The Cin Fin-Lathen Mysteries 1-3 (67 page)

We heard
some activity as we approached the camp. I motioned for Betty to circle to the
right as I went left.  I borrowed this procedure from what I had seen on
Star
Gate
, and well, it worked for them. 

The camp
was a combination of cabins on high ground and others on stilts.  On the north
side there were an array of outhouses, each in a different stage of disrepair. 
The main office was shuttered, and a big padlock adorned the door, along with a
sign indicating that the owner had gone fishing in Wisconsin and the grounds
were closed.

As I came
around the back of the office I saw a landscaping truck similar to the ones I
had seen at the airport.  I looked through the window and, yes, the keys were
in it.  I quietly circled the truck, and after I determined there was no one
close by I eased myself through the window far enough to grab the keys.  I
stuck them in the only place I could guarantee they wouldn't make noise, down the
front of my shirt.  They bit into my flesh, but they would be secure.  I eased
myself back to the ground and continued my surveillance.

In the
center of the camp was a picnic pavilion enclosed on three sides by screens and
the fourth by a brick wall that doubled as a windbreak.  Inside were several
long picnic tables and on them a couple of long boxes.  I almost didn't see the
figure lounging against the wall with his back to me.  If he wasn't smoking, I
wouldn't have seen him at all.

Okay,
that's one.  Too soon to tell much about him except that he was dark skinned. 
Moving on and keeping the brick wall between me and the landscaper, I rounded
the back of one of the stilted cabins.  I felt my phone vibrate in my pocket.  I
pulled it out, shielding my body from sight alongside a trash barrel.

I read: “2
in cabin 4”

I typed
back:  “1 and boxes in picnic pavilion – send gps to michael.”  I knew she
would have to leave the area as a phone conversation was necessary to explain
things to Michael.

"Leaving
now - u coming?"

"No -
looking for Dwayne."

"Be
careful, back soon."

I tucked
the phone away and continued to check the cabins.  I didn't bother with the
ones that had undisturbed debris covering the steps.  Even though I could see
in the windows of most of the stilted cabins, I chose instead to slide under
them and listen for movement.  I prayed I wouldn't disturb any critters that
would want to take a bite out of me.  As far as I could tell, the cabins nearest
the lake were not being put to use.  There was just the two on either side of
cabin four to check out.  I was just about to make my move across the compound
when I heard in the distance the hog starting up.  This brought the two men out
of cabin four. 

They
walked over to the pavilion, talking loudly to the cigarette smoking man who
was pointing up the drive.  Since he wasn't wildly gesturing, I knew at least
that Betty had made it up to the bike unobserved.  But they would be concerned
about the noise and where it had come from.

I squatted
in my cramped position ready to flee until the three men calmed down.  There
was an exchange between the men, and the smoking man left with one from the
cabin, leaving the other to watch over the boxes.  I saw to my dismay that they
both were walking in my direction.  I had to pick one of the outhouses to hide
behind, and the smoking man entered a one-holer while the other man continued
on back to cabin four.

It seemed
like a day had passed by the time the cigarette guy left the john.  I waited
the whole time, barely breathing.  Women train themselves to make no noise when
they hear someone else enter the ladies room - it isn't ladylike - so I was
able to go the duration undetected.  He went back to the boxes, and his replacement
left the pavilion.

I hoped he
would go back to cabin four, but instead he passed the cabin and went into
cabin five on the north side.  I used this opportunity to cross the distance
from the port-a-johns to the line of cabins.  I moved around the back of cabin
five, watching the ground carefully as one misstep would alert them to my
presence.  I heard the man dragging something around in there.  I heard some
groaning and a sharp intake of breath followed by a one-sided conversation in a
language I'd never heard.  The groaning stopped.  I heard a faint,
"Water."

A man
laughed and said in broken English.  "You think me Holiday Inn."  I
heard the crack of someone opening a plastic bottle and then, "Open."

