Later on Monday, Harry popped a clam into his mouth as Tag finished up his fries and drank down the remainder of his orange soda. The senator was on his second bourbon and branch.

He'd left while Clay and Bob walked and talked together. He'd made some phone calls and arranged to have his driver pick him up at Hyde Field upon his return to the DC area. He was back to see if Bob had soothed the savage beast inside his marine biologist before he left.

"I must say, JK's clams are excellent without being pretentious. Simple food, wonderful taste. It's the key to so many coming back," the senator thought out loud.

"Don't suppose someone would want to go get me another one of these," Tag said, holding up his empty cup. "I'd go but someone might come in and want to buy something. Wouldn't want to miss a sale," Tag lamented.

"I've been here an hour and no one has come near this place. I think you'd be safe taking five minutes to walk over yourself," Harry said, popping another clam he took from the clams next to Clay.

No, you go get your own refills. I bring you the first round. You're on your own after that," Clay said. "Ivan stocked orange drinks for you. Why don't you take one out of the cooler?"

"They drink those first. I can't keep enough orange to satisfy my customers. I took to hiding a couple, but I end up giving them up when the kiddies are crying for an orange soda." "I told Bob I'd fly Popov to Tampa Wednesday. It will cut down on the confusion for Popov. I'll put him down where Bob said the North American Airliner would be parked. He has a deal with North American Airlines to keep two of those 747s busy all the time," Clay said.

"He didn't tell me that. You're calling him Bob now? I detected an animosity when you first laid eyes on him," Harry said. "You sure got chummy fast. My choice is acceptable to my man in the Gulf?"

"You made a good choice no matter how slow you were doing it, Harry. All I want is to get Ivan home where he belongs. Bob said he'd bring him home. I believe him," Clay said. "He knows Ivan and I am a couple."

Tag looked up from the counter to see if Clay was serious.

"I did not tell him that. He knew my favorite restaurant and he had the right bourbon and branch water in his hotel suite. The man is through," Harry admired. "Someone that careful has my respect."

"He knew things about me that most people not living in the cove don't know. One conversation with the right person here, and he could learn a lot," Clay said.

"You're right, but he has to have a network of men who he can send out to gather facts he needs. The Pentagon regards him as one of their top military contractors. He came highly recommended."

"Stop selling the guy, Harry. I trust him already," Clay said.

"You aren't this easy, Clayton. What did he say that has you sold on him all of a sudden?" Harry asked.

"He said he'd go get Ivan. I believe him. That's all."

"That's never all with you, Clay. What did he really say?"

"Harry, why don't I drive you to your house and you can get ready to go back where you came from," Clay said.

"That works. I was going to call Algie. Bob will call once all the pieces are in place and the mission is a solid go," Harry said.

"You don't need me. I'm going to JK's," Tag said.

"No, you better wait. He could have more questions about Ivan."

"Me! I don't know anything. Clay knows everything."

"Humor me. Stand by, Taggart. You may prove to be useful yet."

"Thanks for the vote of confidence, Senator."

"Both of you sit tight. I feel better having you near just in case he still has questions and I can't answer them. I don't want to need to go looking for you," Harry said. "I can't risk not getting all the loose ends tied up today. I'll be on the floor all day tomorrow."

Harry drained his drink and reached for the bottle of bourbon.

"You keep drinking those, you'll be on the floor today," Tag said.

"I don't need any comments from the peanut gallery," Harry said.

"I trust your judgment, Harry. Your timing sucks. You should have done this a month ago. That's all I'm saying."

"Unlike your simple version of how the world works, Clayton, I needed to cover my ass before I stuck my neck out. That takes time."

"Two distinctive body parts you were working with," Tag said. "A man of your girth should always keep his ass covered."

"Remind me, why does Ivan put up with you?" Harry asked.

"At present, I'm all there is, if the doors are staying open."

"And a fine job you're doing," Harry said.

"What did Bob tell you on that little walk you took?"

"He told me he would bring Ivan home and see to it he wasn't bothered again," Clay said.

"He didn't tell me that. I'm paying him $5,000 a week and expenses. He should be saying things like that to me," Harry said.

"He knew Ivan and I are lovers," Clay said.

"I didn't tell him that," Harry said. "He is good."

Tag whistled during this exchange.

"$5,000 a week? I'm in the wrong business," Tag said.

"You don't like guns?" Clay said.

"I don't like getting shot by guns. For $5,000 a week, I could learn to like guns a lot," Tag said.

"Anyway, Popov is going to go along with them. He'll be the front man who contacts Ivan and tells him the plan."

The phone rang. Tag picked it up, handing it to Harry.

"Bob," Harry said. "We're a go for Wednesday. OK. I'll be in DC tomorrow. You can reach me there. Yes, he's right here."

Harry handed Clay the phone.

"Yes, I'll have Popov in Tampa before eight on Wednesday. Bye."

Clay drove Harry to the airfield behind his house. Algie was waiting and the plane's engines were running.

"Tanks are full. All systems are go, Harry," Algie said before Harry got into the plane.

