Run into Trouble (4 page)

“I wonder if a really high tide ever reaches
those houses we passed.”

Casey took in the entire beach around them
with a sweep of his hand. “This belongs to everyone. Nobody should
be allowed to build houses on the beach.”

“You mean because of the danger that they’ll
be washed away?”

Houses on Malibu Beach, north of Los
Angeles, were periodically damaged during storms.

“Because the beach belongs to everyone.”

Casey was repeating himself. Drake decided
to test him. “According to California law, the part of the beach
below the mean high-tide line does belong to everyone. The part
above that is private property where it isn’t a government-owned
recreation area.”

“The boundary line between public and
private property should be at least an eighth of a mile
inland.”

Melody laughed. “Based on my observations so
far, I would say it’s a little late for that.”

Casey looked up as if searching the heavens
for some kind of truth. “Is it?”

Casey stayed with them as they ran along the
isthmus between the bay and the ocean. They ran on the silky white
sand instead of the pavement of Silver Strand Boulevard because the
softer surface was easier on Drake’s back.

“Unidentified vehicle at nine o’clock.”

The other two followed Melody’s pointing arm
and saw a jeep coming across the sand at an angle to cut them off.
She turned to Drake. “Do we need to take evasive action?”

Although what evasive action they could take
without weapons, in the middle of the beach, Drake didn’t know.
They certainly couldn’t outrun the jeep. They stopped running and
watched it approach. Melody moved away from Drake so that they
wouldn’t present an easy target. Casey watched the jeep too, but
didn’t seem to be alarmed.

The driver wore a fatigue uniform, and Drake
concluded he must be a naval officer. He relaxed a little. As far
as he knew, the navy didn’t have anything against him.

The jeep stopped beside them, and the
officer bid them good morning. When they responded in kind, he
said, “There may still be unexploded shells on this part of the
beach from training exercises. For your own safety I recommend that
you run on the road.”

“No problem.” Casey smiled at the officer.
“We’ll do that. We don’t want to get blown up.”

The officer thanked them and drove away.

Casey turned his smile on Drake and Melody.
“False alarm. I told you I’d protect you.”

Drake noticed that he took a large
handkerchief out of his waistband and wiped the sweat from his
forehead.

CHAPTER 4

The San Diego-Coronado Bridge opens today,
Sunday, August 3, 1969. It has a distinctive curve and soaring
sweep and is the first structural conquest of San Diego Bay,
joining the Island of Coronado and City of San Diego. The bridge is
2.1 miles long and has a vertical clearance of approximately 200
feet, so that the tallest ships can pass beneath it.

***

A crowd had gathered in the park near the
entrance to the San Diego-Coronado Bridge to watch the opening
ceremony. A platform, covered with red, white, and blue bunting,
was set up with seats for Coronado and San Diego city officials.
They took turns praising themselves for constructing this
magnificent structure.

Fred had herded the Running California group
into an area near the platform. Drake, who wasn’t much for
speeches, tuned out the droning from the platform and looked at the
other people. Many of them were dressed in shorts and T-shirts. The
first traffic allowed on the bridge would be pedestrians—runners
and walkers. After several hours, the bridge would be closed to
pedestrians and opened to vehicle traffic. Drake thought it was a
shame that a walkway hadn’t been included on the bridge so that
pedestrians could use it all the time.

Drake’s attention was brought back to the
platform because the speaker mentioned the name Casey Messinger. He
said that Casey had been instrumental in arranging the run/walk
that was to take place before the bridge opened to vehicle traffic.
He called Casey up to the platform. Casey bounced up the temporary
wooden steps to cheers and applause from the enthusiastic crowd,
still in his running uniform, shook hands with the official who had
introduced him, and went to the microphone.

With a big smile on his face, he raised his
arms, as if proclaiming a great victory. “Isn’t this a glorious
day?”

Affirmative shouts accompanied more cheers
and applause.