The sound
of a man drinking until he choked confirmed that the English speaking man was
being fed the water.  So, maybe just maybe, this was where they were holding
Dwayne?  I waited until the terrorist left cabin five and entered four before
moving.

I couldn't
get in the front door because not only was the entrance in plain sight of the
pavilion but also of cabin four.  I crawled around the back and was rewarded
with a break in the skirting of the crawlspace below the cabin.  Light streamed
between the floorboards.  I could tell where chairs and tables rested because
of the blocks of shade that appeared on the crawlspace's floor.  In the north
back corner there was a long shadow.  I eased myself over until I was
underneath it.  I put my ear up and listened.  I could hear breathing. 
Whatever it was, it was alive.  I was hoping for a who and not an it.  It would
just be my luck to try and liberate an alligator.  

I lifted
my head and put my cheek against the floor and quietly hummed part of the
baritone solo from
Troika
and waited.  I was rewarded with a faint
continuation of the passage.  Okay, now that I had found Dwayne, how the hell
was I going to get him out?  The cabin's floor was laid out on two-by-six
boards, fourteen inches on center, which should have allowed me enough room to
enter the cabin from below if I were able to pop a couple of boards up and
out.  I quietly poked and prodded at the underside of the boards until I felt
one give, and I smiled - as it only takes one.

I had no
upper body strength, and I couldn't pound it up with anything as the noise
would have alerted the men in cabin four.  So I laid down and placed my booted
feet on the weak spot and used my thigh muscles and pushed upwards.  I used a
bit too much strength as the board popped off the beam and clattered to the
floor.  I quickly turned around to prepare to leave in a hurry, but the sound
of
Troika
reassured me that I hadn't been found out.  I went to work on
the boards on either side.  When I had made a hole big enough for my head to
get through, I got up and cautiously raised my head through the space and
looked around.

Dwayne was
bound with duct tape, unoriginal but effective.  He had two black eyes and his
arms were covered with tiny burns.  “Cigarette Man,” I thought.  He rolled
sideways and made eye contact with me.  I pointed to my eyes and the door, and
he nodded, understanding that he would have to be the lookout.  He motioned
with his head to the right of me.  I turned and saw an explosive device just
sitting there five feet from the boards I was banging on.

Just then
my phone vibrated. I sunk back under the cabin and read the text message: 
“Feds in 6 min.”

I quickly
answered: “Bomb in c5 & pavilion – Dwayne in c5 almost out.”

I fell
back and started to remove as many boards as I could.  I squeezed myself up
through the hole, ignoring the frantic vibration from the cell phone.  I
crawled over to Dwayne and pulled my knife from my boot and released his bonds.

"We
have to move fast," I whispered as I rubbed his limbs to help get the
circulation going.  "Can you fit down my rabbit hole?"

"I'll
have to fit," he said hoarsely.

"K.
Follow me and be quiet," I hissed as I dropped down into the crawl space.

Dwayne
ripped up his right shoulder on the way down, but he made it and was on my
heels as I crawled out into the sunlight.  We crawled, hugging the building
until we could see the compound.  I shook my head as I saw Cigarette Man
standing outside the pavilion.  I backed up and saw no other way for us to go
but into the swampy wooded area that was between the highway and us.  The other
alternative was the lake.  I decided I would rather take my chances with snakes
than a bull alligator. 

I felt a
vibration.  I quickly opened my phone and read: “Get out.”

I returned
it with: “Am out.”

It was
then that all hell broke loose.  I heard vehicles coming down the drive and a
helicopter overhead.  I looked back through the trees, still moving in the
direction of the road, when cabin five blew up.  The blast shattered the woods
behind us, and the force hurtled Dwayne and I off the ground.  Dwayne hit a
Cypress tree, me the water.  Good thing for my mermaid training because it took
me awhile to figure out which way was up.  When I broke the surface I saw Dwayne
slumped against the tree.

"Don't
be dead, don't be dead," I cried as I crawled over the roots to the tree.

