May, 1999, the banking system in Russia nearly collapsed with the withdrawal of 650 million US dollars from various accounts said to be under the control of Russian mobsters. Russian banking officials are baffled by the withdrawals, trying to explain that although the withdrawals were recorded, it appeared that all of the money first went into the account of one gang leader. Most of the money was then disbursed to several accounts controlled by another gang leader, although the first gang leader kept millions for himself. After that there is no indication who withdrew the money or where it might have gone. There are significant errors in the computer systems the banks are using and there are missing data for hundreds of accounts, most said to be gang related

Violence broke out on the streets of three Russian cities as rival mobs accused each other of robbing the banks. Five days of gang warfare left 150 gangsters and 18 innocents dead. Hundreds more were wounded.

Chapter 1

February13, 1989, 2330 hours

The waterfront of Destroyer & Submarine Piers at Naval Station Norfolk at this time of night provided no particular excitement this evening. A few early-returning drunks sporadically fractured the silence with whoops or laughter or song, but the boisterous activities were quelled as the sailors composed themselves enough to present some kind of military image to their respective deck watches as they crossed the brow.

Crossing onto USS Starfish, Electronics Technician First Class Peter Bransford presented himself to the topside watch. He was neither drunk nor boisterous; he was working. Whatever notion Mister and Missus America have of their defenders, be it appearance, bearing, or protocols, ET1 Peter Bransford, at this particular moment in his service to his country, would not satisfy any image as he stepped off the brow connecting USS Hammerhead and USS Starfish. A well-worn, olive-drab foul weather jacket, with USS LAPON #144 stenciled on the back and struck through JOHANSON penned on the front, covered the first class petty officer insignia on his dungaree shirt. The dungarees were fresh pressed when he dressed sixteen hours earlier. He could still pass inspection after being in them all day. His shoes were spit-shined and unscuffed in the morning and survived the day without insult.

Following a salute to where the ensign should be and to the Starfish Topside Watch, ET1 Peter Bransford mechanically stated, “Request permission to come aboard.”

The Topside Watch, nestled against the submarine’s sail in an attempt to be shielded as best as possible from the raw breeze blowing across the James River, stepped aft one stride and smartly returned the salute, “Permission granted.”

“ET1 Bransford reporting. Is Chief Hanson on board tonight?” Peter asked as he moved toward the open hatch in the middle of the vessel. A shaft of warm air blew from the interior. Peter hadn’t been out in the environs long enough to be chilled, but the warmth felt good, nonetheless. The odors of the submarine grabbed his nose as he waited for permission to lay below.

Despite the best air treatment machines possible, nothing can remove the fragrance of diesel fuel. The fact that Starfish is nuclear powered makes no difference: it carries an emergency diesel generator, and where you have a diesel you have diesel fuel and regardless if how careful one is, when it spills it never gets completely cleaned up. Interlocked with the diesel fuel are residual odors from decaying vinyl, perpetually curing sealants and coatings, the smoke of millions of cigarettes, cigars and bowls of pipe tobacco along with all of the farts and garlic breath that have been expelled during the past twenty years of service.

Strongly opposing his patient demeanor is a desperate need to pee. ET1 Peter Bransford had just completed a non-stop, eight hour drive from Groton, Connecticut, to Norfolk, Virginia, driving a truck filled with intelligence gathering radios, signal analyzers, test equipment and consumables for three months at sea. Mister and Missus America might challenge the precept that a First Class Petty Officer of any rate would be stuck with driving a truck any distance, and in the vast majority of circumstances they would be correct, but not this evening..

The Topside Watch heard authorization from the Below Decks Watch over the intercom and closed the distance to the weapons shipping hatch before passing on the message, “Chief Billings will meet you in the crew’s mess. Do you know how to get there?”

ET1 Bransford gave a wave as a manner of acknowledgement and descended, in what appeared to be a controlled fall, into his home for the foreseeable future. His apparent lack of finesse wasn’t due to any lack of strength or co-ordination. No living person could transit the weapons shipping hatch of a Sturgeon Class submarine gracefully, with its angled opening and offset ladders, one of which was temporary.

At the bottom of the ladder Peter didn’t hesitate over where to go next, despite having never been aboard Starfish. The synthetic, hard, wood-grained paneled walls and metal deck plates covered with a thin layer of vinyl impregnated with “warm colors patterns” defined the single passageway in the Operations Compartment upper level. The small concession to habitability was limited to eye level and all one had to do was look up a bit and view the eternal jumble of pipes, valves, gages, switches and wires packed against the cylindrical hull, forced to yield space for humans.

Peter gave no thought to any decorating differences between this boat and others he served on. He didn’t need directions or a guide as he walked forward a few steps to a ladder leading to the middle level and his immediate goal: the crew’s head. Relief was his reaction since he had been holding it back since the D.C. beltway.

Following the head call ET1 Bransford walked aft in the short passageway to the crew’s mess. Two passed out members of ship’s company dressed in casual civilian attire slumped against a bulkhead on adjacent bench seats. One had the presence of mind to shed his jacket, the other still dressed for the chilly night and zipped up to the collar. A television set mounted into the forward bulkhead flickered with The Tonight Show to the otherwise empty space.

Sometimes the cooks left a plate of pastries or pie on the shelf over the breakout cooler that also serves as counter top for the pass through to the galley. If anything had been there it was gone then. ET1 Bransford was about to check to see if there was sandwich material in the breakout cooler when a voice hails him from the passageway. “You Bransford? I’m Chief Billings. Welcome aboard. Hansen is on the beach. You can pick any bunk you want in the six-man. That’s reserved for you guys. You get stuck with the truck?”

“Yeah, too many married guys anymore. And the ones who aren’t married are shackin’ with some honey. I’m not getting any, so I get the truck. The others will fly in tomorrow morning.” ET1 Bransford handed a manila envelope containing his orders and records to the Chief.

“All right, good to know you made it, welcome aboard. Muster at 0800 in the radio shack.”

Chief Billings left to find the below decks watch to initial logs and ET1 Bransford went back to finding a sandwich. Pay dirt! Bread, salad dressing, mustard, homogenized lunchmeat, dill pickle, tomato slices and the choice of white or yellow cheese. As Peter assembled his snack a lanky figure approached in the passageway.

ET1 Bransford noticed the figure stopped next to him and abandoned his enterprise to glance to his side.

The figure was another first class petty officer. His “duty shoes” had been subjected to the insults of briny bilge water, epoxy paint drips, lubricating oil spills, fuel oil, and a neat hole in the left toe where contamination from a reactor coolant spill had been neatly removed with a 3/8 inch gasket punch. No Marine in the world would ever be able to coax a shine on those shoes, not even the ‘good’ one. The dungarees were clean and retained the slightest suggestion of creases from being properly folded. The sailor scrunched his face in a mixture of concentration and uncertainty before speculating, “Boot camp. Lets see, Bedford? No, Benson! No,..”

“Bransford.”

“That’s right. Peter Bransford. Charlie Stone.” Charlie extended his hand.

“Charlie Stone!” Bransford’s face lit up with a sincere smile and he began pumping Charlie’s outstretched hand. “Dang, how could I forget?”

“I see you haven’t had time to get out of your jacket yet. You checkin’ in? Nuke, spook, or forward puke?”

“Spook. You?”

“Nuke. Which reminds me, I have a watch to relieve.” Charlie motioned to the sandwich-in-progress, “I see you found the mid-rats I’ll catch up with you later on. Great to see you again!”

Peter smiled as Charlie went up the ladder to the upper level and disappeared. Sonofabitch! How about that, running into Charlie after all these years. It’s always great to have at least one familiar face in the crew.

Chapter 2

Revile came at 0630. Peter rubbed his face with both hands as he tried to recall where he was. He crawled out of his bunk, retrieved his shaving kit and flip-flops and walked around the corner to the crew’s head where he relieved himself and then proceeded to brush his teeth and shave. His supply of starched and pressed dungarees had been precisely folded and after dressing he looked just like the example in the Blue Jackets Manual.

Poking his head in the pass-through window he asked for two eggs over easy and wheat toast. After taking two cups out of a holder he drew a cup of coffee from the coffee pot. He sat down and poured juice out of a stainless steel pitcher into the second cup. While enjoying his coffee a few other sailors straggled into the mess area, meal reliefs for those on watch. A few minutes went by and a mess cook delivered his plate with two eggs and two slices of toast. “Remember how good these taste, ‘cause they won’t be getting any fresher.”

That was no joke. In eight weeks the eggs would be so bad that if one out of six made it to a plate, it would be luck. Stabbing a couple of slices of sausage from a platter, he completed the first course. When the eggs, toast and sausage were disposed of he slid three pancakes on his plate, slathered each with butter and added warm syrup.

Peter was about halfway through the stack when a Senior Chief Petty Officer came into the mess. He obviously had spent the night elsewhere, as he was fully awake and his uniform was fresh.

“Bransford?”

Bransford nodded while chewing a forkful of pancakes.

“I’m Chief Hansen,” he said as he slid onto the bench across from Peter. “Glad to have you aboard. Been on Starfish before?”

Peter swallowed a bit sooner than he would have normally, but didn’t want to talk with his mouth full. “No, Chief. This’ll be my first run with you guys. I’ve heard a lot of good things however. I look forward to being part of the crew.”

“So, you’re the duty driver, right?”

Peter made a face demonstrating his distaste for the assignment. He took a sip of coffee to help wash down the rushed mouthful of pancakes before answering. “That’s right. One thing I know how to do is get that fucking truck up and down I-95. I’m just glad you aren’t at Kings Bay!”

The Chief laughed. “Muster at 8 in the radio shack then we will get together a working party and bring your gear over.” The Chief gave his breakfast order to the mess cook.

Machinists Mate First Class (Submarine Qualified) Charlie Stone strolled into the crews mess, gave an egg order to the mess cook and sat down next to Peter. “So, brain bucket, what have you been up to for the past eight years?” Charlie Stone lived within a different, but not dissimilar sphere of influence. As a veteran member of Starfish he was a division supervisor. He was not quite equal to Peter Bransford on an IQ scale, but he would qualify for MENSA if he were so inclined to pursue membership. Being part of the engineering department, MM1(SS) Charlie Stone, and 14 other “M” Division crewmen, rarely if ever were involved with the more “glamorous” aspects of submarine work, like sonar and radio intelligence gathering. MM1(SS) Charlie Stone’s function was to make sure the submarine was being pushed through the water reliably and at the exact speed desired by the Captain.

Charlie looked to Chief Hansen, “We enlisted together and were in boot camp together.” The Chief nodded with an appreciative look.

Peter was genuinely happy with meeting up with Charlie. “Well, you know how it is. When you ‘are not really here’ everywhere you go it is hard to get into specifics. I’ve been more or less out of New London since I left ‘C’ School. I did a stint with the zoomies. That sucked. Give me a sewer pipe any day. Carriers suck, there are gangs running around a lot of the ship, the food isn’t as good, of course they are cooking for four thousand guys, women, too. That is different.”

“Oh yeah? We don’t have that problem. Get any action from any of the Waves?”

“Oh yeah, you bet.” Peter made a disgusted look. “There was one in the section I was assigned to, but she was a two-bagger. You got anything going around here?”

Charlie took a sip of coffee. “Nah. There are a couple of sympathetic bar-hogs at a neighborhood bar I frequent down on Granby Street, but beyond that I haven’t been able to make any connections. Every now and then somebody has a sister visiting or something like that, but I just end up being an escort. Occasionally a deployment widow turns up at a dance, but I try to avoid married women. They lie and sometimes I don’t catch on too quick. Nothing else happening. The last girl I actually dated was a Chaplain’s daughter at the Sub Base. That was several years ago.”

Charlie looked at Peter’s shirt for indication Peter was qualified in submarines. “So, are you qualified and not allowed to wear dolphins or just a fuckin’ NQP?”

Peter gave Charlie the finger with his left hand as he worked on his breakfast with his right. “We almost never have time to complete quals. I have three cards started, including one for these boats. I need engineering sigs, real bad.”

“Well, isn’t that interesting. I can sign off everything aft of frame 57. But, you might have better luck with someone who has, how should I say, someone who doesn’t know you as well.”

Peter spread his hands in a pleading gesture. “Buddy?”

Charlie laughed. “I’ll help you out. Speaking of which, if you don’t have duty tonight we could go downtown to the waterfront mall and try to catch some action.”

Later in the morning the remainder of the riders arrived. Following an initial flurry of visits to the yeoman and the hospital corpsman it was time for the noon meal.

After the noon meal the Officer in Charge called them and the ship’s company radiomen together for a briefing in the wardroom. The Operations Officer, Communications Officer and Chief Hansen were there along with the riders. The OIC stood at the head of the wardroom table and addressed the assemblage, “We need to get our gear stowed this afternoon. Bransford, you can keep your toy box in the tunnel. There is an unused storage place on the deck, complete with a hold down strap. The engineer says you’re welcome to it, but he better not see the hold-down strap off the box without you there, understand? Otherwise you will have to sleep with it. As you all know, stores are taking up every available cubic inch of space. The sonar gang has agreed to let us store our tape in their space in exchange for field-day assistance from two men.” This point was followed by a mixture of groans, laughs and profanities.

The Officer in Charge ignored the expected response for only a second before continuing with accentuated authority, “Once again, the choice is that or sleeping with it.”

The room fell silent as the OIC paused for his authority to be re-established. Once satisfied he continued, “The Captain and XO have made it very clear that we are expected to participate in all activities the same as any regular crew members, which includes field-days and drills. To that end, anyone who wants to work on ship’s quals can do so. The Captain has said if you have a started qual card from another 637 boat you can do compartment walkthroughs, you don’t have to get individual systems resigned. However, your final interview will be the same as if you did everything here, is that clear? No gifts. Better know everything there is to know about emergency gear and torpedoes. That is word straight from the COB.”

No responses, groans or abusive language followed the qualification spiel. The qualification process was taken very seriously and all of the experienced riders knew it. The two new riders had been coached enough to not make wise ass comments about the situation. It made no difference they were highly trained, extremely intelligent and had been treated with kid gloves during their training; on board Starfish they enjoyed no status as ‘Non-Qualified Personnel.’

“All right, onto business. Ship’s company has completed all of the calibrations on the antennas and receivers. Make your arrangements through Chief Hansen if you want any of the masts raised for checking out your gear. We have a cage on the tender for the containers we don’t need at sea and if you want to stow your sea bags there. The COB has the key and he will send a seaman with you. We have to tote our own stuff. COB will have the updated watch, quarters and station bill posted by the time we are done here. Check it for who has the duty tonight. We will cover for the crew in the radio shack tonight. Maneuvering watch is set for 0900 tomorrow. You get every thing stowed and locked down you can go on liberty. Questions?”

0900 hours, February 5, 1989. The 1MC sounds the announcement, “Station the Maneuvering watch.” A pair of Navy tug boats are in the slip, standing off about 15 feet from Starfish. As line handlers come topside, lifejackets over their foul weather jackets, the Squadron Commander comes across the brow. The Squadron Commander’s sharp pressed uniform is covered with a fading, but spotless, foul weather jacket carrying a patch from a long since decommissioned diesel submarine. There is no announcement, no boatswain pipe heralding the arrival of the Squadron Commander, just another faceless officer strolling from the tender to a submarine.

The Captain scrambles from the weapons shipping hatch for the expected visit. They exchange handshakes and the Squadron Commander hands the Captain a thick manila envelope bound with masking tape. There are no markings on the envelope. There is a short conversation, but longer than one would expect for a transfer of routine orders and a wish for fair winds and following seas.

There is a lot of serious nodding by the Captain. At one time the Squadron Commander stops talking, looks at the Captain and gives him a grin. The Captain forces a smile in return and nods his assent. The good luck and God’s speed follows. The Squadron Commander looks over and sees the COB and makes a comment about maintaining trim. The COB laughs, knowing a reply isn’t required. The Captain and the Squadron Commander shake hands, exchange salutes and the Squadron Commander takes his leave across the brow to the Bluefish and then across to the tender.

The line handlers and tugboat crews release Starfish from Bluefish and maneuver Starfish into the channel of the James River. With silent grace and no smoke, the low, sleek shape slips nearly unnoticed through Hampton Roads into the mouth of Chesapeake Bay and the Atlantic Ocean.

With the command to dive the bridge is cleared and the hatch pulled shut. The lookouts are the last to breathe fresh air for the next 75 days, if all goes according to plan. The claxon sounds and the order is given, “Dive, Dive.” In a few seconds Starfish slips from view of the rest of the world. With the exception of a hundred or so families and a few officials in the Navy it doesn’t even exist as far as anyone in the outside world is concerned.

The Captain orders a course of 030º, a standard outbound course for Norfolk-based submarines heading for a northern Russia patrol. First stop: Point Juliet, an arbitrary dot on a chart north of Norway.

Chapter 3

The transit to Point Juliet was a six day trip. During the six days the crew took the boat to test depth, exercised all of the equipment it could, and conducted a variety of drills. When Starfish reached its operating station, outside the port of Murmansk, there would be no time for any activity other than carrying out its tactical missions. The already quiet vessel and crew would be operate the ship in a “silent running” mode, which translates to no unnecessary noise generating activities, which would include drills.

The spooks spent most of the first three days arranging their gear so they could work in their spaces and have things as handy as possible. Patch cords were the order of the day as they anticipated which receivers, signal analyzers and recorders they would want to be using first. There wasn’t much guess work involved, submarines had been making the same trip for forty years and many of the anticipated contacts and situations were old friends, the most notable changes to the routine were in the equipment they used to monitor the traffic..

. At Point Juliet the entire crew was filled with anticipation of entering the operational area as Starfish came to periscope depth and loitered while taking navigational fixes and getting radio traffic. During this time the Captain, Executive Officer and Operations Officer huddled in the wardroom. The Captain opened the envelope delivered by the Squadron Commander: “Anticipate condition Kilo. Proceed to Point Oscar and wait for signal. Kilo to proceed per SOP. Charlie Oscar to return to original orders.”

A Russian submarine was scheduled to leave Murmansk and operate under the arctic ice pack. The schedule would be dependent on an ice breaker getting a channel cleared and the abilities of the Russians to get a boat operational and a crew to man it. Things were thin in the Russian submarine force and the U.S. knew it. However, when the Russians were at sea, they weren’t patsies.

The under ice operation was not anticipated with any joy. Charts for the Arctic Ocean are poor and in areas that are relatively shallow the situation is complicated by the varying ceiling of ice.

The Captain called in the other department heads and Lt. Chadwick, Officer in Charge of the spooks.

“We have a change in orders. We are anticipating an under ice trail of Ivan. Ivan has not left port yet, as far as we know. We will wait for Ivan at point Oscar. Mr. Chadwick, it looks as if you’re out of a job for at least a week or so. Make arrangements with Ops for assignments. Leave one radio tech and one translator on call for now, in case we find something interesting. Otherwise work with the XO to spread the guys out.

Starfish was on station and rigged for ultra quiet at point Oscar for two days when the message came that an icebreaker, followed by an October class submarine was transiting the river ice from Murmansk. 18 hours later came the report that the submarine was proceeding on course toward point Oscar. A day later the sonar watch on Starfish reported a contact, “Bearing 235, possible submarine, designate sierra-47.”

The spooks knew they would be out of work for the next 45 days. They knew it would be 45 days based on past experience that Russian patrols never lasted longer than that. The book on the Soviets was the political leaders did not trust the crews to stay loyal any longer than six weeks at sea. U.S. submarines were only limited by the amount of food that could be carried, and it wasn’t unheard of for a submarine to return to port after 80 days with no food available for the next meal.

In the control room the situation became routine, but filled with a high level of anxiety and tension. The other submarine made sonar checks every ninety minutes, as if on a clockwork. Starfish would come to stop, standing less than a thousand yards off to the side as the Russian sped back down the reciprocal of its track. The Russian would then loop around and head back up the track, confident he was alone and unmonitored.

The spooks were left with no regular work. The radio shack went on four six hour watches a day, but there was only routine incoming traffic to monitor and that was mostly just filler material monitored by ships company. There would be no electronic intelligence work while under the ice. Much to the chagrin of the men involved, the two third class Communication Technicians were assigned to mess cooking and laundry duties. The remainder of the riders were dispersed among the tracking teams and sonar watches.

With 18 hours per day of free time to kill and a limited number of options of where to go during off duty periods, the spooks soon joined the activities of the permanent crew. Three of the seamen who were already qualified in submarines wanted to strike for electronics ratings and they negotiated with the mess cooking spooks who wanted to get their ships quals in exchange for help with basic electronics tutoring.

Bransford and one of the translators spent their free time in the engineering spaces while Charlie Stone was on watch, learning the details of pumps and turbines, reactor operations and atmosphere regeneration equipment in hopes of finishing the qualification requirements. For Charlie and Peter, what started as fellow recruits in boot camp soon was to grow into a friendship that would last a lifetime.

As Charlie guided the two men whose naval careers were exclusively focused on radios and signal analyzers it became obvious to them the pipes and valves of a submarine were just as complex as any electronic device. They also were quick to appreciate how thoroughly knowledgeable Charlie was about everything they looked at. Even the reactor control equipment was an area of knowledge Charlie had, at least to Peter, a surprisingly deep understanding.

Away from the engineroom and qualification proceedings the crew would spend free time in the crews mess or torpedo room shootin’ the shit about cars and women. The only women in Charlie’s life were his mother and his sister. Charlie could charitably be described as romantically challenged. Charlie had a girl friend for a few months while attending nuclear power school, but letters from her dried up quickly after he left for the next school. At 26 years old Charlie was only a handful of encounters removed from being a virgin, and several years of being at sea more than nine months a year only netted him a nice car and a down payment on a lot in Florida. His sophistication level was pretty much the same as when he was a senior in high school. The few foreign ports they visited were for very short stops and the only local ‘cultural opportunities’ were $20 a pop, and Charlie wasn’t that excited about the spectrum of social diseases he might encounter. “Join the Navy and see the world.” Except submarine sailors had few occasions to view any of the world except through a periscope.

Peter’s sexual experience was equally uninspiring. The local karaoke girls at the bars in Groton and New London were plastic and shallow as far as his sensibilities were concerned and he was nervous about the prospects of bedding down a ‘patrol widow’, so many of whom showed up at the Acey-Duecy club on base. His only foray into the romantic world had been with a civilian ONI analyst he attended a two week school with. She “entertained” him nearly to death the weekend between classes, but he never heard from her the first time after the school ended.

Peter Bransford was a chess and bridge master and, in exchange for the help with qualifications, soon had Charlie learning the rudiments of each. Charlie quickly became proficient at bridge and Peter was eager to have Charlie as his bridge partner when the wardroom versus enlisted tournament was posted.

Chess was another matter. The game was more abstract and Charlie wasn’t all that enthusiastic about it. The games were also irritating because Peter was always kibitzing, “Oh that’s the Dutch Defense opening,” or “That’s the Stonewall Attack.”

Charlie didn’t care too much for the running commentaries, but tolerated it most of the time with only occasional irritated outbursts, “You make one more comment and I’m going to take your fucking queen and king and stuff them cross ways up your ass!” Following the outburst Peter would be quiet for the remainder of the game; which never lasted much longer. The outcomes were inevitable from the first move, Peter claimed.

Peter would write a number on a napkin. After several games Charlie asked, “What’s the number for?” And Peter replied, “That is the number of moves until you’re check mated!” Charlie seethed, but could do little to alter the situation and hid his aggravation in silence.

One morning, mid way in the deployment, they were playing chess and Charlie asked Peter if he spoke Russian. Peter admitted that he did. Unlike the other translators, who were Communications Technicians who received language training from the Navy, Peter learned Russian as a child from his maternal grandparents and also took it as an elective in high school. He was studying Russian in college, but decided to join the Navy following an uninspired freshman year.

“How about you, Charlie? Are you a closet Rooskie, too?” Peter chuckled.

Charlie rattled off his answer in unsure, but serviceable Russian. “Yes, I speak Russian. Actually, I was raised speaking Ukrainian. I switched over to Russian because I think in the long run there will be more usefulness for the Russian. But I’m not fluent enough for translating and the Navy didn’t catch on until I was half way through prototype. Rickover said he had too much money invested in me to give me up, so I stayed a nuke.”

“Well, I’m glad you clarified that, because your chess game is not up to the level one would expect from a Russian. Check!”

“Eat shit you commie, pinko fag! Check MATE!”

Peter looked at the board in stunned disbelief. Charlie hadn’t been close to having a chance to even be in the game, let alone win. “How the hell did you do that?” The rhetorical question died in silence.

“God, where did that come from?” Peter started visualizing the game in reverse, pointing his fingers where the pieces went. That didn’t help. He reviewed the game from the front end and still couldn’t figure it out.

“It’s called the Teritzen Trap,” Charlie said.

Peter didn’t hesitate a second to consider Charlie’s statement, “There’s no such move.” His tone was reflexive but authorative, his mind occupied by replaying the game in his head. “Shit man, you had to cheat.”

Charlie just grinned at him and said, “Yeah, ain’t that what this game is all about?” Charlie spread his arms to encompass the whole scene.

“Well I’ll be a sonofabitch. You cheated!” Peter sat quiet for a minute. The anger in his face disappeared as he concentrated. He put all of the chess pieces back on the board then quickly repeated all of the moves in the game, and in the end it was checkmate. “Damn, you didn’t cheat. Where did I go wrong? Shit, you shouldn’t beat me, at least not like that. Well, what do you say? You going to tell me?”

“Fuck you. I’m all right with you thinking I’m cheating.” Charlie was frowning on his face but smiling in his mind.

The weeks went by. Aside from one of them basically being a mechanic and the other a super radio technician they shared a lot in common. Charlie would win the occasional chess match and Peter could never catch on how it was done. Peter started coaching Charlie in Russian.

Toward the end of the patrol the tutoring had progressed to the point Peter was impressed with Charlie’s progress. “I’ve got an idea. Lets get together and do New York together. We just speak Russian, with just a little English. The women fall all over themselves for it.”

“Your shitting me.” Charlie said, unsure of the sincerity of the suggestion. It wouldn’t be unusual for one sailor to fish in another on just about any pretext. It never hurt to be skeptical of any proposal from any other shipmate.

“Not one damn bit. Ask Chadwick. Do you know Mike Olson? I think he rode with you guys on the last trip.”

“Yeah, I think I remember him. Real bad acne problem, if I remember, and a real jerk, even for you guys! Yeah, I remember him, so what?”

“Mike went to New York with Jesse, I know you know Jesse. I don’t know how it is Jesse got roped into it, but they went to New York for the weekend. They went down to the Village and hung around a couple of jazz places and they spent the entire weekend with a couple of gorgeous college chicks. Mike fed them some BS about how his face condition was a reaction to being gassed in a demonstration in some small town nobody has ever heard of. The girls bought it and took pity on him. The girls took Polaroids and Chadwick has seen the prints.”

“Hmmm, that sounds like it might be interesting.” Charlie thought out loud, twirling a dead bishop he had captured from Peter. “I’m assuming that a car would be a liability. Maybe I could get a hop to McGuire. I could grab a bus from there and we could meet at the Port Authority or Penn Station. That might work out.”

Peter left his seat and went to the bug juice machine and returned with a cup of red, chilled liquid. “Well, in case you’re wavering I have a place we can stay for free. My cousin has a place in the Village that is a perk from his employer. He and his wife live over in Jersey, and this place is usually vacant. I should be able to get it on a day’s notice. Everything is there except for food and toothbrushes.”

There was silence for several seconds as Peter moved a chess piece, “There is another angle I’ve been thinking about and that is to go to Brighton Beach and work it in reverse.”

Charlie looked at Peter as if Charlie had an IQ of six and Peter was reciting the Ilead in Greek..

Peter saw there was no recognition, “Brighton Beach! Brooklyn? Hello?”

“What the fuck are you talking about? Jeez, I don’t know Brooklyn from Boston, give me a fucking break.”

Peter was condescending as he explained, “Brighton Beach is a neighborhood of Brooklyn, you know; Brooklyn Bridge, Brooklyn Dodgers. That is the neighborhood all of the Russian immigrants are moving to. Most of them are old Jews, but there are also some younger people, and the women like the chances of getting next to American men.”

Charlie was more than skeptical, not only of the idea, but Peter’s sincerity. “All right, but so what? Aren’t there already five million American men in New York for them to pick from? What’s the catch?”

Peter held out his hand sideways, resting on the table. He extended his index finger and folded the rest. “Well, first of all, there ain’t nobody more prejudiced than a Russian.” He extended another finger. “ Second, of the 5 million American men in New York four million of them just got off the plane from Afghanistan or some other ‘stan’ and the other million are either black or Jewish, neither of whom appeal too much to these women. So that leaves all of these women waiting to screw the daylights out of the first white American male they come across.” He extended the third finger. “The hook is that they travel in pairs or threes and always speak Russian amongst themselves, thinking no one can understand what they are saying. We make like we don’t understand any Russian and let the games begin.” Peter made a glorious sweep with both arms. “Ha cha cha!”

Charlie flipped the bishop at Peter. “‘Ha cha cha?’ Give me a break, will you?” Charlie replied with feigned disdain. He then changed his tone as if he saw the merits of the plan. “Well, that sounds more interesting to me. We can wing it one way or the other. I take it you know your way around a little bit, once we get there. I only know Manhattan enough to get lost.”

“Well, if we really get to feeling froggy we can go up to Harlem and visit the Right Reverend Julius Lester Taylor, finder of lost souls and healer of the sick and wounded.”

“Oh no, not the Julius Taylor I’m thinking of.” Peter was nodding to Charlie’s disbelief. Julius was in Boot Camp with Charlie and Peter. “You mean Julius is living in Harlem? I thought he would be on his own island in the Caribbean, stirring up shit. You saying he’s a minister? A preacher?”

“He met some gal from Harlem one night. Her daddy is a preacher of some sort. Julius claims he found the Lord, but I think he found a good lay and a 1500 member congregation to support him in the manner he thinks he deserves.”

“I got to admit, he certainly has the personality for it. He could charm the habit off Sister Teresa.” They both laughed.

Charlie moved a piece. “Checkmate.”

Chapter 4

After being followed for 41 days the Russian submarine headed for Murmansk. Starfish still had two weeks left to be on station there, so they would follow it into port, show a periscope now and then to get the attention of the shore based radar then lay off the coast for two days to relax.

For the sonar operators, navigators and planesmen the previous six weeks had been a period of unrelenting stress. Depth management and obstacle avoidance kept everyone on edge. On the 38^th day a junior officer had a mental breakdown and was immediately placed in a state of pharmaceutical bliss by the hospital corpsman for the remainder of the deployment. Stewards served him his meals in his stateroom and assisted him in and out of the head. The corpsman monitored his showers. When he was out of his bunk the lead steward, a 6 foot 3” 250 pound former football player from American Samoa, was always standing between him and the passageway.

Starfish let the October open up for three hours and proceeded on a course where it would pass the October to the east and head back to Murmansk to be a greeting party. By this time in the cold war the Russians were more than accustomed to visitors off Murmansk, and it would have caused more concern if a visitor weren’t detected than if one was.

The spooks finally got a chance to go to work. Charlie saw Peter on occasional off watches and they would get up a bridge game, but the long hours of chess and discussions about machinery and electronics were over. Any socializing would have to wait until the return transit.

The transit allowed the crew to resume a more relaxed stance, including Blue Nose ceremonies, marking the crossing of the arctic circle. Uninitiated spooks fared as ill as the crewmembers. Following the last initiation the Captain appeared in the crews mess and summoned Peter and two other spooks. “Men, even though we all know these guys were never here, they have finished their quals, and I am proud to award them their dolphins.” The assemblage hooted and hollered as the Captain pinned the insignia on each sailor’s shirt. As he stopped in front of Peter the Captain asked in a voice loud enough to be heard by all, “And Bransford, who knows more about this submarine than you do?”

Peter snapped to attention, thrust his shoulders back and his chest out, “You, sir!” Peter looked past the Captain at the crewmembers, “And all of these other guys, too.”

The crew howled in laughter and whistles. The Captain turned to his crew with a wry smile. It wasn’t that Peter was arrogant, and he certainly didn’t go out of his way to irritate anyone, he was just so smart and absorbed in his work that most of the crew mistook his coolness as being unfriendly.

Peter and Charlie had a last game of chess the morning before they entered port. They firmed their plans to meet in New York the weekend after they got back.

Chapter 5

Friday afternoon, April 28, 1989. An apartment building in the East Village.

Peter showed up a little after One. An hour later Charlie showed up. The plan was to go to Brooklyn. It was a beautiful day, so they decided to see if there were any potential honeys wandering around enjoying the day. If not, they would come back and take a nap until nine then go out and hit the night spots.

Charlie and Peter took the subways to Brooklyn. They were smartly dressed without being trendy. They could easily have been stock traders or some other young professionals on the way to the top. No one would ever suspect Charlie was an engine room mechanic. During the week Charlie had shed his ‘patrol beard’ and made the effort to go to a salon for an expensive haircut.

It was a postcard spring afternoon; warmer than normal but not to the point of being sweltering, and the sidewalks were filled with people. Most of the crowd was older, but occasionally there would be knots of two and three young ladies, just as Peter had predicted. The younger women exploited the day with pushing-the-season summer fashions. Peter and Charlie’s hormones were raging.

They overheard conversations that were invariably Russian. Peter and Charlie would pick up snatches here and there. On Brighton Beach Boulevard they found a deli that had two outside tables and chairs and the prospects for a lot of potential female traffic on the sidewalk. Charlie occupied a chair while Peter went inside for drinks and sandwiches.

A pair of young ladies passed by and Charlie smiled. One blushed and the other said in Russian, “He’s kind of cute, don’t you think.”

“Yes, and I haven’t seen him in the neighborhood.” They continued walking. After reaching the end of the block they had another conversation and returned toward Charlie. About the time they got to the deli Peter was coming out. They smiled at Charlie and he rose, “Care to sit with us and enjoy the nice day?”

Peter made a face indicating his displeasure with Charlie’s opening line, just knowing the chance had been blown. The girls put on a little act as if they were thinking it over, but quickly said, “Thank You.”

Peter was amazed and his expression changed to satisfaction. Charlie held the chairs for the ladies.

“Hi, I’m Charlie. This is Peter. We are from out of town and just doing some sight seeing. We thought we would get a sandwich since we hadn’t eaten since early this morning. Want to share?” Once again Peter was sure Charlie’s lame excuse for patter was going to halt any further chances of getting to know these girls.

“Thank you, Charlie,” said the one sitting next to him. “I am Kira and this is Katerina.” Her English was good. Not as heavy an accent as Charlie was expecting, but there was no doubt about what her native language was.

Peter was staring at Katerina. Even though Peter considered himself infinitely more sophisticated than Charlie, it was Peter who was gawking and acting like an eighth grader asking the Homecoming Queen for a dance. Katrina’s hair was nearly white and was cut short to the point of being severe. Her facial features were very fine and subtly accented with a minimum of make up. Her deep blue eyes were an intriguing feature amidst all of the pale skin and hair. Her lithe body barely made an accommodation for small breasts. An albino cheetah was all he could think of. She was a stunning sight. “Jeezez H Christ!” thought Peter, “Charlie knows how to pick em.”

Peter snapped out of his bedazzlement and put on a naive face, “Pardon me for asking, but I noticed your accent. Are you from Sweden, perhaps.”

The girls laughed as if they had just heard the punch line to their favorite joke. Katerina responded, “We are from Russia!” They both giggled. “We have lived here for nearly a year. We escaped through the Balkans and into Italy. Our parents are political refugees. We were lucky to make it. It took every ruble we had to bribe officials along the way. But now we are here and free and we love it. Such a wonderful place.”

“How about our accents? Where do you think we’re from?” ask Charlie.

“Well, I don’t think you are from Brooklyn,” Katerina cautiously said.

Kira thought for a moment, “You know, I don’t think you are from New York at all.” She paused before conceding, “I guess I couldn’t even guess. We have just lived here since we arrived, and this neighborhood speaks more Russian than English.”

Peter allowed that he was originally from a small steel mill town near Pittsburgh. Charlie said he was from a farm town in Iowa. The girls were excited about the farm town prospects. They imagined the air would be clean and the perils of the big city would be nonexistent.

“Like what,” Charlie asked.

Kira said, “Oh, there are just so many people here. The traffic is so bad, you can’t cross a street without being run over. And the gangs. People shooting at each other over nothing. Too many guns. Nobody had guns in Russia.”

A heated argument erupted between the girls in Russian but after a few seconds it stopped. There were a few brief comments from Katerina followed by obvious chastisement from Kira. Then they stopped. Traffic noise suddenly became apparent for a moment. Charlie and Peter knew what the argument was about, but sat with dead pan expressions, waiting for an explanation.

Katerina started, “I am sorry. It is impolite to speak when others can’t understand, even when it is argument. Kira is really against the gangs here. My brother is top man in one and has brought a lot of prosperity to our family, so I am not so much against them. He doesn’t hurt anybody. Mostly he just gets back money the Jews have stolen from the rest of us.”

Kira fumed in silence. After a strained half minute she turned to Charlie, “Can you and I go for a walk around the block together?”

Charlie nodded, got up from his chair and Kira put her arm through his as they started down the street. Charlie couldn't believe what was happening to him. Here he was, walking down the street with this lady on his arm who could only be described as gorgeous. She was 5 feet, 9 inches tall, perfectly proportioned, a lovely face and auburn hair. Her clothes were nicely tailored without being flashy. There was a certain class to this girl that Charlie could not point to, but there nonetheless.

They walked in silence until they reached the corner. Kira pulled on his arm to make the turn. They actually were going around the block. Charlie broke the silence, “You said you were refugees. I’ve heard the Russian Jews just about have a free pass. But you indicated you aren’t Jewish.”

“My father was a scientist. He wrote computer programs for space projects in the early years. An administrator saw the value of using the computer for tracking costs and expenditures and asked my father if a computer could do that so my father wrote a program for this gentleman and he shared computer time. The computer code had an error in it, do you know computers?”

Charlie shrugged modestly.

“Yes? Well this man didn’t know computers and it had a problem so he called my father to fix it. While my father was fixing program he realized this administrator was using it to track his own illegal activities. The administrator was very high up in Communist Party and my father wasn’t even a member of Communist Party, so my father couldn’t report this guy for stealing. My father didn’t want to get tied up with this guy so he just claim that he couldn’t find problem and said the guy would have to go back to using his paper accounts. That was the wrong answer and next thing you know my father is sentence to three years in mental hospital. When he was release he started planning for escape and four years later we left.”

“What’s he doing now?”

“ He wanted to work in space program, but he couldn’t get a job with anyone. He tried several universities, but their computer courses are next to nothing. He is working for a bank, International Trust, in their traffic department. He writes programs that keep track of all of the inter-bank transfers. It is different for him, but he is quickly gaining a reputation as top computer operator in the business. He is starting to get visitors from foreign countries.”

“Why the big argument back there with Katerina?”

“She is my best friend. We met in Italy before we came to United States. Her father was killed by East German Stasi. Her mother got Katerina and her brother out of country. She was very brave woman. Now the brother has started this, what do you call it, mafia? He has started this gang and they are preying on Jews just like the police did in Russia. I am no friend of Jews, but they aren’t doing anything to warrant these gangsters attacking them. We are in new country and should live in freedom and not in fear. We could have stayed in Russia if we wanted to live in fear.”

“Is Katerina involved?”

“No, but she doesn’t say anything against it.”

“Well, sorry. I don’t know what to say. Well, actually, I do know what to say. How would you like to go to dinner tonight and afterward stop by some place for some music? Do you like Jazz?”

“That sounds nice, but I hardly know you. What about Peter?”

“Oh, Peter knows me real well.”

Kira looked at him for a moment before breaking into a big smile. “Aren’t you and Peter traveling together or something?” She punched his arm.

“Well, sure. Would you consider a double date with him and Katerina? Assuming he wants to ask and she wants to say yes and all of that.”

