“Yes. Yes. Give me five minutes to get to my office.”
“All right, sir.” Grant hung up.
Adler straddled one of the chairs with his arms folded across the top. “He calling back?”
Grant nodded, just as the phone rang. “Sir?”
“Tell me, Grant. Who and how’d you find this ‘player’?” Torrinson asked anxiously.
“Victor Labeaux, sir. We… ”
Torrinson was halfway into the chair when he stopped, almost not believing what he was hearing. “Labeaux?!”
“Yes, sir.” Grant proceeded to explain how he and Adler saw the name in the rental book, and then the run-in at the harbor. “We just couldn’t catch him, sir. And we don’t know where he’s hiding. There’s one possibility where he could be, but… ”
“And what about Mrs. Henley, Grant?” Torrinson finally sat down.
“She’s home, sir.”
Another shocker for Torrinson. His voice rose as he questioned, “What?! Where the hell was she?!”
“According to the commander, she’d fallen on her way home and was knocked unconscious. Police finally found her and brought her home.”
“Is she all right?” Torrinson asked.
“She refused to go to the hospital, sir.”
Torrinson had learned to read between the lines with Grant Stevens. He leaned his head against the swivel chair, then he asked, “You didn’t quite answer my question, Grant.”
Grant walked back and forth next to the desk. “Just can’t put my finger on it, sir. But something’s bothering me. It may just be because of the commander’s earlier reaction. And I haven’t had a chance to talk directly with Victoria, I mean Mrs. Henley.”
“You planning on doing that?”
“My list of things to do just keeps growing, sir. And after seeing Labeaux, I’d say whatever he’s got planned, well, the time might be getting closer. He’s gotta be my top priority right now, sir.”
“By the way, Grant, I got the intel back on Colin Webb.”
Grant wasn’t sure he wanted to hear the report. Was he about to have more shit thrown at him? “Yes, sir?”
“It seems Mr. Webb has been living under the pretense of being Mrs. Henley’s step-brother.”
“I’m listening, sir,” Grant said, really paying attention now, especially after catching the word ‘pretense.’
Torrinson had the report memorized and relayed the information to Grant.
Grant never expected any of it but he finally got his answer. “I guess the connection’s been made, sir.”
Torrinson swung his chair around, staring out the window toward the main street. “Do you think the commander knows about this, Grant?”
“Could be, sir, but can’t be sure until I confront him.”
“Well, I’ve got something else for you to chew on,” Torrinson said. “You and Joe are on your own.”
“I take it the recommendation to bring in SIS or Interpol was shot down, sir.”
“Let’s just say there’s been a breakdown in all communication. State felt it best not to pursue the matter, mainly because we didn’t have anything specific, that it’s all assumption.”
“Am I understanding correctly, sir, that the breakdown is within our own government?”
“Maybe we’d better just let it rest, Grant. You know I can get just as frustrated as you when it comes to these matters.”
“Yes, sir. I know.”
“Well, look on the bright side,” Torrinson continued, “maybe it’s better without outside interference anyway. That’ll leave the two of you to do what you usually do best.”
“You wouldn’t mean get into trouble, would you, sir?” Grant laughed.
“Not exactly what I had in mind, but that, too!” Torrinson stood and stretched his back, then checked the clock on the corner of his deck. “I’ll try to call SECDEF and SECNAV. It shouldn’t be too late. They need to know about Labeaux. Maybe that’ll help change everyone’s attitude. By the way, do you still have that letter?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Have you talked with the local police?”
“No, sir. I haven’t.”
Torrinson could only shake his head and smile at the answer he’d expected. “Very well, Captain. Good luck.”
“So,” Adler said, as Grant dropped the receiver in its cradle, “I take it SIS is out of the picture.”
Grant nodded. “And Interpol. Freakin’ politics even with what’s at stake.”
“You gonna explain about a ‘connection being made’?”
Grant relayed everything Torrinson told him about Colin Webb.
Adler finally asked, “You think Mrs. Henley mentioned any of this to the commander?”
“Who the hell knows? But it could be the answer to why Jack’s being so uncooperative.”
“So you’re thinking he knows more than he’s saying?”
Before Grant could respond, Petty Officer Weaver knocked at the door. “Captain?”
“Come,” Grant answered.
Weaver opened the door then stood in the doorway. “Sir, Gunny Baranski’s out here; said he’d like to have a word with you.”
Grant waved the marine in. “Come on in, Gunny. Good to see you again.”
“Sorry to come here so late, sir.”
“Not a problem. Oh, Gunnery Sergeant Phil Baranski, this is Lieutenant Joe Adler.”
“Gunny,” Adler said, shaking Baranski’s hand.
Grant backed up against the edge of the desk. “Coming through the gate tonight, we noticed two guards.”
“Yes, sir. Colonel Donaldson spoke with the base C.O. He didn’t give him any info about your op, sir, just told him we had more weapons being delivered over the next couple of days and thought there should be more security.”
“Good. Now, have you got something for us?”
“I was putting the duty roster together and thought you and I hadn’t discussed anything about flight schedules, sir.”
Grant nodded. “Go on.”
Baranski handed a paper to Grant. Adler stepped closer, trying to see the information.
“Well, sir, we’ve got flights coming in twice a week delivering weapons. Thought you might have some questions.”
“Are they set schedules?” Grant asked.
“Since I’ve been here, they have been, sir.”
Adler asked, “Gunny, are the planes offloaded at the same location no matter what weapons are being delivered?”
“Yes, sir.”
Baranski explained the same procedures are followed with every weapon being delivered: Before the plane even lands, security force vehicles wait by the runway, then follow it to a cordoned off area, getting as close to the main storage bunker as possible. Then the weapon or weapons are offloaded. A security team follows the weapon until it’s secure inside the bunker.
Baranski added, “Even then, a guard is always posted within the bunker itself, sir.”
“So there’s a door beyond the entry door?”
“Yes, sir, there is. Can I take you on a tour, sir?”
“Wish we had the time, Gunny.”
Adler took the paper from Grant, scanning the type of aircraft and the weapons being delivered.
“Got ‘heavies’ coming in, Joe?” Grant asked, while he gave his back a stretch.
“Afraid so, skipper,” Adler answered, sliding his finger along the paper.
The schedule showed Monday afternoon and Thursday morning. Each aircraft was bringing in one B57 from the States. Adler pointed out that according to the markings on the paper, each weapon was five kilo.
“Excuse me, sir,” Baranski said, “but how well do you know the 57s?”
Adler looked at the marine, and in all seriousness he answered, “Let’s just say I’ve seen them up close and personal, Gunny.”
“Joe’s EOD, Gunny,” Grant explained.
“Oh, I see, sir.”
Grant jammed his hands into his back pockets and walked to the other side of the room. It was Sunday morning. There wasn’t much time left. He was sure Monday would be the day the shit would go down.