Orchid Beach

CHAPTER

38

Holly drove out A1A to Sebastian Inlet, and took a left on an unpaved road marked JUNGLE TRAIL. The road ran along the northern end of the island for a mile or so, then curved south along the shores of the Indian River. Soon the river was obscured by heavy foliage; the road wasn’t called Jungle Trail for nothing.

She drove slowly down the dirt lane, occasionally passing a jogger or someone on a bike. There were sometimes views of the river, or, looking east, pasture land or citrus groves. She crossed small bridges over creeks leading to the river. She passed a number of developments to her left and an occasional golf course or stable. The air was warm and muggy, with any breeze captured by the trees. Then, after several miles, she drove around a sharp bend and came hard up against a high chain-link gate. A large sign read:

PALMETTO GARDENS

PRIVATE PROPERTY

STRICTLY NO TRESPASSING

ARMED RESPONSE!!!

She got out and looked. The gate was set into a ten-foot chain-link fence, and along its top was a double roll of not ordinary barbed wire, but razor wire. She peered through the fence and saw, perhaps a dozen feet away, another, equally high fence, trimmed in the razor wire, and this fence had signs saying DANGER—HIGH VOLTAGE. The ground between the fences had been denuded of vegetation and run over with what appeared to be a shallow harrow, leaving long, unbroken grooves in the dirt. Whoever breached the first fence faced electrocution at the second, and if he chickened out between the two, he would leave sharply defined footprints behind for some passing security officer to see.

Holly walked along the fence toward the river, but gradually, the vegetation made progress difficult, then impossible. The double fence went as far as she could see. She went back to the car and looked at the planning commission map. Jungle Trail ran through Palmetto Gardens and out the other side; she assumed that an identical fence closed off the south side, as well. There was nowhere to go but back, so she turned around and drove north on the trail. Back on A1A, she took the north bridge to Egret Island and Ham’s new house.

She picked up the microphone of the police radio she had had installed and called dispatch.

“Yes, Chief?”

“I’m done for the day. You can reach me on my cell phone.”

“Roger, Chief. There was a message for you.”

“Shoot.”

“Call Jackson.”

“Thanks, over and out.”

She dialed Jackson’s office number on her car phone.

“Oxenhandler.”

“Hey, it’s me.”

“Hi. I’m going to have the photographs in an hour or so. He’s dropping them off at the office.”

“Why don’t you bring them out to Ham’s?”

“Okay. What time?”

“Whenever you finish work. Bring some steaks, too, and a decent bottle of wine. All Ham ever has is beer and bourbon.”

“Will do.”

As Holly drove up to Ham’s house, Daisy bounded out to meet her, making yelping noises and laying her head onto Holly’s body, which was Daisy’s version of a hug. Holly knelt next to her and let the dog lick her face. “Hi, there, girl,” she cooed. “Yes, I’m glad to see you, too.” Daisy had spent several days with Ham.

Ham came out of the house. “That dog has really missed you,” he said.

“I’ve missed her, too.”

“I guess you two have really bonded. She wasn’t exactly unhappy with me, but it always seemed like there was something I was supposed to do or say that I wasn’t doing or saying.”

“I won’t leave her for so long again,” Holly said, rubbing the dog’s flanks and accepting the outpouring of affection. “Got a beer in there?”

“Sure, come on in.”

“Jackson is coming over and bringing some steaks; I hope that’s all right.”

“Sure, I’ll be glad to see him.” Ham got them both a beer from the fridge. “You know, I haven’t spent this much time alone for a long, long time—maybe never—and I’m really enjoying it. All I’ve done is read and watch sports on the satellite.”

“That’s all you ever did anyway, isn’t it?”

“Well, I worked, didn’t I? You forget I was in the army?”

“Why haven’t you played golf?”

“I haven’t had anybody to play with. You and Jackson have been so busy.”

“I’ll play with you this weekend, then.”

They sat down and watched Tiger Woods sink a forty-foot putt on TV.

“Holy shit,” Ham said.

Jackson arrived at half past six, loaded with groceries and a cardboard tube. “I’m starving,” he said. “Can we eat before we do anything else?”

Ham warmed up the grill and put on the steaks Jackson had brought.

“Oh, Ham,” Jackson said, “I’ve got something for you.” He handed Ham a sheet of paper. “It’s your application for the Dunes Country Club. The committee meets later this week, so fill it out and I’ll get it over there tomorrow.”

“That’s fast work,” Ham said, finding a pen and going to work on the form.

“Glad to do it.”

They finished dinner and cleared the table, then Jackson opened the cardboard tube he had brought. “Get me some transparent tape and some thumbtacks,” he said. He pinned rolls of photographic paper to the dining table and taped the seams. “Okay,” he said, “there you have it: Palmetto Gardens.”

Holly pointed to where Jungle Trail met the fence. “I was here this afternoon,” she said. “There’s a double fence here with a plowed strip in between and signs about high voltage.” She pointed elsewhere on the photographs. “Look, it goes all the way around. In front, the wire is obscured by the high hedges.”

“Here’s the building with all the antennas,” Jackson said, pointing.

“What are these buildings here?” Holly asked, pointing to a series of parallel structures.

“Looks like housing of some sort—for staff, maybe.”

“You think all the employees live on the place?”

“I don’t know, but I’ve never met anybody who worked there, so maybe.”

“What do you suppose they do for R and R?” Ham asked.

“They’ve got an airfield. Maybe they fly them to Disney World or something,” Jackson offered.

“Hey, look at this,” Ham said, pointing.

“Looks like vegetation,” Holly said.

“That’s not vegetation, it’s camouflage netting.”

“Are you sure?” Holly asked, peering at it.

“You think I’ve never seen that stuff? I lived under it for two years, in ’Nam. I’ve seen a lot of it in photographs, too. Look, here’s another patch, and another.” There were half a dozen patches, scattered over the area, and two more near the airfield.

“What would they be covering up with camouflage netting?” Holly asked.

“Antiaircraft-gun emplacements?” Ham offered. “Ground-to-air missiles?”

“Come on, Ham, we’re not in Vietnam. It must be something else.”

“What else would you need to hide from overflights?” Ham asked. “That netting doesn’t work if you’re on the ground, you know.”

Jackson spoke up. “Does it strike anybody that this place looks more like a military installation than anything else?”

“Yeah,” Ham said. “I mean, there’s lots of big houses and the golf courses, but if you don’t count those, it looks military to me.”

“Look,” Jackson said, pointing. “Radar at the airfield. Orchid Beach Airport doesn’t have radar.”

“Ham,” Holly said, “if you had to take Palmetto Gardens, how would you do it?”

Ham looked at the photographs again for a moment. “I’d chopper in a regiment of airborne, take the airfield and overwhelm the rest of the place in a hurry.”

“How would you do it if you were the cops, instead of the military?”

Ham shook his head. “I wouldn’t,” he said.