Kira made a small swing motion on Charlie’s arm and faced him as she walked backwards a few steps. “You’re funny. Katerina and I will be friends again as soon as we return. Let me see if I can get this right. I think she will say yes if Peter likes her enough to ask her.”

They both laughed. They continued to talk as they finished the lap around the block.

As Charlie and Kira approached the table they saw Peter and Katerina engaged in intense conversation. Charlie and Kira took their seats, but the opposite pair still did not acknowledge them. Kira took Charlie’s bottle of soda and took a small swig, then turned her attention to Katerina.

“.....well, you will never convince me that they aren’t out to control the world. The only people who might get in their way are the Chinese. They are everywhere, too,” stated Katerina emphatically.

“Hope we aren’t interrupting.” Charlie said.

Peter leaned back into his chair, “Not at all. Katerina has some definite views on the world and she was, ah, sharing them with me.”

Kira snickered and Katerina gave her an exasperated look. Kira put on a slightly more serious face . “Charlie and I are going to dinner and a jazz spot. Peter, are you and Katerina going to come with us?”

Peter was momentarily taken back. That goddam Charlie snookered me again! “Ah, yeah. I mean, ah, Katerina do you want to double up with these guys?” Jeezez, I must be coming across as an imbecile!

“That sounds very nice. I guess we will have to change into something a bit nicer. What time?”

Peter looked at Charlie. Charlie gave a shrug and a look reflecting his irritation with Peter for trying to toss it his way. Peter knew he was in charge of the arrangements, why look at Charlie? Peter said, “Let’s pick you up around seven, we will eat around 7:30 and catch a late set someplace in the Village. How does that sound?”

The girls nodded. “How nice a place for dinner?” asked Kira.

Peter answered, “Want to go somewhere fancy or not? We can change into jackets if you want to go somewhere elegant, or if you want goulash, we can do that.”

“Lets do something nice. The men around here think going out for pizza is a nice meal.”, said Katerina.

Charlie nodded, as if appreciating the sentiment. “Pizza does sound like a good meal.”

Kira curled her lip, making sure Charlie saw it. Charlie acted as if he realized his error and said, “But I am sure Peter will find something nicer.”

“Very nice.” Peter confirmed, “Would you ladies be comfortable at one of Manhattan’s finer spots?”

“We can get ready for that.” Katerina said without hesitation, giving Kira a knowing wink.

The girls gave them their addresses. They lived about three blocks apart. They would pick up Kira first. The foursome continued talking for another hour until the girls pleaded they needed time to get ready.

Once on the subway back to the village Peter finally said, “Holy shit, man! How did you snag those two? God, just sitting next to Katerina is enough to arouse me. And those eyes are killers!”

“What can I say? They walked by and made a comment I was cute. They stopped down the block for a confab then came back, so I invited them to sit down. That was it. When we went for the walk Kira kept nudging her tit in my arm. I hope I don’t have a stain in my trousers.”

At six thirty they took the subway to Brooklyn. They flagged a cab and went over to Kira’s house first. The door opened and Charlie went inside for a minute or two. Finally he came out the door with Kira. The cab driver’s jaw dropped. “Holy shit. That will make your day!”

Kira wore a black dress punctuated with matching diamond necklace and earrings. She casually carried a coordinated fur wrap over her left arm. She had on some makeup, but didn’t appear overdone. She could have just stepped out of a Sachs or Tiffany’s advertising shoot. They slid in the cab and Peter gave the driver a nod. They sped off for Katerina’s address. “Had to go in and get the nod from the father, doncha know. Seemed like a nice man. Kira’s mother gave me an obvious once over. They let us out of the house together, so I guess I passed inspection.”

Kira smiled, “Well, it impressed her you came in a cab and not on a scooter. Plus, I think this is the first date I’ve been on where the man was wearing a suit. Usually it’s bowling shirts and jeans.”

Peter went to the door at Katerina’s house. He rang the bell and after a minute was let inside. Several minutes passed and Peter emerged with Katerina on his arm. She was going to be a traffic stopper all night thought Charlie, his mouth slightly agape. He got a poke in his side and quickly turned to Kira. “You are supposed to be paying attention to me!” she said in a tone that Charlie wasn’t sure how serious it was.

Charlie was in a box and would have been just as well off to say nothing. “I was just trying to catch a glance of her mother, perhaps.”

Katerina was dressed in an ice blue dress that went from her neck to the ground, with a healthy split up the left side. She carried a blue-white fur wrap across her shoulders. Katerina also had on a minimum of makeup and her only jewelry was a pair of dangling platinum abstract shapes on her ears. Charlie wanted to pinch himself; he was sure he was having a dream.

The driver delivered them onto a quiet street in the twenties and stopped in front of a small, street level storefront. ‘Emil Cafe’ was printed in quiet elegance on the entrance and one opaque window.

The quartet walked into the lobby. The maitres-d looked up from his podium, “Yes?” he asked with an air of suspicion, as if these people might be in the wrong establishment.

“Bransford, party of four for 7:30.”

The maitres-d studied his book for a second and said, “One moment please, sir” and disappeared into the dining area. In just a few seconds the maitres-d returned with another gentleman. The second offered, “Mr. Bransford?” Peter nodded. “Welcome. I’m Emil and we are honored you chose our establishment this evening.” He ushered the group into the dinning room.

“Of course, you will be my guest tonight.” Emil explained as he set down black menus. “If you have a desire for something and don’t see it on the menu, just let me know.”

The menus had no prices. Charlie looked worried and leaned slightly toward Peter. “No prices, buddy. What’s the deal?”

Peter smiled and leaned in, “Didn’t you hear him? He said we are his guests. No charge.”

Charlie’s eyes got real large and he mouthed, “You’re shitting me!” Peter just shook his head and gave Charlie the “later” sign.

“What looks good, ladies?” The menu was in French and Peter anticipated some need for explanation.

Katerina answered first. “Lets go for the escargot and the onion soup. I would like the lobster along with the spinach soufflé and carrots.”

“I would like the beef along with the mushrooms and green beans.” said Kira.

Peter was beaming. They spoke French, too! “Charlie, need any help?”

“Not now. It’s hard to beat lobster. I’ll go along with Katerina.”

The wine steward appeared, “May I interest you in a nice aperitif? Perhaps Compari? Four? Thank you and with your meal are you having beef? Two beef. Fine. We are featuring a fine 26 Rothschild, will that be suitable, Yes? And with the lobster we have an elegant cabernet sauvignon. Fine. I’m sure you will enjoy them. A few minutes later a waiter delivered the aperitifs.

Kira leaned toward Peter. “This is five-star, isn’t it? And personal attention from the owner! How do you rate this? You’re not some secret millionaire are you? Not that it matters, but we never have talked about what you do for a living.”

Peter smiled, “Don’t get too excited. We aren’t secret millionaires. As far as the service goes, I’ll explain later. Let’s just relax and enjoy our meals.”

The waiter appeared and took their food orders. They chatted amongst themselves. Every now and then Charlie would scan the room and find an older pair of eyes staring at either Katerina or Kira.

They finished the meal and after dinner drinks. It was near time to leave. The girls asked to be excused. As the men pulled back their chairs Emil appeared. Katerina spoke in his ear. He spoke back to her ear and the girls headed off to the ladies room..

The men sat again. Emil asked. “May I get you something else? No? Are you continuing your evening in the village? Yes? Any place in particular? Yes the Blue Note is among the best. Have a good time.” The men both rose and shook his hand expressed their thanks for the meal and the hospitality. Peter tentatively inquired if leaving a tip was in order. Emil shook his head no. Everything was taken care of, including the waiters. “It was my pleasure to have the occasion to serve brave men such as you.” Charlie looked at Peter. Peter just rolled his eyes a bit.

The girls returned and the men helped them with their wraps. “Some music, ladies? The Blue Note is just a few blocks. Shall we walk off some of Emil’s good food or take a cab?” The girls said walk, so they did.

At the Blue Note there was a long queue waiting to get in. Music from inside came through a small loudspeaker over the entrance. Peter looked at his watch. The first set should be ending soon. “This is probably the last number of the first set. I hope we can get in for the second set.” They headed for the end of the line. They had barely reached the end of the line when a man came out of the door, searched the scene for a second, spotted a likely group and walked to them. “Mr. Bransford?”

“Right here.”

“Mr. Bransford, I’m Jerry, the manager. You can come in for immediate seating.”

“Well, that’s mighty nice of you, Jerry. Is the band near the end of the last number?” The group started heading for the door.

“Yes, but you never know exactly when these guys are going to be finished, they have been blowing away on this number for nearly 15 minutes now, I think they have run out of combinations of solos and duets to play, if you know what I mean.”

“Well, I think it would be really rude of us to go in before they finished. Will our seats wait for us?”

“Oh , yes. Your seats will be there. And I must say, that is mighty considerate of you to wait. Sometimes we get people who want to make an appearance, if you know what I mean.”

Peter leaned into Jerry as if getting ready to share the family secret for baked beans, “Trust me on this buddy, that isn’t who we are. We just happened to luck out and meet two gorgeous women. We are just regular guys.”

“Well, I don’t know how regular you are. Emil called and said you were to get the best seats and carte blanche. That’s all I need to hear.” They were near the door. The band stopped and the applause died out after a few moments. Peter indicated they would wait for the people leaving after the first set to clear before they went in. Jerry responded, “You really aren’t from around here, are you?”

“What? Is there a sign on my back: tourist?” Peter laughed.

“No, its just that a lot of the big shots around here think they can walk all over everyone. You must be someone special if you rate a call from Emil, that’s all. I’m just glad to see you ain’t one of them flaming ass holes we get from time to time. Eduardo, from over at Cantina España calls on occasion with a VIP, they are always assholes. I’m just happy Emil sent over someone who has some class. Nice ladies, by the way. They wouldn’t possibly be your sisters, would they? No? I didn’t think so.”

The crowd thinned and Jerry escorted them in. The cover charge was waived. He offered them a choice of seats, either next to the middle of the stage or across the aisle. They chose the across the aisle seats. Charlie and Peter thanked Jerry for the consideration. Jerry stopped for a moment and said, “Look, whoever you are, you get first class treatment from me anytime you want. I really mean it. It is so nice to meet people who appreciate a favor. I mean it.” he leaned down to Charlie and said, “Look, send me some of your discards, if you know what I mean.” Charlie just smiled at him and raised his eyebrows.

Drink orders were taken. Kira leaned over toward Peter and said, “Okay. Enough is enough. Emil’s was more than I ever expected in my life from anyone, let alone a first date. But, front of the line here, with preferred seating? If you aren’t playboy millionaires, maybe you’re entertainment critics for the paper? Come on, it’s time to let us know. We were expecting someplace nice, like maybe the Four Seasons, but not personal, black menu service at Emil’s. And you said a jazz club. I thought maybe some dive across the river, not Blue Note. It’s impossible to get in here on a Friday night. What gives?

Peter replied, “Do you think we would take the two most stunning women in the city to just anyplace?”

“You didn’t know we weren’t going to wear jeans.”

“We wouldn’t have cared if you had. We are thrilled that you considered going out with us.”

“Well, you seem like really sweet guys. Not like the lugs we usually meet.”

“Okay, here is the deal. I have a cousin who works here in the city. He isn’t anybody famous, but he makes friends real easy. He did a big favor for Emil a couple of years ago, so now Emil will do just about anything for him. I called my cousin to see if he could make some suggestions about a nice place to take you ladies for dinner. He asked what we had in mind and I said something near the Village and something we could afford and that we wanted to maybe stop in someplace after dinner for some cool sounds.”

Kira looked more than skeptical.

Peter noticed the look and continued with what he considered more sincerity, but it came across as urgency. “He said Emil’s would be good for dinner, that it wouldn’t break our pocketbooks and Emil would see about getting us a table at a club afterwards. The only thing I can think of is that he must have found some way to really jack up Emil, and I don’t know what that might be. I really had nothing to do with it. The only thing I had was a cousin who has a good connection with Emil.

Peter noticed he was leaning a bit too far forward and sat back in his seat. “Now, are you having a good time?”

Kira turned her attention from Peter and looked at Charlie, “Being treated like a queen is the best there is. I will always remember this night. And if the next time doesn’t include a five star restaurant, that will be Okay.”

“Pizza?” Charlie asked with mock innocence.

Kira took the bait. “I’ll show you Pizza. No! No pizza on any dates. My rule from here on is no pizza until after marriage.”

Charlie smiled at Kira. She got the message and waved her hand at Charlie in mock disgust.

They chatted away until the band returned and started playing. During the first number the sax player was midway though his solo and had just completed a marvelous riff and the rest of the audience was offering what can best be called cued applause. Kira stood up and cheered and put her fingers between her teeth and gave out a tremendous whistle. Somebody else from the far end of the room lost his inhibitions on Kira’s cue and yelled, “Get it on brother!” There were a few other random hoots and one could almost feel the mood of the crowd change. The sax player nodded and doubled up his solo.

The bass player was next with a solo and the sudden electrification of the crowd inspired him and he went into 64 bar solo followed by a nod to the drummer for another 32 bars of back and forth. The piano player and the sax player sensed what was happening mid way through the bass solo and left the stage. They took the few steps over to the bar to join the crowd until their turn came around again. At the end of the back and forth the crowd went wild, led by Kira. The drummer took over.

The drummer was nearing the end of his solo and nodded to the bass player who came back with a snatch of the melody line which was followed by some more drumming, the sax player joined the group again, more drumming, the piano player returned to get into the act and the drummer did his final riff. The crowd was on its feet, whooping and hollering. The band went back to the melody line, did a couple of vamps and brought the room to complete silence as it wound the song down to nearly nothing. The band and the crowd were joined at the hip. The band knew it and the crowd knew it. The drummer gave the lightest of taps on a cymbal indicating the finish. There was a second of absolute silence. The crowd erupted in applause and cheers.

After the applause died the sax player took the microphone and started to speak. Instead of the usual background chatter he would have to either overcome or ignore, the audience was silent. “Thank you. Now we’re having fun.” The crowd erupted again. He announced the next song.

The situation only got better. Normally the band would have played for an hour. It was well after midnight. No one left and the bar area was absolutely jammed. The sax player made a comment to the piano player and they wrapped it up. After the applause died down the sax player took the mike, “This has been a great evening, and I hate to stop, but the old chops are starting to give out. Thank you for your participation. Good night.” The place erupted in applause as the players started packing up and leaving the stage. After a minute the applause finally gave up. The room was electric with conversation.

Katerina leaned in to the group, “Wasn’t that thrilling. I’ve never been a part of something so exciting! She turned to Peter, grabbed his head in her hands and planted a prolonged kiss right on his mouth. “Thank you for such a wonderful night!” she said after releasing him.

They ordered another round of drinks and waited for the crowd to thin, although the crowd didn’t seem to be in any hurry to end the magic they had witnessed. Kira leaned into the table, “You two have done a masterful job of keeping us talking about ourselves all afternoon and evening, but all we know about you two is one of you is from Pittsburgh and the other from Iowa. It’s time to do a little explaining. No one gets this kind of treatment in this town. And weren’t you taking a real chance booking a place like Emil’s when you didn’t have any reason to expect us to be dressed nice?”

Peter looked a bit frustrated. “Kira, Katerina, let me take one thing at a time. I know some of this is a bit too much, and I honestly don’t know exactly how it is things worked out the way it did. In a way, we are kind of just along for the ride as you are. Next, I’m delighted you both are able to look so beautiful this evening. It is more than I would have ever expected. If you would have come to the door in a skirt and a blouse, I would have been happy. Actually, just the fact that you came along is enough. Some day I’ll try to find out what it was my cousin said to Emil and set the record straight.”

Peter looked at Charlie. Charlie took a deep breath; there was no escape. “Who are we? We are just two sailors.” Kira gave a curious reaction. “We are in the Navy. We are on leave and came to town to meet women. We met you. I’m very happy to say that we met you. This day.... God, this day seems like it has been two or three days. I can’t believe it. This morning I was in Norfolk, Virginia. Peter came down from Connecticut. Peter’s cousin has an apartment he is letting us use for the weekend. That’s it. We are just a couple of sailors.” Charlie was pensive, “Enlisted men at that, not even officers.” Another pause. “So that’s it in a nutshell. We aren’t anybody famous or rich. We aren’t anything other than two sailors looking to have a good time.”

Charlie was anxious about his announcement. Peter’s seemingly improbable scheme had worked as advertised, but Charlie had been worried all along about the reception they would get when the moment of truth arrived, the moment when they revealed they were sailors. And this was the moment.

Kira looked at Charlie, wrapped an arm through his and gave him a kiss. “Being a sailor is fine with me. I would rather have a nice honest sailor than any of the phony guys who try to impress us with BS and want us to think they are something they aren’t.”

Relief flooded through Charlie’s brain with Kira’s response. Charlie looked at her, “I just hope you understand that a lot of what happened tonight was a fluke. We couldn’t afford to do something like this more than once a year if we had to pay for it, and I still don’t know why we got the treatment we did. The most important thing I want to know is if you will see me again, knowing that the next time won’t be Emil’s?”

Kira leaned over to his ear and softly said, “Well, we aren’t done seeing each other for tonight, are we?” She looked in his eyes, then went back to his ear, “Just try to not see me again!” She sat back and gave him a smile with a quick, soft kiss on the lips. Charlie was just about ready to burst.

Katerina looked at Peter and said, “You came all the way to New York to find a date? Peter, you’re a silly man. I’m glad you didn’t try to make me think you were something else. You certainly know how to make a woman feel special. But look me in the eye and tell me once more that you’re a sailor.”

Peter looked into the deep blue eyes, searching out all of their beauty. “Katerina, I’m a sailor in the United States Navy.” He paused for a moment, “Nothing more.”

“I’m happy. I was worried you were a college boy throwing around daddy’s money. Tell me sailor, are you brave? Is that why Emil took care of us? I could see in his eyes he was proud to be doing something for someone, but I couldn’t figure out why. Now I have an idea. Maybe you aren’t just an ordinary sailor. Are you a hero?”

“I’m not a hero. My cousin may have said something that tripped Emil’s trigger, I honestly have no idea. Anyway, I don’t look to be a hero unless I could be one for you.” Peter couldn’t believe he said that.

Katerina rolled her eyes, leaned in and gave him a brief kiss, “We will see about that.”

They left the Blue Note. It was nearly 1:30. The air now had a slight chill, and the girls pulled their wraps around their shoulders and pulled into the men for additional warmth. Peter broached the subject, “Coffee? Home? Coffee at the apartment?”

Kira looked up into Charlie’s face, “The apartment sounds nice to me.” Katerina just gave Peter a smile and a slight lets-go-with-them movement of her head.

Chapter 6

9[cap1] :30 Saturday Morning, Greenwich Village.

Charlie was asleep. He was having this wonderful dream of beautiful women and passionate sex. There was a soft voice talking. He slowly ascended through layers of sleep. He opened his eyes and had no idea where he was. The voice continued. “Yes, mother everything is fine, I just wanted to call and let you know I’m all right. I will tell you later. Yes mother, well I will have to come home for some other clothes. I don’t know, okay? All right. Yes, mother. Goodbye.”

Charlie turned toward the voice. All he could see was the back of a woman wearing a man’s shirt, sitting on the side of the bed. In a flash the sleep left his mind. It wasn’t a dream! There was Kira, talking on the phone, wearing his shirt. He waited for her to finish. After she hung up the phone he reached around her and pulled her to his side. She was startled momentarily, but willingly turned toward him as he drew her near. They exchanged a long passionate kiss.

“Tell me I’m dead and this is heaven,” he whispered as he started a slow caress.

Kira jumped back and looked at him, “Why do you want that?”

“That way this would never end,” he replied as he once again drew her near.

The smell of cooking bacon broke the spell. Soon there was a soft knock on the door, it was Katerina.

“Are you alive in there?”

“Yes, we are.” replied Kira as Charlie was shaking his head no.

Katerina opened the door just enough to poke her head in. “You decent?” Seeing Charlie still under the covers she opened the door a bit more, revealing that she, too, was clad only in a man’s shirt. “I have breakfast started. Peter is in the shower, but should be out soon.” She carried in two cups of steaming coffee.

Charlie responded, “Well, tell him to hurry, I have to pee.”

Katerina laughed and closed the door as she left. Charlie fumbled through the pile of clothes on the floor and found his shorts. He started to leave the room. “Where are you going? “ asked Kira.

“ I gotta pee!”

“What about Peter?”

“As long as he stays in the shower I’ll probably miss him.”

Charlie returned soon. Kira had gone into the kitchen. Charlie gathered up his trousers and pulled them on and put on a tee shirt. He gathered up the remaining clothes and stuffed them in a laundry bag. He made the bed and hung Kira’s dress on a hangar. He tossed her bra and panties on the bed, then left the room. Peter came out of the bathroom still toweling his hair. “Next!”

“I’ll wait ‘til later,” Charlie replied

The four gathered around the table for breakfast. Katerina got everything on the table seemingly at once. “I noticed that the refrigerator only has bacon, eggs, orange juice, English muffins and butter in it.” Katerina said nonchalantly.

Peter, finishing a sip of coffee said, “There wasn’t anything in it when we came yesterday. We figured we wouldn’t want to go out for breakfast, so that’s all we bought. This place is normally empty. My cousin keeps a couple of changes of clothes here in case he has to stay in town for some reason and Sharon keeps a dress or two here in case she gets trapped or for when they take in a late show. Maybe you girls can see if any of her stuff will fit. Keep you from having to wear your evening dresses during the day. Sharon wouldn’t mind, that I’m certain of.”

“I’m going to have to meet this cousin, that is all there is to it!” exclaimed Katerina.

“I would love for you to. They are the only relatives I have around here and they are really nice people. He is considerably older than me, and I had not seen him for several years until I went to Connecticut. I called him one day last year to see about getting together with them and spent a great weekend with them at their home in New Jersey. I had no idea about this place. Great setup, isn’t it?”

“I suppose you bring all of your weekend dates here?” Katerina said with a suspicious look

Peter blushed. He nearly turned purple he blushed so hard from the top of his head to the bottom of his neck. “ I wish that were the case. This is the first weekend I’ve spent with a woman here. I have to confess that I haven’t had a lot of luck trying to meet women, and most of them don’t want to have anything to do with me after they find out I’m a sailor.”

“Oh, poor Peter,” said Katerina, “I didn’t mean to embarrass you. And those other girls are stupid for what they missed out on. I’ll have something to do with this sailor.”

After breakfast the girls found Sharon’s clothes were definitely designed for an older woman and they wouldn’t have fit too well, especially on the slender Katerina. The men, in finest military fashion, decided a strategy session was in order. They would get together again that night, if the girls were willing. The girls commented that they were not only willing, but expecting to do so. “Okay, okay, Just checking.” The girls would get back into their evening clothes, the guys would put them in a cab and send them back to Brooklyn. They would pick up the girls again about seven and go out for dinner, or maybe a show. How about a show and a late bite to eat? Charlie had never seen a Broadway show. What did they want to see? What was playing. Anything? Okay, we will come up with a play and a light meal afterwards. Don’t dress too snazzy tonight. Tomorrow? Kira’s mother invites everyone to their house for dinner at 2 PM.

Charlie went out and found a cab. After the girls left Peter went to the corner store and brought back a paper. “Check out what’s playing then we will see what we can do about tickets. The USO usually has some.”

1:45 Sunday afternoon. Brooklyn. The girls had been sent home earlier in the morning. Peter and Charlie walked up to the house and rang the bell. Kira let them in after a greeting kiss for Charlie. Katerina was there and she greeted Peter with a kiss after they came in the door. Kira called out and her mother and Katerina’s mother came out of the kitchen. Kira’s father appeared from another part of the house. Introductions were exchanged and a glass of wine offered. They all sat around for a few minutes exchanging pleasantries. A timer in the kitchen sounded and all of the women rose to attend to whatever was beckoning.

“Kira tells me you young men are sailors.” Kira’s father said, his accent left no doubt what his first language was..

“Yes, that is right,” said Charlie as Peter nodded in assent.

“Are you on ships? What kind of work do you do?”

“I’m on a ship stationed in Norfolk, Virginia. I work in the engine room as a mechanic.”

Peter followed, “I have a shore assignment in Groton, Connecticut. I work with electronics.”

Kira’s father brightened, “Oh, electronics. Do you work with computers? I have been working with computers for years. You know, they are going to be the wave of the future. It won’t be long before every office has one. The size is getting smaller and smaller every day.”

“I don’t work on computers too much, mostly radio equipment and test equipment.”

“Well, maybe you would like to see what I have in my basement, come along.” He rose and the two men followed him.

In the basement was a table with a keyboard and a monitor. A pair of cables went up to the ceiling and across to a three bay instrument rack. One bay held two tape drive units; another was filled top to bottom with some unidentified devices that had nothing on the front except for a pair of fuses and a neon power on indicating light. The third row just had one unit, devoid of any markings at all. Next to the machine sat a bench with what appeared to be a typewriter of sorts.

“I assembled this from parts being discarded at the bank. They get bigger machines every year or so. It is wonderful.”

“Pardon my ignorance, sir, but just what is it you do with this?” asked Charlie.

“Good question, good question; smart young man. I currently use it to calculate orbits of asteroids for a friend of mine who is an astronomer. But, of course, it could be used for just about anything. At the bank nearly all of our transactions are accounted for by the computer. This computer can easily handle stress calculations, for instance, on your ship. But I am currently having problems on the A tape drive. Would you care to look at it?”

“Sure, be glad to. I see these are just standard IBM drives. What are the symptoms?”

“It seems to get a signal but then it doesn’t spin. It tensions and then relaxes” Kira’s father explained as he brought out a folder of schematics. Peter studied the schematics for a few minutes. Charlie looked on, but didn’t have anything to offer.

“Does it do it both ways?” asked Peter after a minute or so of studying schematics. Kira’s father nodded. “and the other drive works all right? Changing tape doesn’t do anything?” more nods. “Where have you checked?” Kira’s father indicated the areas he had been trouble shooting. “When did it stop working? What were you doing?”

“It worked one night and the next night it didn’t work.”

“Do you have a cat?”

“Why, yes. The wife has a cat.”

Peter went around to the back of the racks and saw the expected maze of patch cables. “Got more cables, parallel?” A cable appeared. Peter changed a cable and looked closely at the one he had removed. “Try it now.”

Kira’s father typed a few commands into the computer and the tape drive whirred for a few seconds, stopped and went in the other direction. Kira’s father uttered a few disbelieving profanities under his breath in Russian as Peter came around the front of the rack. “Young man, how did you do that so fast? You say you do not know computers, yet you fix this one without breaking a sweat.”

“You did all the work, sir. You checked everything I would check, so no need for me to do it again. It was a matter of elimination. The signal from the feedback loop wasn’t getting back to the computer, so it would tension, but since there was no feedback signal it wouldn’t release the other motor. Prevents the drive from running unchecked at the end of the reel should the tape run off the end.”

“But what about the cat?”

“I just guessed. I was certain it was in the patch cable, but it hadn’t been moved lately so I figured maybe it broke by some other method and a cat climbing on it might cause the problem.”

Kira’s father shook his head and muttered some more Russian. Peter and Charlie had to restrain themselves from laughing. They were always amused by how vulgar everyday Russian was.

“You say you are sailors. If this is what the United States has for sailors I think I should call back to Moscow right now and tell them to stop trying to keep up. We didn’t have people this good in the space program whose only job was computers. You fix a machine you never see before in a few minutes. I don’t worry about my daughter. I tell Kristina she doesn’t worry about her daughter. Not with young men like these.”

“You men come wash your hands for dinner,” came a voice from the top of the stairs.

“Just like home,” Charlie said with a smile.

In a tone suggesting resignation to the inevitable Peter agreed, “I guess some things are universal.”

Lamb was served, along with several vegetables and breads and a generic Concord wine. For only having been in the house a half hour or so, the conversation was dominated by Kira’s father going on and on about what fine young men the girls brought home, how delighted he was his daughter had been smart enough to fend off all of the loafers and gangsters in the neighborhood in favor of smart young men like these.

Both Kira and Katerina blushed from embarrassment, and Kira’s mother tried to get him to move on to something else, “Leonid, you’re embarrassing your daughter and Katerina.”

He made a retort in Russian, nothing ugly, just a retort, which was followed by a quick flurry of Russian from all three parents. Katerina called a halt to the discussion.

Katerina looked at the men sheepishly, “I’m sorry, they just get worked up at times.”

“Don’t worry,” said Peter, “I know it must be hard not to slip into your native language when there is something exciting.”

The argument had been about the fact that Leonid used the term gangster, which Kristina thought was directed to her because of her son.

The remainder of the meal passed in relative peace.

Charlie and Peter spent the following week and weekend in New York. The girls were going to school and had classes to attend in the mornings through Thursday. They spent the afternoons and early evenings in the Village with the boys. Studying was the excuse. Some studying actually was accomplished. Charlie helped Kira with her math and physical science courses, although she really didn’t need any help. Peter helped Katerina with English and American history. Katerina didn’t need much help, either[cap2] .

The following Sunday afternoon Charlie caught a train to Wilmington where he met up with another Starfish crewmember who lived in southern Pennsylvania for the drive back to Norfolk. For the time being, Heaven was over.

Peter returned Katerina to her house Sunday evening, early enough for him to return to Manhattan and catch the 10:15 train to New London. Meeting Peter and Katerina at the door was Katerina’s brother, Pavel.

“So, I finally get to meet the brave sailor who has stolen my sister’s heart!”

“Pavel!” Katerina chastised, “Don’t act so tough.”

He reached out his hand. “Come on in mister sailor man. Would you like a vodka? Perhaps a whiskey instead?

“I guess I have time enough for a shot. Thank you.” Said Peter, giving his best smile. He relaxed a little. Katerina left them for parts unknown.

The men went into the kitchen. Kristina said hello to Peter and commiserated about his having to leave. Peter assured her he would survive and he would be back the following weekend.

“What about poor Charlie?” Kristina asked. “Kira has really fallen hard for him. Will he be back next weekend, too?”

“I don’t know what he will be able to arrange. I have a feeling he will sell his soul to whoever he has to to be here, though.” They both laughed.

Pavel handed a shot glass with clear liquid in it to Peter. “To brothers-in-law? How about that?”

“Oh, I think that might be just a bit premature.” said Peter with good natured, feigned skepticism. “How about friendship, for now.”

“Friendship it is.” They bumped glasses and tossed back the shot.

Pavel placed the empty glasses next to each other and filled them to the brim. “You know, your friend, Charlie needs to be careful. There is another young man in the neighborhood who thinks Kira should be seeing him.”

“Well, wouldn’t that be up to Kira?” Peter asked while the hair on the back of his neck started to rise.

“Not as far as some of these guys are concerned.”

“Well, let me ask you this. You have a reputation in the neighborhood for having a certain amount of, what do you say? Influence? That’s it: influence. Couldn’t you influence this guy to let Kira make up her own mind? You know, and leave Charlie out of it?”

“I don’t have any reason to get involved one way or the other. There is nothing in it for me to get involved.”

“I’m sure your sister would be happy. She and Kira are tight.”

“I’m not really on speaking terms with this guy. He doesn’t really listen to me, if you know what I mean.”

“Yeah, I hear you.”

They tossed back the second shot. Peter and Katerina left. She walked with Peter to the subway station and they kissed farewell.

The [cap3] following weekend the group again spent the time doing the town in public and wrapped in each other in private. Peter’s cousin insisted on making arrangements for dinner again and this time he and Sharon would be there. They ate at Four Seasons on Friday night. Once again the girls were decked out in elegant gowns. Sharon made a comment about a designer that went right over the heads of all of the men, but the girls smiled.

“Barcinea” stated Katerina, giving a smile to Kira.

Sharon gave a shrug, as if to say “What’s a Barcinea?”

“Barcinea is our friend from the refugee compound in Italy. She does nice things with fabric, don’t you think? She would like to get established in the United States, but is having a hard time. She loans dresses to Kira and me. We model for her. Kira’s father found some financing for her. Not much, but enough to keep her alive for a while. You should call her, she has some nice things that you would really like. We get jewelry from one of her friends.”

Katerina turned to Don. “Now, I must ask you, cousin who can make miracles happen, how did you get us free meals at Emil’s. How did you get us preferred seating at Blue Note?”

Kira blushed, “Katerina, you know better than to ask something like that!”

Katerina was not bothered by the rejoinder. “Emil treated us like we, well it wasn’t we it was obviously Peter and Charlie. Let me start again. It was obvious he thought our men were very special. Peter and Charlie deny being special. They claim they are just plain old sailors. No, I’m sorry. Charlie says he is a dirty old sailor.”

Don smiled, “I don’t know what to tell you. Several years ago I did a favor for Emil that he took to be extraordinary. I would have done it for anyone else I knew, it just happened this person owns a five star restaurant. When I called a couple of weeks ago I just mentioned that I had a cousin who is a sailor who had just returned from a top secret dangerous mission and he needed a nice place to eat that night with his lady. Could Emil find a table for them and keep them away from the $500 wines?

Don looked at each of the group, looking a bit more apologetic than one would expect. “That is all I did. I figured Peter and Charlie should have enough money to pay for a good dinner, but I didn’t want them to be embarrassed by picking a wine from the list that sounded good, only to find out it was obscenely expensive. I had no idea Emil would turn out to be so generous.”

Turning to Charlie, Kira asked, “And just what was this top secret dangerous mission all about?”

Charlie and Peter looked at Don. They wanted to hear what he had to say as much as the girls did, considering the mission was indeed highly classified and more than a bit dangerous, but it was doubtful Don had any idea.

Don looked around a little. Finally he came clean. “So maybe I embellished a little bit. Look, we're talking Emil’s here, right. We aren’t talking Burger King. The mission was to get the four of you a table at Emil’s. I did that. Don’t beat me up because I did a good thing.”

Katerina leaned over and pierced his eyes with hers. “We don’t mean to beat you up. We just wanted to know why Emil went crazy when we came in.”

“Emil called later that week. From his comments I gathered that Peter and Charlie showed up with super models on their arms and he was so mesmerized by your beauty that he couldn’t help himself.”

“Jeezez” complained Peter and Charlie in unison. Katerina gave Don a little tap of exasperation on his arm. Sharon just rolled her eyes.

“All right!” Don said in resignation. “After talking to Peter I stopped by and chatted with Emil. He joined the Navy at the outbreak of the war and served as an aircraft gunner in the Navy. He was shot down and saved by a submarine crew. He has a soft spot for submariners.”

When the check arrived later on Don grabbed it. Charlie and Peter protested to no avail. “Guys, it’s no big deal! First off, it will get buried, so don’t think I’m being generous. Second, it was great just to have a chance to be with you again, Peter. I don’t suppose as long as being with Katerina is an option that you will be spending any time with us. And both Sharon and I have really enjoyed the opportunity to meet your friends. Pardon me, Katerina, I really don’t mean to embarrass you. Peter, how in the world did you meet such a stunning young lady? You too, Charlie.”

The girls blushed just enough to indicate modesty. Sharon looked a bit peeved, although one might suspect she was enjoying the moment, also.

Katerina put her hand on Peter’s wrist to interrupt his answer and replied, “He didn’t have anything to do with it. We were cruising one afternoon and saw these guys and decided they were either going to pick us up or we would die trying!”

The table erupted in laughter. Charlie, who had just taken a sip of coffee almost choked.

As Charlie was still recovering Sharon said, “Well both of you girls made a smart choice. Peter is the nicest man you will find and I think Charlie is nice too. And you both make handsome couples.”

The meal broke up after that. Sharon and Don extended an invitation to their house, but were turned down, as they expected.

Chapter 7

The [cap4] following Tuesday Charlie was called to the Executive Officer’s stateroom. After exchanging formalities the XO said. “Stone. I have a set of T.A.D. orders here for you to the Polk for eight weeks. A car crash wiped out a third of M division, including their two senior first class. All I can tell you is they are not deploying, but they are on a training schedule of some kind.”

The XO paused, Charlie jumped in, more than a bit agitated, but he kept his emotions under control. “Sir, we just got back. I haven’t had a second lung full of clean air yet. I took the second week of duty so the married guys could have the time off. Any way out of this?”

“I can sweeten the pot. You had the first week off, correct?”

“Yes Sir.”

“All right. That goes in the basket. In eight weeks we probably won’t be here. More than likely we will be down south on ASW exercises with the bird farmers, don’t repeat that, by the way.”

Charlie nodded.

“When Polk is done with you, but no later than eight weeks, you return to the squadron and report directly to the Squadron Commander’s office, not anywhere else. You go on unrestricted liberty until we come back, call in every second day and let them know generally where you are and that you’re alive. It should work out to be at least three weeks. That’s the deal. Be on Polk no later than midnight Friday. The yeoman will have your orders ready by the time you can get packed.”

As far as the engine room went, Polk was nearly identical to Starfish. That is why Charlie, and the other two First Class Machinists Mates from Bluefish and Lapon were chosen. There were other parts that were similar, but Polk, an aging Lafayette class missile boat, had been heavily modified to act as a special operations submarine. On its deck it was currently sporting an SDV, Seal Delivery Vehicle.

After reporting Friday morning Charlie was told he had the rest of the day off and had duty Saturday. Saturday morning, shortly after muster, the Engineer, Main Propulsion Assistant and the M Division Chief made a tour with the three replacements through the engine room, auxiliary machinery room and reactor compartment. If one walked slowly the entire trip might take 10 minutes. After an hour and a half of being bombarded by questions, one right after another, the Engineer looked to the Chief, “Chief?”

“No problems at any level as far as I’m concerned.”

Nodding toward the officer, “Hank?”

“Taught me a few things I hadn’t thought about, to tell you the truth.”

“Well, I kind of feel the same way. Okay Stone, Henderson, Jacobs You’re qualified through Engineering Watch Supervisor. The Captain doesn’t go too much for enlisted watch officers, and wouldn’t sign off a first class anyway. But you all obviously have what it takes. Welcome aboard, thanks for being professional and enthusiastic. Stone, I know you just came off deployment, thanks for coming. Did they make it worth your while?”

“Everything is after the fact, of course, but if I get what the XO promised, I’ll be a very happy man.”

The officers left. The chief went over the watch bill and the work list. They were scheduled to provide training services for the SEALs starting the following Wednesday. Only a few small preventive maintenance items were remaining and the duty section junior men would accomplish those tasks before Monday. The schedule would be two weeks at sea, three days in, change Seal teams, repeat the schedule except at the end they would not drop off the second seal team, they would go north for cold water operations for one week, spend a week in New London mainly for Seal considerations then return to Norfolk following another week of training.

Tuesday [cap5] following1400 hours.

Charlie had the duty again, everything was relatively quiet on the boat as most of the ship’s company was on liberty. Charlie was sitting in a corner of the crews mess writing a letter to Kira. He had a portfolio for letter writing she gave him, including a picture of her provocatively posed in one of Barcinea’s more revealing gowns.

He was engrossed in his letter writing. He had completed four long pages and was still going to town. He just barely noticed the crowd gathering in the crews mess. He glanced up to see the SEAL company taking seats for a briefing. He went back to his letter.

Charlie blocked out the announcements being made by the tour guide, who had obviously done it before. At the conclusion of the briefing there was a bit of chatter and some of the SEALs got a cup of coffee or milk. A figure in camos stood next to Charlie. It took a few seconds before Charlie realized the figure wasn’t just passing by. He looked up.

Charlie was about to ask if he could help the visitor, but the visitor, a Lieutenant, spoke first. “Stone? Charlie Stone?”

Charlie looked at the visitor. The officer was well tanned and had a body that was obviously hard as a rock. Charlie thought the visitor was familiar, but not sure.

“Eddie. Eddie Rawlins from Jefferson, Iowa. I was a year behind you. We were in FFA together.”