Casey waited for the noise to quiet down
before he started speaking again. He said how pleased he was that
the bridge had been built. Although he didn’t take credit for
building the bridge, he had a way of speaking that made it sound as
if the whole thing had been his idea. He talked about how everybody
here would get to know the bridge personally by covering it on
foot.

Then he talked about Running California.
“This is the perfect day to start a run of the California coast by
going over our brand new bridge. I’d like you to meet the ten teams
competing for the prize of a million dollars. Will the runners
please come up on the stage?”

Drake hadn’t expected this. Apparently the
other runners hadn’t either. They looked at each other, each one
unwilling to lead the way. Finally they started toward the
steps.

Melody put a hand on Drake’s shoulder. “I
expect we’ll have to get used to this sort of thing. Casey wants to
get as much publicity as possible.”

In their former lives together they had
shunned the spotlight and lived in the shadows. This was a big
change. Melody went up the steps behind the other runners, followed
by Drake who went slowly and tried to keep the pain of the ascent
from showing in his face. He wondered what the crowd thought about
the bandage on his face and the cuts on his arms and legs. He heard
enthusiastic cheers.

Casey spoke again after the cheers died
down. “We hope to do this run every year. Perhaps in the future
some of you will be part of it. I won’t take the time to introduce
all the runners by name, but I’d like to mention two of them. The
first is Tom Batson, the only Californian to ever win the Boston
Marathon.”

More cheering. Tom raised his hand.

“The other person I’d like to mention fought
in the Korean War. He was awarded the Silver Star for gallantry in
action. Since that time he has been working to preserve our freedom
in a capacity that I can’t talk about here. Rest assured that he is
a real hero. Oliver Drake.”

He pointed at Drake. Drake saw this coming
when Casey mentioned the Korean War. He didn’t want to be cheered
for being a hero. He was just doing his job. But the crowd was
yelling. He felt awkward and wanted to hide.

“Raise your arm and smile,” Melody hissed in
his ear.

Drake reluctantly raised his arm as cheers
engulfed him. Photographers snapped his picture. The Korean
conflict, although not widely popular, at least had the advantage
of being over, something that couldn’t be said about Vietnam.

Again, Casey waited for the cheering to
subside. “Incidentally, Drake—he likes to be called Drake rather
than Oliver—didn’t receive his broken nose in combat.”

Titters from the audience.

“He’ll be fine in a few days. I have one
more announcement, and then we’ll cut to the ribbon cutting
ceremony.”

More titters.

“I think this is the ideal time and place
for me to announce that I am going to be a candidate for the United
States Senate from the great state of California, running as an
independent.”

***

Hundreds of runners and walkers thronged the
bridge. Drake and Melody hadn’t started with the first group of
runners, because Drake knew he couldn’t keep up with them. Now they
were trapped within a large mass of slower joggers. This was fine
with Drake, whose back hurt from the effects of the day’s
exertions. He wanted nothing more than to be flat on his bed at the
hotel.

They didn’t speak until the space around
them grew large enough so that they were able to talk without a
dozen other people hearing every word.

Melody spoke first. “Surprise, surprise. Yon
Casey is ambitious. I
thought
he had a lean and hungry
look.”

“I think you’re misquoting your bard, but in
any case, I don’t like the implication that Tom and I are
supporting him.”

“And the reference to your secret activities
was out of bounds. He could get us into trouble.”

“This whole thing smells like rotten
fish.”

“Do you want to drop out now?”

Drake considered. “There’s something going
on here that’s below the surface. I’d like to stick around and try
to find out what it is, if possible. Let’s see if I can still move
in the morning. Are you game to continue?”

“Always.”

