Grant took a sip of coffee. “Maybe.” Just then he heard a car door slam. “Gotta go. I think Jack’s here. One more thing. There’s probably no need for concern, but run a background on Jack, okay? And while you’re at it, run one on his wife, Victoria. I don’t know her maiden name, but she’s British. I think Jack said she’s from St. Ives.” New spouses, especially foreign born, usually went through a security background check prior to marriage.
“I’ll head over to your office and make the necessary inquiries. If Zach isn’t in, do you want me to call him at home?”
“We need to get rolling on this, Joe.”
“Give me your contact number.” Adler scribbled down the number, then he asked, “Hey, do I need to pack?”
Grant laughed, knowing Adler was “hot to trot” for some action. “Stand-by for now, okay? Don’t forget, most of these guys are EOD, but if we get involved, I’d still rather have you at my six!”
“If the admiral okay’s it, what gear do we need?”
“Gotta be prepared for anything.”
“I get it! That means all our fun stuff for sea, air, and land, right?” Adler laughed.
“That’s affirmative!”
“Be careful, skipper.”
“Thanks, Joe. Talk to you later.” He hung up, picked up his coffee cup, then walked nearer to the door, hearing his name being mentioned.
Henley opened his office door. Grant backed up, giving Henley extra room. No words were immediately spoken between the two men.
Henley took off his tan rain jacket and hung it on a hook behind the door. He went behind his desk then sat down heavily on the swivel chair.
Grant put a foot up on the seat of a chair, resting an arm on his knee. “So, Jack, wanna talk? Guess you’ve got some questions.” He took a sip of coffee.
Henley swiveled the chair back and forth, continuing to stare at Grant. “Who you working for, Grant? What the hell’s your assignment in D.C.?”
“My boss is Rear Admiral Torrinson. We’re at NIS.” Grant swung the chair around, straddled it, then sat.
“NIS, huh? And you’re here, in England, because… ”
“I’m on two weeks’ leave, just like I told you last night. Believe me, I came to do some scuba diving. I sure as hell wasn’t expecting any of this.”
“Chief Becker called you ‘Captain’ Stevens.”
“That’s right.”
“When?”
Grant’s eyes narrowed. “You mean when did I make captain?”
“Yeah.”
“Is that important?”
“Just curious, that’s all.” Graduating from the Academy the same time as Grant, Henley felt a sudden twinge of envy.
“In ’75.”
“Went ‘up the ladder’ kinda quick, wouldn’t you say?”
“Yeah. I guess so. Take my word for it… it sure surprised the hell out of me.”
Henley put his elbows on his desk, wringing his hands. He’d stalled enough. “What happened to Derek?”
Grant reached over the chair, putting his cup on the corner of the desk. He folded his arms on top of the backrest. “What’s being discussed in this room, stays in this room, Jack. Do I make myself clear?”
Henley nodded. The look in Grant’s eyes made him think he didn’t dare fuck with this man, a man who he realized he knew so little about.
Grant relayed his conversation with Sergeant Fowley. When he finished, and before Henley could comment, he said, “Now, about that letter.”
Henley stood, then reached into his back pocket, removing a folded envelope. He walked around the desk, then sat on the edge, directly in front of Grant.
Grant sensed Henley was hesitant about turning the letter over to him. He got up and moved the chair to the side. Hooking his thumbs in his jeans’ back pockets, he finally said, “Listen, Jack, I’m really sorry what happened to your friend.” Henley didn’t respond, but kept fidgeting with the envelope.
Grant was getting nowhere fast, and with his fear that nukes were somehow involved, he wanted answers now. He needed a place to start, and he was betting it would be with that letter.
Maybe a different tactic would work. Henley needed a shove, and Grant was about to push. “I’ve gotta ask, so answer me this. Were you and this Carter involved in anything together?”
Henley abruptly pushed himself away from the desk, standing nearly toe to toe with Grant, looking up into penetrating eyes. “Where the hell do you get off even asking me that… Captain Stevens?” Henley asked loudly, while putting heavy emphasis on the word “Captain.”
Grant put his hands up and backed away. “Whoa, Jack! Don’t do this!” It was time to go on the offensive.
At 6’1” Grant was a few inches taller than Henley, and he looked down into a face red with anger. Stepping closer to Henley again, he put a finger against his chest, pushing him backwards. “And don’t give me that ‘captain’ shit! It’s still me you’re talking to. And if your ass is gonna need saving, believe me, you’ll want me on your side. So, back off!”
There was a rapping at the door. “Commander! Everything okay in there, sir?” Chief Becker asked after hearing the loud voices.
Without taking his eyes from Grant, Henley answered, “Yeah, Chief. Just a friendly discussion.”
“Okay, sir. Let me know if you need anything,” the chief responded, certain it was more than just a friendly discussion going on behind the door. He was just as certain that Captain Stevens sure as hell wasn’t at St. Mawgan for any damn tour.
Henley turned away from Grant, slapping the envelope against his hand.
Grant’s voice finally broke the brief silence. “Come on, Jack. Don’t you think it’s best if I see that before anybody else? Then we can take it from there.”
Turning slowly, and looking at the envelope, Henley finally held it toward Grant, who took it then leaned against the desk. “Am I correct in assuming that you haven’t shown this to anyone like I asked?”
“Vicki knew it was delivered. But Derek didn’t put any return address on it, so she doesn’t know who it came from.”
Grant nodded while he opened the envelope then removed a single sheet of blue-lined paper folded in thirds. Unfolding it, he noticed the writing was continued on the back. Black ink had smeared in places, obscuring some letters. He could still make out the words that looked as if they were hastily written. He started reading:
Jack:
I feel bloody awful for not telling you face-to-face, but this is the safest way I can think of without putting you or Victoria in danger. I may have gotten myself into some serious shit, and it’s too bloody late to back out. I’ll have to see it through, and then hope I’ll get what’s been promised me. It all happened fast and unexpectedly, Jack. A month ago I got a phone call from someone. He never gave me his name. He spoke English, but there was a bit of another accent I couldn’t make out. He sounded like someone’s who’s had good upbringing and schooling, though. I tried to find out how he decided on me, how he got my name. All he told me was he’d heard I knew how to drive and he needed someone who knew the roads and wasn’t afraid of speed.
What he’s asked me to do is simple. Tomorrow night I pick up a package just outside the base. I don’t have a bloody clue on what’ll be inside, and I have no intention of looking. I can’t take that chance. I’m to drive to one of the clay pits near St. Austell where I’ll meet him. That’s when I’ll collect the money he promised me. Ten thousand pounds, Jack! Do you know how bloody long it would take me to earn that much working as a goddamn custodian? Too long.
As soon as the job’s done, I’ll be on my way. Maybe I’ve told you too much, but you deserve to know why I have to leave England, why I may never see you again. I have no choice.