“Eddie? Scrawny little Eddie Rawlins who could barely maneuver a seed sack? Jesus Christ!” Charlie slid from the confines of the mess table and bench to shake Eddie’s hand. “Great to see you! How are your folks? Better yet, how’s your sister? Christ, I don’t believe this, you’re a fucking Seal!”

Eddie sat down. “I’m doing great. The folks are well, thank you. My sister is still waiting for you.” He pointed at the picture, “this come with the folio?” He was inferring it was just a stock photo sold with the folio.

The implication went right past Charlie. “Yes it did. It was a present from her. The picture doesn’t do her justice. Great to see you. What is your status here? I don’t know how you guys are organized or anything. Just here for two weeks?”

“No, I’m the training officer and I’ll be with you for the entire cycle.”

“Man, this is great!” Charlie’s enthusiasm stopped suddenly, “I don’t know if you heard, but there was a crash that wiped out a bunch of guys.” Eddie nodded. “I just got here Friday. Had my qualification walkthrough on Saturday. I don’t know anyone on the crew yet, so this is great seeing you!”

“I won’t have much time once we get under way. All of our activities are external. Where do I find you if I have the chance?”

“Here or in the engine room.”

“I’ll find you when I can. God, it’s always good to see someone from home. I have to run now, but will see you tomorrow while we are transiting.”

The following afternoon [cap6] Charlie had the Engine Room Supervisor watch. Charlie spent the first hour of the watch making a thorough inspection of the spaces and stopping by the lower level engine room and AMR2 to get to know his watch standers a bit. Eddie came back to chat.

Eddie and Charlie went to the aft end of shaft alley where it was quiet and away from the heat of the turbines and steam lines. The shaft that coupled the turbines to the screw rotated silently as the boat sped through the water. The only noise was an occasional squish of hydraulics operating the stern planes and rudder. A couple of storage chests with cushions served as seats.

They got caught up on old times and how it was scrawny Eddie ended up in the Seals. Eddie said he had a growth spurt in his junior year and senior year of high school. He got a Naval Academy appointment and while there he was on the swimming team which helped him bulk up. He became interested in the Seals and qualified. He became a training officer after three years in the fleet.

“So, without mentioning any names or dates, have you had any actual deployments?” Charlie asked.

“All I can say is our unit has a Navy Unit Citation and I was there when it happened.”

Charlie said, “Well, what I really want to know is whether or not you ever ran into a spook named Peter Bransford along the way. He’s an ET.”

“We don’t get to know the crews real well and we wouldn’t know whether someone was a rider or not. What did you say this guy’s name was? Bransford? Hmmm. wait a minute I know who might be able to answer. Where’s a phone.” They walked forward to the telephone. Eddie dialed up the missile compartment where the Seals had their gear stowed. “Yeah, Kelly, any of the divers there? See if Perkins is there, please.”

After a few seconds Perkins came to the phone. “Perkins. Mr. Rawlins. Can you spare a minute? Come back to shaft alley. Yes, that’s right, in the engine room, port side. Only take a couple of minutes. Port side.”

Petty Officer Perkins showed up in a minute, gingerly making this way past the turbines and reduction gear. He spotted the pair at the aft bulkhead.

“Perkins, this is Charlie Stone. We’re from the same hometown. I got a question for you. Do you remember the name of the guy that came up with the modification on our underwater talkers? You know, the mod that increased the battery life two or three times.”

Thomas thought for a few minutes. “Yes, sir. I know who you’re talking about. Chief Adams knew about this guy some how. The Chief had him examine every piece of gear we had to see if improvements could be made. That wasn’t the only change he suggested, but I remember that one change in particular. Ask the Chief. He will know.”

“Okay. Run him down and send him back here, please.”

Petty Officer Perkins left and a few minutes later Chief Adams appeared. After introductions Eddie asked the same questions.

“Bransford is the man you’re asking about, sir. Stationed in New London. Might be a short timer by now, but he would be your man. I’ve never seen anyone like him. I swear he can trouble shoot a circuit just by laying hands on the case. Chief Burnham told me about him. This guy is legendary. But, the legend is true as far as I’m concerned.”

The Chief was dismissed. Eddie followed Charlie around the spaces as he made his rounds. They stopped in the lower level engine room to relieve the watch for a head break.

“So, the answer is, yes, I know who Bransford is. I just had to get a jog. Why do you ask?”

“Peter and I were in boot camp and I ran into him on a deployment recently. We have become real close friends.”

“You got a honey like I saw the other day and a buddy? I would give up the buddy!”

“Very funny. You should see the girl he has. She literally stops traffic when she is dolled up. In fact, we met these girls at the same time, just a few weeks ago.”

“I guess that means my sister doesn’t have a chance then, does it? Guess I’ll have to write her and tell her to take her final vows at the convent.”

Charlie looked up from the log sheet he was reviewing, “Oh, sure. The most popular girl in her class, Homecoming Queen and Prom Queen, is sitting at home pining for some dorky tractor mechanic who is thousands of miles away in the Navy. Let’s see, where could we possibly start looking for holes in this story?”

“Well, I have to admit it’s a stretch, although she honestly does ask about you when I’m home and she sees your folks in church every Sunday. But, I was hoping you would fall for the bait and let me have the phone number of the honey in the picture.”

Charlie laughed. “Let me tell you something, mister muscle-beach-adonis-from-Canoe-U. This is the first girl I’ve met since I’ve been in the Navy who agreed to see me a second time. Oh, sure, I’ve met some girls in Norfolk, but they aren’t interested in sailors who are going to spend any time at sea. And submarine sailors? Forget it! And we scummy enlisted men don’t get invited to the country club affairs the way the wardroom does. Do you know when Starfish goes to Fort Lauderdale that there is this guy who arranges free golf all day at his country club and a party at night, complete with enough available women for each officer attendee? You guys get all the perks. No, you can’t have Kira’s phone number. I might be able to fix you up with her relatively ugly 22 year old neighbor, though.”

Eddie had started laughing when Charlie began his spiel and was nearly in tears at the end. He gasped, “How ugly is she?” before breaking into laughter again.

The lower level engine room watch returned. He looked at the officer dressed in camos who was bent over with laughter. Charlie cleared the mystery. “I was telling him about my love life. Always brings a tear.”

The watch replied, “I know what you mean. I’m still carrying a picture of a girl that dumped me a year ago.”

Charlie herded Eddie up the forward ladder to the upper level. They went through the door into AMR2 and went around to the ladder leading to the lower level. Charlie relieved the watch there.

Eddie finally brought himself under control. “So, do you really think you can fix me up with this girl?”

Charlie closed a deck plate hatch after viewing the water level in the bilge and grabbed the clipboard with the feed station log sheet.. “Well, first of all, we are talking New York City. Second, I don’t know what Kira can arrange one way or the other. But, if it looks like we can make it to New York together I’ll ask Kira to fix you up with someone. She is going to school, so I’m sure there would at least be a fat, homely class mate with thick glasses and zits who would give you a mercy date. Heck, you ought to be able to pick up some patrol widow at the O club.” Charlie initialed the sheet over the hour column.

“Nah, that ain’t my style. If some guy’s old lady is screwing around while he is gone, he has enough problems. I don’t want to get wrapped up in that shit. In this work you never know who you’re going to be working with on the next job. It would be really difficult to face Lt. Smith on the next run after servicing his wife a few weeks earlier. We depend on you guys too much, and we could all die by some subtle mistake that nobody would ever realize was an act of revenge. I see that high pressure air regulator over there. I know just enough that if you mess with that we could end up with a very serious accident. No thanks. I’ll take my chances with your co-ed.”

“Okay, just so you know there aren’t any promises.”

“You get me a girl half way as classy as Kira and I’ll be more than happy.”

The watch stander returned. “The Engineer is aft. Probably going to have a drill.”

Eddie took the cue. “I’ll get out of here before it starts.” Eddie and Charlie started up the ladder. They went their separate ways. Charlie went back into the engine room and Eddie headed forward. As he started up the steps into the reactor tunnel he felt his left arm get wet. The Engineer was standing there with a chemist who was supposedly drawing a reactor coolant sample at the sampling manifold. The Engineer had a squirt bottle in his hand.

“You, sir, have just been sprayed with contaminated water.”

Eddie froze. He had been had: caught up in a ship’s radiation drill. He relaxed and waited for the drill to take its course. The chemist announced the problem over a sound-powered phone. A second later an announcement was made over the 1MC, “Radiation Spill in AMR2. Response team muster in the crews mess.”

Instantly he heard the engine room door close and the ventilation change. The AMR watch stander appeared and slipped to one side to close a ventilation damper. Another enlisted man came quickly through the tunnel and reached in and brought the watertight door closed.

Eddie was now sealed in the AMR2 with three watch standers and the Engineer. He was expected to play the game to its conclusion, he knew that. So he stood like a statue, waiting for the drill to develop. After 5 minutes a figure appeared in a canary yellow suit and a breathing mask at the tunnel door. The forward tunnel door had been closed and the tunnel acted as an air lock. He took some general area measurements with a radiation detector and set a portable air sampler on the top step, in front of Eddie. The suited figure did not say anything. The engineer handed him a slip of paper when he had completed the air sample. Without looking at the paper the figure took his air sampler and exited into the tunnel, closing the door behind him.

A few moments passed and the word came over the 1MC that there was high airborne radiation levels in the AMR2 and all personnel in the AMR2 were to don emergency air breathing masks. After a few seconds the Upper Level Watch appeared wearing his mask and gave one to Eddie and the Chemist. The boat maneuvered to periscope depth and the order was given to ventilate AMR2 with the low pressure blower. The AMR watch returned with an emergency procedure bill in his hand and deftly shifted the dampers. The chemist reported the compartment rigged for ventilation with the low pressure blower.

A few seconds later the hum of the LP blower could be heard. The snorkel mast dipped and the head closed and all of a sudden the pressure dropped in the compartment. It was difficult to equalize ear pressure with the masks on. A second later the pressure rose again. The Engineer cursed the diving watch.

The drill progressed and after an hour of methodical operations it was finally over. Eddie made for the wardroom, where he was greeted with the expected level of joy. A few minutes later the Engineer showed up. “Always great to get a non nuke involved, but to get an unsuspecting rider is the best! Well done Mr. Rawlins! I say, you performed well. I was hoping you would take a few extra steps to contaminate the field, but you stopped right where you were. Excellent.”

Eddie gave a few mock bows. “Always glad to be of service, sir. Any thing we can do to help ship’s efficiency or morale. You know, my team does an excellent soft shoe routine, if you care for some entertainment!”

The officers broke out in laughter. With two weeks of stressful conditions ahead of every man on board, they all appreciated the fact that the Seal Team leader could start the trip off with a relaxed attitude.

At the end of the watch the messenger of the watch found Charlie and informed him the Captain requested his presence as soon as he was relieved.

Although the door to the stateroom was open, Charlie tapped on it to announce his presence. The Captain looked up from his desk. “Stone, sir. The messenger said to see you.”

“Come in and have a seat.” The captain’s quarters were small and efficient, but large enough for his chair and a visitor.

“Would you like the door closed, sir?” This was a standard question to ask the Captain, since the visitor would have to close the door as the Captain was blocked by the visitor.

“No, that’s Okay, this is informal. First of all, I apologize for not speaking with you sooner. I am grateful that you and the others could support us in this situation.”

“Yes, sir. We are sorry to have to be here under these circumstances. I know everyone is feeling the loss.”

“Well put. Were you acquainted with any of the deceased?”

“Yes sir. Richardson. He and I were in the same class in Nuclear Power School and Prototype. We occasionally saw each other at a school after that. We weren’t tight, but I know he was a four-oh sailor.”

“They were all good men, not a bad one in the bunch. Just like the rest of the crew. I am very fortunate to have the crew that I do.”

“Yes, Sir. I will do my best to maintain the standard.”

The Captain seemed distracted for a second, but returned to the scene. “Oh, it’s not that. The engineer spoke highly of all of you. You came from Starfish, correct?”

“Yes, Sir.”

“Well, I know that you didn’t get much recovery time and I hope the squadron will make it up to you somehow. I read the patrol summary. Well done. That was a difficult situation and a highly stressful one. Because of the services for our crewmen, I missed the briefing the medical people gave on the officer who was, ah, removed from duty. I’m wondering if you can shed any light on the situation.”

Charlie hesitated. The Captain interjected, “I’m not interested in gossip. I have a clinical interest in this. As you know I’m responsible for observing fitness for duty conditions, as are the department heads.”

Charlie rose and closed the door. After returning to his seat and giving a moment’s thought he started his recitation in an even, unemotional fashion. “The officer in question was a jaygee who was on his first deployment. He had been with us for about eight months. He seemed to be straight enough. He had a hard time not being an officer, if you know what I mean.”

Charlie paused. The Captain sensed Charlie was reluctant to discuss the situation. “Speak freely, Stone. This is man to man and it won’t be repeated and you can’t piss me off.”

“Yes, sir, Captain. It’s just that what I think might be relevant may not have any bearing on the situation, if you know what I mean.” The Captain nodded and signaled him to continue. “Captain, I think he just wasn’t mature enough to be on the boats. It was just that he was Academy and he seemed to go out of his way to make sure every enlisted man realized not only was he Academy, but also a Senatorial nominee and that he was from some important family that was highly connected. You know, it was like he didn’t understand what was important on the boat and what wasn’t. He was originally slated to be A-Weaps but he ended up as RC division officer. I don’t know the details on that. There was an incident early on involving a steward. I don’t know the details, but it took the XO to get things calmed down. I don’t know who finally set him straight, but he eventually seemed to realize being a non-qual overshadowed being an officer.

“Then there was the day he started spouting off about how important he was while he had his RC gang together. He just didn’t understand, Captain. We have this first class nuke ET, Winthrop, who is old money and high society Boston, along with being a Rhoades scholar. Winthrop asked where he wanted to start, family, connections or wealth.” The Captain rolled his eyes and slowly shook his head. He had heard the story before.

“Then Winthrop said ‘Since you’re a non-qual you’re currently of no value to anyone on this boat. And since all of the work that needs doing gets done on my say so, I control whether or not you look good as far as the Engineer is concerned. So, you can keep peddling your superior crap and see how far it gets you or you can save it for your mama.’ We never heard any thing further from him about anything. He hit the books and kept pretty quiet.

“I helped him through mechanical systems. He picked things up quickly and qualified EOOW before we went on deployment.” Charlie stopped for a moment, unsure of which details he could reveal. “Uhhhh. Okay. During the tactical situation he stood a forward watch as tracking officer on the evening watch, if I’m not mistaken. Every couple of days I would stop by the control room to see what was happening on my way to the EWS mid watch.

“My observations were that about twenty days into the tactical situation he started developing a tick, a kind of snorting cough. He would do it three times in a row, with varying intervals between. I’m not sure what set him off, considering the bottom watchers, the ice watchers and the diving officers had a much more intense job. The plot was damn near a gift, in my opinion.

“The tick slowly increased in frequency and it got to the point it was annoying the rest of the watch standers in his vicinity. In fact, one of the fire control operators threatened him about two days before he lost it.

“I wasn’t there when he actually failed open, so I don’t know if I can add anything.”

“Well, tell me what you heard. Did the doc say anything directly?”

“The doc told us that the officer was on watch and all of a sudden went into convulsive weeping. Ahh, lets see. An individual I’m not at liberty to identify apparently was anticipating the situation and kept the officer under control until the doc could get there with some sedatives. I never saw him again. He was confined to the wardroom area until we returned. They took him away all doped up in a government sedan after the pier cleared. They didn’t want to upset the families who had come to meet the boat. He wasn’t married and I don’t think Submarine Nancy was waiting for him.”

The Captain laughed. “Nice touch, Stone. Nancy wasn’t waiting for him. God, how does she do it ? She rarely misses a homecoming, yet the scuttlebutt is she has given up trying to screw every submarine sailor and has settled down with a skimmer.”

“Yes sir. A Gunners Mate. We were introduced a few years back.”

“You know Nancy personally?”

“We have shared a couple of beers, back when I was a newly qualified third class.”

“No need to go any further. I’ve heard this story before. Well, thanks for helping me out. We keep as up to date as we can on these things that interfere with completing the mission, but occasionally someone slips through.”

“Yes sir.”

“Thanks again for being here. I wanted to be sure you knew that I’m aware of your sacrifices and that I appreciate it.”

“Yes sir. Can’t say I was thrilled with the prospects when the orders came in. But, I’m here now and will do my absolute best.”

“Thank you.”

Charlie wrote Kira a letter every day, even though it wouldn’t go anywhere. In one of the letters, written close to the first break in the action, he mentioned the possibility of fixing up Eddie with a blind date.

Two weeks [cap7] after leaving port they returned and the Seal Team left. The mail was delivered and Charlie had a Kira letter for everyday they were gone waiting for him, along with a spattering of letters from his parents and a box of cookies from the church ladies. There was a post office form indicating a registered letter was waiting for him at the postal facility on the tender.

Charlie found the post office after asking directions from three different Spear crewmembers. The third was the most helpful, turning Charlie to face aft and pointing out the door on the port side of the passageway. The letter was from an attorney, that was all he could tell from the envelope.

Back on board Polk Charlie opened the letter. He had 30 days to respond to the letter or lose his eligibilty to participate in a class action recovery regarding a land transaction in Florida. Charlie thought for a few minutes and realized he only had 10 days, based on the date indicated in the letter. Charlie went to the Executive Officer and asked for some guidance. The XO read the letter. “I’m not sure what help the Navy can offer, Stone, but let me make a couple of calls for you and see if I can get you on the right track, at least. Do you have the contract? I’m sure that will be the first question.”

“Yes, well that is, it is at Marty Edwards’ place in Hampton. Marty is on Starfish. I’ll have to go over there.”

The second Seal Team came aboard the next day. This time Eddie avoided the ship’s drills. The second Wednesday [cap8] after leaving port, the Seal Team completed [cap9] its training and was back inside and dry as Polk sped up the coast for New London.

Chapter 8

On Thursday morning Polk tied up to a pier at the Submarine Base. Eddie told Charlie he would have the weekend free starting at noon on Friday[cap10] . Charlie went to the phone at the end of the pier and called Kira. She was waiting for his call. She was thrilled she would be able to see him that weekend. Charlie had not contacted Peter yet, so he did not know what he was doing. Kira had a date lined up for Eddie. No, she couldn’t bring herself around to asking a homely girl, it would be humiliating to the girl and not a very nice trick. Charlie felt a bit sheepish after the chastisement. Kira was right, but it would have been a good trick to pull on Eddie. They would see her at her house Friday afternoon, Eddie would rent a car.

Peter and Katerina had plans of their own. Eddie and Charlie could use the apartment if they wanted. Charlie had taken the duty for the other two sections on the earlier short turnaround, so he had the weekend free. Charlie asked Peter if Peter’s cousin, Don, could find an attorney for some advice about the land deal. Peter said he would call right away.

Later in the afternoon a steward found Charlie in the crews lounge, “Stone. Phone call for you in the Wardroom.”

Charlie thanked him and went to the wardroom. Two officers were going over reports. Charlie picked up the phone, “Stone here. Yes sir. Yes sir. That is correct sir. I’m in New London at the moment. FloridaFamily, all one word, Developers. Yes sir, I have the original contract and the letter in possession. …Yes sir. I can be in your office around noon tomorrow, I think. It all depends on how the trains are running, I guess. …Yes sir. …Let me write that address down. 120 Wall Street? Oh shit! Excuse me sir, I’m sorry. Can I afford to talk to you? …Are you sure? …Yes sir. I didn’t realize you guys worked like that. Well, thank you very much. I appreciate you looking at this for me. Yes sir, I’ll see you tomorrow. Yes sir. Thank you.”

Charlie and Eddie found their way to the Wall Street offices of Hendricks and Jennings. Unlike the Naugehyde, Formica and stainless steel surroundings on the submarine, the reception area sported real wood paneling, real leather, plush carpet and more bright brass than they would find on any surface ship, let alone a submarine. The receptionist, who was dressed better than Charlie or Eddie would be in their finest clothes, did not give them the once over as if they were in the wrong place, instead she welcomed them with a warm demeanor and escorted them to a small conference room. “Mister Weinstein will be here in a minute. May I get you some coffee, tea or perhaps something cold?”

Charlie and Eddie declined. “Please make yourself comfortable, gentlemen.”

Eddie’s and the receptionist’s eyes met and Eddie got the impression she would disrobe for him on the spot, if he asked.

After following the delectable form of the receptionist out of the room Eddie looked at Charlie, “Whacoo doin’ here, white boy?”

Charlie said, “Hell, I don’t know. I shot a flare and this is what showed up. Jeezez, I probably can’t afford to have a conversation with the security guard in this building.”

“No, Mister Stone, that isn’t the case at all. Gerry Weinstein.” The attorney offered his hand. Charlie and Eddie turned to the voice, stood and introduced themselves.

“Do you have your documents with you?” Gerry Weinstein asked as he indicated they be seated.

Charlie had a manila envelope with him and handed the contents to the attorney. The attorney looked at each document for a minute. He looked at Charlie and said, “When I got the call on this I knew of the larger issue, so I did some research. Here is the situation, you did right by asking for advice before acting on this letter. This letter is not in your interest at all. What is in your interest is this letter.” The attorney produced a letter from a folder.

Charlie looked over the letter while Gary Weinstein addressed Eddie. “You guys came down from New London, my notes say USS Polk. Is that a submarine?”

Eddie replied it was.

“Man, you guys have my respect. I get nervous on the subway. How do you stand being cooped up like that?”

“They give us a shot.” Charlie said with a serious face.

The lawyer was skeptical and looked to Eddie. Eddie shook his head in mock disgust. “Don’t listen to him. How much credibility are you going to afford a guy who bought swamp land?”

The lawyer laughed a bit and then returned to the task at hand, “You’re qualified, because you’re an active duty serviceman, to be part of a separate class. The company has been convicted in Federal Court of fraud. The short story is that you will be entitled to a substantial award. Hendricks and Jennings will represent you at no cost to you, the fee is covered by provisions of the Federal judgment and a civil action. Beyond that we are happy for the opportunity to provide our services for the men and women who serve our country. After receiving your initial enquiry we have started a vigorous investigation into making sure the other servicemen involved are properly represented.”

Gerry Weinstein stood “I’m going to ask Carole to make some copies of these items. Whatever you do, do not misplace the originals. The matter will probably take six to eight months to be settled, at which time I’ll contact you to let you know what your options are.”

Some copies were made and Charlie signed a few forms and documents and the meeting was over. “It was a pleasure to meet you fellows. Seriously, I can’t imagine how it is you guys can do that. Is it true you’re gone for months on end.”

Charlie nodded. “Yeah, that is part of the reason I got behind on this.”

“Don’t worry about a thing. I will personally see you get the best possible outcome from this.”

After arriving at Kira’s Charlie was barely able to make a move without Kira being there. She did take an occasional break to serve a beer or help her mother with a chore. They would pick up Eddie’s date at 7. It was to be pretty much the same arrangement as the first night. Peter told Don what Charlie’s plans were and Don insisted they go to Emil’s again.

“I talked with Emil.” Don told Peter, “He was so happy to be able to have you as his guest and he insisted I send you back whenever you were in town again. He was very impressed with your lady friends. You created quite a stir and his business actually has picked up since that night. He says you’re the reason and he wants to pay you back. Hey, don’t argue with the man, just show up and say thank you. Run with it, Peter. This is an appreciative citizen doing something for the boys in blue. Take it.”

While Kira was changing into her evening clothes, Charlie and Eddie went into the parent’s bedroom and changed into suits and ties. “Do you know how long it has been since I wore a suit?” Eddie asked rhetorically. “I had to buy one this week. Now you promise it won’t be a wasted purchase.”

“Listen, buddy. Sunday night, if you think the weekend wasn’t worth the cost of the suit, I’ll buy it from you for what you paid.”

“I must say, even in her regular clothes Kira is a very attractive young lady. She sure has the hots for you.”

“She’s a knock out, isn’t she? Now look, I can’t promise that your date will be as pretty, but I’m sure she will be the kind of girl you wouldn’t be afraid of taking home to meet your mother.”

“What does that mean? This isn’t one of those, “she has a nice personality” dates, is it?”

“I don’t know. All I’m saying is don’t get your hopes up too high. I think Peter and I found the two prettiest girls in Brooklyn, that’s all. I just think you’re going to just have to prepare yourself for a girl not quite as classy.”

They finished dressing, packed their casuals and waited for Kira. Kira’s mother came into the living room and sat with them. “You know, Leonid has not stopped talking about you young men. He tells all of his friends how smart you are. I know he is rushing things, but he tells Kira everyday not to let you get away from her.”

“Missus Petrovitch, believe me; I can’t see how there will ever be anyone else in my life. You can comfort Mister Petrovitch with that. But, don’t tell Kira that just yet. I don’t want her to take me for granted!”

They had a nice laugh. “Eddie, who is your date tonight?”

“I don’t know, Missus Petrovitch. Charlie and Kira won’t tell me. All I know is that Charlie claims she will be a nice girl.”

“Well, I’m sure that Kira wouldn’t want to double date with someone who wasn’t a nice girl. Have you met Katerina? No? She is very nice, too. She and Peter look so good together, don’t you think, Charlie.”

“Yes, ma’am. No denying that. Of course, Katerina looks good all by herself.”

Kira made her entrance. She wore a green gown that accentuated her auburn hair. She had the slightest bit of makeup on and wore a necklace with emeralds and diamonds..

Eddie discovered himself with his mouth open. Charlie was accustomed to the situation by now.

“Do you think Emil will approve?” Kira asked with an air of innocence as she made a twirl.

“I think Emil might have a heart attack,” Charlie replied.

“Okay we’re off.” Kira carried a duffel with her, in addition to the clutch purse that matched the dress.

In the car Eddie got directions from Kira and drove to a commercial part of the neighborhood. They parked on the street and the three of them walked to a doorway that opened into a stairway leading to the second floor. Kira pounded on the door and announced loudly in Russian “Surrender now. Its no use! Its the KGB. We know who you really are.”

Eddie looked at Charlie. Charlie just said, “Later. Details.” Eddie shrugged.

Kira opened the door and walked right in. Again in Russian, “We’re here. Are you ready yet?”

There was a bustling sound from behind a closed door. The door cracked. “Five minutes. I’m sorry. Make some tea or have a drink.”

Eddie and Charlie started looking around the room. An artist. Stacks of books on art. Paintings, drawings, sketches: mostly female figure studies. Kira offered drinks or tea. They both declined. She went into the kitchen and returned with a small tumbler filled with chilled water. Soft drinks? Water? Again they shook her off. They drifted around the small loft and took in Barcina’s life laid before them on bookshelves, clumps of fabric, two dress maker’s forms and the only clear surface in the room, a large drawing table.

After a few minutes they heard the door open. Eddies mouth was agape once again. Kira made the introductions. “Eddie, Barcinea. Barcinea, Eddie Rawlins.”

She crossed the room to Eddie and offered her hand. Kira continued, “Charlie, Barcinea. Barcinea, Charlie Stone.”

Barcinea turned to Charlie. Her voice matched her smoky eyes. “So nice to meet you. Kira talks constantly of you.”

Barcinea was another Katerina, except with black hair, and not as severely short as Katerina’s. Her eyes danced even in the subdued lighting of the apartment. She was tall and slender, nearly five feet eleven inches and just a bit more filled out than Katerina. Her skin was like alabaster. She wore a black dress that almost had no neckline, it was so low. The material flowed over her body as if it was liquid. Her jewelry was a sparkling pendant hanging halfway between her collar bone and the top of the dress, some sparkling earrings and a band of sparklies on her wrist.

Charlie broke the momentary silence. “I guess since you girls are so nicely dressed we will have to find someplace other than Pizza Palace.”

Barcinea looked shocked, but Kira knew the ruse. She punched Charlie in the arm, “I told you before. New rule: no pizza dates anymore.”

Charlie face brightened as if he had been instantly reprogrammed, “Okay. How about Emil’s?”

“That is closer to what we deserve,” Kira gave a wink to Barcinea.

They left the apartment. Barcinea had a small duffel in addition to her clutch. The girls weren’t going home Saturday morning in their evening gowns this time.

**********************************************************

The maîtres-d looked up to Charlie. “Stone, four, seven-thirty.”

“Oh, Mr. Stone, I’m so sorry I did not recognize you. And Mr. Bransford, he is not dining with us tonight? One moment please.”

Emil welcomed them as if they were long lost sons and daughters and escorted them to their table, this time in the middle of the room, where all of the other guests could see them. Charlie introduced Eddie and Barcinea.

Eddie was as smooth as cognac. He kept Barcinea talking about herself all evening, with a few considered responses about art and fashion. By the time desert came around Barcinea had her eyes glued on Eddie’s and she was just slightly aware that Kira was pestering her for a desert order.

At the end of the meal the ladies excused themselves and Emil came over. Charlie said, “Emil we want to thank you again for your generous hospitality. But, you know that you don’t have to do this.”

Emil put up his hand . “I’ll have none of that. First, it is my genuine privilege to do something for the men who defend our country, and a couple of dinners, it is nothing compared to the sacrifice you make. And tonight, I have to tell you the truth. I should be paying you to be here. These other social leeches think you’re some kind of unknown young celebrities. Who else could show up with such exquisitely dressed beautiful young ladies? These people are showing up to be seen with you!”

Charlie was both flabbergasted and amused. A couple of sewer-pipe sailors and a couple of refugee girls are turning the town on its ear. What a hoot.

“Just one more thing. I don’t want to embarrass the young ladies. Who does their gowns? I’ve been asked by two of the ladies who were here the last time Peter and Katerina dropped in.”

“Barcinea. b-a-r-c-i-n-e-a. The girls may have a card. Would you like it? I’ll ask.”

“May I call Jerry at the Blue Note for you? Do you know he came by here the Monday after you boys were first here and thanked me for sending you by. He said you were the nicest people he had met in that situation ever and that one of the girls actually knew something about music and got the whole crowd going. I know he will be happy to see you again.

“Tell me, Mister Stone. How do you come up with these women? They are so beautiful and always turned out perfectly. Tell me and I’ll divorce my wife of forty years.”

Charlie laughed. “I honestly can’t tell you. Sometimes I still think it is all a dream.”

The girls returned, offered their gratitude for the splendid meal and fine service. Charlie asked about a card and Kira produced one from her clutch.

“Blue Note Okay girls?” They agreed and walked the three blocks arm in arm.

The crowd was just leaving following the end of the first set. The line was even longer than it had been in April. They were just getting to the door when Jerry came out. He shook hands with the men and gave Kira a peck on the cheek. “I’m so happy you could come back again. You had such a good time before and really got the band and the crowd whipped up. The band wants to hire you as a secret weapon.”

They laughed. Barcinea had a confused look on her face. Kira had not told her of the earlier experiences. All she said was she needed a date for a nice friend of Charlie’s, and to dress nice because they would be going to Manhattan. Bring along a change of clothes in case you feel like spending the night. No obligations, if you don’t like him you can go home, no problem.

When the music started it was a different type of performance, the group was more introspective and technical. Kira still loved it, but the place would not end up rocking that night. What did happen was a single lady came up to them after the second set was over and they were getting ready to leave. She identified herself as entertainment writer for the Daily News. She had noticed the preferential treatment that was normally reserved for only the biggest of big names and she wondered if she could find out who they are and get an interview.

Kira assumed her finest feline posture and declined, “I’m sorry, but we really aren’t looking for any publicity. We are trying to stay out of the public eye right at the moment. But, leave me your card and when the situation changes we may get in touch with you.”

Once outside, Kira broke into hysterical laughter. As she retrieved a tissue to dab at her eyes she said, “This is too much. Can you believe that reporter coming over to our table? Charlie, this is so much fun.”

They gave Kira a few seconds to compose herself before Charlie once again asked, “Coffee? Home? Coffee at the apartment?”

Kira looked at Barcinea. “Coffee at the apartment, even if it’s instant,” Barcinea replied.

Barcinea was not the clingy type. It wasn’t obvious she was intensely interested in Eddie. On the other hand, anybody could tell that Kira had her man and would never let go.

Despite the lack of outward indication, Barcinea was quickly becoming convinced this could be the man for her. Here was this big strong man who listened and spoke softly and was genuinely interested in what her goals and dreams were all about. This one better not get away.

Chapter 9

Late Saturday morning found the four sitting around the kitchen table enjoying a very leisurely breakfast cooked by Kira. Plans for the day were made. Barcinea wanted to find out just how much art this hunk could stand, and suggested an afternoon at the museums and art galleries, followed by dinner at the apartment and a quiet evening, just the four of them. Nobody objected. Kira asked if Barcinea and Eddie wanted to go to her parents for Sunday afternoon dinner, which was accepted.

The girls dressed and went out to buy groceries for the evening meal. After they left Eddie finally had a chance to clear up a few things that were on his mind. “Jeezez, there are a couple of things you failed to tell me.”

“Like what?” Asked Charlie smugly.

“Like that they are Russians. Ain’t that a problem, Navy wise? But Holy shit, you didn’t tell me this gal was going to be such a knock out. I was expecting some hometown girl.”

“I didn’t know who she was going to set you up with. Barcinea designed all of the clothes they were wearing and that gown Kira almost is wearing in the picture you first saw. Hey, you should see Katerina! You can just about go blind thinking of her!”

“And as far as being Russian goes, let me just say that as long as I don’t marry her while I’m in the Navy, they won’t know or won’t care. Someday I might tell you the whole story, but for now let’s just leave it at that.”

“Yeah, well what’s the big secret?”

“Just forget it. It’s one of those things that a drunk buddy blurts out at a shipmate’s wedding and gets the groom in trouble, you know what I mean?”

“Worse than sleeping with Submarine Nancy?”

“Much worse. If I marry Kira, ask me in twenty years. If we break up, I’ll tell you in five.”

“Okay, okay. Listen. This Barcinea is really hot. I couldn’t believe it. She was pleasant enough during the evening, but after we got into the apartment, kaboom! I’m talking megaton range with this lady. Those eyes of hers! God, she does more with those eyes than most women can do with their entire body. Partner, I’m deep in lust. And the funny thing is, I feel like I’ve known her forever. I don’t know how you swung this deal, but if she is still here tomorrow morning I’ve a feeling there is no favor you can ask that won’t be instantly taken care of.”

“Hmmmm. Might need the old Mustang washed and waxed when we get back to Norfolk.”

“Shit, don’t waste it on that. Hold out for a new paint job!” They both laughed.

Eddie rocked back on his chair and stretched. “This is fine stuff, Charlie. However you pulled this off, this is as fine as it gets. You may become a legend. Don’t know that I’ve ever met a woman so captivating. Glad I had SEAL training, cause it is going to take everything I’ve got to keep up with this lady. You know, maybe I’m just shitting myself, cause she did bring the clothes with her, but I don’t think she would have bedded down with me just for a fancy dinner, you know what I mean?

“What do you think? Do you think she is used to screwing whoever shows up with a shave and a meal chit? I don’t think so. I think she left the house last night saying, ‘Well, Kira said bring along clothes just in case, so I guess I might as well in case things work out but I’ll go home if this guy is a creep.’ I think I earned it. God, I hope that’s the case. She is really a fox, buddy. And class, too. Notice that she had impeccable manners at dinner last night? She could be the instructor at knife and fork class at the Academy! I don’t know that I’ve ever dated a girl who knew what elegant dining was all about and yet it seemed so natural to her.

“Hey, how about you? You do Okay in a fine dinning establishment, too. ”

Charlie just smiled. “It really is great, ain’t it? And it doesn’t stop! That’s the great thing for me. It was great right from the start and it just won’t quit. As far as table manners go, fuck you!”

Eddie laughed. When he regained composure he asked, “You thinking of marriage?”

“I’ve only known her two months, and most of that time I’ve been gone. But, God, she is nice. She’s smart, too. I really like her personality. She is so sure of herself. Yeah, after I get back to Starfish I’ll come up for a couple of weeks, shop for a rock and pop the question. Maybe we can drive back to Iowa so she can meet the folks. I’m sure Mom and Dad will like her. Well, I know dad will like her; he is the original T and A man. Don’t make a difference if a gal is smart enough to speak if she has a nice body. What a fucking lecher my old man is, you know. Mom beats on him all the time when they go out. But mom will really take a shine to her, I know it. Kira has all the right moves that moms love.

“Jeez, I can’t believe I’m talking like this. I’m just babbling.”

“Buddy, you just got it bad, that’s all. But look at it this way. You got it bad for the prettiest girl in town and she is hot for you! Go, Charlie!”

The following Wednesday [cap11] morning Charlie, Peter and Eddie drove to New York. Charlie and Eddie were off until 0800 Friday. Peter was off until the following Monday morning. Eddie and Barcinea opted to be alone. Eddie would be going away and Barcinea wanted them to concentrate on each other. Peter and Charlie and the girls decided to go to Ocean Beach, New Jersey and spend the time there. Peter and Charlie drove separately so Charlie could leave early. Eddie said he would take the late train on Thursday night.

Katerina would only go for moonlight swims. She kept nearly every inch of skin covered during the day and wore large hats to keep the sun off her face which was coated with sun block. Kira and Charlie romped on the beach most of the morning on Thursday. They left late afternoon on Thursday and got back to Brooklyn near 10 PM. Charlie agreed to sleep on the sofa and leave at 4 AM rather than risk getting sleepy on the rest of the trip.

Charlie went out at 4 AM and found all of the tires slashed. He called the rental car company and the police. The Police were sympathetic to his plight and drove him over to a taxi company where he found an off duty cabby who would take him to La Guardia so he could get another car.

Charlie made it back before muster, but went back into the engine room in civilian clothes reeking of suntan lotion tinged with sex. He endured the good natured jabs. Just about everyone had seen at least one picture of Kira, so they appreciated his efforts to see her and risk being late. Jacobs offered, “Shit I wouldn’t leave that for anything. Let ‘em come and find me. I’m off today, and if I knew her address, I would be tempted to go see her myself.”

Another voice chimed in, “She lives in New York. Shouldn’t be too hard to find. Just ask anybody on the street corner, they will tell you how to get to her house. That’s how it is where I live.”

The assembled sailors broke out in laughter because the speaker, a unqualified third class named Parker who had just arrived a few weeks before departure, sounded so serious with his suggestion.

“Tell me Parker,” said Jacobs, “Just where do you live?”

“I’m from Wyoming. Douglas, Wyoming”

“And how many people live there, Parker?

“About 700”

“And just how many people do you think live in New York?”

“Well I know it is pretty big place, but that doesn’t mean a guy couldn’t stop and ask someone.”

Jacobs shook his head. “Parker, you got duty today? No? You got fifty bucks in your pocket? Yes? Come on along son. Lets go find that girl. We got just enough time to get the last morning train. See the rest of you suckers tomorrow morning. We’re going to the Big Apple.”

Polk moored in Norfolk on July 8. The engine room was secured and the shutdown watch stationed. Charlie had his sea bag packed and was ready to hit the road. He made a quick stop with the Squadron Commander before he was on his way for three solid weeks with Kira.

The Commodore told him to check in Mondays and Fridays, don’t leave the country, plan on being off until 15 August. Thank you for your support of Polk.

Charlie had asked Don about buying a diamond for Kira and could he recommend a reputable dealer. There was a letter waiting for him. It gave the name of a jeweler and an address plus a number. The jeweler was a manufacturer and the number was a tax exemption number.

Charlie and Eddie made arrangements to keep in touch by mail. With their unrelated activities it would be by pure chance if they happened to be in New York together. Eddie was hooked as deeply as Charlie and Peter were and Barcinea made no effort to hide how she felt about Eddie.

Chapter 10

Early Monday morning.

Charlie went to the diamond district and found the jeweler on the fourth floor of a building filled with small manufacturing shops. He never imagined such a place could exist. He buzzed the security buzzer. A woman, in her early sixties Charlie guessed, looked up from a desk and gave Charlie the once over. She buzzed him in. “I’m here to see Moe Burnstein.”

