Run into Trouble

CHAPTER 33

Today’s run goes from Bonny Doon Road in Santa Cruz County to the intersection of Route 84 in San Mateo County near San Gregorio State Beach, all on Route 1. The terrain is relatively flat, compared to some of the hills you’ve seen in the past. Now that you’re rested from your day off, it should be a day of high-speed running. You’ll be close to the water and see lots of pretty beaches.

“This is not what I signed up for.”

Drake couldn’t tell who had uttered the complaint. The timbre of the voice behind him was changed by the headwind that was sapping the strength of the runners. It was also blowing sand in their faces, creating the illusion of being jabbed by hundreds of tiny needles. Some of the runners were trying to counteract the sand by wearing caps with the bills pulled low to protect their eyes, but sudden gusts of wind blew them off with regularity.

Drake, who was wearing dark glasses, turned to Melody who didn’t seem to be affected by the elements. It was almost as if the wind and sand sailed right through her body without touching it. He felt a tinge of envy. “If we get any closer together we’ll all have to get married.”

“We’re huddled like a herd of zebra on the Serengeti fending off a pride of lions.”

Nobody wanted to take the lead and face the brunt of the wind and sand. As a consequence, they ran slowly with the lead changing often, the runners who were farther back being sheltered to some extend by those in front. Drake and Melody were content to stay with the group as long as they didn’t get stepped on, because breaking away in the headwind would sap their strength at a disproportionate rate.

Because they were so close to the others, they couldn’t talk about Casey. They had discussed him on the plane ride back to San Jose without reaching any conclusion as to what to do. Being quite certain that he had killed Grace and being able to prove it were two different matters. They felt frustrated and had an urge to become vigilantes, taking matters into their own hands, but as Blade had pointed out, they couldn’t do that.

Drake had barely entered his motel room when the phone rang. He was tired from running into the wind most of the day and didn’t feel like speaking to anyone. After the third ring he figured he’d better answer it.

“Drake.”

“Turn on the telly, channel seven.” Melody’s voice sounded urgent.

“Are we about to be hit by a meteor?”

“Worse. Just turn it on.”

Drake hung up and clicked on the television set. When the picture appeared on channel seven, Casey’s face filled the screen in glorious black and white. It took Drake a few seconds to understand what he was talking about. He heard the words “impeach the president” and “martial law,” before he realized that although he didn’t say it in so many words, Casey was advocating the overthrow of the government.

His pitch was that the U.S. was under attack by an unnamed “foreign power,” and that this fact had not been acknowledged by the president who had attempted to hide the truth, leading one to infer that the president was in cahoots with the enemy. If the president refused to take action, it was up to the American people to defend themselves by enabling the military to take proper defensive measures. The country needed a strong leader in a time of peril.

Casey didn’t say who this leader might be, but anyone watching the broadcast who bought what he was saying would come to the obvious conclusion. Casey mentioned his complete dedication to the well-being of his country, as exemplified by his design and production of weapons essential for the country’s defense for the past twenty years. Almost tearfully, he said that he didn’t want the efforts of all those who labored for peace at Giganticorp and in the armed forces to go to waste. In closing, he called for the country to unite, and without mentioning Winston Churchill by name, he paraphrased a few sentences from his “This was their finest hour” speech.

Drake angrily turned off the television set. What rubbish. Everybody would see Casey for the fraud he was. Twenty seconds later Melody burst into the room without knocking.

“Did you hear all that?”

Drake made a mental note to lock the door when staying at a Mom-and-Pop motel without automatic locks. “He’s lost his north. He’s gone off the deep end. Fortunately, nobody’s going to go with him.”

“Tom is.”

Tom? Tom who? It took Drake a few seconds to realize that Melody was referring to Tom the runner.

“How do you know that?”

“He was in my room.” Melody decided she’d better explain. “He was apologizing to me.”

“For what?”

“For acting boorishly. What does it matter? The point is, he agrees with Casey. He was nodding his head and making comments while Casey was speaking. Tom is a smart, well educated man. If he agrees with Casey, how many other people are going to?”

Was it true that there were a lot of people who wouldn’t see through Casey’s naked grab for power? Who would be so concerned for their own safety that they would allow it to happen? Before Drake could reply to Melody, the phone rang.

“Drake.”

“I’ll be outside your motel in an hour, driving an inconspicuous Ford sedan.”

