“You remember the date of that event?” asked Hunt.
Jackson shook his head. “Not really. I mean, we’re running a campaign and it keeps us so busy the dates get all blurry. Congressman Foster is in and out all the time and Williamson is with him half the time.”
“Do you think anyone else might remember the date?” asked Kelly.
“Maybe Mary Ellen. Like I said, she is there almost all the time and helps keep the Congressman on track.”
Kelly and Hunt looked at each other. If she was that close to one or both of the men, it might not be a good time to bring her in. “Well, if you think of someone who might help, let us know. We may have more questions, but for now, we have what we need to proceed,” said Kelly.
“I’d like to ask you something, if I can?” Jackson blurted. His face was now a mask of concern.
Kelly knew what was coming, but smiled and said, “Go ahead.”
“Does this mean everything I’ve been working for will come to an end soon? I’ve been working with Congressman Foster for over a year and I like the guy and his politics. Is what you are looking at going to ruin all that?” Jackson asked.
Kelly reached over and patted his arm. “Look, you know I can’t say what we’re looking for, and you know I don’t really know how this will turn out. But what I will tell you is that it is a serious enough matter for us to look into it and it seriously involves the security of the United States. Quite frankly, we weren’t sure if we would get any cooperation at all tonight. Some political staffers would have just clammed up and made our job much harder. In your case, you realized how serious this might be and helped us out. Our job is to get to the bottom of all this and we will. I know I appreciate what you’ve told us. Just remember that you cannot speak about any of this with anyone. It could ruin a very serious investigation and possibly cost people their lives. I don’t think any of us really want that,” Kelly said as he reached into his pocket and gave Jackson a copy of his card. He wrote something on the back. “Here is my business card and my personal phone number on the back. If you have any questions, or it something happens that you think I should know, please call me.”
Jackson stood along with the other two men. “Thank you. I will.”
“Sorry we had to disturb your evening. Thanks for your help,” said Hunt as the two men left the apartment.
Jackson stood a moment and stared at the closed door. He looked again at the card in his hand. He had never liked Williamson, and wondered if he had gotten his boss into real trouble. He turned and made his way back to the couch. His beer was warm, but he took a sip anyway and made a grimace. Looking at the bottle, he walked back to the kitchen and got another cold one. Sitting back down, he began running things through his mind. There were thousands of things that could get a candidate in trouble. Finances, back room deals, promises to the wrong people, deals with the special interests — all could get a guy in real trouble. Then he thought about the piece of recording he had heard. ‘It could be they are pre-staging this team down there to use just in case. That’s what I might do,’ and, ‘If we go telling this guy they’re there, he might do something unfortunate. Remember, everyone is supposed to come back alive.’ Just three sentences and two voices. What could it mean? he thought. He focused on the phrase, pre-staging this team down there to use just in case. After several minutes of nothing jelling in his mind, he gave up and turned CNN back on. The story was about the American hostages and how there was still no word on their fate. Jackson bolted upright, his eyes glued to the set. It is the only thing it could be, he thought. He sat back on the couch. “Oh fuck,” he said with a sigh.
The harbor was finally quiet. The North Carolina had almost been overrun with partying islanders in every kind of watercraft imaginable. Once anchored, the boats and small craft began to circle the huge ship. Everyone wanted to see the ship, and as you got closer, the bigger it seemed to become. Many of the boaters were young. The sailors aboard the ship got a big kick out of all the bikini clad girls waiving from the boats and occasionally throwing things up to someone. The deck crew even had to come get several young people off the edge of the ship’s armor around the ship. On the North Carolina, the armor plating ended a few feet above the waterline. This left a ledge about a foot deep around the outer hull which several found was a great place to sit and drink. The crowd and the boats didn’t really start tapering down until after midnight. By three am, only an occasional boat would cruise past.
Riding on a small motor yacht, Lieutenant Carlos Romero finished his checks and got ready to ease over the side. He had been a diver for many years, always working in harbor cleanup or, more recently, to train to become what the American Navy called a SEAL. He and several others were getting very proficient in sneaking into a harbor and blowing up installations or rescuing a hostage of some sort. Tonight would be a little different. This time his orders were to place a magnetic mine against the hull of a ship. None of them had been trained on anything like this, but his superiors pointed out that this would give them such experience.
Romero felt confident. It should be about a 200 yard swim from the boat to the ship. He was told to place the mine in about the middle of the ship, set the timer and leave. The boat would circle the harbor and then he would pick it up on the way out. It was a simple plan. Because he would go in at slack water, there would be no currents to deal with. Then, when the tide started to come back in, it would actually push him into shore, not out to sea. He had trained to swim more than a mile at a time in the sea. This should be easy.
On the stern of the yacht was a door where a boat was stored. At night, and with only a sliver of a moon, it would be nearly impossible to see him dropping over the stern. Placing the mask over his face, he checked the regulator one last time, and then swiftly eased out the door and over the swimming transom on the yacht.
Conserving his air, Romero used the snorkel to cover the transit to within 50 yards of the ship, then switched to his tank and began his descent. The water in the Caribbean was clear almost all the way to the beach. Using the ship’s lights as a guide, he made his way until he felt the side of the ship, then went deeper.
Romero kept going down, farther and farther. He had though the ship might go down about 20 feet, but that point had passed long ago. At just over 30 feet, he felt the angled strake running along the bottom edge, then passed beneath. When the bottom finally flattened out, Romero was surprised to find there was little more than five feet between the ship’s bottom and the sand below. Weeds seemed to be growing up from everywhere, hampering his movement, and the bottom of the ship was almost like sandpaper from all the encrusted marine life.
Easing along, he felt a current. Strange, he thought, the tide shouldn’t be starting in as yet. The current seemed to flow around him and towards the shore. Someone must have made a mistake in the tide tables. He kept swimming under the big ship, but he noticed that the farther he swam, the stronger the pull. He stopped for a moment and reached down to make sure the mine was still in its pouch. That was when he noticed that he was being pulled along far faster than he had realized. Trying to swim against the pull, he struggled with both the weeds and the current. The effort was sapping his strength and he was getting nowhere.
Now Romero panicked. He began frantically swimming trying to break free from the now very strong current. He felt his tank bumping along the bottom of the ship. Pulling out a flashlight, he searched for some sort of handhold, but there was none. Using the flashlight with one hand only made things worse. Suddenly Romero felt himself being pulled into some large hole in the bottom of the ship. His tank caught along the edge as his feet were pulled into the hole and upward into its gaping mouth. Romero found himself stuck in the mouth of the hole. Things from the bottom were being pulled into the ship all round him. He was trapped. Slowly his arms and legs became so tired he could no longer try to get himself out. His rapid breathing ate up the air in the tanks and soon, there was no more to breathe. As the life exited his body, he went limp, freeing him from his position. His lifeless body was sucked fully into the hole.