Once again he got the once over. “Moe,” she called out over the hissing gas torches and whirring buffing wheels.

Moe was an equally old person. Gold dust sparkled on his leather apron. “Yes, what is it, young man?”

“My name is Charlie Stone. Don Rawlins recommended that I see you.”

“Oh, Yes! Mr. Rawlins is a good man. Say, how many of you young men am I going to be servicing? Not that there is a limit on what I would do for Mr. Rawlins. You’re the second young man to come around.”

Charlie didn’t know this. But he was glad for the information. “Was the other young man Peter Bransford, by any chance?”

“Yes, yes it was. Do you know him?”

“Very well. And I’m glad to find out he has bought a ring. His fiancée and mine are very close friends. And, to answer your first question, there might be one more of us. I don’t know what Eddie will do about a ring, He isn’t in this area that much.”

“He’s a sailor-boy, too?”

“Yes, he is.” Charlie could feel the Emil treatment coming on.

“You tell him if he doesn’t come here, his lady will be forever angry at him. She is friends with other two? Yes? Well don’t let him make a big mistake. So tell me what do you have in mind?”

Charlie quickly admitted he knew nothing about diamonds, how much they cost or what to expect. All he knew was that Don said to put his trust in Moe, and everything would be okay in the end.

“You boys! You’re so honest. I love you. You don’t come in here and try to BS that you know something about diamonds like Moe doesn’t. Here, come with me into this other room where the light is best. Edith, bring some ring stones, please.”

Moe and Charlie went into a small room with a table and three chairs and a large, bare window. The two men sat across from each other as Moe started a spiel about color and clarity. Edith appeared with what appeared to be a bunch of paper. Moe took one and unfolded it, exposing a dozen or so loose diamonds. His face instantly turned red and he yelled at the top of his voice to Edith. He let loose with a stream of Yiddish that Charlie couldn’t understand. Edith appeared., argued back with a short burst, gathered up the papers and left. All the while Moe was raving.

Edith reappeared and this time waited while Moe opened a package. He made another comment to her in Yiddish and she left, mumbling in a disagreeable tone.

“I am sorry for you to have to see such stones. Please don’t think that I would ever sell such stones to you boys. Those are for riff raff and gangsters. Now look at these stones. These are all whites and flawless. Pretty, yes?” He set aside the opened folder and opened another. “These are one step down. Still very desirable. Now, let me ask you, how much do you want to spend?”

“I really don’t know what to expect. I would like to get her a nice size stone, maybe a half or three quarters carat, do you think I can afford that? What did Peter get? Maybe I shouldn’t be too far away from what he got.”

“That is a dangerous game to play, and I wouldn’t do that. Don’t worry about what he did. Yes the girls will compare, but I will assure you that you won’t be embarrassed. Okay? Trust Moe.”

“Well, that’s what Don said, ‘trust Moe,’ and I’m here.” Charlie took a deep breath. “How about $1500. Can I get something decent for that?”

Moe smiled, “Yes Mr. Stone, I think you will do well for that price.” Moe quickly picked out two stones from one folder and one from another folder. “These stones are 75 points, round cut and flawless. Look these over take your choice. Or I can show you some others, perhaps oval or emerald cut?”

Moe handed Charlie a loupe. Charlie looked at a stone for a few seconds and set it down. “What am I looking for?”

Moe smiled and reached into a drawer and took out a stone about two and a half carats. Charlie whistled. “Now, look at this one.”

Charlie looked for a minute. “I see all kinds of things in there, specks of black and some fuzzy something, some kind of line. This stone seems to be yellow.”

“You see. There isn’t much magic to this, you just have to know what to look for. Now look at yours again.”

Charlie looked. He turned it every which way. “I don’t see anything.” He set it down and picked up another. Again he saw nothing. The same thing on the third. “I like them all.” He said as he set them next to each other.

Moe nodded. Charlie finally picked one he thought to be the largest of the group. Moe gave a sly smile, “You young men learn quickly. 80 points. There are dealers on the street that would not make that choice so fast. What about a setting. Traditional Tiffany mount? What size ring?”

“That’s another thing I don’t know about Moe. I’m sorry to be so vague, but I’ve never done this before. In fact I didn’t think I would ever be doing this. She is tall, but has slender fingers. If I pick a ring and it doesn’t fit can you do something?”

Moe smiled. “Young man, we will make this up in Tiffany in size 8. She can bring it back anytime and have it sized or remounted. Does that sound fair?”

“Yes, sir. That is more than fair.”

He took the stone and went to the door and called out to ‘Steve’. Steve appeared and Moe gave him instructions. “It will be a few minutes. Do you want a wedding band with this? No? Perhaps later. Or, you tell your lady to come back and pick out one for her and one for you, let me take your ring size.”

Charlie waited a few minutes and Steve appeared with the ring. Moe handed it to Charlie. “Check the stone. Memorize a picture of this stone. Only clean the stone and the ring with jewelry cleaner.”

Charlie examined the ring and handed it back to Moe. Moe reached in a drawer and brought out a blue velvet box and placed the ring in it. Charlie was really getting excited. Moe wrote out a receipt. “One thousand dollars for today.” Moe said.

Charlie started to say something but Moe held his hand up. “Trust Moe.”

“Trust Moe,” Charlie repeated as he dug out a wad of bills from his pocket. He counted out ten $100 bills.

“And will you ask her tonight? Yes? I’m to pass on to you that Emil will be terribly disappointed if you do not do it at his cafe. May I call him and give him a time? 7:30? Certainly. You know, I don’t know who you boys are other than you’re sailor relatives of Don’s. But you certainly enjoy a high reputation in certain quarters. I have the feeling you’re not so ordinary. I wish you and your future bride all the happiness to come. And I hope I have the honor to serve your third friend.”

Charlie started to sputter his thanks. He put the box in his pocket where it made an uncomfortable bulge. This was way too much. Walt Disney could not have come up with a fantasy like this. Charlie managed a proper thank you and left the shop in a half daze. Out on the street he regained his senses. He walked to the subway station and took the subway to the Village.

In the apartment he sat down and took out the ring and looked at it over and over. This was the big move, bigger than raising his hand for the Navy. As rolled the ring to study each facet he alternately felt excitement and apprehension. He was going to ask Kira to marry him. A life time commitment. He was ready.

The apprehension faded as he called Kira’s house. Her mother answered and chatted a minute. She was very happy to hear Charlie’s voice. Then Kira came to the phone. She was bubbling with anticipation. No, there wasn’t a problem, he just had some business to take care of. What business? Sailor business. No, he couldn’t say anything else at the moment he would tell her sometime in the future. Now, how did she feel about Emil’s for dinner? They could discuss plans for the next month over dinner. That’s right, month! She suggested he come over immediately. They could spend the afternoon together and she could change her clothes at the apartment. Charlie agreed and said he would be over in an hour.

That evening Emil was bubbling. The cafe was not filled, but there were a few patrons scattered around. “Maybe a secluded corner tonight, if it won’t be a problem,” Charlie quietly asked Emil.

Emil gave him a knowing nod. Kira had a different air about her tonight. More toward the elegant side, perhaps a bit less flashy. Charlie couldn’t put his finger on it. Maybe it was the dress, or a combination of dress and makeup. Whatever, she was captivating in a new way.

Under the dress, however, was the same Kira Charlie really loved the most and it all came out when she opened the ring box and Charlie asked if she would marry him.

She screamed with joy. He put the ring on her finger and she screamed again. The other patrons turned to stare. Charlie didn’t care. Kira stood up and leaned over the table and gave Charlie a big lip lock. She said “Yes” very softly and tenderly, sat down and squealed with joy again. She held up her hand to show the other patrons, and they applauded.

They applauded! Emil was leading the cheer. The waiters appeared out of nowhere with Champagne glasses and bottles. They quickly served everyone. Emil signaled for silence and everyone except Kira, who was still squealing to herself, stopped chatting. Emil lifted his glass, “Ladies and gentlemen. I couldn’t be happier if these were my own son or daughter. I’m honored Charlie and Kira chose my humble establishment to announce their engagement. Here is to a happy life together, Charlie and Kira.” The crowd repeated, “Charlie and Kira” as if they had been coached. Glasses clinked and everyone drank up.

Charlie and Kira had a second champagne. Kira excused herself.

Emil came over. Charlie just shook his head. “You know Emil, you see those game shows where some ordinary tractor mechanic wins the big prize. I mean, that is what my life is like when I’m with Kira. Thank you so much for all of your hospitality. We really don’t deserve this. It is all way too much. I don’t know how I can ever repay you.”

“Silly Charlie. You just don’t understand, do you? Jerry at Blue Note has bands in to get crowds, otherwise it is just another bar. You young people have become an attraction here. All you have to do is show up. Look at Kira. She is so classy. The other women are beside themselves because they can’t figure out what it is about her that is so attractive, aside from the fact that she is beautiful. You know what I mean? Well neither do I.

“Peter and Katerina were in two weeks ago on a Wednesday. He proposed that night, too. It was wonderful. Do you know that a woman told me her daughter is hoping her boyfriend will bring her here to propose, also. This may become a whole new market. I could kiss you all.”

Kira appeared and gave Emil a big hug and a peck on the cheek. He was in heaven. Kira took Charlie’s arm and they left. No Blue Note tonight, it was straight back to the apartment.

The next evening Kira’s mother fixed dinner for them. She was as excited as Kira was about the news. Leonid was equally excited. For the first time he broached the subject of Charlie’s future. Charlie explained that he had education benefits coming, he was thinking of studying finance and then returning to the mid-west to go into banking. He had an Uncle who owned a string of small town banks that catered to farmers. Charlie might pursue that angle. He would have to see where events took him. For the moment he had a year left in the Navy. Both parents expressed how happy they were for the two of them and how fortunate they felt to be getting a son-in-law like Charlie.

Charlie left the house about midnight. The plan was to drive to Iowa for a week’s visit there to give Kira a chance to meet Charlie’s folks and see what small town life would be like. After the visit in Iowa they would go to Colorado for a week; Peter had inherited “a shack” in the mountains and Charlie was welcome to use it. As he walked out the door a car drove by with its lights out. It stopped next to Charlie’s car. He heard glass breaking and a second later the darkened car sped away.

Kira was also standing at the door and she burst into tears. She sobbed something in Russian he couldn’t understand. A few minutes later her father appeared in his pajamas and robe. He asked what happened and Kira erupted in a flood of Russian between sobs.

Leonid said, “It’s that gangster, Mikel. He thinks Kira is his property and is trying to scare you off. We never mentioned it before. I’m sorry. We should have warned you. It wasn’t right for you to be in danger and not know it, but we were afraid you would be scared off and not want to risk seeing Kira again”

Charlie shook his head in silence for a few seconds. “I don’t know what I can do. We can figure out something. I’ll be all right, but what about you folks? Will he do anything to you?”

“I don’t know. These hoodlums have no code, no honor. They just do what they want. The police are useless. They send some back to Russia occasionally, but things like this go unchecked. Now that Kira has accepted your proposal, things might get worse. Please be careful. At least, don’t bring your own car around here anymore.”

Charlie nodded. He took a whisk broom and a pan to clean up the glass in the car. A note on the seat said, “Give Kira up. She belongs to me. Mikel” Charlie slipped the note in his pants pocket and continued to clean up the glass.

After getting the glass cleaned up as best he could he returned to the house. Kira was still sobbing. He took her in his arms and let her cry a few moments before telling her it would be all right. They would head to Iowa tomorrow and sort things out while they traveled. She finally stopped sobbing and nodded that she would be all right. Charlie knew it was a lie, but there was nothing he could do at the moment. He would see her at 11 the next morning and they would leave as soon as she could get her things in his car. She said yes and kissed him goodnight and he left.

Chapter 11

The trip to Iowa was uneventful. Kira stopped sobbing half way across Pennsylvania. They spent the night in western Pennsylvania. The next day Kira napped most of the way across Ohio and Indiana. There was no impressing her with the vast farmlands of Ohio and Indiana: she had seen the Ukraine, she recognized corn and wheat and soybeans.

They spent a second night in Davenport, IA. Charlie was pretty sure that his mother, like Kira’s, would not have an unmarried couple sleeping together under her roof, so this would be their last chance for sex for a week. They slept late into the following morning before driving the final 250 miles of the trip.

Charlie pulled into the farm yard and honked his horn. His mother and father came out of house, his mother wearing an apron over her jeans and blouse and his father was in bib overalls.

Charlie barely made it out of the car before his mother gave him a big hug and his father was pumping his hand. Kira was able to get out of the car before the group moved to her side. “This must be Kira!” Exclaimed Charlie’s mom as if the fact wasn’t obvious. She gave Kira a hug. “Oh, Charlie, she is such a pretty girl. Oh, Kira we are so happy for the two of you. Welcome to our family. Charlie has written and told us all about you, but we thought he was exaggerating”.

“Mom, dad, this is Kira Petrovitch. Kira, this is my mom and dad, Carole and Tom.”

Tom took Kira’s hand in his huge farmer’s paw and gave it an unanticipated gentle squeeze and shake. “It’s so nice to meet you Kira. We’re mighty proud of our boy, you know. We hope you get a chance to meet all of the family, I know they’ll like you.”

Kira was dressed in jeans and a blouse and was not wearing any makeup except a light lipstick. Even then she presented an aura of class and beauty.

Carole hustled her toward the house. The traditional mid-west mother’s interrogation and recital of the family history began. It would be non-stop yakking for several days. Charlie just about split his face with his smile as the two disappeared through the porch door.

Charlie went to open the trunk to get the luggage. His dad stood next to him as he retrieved the bags, taking three under his arms. “Son, I don’t mind saying you have one fine looking filly there.”

“Yeah, dad, she’s just in jeans, too. You should see her when she is all dolled up. I have a couple of pictures I can show you later on. You can’t believe how lucky I am.”

“How in the world did you ever rope in a heifer like that? As I recall you ended up taking your cousin Margaret to the senior prom.”

“Dad, that was eight years ago. This is a small town in a small county. I didn’t know a lot about girls then and the prospects were thin, so give me a break, will you? How I met this girl is a long story and I’ll tell you during the week. In the mean-time, try not to drool.”

Tom looked startled for a second, “Ought not to be talking to your parent that way.” he said only half seriously.

“Well, you ought not stare at the young ladies that way yourself. This girl’s going to have your grandchildren, so don’t go lusting after her or God will do something awful to your manhood. It’s in the Bible.”

Tom laughed. “That’s good. I’ll have to remember that one. I’ll try to keep my eyes in my head, son. She is a looker, that’s for sure.”

Inside the house Carole stopped her conversation long enough to direct Kira’s things to Charlie’s sister’s room and Charlie’s to his room. After setting the bags down he sat on his old bed and took out a phone book. He punched in the Ford garage number.

“Hilde? Charlie Stone. Yes, Hi! No, just in town for a week. Yes, I’ll be in to see you. Kenny back there in the service department? Great. Nice talking with you, too. I’ll see you in a day or so.” There was a pause. “Kenny? Charlie Stone. Need a driver’s side window for the Mustang. Yep. Oh, vandals in the big city. You know how it is. Well, I didn’t think you would have one. I just now got into town and will be here a week. Well, just so I can pull out of town Friday a week. Yep. Good enough. You did? Who told you that? Yes, it’s true. No! I ain’t going to parade her all over town for you guys. She will be at church on Sunday though.. Kenny, I don’t care if you see her or not; it’s no skin off my teeth. Be in church on Sunday. That will be your best shot. We might, and I repeat might, be at the Legion Saturday night. ’Course, that won’t do you any good now will it? No, mom lassoed her the second she got out of the car and it has been non stop ever since. Me and dad can probably cut eighty acres of hay before they come up for air. All right, Kenny. I’ll wait for your call. Bye. Thanks.”

“Car trouble son?”

“Yeah. Is there some chore that needs the both of us. There’s some things that mom doesn’t need to concern herself with. I’ll put on some overalls.”

“Let’s go work on that fence line on the west side. It can always use some attention.”

After Charlie changed they passed through the kitchen. Kira was shelling peas fresh picked from the garden. Carole was mixing something. They barely noticed Charlie and Tom walk through.

Charlie and Tom gathered up the fencing materials and headed out. Charlie related most everything to his dad. He didn’t want his mother to worry about the vandalism or the threat. Tom was concerned about his decision to go to school and into banking. What would happen with the farm?

“Jimmy can have it, as far as I’m concerned. I don’t know how you want to handle things. You haven’t said anything about it. If he wants me to, I’ll help him buy it. I won’t mind owning half as a silent partner, but I really don’t want to be on the farm again, dad. You folks work things out with Jimmy and Nancy, if she is in the mix. I don’t look for any birthrights or anything else from your labors, dad. You and mom do what you think is best for you and don’t worry one second about me. I’ll do fine on my own, whatever it is I end up doing.”

After an hour of repairing fence they headed back to the house. As they opened the porch door their conversation revolved around whether or not Charlie thought he could repair several hydraulic cylinders on various pieces of machinery.

After dinner they all went to the yard to have their desert: fresh strawberries and fresh-baked shortcake. Charlie and Kira sat on the swinging chair, suspended from a limb of an old oak. Even though the evening was still quite warm, Kira snuggled close to Charlie. Finally Carole asked about how long they would stay, were they planning on going to church Sunday. Yes? That’s good.

Charlie knew his mother was dying to show off her prospective daughter-in law. Kira would have the Ladies Aid buzzing for months.

The topic turned to their plans for the future and Charlie reiterated his thoughts about college and going into banking. Kira had her right arm looped through Charlie’s left arm and nodded her agreement at various points.

Saturday morning Carole snatched Kira out of the kitchen before Charlie and Tom had a second cup of coffee and the two headed for Ames. They said something about shopping for a dress for Kira. After they left the house Charlie commented that he was amazed that a girl from New York City would need to shop for a dress in Ames, Iowa. Tom offered that he still had a lot to learn about women and shopping. Charlie just nodded. Kira had obviously met mom’s approval.

Sunday [cap12] morning Kira came out of her room in a summer weight cotton dress that covered her from her neck to halfway down her calves. She had on coordinated flats. She was wearing a the slightest amount of makeup. Carole made sure Kira would be in Small Town Iowa Sunday Best, but no more. But there was something she had done with her makeup or her hair that made her look classy even with the relatively simple dress. The dress could have been in the closet of any woman in town, but Kira added something they couldn’t.

Kira confessed in the car on the way to town she had never before been to a church service. She hoped that there wasn’t too much ritual that she would be out of synch with. Carole assured her it wasn’t too complicated. “Stand up or sit down. A plate will be passed, Charlie is assumed to take care of your contribution, so don’t worry. There will be a fellowship gathering afterwards. Charlie will be mobbed by all of the aunts and old widows who think he walks on water. They will all love you, too. Try to ignore the younger women who pass by without saying anything, trying to get a good look at your ring. It will be the point of interest. Next week they will come to the realization there was a woman attached to the ring, but they forgot to take notice of her.”

Kira laughed at this.

As the congregation filed out of the sanctuary Eddie’s sister, Janet, came up and Peter introduced Kira to her. Janet claimed she was heartbroken when she heard the news of the engagement, but Charlie would have none of it, claiming she blew her chances when she wouldn’t go to the Prom with him two years in a row. Janet laughed and asked about Barcinea. Kira gave her a quick run down and assured Janet that Barcinea would be an excellent sister-in-law. Kira asked if Eddie had sent any pictures and Janet said no. Kira was prepared and handed her a pack of 4 X 5 prints. Janet looked at two and said, “My word, all Eddie said was she was a nice quiet type of career girl. He didn’t say she was glamorous. Oh, my word!”

Janet looked at Kira and asked if she could keep the photos and Kira said that they were intended for Janet and her folks. Janet said with a slight bit of mischief in her voice, “Thank you. I’ll wait a few weeks for the talk about you to die down before just casually showing these to the girls.”

Kira blushed but didn’t respond.

In the fellowship hall it all went as predicted. Charlie’s arms were just about sore from the men coming up to him and giving him that knowing punch to the arm as a sign of congratulations and envy. They were nearly like 13 year-olds in their behavior, as if Charlie had stolen a kiss and they hadn’t. Carole kept Kira moving from one elderly lady and gentleman to the next, giving introductions and placing the people in family or town picture. The pre and early-teen girls were beside themselves, convinced that Kira was a New York actress or model.

Charlie mused about that as he drove the family home. These people were so far removed from what his life was now. Yet, he wanted to be back here with these folks above all else. Back here, with Kira as his bride.

The following Friday Charlie [cap13] and Kira left Iowa to go to Colorado. Peter said he had a shack there they could use anytime, just call three days ahead to make sure it wasn’t being used and for the caretaker to get the cobwebs cleaned out. Get the key from the caretaker.

They drove as far as Denver and decided to spend the night so they could get all of the scenery during the day. The following morning they drove to Breckenridge, both of them wanting to stop at every turn where the scenery changed.

At Breckenridge they were surprised when Peter met them at the door to what turned out to be a huge Swiss style chalet that held six apartments. One was Peter’s exclusively. The other five were available on a first come basis to Peter’s family members. Holiday times it was full and most of ski season it was also filled.

“This is some shack!” exclaimed Charlie. “I was just stopping here for directions. We didn’t expect to find you here. Is Katerina along?”

“Do Russians swear? She is in town buying some groceries. We plan on grilling tonight if that is ok with you.”

“I don’t think we had any plans one way or the other. Sure is beautiful around here.”

“Can you ride a horse?”

“I was riding when you were shittin’ yellow.”

“How does that work? I’m older than you.”

“I’m the one born in a barn, remember?.”

“Jeez! I can see this is going nowhere. Tomorrow we can ride up to some trout streams I know of. The four wheelers can’t get in there; you have to hike or horse. Nice spots.” Turning to Kira Peter asked, “Kira, do you want to go fishing tomorrow? No? Okay, I guess you and Katerina will just have to stay here and gab or go shopping.”

“I’m sure we will find something to do. Peter, this is such lovely country and your shack is pretty, too,” said Kira.

Charlie and Kira took their bags into the house. They had the ground floor apartment across from Peter’s. They stayed in the room while Kira washed her face and Charlie stretched out on the couch.

A knock on the door jolted Charlie out of what had turned into a nap. Kira went to the door and there was Katerina, “Guess what?” Kira squealed, holding up her left hand.

Katerina squealed back. “Congratulations. I’m so happy! Can I see your ring? Oh, it is just as pretty as mine! Did Charlie get it from that nice Mister Burnstein? Isn’t he nice?

“I haven’t been over to see him yet. Charlie said I could get the ring sized or the setting changed if I wanted to and also to pick out a wedding set.”

“This is one American custom that I really like!” Katerina said. They both giggled like little girls.

The next morning [cap14] Peter and Charlie left at dawn. They took fishing gear, along with food for two days, a tent and bedrolls, just in case the weather turned bad and they got stuck. Katerina assured Kira that Peter knew the mountains very well and was just being prudent. Kira wasn’t so sure, but hid her anxiety.

On the trail Charlie and Peter got caught up on the previous two months activities. They both agreed that Emil had completely lost his mind and that Peter’s cousin was the best connected person in New York.

“Moe treated me like I was his own kid. God, what a deal I got on the diamond, how about you?” Peter asked.

“Couldn’t have been nicer. I can’t see how he made any money off my deal. I was prepared to spend more, but he told me that what I was getting was the right thing to do.”

“Me, too. What did you end up with?”

“80 points. White. Kira goes back for a wedding band or adjustments if she wants. Out the door for a thousand bucks.”

“That’s what I ended up with. Katerina’s stone is white. 75 points. Did you go to Emil’s while you were there?”

“Oh, yeah! He seems to think that proposal dinners are going to be a big thing in his future. Man, I don’t know about New York. Are people that plastic?”

“Emil seems to think there are some. Enough, that is, to increase his mid week business. He was actually concerned whether or not you and Eddie would pop the question at his place. I talked to Eddie last week. He is seeing Barcinea this weekend, but is not going to ask her yet. She is really different, you know. Much more reserved than Kira, that’s for sure, but even quieter than Katerina. Eddie says she is totally consumed by her vocation and wonders whether she could make time for him. I thought that was odd, coming from someone in his position.”

Charlie told Peter about the incidents he had with Mikel’s thugs.

“Bad news, Charlie. What are you going to do? Sounds as if things are escalating.”

“I don’t know. The first time I called the cops. They were nice enough and got me on the road in short order, but the impression I got was anything that minor didn’t get a lot of follow through from them. They are sympathetic to an outsider like me, but they won’t get involved until I’m on a marble slab. I just hope it doesn’t spillover to Kira’s folks.”

They reached the first fishing spot, a small meadow with a wide stream meandering through it. They left the horses to graze. Charlie and Peter each caught several fish, which they also released.

They rode across a small pass into another valley system. This time there was a fast running stream racing down an outcrop of rocks. Charlie studied hard and spotted a pool he figured fish would like and got off his horse. Peter nodded as he went by and rode a quarter of a mile up the stream before dismounting. They fished there for an hour in silence. They each had action and released their catches.

Peter came walking down the trail, his horse in tow. “Any luck down here?”

“Very good. These fish don’t seem to care that my fly fishing skills are nil.”

“I know another spot we should try. There might be some other people there, though. Popular area for back pack campers. About a half hour ride.”

They rode further up on the mountain, crossed the stream they worked earlier, and headed for a small lake. As Peter suspected, there were some back packers. Two parties, it looked like.

Peter navigated to the other side of the lake, actually not much more than a pond. Charlie spotted what he thought would be a likely place and once again Peter slowly rode on until he found a satisfactory place.

They again fished for an hour in silence, kept two apiece, packed their gear and headed down a well used path to a trail head. Peter guided them down a few logging trails and they emerged at Peter’s chalet.

The four had a quiet dinner of fresh trout and a vegetable concoction Katerina dreamed up. After dinner they walked the quarter mile into town and found a bar with a band and they went in for a few drinks. Even in their dungaree shorts and flannel shirts the girls caught the eye of several patrons as they walked in. Katerina, with her snow white skin was in stark contrast to the well tanned crowd of hikers and campers.

One loudmouth at the bar started making comments about her. Within a minute a pair of sheriffs’ deputies came in, observed the situation and quietly walked the man out of the bar. It was all done with grace and finesse. With the number of celebrities spending at least parts of the year in the town, the sheriff and bar tenders went to great lengths to protect the clientele from would-be trouble makers. Peter was glad. He didn’t want to get in a fight with any drunks that might start hitting on the girls. For a second he contemplated what the hell had he gotten into. Was having a beautiful woman going to be a hassle forever? He thought it over while watching the ice melt in his drink.

“Earth to Peter,” called Charlie.

“Huh?” Peter looked up.

“You were supposed to get all of that introspective stuff out of the way while we were fishing.”

“Oh, yeah. Sorry.”

“Want to discuss it?”

“No. I got it sorted out. I was returning to consciousness when you spoke.” He decided he was going to have to keep his cool. For the rest of his life, he was going to be exposed to challenges from loudmouths and drunks and other envious men, maybe women, too. Small enough price to pay for the love of a good woman. He leaned over and whispered into Katerina’s ear. She leaned back and gave him the lightest of kisses on the lips.

Despite the fact that he had asked Katerina to marry him weeks earlier, for the first time Peter felt he was actually committed to this woman for the rest of his life. It was no longer just hormones and lust, this was love and respect. He stared deep into Katerina’s eyes for several moments.

“What do you see in there?” Katerina asked softly.

“Everything I never knew I wanted.”

She gave him another brushing kiss. “You can be so silly sometimes. Don’t ever stop.”

They waited for the band to finish their set before leaving for the chalet.

Chapter 12

Peter and Katerina left Tuesday morning so Peter could be back in New London Wednesday morning. Kira and Charlie stayed to the end of the week, taking little excursions everyday to see abandoned gold mines and ghost towns. They talked at length about the future.

In the middle of what had been main street of a deserted town Charlie broached the notion of returning to Jefferson and becoming a country banker after going to college. Kira almost bowled him over with a hug when he mentioned it. “Oh, Charlie! I would really love that. I was so happy when we were at the farm. I just love your mother and the rest of your family. Everybody in town was so nice to me. It is so nice and quiet there. I was hoping you would say something like that, although, one of these ghost towns would be nice and quiet, too!" And she gave him a big kiss.

“There wouldn’t be any more Emil’s or designer dresses. Have to shop by catalog or go to Des Moines or the cities.”

“That is nothing to give up. It is all contrived anyway. That’s not you, Charlie. Emil’s isn’t you. And I don’t mean that from the standpoint of not being good enough, I mean, you’re a Lakeside Inn person, maybe once a month. The Legion is your speed. I can tell. If I never again ate at Emil’s it wouldn’t be a sacrifice. I like my ordinary sailor.” She looked into his eyes for a few moments.

“And I’ve been meaning to ask, but I didn’t want to seem ignorant at your parents. What are the cities?”

Charlie looked at her. She said, “You said I would have to shop in the cities. Isn’t Des Moines a city?”

Charlie smiled. “Minneapolis and Saint Paul, Minnesota. Two cities adjoining each other. They are called the twin cities. Minnesota Twins baseball team. Play the Yankees. Called the twins because they are from the Twin Cities. They are the largest cities in the region. But, all of us who live outside of there just call them ‘the cities’. Want to see them? They are no New York, or even Chicago, but they are the hub of our region.”

“Okay, but we won’t have to spend more than a day there, will we?”

“No a day ought to do it.”

They drove back to Iowa [cap15] and spent another three days there. Charlie spent a morning chatting with his Uncle at the local bank, outlining his goals and hoping for some advice. He came away very pleased with the time spent.

They left Jefferson [cap16] and drove to Minneapolis and St. Paul. They spent some time shopping in Minneapolis and then drove through St. Paul. So now Kira had been to “the cities” and wouldn’t feel left out of future conversations.

The next morning he checked in with the squadron commander’s office. There was a message for him: call Lt. Rawlins at Little Creek, along with a phone number. Charlie called the number. It was the training office for the Seals. The duty phone answerer took a minute to come back with a message. “‘Be in Village this weekend. I’ve made up my mind and would like you to share special evening with us. Will see Moe Friday during the day unless you say otherwise.’ Does that sound like anything to you, sir?”

“I understand completely. Tell Mr. Rawlins I’ll see him anytime after noon on Friday.”

Charlie decided [cap17] the Mustang was too conspicuous and parked it at Don’s house in New Jersey. Kira and he took the train across the river to Manhattan. Their first stop was at the apartment to arrange their clothes for the weekend. They irritated a car full of subway riders as they went to Brooklyn with the remainder of Kira’s luggage.

Kira’s mother was glad to have her back and they fell into a prolonged gab session. Kira had to tell her mother every detail, especially about Iowa.

When they finally had a break in the conversation Charlie said he wanted to stop by some schools and see what it would take to go to school there. He reminded Kira to call Barcinea about a dress, unless she was planning on wearing her Sunday dress.

Kira made a pouty mouth for a few seconds and considered her options. “What is it they say about being in Rome? I will give her a call.”

Charlie left and decided it was a nice day for a walk. He walked to Coney Island Avenue and stopped for a soft drink. He saw Pavel on the sidewalk and waved him down.

They exchanged pleasantries. Pavel mentioned that it looked like Katerina would be marrying Peter and he was happy that she found someone who would be able to provide well for her. He also heard there was chatter on the street that Mikel was serious about putting an end to Kira’s attachment to Charlie.

Charlie felt the pit of his stomach twist into a knot. “This is irrational. She doesn’t want to have anything to do with him. As I understand it she has never had anything to do with him except a couple of dances at some social club last year.”

“Mikel isn’t a rational man. He is unbelievably violent. I mean to tell you. When I say he is very violent you must realize that I also have a reputation for violence and I’m telling you this man is beyond crazy.”

“And there is nothing you could do to change his mind, is there? Not that you owe me anything, we hardly know each other. It’s just that you have a certain level of power and seem to be a bit more reasonable in your attitude about things.”

“There is nothing I can do, or anyone else for that matter. Since you have been out of town he has really been steamed. I would be very careful.”

“Yeah, thanks.” Said Charlie sincerely but with a heavy degree of dejection. God, what do I now?

The women were once again decked out in Barcinea’s finest creations. Kira had on an understated dress along with the magic makeup scheme that made her look like a china doll. Barcinea was dressed in what could only be described as sassy. It was uncharacteristic for her personality, but she looked super and she was absolutely radiant. Charlie suspected she knew what the evening was all about.

Charlie was distracted and detached all evening. He kept up his end of the festivities, but Kira noticed he was just a bit out of tune although Eddie and Barcinea didn’t.

Desert was over and they were lounging over coffee. Kira was about to burst. Emil had started hovering near by, not wanting to miss the moment. Barcinea seemed calm. Finally Eddie fished in a pocket, “Barcinea. I have a small gift for you.” He handed her the box, “Will you marry me?” He said as she was cracking the lid on the box. He almost didn’t get it out. In fact “me” was nearly a squeak. Kira giggled.

Barcinea looked up at Eddie, then took the ring out of the box and handed it to Eddie, “Yes” was all she said. Eddie slid the ring on her finger. Barcinea leaned into Eddie and gave him a big kiss. She was beaming. Charlie thought he had never seen such a display from her. She was like a stage light.

Emil stepped in and asked if he could announce the happy moment. Barcinea said, “Oh yes. And thank you Emil for all of the nice things you do for us.” She reached up and pulled his face down to his and gave him a very indiscreet kiss full on the lips.

Emil was fully blushing as he straightened up. He adjusted his jacket for a moment then signaled the waiting servers who had the champagne. He made his announcement and the applause followed. Eddie and Barcinea stood and acknowledged the salute.

At the apartment Eddie and Barcinea were focused on each other. Charlie and Kira put on some music and decided to dance. After a few slow songs during which no words were spoken Kira finally said, “I know something serious is on your mind, Charlie. What’s the matter?”

“I’m afraid for you, Kira. Your parents, too. I met Pavel yesterday afternoon after I left your house. He told me that Mikel has gone berserk about you leaving town with me. Pavel thinks we are in danger. I don’t know what to do. What do you think about moving to Iowa? You could stay with my folks until I get out of the Navy. I can go to school in the mid-west. We can forget about Brooklyn.”

“What about my parents? Do you think they would be in danger?”

“I don’t know. Pavel told me there are no codes or rules for these thugs. The Italian mobsters have a code of conduct and they do not involve families in their activities. These Russian gangsters have no morals at all.”

“Could my parents go to Iowa, at least temporarily?’

“Yes, of course. You could fly to Des Moines and my folks will pick you up and take care of you for as long as is needed. You know my mother loves you as if you were her daughter and your mom and mine are a lot alike. They would hit it off, I know.”

“All right. I’ll call them tomorrow. Maybe we can leave next week.”

“If your dad can’t get everything under control at the bank fast enough, you and your mom could go to Iowa and you father could camp here. I don’t think Pavel knows about this place. Don would be happy to accommodate him, I know.”

For as passionate and exciting as the rest of the night was for Eddie and Barcinea, it was equally as quiet and anxious for Charlie and Kira. It was the first night they had been alone that they didn’t have sex.

Sunday [cap18] afternoon the four were in a cab returning the girls to Brooklyn. They dropped off Barcinea first. The meter added two dollars as Charlie and Kira waited for Eddie to finish his good-byes.

Eddie returned and they rode over to Kira’s house. As Charlie was getting out of the cab a car sped down the street toward them and screeched to a stop. Three men jumped out and began beating on Charlie with bats, kicking and punching. Eddie saw the situation develop as soon as he saw the car, and the first blow had no sooner been laid on Charlie than Eddie took out the attacker. In one fluid move he immobilized the attacker, leaving him whimpering on the ground.

He grabbed a second attacker, broke the wrist holding the bat and gave him a full force kick to the testicles. The attacker didn’t know what to soothe as he fell to the ground, writhing in agony.

Eddie grabbed the long hair of the third attacker and nearly tore the head off the shoulders. Eddie paused for a second while contemplating what agonies to apply to the last man. He gave the attacker a stunning chop then ran him out into the street behind the car. With a mighty grunt he tossed the attacker through the back window. Blood gushed everywhere on the inside of what remained of the glass. Eddie went back to the first attacker and made sure he was still immobile.

He went over and checked on Charlie. Charlie was unconscious. “Call an ambulance” he yelled at the stunned taxi driver. He looked at Kira, sitting in shock in the cab. “Any of these Mikel?”

She shook her head. “Where is he, Kira? Where do I find Mikel?”

“St. Petersburg bar. Two blocks on Coney Island Avenue.”

Eddie paused for a second, thought about the vague directions then figured it out.

He picked up the first attacker and with a quick motion broke one of his legs. As the attacker screamed in pain Eddie dragged him to the car and threw him on the hood. He went back to the second attacker and broke the second wrist, grabbed him by the neck and made him sit in the passenger seat. “Don’t fall off, “ Eddie yelled as he sat behind the wheel and slowly started down the street with a bat in his hand.

He stopped in front of the St. Petersburg bar. A man coming out as Eddie pulled to a stop saw the mayhem and ran back in the bar.

Eddie grabbed the man riding on the hood and dragged him toward the bar. He threw the bat as hard as he could toward the eight-foot-square window. It shattered and fell in a curtain of glass. It was followed a split second later by the hood rider going through the hole. Eddie went back for the passenger seat victim, who by now was screaming invectives in Russian. Eddie grabbed him by a broken wrist and nearly tore off an arm as he dragged the man from the seat. The victim passed out from the pain on the spot. Eddie threw the unconscious body against the door, blocking anyone from coming out. Eddie looked through the window. He could see people inside, but no one seemed inclined to come to the aid of their comrades.

“Mikel!! Come out Mikel, you fucking coward!! You’re so fucking tough, come on out! Mikel, don’t close you eyes, because you have made the biggest mistake in your life! You hear me, you fucking coward? You make one more move and you will wish you could be in hell!! Give it up Mikel!!”

Eddie walked back to Kira’s house. Paramedics were attending to Charlie. Eddie identified himself as a Naval officer and told the paramedics Charlie was a sailor on leave and Eddie would take care of notifying the Navy. In the mean time Charlie was to get the best treatment available.

Charlie was still unconscious.

Kira was a basket case. Eddie went into the house and made a few quick phone calls. He had a brief conversation with Kira’s father. He nodded gravely, thanked Eddie and turned toward the window in contemplation. He turned back to Eddie. “How long ?”

Eddie said, “Six weeks at the outside.”

“What will you do?”

“Please don’t ask that question, don’t speculate. Anyway, I don’t have an answer just yet.”

“But won’t this just escalate things?”

“No. I promise you. Not only will Mikel not bother you again, you will never hear from him or see him again and his name will never again be mentioned as a threat in this neighborhood.”

Leonid slowly shook his head. His disappointment and dejection were deep. “I had hoped we left all of this behind.”

Chapter 13

The next morn [cap19] ing in Norfolk Eddie made a few follow up phone calls concerning Charlie. He was to be transferred to Bethesda, Maryland. His condition was stable. He was still unconscious but his injuries were not life threatening. One leg was in very bad shape and there was a question about what could be done with it. Eddie pressed about the level of care and was reassured they would do whatever was needed, including bringing in outside opinions.

The next call Eddie made was to the Yeoman for Seal Team Two. He told the yeoman what he wanted. The yeoman told him he would get back before lunch with at least a start of a list, if not all of it.

Eddie called Groton and asked for Peter. It was just a few minutes after he hung up that his phone rang and Peter was on the line. Katerina had called Peter Sunday night and told him what happened. Peter asked Eddie if he had something in mind. “Yes. I need assistance: get a hospital corpsman who knows New York and will keep his mouth shut forever. Carrot? How about that seamstress that works for Barcinea, Gina? Hmm. Hadn’t thought about that. I don’t know, use your head. Call your friend Julius, see if he can supply some sweetie from the choir. Okay. No. Can you be at the apartment this weekend? Oh, that’s right the Petrovitchs are there. Shit. I need a safe house. Okay, I’ll get back to you on that. Right. No, I need a corpsman from the city. Okay. Later.