There was a click and the line went dead. Drake stared at the receiver. Melody did too.

“Who was it?”

“Slick. He’ll be here in an hour.”

“That was fast. He must not be far away.”

“Probably in the San Jose area. He’s been investigating Casey, just like we have.”

“Casey can’t just mount a coup and take over the government. This isn’t some fifth-rate country with flies and bribable officials. We have a constitution. The president is Commander in Chief of the armed forces.”

Drake had a lot more he could say, but he didn’t want to work himself into a state of apoplexy. Slick was driving them from the middle of nowhere to the middle of somewhere in the roomy Ford sedan. At least he didn’t have his Porsche. With traffic momentarily clear in front of them, he glanced at Drake and Melody, both sitting on the bench seat beside him. “What you say is theoretically true. But what if…”

“What if what?”

“What if the armed forces don’t obey the president?”

“That won’t happen.”

“What if the generals and admirals have an allegiance to a greater god?”

“You mean Casey? Why would they?”

Melody said, “Because the president is talking about ending the Vietnam War, or at least the U.S. involvement in it. He wants to downsize the military. Even if the Cold War continues, that doesn’t get nearly the support of a hot war. The military may see a diminishing role for itself in the world.”

Slick nodded. “If Casey can manufacture another war and scare enough people along the way, there’s no telling what can happen. People may even support a temporary suspension of the Constitution.”

Even though he was appalled at the idea, Drake knew Slick could be right. “Temporary usually becomes permanent.”

Slick pulled into the parking lot of a restaurant. “My daddy told me never to eat at a place called Mom’s, but when the alternative is starvation, I think we can make an exception.”

In fact, the sign over the entrance read, “Mom’s Cafe,” and underneath it, “Good Food.” The “F” was almost obliterated. It might just as easily have read “Good Wood” or even “Good Mood.”

Once inside and seated, Drake asked, “What happens now?”

There was a pause as a waitress showed up and took their orders. They tried to order the least bad alternatives from a greasy menu. The place didn’t have a liquor license, so Drake had to settle for coffee to drink.

When the waitress left, Slick spoke. “We need to discredit Casey with the American people. To that effect, we’re leaking the story of Casey as a possible murderer, even though there’s no proof. If we do it right, the press will eat it up.”

Melody said, “What about the fact that Giganticorp manufactured the submarine?”

“That’s a tricky one, although we’ve verified that they did make it. The accusation would be that they sold it illegally to the USSR, but we haven’t been able to dig up any evidence that it actually happened that way, and we’ve got pretty good connections within the USSR. We need to do some more work on it. That’s where you two come in.”

“Can you leak that it was manufactured by Giganticorp and let the press run with it?”

“No, because it might backfire on the administration. The president could be accused of making deals with the enemy.”

“Okay, what do you want us to do?”

“You…” Slick indicated Drake, “…have one of the best connections to the military.”

“You mean my father? He thinks of Casey as his long lost son.”

“Look, I know that’s painful for you.” Slick actually looked empathetic, if a macho man wearing dark glasses is able to look empathetic. “It can also help us. Admiral Drake knows-or can find out-things that you can’t. The intelligence we’re looking for is the whole story behind the sub and the attack.”

Drake felt miserable. “My father doesn’t confide in me.”

“ Au contraire. He told you about Casey’s liaison with Grace.”

Melody tried to come to Drake’s rescue. “If we go to Bakersfield to see Admiral Drake, we’ll have to quit Running California. That will blow our cover that gets us to Casey.”

Slick smiled. “Blade doesn’t want you to quit the race. Of course, you’re getting paid to run also. There’s nothing like receiving money from the enemy, is there, as long as it doesn’t affect your judgment. We’re in luck. I’ve found out that Casey is calling a meeting of the officers on his board for tomorrow to plot strategy. He’s also asked Admiral Drake to come. He badly wants the admiral on his side.”

“Where’s the meeting being held?” Drake asked.

“Giganticorp headquarters in San Jose. Which is convenient because at the end of tomorrow’s run, you’ll still be south of San Francisco, within spitting distance of San Jose. I can furnish you a car and anything else you need.”

“So all I have to do is somehow set up a meeting with my father when he’s tied up with Casey, and then get him to tell me all of Casey’s secrets.”

Slick beamed. “You’ve got it in one.”