Catamaran debris, pieces of bodies, clothing, fuel, floated near them as they bobbed around in the water. “Let’s get the hell away from this shit,” Grant said, pushing the debris aside.
Once they swam clear of the debris field, Grant undid his utility pouch, held it above the water, and took out the flare. Just as he lit it, the sound of a chopper made him and Adler look overhead. Norris and Taylor, after hearing the explosion, and seeing the smoke and fireball, headed to the extraction site, hoping Grant and Adler were waiting.
Taylor was on his knees, leaning out the cargo bay. He finally spotted the two officers signaling and waving their arms. “They’re okay!” he said into the mouthpiece.
Norris guided the chopper down to the designated height, then held it steady. Taylor shoved the rope ladder over the edge. He held onto a safety line, keeping an eye on the two swimmers, ready to give instructions to Norris.
The bottom of the ladder touched the water, then disappeared just under the surface. Backwash from the chopper’s blades caused the ladder to slowly gyrate.
Adler reached for it, grabbed hold of a rung, and started climbing. He was half way up when Grant started his climb.
Adler scrambled aboard, knelt down near the edge, and reached for Grant’s hand, as he shouted, “Okay! Get us outta here!”
Chapter 18
The wheels of the chopper barely touched earth, when Grant and Adler jumped out. Running at full speed toward EOD, they didn’t give a shit they were still in their wetsuits.
Bursting into the office, Grant pushed his hood off his head and shouted, “Has anyone heard from the commander?”
Petty Officer Weaver spun around, spraying coffee across a wall and desk. “Captain Stevens! No, sir. We haven’t had any contact with the commander. No, sir!”
“Where’s Chief Becker?” Grant asked between clenched teeth, but trying not to let his frustration get the better of him. No response from Weaver. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught sight of two other petty officers behind the main door. As soon as his eyes focused on them, they jumped to attention.
Grant turned and stepped directly in front of one and then the other. He glanced at the name tag sewn to the petty officer’s green fatigue shirt. “Do you know where Chief Becker is, Petty Officer Jarrett?”
“Sir, I believe the chief went to talk with Gunny Baranski, sir!”
“Now that wasn’t so hard, was it? As you were.” Grant turned to Adler and winked.
He started walking to Henley’s office. “Marty, get Chief Inspector Townsend from CID on the phone. We’ll be in the commander’s office.”
“Aye, aye, sir!”
Adler closed the door and leaned against it. “Now what?”
Grant pulled the zipper of his wetsuit down a few inches. “I’d like to get outta this damn wetsuit!”
“Totally in agreement!” Adler laughed.
“Captain Stevens?” Weaver called from behind the door, with no intention of entering the room. “Chief Inspector Townsend’s on line one, sir.”
Grant put his hand on the receiver. “Joe, give Gunny Baranski a call. Get Becker back here, and have him bring Gunny with him. Oh, and Joe, have somebody get a couple of towels.” Adler nodded and left.
Grant picked up the receiver. “Chief Inspector Townsend?”
“Yes, Captain Stevens.”
“Sir, before you give me the report on the rental houses, I’ve got some important news.” Grant proceeded to tell Townsend about the catamaran, where they found it, and the number of men on board.
Townsend scribbled on his notepad, trying to keep up with Grant’s description, finally asking, “When did this happen?”
“Just past noon, sir.”
“Do you have any idea who those men were? Why the explosives?”
“I’m sorry I wasn’t authorized to tell you earlier, sir, but I think they were IRA.”
That bit of information was something Townsend wasn’t expecting. “IRA?!”
“Yes, sir. We heard a couple names called out, but one in particular was ‘Callum.’ Do you recognize it, sir?”
“Son of a bitch,” Townsend said, throwing his pen on the table. “Callum Quinn. And you’re right, Captain. IRA. You don’t think there were any survivors?”
“Highly unlikely, sir. There was a shitload of explosives on board. And with the explosion, so went any possibility of an interrogation. That was our only hope to get more info on the bastard Labeaux, sir.”
“I sure would have liked to get ahold of one of them myself, Captain.”
“You might have the Coast Guard check out Lundy for debris and body parts, sir. I doubt there’s much left that would give us any more clues. Maybe contact the officials on Lundy. There might be civilians that need to be kept away.”
“I’ll do that straightaway, but with an explosion like you described, I have a feeling they were already notified. Now, putting that aside for a moment, would you like to know what I found out about the rentals?”
Grant sat up straighter. “Affirmative, sir!”
“We made visits to the first two houses. One was in Quintrell Downs, the other in Trevemper.”
“Which means you didn’t have any luck at those two. Tell me you found something or someone at the third, sir.”
“In the village of St. Newlyn East there’s an old home, ‘Tafton Manor.’ The home is set well back off a country road. My men noticed a wide set of tire tracks. They looked to be fairly fresh. So, they decided it best to stay back.”
Grant interrupted. “They didn’t want to take the chance of possibly being surprised.”
“Correct.”
“Then do you have a name for me, sir? Who rented that house?”
“Were you expecting the name ‘Victor Labeaux’ by any chance, Captain?”
“Just tell me, sir.”
“The rental contract was signed by a Mr. Virgil Lawrence, paid in advance for three months, and in British pounds.”
Grant’s heartbeat flew off the chart. “Jesus Christ! Sir, don’t you see? Virgil Lawrence. ‘V. L.’ That’s Victor Labeaux!” Grant swung around, hearing the door open. He waved Adler closer.
“Are you sure?” Townsend asked, already suspecting it was Labeaux. He so enjoyed screwing around with Yanks.
“Too much of a coincidence with the names, sir.”
Townsend finally responded, “I agree, that’s why I posted one of my men at the drive entrance. You want to come with us when we go investigate?”
“Damn right we would, sir!”
“Anything else I can do for you before that?” Townsend asked.
“Nothing I can think of, sir.”
“All right. And if I hear from my man at the house, I’ll call you; otherwise, you show up here at my office in one hour. Can you make it?”
Grant looked at his watch. “How about an hour and a half, sir?” Townsend agreed. Grant hung up.
“What happened?” Adler asked. “What’d I miss?” He handed Grant a towel.
Grant rubbed the towel over his head as he filled Adler in on the conversation.
“Captain Stevens?” Weaver said with a knock on the door.
“Come on in, Marty,” Grant replied.
Weaver came in carrying two mugs. “Thought you both might like some hot coffee, sirs.”
“Thanks, Marty. Let me know when the chief gets back.”
“Yes, sir.” Weaver left.
Adler took a sip of the hot brew then asked, “Why do you think he didn’t use that name when he rented the boat?”
“Good question, except the house rental probably needed some kind of official contract. Maybe he thought it would’ve been easier to trace with a real name.”
Adler rubbed his chin in thought. “Could be. Getting back to the Cat, skipper. I expect Labeaux doesn’t know it went ‘boom’ yet.”