Thin Blood Thick Water (Clueless Resolutions Book 2) (23 page)

Max would have been embarrassed if he had challenged the little old lady with a gun pointed at her and she could have seriously overreacted.  On the other hand, since she apparently hadn’t heard him drive up, or open the automatic garage door, he guessed that she probably wouldn’t have heard him ordering her to stop anyway.
“Just as well,”
he thought.

Against the backdrop of the recent perilously close calls in Nova Scotia, Max’s episode with Chip tonight, plus Maggie’s ‘adventure’ in Hartford earlier in the day, reaffirmed what was becoming an all-too-frequent repeating series of events in their lives that seemed to be spinning out of control. The vision Max had of applying his and Maggie’s combined business expertise to provide a profitable and predictable foundation on which to base their future together, was transforming into a muddled, nightmarish dream. He was aware that there could be some risk when he invested his efforts and substantial funds into becoming a USAP Partner, but what was evolving was not the lifestyle Max had envisioned.

Maggie hadn’t reacted outwardly on the same disillusionment…yet.  He had come to know Maggie as a reliable and supportive person. He appreciated and relied upon her more and more, but Max also knew that the ‘fuse had been lit’ and it was only a matter of time before she would explode.

He jogged up the stairs to his apartment and quickly packed his clean clothes. After stuffing his un-laundered togs in a plastic bag he checked his drawers for valuables. He loaded those items, along with his notes and attaché case, into the car trunk next to his and Maggie’s hardly-used, new golf clubs. Max’s car had been parked in the garage unused, since a late-August weekend. Finished with loading the trunk he hesitated, reflecting back to those enjoyable days when he and Maggie were practicing golf techniques learned in brief lessons they had taken during the summer. That was a much more tranquil period in their relationship, it seemed.

Max closed the trunk, started the car and backed it out onto the driveway turn-around. With the auto garage door closing, and with the screeching of tires along the Lakeside laneway, he was homeward bound. He texted Maggie to ‘expect him sometime in the early morning’, not wanting to wake her or worry her, while he drove to East Wayford through the foggy darkness.

Max Hargrove was beginning a late-night drive from his company-provided apartment in the village of Lakeside, New York, to his home base in East Wayford, Connecticut. He was driving on a local road near Ithaca, after having left Lakeside ten minutes earlier. Patches of ground fog hovered at a few feet above the pavement. This rendered the headlights nearly useless except for clear patches that alternated every fifteen yards, or so. Max was driving at a slow pace, mostly to avoid any wild animals which he might encounter as they crossed the roadway.

As he was rounding a bend in the road, an on-coming vehicle came speeding through a fog patch and veered out of Max’s path just in time to avoid a collision. Thankfully, he was able to swerve right and then back on track as the long sedan zoomed past. He made a mental note that the dark colored car looked like an airport service vehicle, and he thought it odd that anyone would be traveling to or from the airport in Ithaca at this hour.

As coincidences would have it, unknown to Max, within minutes after he had nervously made his exit from USAP headquarters, a call was made from there to the Ithaca Airport requesting a start-up and prep for take-off, on the USAP Lear Jet. A service-car pick-up for transportation for two, from headquarters to the airport was requested. The flight destination was TBT (to be determined, later).

Once passing through the outskirts of Ithaca, and entering onto Interstate 96 South, Max was able to pick up speed. The divided highway speed limit was 65 mph and the ground fog had dissipated. Animal crossings were still a reason for staying alert but keeping the headlights set on high beam usually picked up the reflecting eyes of animals in time to slow down.

Max’s mind-set gradually transitioned from near-paranoia, to wide-ranging suspicion, to a firm resolve as his normally patient attitude had reached its maximum capacity.  He had relied on trust in the USAP mission, its operational integrity, and the Partners’ dedication to their occupational specialties. Without that trust he would not have become involved in vulnerable situations such as those that had developed within the past months, and he certainly wouldn’t have brought Maggie into it.

To be fair on the other hand, he and Maggie had left no clues at headquarters as to the what, where, and when, of their locations pertinent to the Bickford Laboratory investigation. Even though Mario and Lamar accompanied them as the investigation proceeded, or were aware of their whereabouts, there was no plan or reason to report that information back to USAP.  In spite of the lack of that information, Chip and Danyel had detected where they were being held captive and had come to their rescue at the mountainside ‘sacrifice’ scene. In doing so, they had flown through another country’s airspace, on an unregistered flight, with an unlawfully-armed civilian aircraft. They had discharged lethal, un-authorized explosive devices, and had taken the life of a Native Canadian Indian by sniper gunfire. Though the rescue was not his decision, Max was indebted for his and Maggie’s lives having been saved.

