Last Op

Chapter 15

“You got the radio?” Grant asked as they got out of the MG.

“Got it handy.”

As they headed for the entrance to the station, Adler ran a hand back and forth across his chin. “Don’t think either one of us is looking too presentable this morning, skipper.”

“Not a priority. Come on.” Grant took off his cap and smoothed his hair back. He opened the door.

The two of them approached the desk. “Excuse me,” Grant said.

The uniformed officer turned around. Grant immediately recognized the constable. “Sergeant Fowley, right?”

Fowley looked at Grant for a moment. “Oh, you’re the American I spoke with the other night.”

“Yes, sir. Grant Stevens. This is Joe Adler.”

Both Adler and Fowley acknowledged each other with a nod, then Fowley looked again at Grant. “What brings you here this lovely morning? Could it be you’re wanting to speak with Chief Inspector Townsend?”

“Yes, sir. I realize we’re a little late in… ”

“Wait here,” Fowley ordered. He walked from behind the desk, then turned down a hallway.

Adler leaned sideways against the desk and propped an elbow on top. “See you’ve made another friend.”

“Yeah. We’re good buds.” Grant went near the end of the desk, looking down the hallway, finally seeing Fowley motioning for him. “Let’s go. We’re being summoned.”

Fowley stood in the middle of the hall, waiting. As Grant and Adler approached him, he held an arm out to the side. “Right in there, gentlemen.”

“Thanks, sergeant,” Grant said with a sideways glance.

He and Adler walked into a large open room with several desks, separated by low dividers, and lit by bright florescent lights.

They stood by the door, finally seeing a tall man walking towards them. He was about 6’4”, with short, light brown hair, thin features and a ruddy complexion.

Grant extended a hand. “Chief Inspector Townsend?”

Royce Townsend shook Grant’s hand, holding it with a firm grip. “That’s correct. I believe Sergeant Fowley said you are Grant Stevens?”

“Yes, sir, and this is Joe Adler.”

Townsend and Adler shook hands, then Townsend directed them into the conference room.

Grant pulled a chair out and sat down, keeping his windbreaker zipped up, covering his .45. He started to reach for the letter in his pocket, then decided to hold off.

Townsend dropped a notepad on the table then took a seat. After taking out a ballpoint pen from his tweed sports coat, he slid the pad toward himself.

Grant and Adler waited, and finally, Townsend looked at Grant. “I assumed Mr. Henley would have been here.”

Grant replied, “That’s ‘Commander’ Henley, sir, and he had a prior commitment.”

“According to Sergeant Fowley you work in Washington, D.C. for the Naval Investigative Service.”

“Yes, sir. We do.”

“Civilians?”

“No, sir. We’re Navy.” Grant rested his arms on the table and asked, “Didn’t Sergeant Fowley give you this information, sir?”

“He did. Now, would you please give me your ranks?”

Grant complied, and as Townsend was writing, Grant looked across the table at Adler, giving him an almost imperceptible shake of his head. He wanted to move things along faster. “Have you found out any more about Mr. Carter’s death, sir?”

Townsend dropped his pen on the notepad then leaned back. “According to the M.E.’s report, Mr. Carter drowned.”

“So, he was alive when he and his car went under that sludge?”

“That’s what was indicated, with the, uh, fluid the M.E. found in his lungs.”

“Was anything else found in the car that would give us — you any leads, sir?”

“Two suitcases were in the backseat and a box with other personal items. It looked like he may have been moving. But why he was at the clay pits is a bit of a mystery.” Townsend’s eyebrow went up and he asked, “You wouldn’t know why now, would you?”

Grant decided enough was enough. He needed information. He had to find Labeaux. “Sir, are you aware that Derek Carter worked at St. Mawgan?”

“That was in Sergeant Fowley’s notes.”

Grant continued, “We have reason to believe that Mr. Carter was involved in a security breach. And before you ask, our boss is aware that we’d be having this discussion with you.”

“Can I ask what that security breach might be?”

“You can, sir, but I’m afraid there are some things I can’t discuss. If you or a higher up needs clarification, Admiral Torrinson at NIS can be contacted. Hope you understand.”

Townsend again thumbed through his notes. “What’s this admiral’s full name and title?”

“He’s Rear Admiral John Torrinson, Chief of Naval Investigative Ser… ”

“Oh, never mind. I see it,” Townsend interrupted, putting a circle around the written information.

While Townsend made more notes, Grant sat back, clasping his hands behind his head, seeing Adler patting his stomach. Grant just smiled before saying, “I can tell you this, sir, we’re positive Victor Labeaux’s involved.”

Townsend was completely caught off guard. “Bloody hell! Labeaux? You’re sure?”

Adler responded, “Positive, sir. We saw him at the harbor.”

“Joe’s correct, sir. Both times were at the harbor, and both pure coincidence.”

Townsend again sat back. “Twice. You went to the harbor twice. For any particular reason?”

Grant explained the circumstances that brought him to the harbor.

Townsend was ready to write. “Did you happen to get a license plate number?”

Adler responded, “Afraid not, sir. The Rover didn’t have any.”

“Maybe it was a rental. I’ll check the local companies.” Townsend made a notation and underlined it twice.