At 1100 the yeoman stopped by Eddie’s office with a list of ten names. He asked if that was enough.

“Get ten more, or whatever you can.”

“What’s happening?”

“I can assure you that you don’t even want a sniff of this, Okay”

“Got it” and the yeoman left.

Eddie looked at the first name on the list and punched in a number. “Kenny, Kenny Donaldson? Eddie Rawlins from Seal Team Two. Hey, how you doing buddy? Yeah, we all miss you. Hey, I heard you were in law enforcement up there in Charlottesville. No? Hey, you got a minute? Good. Let me run a hypothetical situation past you. Right. Purely hypothetical and I would like to hear your reaction.”

Eddie outlined the situation. At the end he asked Kenny what he would do. Then he asked Kenny if he would be willing to contribute to such an effort. Kenny thought for a few minutes. “For real? That is what you’re telling me, for real. No punch pulling, actual consequences if we fuck up and get caught?”

“That’s the tune.” Eddie replied.

“Where and when? I’ll be there. No reservations.”

“Strategy meeting in Washington this weekend. Saturday 1000, outside the Air and Space Museum on the mall side. Come dressed for soccer.”

Eddie made nine more identical calls. At the end of the list he had eight members. He needed a dozen. He fidgeted waiting for the yeoman to return. It was 1500 when the Yeoman came in with six more names. “This is it. You will have to expand your search if you need more.”

Eddie said, “Thanks, Howard. I think this will do.”

By the time Eddie finished making his calls he had 13 solid team members. Peter called in the middle of the series of calls to report he had his corpsman lined up. “What next? All right, I’ll do that, but what’s in it for him? Oh, yes. He would probably buy in for that. Okay, I’ll mention that he will be next on the list. That’s right. Just because he didn’t help.”

The following Saturday [cap20] Eddie met with his prospective team members in Washington. The first thing they did was a running lap around the mall. Afterwards the sweating group actually looked like a soccer team and nobody paid any attention to what was apparently a coach’s pep talk.

“Skills? Anyone here familiar with air freight systems? Holdridge? What’ve you got? Excellent! Anyone else air freight? Trucking? Good. Lewis and Daniels you’re Team A with Holdridge. Go practice some dribbling in the grass.” The three designated men left the group.

Next. Documents? Three? Great. Lets see, currency? One, good. Passports, which of you is best? Hank? You’re out and Freddy is in. Freddy, you and Mike go over there with Team A. You’re Team B. Go do some passing drills, all the rest of you’re Team C. Don’t concern yourselves with the other two teams, if everything goes as planned you won’t see them again.

“The rest of you are basically going to do an urban assault. I don’t want anybody killed, but you can leave whoever you encounter in severe pain. No firearms of any sort. No diver’s knives or anything else that resembles a piece of military equipment. If you get caught the most that it will be for is assault or B and E. By the time the police put the pieces together they may add on conspiracy. If you’re arrested you’re to ask for an attorney instantly and do not utter one word until the attorney is present. This might end up being very serious. If you get caught I can guarantee that you will get good representation and it will be covered. But aside from that all you will get from this is the experience and whatever you can scavenge from your target. Anyone who wants to stay home now, that is fine with me. This isn’t Seals anymore. Anyone out? Thanks, men, I was sure I could count on you. You can change your mind up to H hour.

“C team, work on your urban skills. You can work however you want, singles or teams, I don’t care. Work it out amongst yourselves. If there has ever been anything you thought would be especially nasty, please use it. Plan is for executing three weeks from today. You will get photos of your objectives, maps and information by Fed Ex in about ten days. Included will be scheduled date and rendezvous. There will be no post operation meeting and you will never speak of this again to me or anyone else. We will plant a fall on someone else. Thank you all for coming out. C team dismissed.” The group loosely formed up and took another lap around the mall, members dropping out at various points until there was no one left.

Eddie had a few words with each member of the document team. They looked concerned with their assignments, but nodded that they would have them done in time. Eddie dismissed them. They also departed running and soon blended in with the sight seers.

The remaining men were briefed on their assignment. No sweat was the answer. See you in three weeks. The group took off in a run and by the time they would have reached the capitol end of the mall they had all dispersed.

Eddie went to his hotel room and showered. He dressed in summer dress white uniform and went to Bethesda Naval Hospital. He inquired about a certain Doctor; not in on Saturday, then another who was on duty. Yes he was available and Eddie was given directions. He conferred with the doctor for several minutes. Charlie was still unconscious. There was nothing they could do. He was stable. They needed him to regain consciousness before they could fix his leg, which was a mess. He would be able to walk, but probably need a cane. As soon as Charlie was discharged from the Hospital he would be discharged from the Navy with a disability pension.

Eddie went to Charlie’s room. Kira was sitting at Charlie’s side holding his hand. Eddie knew that she was there from eight in the morning until ten at night. She had a room at the Ramada Inn across the street. She looked terrible, which was something to say for Kira. They hugged each other. Kira started crying and continued for two or three minutes.

She looked at Eddie, “This is the first time I’ve seen any of you in a uniform. I guess you really are sailors.”

Eddie laughed. “Kira, I just talked with one of the staff doctors who I’ve known for several years, so he gives it to me straight, understand? Charlie is going to be all right. They don’t know when he is going to come out of this, but it may be tomorrow or it may be next week. But when he comes to, he will be all right then. He will need an operation on his leg. They have consulted with the best orthopedic people in the country. The procedure is set and they know exactly what they want to do. Charlie will probably end up with a limp, but that’s it.

“Kira. Look at me. Charlie is going to be all right.

“Now, you can help by being brave and having some faith, okay? You need to eat and get some good rest and take care of yourself. If Charlie wakes up and you look like a wreck, he is going to start worrying about you, which he won’t need. okay?”

Kira started crying again. Eddie took her in his arms and comforted her. “What are we going to do?” She sobbed.

“You’re going to go to Iowa and get married and raise the most beautiful children in the world.”

“Oh, Eddie! I mean what are we going to do about how Charlie got here. I can never be happy with Charlie knowing that crazy man might hunt us down. I’m worried sick he may come through the door any second.”

“Kira, you have to stop worrying. First of all, Mikel would get lost on Staten Island. He isn’t going to leave his home turf to pursue you. In any case, he wouldn’t have any idea of where to look. All the people in New York know is that they released Charlie to a Navy ambulance. They have no idea where the ambulance took Charlie. So stop worrying about that. Your folks are safe. Your mom decided to stay with your father in Manhattan and everything there is fine.”

“But what about Katerina and Barcinea? Mikel has to know they are my friends.”

Mikel is not going to start a war with Pavel, so Katerina is safe. Barcinea is worried. I have to admit she is worried. Barcinea went to Breckenridge yesterday. She is going to stay there and work on sketches until this is all settled.”

Eddie knew he had said the wrong word, “settled” and it only took an instant for Kira to catch on.

“Eddie, don’t do anything. It is not worth it. We can move. Once I’m gone for a few weeks Mikel will move on to someone else. Don’t do anything Eddie, I beg you. You will only get in trouble. You know how things go. Somebody does something wrong and the victims get punished.”

“Kira, you’re going to have to trust me on this. Do not voice your suspicions to anyone, not your folks, not Charlie. No one. Everything will be all right. You have to realize that Mikel is crazy and will never change his mind. You can not live in fear forever. Trust me.”

Kira stood silently for a few minutes. She gave a nervous snicker, “Trust Moe.” she said softly while laughing.

Eddie didn’t quite hear her. “What?”

“Trust Moe.” Kira said a little louder with a nervous laugh and broke down in tears again.

Eddie understood the reference, but the context was way beyond him.

It took several minutes for Kira to compose herself. She excused herself and went into the bathroom to fix her hair and wash her face. When she returned she looked quite a bit better, but a far removed from her normal appearance.

Kira sat next to Charlie again, took his hand and kissed it and held it tight. Eddie sat in another chair and the two resumed the silent vigil. A nurse came in for vital signs and chatted with Kira and Eddie for a minute. She was just about to leave when Charlie mumbled, “Kira”

He tried to open his eyes, but they were stuck shut. The nurse quickly resolved the situation with a damp wash cloth. She pushed a bedside button and in a few seconds another nurse appeared. The first nurse reported the patient is conscious and requested the doctor.

A doctor appeared and checked out Charlie’s vision and asked how he felt. Charlie immediately complained about the leg and the doctor ordered relief for that. Charlie finally saw Kira and managed a smile. “This isn’t Kansas, is it, Toto?”

Kira didn’t recognize the reference, but Eddie did. Eddie smiled and gave Kira’s free hand a squeeze. “He is going to be just fine.”

The nurses asked Kira and Eddie to clear the bedside for a minute. Eddie told Kira that he needed to leave, that he was glad Charlie had finally come to. Kira was not to worry about anything and if Charlie should ask about Mikel, not to mention one word. “Ever!”

Kira nodded and quelled the urge to cry. Eddie gave her a long hug then left.

Saturd [cap21] ay afternoon. Brooklyn.

Peter located Pavel in the Volga Bar. Pavel had a cadre of associates loitering nearby and Peter nodded to a back booth where they could speak in private. When they were alone Peter said he needed Pavel’s help. Pavel immediately said he didn’t have any influence.

“I’m not looking for influence. I need information. I figure I can get it best and fastest from you.”

“What’s in it for me?”

“You get three days advance notice. You and your associates can be out of town on the day in question.”

“And why would we be concerned about that?”

“Stop and think for a minute Pavel. Don’t always be in such a big hurry to be a tough guy. Think about the potential for what is going to happen and what it is going to look like and who the cops are going to roust first.”

“Mikel will be gone?”

“Mikel will be on a long journey. Along the way he is going to pass through hell, then it will get real bad.”

Pavel looked at the commitment on Peter’s face. Peter spoke. “You’re in or against us. No bystanders on this, Pavel.”

“Nobody tells me what to do. Especially some geek like you.”

“I ain’t telling you what to do, you freakin’ moron. I’m asking for your help, in return I’m offering you a chance to avoid the hassle of the decade. Understand? I ain’t telling you nothing. I am giving you some options. Now, you can play tough with me, or whatever you want. In the end there is going to be a big mess everywhere. You can be in the middle of the mess or in the middle of Disney World. It’s all the same to me.”

Peter got up to leave. Pavel signaled to him. “Wait. No need to get pissed. Sit down. Let’s have a beer and talk this over.”

The confrontation ended. They waited for beers to arrive. Peter took a couple of swallows before he explained what he wanted. He emphasized that discretion was paramount. Could Pavel and his guys get the information without calling attention to themselves while getting it? At the end of Peter’s list of requests Pavel asked for some details on what was going to happen.

“The truth is I don’t know. I don’t know who is involved except in very general terms. You don’t need to know and you don’t want to know. The heat is going to be turned up big time after this and you and all your friends will be best off being surprised by the reports. Believe me I don’t know what is going to happen, but I’m positive it is going to be quick and complete and severe.”

Pavel looked at him again. “All right. You get what you want. See me Wednesday evening at the house. Don’t come here.” He sat in contemplation for a few seconds. “Disney World, huh?”

“Jesus, Pavel. Anywhere is good, just be far away. Atlantic City won’t do. Go to Puerto Rico. Just get the hell out of town.”

“Won’t the cops think its strange that we just happened to be gone when this went down?”

“Yeah, so what? Look, am I going to have to go through this letter by letter? I thought you’re the brains here.”

Pavel was turning red with anger. Peter chided him. “Go ahead, Pavel. Do something really fucking stupid, just like Mikel did.”

“You’re making me look bad in front of my men.”

“They aren’t getting any of this. Don’t worry about that. You have to start thinking about some of this shit or the heat will roll you up.”

Pavel sat for over a minute, not saying anything. The color in his face slowly returned to normal. “After all of this is over, if things go the way you say, we get together and talk. Okay?”

“Well, we are going to be brothers-in law, so I guess it would be good to be on speaking terms.”

“Yes. Hey, I just noticed you don’t mention Katerina here.”

“She’s not a pawn in this. This doesn’t involve her. I won’t ask her to choose between you and me. This is a business deal I’m brokering, nothing else.”

“Yes. I see that now. Yes.” Pavel started smiling and laughing. “Yes, now I think I start to see what you mean.” Then he dropped his voice very low, “You teach me business, okay?”

“I’ll teach you business. But you then have to apply what I teach you and your associates are going to have to comply, or else it won’t do you any good. Do they have the stomach for it?”

“They have a cause, they will do what I say.”

“A cause? You mean you have some motive other than just stealing money?”

“Just as there is little I know of you, you know little of me. We are not Russians. We are Chechyn. With the dissolution of the Soviet, we should be free state, but we are not. At least not yet. Our profits go to arm the rebels that will repatriate our land in the near future.”

“Interesting. Now this is just your group we are talking about, not any of the others?”

“The others are just thugs. It is why our father was killed. As long as Soviet was in place, he was valued official. As soon as Soviet dissolved he became a threat.

“So my men will do as I say. If not, they will be, how do you say, riffed?”

“Uh, yeah. Well, uhh, don’t ever involve me with any of those details, Okay?”

Sunday a helicopter flew over Brooklyn, making repeated passes over certain neighborhoods. A few people looked and speculated, but soon went back to their activities.

Wednesday evening [cap22] Pavel and Peter met at the house. Katerina was not happy that Peter was going to spend the time with Pavel instead of her, but she resigned herself to the situation and left them alone.

Pavel had several packets of pictures. Peter had several large envelopes that eventually yielded pictures, also. Pavel put down a picture of a man and identified him. Pavel continued with pictures of apartment buildings, street scenes, automobiles: all belonging to the first subject. Peter made notes on the accompanying photos. They went through the process 15 times. Mikel was the last. His stack was the thickest.

Peter pulled out his photos: aerial pictures of the neighborhood. Street names were burned in where they wouldn’t obstruct a detail. Pavel and Charlie matched up the aerials to the faces.

After they finished making up the piles Pavel turned to Peter, “I had my four best men do this. I tell them one at a time what to do and not worry about anybody else and don’t ask.”

“See, you’re starting to get the idea.”

“I’ve decided where we are going to go.”

Peter looked exasperated, but finally said, “Yeah, Mr. Travel Agent? What did you book?”

“Maybe we tell you when we come back, eh?”

Peter beamed.

“We bring back snapshots.”

“That’s what I want to hear. Pavel, maybe you will live to see 30.” Charlie patted Pavel on the shoulder. Pavel was very happy with himself.

Chapter 14

A few new street people arrived in Brooklyn the week of Labor [cap23] Day. Nobody noticed, not even the other street people. Street people are invisible. Not even a beat-policeman would bother with learning a face of a street person. When they moved they shuffled down the sidewalk or in the gutter, hunched over, rarely meeting anyone’s eye. They might take some time and sit on a curb with paper cup in their hand, jigging for coins. They stunk. Their clothes reeked from not being washed forever. Only an occasional rat seemed to want to make their acquaintance.

Each day and each night they would shuffle through the neighborhood, going down alleys and inspecting dumpsters and garbage cans. By Friday night they knew every doorway, every snoopy neighbor, who went to bed early, who was cheating on her husband and most important, how to get in and out of specific apartments. The only person to approach them was Sister Mary-Martha who offered them a free meal and a clean bunk in exchange for an hour’s religious service.

Friday afternoon Peter showed up at Katerina’s and shortly afterwards they left the house and headed for a weekend in Washington DC. Pavel and his crew departed for Chicago for the weekend to watch the Yankees play the White Sox Friday night and Saturday and watch the Giants play the Bears on Sunday.

The regular party at St. Petersburg bar started breaking up about 1:30. At 2:00 six Russian immigrant gangsters were bound and gagged, terror filling their eyes as they waited for the next surprise to meet them. Their attackers moved on, admitted themselves to silent, darkened apartments and patiently waited. One by one, in a half dozen apartments, the residents came through the door and never knew what happened to them. Mikel’s bodyguard drove Mikel to his apartment and walked with him up to the front door, then returned to the car. As he closed the car door an unheard bullet penetrated the back of his neck, piercing the brain stem and was dead before any blood gushed from the wound.

Mikel thought he heard a pop and turned around, but it was too late. He turned into a gloved hand and in a second he was asleep. Two men whisked him through the apartment building corridor and out the back into a waiting van. As he was dragged into the back of the van it crept out of the alley as the doors were closing.

The neighborhood snoop missed it by five minutes. The lady cheating on her husband saw something from her lover’s bathroom window, but would never come forward.

Sporadic reports came into the Brooklyn Police Stations starting at ten on Saturday. A woman reported screams coming from an adjoining apartment. The door had to be broken down against three dead bolt locks. They found a man, standing naked in his small living room, screaming at the top of his lungs from fear of unseen horrors.

Neighbors smelled smoke. Firemen were called. After breaking in they found a figure, spaced out, surrounded by a ring of burning marijuana.

A store keeper found a whimpering man in a dumpster. Dried blood streaked from each ear. His hands were crushed. He would never hear a sound again and his hands were rendered useless. He had 100 grams of pure heroin in his pockets.

A victim regained consciousness inside his apartment around noon, unaware his left foot was pointing backwards. He tried to walk and fell through the window in the front room of his apartment and landed in a bloody heap on the sidewalk, two stories below.

At two o’clock a passerby noticed the dead man parked in front of Mikel’s apartment building.

By four in the afternoon 12 men were hospitalized for a variety of ailments. Many of them pleaded to be put out of their misery. The screamer was only silenced following a shot of the strongest sedative the hospital had. Mikel was not among the wounded.

Drug war. That was the focus of the Brooklyn PD. With the victims distributed in various hospitals and different police precincts news reporters didn’t quite catch the story until late Monday. By then the editors were more interested in a tenement fire in Bronx that unfortunately killed three children. No one ever got back to the drug story.

There wasn’t anyone to report Mikel missing. At dawn he woke up strapped to a hospital gurney inside a twenty foot step van. The only face he saw was Eddie’s.

“Mikel, you awake?”

Mikel swore at him in Russian and tried to spit at Eddie except his mouth was dry.

“Good. You know who I am Mikel? Good. I just want to make sure that you know who is responsible. Mikel, the word on the street the street is you’re insane. Is that right? Hey!! No need for talk like that, I was just asking.

“Here’s the deal. You fuck with the bull, you get the horns. You understand that? I thought so. Now that we understand each other; you’re taking a long, long journey. But first, you have to be prepared.”

A black man came into the scene, carrying a vial of blood and a syringe. He wore a face shield and latex gloves. He filled the syringe from the vial as Eddie spoke. Mikel started thrashing about as best he could, but all he did was make the gurney jump around a little.

“That’s good, Mikel. Exercise is good for you. You’re going back to sleep in a minute. I just wanted you to see what was coming. That blood came from a junkie who has full blown AIDS and isn’t taking care of it. Look for the needle stick when you wake up, Mikel.”

A hand came from behind Mikel and covered his mouth and nose with a square dipped in ether. Mikel was back to sleep. A minute later the syringe was empty.

The black man gathered all of his gear, placed it in a box, took off the gloves folded them, and then burned them, letting the latex blobs drop into the box. He left without saying a word. An hour passed and Mikel was once again awake, this time with a gag in his mouth and he was strapped to the floor of the van. He tried moving, but he was secured at each appendage and had straps around his torso. He couldn’t see, but he felt his legs were cold, as if he didn’t have any pants on.

Eddie leaned over him. “This is all about Kira, isn’t it, Mikel. Some day you’re going to realize this was a lot of shit to go through for a girl who couldn’t care less about you. We don’t want you to forget her. I’m sure that you don’t want to forget her, either. So we are going to leave you with a few reminders.” Eddie stepped away. A figure kneeled next to Mikel’s left side. There was a buzzing. Mikel tried to scream, but couldn’t. In a minute, the knuckles of the left hand were tattooed K I R A. The operator looked up.

“Anyplace.” Eddie said from a distance.

The operator unbuttoned Mikel’s shirt. He took a knife and slit the undershirt, exposing Mikel’s chest. He set to work. A half hour later most of Mikel’s upper chest was covered in large block letters: KIRA.

“Plenty of time left if you want to express yourself.” Eddie said.

Mikel was whimpering,

The operator set to work on the right arm. He worked for nearly an hour and a half. In the end there was a beautiful band around the arm in red, blue and yellow. On closer examination it was threads of tiny KIRA in a complex weave.

“That is really a work of art. Too bad we can’t get a picture for you. Got ink for one more little one? Good. Yep, that will be it.”

The operator moved down between Mikel’s legs. He quickly left KIRA on the head of Mikel’s penis. Once again Mikel was trying to scream, but nothing came out.

Eddie looked into Mikel’s eyes. Just the right amount of terror. “Your catching on, Mikel. Now I think you have the drift of what your life will be like forever. Every day you’re going to wake up and wonder what I’m going to do to you next.”

The tattoo operator dumped the entire gun and his ink bottles in the box the black man had used. The tattoo operator followed suit by removing the latex gloves and burning them. He left without comment.

Eddy took the gag out of Mikel’s mouth. “I really think you will like the work that ol’ Lester did. Looks nice, don’t you think so, guys?” But there was no one else in the van at the moment. “They like it Mikel. Well now, Mikel, it is just about time for you to make a decision. Which would you rather do, rot the rest of your life away in a jail cell in the US or in Russia?”

Mikel’s eyes grew wide when Eddie said the word “Russia”

“No, No. No Russia.” Mikel was finally able to hoarsely get out. He tried to swallow, but his mouth was still dry. Once again a look of terror crossed his eyes.

Eddie just smiled. “Good, Good. Now we are getting somewhere. I can see you’re starting to realize the gravity of the situation.” Eddie came close and sat down next to Mikel, facing him. “Let me ask you something, Mikel. This Kira, ever get any from her? You know, just man to man. Was it really good?”

Mikel mouthed no, but no sound came out.

“Too bad, isn’t it? All this misery and she never threw any leg on you. Ironic, isn’t it, Mikel? Well, it’s time for you to go to sleep again. Take a minute to think of where you might wake up next.”

The terror was back in Mikel’s eyes as he tried to scream. A hand appeared with a white cloth and he again went to sleep. The black man appeared again and injected a strong sedative into Mikel’s arm. “That ought to keep him out for 12 hours or so.”

“Great. Thanks, Doc.”

“Yeah, no problem. I’ll remember to never piss you off.” The black man tossed the syringe in the box and burned his gloves. He left for good this time.

Eddie and his attendants drove the van to a nondescript warehouse a few miles from Newark Airport. They backed the van to the loading dock next to a truck identified as an independent air freight forwarder. Mikel was stuffed in a large carton and they took the carton inside.

The interior held one standard airline shipping container, and several cardboard boxes filled with flowers. “Get him dressed, please,” said Eddie. “Oh, shit. I almost forgot. Wait a second.”

He went out to the step van and returned with a bat, found the spot on Mikel’s leg and swung as hard as he could. Mikel gasped, opened his eyes for a second and then collapsed.

The crew then dressed him. Eddie surveyed the container. The bottom of the container was layered with packets of counterfeit 1000 Ruble notes. A member took five bricks of cocaine out of the box that carried Mikel and layered them in with the cash. Another laid an air mattress on top of it. When Mikel was fully dressed, including a poor copy of an U.S. passport and a genuine Russian passport taken from one of the associates, he was laid on the mattress. Eddie and another team member put a shelf in place and loaded the remaining space with boxed flowers.

The airfreight handlers closed the container, applied the appropriate seals and labels and were done. Eddie took a large cloth dampened in a solvent and wiped down the entire outside of the container and then it was pushed it into the waiting truck. The handlers locked it in place, closed the back of the truck, got in the truck and left. The remaining warehouse visitors went into the step van, shed all of their clothes and changed into fresh. They got into waiting cars and drove off. An hour later, as the sun sank low on the horizon a series of thermite devices started consuming the materials inside the van. Within seconds the aluminum body of the van holed through from internal heat and molten aluminum burned and dripped to the ground. When firefighters arrived there was only an unrecognizable blob of burning molten metal.

The air freight handlers drove through the gate at Newark after showing passes, proceeded to a warehouse area and backed the truck into an empty dock space. A man with a clipboard came out to greet them.

“What’ve you got?” the man asked.

“Flowers from Ecuador going to Moscow.”

“Got one of them already”

“Yeah? So?”

“Usually I only have one of those on Saturdays”

“Well, that must be why the guy at Ecuador was in such a pissy mood. This was the only container he had on the ramp when we came up. It was like a big surprise to him, too. Well, you got room? He told us to make sure it would get on or else we take it over to Aeroflot.”

“No problem. Half my containers are dead heading anyway. I’ll pull one of them. Customs happy on this?”

One of the operators went to the other side of the container to look. “Looks good to me. Here’s a seal. Man, you can smell those flowers out here.”

They handed the warehouseman a clipboard. He signed a sheet. They bid him good night and drove off.

Mikel woke up somewhere over the North Atlantic. The aircrew did not hear his moans and screams. Surrounded by blackness and the scent of flowers, Mikel convinced himself he was being buried alive.

When [cap24] the container was opened in Moscow a surprised customs agent found a psychotic man with a broken leg, two million in counterfeit rubles, questionable passports and enough cocaine for every junkie in Moscow. Mikel went straight to a security hospital. No one even seemed curious about the fresh tattoos.

Between the cavalier attitude the Russians took about treating his bad leg and the various combinations of therapies they tried in order to entice a coherent sentence out of him, Mikel woke up every morning, first in pain then in various states of paranoia or fuzzy-mindedness. Every time he would urinate he would look down and every time he looked at himself he saw KIRA and regardless of the medication he was on he would scream in terror. He spent the remainder of his life in a drugged stupor.

Sunday afternoon Eddie stopped by Bethesda Naval Hospital. He located Charlie and Kira in a sun room. Charlie was in a wheel chair. His left leg sported metal rods, rings and pins that prevented the slightest movement. A scar ran from mid way on his thigh to his calf and the brilliance of the line and adjacent dots from staples testified to the recent surgery. Kira came over to him and gave him a hug and a kiss on the cheek. Eddie whispered in Kira’s ear, “He’s gone. Forever”

Kira stood back and looked at him, with a quizzical look on her face at first then she broke into a big smile. “Thank you,” she said in a voice so soft Eddie almost didn’t hear it. Kira gave him another kiss. She brushed away a tear as she fought to control the emotions raging within. Charlie didn’t need to know.

Sunday following the incident the NYPD gathered its drug task force and organized crime task force into an auditorium. The Chief of Detectives kicked off the meeting with a pep talk on how they did not want Brooklyn to become like Chicago in the thirties, how they needed to get to the bottom of this quickly and how the Mayor was taking special interest in the situation since it happened in his old neighborhood. Good luck and they had whatever resources they needed.

Detective Fred Hurst rose and gave a report on the casualties. Aside from reciting a litany of injuries, he didn’t have much to contribute. “The victims were all members of a mob controlled by a Russian immigrant named Mikel. They have little to say. The only common denominator is that none of them had any idea what hit them. Their injuries are all over the board. All are maimed to some degree and will never pose a physical threat to anyone again. One of the victims seems physically unharmed but is in a deep state of emotional distress that has the doctors baffled. We may get more on that as time goes by. The ring leader has not been seen since 2 AM Saturday. His bodyguard took a small caliber bullet to the brain stem.

“The fact that anyone is still alive seems to rule out a hit from the Colombians. The Colombians always just mow down everybody. The injuries do not match those that are popular among any of the terrorist training organizations. From the information we were able to piece together it appears there were multiple assailants working at the same time. Who ever it was, their professionalism is several cuts above what we normally see.” He sat down.

A second detective rose. “Ken Jones, special operations. Our undercover people are baffled. We had a man in Mikel’s organization. He did not get hit. Although we are thankful we did not lose an officer, we are very concerned about that situation from a number of viewpoints.

“To start with the fact that our man was untouched indicates he was probably made by the attackers, which means that we have a weakness in our protocols for handling operatives. We may be able to resurrect him with the proper cover story. Frankly, I’m worried on this one. I would like to find who is behind this if for no other reason than to find out their methodology.

“Next, there was no word on the street in advance, absolutely none. Today the snitches are paranoid because the word on the street starting on Saturday was that the perps know who every snitch is and if anyone is even seen in the presence of a suspected policeman they will get the same treatment. This has some credibility among the snitches since the undercover man was left alone.” He sat down.

A third detective stood up. “Jack Rogers, Drug Task Force. With the exception of the marijuana fire, we think the bulk of the drugs and all of the cash was boosted. Most of the victims’ apartments had drug residue, even some random dime bags that were found in out of the way places. It’s as if the attackers were happy getting the large amounts but weren’t worried about the last little bits.” He sat down.

Another man stood up. “Gerald Chin, forensics. With this large number of victims and so many crime scenes it is going to take some time to come up with any information that you can use. We have every tech in the lab working on this. It took until late yesterday afternoon just to survey all of the apartments. All I have to say at the moment is that we found evidence of drugs at each location and many of the victims were holding in excess of the limit required for a distribution charge. Other than that all I can comment on is what we didn’t find. There are no bloody footprints, no forced entries, aside from those apartments where the police or firemen had to break in, and no obvious weapons. The projectile taken from the deceased was a .22 that has no rifling pattern on it. Probably from the zip gun found in the car.

“We have incomplete reporting on the injuries. The few pictures and examinations our forensic pathologist has had access to indicate each victim received individual consideration. For instance, the beating marks on one victim were indicative of a piece of rebar. Another appears to be from a heavy section of angle iron. The victim with what was reported as a broken foot actually suffered from several crushed bones. The bones have been pulverized to the point that reconstruction will be impossible.”

A man from the other side of the table broke in. “Mr. Jones. Does your man inside have any theories to offer? Any internal strife or maybe retaliation from a vigilante group in the community?”

“Yes sir, we have some options. We are waiting for some facts before we start pursuing anything with any vigor. In the meantime we are asking the precinct detectives to check out some leads.”

“Would you care to share any of these with us at this time?” asked the speaker in an inflection that indicated it was an order more than a request.

“Yes, sir. This gang was more aggressive than most of the others. Our operative is convinced the leader, Mikel, was psychotic. He even speculated that Mikel may have done this himself, he is that far gone. Another option is that six months ago there was a shoot out that supposedly involved a Jewish self defense group. We have some reports that the Jewish group has had some formal training, but it is all anecdotal. They do seem to have enough willing participants to pull this off, but I’m skeptical they have the level of sophistication we witnessed here.

“Several weeks ago a couple of Mikel’s thugs roughed up a sailor who was seeing a local girl that Mikel was sweet on. Something got turned around in that fray and the thugs ended up in a pile back at the watering hole the gang used as a meeting place. Our man doesn’t know what happened to the sailor or the girl. There weren’t any reports or charges filed by the individual or the Navy and the gang was forbidden to mention anything about the situation by Mikel.

“Then there are the day to day turf battles with three or four other gangs. Mikel was not respected by anyone. He was feared mostly because of his purported mental instability. Once again we are faced with the dichotomy of having maimed, instead of dead, victims.”

Jones sat and the last speaker rose. “Jordan, Brooklyn DA office. We will prosecute everyone for possession with intent and send them up as soon as they are healthy enough to stand in front of a judge. We have decided that there won’t be any deals on this, everybody gets the maximum. In a peculiar way, this is a gift for us. We will have to see what the eventual situation is on the vic who is wigged out, he may just get a ticket back to Mother Russia. The others can go back after five years in Attica. These will be open and shut, the DA is adamant on trials for everyone. We have been getting a steady stream of calls from people who say they will be willing to testify about witnessing drug sales. We have the photos we need.”

A voice asked, “What about the cash. Won’t the jury want to see some cash?”

“That’s an excellent point. We have some obvious places defense attorneys can challenge us, but we have our strategies mapped out. I’m just here to reassure you the DA is going to try each case. No rollovers on this one.”

“Anything else?” Asked the Chief, which was a signal the meeting was over. “All right. You folks stay in close touch with each other. The Mayor will want another briefing Thursday afternoon, so I’ll see all of you again Thursday morning. Let’s try to get this wrapped up as soon as possible.”

The meeting on the following Thursday had little to contribute. Forensics was wading through a pile of fingerprints, the only thing resembling evidence they were able to find. Every known gang member had been interviewed and alibis were being checked, most were good. The detective making that report did not see fit to mention Pavel’s gang convenient trip to Chicago: it didn’t strike him as improbable. The Jewish self defense group stonewalled. Mikel couldn’t be located. The sailor lead was never mentioned in any report.

The expected storm from the media never developed. The Mayor became interested in a Subway operator caught stoned on the job. Within ten days the Saturday morning massacre held no special interest and the files fermented, growing with bits and snatches, but not a lot of time was spent on it. There was no community outrage over the atrocities inflicted upon the gang members, no hue and cry over the death of a leading Russian bodyguard, no demands for the safe return of Mikel to the neighborhood. Eventually all of the gang went to jail, with the exception of the screamer. He was judged not to be a threat to himself or anyone else. He was deported without significant challenge.

Chapter 15

A month later Katerina was back in town, Kira’s parents were back in their house, Barcinea returned from her visit to Colorado. Life returned to big city normal. Peter was on a deployment and wouldn’t be back for several weeks. But, when he returned he anticipated being discharged soon afterwards then he and Katerina could be married.

Eddie showed up at Barcinea’s one Tuesday afternoon and shocked everyone when the word spread. He had resigned his commission in the Navy. He told Barcinea what he told his Commanding Officer. He had done something serious that, when it came to light would not reflect well on the Navy or the SEALS. It would be best for the service to be able not only deny all knowledge but to be able discount the actions of a former, rather than current, member of the service. The Commanding Officer urged Eddie to reconsider, that the situation would probably never come to light, but Eddie said no, he could not risk compromising the Navy or the SEALS just for his personal motives.

Few people saw Eddie and Barcinea during the following weeks. Barcinea called Katerina one day and asked her if she and Pavel would come to City Hall the next day and witness their marriage. Katerina was thrilled and told her they would meet at Barcinea’s and all go together.

They took a taxi to the magistrate’s office. Katerina and Barcinea chatted the entire way. Pavel only had a few words. “You and Peter, you are smart, yes? I just want to say that I was wrong in the past not to realize this. Please accept my apologies and also my thanks.”

“Don’t mention it.” replied Eddie with a smile.

“Oh, I won’t. But I am going to try to tap Peter’s brain for some ideas about making my business better. I think I could learn a lot from any of you.”

They were silent for the rest of the trip. When they got to the courthouse and got out of the cab, Pavel took Eddie aside for a second. “I want you to know, that everything turned out the way Peter said it would. Not only that, the police went after a Jewish defense group before they lost interest. One of my men was in the precinct station the other day and said that the files already have dust on them.”

“Well, pass that along to Peter when he returns, I know he will be relieved to hear that.” Eddie said flatly. Pavel looked at Eddie’s unexpressive face. Pavel made a strange expression on his face and sucked his breath through his teeth, then blew it out.

“Sorry.” He said.

Eddie put on a smile, “C’mon I want to get married.” And he put his arm around Pavel’s shoulders and they walked up the steps to the waiting women.

“I had to tell Pavel what to do with the ring.” Eddie claimed. Pavel looked sheepish and gave a naive shrug of his shoulders.

After the ceremony, they went to a tea room. The party broke up in an hour and Katerina and Pavel wished them a happy honeymoon. As Katerina came to Eddie she paused for a minute while he whispered in her ear, “Someday you and Peter will need a house. Call me.” Katerina hugged him and gave him a kiss.

They drove to Fort Lauderdale on a four day casual trip. There they rented a 30 foot sailboat for a month. They spent the month sailing from one island to the next. At each Island they would stop and make notes of the tourist scene, what kind of people were there, how the local economy was and other details. At the end of the trip they had their plan. They would move to Freeport. Barcinea would set up a dress shop featuring designer tropical wear. Labor was plentiful and cheap, so she would not have to do any production sewing or cutting. Eddie would set up a dive shop and also supervise charter fishing and diving. Between the two endeavors they planned to live a quiet life away from the bustle of the big city.

After returning the boat to Fort Lauderdale they flew back to Freeport, Bahamas. Eddie spent an hour in a small bank. He came out and they went to a real estate office. They told the agent what they wanted: preferably two adjacent storefronts or two store fronts close together. The agent did some calling around for about 15 minutes then took them for a walk. There was a pair of adjoining shops that were occupied, but the agent assured them they could be vacated in thirty days. The shops were right on the waterfront. Eddie inquired about buying the entire building. The agent raised his eyebrows in a questioning fashion. He would have to see, he finally conceded. Eddie shrugged.

They looked at two other locations. Barcinea thought the second location looked best for traffic for her shop. Eddie had to think about the effect of not having a waterside location on his business. In the end he went along with Barcinea’s choice. They had done some projections and decided Barcinea could probably make more money than he could, so she should have priority.

Once again Eddie inquired about buying the building, and again the agent said he would have to find out. Eddie signed an option agreement on renting the store fronts. They bid the agent farewell and walked down the street to a yacht broker. Eddie gave him the specs on what he wanted. The broker told him to return the next morning and he should have something to pick from then.

They spent the night in the casino. Barcinea wore an outrageous dress that caught the eye of every woman in the casino. Eddie was dressed smartly right along side her with a custom designed evening jacket and tropical shirt. Barcinea had started a buzz, and buzz would sell dresses.

In the end the little bank covered checks for $350, 000 for the boat, $300, 000 for the building and another $100,000 for stocking and outfitting the two shops. As the sewing machines were being unpacked a queue of women formed in front of the shop. No need to put out a help wanted sign, the word was on the street. Jobs were precious. Barcinea knew she would have to sort out how to get good help. Within three days she had her workforce.

Two weeks later the boat arrived. Eddie was inspecting the boat with the broker, making sure everything was the way he wanted. They were about finished with the inspection when a huge black man showed up on the pier.

“I suppose you will be needin’ a mate on something that size, captain.”

“I suppose I will. Do you know where I might be able to find one?”

The man chuckled and said he was available. Eddie looked at the broker who gave an almost imperceptible nod.

“Come on board and let’s see what you know.” The man’s name was Thomas McDonald. He knew everything there was to know about the local waters, where the fish were, where to dive, where sunken ships were. He didn’t mind baiting hooks, handling fish, cleaning fish, scraping the bottom, swabbing decks. Anything to do with a boat or the sea, he could handle.

Eddie went over the duties. Basically Thomas would be in charge of making sure the boat was always ready to go to sea with the exception of bait and provisions. He got a daily wage regardless of what the boat was doing, all of the tips a mate normally would get for cleaning fish and baiting hooks, and 50% of the profits at the end of the year that were above a fixed amount. Start right now. Get familiar with the boat and we will go out for a shakedown.

Eddie went back to the broker. “A cousin of yours?”

“No, no. Thomas has been on these waters all of his life, there won’t be a better mate for you. That’s all. Just looking after my customers.”

“I appreciate it.”

A few hours later Thomas and Eddie left the pier and headed for open water. Each of them put the boat through its paces and each made a close inspection of the boat while the other had the helm. After an hour they stopped the engines. They discussed what they thought about the boat and the way it handled. Thomas said he thought it would be a pig in just moderate seas and really unpleasant in heavy seas. Eddie looked at him in amazement. Thomas talked him through it, what he observed and how he felt it was the wrong bow for the rest of the boat.

Eddie whistled in amazement. He stood silently for a few moments as the boat rose and fell gently in the swell. “Okay, back to the pier. Tell Mr. Lincoln we don’t want this boat. Tell him what we do want. Let me know when it arrives. Come over to the shop if there isn’t a boat at the pier.”

Four days later two boats were at the pier. Thomas finally gave his nod to one of them. In the meantime Eddie had the dive shop somewhat whipped into shape.