Max was, to say the least, conflicted. With trust in the USAP direction and assurance that it was authorized, he himself had twice flown the low-level, unregistered flight plans in the company floatplanes. He needed time to sort out the details of those and other recent actions which ran against his in-bred principles. He also needed to justify, in his mind, other questionable activities which were routinely practiced by the USAP Partnership team members. As a group, the Partners seemed to be accustomed to that type of clandestine activity and, most likely, had been involved with it multiple times.

Back during his military days Max would not have questioned the motivation or methods in an attempt to rescue fellow military members, and as a matter of fact he had actually participated in similar operations.  In civilian life however, except in a self-defense scenario, it was not acceptable to deliberately take a life.

Under ordinary circumstances, the Nova Scotia USAP rescue mission could be described as mercenary in nature. Max realized now, that the Universal Security Association Partnership must be operating under a very high-level ‘protection umbrella’.

The drive from Lakeside to East Wayford was long and boring, especially so during darkness, but even without the stimulating benefit from caffeine Max was far from drowsy. Such was the agitated state of his psyche. He knew that he had decisions to make. What to do…what to do?

“NEW HAVEN - EAST WAYFORD EXIT 2 miles” read the fluorescent highway indicator sign. Max focused on the present driving necessities and slowed his speed, which had gradually moved up to 81 mph. “Thank God the ‘Staties’ weren’t out with the radar,” Max said out loud to himself, referring to the Connecticut State Police Highway Patrol.  He exited the interstate highway and drove the local roads to Hargrove House Apartments. As he pulled up he noticed that the ‘Apartment Manager’ parking spot was occupied by Maggie’s car and he pulled into a ‘Guest’ spot across the parking lot.

Recollecting Maggie’s account of pulling out her gun in the Hartford parking lot, and reflecting on what he and Maggie had been through lately, Max decided that rather than letting himself in quietly and awaken Maggie, or surprise her, it would be prudent to call her first. After five rings, and before her auto-message clicked in, Maggie answered groggily, “Max, is that you?”

“I made a late-night decision to drive back. I didn’t want to call and worry you then, so I waited until I got here to wake you,” Max explained. “You can buzz me in now.”

A sleepy-eyed, but worried Maggie was somewhat relieved to see that Max was physically okay and gave him a warm hug. They had snacks with glasses of milk during the wee hours of the morning while they shared concerns regarding recent events. Possible remedies were explored but no solutions were arrived at. It was near dawn when they mutually agreed to ‘sleep on it’. The two decided to finish their discussion ‘for the time being’ and to resume it later, after a late breakfast. Before getting back to bed, Maggie called her office and left Jessie a voice mail message to ‘expect her late’.

At 8:10 AM Max’s cell phone was doing its dance to the tune of the military revelry bugle. This woke him instantly but signified an un-recognized caller. He was sleep-deprived because of his late-hour journey, followed by the after-midnight discussions with Maggie. His grogginess was so dense that he awoke, but missed the caller.  In a daze, he decided to call back to ‘whomever’ when he was more alert, and turned over to resume the sublime bliss of slumber.

Maggie was up and around preparing a hearty bacon-and-eggs breakfast for two at 9:30 AM.  By 9:50 she began rattling pots and pans to awaken Max. The metallic din served its purpose and Max stumbled into the kitchen, dressed in his robe, exactly in time for a hot breakfast and newly-perked coffee.  Once finished, and feeling exceptionally relaxed in comparison to his recent periods of stress, Max checked his cell phone for recent missed calls. He highlighted the 8:10 AM missed call and return-dialed.

“Hey Max, Don Chace here,” was the response. “I guess I was too early for you today.” Max hadn’t recognized Chace’s number but expressed his regrets for not picking up when he called, explaining that he had only slept a few hours at that point and didn’t even hear it. After some guy-speak about sleeping in, along with some good-natured kidding about his being a civilian, Chace suggested that he and Maggie meet with him as soon as possible. In recognition of Don Chace’s influential position in the F.B.I., and as a good friend, Max agreed and allowed him to set the time and place. The time was set for after lunch at 2:00 PM that afternoon and the place, not surprisingly, was Jerry’s Jug in East Wayford. Max agreed and responding to Maggie’s nod, accepted for both of them.

With the afternoon agenda decided, Maggie and Max arrived at Jerry’s for lunch at 1:00 PM and were treated to Jerry Pippin’s familiar welcome as the ‘Dynamic Duo’ upon entering the pub.

“G’day mates,” Jerry said in his anglicized Australian accent, announcing their arrival to the usual crowd of patrons. “A rare treat, seeing you two world travelers these days,” he added as he set their favorite spots at the bar with menus and dining paraphernalia. They swapped personal greetings, drinks were served, and lunch was ordered, all within 4 minutes. This typified the congenial efficiency which all patrons of Jerry’s came to expect and appreciate. The food was good, as were the liquid refreshments, although Jerry had raised one eyebrow and did a double take when ice waters with lemon and coffees were ordered.