Dwayne had
one hell of a lump on his forehead, but he was breathing.  I worried about his
neck because his head didn’t seem to be supported.  Nothing at the two weeks I
spent in Girl Scouts prepared me for this emergency.  Feeling helpless, I
reached in my pocket and dug out my phone, hoping it had survived the soaking. 
It was still working.  I quickly typed: “Alive in woods n of c5 – Dwayne alive
but bad.”  I sent it and waited impatiently.

My head
was pounding, and my body felt like post-labor with Alex - the kid had to come
out kicking.  My hearing was non-existent in one ear, and the sounds I received
from the good ear were muffled.  I heard whap whaps and thumps, but where they
came from I had no idea.  I kept looking around me, more worried about swamp
things than escaping terrorists.  My phone finally vibrated. 

It read:
“Do u need ambulance?”

"Like
duh?" I typed: “Yes – Dwayne’s neck – I no hear.”

I thought
a minute and looked at the message log of the phone.  I assumed that it was
Betty texting me, but as I scrolled down I saw that it was Michael.

I sent him
another message.  “Find me – hurry I have to pee.”

It didn't
take long to get another message: “Urgency noted – make some noise – can’t find
you.”

I tried to
get Dwayne to a more comfortable position as I started calling.  To me it
sounded like I was under water. "Over here, I can't hear you, sure hope
you can hear me!"  I picked up a small piece of debris and smacked it
against the tree.  I chanted, I sang, all the while smacking the tree.

The phone
vibrated again: “They hear you – request another song though.”

"Smart
ass."  I kept making noise until I saw the first rescuer.  I sat back down
and waited patiently while they threaded their way over the submerged roots of
the Cypress.

The EMT
was talking to me, but I motioned that I couldn't hear.  I pointed to Dwayne
and pantomimed that he hit the tree, and I patted myself and pointed at the
murky water.  I grabbed my neck and pointed to Dwayne.  The EMT understood, and
when his partner reached us, they put a brace around Dwayne’s neck and strapped
him to a board, before attempting to move him.  I followed them through the
woods and into what was left of the campground.

Betty came
running up to me and picked me off the ground with her hug.  I didn't know what
she was saying.  I tried to communicate but was too distraught because I
couldn't get over the fact that not only did they blow up cabin five but the
port-a-johns too!

An EMT
looked me over before allowing me to follow Betty who had located a real bathroom
in the office.  We didn't need to worry about the padlock as the blast blew the
front off the building.  The water that came out of the sink was a bit
brackish, but it served its purpose as I was able to clean some of the swamp
water off my face.

They
assured me my hearing would return.  My eardrums were just bruised not
shattered.  I still couldn't hear the feds, and we had to communicate on paper.
 I asked about the terrorists, and I found out that one had died in the blast,
one was shot and wounded in a gun battle, and the last one they found cowering
in the landscape truck.  He appeared to be looking for the keys. I started
laughing as I reached in my shirt and dug out the truck's keys and laid them on
the table.

They
looked at me funny after that.  I felt sorry for them.  Dwayne was unconscious
and was taken away in an ambulance.  I wanted to go along, but the feds still
wanted to talk to me.

While I
waited I texted Michael: “School? Airport?”

He sent
back: “School fine – airport being secured by feds.”

I asked:
“Can we get Harry sent away to Gitmo?”

He
replied: “Harry & Dave on way to you - sorry.”

I closed
my phone and put it back in my soggy pocket.  I just couldn't get a break.

Harry and
Dave arrived by helicopter.  “Prima donnas,” I said to no one in particular,
and I winced as Harry ran over and hugged me.  Dave looked me over and
suggested I hop on one foot to get some of the water out of my ears.  I gave
him the finger.  He just smiled weakly and went to find the agent in charge to
straighten some things out.

I asked
Harry if they caught the other terrorists, but all he mouthed to me was
"Later."

