Long Shadows

Chapter 69

They stayed over in Miami, and the next morning Decker called Arthur Dykes, who had long since retired and was living in Punta Gorda, north of Fort Myers. They made arrangements to meet with him, then left Miami and drove straight to see the retired agent.

Dykes lived in — What else? Decker thought — a golf community. They took the elevator up to his condo and were invited in.

Dykes was medium height and had kept a trim, active figure, though he was now around eighty. He also had a full head of silvery hair. His home was free of knickknacks and the clutter one sometimes saw in the homes of the elderly. He was a widower, he told them, as he invited them in. His four kids were spread out over the country.

Over iced teas as they sat at an outdoor deck, Dykes told them about his time with Kanak Roe and the Secret Service.

“Kanak was driven, focused, wanted to make a career out of it,” he said.

“But he didn’t,” pointed out Decker. “He left nine years short of his full pension. Do you know what changed his mind?”

Dykes looked uncomfortable. “You could retire with twenty years’ service at age fifty, but Kanak wasn’t close to being that old. He wasn’t even forty when he left the Service. He was hard to read. I mean, he was a really good friend for many years, but we came from really different backgrounds. He left his home country when he was a kid, but he saw some crazy shit, let me tell you. And I know it affected him. As good friends as we were, there was a side of Kanak that no one else ever saw, including me.”

“Anything unusual with his Secret Service career?” asked Decker.

“We joined up at the same time. Went through training together. We did normal rotations, worked on protection details for several presidents, including Reagan. Everything was going smoothly. Then, bam, he checked out.”

“So he never talked to you about his abrupt career change?” asked White.

“Not in so many words, but Kanak became... different.”

“When and how?” asked a suddenly tense Decker. “Be as precise as possible.”

“I’ve given it a lot of thought, particularly after I found out you wanted to meet. And I can actually pinpoint it to one specific time.”

“Let’s hear it,” said Decker.

“We were protecting Reagan at the time. This was about eight months after Hinckley shot him. The Service, of course, had changed its protocols to make sure that wouldn’t happen again. Anyway, we’d been on that particular protection detail for about three months. And don’t believe what you see on movies or TV, there’s nothing glamorous about it. It’s just a grind. Tedious as hell ninety-nine percent of the time. The other one percent? You’re screwed if you mess up one little bit.”

“I’m sure,” said White.

“We were in Miami for a speech Reagan was giving. Nothing special, just another fund-raiser. When it was over, we rotated off duty after the president got back to his hotel suite and went to bed. Some of us guys went out for a late dinner and drinks. But Kanak didn’t. He stayed at the hotel. The next morning he... he was different.”

“How?” asked Decker.

“He was normally the first down for the briefing, but I had to go up and get him. He was still dressed in his clothes from the previous night. Looked like he hadn’t slept. At first, I thought he was hungover because he just seemed out of it, but he assured me he hadn’t had a drop. There were no bottles that I could see, and no smell of liquor on his breath or clothes. And he was pretty much a teetotaler, so I believed him. I asked him what was wrong, but he wouldn’t say anything. He... he just looked stunned, I guess.”

“Keep going,” prompted White.

“He pulled himself together and did his job that day. But after that things got weird.”

“How so?” asked Decker.

“He’d get phone calls in the office but would never say a word about them. Who was calling or why. He’d leave early to go meet someone, but he never said who. His work suffered, and he got written up a couple of times. I would have thought he was having an affair, but he wasn’t married back then.”

“Maybe he was seeing someone who was married,” suggested White.

“Maybe, but Kanak was such a straight arrow, I just couldn’t see that. I had him over a few times for dinner with me and my wife, you know, trying to get him to open up. But he never really did.”

“Did he say anything at all that might explain what had happened?” asked Decker.

Dykes mulled over this. “He and I were sitting in my apartment just shooting the breeze one day. Suddenly, he looked over at me and said, ‘Artie, I wish one thing.’ He said, ‘I wish to hell I had gone out with you guys that night in Miami.’”

Decker and White glanced at each other. He said, “Did you ask him why?”

“Of course I did, but he clammed up like nobody’s business. Couldn’t get another word out of him on the subject. And believe me, I tried. I talked to some other agents who had stayed at the hotel that night, but they couldn’t tell me anything useful. They just hit the sack and woke up the next morning. Seems like whatever happened, only happened to Kanak.”

“You ever tell anybody about this?” asked White.

“Just my wife.”

“I’d keep it that way, for now,” said White. “Until we figure this out.”

Dykes glanced at her with an anxious expression. “Yeah, okay.”

“Anything else you can tell us?”

“Just that it was about six months later when he resigned from the Secret Service and moved to Florida to start his business. Then he got married and, later, his daughter was born. He sent me an announcement.”

“Career change, marriage, baby. That’s a lot in a very short period of time,” noted Decker.

“Yeah, it was.”

“Were you surprised?” asked White.

“Flabbergasted was more like it. Me and everybody else. I mean, he was walking away from a great pension, health care, everything. But, as it turned out, he made the right decision. I mean, the guy became rich.”

“Did you see him after he left the Service?”

“Yeah, he came to some reunions, birthdays, retirement parties. He was a big shot by then. Drove up in a Rolls-Royce one time, with a driver and everything. I could only shake my head.” Dykes chuckled. “He brought his daughter to one event. Hell, she was probably only ten or twelve, but you could tell he was already grooming her to be his heir apparent. She was clearly in awe of him. Heard she went the Secret Service route, too. That was long after I retired. Now she’s running the show at Gamma.”

“You heard what happened to Kanak?” said Decker.

“Yeah, I did. Crazy. I mean, we’d lost touch by then. Last time I saw him was maybe ten years ago. Ann, my wife, was still alive. He looked good, happy, content.”

“Did he mention anything when you saw him last?”

“No, it was all superficial ‘how ya doing’ bullshit. He was just a totally different guy by then. We just had our years at the Service in common by then, and it had been a long time. When I heard he went missing on his boat, I thought, what the hell was that about? It was like he just wanted to disappear. I mean, they never found any wreckage or anything. And you’d think they would have found something if the boat went down.”

“You’d think,” said Decker. “You ever see Kasimira again?”

Dykes nodded. “I went to his memorial service. They couldn’t really have a funeral, of course. She spoke at it. Very moving stuff. I was crying like a baby. She loved her father, that was for sure.”

“You have any inkling what could have happened back in Miami that night?” asked Decker.

Dykes eyed him. “All I can say is, whatever did happen, must’ve been goddamn life changing. Because it did change Kanak Roe’s life.”

Decker glanced at White before asking, “What hotel in Miami?”

Dykes took on a wistful look. “The Fontainebleau. Reagan liked it because the hotel had been used for a bunch of movies and TV. Jerry Lewis and Sinatra did stuff there. Lucille Ball, Bob Hope, and Judy Garland all stayed there. They filmed some of that Bond movie Goldfinger there. Reagan just ate it up. You know he was an actor before he was president.”

“Yeah, I heard. Was anyone else of note staying at the hotel at the time?” asked Decker.

Dykes shook his head. “I mean, after POTUS, everyone else is way down the pecking order.”

“Was his wife with him on the trip?” asked White.

“No, Mrs. Reagan was back in DC. It was only the one night. We flew back home the next morning. All routine stuff.”

Decker handed him a card. “If you can think of anything, give us a call.”

Dykes took the card and looked up at him. “What is going on here, Agent Decker?”

“I wish I knew. But we’re going to find out.”

As they walked to their car, White said, “Let me guess. Back to Miami and the Fontainebleau?”

“Where else?”