“I don’t think we’ve got much time, sir,” Grant said. “If I’m right, we’ve only got until early Monday to stop this… incident.”

Townsend stopped writing, then tapped the pen against his mouth. “It’s too bad you didn’t talk with me sooner. Maybe… ”

Grant interrupted. “Didn’t have anything to go on, sir, until Labeaux came into the picture.” Grant pushed his chair back, stood, then started thinking out loud. “I doubt he’s hiding anywhere in town. It’s gotta be someplace with easy access to the base or maybe the harbor. How much time would it take to locate any houses rented over the past, oh, let’s say, over the past couple of months?”

Townsend propped his elbows on the table, resting his chin on his fists. “Why don’t you think he’d rent a flat? Most visitors want to stay in town.”

Grant shook his head. “Don’t think we can consider him a typical visitor, sir. He wouldn’t want neighbors. The less eyes, the better.”

“I’ll see what I can find out,” Townsend answered. “The number of house rentals should be lower than vehicle rentals.”

“What about another boat, skipper?” Adler asked. “Do you think the harbor needs watching?”

“Might be a good idea, Joe.” Grant looked toward Townsend. “Guess it might be a long-shot, sir. Think you could have the harbor staked out?”

“For what purpose and for how long?”

Grant pulled his sleeve back, and checked his watch. “Through Monday morning, unless we luck out sooner.”

“What would we be looking for?”

“That’s a tough one, sir, but I doubt he’d rent any other craft. I suspect there’s another vessel involved, anchored offshore, and something bigger that’s probably got a life raft of some type. He’s gonna want to haul ass, so more than likely it’ll be a rubber boat with an engine. That’s what you’d have to watch for.”

Townsend kept his eyes on Grant as Adler spoke. “He doesn’t have a crystal ball, sir. But his instincts can be pretty damn scary at times.”

Grant turned away for a moment, then he looked again at Townsend. “Sir, do you have a large map of the coast we could look at?”

Townsend pushed his chair back as he stood. “Wait here.”

Once he left, Adler got up, and adjusted his holster under his jacket. “You’re planning on inspecting the coastline, aren’t you?”

“Gotta bring the chopper back to St. Mawgan, Joe. That goddamn boat’s gotta be within striking distance if I’m right.”

Townsend came back with a large map draped over his arm. Laying it on the conference table, he smoothed it out. “Now what?” he asked staring down at the color map.

Grant and Adler both leaned over the table. Grant traced the coastline with his index finger. “Lot of coves,” he commented. Without looking up, he asked Townsend, “Are most of these beaches used by tourists?”

“They are. Even with the cliffs, most have paths for easy access.”

Grant continued searching, finally pointing to a place off the coast. “This is Lundy, right?”

“It is.”

Grant calculated the distance. “Looks to be about sixty miles from here.” He leaned closer to the map, looking at dotted lines. “Is this ferry service?”

“Yes. Sailings go from Bideford and Ilfracombe to the southeast coast of Lundy.”

“Guess we can eliminate that area,” Grant said, drawing a circle on the map with a finger. “Is there a large population on the island, sir?”

“The only year-round residents are mostly volunteers, and I’d say no more than thirty.”

“Thirty? Three zero?” Adler questioned, with a raised eyebrow.

“Correct.”

“And I assume there’s a lighthouse somewhere near here.” This time Grant tapped the northwest tip of the island.”

Townsend looked closer. “That’s one. There’s another at the southeastern tip, right here.”

“What do you think, skipper? Did you find a spot where you think they’d be hiding?”

“I’d say right in here, Joe. What’s this area like, sir? Cliffs?”

“There are, but there are also steeper, grass-covered slopes. The area you’re pointing to is Gannets’ Rock. When the weather’s good there are usually guided boat tours for viewing the seals and seabird colonies. But what…?” Townsend didn’t get a chance to finish

Adler’s radio sounded. “Uh, excuse me, sir.” He got up and gave an ‘uh-oh’ kind of look to Grant. He started reaching into his jacket, as he was heading for the door. Grant’s eyes stayed with Adler until he was out of the room.

“Captain?”

Grant snapped his head around. “Yes, sir?”

“Care to tell me what you have in mind?”

“Gonna do a recon of that area, sir. Shouldn’t take long.”

“I can contact the RAF at St. Mawgan. Maybe they can fly… ”

“Not necessary, sir. We have a chopper standing by. Unless you have anything else, sir, I guess we can end this meeting. Oh, one more thing. Joe and I are staying at the EOD barracks.”

Townsend thumbed through his notes. “So you’re not at the Atlantic anymore?”

Grant shook his head, still watching the door, when it opened and Adler motioned for him. He extended his hand to Townsend. “Good to meet you, sir. Will be in touch.” Just as he got to the door he turned around. “Did you ever get a report from the M.E. on that body brought to the harbor, sir?”

“Nothing yet.”

Grant nodded, then left, chasing down Adler in the corridor. “What the hell happened, Joe?” he asked just above a whisper.

Adler pushed the door open. “Tell you outside.”

Walking away from the building, Grant put on his cap then grabbed Adler’s arm. “Tell me.”

“That was Chief Becker. Petty Officer Weaver went to pick up the commander at 0700 but… ”

Grant slammed his fist into his palm. “Goddammit!”