Eddie and Thomas spent an entire day with the boat and both came home pleased. The next day they spent with the mechanics at the boat yard outlining the equipment that needed installation. Thomas made up a list of fishing equipment that was needed and gave it to the local shop to fill. The store owner was blunt, “Boss, you can take a trip over to Miami and get this stuff for a whole lot cheaper, even counting your time and your fuel.”

“That may be, but those store owners aren’t going to recommend my boat when a customer asks, are they?”

With their businesses in place and starting to gain some customers, Eddie and Barcinea finally had a visible means of support. They would go to the Casino twice a week so Barcinea could show off a dress. On Saturdays she would take part of the morning to visit the hospital and do volunteer work.

The businesses became steady and after a year the couple was gaining respect in the community. They treated their help well and worked behind the scenes for needy causes. Life was sweet and simple.

Chapter 16

Peter was discharged three weeks after his [cap25] last deployment. The following week Peter and Katerina traveled to McKeesport, Pennsylvania and they were married. Katerina spent the time Peter was at sea and the week before the wedding in intense preparations with the parish priest and was baptized in the Orthodox Church the day before the marriage. Katerina commented to Peter how ironic it was for her to have to come to the United States to be married in a Russian church. Don and Sharon drove from New Jersey, bringing Kristina with them. Charlie, Kira, Eddie and Barcinea also attended. Charlie, on crutches, and Kira stood with the bride and groom. The Pennsylvania town folk were no more sophisticated then those in Iowa and Katerina was the focus of interest, just as Kira had been.

Peter had lined up work before he was discharged. He would independently test and evaluate radio devices for the Navy and other services. Katerina wanted to get out of the city but did not want to be too far from her mother whose health was starting to fail. Peter and Katerina found an acreage on Long Island near Northville. The combination of quiet rural living and reasonable proximity to Katerina’s mother and space for Peter to build radio antennae was ideal. Peter loved the ocean anyway and being close to it was a bonus. They contracted for a modest house.

Peter called Eddie. “Hey, buddy! We’re going to be having a house warming party soon. Katerina said to call you.”

“Well that’s great. How much do you need?”

Peter was silent for a minute. He hadn’t thought about Katerina’s comment to call Eddie. Then the light began glowing. “You’re shitting me.”

“No, I’m not.”

“I won’t have any problem getting a loan here.”

“This won’t be a loan. Think of it as an entitlement.”

Peter thought for a moment. “Maybe you’ll fill me in on the details when you come up for the party.”

“Not a problem, Eddie said. “Now, back to the pertinent question. How much?

“Total is one eighty-five. I already paid for the land.”

A wire transfer deposited $185,000 in Peter’s escrow account two days later.

While the house was being built Peter and Katerina stayed with Katerina’s mother. Pavel had moved into his own apartment at his mother’s insistence. She was not happy with his associates spending so much time at her house. One Saturday morning Katerina and her mother went shopping. Pavel came by soon after they left to talk with Peter.

“I’ve put a lot of thought into what you said before, ah, before I went to Chicago. Since then I’ve tried to put some of these ideas in place and they seem to be working well. But I need to learn a lot more.”

“I once remember me asking you for something and you wanted to know what was in it for you. So I guess I can ask you that now,”

“Peter, that was long ago, I’ve apologized. Now we are brothers-in-law. What is matter with helping brother-in-law succeed? It’s not for me. It’s for the cause.”

“You’re hopeless. Go sell cars.” Peter responded with a touch of irritation. “All right, this won’t be easy and it might take quite a while, Okay?”

“Yes, yes. You have my attention.”

“Okay. There are several philosophies you have to adopt. The first is a realization that every business is in competition with other businesses. Some people consider competitors as enemies and then the next step is to demonize the enemy. This is the first mistake. The enemy or competition is just other people such as yourself. They have talents, they have a certain level of cleverness and intelligence. They are not demons, or stupid or without talent. On the other hand, they are not Superman, Superman is a fantasy. The point of all of this is that the first thing a person in competition has to have is respect for his competitors, not fear, not envy, respect.”

That first session lasted for two hours. Every time Pavel would slip into his tough-man mode of thinking Peter would rap his knuckles and make Pavel think of what he was saying. At the end of the session. He quizzed Pavel on what he had learned.

“Who is your competitor?”

“The other gangs and the police.”

“And what do we know about the police?

“They are people just like us, no smarter, no dumber. They have awesome resources but are limited by strict regulations and often guided by politics.”

“Bingo! Class dismissed.”

A few weeks later Peter focused on compartmentalization. “Every business has product lines. Kimberly Clark is a huge company. Most of what they make is paper products. They make toilet paper, facial tissue, paper towels, sanitary napkins. Now, let’s say you’re in charge of this company what would you do? Would you have them all being managed by one person? No? Why not? Right! The products are diverse and it would be too much for one man to handle.

“Next, do you think the workers in the plants making paper towels should be concerned about sales problems in sanitary napkins? No. How about the managers? Maybe. Look, the long and the short of it is to identify specific product lines, have your people specialize in that product line and keep the workers from one product having any knowledge of who the other workers are or what they do. If you can get away with it, you keep the supervisors segregated, also. Maybe there is certain information that needs to be shared, about the competition or mistakes made one place that can be avoided throughout the company. That gets disseminated through the supervisors to their workers.

“The supervisors report to their supervisor. The workers only contact the second level in an emergency. When a worker gets an order, he doesn’t know who it actually originated with, his supervisor or somewhere up the chain.

“This segregation gives you two things, easy accountability and deniability. Suppose a prostitute gets picked up and they question her about gambling activities. She can honestly say she has no idea of who is doing what with gambling. So, she takes the fall for prostitution, you cover her, she keeps her mouth shut on the stuff she knows and the stuff she doesn’t know.

“The really important part is when you want to rough someone up or hit. Why should the whole damn gang know of it? That’s dumb. Someone is given the order to do the hit from the hit supervisor. Now a dealer gets nabbed and asked about the hit. How should he know from a hit? He can’t bargain down by squealing because he doesn’t have anything but suspicions. No facts.”

And on and on it went. A few weeks would go by and Pavel would show up. When the new house was done he would travel by train to the end of the line where Peter would meet him. During nice weather they would go fishing.

One weekend he had a question. “They just put the squeeze on Karl Frankovitch. Has the gang uptown. Word is they got him for tax evasion.”

“That’s the favorite collar. That’s how they got Al Capone. They get everybody on taxes. Thought you knew that.”

“No, I didn’t know that. I thought people got put away for murder and dealing.”

“Well, the really dumb ones get a murder conviction now and then.”

“So what do I do about taxes. How do I avoid that?”

“Well, you can pay them, but then you incriminate yourself plus the government will take half. The main thing with these guys is the feds come in and say, we found this much money in a box or wherever and how did you make it and prove you paid taxes on it. Of course, they catch you with some obscene amount of money you could never have made hustling pool.”

“You are going to have to lay this out for me, I don’t think my intuition is going to help me any.”

“There are four million people in Brooklyn. What do most of them do for money?”

“Well, I guess they go someplace each day and work.”

“AND,” Peter pressed.

“And..... and they get paid once a week.”

“AND,” Peter pressed further into the blank stare he was encountering.

Pavel paused. “Uhh, and they pay their taxes.”

“Right on brother!”

“So, what does that do for me?”

“Think about it, Pavel. What did I tell you weeks ago about visibility?”

“Be invisible, look like everyone else.”

“Okay, now just how are you going to do that in this case?”

“Shit, I don’t know. You said if I put down on my taxes where the money came from I would go to jail.”

“All right, let me try this. Suppose you know that if the man catches you you can lie and he will believe you. Got it? Okay, I’m the man and you have a thousand dollars in your pocket and you want to be invisible. Pavel. Where did you get that thousand dollars?”

Pavel waited for an eternity. He hated Peter for being so smart and mentally harassing him. AHA!. “I earned it at my job.”

“Which is?”

“Oh! Shoe shine stand!”

“Bingo”

“But they find the box and say, you cannot make all this money shining shoes.”

“Put it in a box they can’t find. No, they follow me and eventually find the box.”

“Well, that’s right. And now you’re at the point where you need outside help. The short answer is you put it in a Swiss bank account. But there are problems with that, so you get somebody to launder the money for you which will take 20% or so. But, if you do it right they never find the box.”

“You help me hide the box?”

“No, Pavel. You’re still too vulnerable. If you ever get your act together, maybe I’ll talk to you then. Right now, if you get busted, I go down with you. I’m not going to chance doing any time.”

“What about before? One man dead. One man missing, still. Bodies all over the city. Arson.”

“There was nearly no chance of me being implicated. Think about it. You know infinitely more than the police do and yet, you know nothing. You don’t know who did what, how many were involved, you know nothing. I had nothing to do with it, I was in Washington D.C. Now, I’ll give you a little secret. All of the things you don’t know, I don’t know almost as much.

“Think about that. Can any of your soldiers or lieutenants say what I just said about any of your operations? Can you bluff me into thinking that you’re supporting your lifestyle by some legitimate method? Look, Pavel, this isn’t meant to put you down. But I don’t sign on for suicide missions. I’ll sign on for a mission where I realize that I’ll be hanging alone in the breeze if I get caught. But I won’t sign on for a mission where situation isn’t as close to golden as it can be.”

Chapter 17

Charlie had a series of three operations over a nine month span. Following his convalescence he was discharged on a disability. Two weeks later, August 18, 1990, Charlie and Kira were married.

Charlie, Kira and Kira’s parents went to Jefferson for the wedding. Katerina and Barcinea would stand on one side, Peter and Eddie would stand on the other. Barcinea designed dresses for the entire party, including Charlie’s and Kira’s mothers. She caught an inspiration of pioneer primitiveness and translated it into five elegant dresses that seemed completely at home in the small frame church.

Barcinea and Katerina turned out to be the big attractions and Kira was relieved that she wasn’t the side show attraction for a change. Eddie’s parents met Barcinea for the first time the Monday before the wedding. Kira had briefed Barcinea on the customs and by the day of Kira’s wedding Eddie’s mother had Barcinea in tow, proudly introducing her daughter-in-law to everyone she could grab.

The Petrovitches asked if they could stay with Tom and Carole.. Tom and Leonid seemed to have nothing in common, but Leonid was eager to learn about the farm and on Tuesday was in bibs and rubber boots, going everywhere with Tom. The mothers instantly hit it off. In an unspoken agreement they decided to abandon the increasingly hyper Kira and spent as much time as possible together in the car, roaming the countryside visiting family and neighbors.

Peter and Katerina waited until Friday afternoon to arrive. Kira was so excited about the upcoming ceremony she didn’t notice the mischievous, knowing glances between Katerina and Barcinea. The rehearsal dinner was at the Lakeside Inn. The plans were for a standard prime rib, walleyed pike or roasted chicken dinner: typical Lakeside Inn fare.

For a second Kira was concerned when they arrived because the parking lot was nearly empty and the sign out front said “Closed Friday for Private Party”. The party wasn’t that large to take up the entire restaurant. Before Kira could question the situation she was distracted by Carole.

Inside the tables were arranged with a head table and four circular tables facing it. There were flowers on every table. Kira started to protest that there must be some mistake, but Carole said, “Just go along with it, dear. Even though this is Iowa, we want it to be special.”

Kira looked confused, but didn’t have time to think as she was seated with Charlie. Waiters and waitresses appeared, not in their usual black slacks and white shirts, but in waistcoats. They handed each person a black menu.

Kira looked at it, and in disbelief she turned to Charlie, “This is a copy of the menu we were given at Emil’s on our first date. Oh Charlie, how sweet. How did you do this?”

“I didn’t have anything to do with it.”

The waiter interrupted the discussion for their order. They ordered and Kira immediately went back to the topic. “But who did? How did they get a copy of the menu?” She turned to look at her parents. “Papa, is this your doing? Did you get a copy of Emil’s menu?”

Her mother answered, “It is not a copy, dear.”

Kira looked at her for a second, trying to figure out what she had just heard. Her mother made a motion toward the kitchen area. Just inside the dinning area stood Emil and when he caught Kira’s eye he gave a big grin and a little wave.

Kira squealed with delight, in her hurry to get up she knocked over her chair and dashed over to Emil. The crowd was in on it all the time and they had a big laugh and a round of applause. She gave Emil a big hug and an indiscreet kiss full on the mouth. Tears were flowing down her face. She was beside herself. In the meantime, Charlie hobbled over to shake Emil’s hand and give him a hug of thanks.

Emil held up his hand. “Friends, I know this is the wrong time for toasts and announcements, but I just want you to know that the six young people who are here tonight have become like sons and daughters to me during their all too infrequent visits to my cafe. I am proud to have played maybe a small role in their romances and I’m so happy I was asked to participate in Kira and Charlie’s wedding. Thanks to the Paulson’s and their fine staff for accommodating a fussy old man. I’ll help with the pots and pans afterwards.”

The small crowd laughed. “Now, please eat hearty. Thank you.”

The wedding was simple and elegant. During the recessional the smile on Charlie’s face and radiance on Kira’s overshadowed Charlie’s lurching trip down the aisle.

Emil missed most of the reception activities which included everyone in the county who was ambulatory. The Ladies Aid ladies corralled him in the church kitchen and pestered him about canapés and deserts.

In a sporadic stream one could see a small girl or boy would appear standing next to Katerina, staring at her near transparent skin and wanting to touch it to see if it was real. She indulged the smallest of Eddies’ cousins by taking them off their feet and giving them a small peck on the cheek. She would talk to them for as long as their attention span lasted, let them go and take on the next one.

The usual knot of teenaged boys was filled in with the town bachelors as they stared at Katerina and Barcinea. They kept their distance. For as attractive as Barcinea was, they all knew that Eddie was a SEAL and besides not tolerating any stupid moves by them, he could also whip all of them at one time.

**********************************************************

Two weeks [cap26] later Charlie started his college studies on a full scholarship at Penn. With his small disability pension and Navy education benefits he and Kira were able to live in a studio apartment off campus. Kira signed on as a teaching assistant in foreign languages to supplement their income and also allow her to attend school for free. They quickly settled in to a quiet life style of academia with occasional breaks for trips to see her parents.

Chapter 18

September, 1991

Peter had an assignment involving data streams and satellite transmissions. He called Leonid for some computer insight. Katerina and Peter went into town the following Saturday. Leonid now had a more streamlined machine in his basement work area; the original machine was pushed off into a corner. Peter asked what it was doing there and when Leonid said it was just collecting dust Peter asked if he could buy it.

Leonid said it was rather slow compared to new machines and he could have it for free as long as Peter took care of carting it off. Peter told Leonid what he wanted to accomplish and asked if the machine handle the situation and would Leonid teach him what he needed to know.

The machine would not handle real time data streaming but could handle processing at ¼ speed. He would be happy to teach Peter what he needed to know.

Peter called Pavel. “Get enough guys together to move an old computer from Petrovitch’s house to my house tomorrow. Rent a truck. The guys can use the boat to go fishing afterwards. 10 will be fine tomorrow”

Leonid was not happy about the transportation arrangements. “I don’t like these gangsters coming into my house. It will upset Katerina’s mother. I don’t know why you continue to deal with Pavel. Just because he is your brother-in-law doesn’t make him any better than the rest of them.”

Peter said, “Leonid, I’m sorry this makes you uncomfortable. As far as my association goes I want you to think longer term. The man who knows his enemy’s every move, his habits and his weaknesses, can eventually conquer him from within.”

Leonid shook his head in disapproval but knew he wouldn’t be able to change Peter’s mind about Pavel. He changed the subject back to computers. Peter and Leonid made arrangements for Leonid to tutor Peter. Leonid gave Peter a list of books to get.

They had made reservations for an early dinner at Emil’s including Petrovitches and Katerina’s mother. Everything was still on the house. Emil berated them for not visiting more often, he thought of them as family and family should be seen more often. Katerina told him how sweet he was and gave him a kiss. Emil was floating for the rest of the evening.

Within three weeks Peter was writing programs. A month later he was intercepting traffic addressed to the bank and reading the transactions. He didn’t know who was actually moving money around, but he could see which account numbers were involved. At that particular time he had accomplished his goal from a learning standpoint.

Peter turned his attention back to the radio side of his assignment and three weeks later he generated a design for a circuit that would be more forgiving of compromised and marginal signals. As a bonus he found an error in an antenna design and made an adjustment to it.

There wasn’t another project when he finished. He wasn’t worried. He had made enough on the last project to carry him for several months, plus he had enough in savings from previous jobs to last for a long time.

Two weeks later Peter casually invited Leonid and Pauline for Sunday dinner. Could they impose and ask them to also bring Katerina’s mother? Thank you.

Before dinner Leonid and Peter went out to Peter’s work shop. Peter went over what he was able to do. Leonid could not believe Peter had leapfrogged him so much. “Now that you have all of this knowledge, what will you do with it?” Leonid asked.

“I doubt this knowledge is unique. I’m sure NSA, CIA and others have the same knowledge. I think I’ve finally found a away I can get my hands around the throats of all those damned gangsters. I’m going to need some inside help and some logistical help.”

The old computer had served its need. A desktop computer would serve Peter as long as he could use Leonid’s machine occasionally. They talked about connecting the two into their own little network. Leonid came up with the scheme and Peter built the equipment in a week. The phone company lines were pathetic. Peter knew of some unused channels on a communications satellite intended for testing and maintenance and they decided to use the satellite link, even though it was just 60 miles between the houses.

Leonid just shook his head in disbelief when they tested the system two weeks later. He started thinking of some contracts he could now bid on. Peter asked for a tour of the bank’s facility on the chance he could find some equipment that could use improvements. The resulting tour was more than Peter could have asked for. The traffic manager turned him over to the operators. Peter not only left with the specifics on all of their equipment, but he also had a list of their channels, keys for their codes and access codes for their data bases. He wanted to tell them how stupid they were, but this would allow him to see what the civilian world was up to.

A month later he had a better handle on the bank’s operations than most of the bank officer’s had. Then he got to wondering if he could look at other banks. Somebody was already doing it, of course, so he contemplated asking what approach they used. Then he drew up a plan that he would try. If it worked, he wouldn’t need any help.

After a week of monitoring he had discovered which channels were being used. Once he knew which channels to monitor he could start watching transaction flow. Once he had the transaction flow he could start analyzing it to determine where it came from, then he would see if he could determine the names on the accounts.

Several weeks went by. He had thousands of names and account numbers from hundreds of banks. One day he established an account in an unknown bank, transferred a million dollars to the account and transferred it back to the original account. He had to think about that for awhile. A few days later he stumbled across the directory for all of the banks having international transfer codes. An operator conveniently placed the information where virtually anyone could get it.

It finally dawned on him. The box he had been telling Pavel about for so many years. The box was in hand. First he wrote a few lines of code and established himself as a transparent administrator with his own access code. The computer and his radio transmitter silently established his entrance into half the banks in the world, and nearly every bank in havens such as Panama, Belize, Caymans and Bahamas. The Swiss were much smarter and they had closed the administrator loop holes years before, but never passed along their knowledge of the problem. The Russian banks were no problem at all. Peter decided that there might be interesting things that could be accomplished there in the future and set up four accesses in each bank.

Now he was ready to capitalize on his work and knowledge. The following day he made a lunch date with Leonid in Manhattan. He outlined his plan. Leonid listened with half-hearted interest. Peter knew Leonid would be a tough sell, but he had to make it work. “You’re an important link in this, Leo. I want to store my work on your computer. The only thing I can afford to have in my possession is a dumb terminal.”

Leo considered the situation for a moment. He didn’t have to have it explained to him. All Peter would be doing is sending commands and looking at results, Leo’s computer would be doing all the work and storing the programs and data. “Why not just buy another computer and put it in a shack somewhere?”

“Two reasons, Leo. And I thought about this a long time before coming to you, but you’re my best answer. It has to do with foot prints. If I set up a separate facility there will be a trail of who owns the facility, the computer and the radio. It would eventually lead back to me. On the other hand, your facility already exists and there are virtually no links between us.”

Leo said flatly, “Eventually this will come apart. Where will that leave me?”

“Where would you like to be, Leo? I know you aren’t all that happy with your situation. Where would you like to be?”

Leonid sat quietly for a few minutes. “Iowa. A university near where Kira and Charlie will be living.”

“When do you want to move? I’ll buy your house and everything that is in it you don’t want to move.”

“You’re very serious about this, aren’t you? You’re a smart young man, but you aren’t perfect. You know that, don’t you?”

“Yes, sir. Very much so. And that’s the point. I need help in being able to mask the imperfections of my idea.”

“No, Peter. This is a dangerous game you play. Every day governments and banks are monitoring and tracking these transactions closer and more aggressively. I know you can get away with this today, but I don’t know that you can keep getting away with it next week. Every week that goes by will mean a greater and greater probability someone will notice your presence.”

Peter was destroyed, but said nothing. He had no right to expect Leonid to risk his life for what could best be described as a high tech prank.

Peter called Charlie and Eddie. “How about a reunion at Eddie’s?” Charlie balked, what with school expenses in addition to being married. Eddie said he would send the airline tickets. They agreed on meeting during Charlie’s spring break. The women were thrilled with the chance to see each other again.

Once in Freeport they all spent the first afternoon and evening gabbing about domestic things. The men went fishing the next morning, Thomas was given an unexpected day off.

Once they had the boat at the fishing spot Eddie cut the engines and let the boat drift. Radar showed no other vessels for miles. Peter had already gone over the boat with a bug detector the size of a pocket calculator and found two very old bugs powered from the boat’s electrical system. He casually tossed them into the ocean without comment.

He outlined his abilities. Charlie and Eddie just stared in awe.

Peter related that the mobs were always looking for a way to launder their money in a secure fashion. Peter had a way to accommodate them, but he needed help and he needed diversification.

Eddie said, “Look, everybody is happy. We’re all comfortable. Charlie is a bit thin at the moment but in a few years that will change and, regardless, there is still a million sitting here waiting for somebody’s kids to start college.”

Charlie looked lost. Eddie looked at Peter, realizing that Charlie never knew what happened to him and what happened to Mikel. The mantra was nobody was to ever mention it and nobody ever did. Consequently, Charlie was lost.

“Is there something I should know? What about a million and how do I fit in?”

“Do you really want to know,” Eddie asked with a cautionary tone, “or would you just be satisfied knowing there is a million dollar pie you can draw on if you want or need to.”

Charlie considered the situation for over a minute. “Well, I guess it all goes back to ‘need to know.’ If you think I need to know what this is all about then I want to know. If not, just let it ride. But the other thing is if I want to build a new house or something will you send the money and what do I tell Kira.”

“Knowing the story won’t help your life any,” Eddie replied. “As far as telling Kira, tell her it came from me. She will understand.”

That got Charlie’s attention! “So, she knows and I don’t?”

“No, I didn’t say that. I said she will understand.”

Eddie softened his tone. “Well, to tell you the truth I apologize for not advising you earlier of your, er, entitlement. Maybe you could be using it now.”

“No, that’s all right. We’re getting by.” Charlie said in resignation. He had speculated to himself about Mikel never being mentioned by anyone. Someday, somewhere along the line somebody would trip a trigger and Charlie fully appreciated the asset ignorance could be in such a situation.

Eddie got out of his chair and rescued three beers from an ice chest. Returning to his seat and propping his legs up, he asked Peter, “So, brain buddy, why bother?”

“Well, first of all there will be 15% of a million dollars each month, on average. But I am looking a little further down the road. Eventually we might pick up another account or two. With that information I should be able to end up knowing where all of this money sits.”

“I don’t understand,” said Eddie.

“I do.” said Charlie calmly. He took a swig of beer, knowing this would defuse Peter somewhat. “These guys aren’t all independent operators. Most of them are extensions of mobs that operate in Russia. A lot of the profits go directly to Russia. I think Peter is saying that eventually he will have the hammer.”

“And then?” asked Eddie.

“And then I pull out the bottom card on their house and they collapse into a heap and take each other out at worst, or at least they will be even more paranoid of each other, more suspicious than they are now,” Peter replied.

“Why not just take this to the feds and let them do it?” Eddie asked.

“They would fuck it up in an instant. Politics would get into it, egos, turf wars and anyway it would leak. The feds have rules. This whole thing has to be done before some of these people get smart and start erecting fire walls that will keep me out.”

Charlie said, “What do you think you would end up with?”

“Fifty, maybe a hundred million.”

“Holy shit! And what becomes of that? That is a big chunk to deal with.”

“I don’t know. Do whatever you want.”

Eddie flatly said, “I’m already doing what I want. I’m on a tropical island with a beautiful woman and the most work I have to do is turn the key in the boat or the cash register. I wouldn’t have to do that if I didn’t care to. Thomas does all the work. He hires his kids to do all the grunt work on the boat and in the shop. The only thing I have to do for myself is breathe when I’m diving.”

Peter was slowed, but not stopped. He hadn’t anticipated any argument, especially from Eddie. But, he conceded Eddie was right. Everybody was comfortable where they were without incurring any future risks, regardless of how much money was involved.

“All right forget the money, although it will still be available. Look, here is a chance to help out the Chechens against the Russians. How about that? You know that there are a lot of things our country could be doing except for the fact the government has all kinds of silly rules and shit.”

Charlie said, “Screw them. They aren’t going to love us in any circumstance.”

Eddie was a bit more conciliatory, “Okay, maybe I can see that. But I’m not so sure this isn’t just Peter coming up with a scheme that is desperately looking for a rationalization. What I can’t see is why you need us.”

Peter sensed the conversation was moving ahead. “Its the cash. In the US you can’t move more than ten thousand without filling out a form. So these mobs move suitcases full of cash to various off shore spots. Then they need to be able to get it back. Well, the feds are getting pretty good on tracing the flow. Hell, I’m doing it, so I am sure someone else is. But, I have a method of flying beneath the radar, so to speak, but it is just going to take some grunt work to make this fall into place.

“I need to be able to move a million or more each month out of monitored accounts into safe accounts. I need a lot of accounts or else the feds will spot the pattern. Secondly, I want to have access to a million that is in the pie for a month to take care of my float. After a month it will be back plus 15%.”

“So where do we come in?” Charlie asked

“ I need both of you to open bank accounts. I need Eddie to get some identification for us so we each have ten drivers license and social security pairs.”

“Who actually makes the deposits?”

“Pavel has to move the cash, I just provide him a very safe place to hide it.”

Eddie said, “Okay. But, only because there is a chance to flatten these guys. I don’t have any idea of what I’ll do with any of the money. I should have docs for you in three weeks.”

Charlie was still reluctant. “Seems like awfully high return for such little effort. I still think you’re fucking crazy. I also think I’m too damn identifiable with my lurch. I might as well wear neon shirts when I go to a bank. The lurch can’t be covered by a fake beard or mustache and glasses.”

Charlie gave up a little on the argument against. It was obvious Peter was married to this idea and Peter would be better off having Charlie and Eddie do the grunt work than approaching anyone else. “Whatdaya have? I can take care of a few locations in my region. Flying much of a distance at one time is out, my leg ends up real unhappy in an airline seat, unless you’re sending me first class. Don’t send a ticket for a peanut flight and expect me to take it.”

“Well, there will be a little road trip involved. New York, of course, Chicago, K.C. and Denver.”

Charlie said, “I might be able to move this one step further. How about some absolutely blind, no name accounts in a couple of sand dune countries?"

Peter stared at Charlie in disbelief. “You can do that? How the fuck you going to swing that?”

“Well, I’m sure it won’t be free, can you stand a two point hit?”

“Sure, why not. It’s not my money. Anyway, who cares? But, how are you going to manage that?”

“You seem to forget that I’m going to school. I take classes with all kinds of guys from these sand dune countries. Some of them are in the royal families. Most are just high, very high, on the food chain. I’m buds with a couple of them because they are all older then the American kids, so we have a few things in common. We have them over for dinner in ones and twos. I’m just thinking ahead of contacts that may come in handy when I go back to Iowa. They import a lot of grain and other stuff. They all drool over Kira. It won’t be much to ask for a small favor.”

Peter still was amazed, “You can do that!!??” He immediately regretted the challenge.

Charlie knew Peter’s doubt rose mostly from a thin superiority complex that occasionally appeared. Charlie also knew that it was partly from appreciation of the things that could be accomplished amongst themselves. But Charlie grabbed the opportunity for one-upmanship, as it was rare, “Yeah! I can do it, you fluckin gleek plick!”, making reference to the punch line of an old joke. Eddie had taken a swig of beer and started choking and laughing over the exchange.

Charlie continued, “I can whip your ass in chess anytime I want to, also, and you can’t figure it out! So, don’t think you’re the only fucking person in the world who can get something done. I got friends, too.”

Peter sat through the tirade and took it quietly. He knew that Charlie was only half serious but he also knew he deserved to be upbraided. Eddie continued to cough, choke and laugh. The verbal parrying was one of the hallmarks of the friendship.

Peter waited for Eddie to recover. “There is one other thing I need. I can handle all of the instructions from the house, but I can’t keep any of the data there. If anyone would ever snoop around it would be a slam dunk. I need a main frame class machine in a secure spot. Any ideas?”

Eddie said, “Could it be in Iowa?”

“Sure, it can be just about anywhere.”

Eddie turned to Charlie. “You know the folks quit farming and I’m buying the farm. Frank Lundine is going to rent the land for the next three years. After that we might let a nephew farm it if he still wants to. The small machine shed can be made secure. It has 200 amp service and is dry. Or, you could custom build something , but that will attract some curiosity seekers.”

Peter was more than interested. “That sounds good. Any problems with tax assessors or anything like that?”

“Not unless you have some garish antenna that will call attention to the building.”

“No problem there, we will use one of the Navy types, I can make it look like a lightning rod, kind of. I’ll combine it with a real lightning rod system, so no one will notice and we will have lightning protection.”

“One other thing,” Peter said, “Eddie, once the money has been shifted around I would like you to take care of it. An extra offset will be a big advantage.”

Eddie shrugged before he agreed. “There is only one stipulation. You only service Pavel. You can track anyone you please, but there is no reason to associate with any of the others. There is certainly no reason to think they could be trusted if they were pressured.”

Charlie said, “I agree. It is shaky enough with just one player. We don’t need the extra concern just for money. And that is all it would mean: money.”

Within six months everything was in place. The three men established savings accounts all over the country in a multitude of banks. Each had a small deposit.

Charlie established a handful of blind accounts in each of a half dozen sand dune countries. Money could be moved within the accounts in such a fashion that it was trackless after three transactions.

Peter and Eddie made a trip to Jefferson. They left the girls with Eddie’s parents while they installed “lightning protection” for the entire farmstead. Eddie’s father said he was surprised Eddie would put the expense into the old house. “Hell, son. Let lightning hit it! You know that house never has been worth the paint it needs. No sentimental attachments to worry about. Your mother hated it every day we lived there. Why do you think we moved to town after you kids finally left?”

Getting the radios and computers installed took little time, but making the building secure was a larger chore and it took three days of welding and reinforcing to make the existing doors strong enough to resist all but a direct assault from a vehicle to penetrate them. Curious neighborhood kids or teenage lovers looking for a secure spot to have sex were not going to “stumble on” the installation.

When Peter and Eddie left the farm the outward appearance of the metal clad building looked no different than when they started, or from the dozens of others similar to it in the immediate neighborhood. Just another pole building on a farm.

In following months Peter talked Pavel into establishing a store front business to cover his activities. Pavel bought a failing TV and small appliance store in the neighborhood. Peter took advantage of the location and took over the repair area for his work. Pavel came up with an idea for his soldiers, an engineering support shop he named Biosk. At first they were a bit put off about not being able to hang around the Volga all day, but as they watched their brethren getting chewed up by the feds over taxes, they soon came to appreciate just how clever Pavel was.

Peter went to work to keep an eye on Pavel and an ear on the neighborhood. He actually enjoyed working on some of the appliances and meeting the public. Pavel kept his prices low to encourage traffic. Soon Pavel was making a good living from the store operation, at least on paper.

Pavel had over six million dollars laying around and he told Peter one day that he was relieved to have it in a safe place. Peter smoothly moved it from the cash accounts to a numbered account in Panama. As far as Pavel knew when he transferred it to another account Peter, nor anyone else, had any idea of where it was.

But Peter knew, and appreciated that eventually the feds would catch on, also. The feds just couldn’t make the link to the cash deposits. They could make the links back through five or six other off shore accounts that Peter would float it through, but the money just seemed to magically appear there.

Chapter 19

Charlie was back in school for six months following the “reunion.” He returned from class one afternoon and Kira told him he had a phone call from an attorney in Philadelphia and he was to call back. Charlie was puzzled, but made the call. It was the Philadelphia office of Hendricks and Jennings. “We have a settlement package for you to review. I understand you have a disability, would you like your attorney to come to your house, or would you like to come to the office?”

Charlie thought about the situation. First of all, he had forgotten about the entire situation. Second, he really felt out of place at the New York office, and figured the Philadelphia office would be no less imposing. “Yes, if it isn’t too much trouble I would prefer someone stop by the apartment.” Charlie gave the address and made an appointment for later in the afternoon.

Junior Partner Lawson Hendricks IV delivered the package. “I have to apologize for this taking such a long time, Mister Stone. The defendants, FloridaFamily Developers, tried to hide their assets and when they were uncovered that made the government people more unhappy than they already were which tied up your claim. However, the wait resulted in your award being increased.

“Here is the bottom line. You get a choice of property, or properties, valued at $980,000.” The attorney produced a small, slick-page, full color booklet showing the properties. There were single family dwellings and condominium units in all of the Caribbean islands, Hawaii, Arizona and Florida. Prices were attached to each description.

“You don’t have to decide today, but keep in mind that the same offer is being made concurrently to the others in your class, so the longer you wait the more likely you are to end up with three lesser properties distributed around the globe.”

Kira leaned over Charlie’s shoulder as he thumbed through the catalog. “That one, ” she said, pointing to a modest waterfront villa in Freeport.

Charlie turned and looked up at her, but said nothing. He thought about it for several minutes. “Give the lady what she wants. See if it is still available.”

The attorney went to Charlie’s phone and made a call. After a prolonged wait following the initial enquiry he finally said, “Put a block on it for case 95611. Yes, I realize that, I’ll have to enquire about the balance. Thank you.”

“Pending confirmation you are now owners of a villa in the Bahamas. You still have $75,000 in the account.”

Charlie didn’t hesitate, “Can I put it toward fees? If so, do that.”

“No, unfortunately there isn’t any actual cash involved in this, it is all property. As I recall the only thing under $100,000 are some small, and I do mean small, condo units in Tucson. You might have to come up with some cash.”

Charlie considered the situation. “Donate it to the church.”

“Excuse me?”

“Donate it to the Salvation Army. They can swing things around.”

“I’m afraid this is non-assignable, Mister Stone.”

“I just don’t want to dink around with it at this time. No offense, but if I give this to you or another attorney to handle the details all of the money will just go into your pockets and real estate commissions. I only had $3,000 in this deal to start with. Now I have a property that is worth maybe $900,000. I’m not going to put a whole lot of expenditure into capturing another fifty grand or so. Let it slide.”

“I understand. Will you be needing any assistance with any arrangements for the property?”

“I’ll have to get back to you on that. This is unexpected, to say the least. I’ll have to consider my options, find out what the taxes and insurance and fees are going to be on this before I make any decisions.”

“I’ll be back with papers in another month or so, no more than 60 days. Can you hold on that long?”

Charlie laughed. “To be honest, I had forgotten all about it. You can do this, however, ask Mister Weinstein in New York to drop me a line. I need to say thank you.”

A couple of years went by. Charlie finished his schooling. He and Kira moved to Jefferson. Kira was pregnant with the first of what eventually would be four children, bookend girls and twin boys. Charlie spent a year apprenticing in his uncle’s bank then took over as president. He built a new house on five acres of land on the edge of town. His brother and he had a discussion about buying the folks farm so the brother could continue and the folks could retire. Charlie said he would arrange very attractive financing. Everybody chalked-up the largesse to Charlie’s vague east coast and foreign financial friends.

With Kira being a fixture on the scene, several of the local bachelors took a page from Charlie’s book, went to Brooklyn and came home with Russian brides.

As the months and years passed Pavel was getting very good at running his business and his gang. Pavel took an interest in the capitalist system of financing and learned how to make truckloads of money by stock manipulation schemes. He used his drug dealers to come up with a list of Wall Street drug users and persuaded a half dozen young men to facilitate his plans in exchange for a continuous supply of cocaine.

The taxmen came in droves. Clean as a whistle. The operations grew to two million a month. Pavel was very happy.

Drugs were the biggest headache. Skirmishes between the Colombians and the Russians were constantly occurring for control of the street traffic. On his own Pavel sent a message for a truce and possible negotiation between himself and a Colombian representative. They met in a dinky road house on the gulf coast of Texas. Pavel basically told the Colombian he had more peasants in Russia than there were in Columbia and eventually he would win by attrition. Pavel offered the cartel a small increase in the wholesale price, which would keep their profits about the same. In exchange the Colombians would stay out of his territory and there wouldn’t be any fighting.

The Colombians took the deal. They went to the other Russian gangs with the same deal, but were turned down and the bloodshed continued in most of the neighborhoods.

Peter convinced Pavel to negotiate with his cocaine cartel to take wire transfers instead of cash. It meant a greater profit for the cartel, potentially fewer arrests, and less chance of someone getting greedy and wanting the cash and the drugs. It was a hard sell, eventually the cartel said they would try it for a half dozen buys and make sure it worked out all right. The results were good and they continued.

Occasionally a bust would occur. The police were left with just one suspect to arrest since the other was just holding an identical case with just magazines and underwear inside.

Chapter 20

New Years Eve, 1997, Freeport.

The three couples spent the evening at the casino. The ladies were dressed in Barcinea’s finest. The children were under the care of Thomas’ mother as Charlie and Kira partied away. Around 9 P.M. a waiter approached Eddie at a chemin de fer table and appeared to be taking a drink order, but left without one. A few seconds later Eddie excused himself.

Eddie went into the men’s room followed by a cleaning lady who placed a ‘closed for cleaning’ sign on the door. Inside the casino security director wasted no time outlining the situation to Eddie. Eddie nodded in concern.

During the previous six years Eddie and Barcinea assimilated into the Freeport community. Their reputations as employers earned them immense respect from the locals. Eddie, on a very low financial level and in a discrete manner, helped several small businesses get off the ground. When a hurricane caused severe damage to the schools Eddie was able to advise of financing for the reconstruction for impossibly low rates. Every year Barcinea sponsored charitable activities for hospitalized children. A scholarship fund became available that was from an unknown source, except the word on the street was Eddie and Barcinea facilitated its funding. The dive shop and the dress shop each openly sponsored pan bands, from the instruments to custom designed, matching uniforms.

Now, three hours before 1998, the entire island was at his disposal, if Eddie felt it necessary. Three days earlier six members of a Russian mob came for a visit. Nothing exceptional in that; gangsters from all over vacationed there, leaving millions in the casinos. This particular group swelled to thirteen today on a no reservation basis. Questions were being asked about Eddie and Barcinea.

Eddie quickly gave some instructions. The security chief nodded. Eddie went back to the casino floor and found Barcinea. He stopped by the table where he had been playing and told the croupier to cash him in. He found the other four at a black jack table. A tall, tanned man in western style garb came up to them, “Eddie Lets do the new year in style, lets see the fireworks at Disney World. I got my jet warming up right now, we can be there in time for the start of the show.”

“Can I bring the children?” Kira asked a bit anxiously.

“Bingo” Peter thought to himself, this was going better than he planned.

“Sure thing little lady. I know they will enjoy it.”

A floor manager apparently read Eddie’s mind and appeared with a cell phone. He punched in a number. “Thomas? Eddie. Yes, happy new year. Can you drive by Charlie’s and pick up your mother and the kids and bring them to the airport? Fireworks at Disney World. Yes, it is a surprise, Mr. Burroughs from Houston is doing the favor. Yes he is very generous. Oh, Thomas, did Henry from the hotel talk to you? Fine. You know what to do then. See you at the airport and thank you.”