Clay watched the Beachcraft lumber onto the runway and pick up speed until it lifted in the clear afternoon air. Harry flew directly out over the Gulf of Mexico before turning north.

When Clay drove to the airfield Wednesday after dinner, the Apache was sitting at the head of the runway, engines running.

"Tanks are full. All systems are go," Algie told him. "I'll expect you back by ten?"

"I think so. I don't anticipate any snags. Thank you, Algie."

In July at six fifteen, when the Apache got airborne, it was daylight. Clay flew out over the Gulf and looked down at the beauty spreading as far as the eye could see.

Making a right turn, he flew along the coast a mile from shore.

An hour after he made the turn, the lights of Tampa appeared on his right. The airport was easy to see with planes taking off and landing as they approached.

Clay was told to look for a huge North American Airlines 747 parked at the end of the last row of hangars. Clay got landing instructions and he was told to take a nearby taxiway to the airliner.

He got out and gave the big Russian a hug.

"Stay safe, Popov. Tell Ivan I love him, will you?"

"I will. Don't you worry. We'll have him back to you in no time," Popov said.

He was escorted to the stairs. He disappeared into the plane.

Clay was in no hurry. The plane's engines started and ran for ten or fifteen minutes before the gigantic plane turned toward the main runway. Clay could see where it would take a lot of runway to get that sucker into the air, and it did.

In the twilight the airliner circled to the left and ended up heading directly west over the Gulf of Mexico.

"Good luck," Clay said.

He felt a bit apprehensive. He felt a bit relieved.

"Good luck, Popov."

The idea this plane would be coming back with Ivan on it appealed to Clay. The idea Popov was going along made Clay feel a lot more positive about seeing Ivan again.

It was nearly dark when the North American airliner got airborne. Clay was immediately asking for clearance to follow the 747 into the air. He turned south into the blackness as the first stars began to twinkle on the horizon.

The sky was like a black sea and Clay loved to fly at night. It was far more relaxing when he could see only the stars and the moon.

*****

There were four men in a Minute Man insertion team. The man in charge on the plane, Adolf Schneider, answered to John Carl who would fly in later in the week, after assessing the situation on the ground. The men who took Ivan there might not want him removed.

It was Adolf who sat with Popov during takeoff. He gave Popov a rundown on what he knew about the mission. Popov listened carefully while eating the meal set down in front of him.

Popov was not only impressed, he was confused.

"You are having this plan before Popov came on board. I am having the trouble knowing why you are treating me so well."

Adolf laughed.

"Popov, you are the star of the show. Your presence makes contact with Ivan easier. You'll clear the way for us to be in position to take him out of there. Once he sees you, he'll know we're on his side. You'll save the man paying for this mission a lot of money."

"This makes Popov happy. I'm not liking being in the way."

"Far from it. By the time we land, we'll know where Ivan is staying. We'll make sure to get you close enough to make contact him without alerting his handlers we are there."

Adolf walked with Popov in the plane and introduced him to his team and the dozen member support staff that were used to divert attention away from the team's activities.

While Popov knew better than to act surprised, he was thrown off balance when Schneider took him to the weapons locker. There were dozens of guns, rifles, and grenade launchers that could be carried under select pieces of clothing.

When Popov defected from Russia, he knew soldiers and officers in the Soviet military. Mostly he knew naval officers, and he was shown all the weaponry that was available at the time. They were unsophisticated, as weapons went. The weapons on that plane were slick and all purpose for anyone looking to win a small fire fight.

"Why so much military gear?" Popov asked. "We're going to protect one man. I don't anticipate a military action being necessary."

"You obviously don't realize the nature of this operation. It pays for us to be prepared for any contingency. We'd rather be too heavily armed than to find ourselves up against a better armed force. We hope to complete this mission without carrying anything more deadly than sidearms. If more sophisticated arms are required, we're ready."

Popov didn't want to consider any heavy artillery being required to get Ivan home safely. He'd been out of the loop for too many years to ask intelligent questions about the gear he saw. He was impressed, but he felt like he might not be prepared for Ivan's circumstances being as dire as Schneider's words indicated they could be.

Popov wanted armed men to accompany him on a rescue mission. He would make sure Ivan got back to the cove and his Cove Enterprises safely and without incident, the nature of weapons.

John Carl would try to keep the violence limited. They were prepared to take on Ivan's handlers if it was necessary, but a peaceful extraction would be better for everyone concerned.

*****

It turned into a beautiful night. When I went into the passageway and hung up the slicker, I could smell Greek's Mediterranean sauce with fresh baked bread. My stomach had been off food even before the storm hit, but those smells had me salivating. Greek was a genius with food.

I ended up walking behind the professor into the galley. Greek put dinner on hold until the storm passed. It turned out to be a good decision. It brought us all to the galley at the same time, except for Rolf, who stayed on the bridge to keep watch.

Greek stood beside the table to hear the compliments over a sauce everyone was dipping into with the fresh baked garlic bread. If there was anything better than fresh bread and a good sauce to go with it, I don't know what it was. I hadn't eaten for most of the day, and my stomach had only just settled after the storm.