I felt
another onslaught of wind and another helicopter landed at the water's edge.  This
one had some kind of seal on the side of it.  I couldn't see that far so I
assumed it was a big cheese.  A gray-suited man jumped out, followed by two
black-suiters.  He approached the fed in charge and asked him something who in
turn pointed over at me, and I could see him motioning that I couldn't hear.

I squeezed
Harry's hand as the man approached.  He handed me a card.  Edward Jones,
Homeland Security, Miami.

I looked
at him and said, "I thought you'd be taller."

He wasn't
amused.  Harry was, but Harry understands me. 

"Sorry,
a bit shook up here.  I can't, you know, hear."

He
motioned to a black-suit who took out a laptop computer and sat next to me to
type as Mr. Jones dictated.

"I’ve
talked to Father Michael Williams and Sergeant Buslowski so you don't have to
cover that ground.  I’ve a couple of questions for you.  Do you feel up to
it?"

"Sure."

"The
man they took away in the ambulance, what connection is he to this cell?"

"Hostage,
I think.  I found him taped up next to the bomb in what was cabin five.  He
runs a toy drive for the migrant children over at the Pahokee School."

"What
were you doing here?"

"Looking
for Dwayne, the hostage."  I glanced at him and asked, "Sir, there
are more terrorists than these three.  And there must be someone local in
charge of this cell.  Did you pick anyone else up?"

"If
we did, I couldn't tell you."

"Why?"

"You're
not secure.  In fact, I'm trying to not throw you in jail right now for…"

"Rescuing
a hostage and leading you to a cell of terrorists?"

"You're
quite the hot dog, Ms. Fin-Lathen.  Just because the Brits let you run wild
doesn't mean we will."

"Hot
dog. You called me a hot dog.  Listen up, Mr. Jones, I’m an American, and I may
have found myself in a couple of scrapes, but I couldn't sit back and not
defend my country.  They were going to hurt my friend and maybe some of the
children he cares for, and you wanted me to sit home and knit?"

He glared
at me a moment and motioned for his aide to get up, so I guess the meeting was
over.  I called over to his retreating form.

"Can
I go home now?"  I waited until Harry nudged me.  He helped me up and led
me over to an arriving Sheriff's Department car.  I got in the back with
Harry.  I pulled out my phone and typed where he could see: “Betty get away?”

Harry
smiled and took the phone: “Yes.”

I
retrieved the phone and sat back and closed my eyes.  I was glad I gave her my
concealed knife in the bathroom and warned her that she was still carrying a
concealed weapon in her waistband.  I thought it wise if she had an opportunity
to fade away, to do so.

Not that I
advocate getting injured while investigating a case, but it sure saved a lot of
explaining.  It was just too much trouble to communicate with me, so people
left me alone.  I couldn't talk on the phone to anyone, so Harry took the
scalding I would have gotten from Noelle.  Any further explanations to the
authorities, well, that was left to Dave to explain. 

My
contribution was to heal.  I had an appointment with a hearing specialist on
Monday to make sure things were mending.  I started to hear more and more as
the evening progressed, but I kept it to myself.  After a hot shower that
furthered my split-end population and giving my body a once over in the mirror
(contusion city), I actually felt better.  I looked like hell, but I felt
better.  It could have been the pain pills Harry picked up from the pharmacy or
the fact that I heard Dwayne had regained consciousness or a combination of
both.

My clothes
and my boots were unsalvageable.  They reeked by the time we got home.  Leather
and swamp water didn't mix too well.  It became stiff, and I had to extract a
couple of dead minnows from my pockets along with my cat’s-eye marble. Ew!  I
sat down as I bagged my boots for the trash.  Two pairs of footwear gone.  Did
this mean the case was over?  Maybe for me.  I hoped, but there were still
people and weapons to be rounded up, so it wasn't over yet.  They found two
bombs complete - with the exception that the “juice” wasn't connected - in the
picnic pavilion.  I imagined these were for the buses. 