Everybody gathered at the airport. The older kids were all excited, the youngest was asleep in Thomas’ mother’s arms. She got aboard the plane as if she had been jet setting all of her life, when in fact she had never left the island except to fish.

The jet was ready to go and as soon as the last passenger, Charlie, was in, the co-pilot closed the door and seconds later the plane taxied into takeoff position and flew into the night. The passengers were chatting about the exciting change of plans, only Eddie was aware of the potential danger behind him.

The twins each sat in Charlie and Kira’s lap. The oldest girl, Carole Kay, chose to sit with Barcinea. Barcinea had furnished her with a beach ensemble, complete to the little sunglasses. Carole Kay was fascinated with “Aunt B” and her high fashion world. Both Aunt B and “Aunt” Katerina doted on all of the children. Despite the late hour Carole Kay was excited about the trip and the exclusive access to Aunt B.

After the fireworks they spent the night in suites at Disney World. Early the next morning Peter woke up, and after brushing his teeth and finding coffee already made he went to sit on the patio. Eddie was already there, talking on the phone, coffee in front of him. Peter turned to go back inside, but Eddie signaled him to stay. Peter sat down about the time the conversation ended.

“Glad you’re the first one out, Peter. We can get this out of the way before the others make it difficult to have a conversation. You got any action on a mob run by Gregori Pedereche?”

“That’s Vedereche” Peter replied. Eddie looked at him.

“Vedereche with a ‘V’ only its pronounced like ‘F’.”

“All right, all right. Do you know him or not?”

“I have a pretty good book on him, yeah.”

“Can you strip him?”

“I would have to look but I think I have a handle on thirty mil. I haven’t done a due diligence on him.”

“Would thirty mil get anyone’s attention up the line?”

“I suppose. What’s the story?”

“Never mind. Gregori and twelve of his closest friends have decided they don’t like Brooklyn anymore and have decided to relocate to Brazil.”

“Well, they will need some money to live on once they get there, won’t they?”

Eddie started his Oliver Hardy impression, “That’s right, Stan. And wouldn’t it be nice if some were waiting for them when they arrived? Their ship should arrive on the ninth.”

Peter nodded. Very seriously he said, “Nice touch, buddy. Getting the kids out. I wondered what was happening. I’m glad I know where your head is.”

“No problem. For what it is worth, I don’t think the Rooskies could have gotten within a block of the house, but I didn’t want there to be any mistakes. Everything is straight now.”

“Want any of the thirty?”

“Lay as much on the boys as you think you need to make the story stick. If there is any left over put it in the Arab investment group. The governor will come up with something soon, I’m sure.”

They sat in the early morning light in silence for nearly 20 minutes before the next riser appeared. It was Thomas’ mother. “Can I fix breakfast for you boys?”

“Thanks, but all we need to do is call room service, they will deliver it.”

“Okay, then. Can I call room service for you?”

Eddie smiled, “Missus McDonald, join us here on the patio for some juice and I’ll order breakfast for all of us.”

In the middle of a luxury suite she had only seen the likes of as a housekeeper, Mrs. McDonald thought the situation over for a moment and decided that, yes, she could sit and enjoy the morning with Mr. Eddie and his friend. Mr. Eddie and Barcinea were not like most of the other white people. They showed respect and friendship for everyone and never treated anyone like hired help; more like extended family. She sat, happy with the moment, as Eddie called room service with a large order.

January 3, 1998, Brooklyn New York.

The gang and drug taskforces met in a confusing meeting. The Vedereche gang left the country on short notice on the 31^st for the Bahamas, including a deep plant the police department had six years invested in. The gang didn’t return to Brooklyn. The police were having trouble getting a status out of the Bahamas. All the Freeport police would say is they couldn’t locate the parties in question. Yes, they were there New Years Eve, they had a big private party in a suite, paid their bill in full New Years day and left the hotel. The Freeport Police speculated they may be on a deep sea fishing trip and saw no reason to start any inquiries.

In Brooklyn the following day the buzz on the street was the gang had been rubbed out by disgruntled Colombian drug dealers. Two gangs quickly sensed the power vacuum and jumped for the vacated territory. By the sixth eight were dead and dozens wounded from the battle.

On the eighth the truth came out. The gang had landed in Brazil. The captain of the small freighter they had been on paid off a series of customs and immigration agents and everything looked like a break from the domination of Moscow. Each man, including the undercover agent had $500,000 on account in a Brazilian bank.

In Moscow a mob boss was in a rage over the loss of nearly 40 million US dollars from his accounts. The transfers lead directly to Brazilian banks.

On the tenth the undercover agent came to his senses enough to realize he had been shanghaied and without any thought of discretion or deception hired a cab and went directly to the US Embassy. He knew his days would be numbered.

On the twelfth, the remainder of the gang was hunted down one by one and dispatched.

All the undercover agent was able to report was that the original group made plans for a vacation. When they got to the Bahamas they called back to Vedereche that someone he was looking for was right there in Freeport. Vedereche said there was a holiday for everyone and they went to Freeport on the next plane. Vedereche rented the top of the Hilton and said to have a good time for a couple of days. New Years Eve was a big drunk and that’s the last the agent remembered before awakening on a ship, naked, with three others in a cabin. They were fed and had a toilet in the cabin. A couple of days went by and there must have been a drug in something they ate or drank, because the next thing they knew they woke up ashore. It took a while to figure out the situation, but when the agent finally had a clear head he decided the party was over and bailed out. Vedereche never mentioned the target’s name, but did mention something about somebody named Mikel.

Chapter 21

February, 1999

Retired FBI Special Agent In Charge Ben Monroe was finishing up a two mile run with his long-time lady friend, Maryellen. The weather was mild for Long Island in February, the sun was shining and there was no wind to speak of. A few orphaned snow banks lay in sheltered areas of the park, but the path was clear. Ben was a very fit man for his sixty years. It didn’t hurt any that his late thirties girlfriend was a personal fitness trainer. She claimed she kept him motivated to stay in shape.

As they rounded the last turn in the running path they saw a group, five men and a woman, waiting next to a black Chevrolet Suburban: they were shifting on their feet from chill and boredom. The men were in matching black overcoats and dark gray hats. The woman wore a black overcoat also, but it was stylishly cut and sported a generous black faux fur collar.

“Shit!” exclaimed Maryellen, her honey-sweet voice a sharp contrast to the language she used. “Don’t these guys remember you’re retired?”

Ben didn’t reply. It wasn’t the first time. It wasn’t that he absolutely refused to do a little consulting work, but he didn’t answer his cell phone and if they came to his house he didn’t answer the door. If the FBI wanted his services they could demonstrate they were serious and willing to deal with Ben on Ben’s terms.

As they came within a few feet, the eldest of the group offered a cheery greeting, “Morning Maryellen, Ben. You got time to chat for a few minutes?”

“No he doesn’t!” sneered Maryellen. “Ben has an appointment for an attempted paternity.” She kept walking past the group toward a van parked on the other side of the lot. “How, come you guys are parked in the handicap zone?” She called back over her shoulder.

Ben stopped at the group. He was breathing hard, but not as if he was gasping. Ben smiled and just shook his head, “What busted you folks out of your nest on a day like today?”

Ben had spent 20 years concentrating on busting the New York mafia. He had a photographic memory; quickly recognized faces altered by age and the elements, and could recite the pedigree of every Italian in the five boroughs.

Today Ben Monroe, retired, runner and occasional freelance consultant, was being recruited, by no less than the Assistant Director. “Whatcha got that requires the services of an old washed out agent?”

“We have a puzzle with one of the Russian gangs,” Special Agent “Howie” Howard started the narrative, handing Ben a packet of papers and photos.

“We know this group is producing over a million a month. They have a major thumb on gambling, rackets and drugs in Brooklyn. Several years ago they killed nearly every Colombian soldier in the city over who would control drugs in Brooklyn. They finally convinced the Colombians to let them have the street business and the Colombians would have to settle for the wholesale part of the business or else the war would continue.”

Maryellen showed up with a pair of warm-up pants and a substantial parka. The others looked on with envy as the chill continued to work at them. Maryellen made a face at the Assistant Director as she left. Ben pulled on the clothes while Howie continued.

Howie spent several minutes going over the basics of Pavel’s gang and attempts to track finances.

“So,” Special Agent Howard took in an obvious breath and exhaled sharply. The small cloud from his breath drifted off before disintegrating. He shuffled his shoulders in an attempt to relax the ever increasing tension in his neck. He shivered slightly from the chill. “That is the ‘where it is going’ end of the puzzle. The ‘where it is coming from’ and what they do with it is down pat. We call the group Stolovitch. That is the name of the apparent godfather. Pavel Stolovitch came to the US as a refuge in 1989 and applied for citizenship in 1996. He is naturalized. He has a small TV and appliance shop in Brighton Beach. He is married and has two small children. He is not ostentatious. He drives a new Volvo and lives in a nice neighborhood in Brooklyn. He and his wife go out to dinner twice a week. He meets with the boys at the Volga bar on Friday nights for a couple of drinks.

“His TV shop is filled with radio jamming devices. He does a sweep of the shop every morning with a bug detector. He takes the bugs he finds, carries them to the sidewalk in front of the shop, holds them up for anyone who might be watching to see, drops them on the sidewalk and grinds them beneath his heel.”

Howard turned for a cup of coffee sitting on the hood of the Suburban. He took a large swallow of the luke-warm contents. Again he shuffled his shoulders, this time giving his head a little toss, as if to pop his neck a bit. Before he could speak again Maryellen gave the horn in the van two long honks. Ben and the others ignored her. In a moment she gave another long blast. Ben turned and waved at her, but returned his attention to Howie.

“We tried using laser transmissions. He kept that one. Came out of the shop, showed it around and put it in his pocket. There is no telephone conversation that does not relate to the business.”

“His taxes are squeaky clean. His books would make any accountant cry with joy. Not so much as a penny in sales tax is missing. An attempt was made to bluff him on taxes five years ago. Aside from giving his name and address, he said nothing at any interview. He had some apparently inept lawyer by his side the entire time who could only say, “Show me the evidence”.

“We have learned as much as we have mostly from encounters with low level members of the group. Everything is very compartmentalized. The low level guys report to a lieutenant. They never have any contact with Stolovitch. There is supposedly a third level that deals directly with Stolovitch. I say supposedly, because we haven’t been able actually place anyone in a third level. Unlike some of the other city families, these guys don’t socialize, don’t have Christmas parties, don’t have summit meetings. Another group tried to muscle in three years ago. The rumor on the street is that the new group got word from Russia that they could either find another place to play or go back to Russia.

“The Stolovitch soldiers pass on the day’s efforts to one of six lieutenants and that is the last they see of anything. The six lieutenants may or may not meet up with Stolovitch on a daily basis. One lieutenant went for two weeks, collecting money everyday, before he passed it along. No one seemed upset.

“This is where we start to lose grasp of the situation. We have photographed every person coming and going from that shop for three years. We have a picture of nearly every person who lives in that neighborhood. One day, it was an old lady’s birthday. She looked to be about a hundred, but I’m sure she just had a hard life. Anyway, Stolovitch brings her out to the front of the store, points to where we are and tells her to smile and wave. Then, after she left he comes across the street and leaves a note on the windshield asking us to mail some prints to the old lady.

“We cannot put anyone else coming to the store with any kind of regularity. One exception. Some hothead was dissatisfied with a stereo he bought. He must not have heard the words he wanted to hear from Stolovitch so he picketed the store for a week then torched it one night. We were fast enough on the scene to put Agent Gutzman in with the city fire investigator.

“The store isn’t much more than one would expect, except it has a repair bench that would rival anything our labs have, as far as test equipment goes. That’s it. Questions? Comments? Suggestions? What have we overlooked?”

Howard shrugged again and drank the last of the coffee. The group was quiet except for the noises made by cooling feet shifting on the pavement.

“Does Stolovitch run the shop alone? How many employees, who are they?” Asked a male Special Agent. Ben seemed to lose interest in the chat and started looking through the papers.

“He has two full time sales people, four part-timers, a delivery man and the repair technician. Everybody is Russian except the tech. One of the salesmen has worked there for two years. The delivery is mentally handicapped but strong as an ox and has been on the payroll since day one. It was brought up during the tax investigation that hiring the delivery man qualified for some government program and therefore a tax break, but they just blew it off. Something about taking care of their own. Other employees come and go. The tech has been there since the store opened. Just took on an apprentice from a trade school. She is a daughter of one of the lieutenants.”

Another male special agent on the other side of the group dully prompted, “What do we know about the tech?”

Howard started reciting as if it were a recipe he had repeated to everyone he met. “Peter Bransford, age 35, Navy veteran, married, no children, two dogs, lives on an acreage way the hell out at the end of the line on Long Island. Works six hours a day, commutes with a motorcycle when the weather allows and a newish Saab when he doesn’t ride. He rarely takes the train. He makes house calls for residential and commercial customers. He has every radio license you can imagine, including one for a TV station. His house and backyard have a forest of antennae. He spends every night and weekend at home, they vacation in the Bahamas from the 20^th of December to the first Sunday in January, owns a multi family dwelling in Breckenridge, Colorado, where they ski, usually in late March, and go there in the summer to hike and loaf. No record of any sort, not so much as a parking ticket. Oh, yeah, he sponsors an Eagle Scout group. Ham radio, naturally. He used to coach a little league team the store sponsored. That stopped when an irate mom threatened him with a gun one Saturday morning. She was pissed when her son got pulled from the game and started yelling at him in Russian. Apparently he didn’t realize she was screaming at him since she was swearing in Russian and he ignored her which pissed her off even more. The more she screamed the hotter she got until she charged him with a gun.”

Ben Monroe looked up from the papers and idly said, “Tell me more about his Navy service.”

Howard had to consult his packet of paperwork. He finally found a file labeled Bransford, Peter. He thumbed through his file, found a sheet of paper and withdrew it and began to read. “Bransford, Peter Lawrence, enlisted Des Moines, Iowa, July 18, 1981, basic training, ET class ‘A’ school, ET class ‘C’ school, February 1984 assigned to ComSubLant, Honorable Discharge June 6, 1990. Final rank E-6, Submarine Qualified, recommended for re-enlistment.”

Ben Monroe asked, “How did you obtain that information?”

“Standard inter-agency request,” came the reply.

“That document you’re reading from, is it a DD-214”

“Yes.”

“That was enough to satisfy you?”

“Well, yes. I asked for information and this is what was delivered. The guy served and had an honorable discharge. There are no entries of any disciplinary problems and he had a security clearance. Apple pie and baseball.”

“You weren’t in the service, were you, Howie?”

“No, they scuttled the draft before I was old enough and I chose law school over boot camp.”

“Okay”

Ben Monroe reached into a parka pocket and produced a small note pad and a ball point pen with a hotel logo imprinted on the side. Ben played with a pen for a few moments before making a few notes on a pad.

Another special agent asked, “How does he afford a multi family dwelling in Breckenridge?”

“The records indicate it was part of an estate. We casually interviewed a cousin last year. An uncle bought five acres of land just outside Breckenridge after World War II because he thought it would be a nice place to retire to. It cost him next to nothing. The uncle was a bachelor and Peter was his favorite nephew. The uncle was killed in a railway accident when Peter was five years old. Another uncle financed the building for Peter and managed the property until Peter got out of the Navy. Peter’s extended family uses it at different times of the year. In 1993 a second building was added. This is a luxury four unit chalet that is leased to a Saudi outfit that rents only to Arabs. The proceeds go to an educational trust for Peter’s cousins and their families.”

Another agent woke up. “But, aren’t we talking several million bucks in property value here? This guy commutes to Brooklyn everyday and he is sitting on a million dollar property? Doesn’t that get your attention?”

“So the guy is a flake. Who knows? Hell, this isn’t anywhere near abnormal as the crooked bond traders were. That one guy lived like a hermit and had nearly a billion dollars in his accounts. He didn’t even go to Coney Island, let alone the Bahamas Islands. No, I don’t see any big disconnect here. Hey, look at Roger Lemley in our office. The guy inherited so much stock it had to be spread around six brokerages. He comes to work every day and mixes it up with the scumbags of the world the same as everybody else.”

A quick voice said. “Yeah, and he is nuts!”

An older man interjected, “All right, people, let’s not let this go too far. It is obvious that Howard has covered the financial angles of this case thoroughly. Howie, this should be enough to get Ben on board; and my feet are getting cold.”

Howie nodded and quickly handed out a photograph. “I might as well show this picture so you won’t think I’m holding out on you. This is Bransford’s 33 year old wife, Katerina.” He passed around a candid photo of a slender lady in a slinky evening dress. The photo was greeted with a variety of terms of appreciation, including one from the female in the group, "“God, I should look that good today. I never looked that good.”

“What about her, other than she is attractive?” Asked an agent

“On the face of it she is a Russian immigrant, naturalized. We tried for some details and got a call out of the blue from State politely asking us not to stir any standing waters. They said that they would vouch for her and that is all we needed to know. Contact the Secretary if there was any future needs.

“Unofficially I was able to glean from a contact at State that the father had been an operative of ours in East Germany and might have been sacrificed, but in any event is dead. The family made its way to the US and was aided by an off-the-books type of widows and orphans plan. Her life today is quiet. She does not work outside the home. The house is immaculate. She maintains a flower garden. She is active in a few charities and grassroots politics on the island, but the book on her is she doesn’t hob knob with the socialites.”

Ignoring anything as helpful as a segue, the woman spoke up. “I guess the trick is how does the physical cash get to the next point along the way without leaving any tracks?

Howard answered. “We put some marked bills into circulation into Stolovitch’s neighborhood. We notified the Federal Reserve to monitor for them and gave them the equipment needed to scan for the bills at the Federal Reserve Banks from Boston to Richmond. As it happened, the KC office was working on a similar problem. One bill turned up in Minneapolis, another couple in KC, four months later. None of them turned up on the east coast.

“Let me go back to this technician,” a special agent said, “I find it very curious that a guy from the mid-west settles down in New York, particularly Brooklyn, without a corporate assignment. Of course, maybe he isn’t actually from the mid-west, he could have just enlisted there, that happens occasionally. Any chance there is a family connection, you know brother-in-law, something like that? Where I’m coming from is this: this outfit is obviously more sophisticated than the normal bunch of street thugs. They have thought about avoiding the common mistakes, they have given some thought about trying to keep us off the track. Could it be that Stolovitch is a front and someone else is the real brains? You said that your money ended up in the mid-west. Maybe the connection is there and not even in New York.”

Howard nodded. “There is no denying this group has a degree of discipline and organization way beyond our usual bums. But, there is no perfect crime, and like you say, someplace along the way money has to physically enter a bank. After that it just becomes electronic transactions that can later be converted into cash someplace else. That is why I asked for this meeting. I’m stumped."

“What about all of the radios?” The female attendee asked. “Couldn’t they be used for EFT?”

“Yes they could be used for that. In fact, hold on here for a second.” He shuffled through some photos and came up with the one he wanted. “We sent a team out to monitor his traffic. I won’t bore you with the envy filling the report. The bottom line is that while they came up with nothing during a month of surveillance, they also said that this antenna,” He paused while finding it on the picture, “this little booger right here might be used for satellite communications. I don’t understand all the technical details they listed, but it comes down to he could be transmitting something and they would never know it because of the antenna design.

“They did copy a lot of traffic, nearly all of it in hand generated Morse code. Transcripts are available, but it is all chatter. He also sent out a couple of burst transmissions on Navy frequencies. Turns out they were all non coded and just items of interest to somebody out there; high school sports stories from Ohio, a couple of birth announcements and a report that the bluefish were running off Cape Henry.”

The Assistant Director sensed a lull indicating the meeting was at its productive conclusion. “Thank you. Anyone who has any leads, ideas or relevant hallucinations keep Howard posted.”

The Assistant Director gathered in Ben and Special Agent Howard. The remaining agents took the cue and sought the warmth of the Suburban.

“I used to work with Ben Monroe, Howie.” The Assistant Director said. “He was a submariner before he joined the Bureau. We were working a stakeout one particularly gloomy weekend and I asked him what those guys did for entertainment during ten weeks submerged. Half the time he had me rolling on the floor laughing, other times he had me mesmerized.”

Ben interrupted, “These guys, many of whom are geniuses, IQ-wise, spend a lot of their time planning and executing exquisite practical jokes on everyone from the captain to the mess cooks. Other times they create fantasy espionage situations and nit pick the hell out the plans until they either realize the goal was unobtainable or they figured they had a solution.

“They are tighter than my mother’s girdle. They have unbelievable discipline and training. Virtually nobody knows anything about these guys, what they do or what their potential is. This situation just reminds me of the type of thing I can see them coming up with.”

The Assistant Director said “I talked this over with your Supervisor earlier in the week. If you don’t mind, I think Ben might be able to bring in a fresh approach. You keep the file, he just tracks down this one avenue.”

Howie thought for a minute and shrugged. “I’m at impasse here. I’ll take any help I can get, but I’m wondering what you think you can learn that I haven’t covered.”

Ben said, “I want this guy’s complete service jacket, not just a DD-214. This guy spent about nine years in the service. He gave it up half way to retirement. Also, nine years and just one duty assignment. That is very unusual, but I know how it could happen. I think this guy might have been a spook and a bubblehead.”

“Excuse me? A what?” Howie asked.

Ben smiled, “A spook and a bubblehead. Certain submarines carry non-crew intelligence specialists: spooks. Some of these guys visited frequently enough to earn their dolphins, indicating they were qualified in submarines. Anybody who serves on a submarine is called a bubblehead by non-submariners.”

Ben paused for a moment, then offered, “I don’t know where this will lead, if anywhere at all. Let’s get his complete service record and see if there is any joy there. If my suspicions are confirmed we can discuss where we want to go next. I’ll come on for a few days.”

Chapter 22

Getting the records was more of a chore than the FBI agents realized. A field agent in St. Louis had to drive to the Records Center, fill out a form and was only allowed access with the understanding he would remain in sight of a supervisor. After viewing the records he asked for a copy. The supervisor returned with copies and a black felt tipped marker. The supervisor methodically went through a dozen sheets of paper and redacted certain entries.

“Hey....” exclaimed the agent.

“Hey, yourself,” replied the supervisor, “You do the same thing when we ask for information. Only in our case it happens to involve actual security concerns. This ain’t cheap gossip.”

The agent remained quiet, a bit chagrinned but quiet, while the supervisor finished his work

In the New York office Agent Howard fumed over some of the paperwork that was copies of multi generation photocopied forms, and were near illegible. The originals weren’t that clear to start with in some cases, either. Agent Howard angrily grabbed the pile of papers and shook his head.

“Great. Who do they think we are; the enemy? Look at all of this, the very information we want and it is blacked out. Now what do you suggest, Ben?”

“Don’t panic. I thought this might happen, and it just confirms what I thought. Look, I don’t expect you non veterans to catch stuff like this, but The anomaly here is this guy has ‘SS’ after his rate, which means he is submarine qualified. That never goes away, regardless of where he goes or what he does. His public record indicates he was just assigned to an administrative or some other shore assignment. Well a guy doesn’t get his dolphins as a gift or accommodation under any circumstance. He had to be at sea enough to go through the process.”

Ben and Howie each had a pile of papers. Ben cautioned, “Keep these in order, or it may take a lot of time to figure this out. Here is a DD-214 on top. You have that already so just put it on the table face down.

“Hold on. Here is a little piece of information. His address of record is Apollo, Pa. So he isn’t a Midwest boy after all. Where the hell is Apollo anyway?” The rhetorical question died in silence.

“Okay, this next piece is a reverse chronology of activities, schools, advancements in rank, special awards, things like that. Notice on July 17, 1989 he was awarded his second good conduct medal. He was in eight years at that time and that is an entry any sailor would have, so they left it alone.

“Look on the next page at the top and you will see that he was advanced to E-6 in 1985. This is also something that could happen to a regular sailor. Now, notice that he went to a school for some piece of gear, probably a radio of some kind, in 1987. Now notice that between these two entries are four entries that are excised. Even the first word, which is usually advanced, awarded, or transferred, is blanked out. Another choice could be “lowered,” as in lowered in rank due to disciplinary action, but that isn’t a choice since he was awarded the good conduct medal.

“Now, what we are going to find is there will not be the same number of orders that are blacked out as there are entries here that are blacked out, because these are awards that he was given while supposedly serving on a shore duty assignment where he shouldn’t have much chance to become a hero. These are probably all Unit Citations, there might be an extra one or two for Navy Achievement Medal if he was one of the really genius guys.

Ben leaned back from the table. “You know, I served with this one guy who thought up circuits he needed, drew them on quadrille paper, did the circuit calculations mostly in his head and then would build them. He had a box packed full of transistors and capacitors and stuff so he could build the circuits he needed as he encountered the need.

“Oh, sorry, I digress. Back to this guy.

“So, what do we have next? These are standard order forms. You get them when you’re transferred, go on leave, go to school. See, the top one is he gets transferred from SubLant to the separations center for discharge. Skip back one, two pages and see he went on three weeks leave, skip back two more and he went on leave again, next page back he went to a school for two weeks and so on.

“You see that the normal everyday sailor stuff is left alone. The fact that they excised these others really is just BS, because aside from a date this set of orders probably says, ‘report to commanding officer, USS Confidential for temporary assignment of duty to return to ComSubLant on completion of duties.’”

“So, even if these things were not excised, the orders would still not tell you which boat he went to. All these orders do, at least for me, is confirm in my mind this guy was probably elint rather than a language specialist.”

“What does that mean in English?”

“Oh, sorry. Strange how you can slip back into the jargon so fast. Basically there are two kinds of spooks. The first is an electronics intelligence operator, or e-lint. The elint guys record and analyze all of the different radio spectrum signals. They can tell from the signal signatures which radio or radar set they are picking up. They darn near can tell who is maintaining the radar.

“The communications guys listen in to all of the voice communications between ships, airplanes and anything else. These are guys who know the Russian language, or whatever other language might be of interest. These boys are also trained radio equipment operators and their rating is usually CT, or Communications Technician versus our friend here who is an ET or Electronics Technician.”

“In my mind,” Howie speculated, “there are some strange things here. Why does this guy drop out of the service when he is halfway to retirement? Next, if this guy is so damned smart, why does he run a repair bench at an appliance store in Brooklyn? But I guess those questions are irrelevant, I mean, those are facts and the why is probably neither here nor there”.

Ben replied, “Just so you don’t waste any time on it, he gets out with nine for the following reasons. He joined just before he was 18 on a minority enlistment which would discharge him the day before his 21^st birthday. After joining he is offered “C” school, but has to commit to a six year enlistment. After getting out of school he extends for another year to get proficiency pay, a kick of another $150 bucks a month. On his 21^st birthday he has been in three years and change and needs to re-enlist to clear up all of the extensions, but instead of re-enlisting for four years, he re-enlists for six years in order to get a $15,000 re-enlistment bonus. What the hell. He is single, he enjoys the Navy, it is treating him all right and he probably plans on staying forever.”

“But he didn’t!” was the counter.

“Hey. You go sit in a sewer pipe for six years. Even a clean one. You might change your mind when the time comes to re-enlist. I gave it up and I was an officer on the fast track to command and glory. When did he get married? Maybe he met that chick along the way and she wouldn’t stand for him being gone.”

“Yeah, if her picture is anywhere near accurate, she would be worth bailing out for.”

“Well, there you are.”

The challenges to logic stopped for the moment.

Ben said, “Maybe what is relevant is which ships he was on so we can figure out who he served with and maybe get lucky and find a connection. If we can get inside this guys brain we might be able to find out if he is a player or not.”

“And the boss will pay for this?”

“Sure. Up to a point, that is.”

“And we would get?”

“A profile, hopefully that would be minimum. Maybe we can tie him to the gang.”

Howie shrugged. “As long as the boss says ok, go ahead. You won’t hurt my feelings any. I think you’re wasting your time. It all seems very improbable to me.”

Chapter 23

Ben Monroe sat across from Admiral Rege Adams. Ben had shared a stateroom with Rege on Hammerhead. After rehashing old times and getting caught up on the domestic scene Ben got down to business. “I’m trying to get the low down on a former spook named Peter Bransford. This is all I have on him at the time.” Ben handed over the folder with the redacted information.

“What I’m really interested in is who sat next to him, who his running mates were, who may have some insight into this guy.”

“I know who you’re talking about, but only since he has been a civilian. I guess the first place would be to start with “Pappy” Douglas. He was a second class on the Hammerhead with us, he’s now a Commander. He’s been in for thirty plus and knows just about every spook who came or went. He’s the head of the shop now.”

Rege punched a button on the intercom and told the voice at the other end to get Commander Douglas on the phone.

A few minutes passed and the intercom buzzed and notified the Admiral that Commander Douglas was on the line. The conclusion of the conversation was for them to meet for lunch at the Officer’s Club in a half hour.

Rege offered to Ben, “He’s in the lab with some of his guys. Still a hands-on resource. These new kids come through and think they are hot. Pappy makes sure they are hot when he is finished with them.

After giving the waiter his lunch order Pappy said, “Peter Bransford? Hell yes! Fine man.” For being in charge of covert operations, Pappy had an effusive personality. “Sonofabitch is smart, I’ll tell you that much. What’s the beef? Taxes? Not reporting all of that money he’s making on Navy contracts? Nah, he don’t need to do that. Money don’t mean shit to him anyway. Never did. But, you might want to get next to him. You do any skiing? What was it now eight, nine years ago, he invited me and the whole crew to visit his shack, as he calls it, out in Colorado.

“Nice place. Not real fancy, but considering its location, I was impressed. Met his wife. God, what a classy lady she is. How in the world he ever got hooked up with her defies logic. You know, he would go on liberty and could never catch a date. He would go to the clubs in New London that have a reputation for easy women and still not score! I swear he was a virgin all the time I knew him. Then, he comes off a patrol, goes on leave and comes back with bag of snapshots of this honey. Didn’t have any naked ones, which I’m glad to say since she is such a nice gal, but some of the shots she was only wearing a man’s shirt in somebody’s kitchen, so you know he had to be getting some.”

Ben interrupted. “About these snaps, was he in any of them with her. Anybody else in them?”

“Well, you got me there. Yeah, there were a couple of her on his lap, so I guess someone else took those. I remember those. Never seen a man smiling so hard in all my life.” He trailed off wistfully.

“Anyone else? You know, a group at the Statute of Liberty or anything like that?”

“Well, that was about 8 or 10 years ago. And I have to confess, there could have been a picture of just about anybody in there and I wouldn’t have seen anyone except her. She’s enough to make you want to give up sheep!”

They all laughed. “Maybe some of the guys at the shop can help you, sometimes these legends live on.”

“You said something about Navy contracts.”

“Oh, sure. He does, I guess I should say did, a couple of specialty items for us every year. Bids at a fixed price. A fixed price, mind you. And he delivers ahead of schedule every time. The Navy investigated him two years ago and wanted to prosecute him for fraud because of a piece he delivered apparently didn’t meet the specs of the contract, when in fact it exceeded the specs. Ain’t that the case Rege?”

Rege turned red. “Had to bring that up, didn’t you? God, did the pencil pushers trap me on that one. The god damned bean counters don’t know anything about anything. The big contractors screw the taxpayers out of billions. Here is a small time contractor working on a fixed price basis that beats the hell out of anything the big boys can do and they tried to crucify him.

“Goddamned idiots! Just about blew half our equipment suppliers out of the water. They started getting pushy so Bransford hires this kid lawyer right out of Columbia Law School, the ink was still wet on his bar certificate, and he says, ‘File your charges right now and we will discuss it at trial. Otherwise go home and leave my client alone.’ Well, these guys call in the justice department, one of your compadres. He decides he wants to prove to the world he is God’s gift to electronics. Word is he insulted Bransford and from then on it became a war of egos.

“This guy Bransford won’t say a word to anyone. He just says, see you at trial. Word finally gets to me that they are hassling one of my contractors. Now, this is via scuttlebutt, not from Bransford. He ain’t a whiner. It dawned on me this guy could end up not only making the Navy look like monkeys, causing our other small contractors to quit, but could basically end up forcing the Navy to reveal details about all of its secret equipment in open court.

“I finally got through to CNO and he worked it down through Justice and the Navy so it finally went away, but not until after his snotty-nose, kid lawyer collected a standardized rate for his services which is more than he will see for another ten years.

“Having said that, I have to admit I don’t know Bransford.”

On the way over to the shop with Pappy, Ben asked, “Tell me about these contracts.”

“Well, just for arguments sake, let’s say that we want to be able to monitor radio traffic being transmitted at a certain frequency. But we don’t want to just monitor the chatter, we are really interested in the actual signal the transmitter is emitting. Now, the more detail we can get, the more we know about who is talking and the equipment they use. I’m sure you’re familiar with the basics.”

Ben nodded.

“Two things. We are constantly pushing the envelope. New objects of interest come on line, also. In any event, we try to solve the problems in our shop, or some of the guys come up with improvements at sea, you know how that goes, I’m sure.

“It’s simple. Some things need another brain working on it, someone who is thinking with a different angle. And another thing, Bransford is smart. He knows that it is hard for us to reconfigure an antenna, but easy to patch in a circuit. So he often gives us three solutions. A circuit, an antenna, or both. We take our pick.”

They entered the lab. Pappy gathered up his men and asked if anyone remembered Bransford. A couple raised their hands. He had them go to his office. Pappy introduced everyone. He told them Ben was a former officer on the Hammerhead and was now FBI , doing an independent investigation.

The first thing that came up was ‘what did Bransford do this time?’, alluding to the contract flap. Ben replied that all he could say was Bransford was on the periphery of an investigation involving someone else and his anomalous circumstances had drawn attention to him. Then he added with a note of humor, “The bottom line is this. An FBI agent sees somebody who has a beautiful wife remotely tied to a case, they can’t stand it. The agent wants to put the suspect away so he can make a run on the suspect’s old lady.” The sailors laughed.

“Men,” Ben continued, “this is where I’m at. Did any of you sail with Bransford? Did you work with him in the shop? Did he mention anything about who he was hanging around with? Anything like that? Did any of you see any of the pictures of his girlfriend, who later became his wife?”

A Chief Petty Officer held up his hand. “I worked with him here the last year he was in. He already knew this girl when I reported. He didn’t talk about her much, you know, he didn’t brag about how much he was getting or anything like that. My wife and I got to go to Colorado with the guys in the shop. My wife and Parson’s wife were the only wives in the shop at that time. They all got along famously. Real nice lady. You ought to see her in ski pants!”

The other sailor took the cue. “I was here just before he got out. Only a week or so before he went on a spec-op. He came back and got out, then got married.”

“Either of you see any snapshots of his wife?”

“Snapshots? No offence, sir, but you gotta be kidding. She was a model. He had 8 x10 color prints of her in all kinds of dresses. He also had a group of swimsuit pictures, but to tell you the truth, she looked just as sexy in a dress.”

“I never saw any snapshots, everything I saw was done by a professional photographer.”

“Let me ask you this, who were his close buddies? Who might have double dated with him?”

One sailor looked at the other. The first one finally spoke. “Wasn’t any of us in the shop, I can guarantee that. He never mentioned double dating, as I recall. But, I wasn’t that close, either. All I remember was the scuttlebutt in the shop was that nobody could believe that a guy who didn’t have a history of being a chic magnet could end up with her.

“Wait! It just occurred to me. Frank! What was his name? Come on Pappy, what was Frank’s last name. Jacoby, that’s it. You talk to Frank Jacoby. Works for RCA in the antenna group in New Jersey. Frank and Peter were on the same rotation and were on at least a half dozen deployments together. You sit in that fucking ECM shack with somebody for 60 days, you get to know everything about them.”

With the interviews over Ben made a phone call to order whatever files were available on Frank Jacoby. He headed back to New York, thinking about how to go about using the skills set Bransford might have to launder money or head up a mob.

In the office Ben found material on Frank Jacoby was nearly non-existent. He had a DOD Top Secret Clearance and had worked for RCA since he left the Navy. After reviewing the files he doubted Jacoby was the person he was looking for, but he would have to make the trip in any event.

At Frank Jacoby’s office Ben briefly outlined what he was after, without mentioning anything about money laundering.

“You cleared for this?” Frank Jacoby looked skeptically at Ben. “You’ve been through all of this haven’t you? Without going into details, we deployed on a boat and our services, er, our services weren’t needed. Reasons are irrelevant.

“Bransford knew this guy Stone from boot camp. Stone helped us with the nukey poo stuff for ships quals. We both qualified on that run. Well, it turns out Stone is Ukrainian and Peter helps him learn Russian.”

Ben interrupted him. “Excuse me. Russian? Bransford was ET, right?”

“Right, but he swung both ways, as we say in the trade. He was an ET because he already was fluent in Russian and didn’t need the language school. Plus, he was so fucking smart he told the Navy if they didn’t give him ET school he would never be able to understand another word of Russian. And, we had CT’s who were damned good elints, too. Marty McGuire could read a trace like nobody else in the fleet, and he understood circuits as well as Bransford.”

Ben got him back on track. “So Stone and Bransford spend the patrol getting you guys qualified. Anything else.”

“Bridge and chess, of course. It was so funny. I mean, it’s not as if this Stone guy is a lump of coal or anything. Those nukes are a pretty smart bunch, even the mechanics. But Bransford is at a completely different level. He teaches Stone how to play chess. After a couple of weeks, Stone beats Bransford. Well, Peter about went crazy. He couldn’t believe anybody on the boat could beat him at chess, let alone Stone. Stone claimed he was cheating, but Bransford wouldn’t buy it. Stone really did cheat. He found a book on chess in the ship’s library and it mentioned a nefarious move this guy made one time and Stone practiced and practiced it until he got good at it. Never did tell Bransford.

“Did you ever see any snapshots of Bransford’s wife?”

“Pictures? Hell, I see her in person. Me and Peter go fishing two or three times during the summer. I dump my wife and kids off with his wife and we chase fish all day.

“Well, I really mean did you ever see any snapshots of her? While you were in the Navy.”

“I remember he had a bag of professional shots of her. Can’t recall any snapshots.”

“While you were on these various assignments, you guys talk much?”

Frank looked at his questioner for a moment in disbelief. “Are you sure you were in the Navy? What the hell do you mean did we talk? Spend six hours at a time in that ECM shack with maybe an hour, total, of antenna time, of course we talked.”

“So, what was his philosophy in life, if he had one?”

“He was very philosophical about what we were doing. He pitied the Russians, working so hard to get ahead when they kept falling farther behind.”

“Was he sympathetic to the Russians?”

“No, no. Not at all. His outlook was to have respect for everyone. He said the propaganda of demonizing the Reds interfered with respecting them for who they are and thereby finding out what their capabilities are. No, he was no sympathizer. He was just very pragmatic about his approach to the situation. There was a job to do, he volunteered to do it, he would do it without emotion. He didn’t need to hate them just to spy on them.

“Didn’t you learn that? Didn’t you respect the guys in the other boat for enduring the same miseries you were? They are just poor schmucks the same as we were, just wore different uniforms, that’s all.”

Frank stopped for a second. “That’s what we talked about. There is a legendary shore radar set near Murmansk. Anyone who ever went there knows the one I am talking about. You know the one?”

Ben nodded with a slight smile forming.

“We wondered if the guy who kept that one radar set so immaculately tuned got any recognition. We talked about how boring a trip was when we didn’t end up working.

“We didn’t talk much about women since Peter couldn’t hold up his end of the conversation unless you wanted a recitation of all the women that stiff armed him and turned him down. It bothered him that he couldn’t find a reasonable woman to spend any time with him. He was funny about it, though.

“Stable, but not reclusive. He has always been outgoing. I think the fact that he is so smart scares off a lot of people. He doesn’t think the way the masses think, but he doesn’t lord it over anyone. He accepts that not everyone shares his intelligence or experience and he will gladly work with anyone who wants his help.