CHAPTER 5

From the San Diego-Coronado Bridge the
route of Running California heads north on Harbor Drive. Follow it
around the bay, south of the San Diego International Airport. Turn
right on Lowell Street and jog right on Nimitz Boulevard. Turn
right on Sunset Cliffs Boulevard and left on Mission Bay Drive.
Continue north along Pacific Beach. It’s all right to run on the
road next to the beach here rather than on the sand. Cliffs and
rock formations prevent running on the beach through La Jolla. Use
the cliff path whenever possible. Otherwise, run on the adjacent
streets. North of La Jolla run on the beach. A race official will
record the time of each team where the run ends
on the sand
at Torrey Pines Beach. Please obey all
traffic laws when running in populated areas. Race officials will
observe the runners at various checkpoints and provide water.
Runners taking shortcuts will be penalized by having time added.
Any runners not covering the entire distance will be disqualified.
Fred Rathbun has final judgment on penalties.

***

When Drake tried to get out of bed the next
morning, he knew he was in trouble. He couldn’t even sit up because
of the pain in his back. He had spent most of the night in one
position, not daring to move. He lay still for several more
minutes, wondering whether he could lie there until his back got
better. At least he wasn’t in pain when he didn’t move. The
pressure on his bladder banished that thought.

He knew that if he could roll over onto his
side, there would be less pull on his back when he sat up. He
finally managed that because he had no choice, but the pain almost
overwhelmed him. He rested for another minute and made it to a
sitting position on the edge of the bed. He grabbed the aspirin
bottle from the nightstand and swallowed several of the white pills
without benefit of water, ignoring the acidic taste.

He wondered whether he could lift his legs
high enough to pull on his pants.

***

Several of the other runners were already
eating breakfast at the Hotel del Coronado’s outdoor Boardwalk Café
overlooking the blue ocean when Melody arrived there. Drake wasn’t
among them. The air was still cool, but the sun was bright. It
would get warm—perhaps too warm for marathon runners. It was a good
thing they were running near the water where the temperature was
always significantly cooler.

She sat down at a table next to a slightly
built man named Aki—she thought he might be Japanese—and ordered a
light breakfast.

Aki grinned at her. “Good day for running. I
hope it doesn’t get too hot.”

“I hope not.”

The heat was the least of her worries, of
which the major one was Drake’s fitness to continue. He had retired
early last night, complaining of pain and fatigue. Million dollars
or no million dollars, there was no point in torturing him. If they
didn’t have a chance, why not pack it in?

“Good morning, Melody. Morning, Aki.”

Casey had a big smile on his face as he sat
down beside Melody. He was wearing a conservative business suit
with a tie this morning—Melody had to admit that he looked like a
businessman—and radiated good humor.

Melody studied his bright red tie. “I take
it you’re not going to run today.”

“Nope. Gotta get back to work.”

“Where’s your office?”

“Giganticorp’s headquarters is in San Jose.
I’ll grab one of the shuttle flights that tool up and down the
coast all day. They’re also going to make it easy for me to keep
tabs on how you’re doing.”

He ordered coffee from a hovering waitress,
glanced at the menu, and then turned to Melody.

“What do you hear from your teammate this
morning?”

“Nothing.”

“Well, I’m sure he’ll be down in a few
minutes. He looked strong yesterday. He appears to be recovering
remarkably fast.”

Casey was either a cockeyed optimist or
trying to convince
himself
of Drake’s good health.

Melody drank her orange juice while she
contemplated a reply. Did she dare challenge the mighty Casey—CEO
and self-proclaimed senatorial candidate?

“I don’t think it’s a good idea for him to
continue. He might injure himself permanently.”

When Casey didn’t immediately say anything,
Melody turned to look at him. The intensity in his blue eyes told
her that he was fighting to hold back an outburst. He took a deep
breath and a sip of coffee.

“He has to continue. He can’t quit now, not
at the start. A lot of time and expense has been put into Running
California. He has no choice.”

“Doesn’t he?”

Melody and Casey turned around and saw Drake
who had come up behind them silently. Part of his expression was
covered by the bandage, but his lips were set in a grim line, and
an unusual scowl creased his smooth forehead. He wasn’t dressed in
running clothes. He sat down laboriously in the seat next to
Casey.

Melody broke the silence. “How do you
feel?”

“Don’t ask. At least I’m up and walking,
which is more than I could say twenty minutes ago.”