“Yes, two. There may be one other. I’ll go to him asking for work tomorrow and I’ll be able to tell. The first one you need to check out thoroughly is Captain Ahron of the Fishing Fool. He’s about thirty-five, works hard, isn’t the best fisherman in port, and lets his deckhands get away with being lazy and sloppy. He docks on the B wharf.”
Both Murdock and Colonel Ben-Ami wrote down the name and docking area.
“The next man is probably more likely. Captain Ahron is mostly just dumb. This next one is sneaky, and I wouldn’t trust him with my maiden aunt. He’s Gabi Zekharyah. Early fifties, bald as a bowling ball, thickset, and all muscle. Hard worker, but always trying for a big deal that falls through. He thought he had a contract to supply all the fresh fish to a big chain of hotels. He needed two boats to supply enough fish. He tried to do it with one, and couldn’t meet the orders and lost the job to a competitor.
“He sails the Gimbra II, and docks near where we came in on the main wharf. He is loud, arrogant, and has a flash-fire temper. He would be my top suspect.”
“Next we check the tide charts to see when the next high tide will hit the beaches between eight and ten A.M.,” Murdock said. He explained to the colonel Captain Sartan’s theory about how such a drop would take place.
Colonel Ben-Ami used a cell phone and talked to the Israeli Coast Watch. The man on duty said there would be a medium-high tide in two days that would hit the beaches off Tel Aviv peaking at six-thirty A.M.
“Gives us time to get ready,” Murdock said. “Captain Sartan, we need to rent your boat again, to watch Zekharyah if he goes out of the harbor around midnight.”
“I can do that, Commander. Would I be in line for the reward if he turns out to be the one and you convict him?”
Murdock looked at the colonel. “There has been a forty-thousand-shekel reward offered for catching the killers,” Ben-Ami said. “That’s about ten thousand U.S. dollars. It’s been offered by several civilian groups. I think you would be considered, if we nail the man and he is the right one.”
“Not a word of this to anyone,” Murdock told the fisherman. “I bet rumors and talk spread on the dock like the mumps.”
“It does. My rental today I passed off as a look at the boat by a new buyer. That’s why we’re meeting here well outside the fishing community, and why I asked the colonel to come in mufti.”
“Just so you understand,” Murdock said. “If Zekharyah is the guy, he could simply not drop any booby traps until we got tired of watching him, if he did know we were watching.”
“No worry there, mate. My son’s a policeman. He’s told me all about those things.”
They left, each going a different direction. Murdock caught a cab, and used some of the expense money the colonel had given to him and the rest of the SEALs. The shekels felt strange and looked even weirder, but they bought goods and services.
He left the cab at the entrance to the air base, showed his papers to the guard, and made it inside.
As soon as he walked into the SEALs quarters he could sense that something was wrong. Ed Dewitt and Senior Chief Sadler had their heads together over cups of coffee. They motioned him over, poured him a cup, and Sadler scowled.
“We’ve got trouble, Commander. An hour ago we had word that Jaybird is in the Tel Aviv city jail.”
27
“In jail?” Murdock exploded. “How in hell?”
“Skipper, the men worked with the colonel on some dishy little jobs this morning checking out suppliers to the boats. It was a total waste of time. When we got back at noon, he said the men could take the rest of the day off. If anybody wanted to go into town he’d give them passes, but they had to be back by 1800. We had some expense money that we parceled out, so the guys wouldn’t be flat broke. Turns out this is an expensive town.”
“And?” Murdock said, urging him on.
“Jaybird didn’t come back. Just an hour ago we found out he’s in jail on several charges.”
“Such as?”
“They didn’t tell us, Commander.”
Murdock used a phone in the dayroom and called the colonel’s office. He wasn’t there. An aide said he might be at the officers’ club. He was. Murdock called and told him the problem.
“Yes, the talkative one. It’s happened before with some of my men. Be at my office in ten minutes in your cleanest cammies. No time for a dress uniform even if you had one. One of my aides and two of our military police will go with you. We usually have good relations with the Tel Aviv police.”
Ten minutes later at the colonel’s office, Murdock met a Captain Bildad, who arrived in a military sedan with driver.
“Commander, sorry about this,” said the captain. “If it isn’t too serious, we should be able to straighten it out. I have authorization to bring your man to our brig under military police escort. If it comes to that, I have a fund we can use to pay a fine or bail.”
“I can’t let these guys out of my sight for five minutes,” Murdock began.
Captain Bildad chuckled. “Sir, they are SEALs. We know about the dangerous jobs you do, the risks that you take. It’s only natural to let off steam once in a while.”
“Let’s hope that the city police are that understanding.” The two military policemen came in a vehicle behind the captain’s sedan. Murdock stewed about it all the way into town. Once there, he tried to relax. They were taken into a reception area, where a sergeant looked up the record and gave a folder to a police captain, who ushered the two officers and the military policemen into a conference room.
Introductions were made. Captain Ranon leafed through the report and looked up. Murdock couldn’t read his face. He was short and solid, with a bull neck ending abruptly in his chiseled face. A small crack appeared in one corner of his mouth; then his eyes took on a tiny glint.
“Commander, you’re with the U.S. Navy SEALs, is that correct?”
“Yes, sir.”
“So is this lad we have in custody, one David Sterling?”
“That’s right, sir. One of my best men.”
“He seems to be good at several things. We have a complaint here that he was observed climbing the outside of one of our older hotels. He was on the fifth-floor level sitting on a narrow ledge, talking to the pigeons and singing bawdy songs.”
“Yes, sir, that could be our Sterling.”
There was an awkward pause. “Sir, what are the charges against Petty Officer Sterling?”
The captain looked at the papers again and rifled through two or three. “One charge is peeping, looking in a lady’s hotel room, but that one is probably without much merit. The second charge is trespassing. It seems he did not have the hotel’s permission to scale the outside of the building. It attracted quite a crowd before it was over. That is a minor charge.”
“There is more, Captain?”
“I’m afraid so. The more serious charges of exposing himself in public and lewd conduct.”
“Sir, I don’t quite understand.”
“Your Petty Officer Sterling was naked during this climb, Commander. Then he relieved himself, urinating on the fifth-floor ledge.”
Murdock shook his head as the Israelis behind him grinned and muffled the urge to laugh.
“Sir, this particular man has a tendency to get a little drunk at times and when he does, his usual conduct is to climb the outside of buildings in the buff. I can’t explain it. He can’t explain it. I’m sure some psychiatrist after three or four years of probing could come up with the reason. I assure you, he’s harmless. He’s also a highly decorated member of my platoon, where he has served with outstanding distinction for four years. He’s been wounded in action three times, and has a part of a Presidential Unit Citation. He would have various military medals, but our work is covert, therefore no publicity, therefore no medals.”