The food was enough to make me forget my anxiety. There was laughter and a pleasant interaction that replaced the tension. I still didn't know what my film showed, but I was sure it didn't show much.

I was surprised to see Captain Hertzog dipping the fresh baked bread into a rich red sauce. He kept dipping as I got a plate of pasta to slather with the sauce. I grabbed a big hunk of the steaming bread.

I wasn't hungry until I got to the galley and I couldn't get enough. It made the entire day end well. I felt at home there with those men.

Logan was also dipping bread into the sauce, and licking his fingers after the bread disappeared.

"You didn't stay to see the thing," Logan said, calling it by the name everyone settled on.

"It's going to disappear? I'll see it," I said, not in a hurry.

"You OK?" Logan asked with concern in his voice.

"Seems actions upset him," Bill said without hesitating.

"That's not what I said," I said, not liking the words he used.

Maybe I wasn't over it yet.

"Dylan, you need to tell me what you want from me. I can't read your mind," Bill said. "Whatever it is, we can get over it."

"I can speak for myself. You went into that trench. I was told to stay away from that trench. If you'd have told me what you were going to do, I'd have stayed on the Horizon," I said angrily.

"You went into that trench?" Captain Hertzog said in an unmistakably harsh tone of voice.

"I wouldn't have told you," Bill admitted to the captain.

"Good thing Dylan did. You don't think the thing that hovered over you on the reef didn't come out of that trench? Be honest with me professor. Did that thing come out of the trench?"

"I have no evidence of that," Bill defended himself.

"The thing came out of the trench," Logan said. "It's common sense, Bill. It wasn't there. You go in the trench. It's there. It came out of the trench, Professor."

Bill stood up and left the galley without eating a bite.

"Dip your bread in this sauce, Dylan. It's fabulous," Logan said.

I did. It was. It was good on the pasta noodles too.

"I cooled the sauce when I took it off the heat at about five. It allowed the flavors to mellow. When I reheated it, well, it is good," Greek said as he too dipped his bread in the large bowl of sauce.

"Greek, you're a good cook. This sauce is great," Logan said.

"You think that thing came out of the trench?" Captain Hertzog asked anyone who might want to answer him.

I said enough and I kept eating.

"Of course it did. Three days ago Bill drove the Scorpion into that trench. Today, there's something bigger than big hovering over the reef. It obviously followed the Scorpion out of the trench. When it saw Bill and Dylan working around the reef, he went to investigate," Logan said, licking his fingers after dipping more bread in the sauce.

"What do you think, Dylan?" Logan asked.

"I was in the Scorpion when he took it into the trench. I've never been that scared. Not only were we tossed around, but we dropped like a rock for several hundred feet. I was sure I was going to die," I said, not able to stuff a sock in it.

"That sucker has shoulders, Dylan," Logan told me.

"It has what?" I asked, not understanding.

"Shoulders. When did you last see a fish with shoulders?"

"It's not a fish. Anything could have come out of that trench. We aren't all that far from where they dropped atomic bombs. The movies about creatures coming out of the sea, because of those tests, might not be all that far-fetched," Captain Hertzog said.

"You believe that?" I asked, chilled by his words.

"How do you explain it?" the captain asked me.

"I don't. I don't have enough information. I haven't seen it."

"I've seen it. It has shoulders. It ain't no fish," Logan said. "You left. I was fooling with the focus. I'm trying to get that shadow to a level where I can see the image of the thing. See its shape. Its got shoulders, and I'm sure it is standing on the far side of the reef looking over at you guys. That makes it what, thirty, forty foot tall?"

"The reef is fifteen, maybe sixteen feet high there. That makes the thing twenty feet tall for it to be able to look over top of the reef," I said, trying to picture it in my head.

"You were there. I'll accept that evaluation," Logan said.

"You had an animated feature with dinosaurs you showed me last summer. Can you make a still picture of something you think is the right size?" Captain Hertzog asked Logan.

"I don't see why not. Which dinosaur do you want?"

"Something with shoulders that could stand on the backside of the reef and look over the top the way this thing did," he said.

"I can do that. I'll have it in the morning," Logan promised, liking what the captain was thinking.

"Bring it up to the bridge in the morning. We'll look it over while we have coffee. I don't think the professor will be happy with us, but I'd like to know what we're looking at here," the captain said.

"No telling if it is anything like a dinosaur," Logan said.

"No telling it isn't," Captain Hertzog said.

"No, nothing says that either."

*****


Send Rick an email at quillswritersrealm@yahoo.com

On to Chapter Ten

Back to Chapter Eight

Chapter Index

Rick Beck Home Page

"The Gulf and the Gift" Copyright © 2024 OLYMPIA50. All rights reserved.
    This work may not be duplicated in any form (physical, electronic, audio, or otherwise) without the author's written permission. All applicable copyright laws apply. All individuals depicted are fictional with any resemblance to real persons being purely coincidental.

Home Page | Authors | Christmas Stories | Stories by the Writer Suggested Reading | Suggested Viewing | Links Privacy Policy | Terms of Service Send a Comment All Site Content © 2003 - 2024 Tarheel Writer unless otherwise noted Layout © 2003 - 2024 Tarheel Writer