“Turning over a new leaf at the bar are we?” was his curious reaction. Jerry’s concern was short lived when Max explained that they were expecting to be joined by Don Chace around 2:00 PM for drinks and a private conversation. An unused, former bookie parlor located behind the bar was offered by Jerry for the talk, should it become necessary. The couple thanked him for the offer and deferred to whatever their guest’s choice would be.

With the mention of Don Chace’s name, Jerry was full of questions as to his whereabouts and how he was doing. After a lengthy chat about past experiences in East Wayford involving Max, Maggie, Inspector Don Chace and former Police Chief Lou Devaro, the expected guest arrived.

Greetings were exchanged between the foursome and a booth situated in a rear corner of the lounge was Chace’s selection for seating. Drinks were ordered and the trio moved to the booth.

Don Chace was aware of Max’s position at USAP but wasn’t totally aware of Maggie’s recent involvement. He told them that he was going to give them some information concerning the Nova Scotia incidents but asked them for a fill-in on the recent experiences.

The three of them had teamed up together before and they trusted each other. Max was interested in anything that would shed light on the perplexities he was grappling with. Maggie was suspicious of Chip Chaplain for some reason unknown to Don Chace. Chace wanted to know what they knew, so that he would know where to begin. After exchanging questions and answers for a short time, Don Chace was satisfied.

“You’re going to hear some facts and some un-verified, un-official, information which might shake up your world,” Don told his pair of friends in a quiet, but ominous-sounding, tone. “I’m telling you this because you might want to take some evasive actions in order to extricate yourselves from any semblance of suspicion.

Maggie and Max were spellbound and wanted to hear more. Don wanted to witness their reactions as he spelled out his message so that he could gauge the extent of their willingness to provide a service to his cause.

For the next ten minutes Don described a North-American Continental investigation, which had been on-going for over two years, involving the United States and Canada. The U.S. Departments and Agencies of the FBI, ATF, and Homeland Security, had all been resourced. Illegal drug trafficking was the basis for the international project. Several South American countries were the locations of the illicit drug source. The routing was roundabout and entry points were on both the East and West Coasts of Canada. Transport from the Canadian entry points into the United States were through numerous points along the porous US/Canadian border, and were almost impossible to monitor completely. As a result, the investigation had been strategically focused on the Canadian entry points.

Max and Maggie were fascinated by the enormous scope of the investigation Don Chace was laying out before them. Because of the huge impact such a secretive investigation could have on inter-government relations, the pair simultaneously wondered, even without direct communication between themselves, why they were being made privy to this obviously sensitive information.

Don Chace had come to know this trustworthy and capable civilian couple under very similar circumstances, a few years back, when assisting the East Wayford police department. Right now, Don thought, there was no need to vocalize the trust that he had gained in Max and Maggie during that episode, so he simply continued with those details of current circumstances of which he wanted them to be aware. He could see the questioning looks and got to the point of their meeting.

“You’ve been working at USAP for over a year, Max, and I know that Maggie and you have teamed up on some investigative work on the Bickford Laboratory in Nova Scotia, correct?”  Chace asked both them.  Maggie and Max voiced their agreement.  “You’ve been operating under the direction of Chip Chaplain, the senior partner, and you both have a good rapport with him?” Don asked. Max hesitated with his response but Maggie didn’t hold back.

“Good rapport would not be an accurate description from my viewpoint!” she responded. “Max will tell you how Chip and I are not on the same page, if you get my drift.” Max did not deny or agree with Maggie’s outburst.

“Go ahead Don, fill us in,” Max stated. “I know that being in charge isn’t easy sometimes, and you can’t please everyone under your direction at all times, but regarding Chip Chaplain at this point in time Maggie’s instinct and mine are the same.”

Don Chace knew now by that reaction that these two upstanding business professionals could, and most likely would, be helpful in his goal to execute a strategy to bring a suspected criminal to justice. That was what Chace was all about, and he knew from experience that Max and Maggie would be excellent team players.

Don Chace had gone beyond his authority at this point, by divulging top-security facts uncovered by his departmental investigation into the Bickford Laboratory’s suspected intercontinental drug smuggling involvement.  The narrative describing the two-year study was abbreviated so as not to lose the listeners’ interest. Drugs including heroin, cocaine, and marijuana, were being transported by boat from South American venues to Nova Scotia. Connections and transfers were being made in off-shore ocean waters outside of the international boundaries. The entry points for Nova Scotia were suspected to be along its southern coastline in the general vicinity of Bickford Laboratories.

