Captain?” Freedman said louder.

“Sorry, sir, but we just got a report that a body’s been found.”

Torrinson spoke up. “Grant, I suspect you have some additional details to share.”

“Uh, yes, sir.” Grant proceeded to relay all the information about the boat and the two individuals he saw at the harbor, adding information about the trip to the debris site.

Then it was time to bring up Commander Jack Henley. He decided to keep to himself his own concerns regarding Henley’s possible involvement. He still didn’t have proof. “Sirs, I’m worried about Commander Henley.”

Both the Secretary and Torrinson didn’t like the sound of that. “Go on,” Torrinson replied.

Grant described Henley’s depth of worry concerning his wife, ending with, “We don’t know where she is, sir.”

Torrinson replied, “You’ve got a lot of different directions to go, Grant.”

“I know, sir. Have to find out about that body first. Depending what we learn, Joe and I might be heading to St. Columb Major to check out the brother-in-law’s place. Oh, sir, is it possible to have someone run a check on that guy? My fault; should’ve done it sooner.”

“Give me his name,” Torrinson said, jotting down the information. “When I get the report, where should I contact you?”

“Tough answer, sir. Maybe just leave word here. We’ve got radios and Chief Becker has the frequencies. Joe or I will try and check in from wherever we are.” Grant ran a hand over the top of his head, feeling frustrated and worried.

Secretary Freedman broke in. “Captain, I’ll talk with the president about SIS getting involved. If that happens it’ll probably be someone from their MI6 division. And Captain, you realize that division doesnot exist.”

“I understand, Mr. Secretary.” Grant smiled to himself, thinking about another group — SEAL Team Six. They didn’t exist either.