Harry told
me that they also found vests and AK47's.  I didn't know what an AK47 was nor
did I know what “juice” meant, but I imagined that this was enough to seriously
hurt some people.  There was something that Harry wasn't telling me.  I felt
that he was working on the theory that if I didn't ask, it wouldn't be lying. 
So, I had to ask.

"Does
Homeland Security know about the priests?" I asked.

He shook
his head no.

"Where
are they?"  I didn't wait for his answer.  I already knew it, because I
would have done the same thing were I able.  "Plan A?"

Harry
nodded.

"I
guess it makes sense, but the feds were all over that airport.  Unless…" 
I looked up at him.  "They're using another airport.  But where?" I
asked, moving to the computer.  "Tell me which ones the feds are at and
which one the priests are at."

Harry
typed frantically and gave me a list.  I looked it over and it seemed complete.
 "Wait, what about Belle Glade?"

"Dave
said it was too open, the planes, mostly crop-dusters.  Nowhere to hide their
gear."

The answer
hit me harder than the cabin five blast.  I grabbed Harry.

"It's
already on the plane!  They aren't going to jump out of planes or drop bombs. 
They’re going to poison the crowd.  Belle Glade has always been Plan A.  We
keep thinking that they’re running around hilly-nilly looking for
opportunities.  These guys are planners, and they have an inside man.  Speaking
of which, has anyone talked to Dwayne yet?"

Harry was
looking at me slyly.  "You can hear, can't you?" he accused. 
"How long?"

"Last
few hours, I'm up to 80 percent.  Everything I hear is accompanied by a high
ringing otherwise.  Let's get back to this.  What about Dwayne?"

"Don't
think anyone can get to him because of the feds."

"A
priest could, a fully decked out priest could."

"But
the chaplains are all over the county.  They know Michael at the hospital and
he’s not too mobile, because of the crutches."

"But
not Father Harry O'Rourke."  I smiled as I saw the actor in Harry come out
to play.  "Call Betty, have her bring Michael and his priest duds out
here."

"I'll
try to track down Dave and get the locals to keep an eye on the airport."

Dave
picked up his cell on the second ring.  "Hello," a hoarse voice
croaked out.

"Dave,
this is Cin."

"How
are you feeling?"  His voice was distant, but I could hear him.

"I
can hear a bit better now and the bods a wreck.  You sound all gravelly to
me."

"That's
because I've been talking nonstop, explaining things," he said testily.  "Feds
have to hear it over and over again."

"You
with them now?"

"I'm
at my office.  They aren't in the room at the moment."

"Good.
Let me run this by you.  I'm sure you already thought of this but..."

"Go
ahead," he said gruffly.

I caught
him up on the crop-duster scenario, and he seemed receptive to the idea but
brought up that the group over in Belle Glade was a close-knit cracker group.

"I
know, but there is a local involved here.  He may have ties out there.  Did the
feds get any information out of Dwayne or the captives?"

"If
they did, they're not telling me.  I'm kind of in the doghouse here, but not
actually.  They aren't team players.  They'll use our resources, but they won't
let us in on any of the decision-making.  My boss is livid.  My wife is livid. 
My life is crap."

"You
stopped a tragedy.  If they would have gotten the buses…"

"Feds
look at it like Michael and I almost got them blown up.  You're not high on
their list either."

"Must
have been the short crack."

I almost
heard Dave laugh.  "Harry told me about that.  You have to learn to be
more cooperative, my dear.  Damn, I can see the black-suit twins coming in the
outer office.  You take care, and I'll look into Belle Glade for you."

"Thanks,"
I said to a dead line.  He must have ended the call before the suits came in.  "Oh
Harry," I called.  "When you're off the phone, meet me in the
bathroom."

"Why?"
he called out from the den.

"Because
we have to change you a bit, only Gabriel Byrne gets away with the handsome
priest look," I said as I searched through my cabinet and came up successfully
with a hair frosting kit from my pre-midlife crisis days.