Chip Chaplain’s possible involvement surfaced during an investigation by the CRMP (Canadian Royal Mounted Police) being conducted in concert with the local Parish Police Department, into the previous accidental death of Ernest Bickford. The accident occurred inside the boathouse attached to the Bickford Laboratory guest house.

“Oh - My - God!” Maggie blurted out in startled revulsion, covering her mouth with her hand. She looked at Max as if to judge his reaction, wondering if he had known about this.

“I heard mention of Brad Charles describing the gruesome mess after the accident,” Max told Maggie, “but I had no idea it happened in that boathouse.”

Don Chace apologized.  He went on to say that he wasn’t aware of the couple having been there, realizing that they weren’t totally aware of the Bickford Lab history and that the ‘guest house’ was built as the summer home of Ernest Bickford’s parents. It was subsequently winterized and used as Ernest’s ‘home base’ when he inherited ownership of the laboratory business. Don continued to describe how Ernest spent most week days in upstate New York with his USAP Partnership position as CFO. Starting with his inheriting the business, Ernest commuted back and forth to Nova Scotia. He had the boathouse widened to accommodate a floatplane. His wife, Mahlah, soon spent most of her days there. She had Canadian Indian ancestry and, although she was born and raised in upstate New York, she spent more time in Nova Scotia than at their New York home located in Utica.

“You asked about our relationship with Chip Chaplain,” interjected Max. “Besides his being the USAP Senior Partner, and operations manager, is there something else we need to know?”  Don Chace hesitated for a moment looking back and forth between his two friends.

“I was unsure of how much you knew and how much confidential ‘bureau’ info I should pass along,” Chace responded, referencing the FBI. “But you guys and I can work on trust, I know. We’ve been there before, right?” he asked rhetorically.

“Are either of you aware of a close personal relationship between Chip and a USAP-related female?” Don asked.  Neither Maggie nor Max answered, at first.

“Do you mean Danyel Uhlman?” Max asked after a moment of thought. Almost simultaneously Maggie spoke up. “Heather Copeland, right?” she asked, referencing the head Secretary at USAP.   Don Chace shook his head.

“Mahlah Bickford,” he stated.  Maggie was stunned beyond words. She looked at Max as if to hear an explanation as to why this could have escaped their notice.  Max’s eyes narrowed as he took the information in stride and immediately began spinning images in his mind of situations at USAP over the past months. Signs of either stress, or anger, began to show as his jaw muscles popped and Maggie noticed the white knuckles showing on his hand holding the martini glass. Thinking that he might snap the stem, she rested her hand on his arm to calm him.

“Well, your reactions answer the question in my mind as to what you knew,” Chace said. “I can tell you that this situation came to light from the Ernest Bickford accident investigation and it placed Chip Chaplain under suspicion, along with Mahlah, his widow. I only recently got this information from a briefing after your girl called about your disappearance,” he told them, looking at Maggie. “The insurance company’s private investigator had turned it up, and they passed it along to the RCMP.  The insurance company still hasn’t paid her claim from a two million dollar policy, which pays double indemnity for accidental death. The question is not that he died, it is how he died,” Chace said, emphasizing ‘how’.

He went on to explain that the investigation had stalled due to the sensitive question of authority and governmental rights.  Native Canadian Indians were awarded independence and self-policing rights long ago and Mahlah Bickford, although she was genetically connected to a tribe from the Montreal region, had engineered a connection with the native tribal leaders in Nova Scotia.  That provided her with protection from legal actions by taking cover behind the ‘race shield’.

“Take some time to process this information,” Don Chace recommended to the still shocked couple. “It might help to answer some of your concerns. Do what you have to do, in the way of extricating yourselves from any self-incriminating actions, but hold off for a few days. Call me anytime night or day with any further questions. I’m formulating a ‘game plan’ and I’d like to run it by both of you within a day or so.

The Pub had emptied during the afternoon lull and Jerry had not interrupted the meeting. The three participants had settled back in their chairs, drinks finished and minds whirling in search of the next step.

Don Chace had another case to attend to and excused himself. They said their goodbyes with an agreement to re-connect soon. Don stopped by the bar on his way out and paid the tab for the three of them.

“Wow, what an ear-full this meeting provided!” Maggie exclaimed to Max’s far-off gaze. “We’ve been in the middle of something way beyond our adventure on the mountain.”

“I’ve got you into a real pile of shit Mag,” he said, reaching across the table to take her still-bruised hand. “I want you out of this right now.”

“No way Max,” she said looking deeply into his concerned and troubled gaze. “I’m not going to let you out of my sight until this gets settled. There is one question that’s driving me nuts. It might be nothing, but I want to know why that river went red!”  Max nodded in agreement which was, as usual, the only thing he could do when she humorously expressed her boundless, resilient resolve.