“Victoria may be in danger, and you want to make a fuckin’ phone call?!” Henley shouted.
Grant’s head was pounding. “Look, Jack, I realize you’re worried, but can’t you understand our concern about the thousands of people in this town?”
Henley just stared at Grant, not responding. Right now he didn’t give a shit about anyone else except his wife.
Grant turned and opened the door. Only two men were in the EOD office, both on duty. Everyone else left for the evening.
When the three officers entered, the petty officers stood. “Evening, sirs.”
“As you were, gentlemen,” Grant said, giving a cursory nod, then he turned his attention to Henley. “Jack, why don’t you give your brother-in-law a call while we talk with the admiral? Tell me what you find out.” Henley just watched the two men disappear into his office.
Adler closed the door behind him. His question to Grant was more of a statement. “You don’t think there’s gonna be anybody at that house, do you?”
“I’d be surprised otherwise,” Grant answered, glancing at his watch. He picked up the phone and dialed the number for NIS.
“Admiral Torrinson’s office. Petty Officer Phillips.”
“Zach. Captain Stevens.”
“Afternoon, sir!” the red-headed Phillips responded.
“Is the admiral available, Zach?”
“He’s over at State, sir. Secretary Freedman requested a meeting.”
“It’s important, Zach. Any way to patch me through?”
Phillips nodded to himself. “Wait one, sir.”
Adler hooked his thumbs in his back pockets and walked to the window. Nukes! Not a pleasant thought.
Grant leaned back against the edge of the desk, crossing one foot over the other. With his head down, he tried to piece together what they learned so far. It wasn’t much. He wondered if Secretary Freedman would accept the little he did have.
Grant never met the Secretary, but only heard occasional scuttlebutt from his two friends in the Secret Service. Freedman was impatient, demanding, and egotistical. When he was appointed Secretary of State, Washington “buzzed” for weeks. He had yet to face a crisis… political or otherwise. This might just be the time.
Grant wasn’t sure what to expect during the coming conversation.
Zach came back on the line. “Sir, I’m patching you through to Secretary Freedman’s office.”
Grant finally heard Torrinson’s voice. “Captain?”
“Yes, sir.”
“I’m here with Secretary Freedman, Grant. SECDEF and SECNAV should be arriving shortly.”
“Sir, I still don’t have a whole lot of information, but I think it might be time to bring in SIS.”
“Let me put you on speaker, Grant.”
A moment later, Grant heard, “Captain Stevens, this is Secretary Freedman.” Freedman kept his eyes on his cigar as he rolled it between his fingers.
“Afternoon, sir.”
“Do you have anything to report, Captain?”
“Not much, sir, except I think I’ve identified a couple more players.”
“Are they major players?” Freedman asked, as he glanced at Torrinson.
“Sorry, sir, but I don’t believe so.”
Freedman shook his head in disappointment, as Torrinson took over the conversation. “Grant, you mentioned something about SIS.”
“Yes, sir. I know I don’t have a lot to go on, but I think they’re the ones who might be able to assist in making identifications.”
“Are you suspecting any group or specific individual?”
“Well, sir, I may be reaching here, but considering the situation between Northern Ireland and England, we may have to look at the IRA.”
Torrinson leaned back, mulling over Grant’s suggestion. It was well known that U.S. and Libyan sympathizers supplied arms and money to the Northern Ireland cause, but to suspect the IRA of using nuclear weapons was indeed a stretch.
Freedman stuck the unlit cigar in his mouth, gnawing on the tip. Letting it dangle from the corner of his mouth, he questioned, “Captain, what are your thoughts about the Libyans being somehow involved?”
“Well, sir, there’s always that possibility, but right now I’m going with the IRA. Can’t deny Libya might be helping with the financing, and we know they want nuclear technology, but… ” Grant slowly shook his head. “Sirs, I just don’t have enough intel to answer with any positive conviction.”
Before there were comments, Grant said, “Admiral, Mr. Secretary, it may be time to consider the consequences. There are thousands of people here in Newquay, residents and tourists alike, and that’s not counting the small hamlets within only a few miles of St. Mawgan.”
As Grant waited for a response, there was a knock at the office door. Adler opened it seeing one of the petty officer’s. Grant looked at the two as he finally heard Freedman ask, “Captain, are you suggesting a total evacuation of that area?”
Adler closed the door and stepped near Grant, whispering, “Fisherman found a body.”
Grant covered the mouthpiece. “Get details.” Adler nodded then left.
“Captain?” Freedman said louder.
“Sorry, sir, but we just got a report that a body’s been found.”
Torrinson spoke up. “Grant, I suspect you have some additional details to share.”
“Uh, yes, sir.” Grant proceeded to relay all the information about the boat and the two individuals he saw at the harbor, adding information about the trip to the debris site.
Then it was time to bring up Commander Jack Henley. He decided to keep to himself his own concerns regarding Henley’s possible involvement. He still didn’t have proof. “Sirs, I’m worried about Commander Henley.”
Both the Secretary and Torrinson didn’t like the sound of that. “Go on,” Torrinson replied.
Grant described Henley’s depth of worry concerning his wife, ending with, “We don’t know where she is, sir.”
Torrinson replied, “You’ve got a lot of different directions to go, Grant.”
“I know, sir. Have to find out about that body first. Depending what we learn, Joe and I might be heading to St. Columb Major to check out the brother-in-law’s place. Oh, sir, is it possible to have someone run a check on that guy? My fault; should’ve done it sooner.”
“Give me his name,” Torrinson said, jotting down the information. “When I get the report, where should I contact you?”
“Tough answer, sir. Maybe just leave word here. We’ve got radios and Chief Becker has the frequencies. Joe or I will try and check in from wherever we are.” Grant ran a hand over the top of his head, feeling frustrated and worried.
Secretary Freedman broke in. “Captain, I’ll talk with the president about SIS getting involved. If that happens it’ll probably be someone from their MI6 division. And Captain, you realize that division doesnot exist.”
“I understand, Mr. Secretary.” Grant smiled to himself, thinking about another group — SEAL Team Six. They didn’t exist either.
Chapter 13
Shops along Fore Street were busy. Tourists hustled in and out, carrying recent purchases. Small children had their noses pressed against storefront glass, pointing to toys and local souvenirs. Restaurants were overflowing, inside and out. Some patrons carried their dinner with them: fish ‘n’ chips wrapped in “cones” made from newspaper, perfect for absorbing grease.
Pubs were just as crowded. Customers stood under awnings or sat at small tables covered by umbrellas.
A steady flow of traffic moved at a slow pace. Parking along the main, one-way street was a problem. With only a few parking lots available, congestion was common.
Henley was driving the van with Grant in the passenger seat and Adler in back. Adler commented on the traffic. “At this rate, maybe we should’ve walked, skipper.”