“You should see how he works with his Explorer Scouts. I occasionally lend a hand when he needs an extra instructor. He encourages and works with the guys who are stumbling and keeps the heat on the guys that are hot shots.

“The only thing he could be an ass hole about was chess and bridge. He didn’t tolerate amateurs in either game. He was intense about other things, but he always kept things in perspective.”

“Do you have any idea how he met his wife?”

“While we were transiting back to Norfolk Bransford came up with this scheme to meet women. Actually, it wasn’t his original idea, he stole it from another guy we used to work with, and the scenario has been a legend in the shop since the fifties, according to Pappy. He floated it past me, but I already had a girl friend, so I turned him down. Then he approached Stone with the idea. I think Stone was probably in the same situation Bransford was, as far as women were concerned.

“They still stay in contact. We invited Peter and Katerina to the house for a Christmas party a few years ago but he said he was going to Stone’s for the holidays.”

“What kind of plans or dreams did Bransford talk about. You know, for when he got out of the Navy.”

“Before he met Katerina he was going to stay in the Navy forever. We had a lot of autonomy and the challenges were sure there. We had contact with guys who got out and stayed in the field, like I’m doing now.”

“How about money? Did he seem to want to become rich or hanker after fancy cars, you know, stuff like that?”

“Nah, I don’t think money means anything to him. He is the only guy I ever met in the Navy who actually had a savings account. Cars and stuff didn’t really interest him. He lives within his means, that’s for sure. His only weakness is radio. But that doesn’t cost him much. He built most of the stuff he has and bought the remainder second hand. Even the stuff he builds doesn’t cost him anything. Because of his contract work he gets all of the latest experimental components without asking. It is worth a lot of money for Motorola or Raytheon or GE to have even a few components speced out in that equipment. They overnight Fed-Ex things to him the moment it is built. A lot of it doesn’t even have model numbers assigned, just arrives with a spec sheet. He has things in his surplus bins that you won’t see on the street for another year.

“He has a nice boat. 28 foot Boston Whaler. Even that he got cheap. It blew off a transport and got banged up. He got wind of it through a friend and ended up with it. I think the engines cost more than the boat did.”

“When the time came to re-enlist did he discuss the change of heart with you at all?”

“No. In fact I was on assignment during most of his last couple of months. The story going around the shop was when it came time for Pappy to give him the re-enlistment spiel all Peter did was smile. Peter held up a picture of Katerina and said with that to wake up to every morning he doubted there was anything the Navy could offer that would be a better choice.”

Ben sat silent for a moment. “So, you came off that patrol, what happened?”

“I went on leave for a month, got married, came back, hung around another eight weeks before we, ahh, had work to do. I better stop there. Peter got out and he got married. I got out a year later.”

“Got any idea where Charlie Stone was from?”

“Jefferson, Iowa. Every couple of years my brothers and I go there for pheasant hunting. Charlie’s the banker there. He doesn’t have any problem getting access to land anywhere in four counties. We stay with an elderly couple at their farm. The old man gives us the keys to his pickup. I fixed him up with satellite TV. We throw a couple of hundred bucks at them for room and board. It’s a nice hunt and the people are very nice.”

Ben flew to Iowa with an optimistic spirit. Charlie greeted Ben at his office door. “Come in. What’s happening today? Indian Casinos? The boys from Des Moines have been here several times on that, I think they have everything I have. It isn’t Gerald Ferguson again is it? I can’t believe he would be stupid enough to scam the government twice.” Charlie knew why Ben was there. Frank tipped Peter and Charlie before Ben had cleared the building.

“No, I’m here about Peter Bransford. You’re acquainted with him?” Ben was very formal. He felt he was finally getting close to the situation and he didn’t need to be particularly chummy with this farmer cum banker.

“Of course. We were in the Navy together. You didn’t come all the way here for that did you? You could have made a phone call.”

“Where did you serve together?”

“I met him in boot camp. Ooops. Almost caught me in a lie there. We both enlisted in Des Moines, although we didn’t actually get to know each other, but technically we were sworn in together, so that is the first place you could associate us. After boot camp we were at different schools at the Naval Training Center, but we saw each other occasionally at the EM club or something like that.”

“Any other times?”

“Are you FBI? Let me see that ID again.”

Ben produced his credentials and badge wallet.

“All right. Well, if you talk to any of the field guys in this region, they’re in here all the time because of the casino, they’ll tell you I’m always forthcoming. So, I don’t want you to think I’m the type to hold back.

“But, in this case you have asked me to tell you the classified activities of someone else. I’m not sure I’m at liberty to discuss where Mr. Bransford may or may not have been stationed. You have researched my file, yes? Well then you may have noticed I was in the submarine service. Our movements were classified. I believe you will find that Mr. Bransford’s movements were also classified. See, I am in a kind of bind here. Why don’t you contact the Navy, directly. They can answer all of your questions as to where Mr. Bransford served.”

Ben answered, a bit put off by the challenge. “I understand. I was an officer in the submarine service. I was on the Hammerhead from 73-77.”

The room was silent for a minute.

“So, did you sail with Bransford or not?” Ben asked.

“Look, you already have that information. But, as a former officer you should know I can’t confirm or deny whether or not he was ever on a boat with me. Anything else you want to know?”

Ben caught a glimpse of the family photos on Charlie’s desk. Charlie was in a suit, Kira was in an up scale off the rack dress, the children were all in miniature suits and dresses, fresh scrubbed and hair all in place.

“Handsome family,” Ben nodded to the pictures. “I was just thinking of the irony of it. Small town family and your kids are in suits and dresses for your family portrait.”

“Well, this is a County Fair Special, if you look close you will see we are all just sticking our heads through holes in a painted board.” Charlie said real seriously.

Ben took the bait and stood to look closely at the picture. When he realized he had been taken in he looked at Charlie, who drolly said, “Probably got fished in a lot when you were on the boat, I bet.”

Ben looked back. He sensed that he may have made a mistake with his attitude. He tried to recover. “I suffered my share. If you don’t mind my saying so, you have a very attractive wife. The only thing I’m finding in this inquiry is everybody has an attractive wife.”

Ben reviewed the other pictures on the shelf, including one of the wedding party.

“Well, thank you. I’ll pass on your compliment.” Charlie answered matter-of- factly. “Just what is this all about? Perhaps I can help you if you ask a different question. I don’t know what you could be after, and I don’t want to recite my entire life story.”

“All I can say is this. While we were conducting an investigation, Mr. Bransford appeared on the periphery. Mr. Branford’s activities struck one of the investigators as anomalous. That is what we look for, anomalies, such as kids in suits and dresses in a photograph, and nukes who suddenly end up owning a country bank.”

“Well, Mr. Monroe, I think your provincialism is showing. Every family portrait in this town has the kids dressed like this. This is Sunday best, and this is how the kids go to church on Sunday. We aren’t city folks here, we don’t go to church in cutoffs and tank tops and our kids don’t dye their hair purple.

“As far as the bank goes it wasn’t sudden. I studied finance at Penn. As far as getting a bank, that was pure nepotism. My uncle owned the bank and sold it to me on favorable terms. He has five others. When he is ready to retire I’ll probably buy the rest of them. So, maybe your anomalies aren’t anomalies at all, just one person’s prejudices about how other people ought to be living.

“Now, as to your problem. Let me say this. I’ve known Peter Bransford since boot camp. Beyond that, as far as assignments are concerned you know you will have to get that from him or official sources. You probably also know that we vacation together in the winter. When my kids are a bit older we will probably use his shack in Breckinridge. My wife and Peter’s wife are the best of friends. Now, I don’t know what else you would like to know, or if you think that by asking you might spill your precious beans.”

Still standing at the shelf, Ben asked, “Who are the others in the wedding party?”

“Kira and Katrina and Barcinea. Katerina is married to Peter, and Barcinea is married to Eddie.”

“And what is your tie to Eddie?”

“Eddie is from Jefferson. We grew up together. He met Kira and asked if I could fix him up. It worked out.”

Ben thought for a few minutes. He dragged out a pipe and filled it absently. Then realized what was happening. “Mind if I smoke?”

“Go ahead. It’s my building and no one will dare bitch.” He said blithely.

Ben tried to regroup. “Its ironic. I told a few sea stories to some agents on a stakeout years ago. Things like the pranks guys pulled and some of my experiences. The agents were impressed. When Bransford appeared on the periphery of this case one of them called me in sensing that there might be something beyond surface appearances. So far everything is squeaky clean. The highlight is his wife. After that, everything is relatively straight except the fact that he works as a tech in a TV store that is owned by a gangster.”

“That’s it? He has a pretty wife and he works as a tech in a store owned by a gangster? What is this? You guys are out for revenge, aren’t you? You tried to Shanghai him and you got caught. He was doing real well before you and the Navy tried to screw him. Of course he works for a gangster in Brooklyn. Everybody in New York works for a gangster. The mobs run everything there. Pretty damned convenient for you isn’t it?”

Charlie leaned across his desk as he continued, “Since you’re a former comrade in arms I’ll give you a break that you otherwise wouldn’t deserve. You better think this through very carefully before you do anything beyond talking to old shipmates. I think you need to go through the contracts case and see who intervened. See if you recognize any names. Names with ‘Senator’ or ‘Representative’ in front of them. See who has kids that spend their spring break skiing in Colorado. Not that that would have any influence on a situation where Peter was involved with anything illegal.

“Just in case you don’t believe me, let me show you two pictures.” Charlie shuffled over to a book case and brought back a leather bound album. He flipped through the pages then set the album in front of Ben as he sat again. “Do you recognize this?”

Ben studied the picture for a minute, recognized the general scene and slowly started to feel that he was, indeed, close to being in a bad spot. “It’s an awards ceremony. I can’t really tell what the award is, don’t see a medal so I guess its a unit commendation. Looks like you’re in a hospital.”

“That is Admiral Wilkes, CNO at the time. He isn’t a friend and he doesn’t know me, but because of circumstances I couldn’t be with the rest of the crew when they received it and he personally delivered mine. PUC, by the way. You probably didn’t get one sitting next to the pier.” Charlie couldn’t pass up the cheap shot.

“Turn to the next page, maybe you will recognize some of the folks there. Want to try?”

“I recognize Commander Douglas. That is Mr. Bransford getting the award. I see he has dolphins. Mr. Jacoby is in the background . I don’t recognize the civilian giving him the award.” Ben knew the answer was not going to be anything he wanted to hear.

“That is your Chairman of the House Armed Services Committee, Representative DeBlasio, from Pittsburgh. Those are spooks who also got a PUC. The Congressman keeps close tabs on Pennsylvania servicemen who do good and he loves to show up at these little parties. He thinks submarine sailors walk on water. He was particularly delighted in this case because Peter’s mother has been a campaign worker for him since he was a county commissioner candidate.”

Ben felt a slight tension knot in his stomach. He started to have a lot more empathy for the situation Rege Adams experienced.

Charlie took the album from Ben and replaced it on the book shelf “But, back to the appliance store. Peter has on-call service contracts all over the city, really specialized stuff, mostly radio. He needs to be in town and he needs a place to hang out when these service calls come. So, Peter makes a deal with the shop owner. He does all the setups and repairs. It is way beneath him, but it gives him a place to camp and a commercial location for supply purposes and the tax man.

“I’m really surprised you don’t have all of this. If I’m not wrong I think he mentioned one time he has government contracts to maintain radio equipment for a bunch of agencies. He said he had to get new clearances for that.”

Ben interrupted. “I find it ironic that Peter has the ability to conduct satellite communications and a friend has a small bank out in the middle of nowhere. Sounds like a perfect setup for laundering money to me. The casino traffic would could mask otherwise seemingly large transactions.”

Charlie leaned back in his chair and gave Ben a dismissive wave. “Now you’re starting to disappoint me. The bank examiners are in here regularly. I get audited by more agencies than you can imagine. The state is in here, the department of the interior is in here, the agriculture department, even the state department has been nosing around. Get in line, sucker. You can check their reports. I’m sure you have your own resources for tracking my satellite traffic. I would have expected you to have done some better investigating before coming here.”

Charlie’s mood took on a sudden edge and he folded his hands across his chest, “Well, that’s all you get. You waltz in here like you’re some big shot from New York City. Doesn’t do anything for me. I’ve been to New York City. It don’t mean squat to me. You think I’m some hayseed? I couldn’t care less. Go ahead, waste your fucking time on me.”

Ben reflected for a moment, drawing on his pipe. “I know we didn’t serve together and you don’t know me from Adam, but I don’t mean any disrespect to a fellow submariner, okay? I’m acting more like a New York FBI Agent, which isn’t always a good thing. So, I apologize if I came across like I was a big shot from the city and you’re a country hick. I know better than that, and I apologize.”

An exasperated look briefly crossed Charlie’s face, but he said nothing.

“I want to ask you something that is irrelevant to the case, but I’ve been itching to find out. Is it more than coincidence that you and Bransford have beautiful wives? You said they were friends. Were they friends before you knew them?”

“They were friends. Yes, very close friends.”

Ben looked at him for a second. Charlie grinned. Ben shook his head in exasperation. Charlie started laughing. Charlie was enjoying the moment immensely, he always loved this moment.

Charlie leaned toward Ben and restrained his laughing long enough to say, “You can’t ask the question, can you. You’ve been beaten into pâté haven’t you? If I were another JO on the boat you wouldn’t hesitate would you? But now you can’t do it, because you’re big shot New York FBI man and I’m some hayseed and you can’t bring yourself around to being one of the crew again, can you? I love it. You’ve been whipped to death by political correctness, haven’t you? Well, listen: every man in this county from the lowliest farm hand to our congressman has asked me the question without blinking an eye. Yes, some may say it is rude and none of your business, but I love it! I love it! It is my singular triumph in life.”

Ben sat there awkwardly for a few seconds, mulling over what Charlie had said. Internally he had to agree that it was the eternal question a lanky kid from the corn fields of Iowa would forever have to answer. He decided to drop the pretenses and do it like Charlie had said, just like it was from one sailor to another. “How the fuck did you guys ever end up with these women?”

Charlie leaned toward Ben, and as if it were a national security issue and softly recited, “We were on leave. Peter and me. We picked them up. Just by chance. From the first minute it has been the way you see it. I got Kira, Peter got Katerina. Without putting too fine a point on the details, we just happened to be flush with cash.”

“We all happened to hit it off right from the start. The fact that we were sailors was a plus to them, although they didn’t find out until after they agreed to go out with us. I don’t know, Mister Monroe of the FBI, it just fell into our laps. I haven’t stopped smiling since.”

Ben nodded. It was a veiled admission they served together on Starfish. They came off of patrol with 10 week’s back pay. Even at sailor’s wages that would be enough to wine and dine a lady.

Ben sat back with his pipe and didn’t say anything for several moments. The light came on, then he considered the question. “And let me guess. Your wife is a Russian immigrant.”

Charlie feigned agitation and went on the offensive, “Can’t you read? It’s all in the files. Yes, Kira is from Russia. She was born there. Katerina is a more complex case, but you have that all in Peter’s files, right?

“What are you, stupid? Of course, those society gals just fall all over you officer types, maybe you didn’t have to go out and pick up girls. We did! It wasn’t easy, either; especially in Norfolk. Half the town is retired service men who don’t want their daughters to date the men they themselves once were. New London is worse.

“Just so you won’t have any question in your mind, we decided to hit the Big Apple, specifically Brooklyn. Brooklyn where there are plenty of Russian women available because they are so prejudiced they will only date white guys. No Jews, no Arabs, no blacks, no browns, no yellows. Plus, we had the advantage of understanding Russian, so when the girls had their little confabs they thought we couldn’t understand we knew which way the wind was blowing, so to speak.

“And for once the grand scheme all fell into place. And we are all living happily ever after. If you’re looking for a conspiracy, you found it. We conspired to pick up vulnerable immigrant women. I plead guilty! Hallelujah am I guilty! Gotta serve a life term with this woman as a result! Yep, you figured it out!”

Charlie’s voice softened as he continued, “Well, there is that other crime: negligence in the first degree. I turned down fifteen solid offers from Wall Street investment houses and came back to run this dinky little bank. I gave up millions so my kids could grow up in clean air and go to schools where it isn’t a crime for a boy to have a jack knife in his pocket and where most of the high school girls get their diplomas without having been pregnant.”

Charlie stumbled back to the book case took the album again and flipped a couple of pages. “Here’s that fucking snapshot you have been so interested in seeing.” He handed Ben the album. The scene was at Emil’s with the four of them and Emil in the center with his arms around the waists of the girls.

As Ben looked at the album Charlie offered, “If you’re chasing Russians you’re going to have to spend a lot more time here. After my wedding several of the local bachelors took a cue from me and went to Brighton Beach and came back with brides. All of the local girls want to move to the city. Russian girls want the peace and quiet of farm life.”

There was silence for a minute. Ben looked at the picture and just slightly shook his head in disbelief. Two geeks and two models. “The guy in the picture with you, I think I recognize him, but can’t come up with a name right now.”

“Emil,” Charlie said, without offering any further explanation.

Ben thought for a minute before the light finally came on. “Emil, like in the restaurant?” Ben thought for a few more seconds. “Lets see if I have this straight. This is the owner of a five star restaurant. I’ve only been there once. Emil is the kind of guy who wouldn’t give the time of day to anyone lower on the social list than a Rockefeller, and he isn’t just posing, he is hugging you folks.”

Charlie had just scored a home run in the one-ups-man-ship game and he knew it. He shrugged, “We had to eat someplace.”

Ben handed the album back. He thought for a minute. “Okay, I won’t be shy. How do you end up with Emil looking like a proud papa with his favorite children.”

“The short version is Emil found out we were submarine sailors. Emil is a WWII vet and has a soft spot for submarine sailors. Never was able to spend a dime there. He came to Jefferson to cater our rehearsal dinner. There is much more to the story, but I’m sure you have heard it all many times before.”

Ben shook his head. He had lived so long in New York he had become attuned to the social scene and was genuinely impressed with the fact that these guys hooked up with Emil. “He catered your wedding?”

Charlie flipped a few album pages. The page had snapshots of the wedding reception and one of the pictures was of Emil in the church kitchen surrounded by church ladies. After a brief silence Ben changed the subject. “Well, while I’m being a boor, what happened to your leg? Farm accident?”

“No, city accident. I got mugged. You were probably on duty when it happened.”

“So, what happened?”

“Got me by the ass. I’m with my lady on a Sunday afternoon in August of ’89 and the next thing you know I wake up in Naval Hospital, Bethesda, Maryland. Nine months later the True Value ran out of hardware to put in my leg so they gave up and sent me home. We got married, I went to school at Penn, moved back here, took over my uncle’s bank and started breeding children. It’s a good life. Can’t quite wreck around with the boys the way I would like, but the doc here in town says that I probably would have blown out a knee playing with the kids anyway and the government wouldn’t pay for it.”

“So what happened to the muggers?”

“Like I said, you were on duty that day, you tell me. Not my place to pursue them. I wouldn’t know who to pursue. The law says if somebody attacks you, they flee and you take after them in retribution, you go down harder than the original perp. No thanks, I don’t need that kind of justice. There aren’t any muggers here, thank you.”

“But, doesn’t it bother you that you’re crippled for life?”

“It didn’t seem to bother you any.”

“What do you mean?”

“Federal offense isn’t it? Attempted murder. Assault on a federal employee. Where were you? Send me a letter with the details of the concerted effort you made to bring the attackers to justice. You’re the phoniest ass hole the bureau has sent around yet. Sneaking around trying to get something on a hard working, decorated veteran and letting those fucking mobsters that beat the shit out of me just roam the streets. What a bunch of wimps you are.

“Yeah, it bothers me. But it doesn’t bother me as much as knowing that you didn’t do anything about it. No investigation. No arrests.”

Charlie calmed down in a tone that could be mistaken for repentant, “But I’ve moved on. There isn’t anything I could to them that would fix my leg. The police blew it off, so what am I supposed to do? I’ve no idea who I could go after. I don’t remember any detail. I was out cold for a week. You know that beautiful woman in that picture? Well, when I woke up, she was there. Had been there 8 days from 8 in the morning until 10 at night when they ran her out. She was there. Looked like hell. She hadn’t had any sleep and eaten little. But, she was there. She has never been from my side since.

“Muggers? Don’t have time for ‘em partner. I got kids that need to learn how to play ball and fish and hunt and become good sailors. The boys need time, too.” Charlie stared at Ben for a moment then grinned.

Ben mulled over the word “mobsters”. “Which mob was it?”

“I don’t know. All I know is there was this guy named Mikel who thought Kira belonged to him. You’re a few years too late, aren’t you? Anyway, I really don’t know for sure. Everything about what happened that day is a blank. The last thing I remember is Kira and the first thing I saw when I came to was Kira.”

Ben thought for a minute. “Could I talk to Kira?”

Charlie shrugged. “I don’t know. Three things. First, you will have to come back. Kira is in Iowa City for the week working on some translations with Professor Nielsen.

Second, I don’t think it would be worthwhile dragging up something that happened ten years ago. It was very traumatic for her. In a way it was worse on her than it was on me.

“Third, why bother? You can’t do anything about it now. The statute of limitations is long past. Look, we haven’t had anything to do with that part of the world for ten years. We live here for a reason. That reason is because there ain’t any out-of-control gangsters here that the law enforcement people ignore. If something happened to me or my family here you better believe the law would be on top of it, not just giving lip service.

“No. You can’t talk to Kira, at least not today.”

Ben thanked Charlie for his time. Charlie took the offering of a handshake and escorted Ben from the building to Ben’s government sedan. As Ben was opening the door of his car he looked back at Charlie. “He catered your wedding?”

Charlie smiled, “Eat your heart out.”

Ben drove to Des Moines. On the way he called the local FBI Field Office and asked if there would be anyone available to talk to him about Charlie. The reply was that an Agent would be there late in the afternoon.

Agent Kevin Hardwick came into the office around 4:30. “I hope this doesn’t take to long, Ben. I want to get out to the kid’s ball game.”

“No, it shouldn’t take that long. I’m working on a case and I just want to make sure I haven’t overlooked anything. Can you tell me about Charlie Stone, over in Jefferson.?”

“Charlie Stone?” The Agent laughed. “You know that old adage, ‘if it looks too good to be true, it probably is’? Well Charlie is the exception. Always very cooperative. We never have to hassle for information or records. There have been two cases where he tipped us to some illegal activities, long before anyone would have been suspecting what was going on. And he is probably the smartest banker in the region. There was a huge cattle scam in the region. Over a hundred million dollars. Charlie was the only bank, and I mean the only bank in the region that did not get taken in. His uncle, you know that story, don’t you? His uncle took a hit for six million. In fact, Charlie alerted the Iowa Attorney General to what was going on, which is a bit of an embarrassment because the AG didn’t act on his information for two years.

“He has caused us some extra work because of security needs for the foreign dignitaries who visit. I could do without that. Mostly Arabs. I think they have been getting quite a few African visitors, also, but they haven’t required the security details the Arabs do.

“Aside from that, I don’t know what I can tell you. He is always cooperative, but not chatty. He has done a lot for that little town. Of course, it isn’t all sugar and spice. He has to foreclose on a farm occasionally and, what was it now… I think it was four years ago that farmer shot at Charlie when he was serving the foreclosure.

“Because of the casino business and the foreigners coming and going we’ve spent a lot more time in Jefferson and with Charlie Stone than one would expect for a small town setting. I probably have his dental records, if you care.” Agent Hardwick laughed at his own joke.

Ben said, “I’m interested in money laundering, specifically electronic transfers, satellite usage. Any chance of that?”

Agent Hardwick immediately replied. “No way. The Indian Affairs people were in the bank last year for three months because of some shenanigans going on within the tribe. Money laundering was one of the concerns because the contractor who actually runs the casino for the Indians has mob ties. Nope. I can tell you right now that bank is not a conduit for any illegal transactions from any source. It’s a small town bank and Charlie knows where every dime in the county comes from and goes to. When something looks fishy, he talks with the Sheriff.

Agent Harvick changed his mood from casual familiarity concerning Charlie to one of concern about Ben’s enquiry. “Is there something I should be investigating here? The Casino has satellite communications, and their traffic was reviewed. Is there some indication traffic is originating in this area?”

Ben held up his hand and shook his head. He had suspected the answers he got. He just had to make sure he didn’t miss anything. He thought for a few minutes. “Do you know his wife at all?”

Agent Hardwick raised an eyebrow. “Not in any investigative capacity. It just so happens my wife knows her through a church women’s group. They shared a ride on a trip to a regional meeting in Minneapolis last summer. Marge was more than impressed with her. I’ve been introduced at church, but the conversation went no further”

“Any mention of being high maintenance or anything like that?”

“No. But, Marge isn’t the kind who would necessarily think in those terms unless it was glaring.”

Ben nodded and wondered if he could contrive an excuse to track down Kira in Iowa City.

Ben spent a few days in Washington, D.C. After glad handing a few old friends he went to work requesting a variety of files on people and events. Peter Bransford had been investigated by DOD and DOJ for fraud. Case closed by DOD. Counter action against the government went in his favor. A contact at the IRS said if the FBI ever called them again with such a time waster they would not cooperate in any further investigations, “…… call when you have something we can make some money on.” There were unsolicited letters from several congressmen and senators, advising the Director of the FBI that Mr. Bransford was a stand up guy and shouldn’t be unnecessarily bothered. Peter’s files for gaining clearances included exhaustive credit and background checks.

After a third day of reviewing documents on Russian gangs and pasting together various timelines he had some curious coincidences here and there, but the connections were so weak they couldn’t stand up in a circumstantial argument. As far as direct evidence went, he had nothing.

As Ben looked at the reports on Mikel his attention was drawn to the abrupt ending of the file. The gang dissolved with all of the gang, except the leader, ending up jailed for state convictions. The leader disappeared in early September, 1989. An entry over a year later indicated the leader surfaced in a Moscow jail.

Ben left the records center and started walking. He idly found his way to the Mall and found a bench in the afternoon sun. As he loaded his pipe he let his mind fly. He remembered his days as a non-qualified junior officer on Hammerhead. The pranks and practical jokes played on him. Bluenose ceremonies. Qualification ceremonies. Camaraderie. Life long friends, some of them from unlikely sources. He reflected on the lasting friendship of a mess cook who later became a priest. He thought of the former Second Class Electricians Mate who ran the Marina where Ben kept his boat.

Ben smiled to himself about the pranks that had no purpose or motive other than to demonstrate they could be done. He thought of the outrageous generosity the crew demonstrated toward an anonymous family in St. Croix whose home had been destroyed by a hurricane.

Peter and Charlie maybe were just catalysts for actions by others. Why Bahamas? Going to Breckinridge was a natural: Peter owned it. What was the tradition of going to the Bahamas founded on?

Ben stood and briskly returned to the records center. He used a secure, interagency telephone and made a few calls to contacts in various agencies to glean information on Mikel. His instincts told him Mikel was a key player.

His last call was to the Legal Attaché, actually a FBI special agent, at the U.S. Embassy in Moscow.

Back at his temporary work station Ben thought about all of the closed doors Howie ran into. He started tapping names into the search engine. He looked at the results and found a good lead.

“Barry! Barry Gleason. Ben Monroe. Yeah, I know. It has been forever. Well, I’m retired, but I got called back. I’m in town for a few days. Can I buy you and the wife dinner tonight? Is that so? I didn’t know that. I’m sorry to hear that. Can I buy you dinner tonight? You pick. Yeah, I still love crab, don’t get it in New York. Okay, See you at seven.”

The drive to Beverly Beach, Maryland and Foster’s Restaurant was complicated. When Ben arrived it was apparent to him why Barry chose the location. Foster’s was a local restaurant with outdoor seating overlooking Chesapeake Bay. They had a very private setting in an ordinary public location. “How the hell did you come up with this place?”

“My dad told me about it right before he died.”

“What, your dad was in the service, too?”

“Yeah. I never knew. Imagine that. So, is this really for auld lang syne, or you got a problem?”

“A little of both. I’m truly sorry to hear about April. I know how much you meant to each other.”

“Thanks.”

A waitress appeared with a pitcher of beer and a plate with four crabcakes. Are you guys having dinner tonight?”

Ben looked at the waitress, “Crab Imperial for me. If there is a small serving or large serving, I will have the large.”

Barry said, “Stuffed flounder for me. No potato, just vegetables.”

Barry stabbed at a crab cake and poured a glass of beer. “What do you have?”

Ben outlined the situation while eating a crab cake. When he finished his recitation he did not get any response from Barry. Ben washed down the last of a crab cake with some beer as he waited for an answer.

Barry lifted his glass and studied the bubbles rising from the side. “Anything I might be able to tell you, one way or the other would be worthless to you, as far as a case goes. You understand that, don’t you? You understand there is no way in hell anything could be repeated or collaborated. I know you understand that. So I guess what I don’t understand is why bother asking?”

Ben nodded. The waitress appeared with their dinner. The large platter of crab imperial was sizzling.

When the waitress departed Ben felt free to speak. “I’ve this insecure thought going through my mind that maybe technology has passed me by and I no longer know all of the questions to ask. I know about electronic funds. What I don’t know is if some ham radio operator on Long Island can access resources in an undetected manner. I don’t know what you can look at, or want to look at, or care about looking at that could possibly help me. The reports I have indicate money showing up in certain places, but there is no front end record of the money being deposited from the source.”

Barry finished chewing on a piece of zucchini squash. “The fact is we don’t look at everything. Someone gets an idea and we look to see if anything relates to that question. The answer to your question is, theoretically, just about any radio operator in the world could use a satellite link for a variety of purposes and get away with it for a short period of time. The commercial operators are very sensitive to unauthorized use and they shutdown operators every day.”

“How about government resources?”

“An operator would have to figure out how to gain access first, which means having either tremendous computing resources or someone inside providing the code. Any suspicious activities are quickly located in most cases.”

Ben raised an eyebrow. “Most?”

“There is a rogue operator out there that has been hassling us for years. A finger-in-the-eye type of guy. A couple of years back there were some changes in his traffic patterns. One of the analysts thinks it is a second operator piggy backing on the first, but I don’t think anyone has looked at it that hard.”

Ben ate in silence while he formulated his next question. A seagull landed on the back of an empty chair and shifted its attention between Ben’s dish and Barry’s. Barry swatted at it, but it just fluttered a bit as it a moved a small distance out of Barry’s reach, but remained perched on the chair.

Ben smiled. “That’s what I’m doing. I’m swatting at a seagull.” The thought of the seagull being a nuisance that one would like to eliminate, but was protected from harm by all kinds of legal and social mores, seemed to fit right in. Ben knew Peter had to be involved, but it seemed more than likely if Ben swatted at Peter, Peter would just fly away.

“All right. Forget about the realities and legalities. Be a shipmate. I just want to know, not if it is possible, but if there is any probability Peter Bransford might be able to use a government or commercial communications satellite to do EFT in an unmonitored fashion.”

Barry’s face indicated his skepticism and a small desire to call Ben an idiot. “You won’t be able to leverage the information, even if I have it. I don’t exist as far as your game is concerned. If the answer is yes, all you will do is drive yourself nuts. And, this isn’t a matter of me ‘not able to comment.’”

Ben played in his crabmeat with his butter knife for several seconds until he came up with several slivers of cartilage. He pushed them together at the end of the knife in a small glob, held the knife so it pointed past the seagull and the flicked the glob onto deck. The seagull hopped down and snatched the treat. Ben turned back to Barry with a look of satisfaction. The case was wearing at him and moving the seagull off the chair was a slight victory. “Let me ask another question. No person, no organization is perfect. Here is the question: If someone has access and spots a gap, could that person exploit that gap, even for a small period of time?”

Barry shrugged. The seagull hopped back onto the chair back, close to Ben. “I’ll get back to you on that. You know, we are supposed to be the think-outside-the-box guys. But the past ten years or so we have been hiring more PhDs and fewer ex-military enlisted. We have more managers being concerned about being managers than facilitating clever ideas.”

The look on Barry’s face indicated concession and a small hint of dispair, “I know your Peter Bransford. Not in a literal sense, but he isn’t unique and I served with a couple of guys like him. I know you did, too. In our shop these guys are quitting. It used to be exciting for them, they could go anywhere they wanted and try out anything they wanted. The managers have taken over. No spontaneity anymore. The reality is, if this is what your guy is doing, he picked the right time. All of the ‘what-ifs’ are now filtered through committees. If I proposed this question the committee would more than likely vote ‘no’ to protect the reputation of our systems. And I would get fired if I pursued it independently and they found out.”

Barry loaded a small portion of crab stuffing on his forked and launched it in an arc over the sea gull’s head. The bird followed it, extended his head and snatched at the passing meal. The motion caused the bird to lose its balance and it fell to the deck in a flurry of wings and squawks.

Barry pointed his fork at Ben. “I know that bird.”

The following day Ben returned to the records center to find a stack of faxes waiting for him. A general account stated Mikel was sitting in a security hospital. He was suffering from delusions of persecution in addition to serving a 20 year sentence for smuggling and a host of other charges. When his debt to society was paid he could be transferred to an asylum for non-criminal insane people. Mikel was terminally ill with HIV-AIDs.

A copy of Mikel’s medical records was forwarded. It was all in Russian, but a form is a form and Ben saw that the date on it was September 11, 1989. He could assume that the block containing the words “KIRA” several times was for “Scars and Other Identifying Marks”. Ben quickly went to the foreign language section and without so much as an introduction plopped the sheaf of papers on a startled translator’s desk.

The translator scanned the document and said, “It’s a medical history form. I would say that it is a preliminary form, like you would fill out while entering a hospital.”

Ben said, “What about this block?”

“Scars and Tattoos. Ooooh this hurts just thinking about it. He has KIRA tattooed on the head of his penis. Also on his left knuckles, on his chest and on his right wrist in a rope pattern. Wait a minute. I’m sorry. I should have said he has new tattoos. This means new; more accurately, fresh.”

“Okay. Let me see. How about this form?”

The translator studied for a minute. “Looks like an arrest report of sorts. Let me see. This is a bill of particulars, like an indictment. Mikel entered Russia illegally on September 10, 1989, had one million counterfeit rubles, five kilos of cocaine, a counterfeit passport in his name and a genuine passport belonging to another citizen.”

The translator turned the page and read silently for a moment. “Oh, this is clever. His entry was attempted by concealing himself in a cargo container of flowers being shipped from Ecuador.”

“Ecuador? How the hell does that work?” The rhetorical question died in the translator’s cubicle. Ben Mumbled to himself. “Christ, these guys really went out of their way.”

Ben stood silently for a few minutes. One of the general reports said Mikel was crippled. Ben went back to the medical report. “Take a look on here and see if he has any conditions or injuries other than being insane.”

After reading for a minute the translator read, “Severe trauma to left knee. There are some medical terms here I’m not certain of. I can look them up if you want to wait a few minutes.”

“No, thanks. I think I have the picture.”

Back in New York Ben called a friend at the IRS regional office and outlined what he was after. The friend said to stop by and he would have the information ready.

At the IRS office Ben was introduced to Ms. Maria Castori. Maria was petite and attractive … and all business. Ben mulled over the idea of calling her later on for a date, but thought better of it after considering Maryellen’s reactions.

“Here is what we worked up on Mr. Bransford. What would you like to see? Financials?”

“No, I understand that his financials are in order. What I’m interested in is the results of your physical search at this residence and at the shop.”

“Good, that is why I ended up with this case. The original team was confused by all of the electronic gear. They figured he might have some hidden computer files. In his house he had a PC and it had all of his personal finances on it. We confiscated that long enough to learn his books checked out. Same thing for a PC at the store. All of his business records were on the computer and it was a breeze to check invoices against accounts receivable, etc. He has a bookkeeper that is very conscientious.

“He has a workshop that is detached from the house. He has radio equipment in there that covers the entire radio spectrum. He has antennae for everything except transmitting the very lowest frequencies. He has a personal computer in the shop that is programmed in UNIX, but there was nothing on it except the operating system. The rest of the hard drive was blank, and I mean all zeroes blank. He has a safe in the shop and that safe held another hard drive and some floppies. We ended up sending those to NSA for reading. Nothing we had could read the drive. After a few weeks they sent us a report that there was nothing of any interest to the IRS on the hard drive or the floppies. I pressed. A NSA manager came to my office and had a ‘come to Jesus’ talk with me and said it was none of my business; to move on.

“I told him all I was looking for was money. He told me that I should just forget about the existence of the items in question and would be well served if they were not mentioned in any report, and the hard drive was property of the United States Government, more specifically his property.

“By that time it was clear that we had been steered into a dead end anyway, so I had no problem not mentioning the extra material in my reports. I don’t know if the guy is some kind of spy, but his taxes were squeaky clean. He had documents for every damned penny. He actually under reported a few expense items. When I brought it to his attention he shrugged it off, saying it wasn’t worth the hassle should he be audited.

Maria produced a series of pictures of the interior of Peters workshop and shuffled them until she found a picture of a wall covered with shelving and bins.

“The only possible area I could find that might be a gotcha is the parts inventory he has. He has a substantial stock of integrated circuit packages, LCD display panels, and mechanical devices, you know, switches and trimmers, stuff like that. He has a large stock, but no invoices for anything. On the other hand, I recognize that these electronics developers get freebies and swap stuff, so I didn’t press. It wouldn’t be worth the effort to try to put a dollar value on any of it, since something that was precious six months ago is today as common as dirt.”

“He was cordial and helpful. His wife had some kind of chip on her shoulder, but even she turned out to be okay in the end. She gave me some plants for my window box the last time I was there.”

Ben was exasperated, but not the least bit dismayed by the evaluation. “So you didn’t find any evidence of the ability to do electronic transfers or anything like that.”

Maria thought about that question for some time before replying. “He has the equipment to do direct satellite communications, and in my opinion he has the ability to figure it out if he so desired, so I guess he possibly could do it. I don’t mind passing this along to you, Mister Monroe, this guy isn’t some hacker messing around with cell phone codes. Mister Bransford is a foundation developer, that is, he comes up with developments that others will be adapting for years. Yes, he could theoretically have a Dick Tracy wrist radio that is monitoring all of the banks in the world. On the other hand, none of the computer files supported such an operation. That includes the material sent to NSA. I specifically asked that same question. NSA said there was nothing of that sort on the material they looked at.

“I never did hear why you guys wanted him audited. We put a lot of effort into him and didn’t get anything. The suits were pissed about that.”

Ben nodded. “I can imagine. Maybe I’ll share the story with you someday.”

Maria thought about that statement for a moment, looked at Ben, and said, “I’ll wait for your call.”

There was one more stop. Ben went to the records center of the New York Police Department. The accounts of the Saturday night massacre amazed him. Coupled with the information he had on Mikel he was starting to think the Israelis or some other government entity was behind the attack. But, there was the question of the Kira tattoos. Maybe the tattoos were just a red herring. Anyone able to pick out the police plant would know about the neighborhood gossip. There was a report of damage done to the rental car. The report on the mugging was a statement made by Kira at the emergency room. She could not identify the muggers at the time. Nothing in the statement indicated she was accompanied by anyone.

Ben called a friend who lived in Brooklyn. Over a beer Ben learned that despite the fact it had been several years, the legend of Mikel lived on. The word on the street following Mikel’s departure was the Jewish Defense League brought in a squad of commandos from Israel. Mikel had raped a Jewish girl who was working with a Jewish immigrant aid group. The story had legs because a high Israeli official just happened to be in town with a large security contingent. The current rumor was that Mikel was in an insane asylum in Russia and he had cousins who were trying to get him released because Mikel had several million dollars squirreled away when he disappeared.

Ben asked it could have been a rival gang, like maybe Pavel. The answer was no. The Russians would have just killed everyone in broad daylight and left them together in a pile. The fact that there weren’t any fatalities except the bodyguard indicated someone else was at hand.

Ben made a few calls and told the third respondent he needed an informal conversation with the security officer of the local Jewish Defense League cell. That evening Ben got an answer. He left his house immediately to meet a contact at the local library.

Moshe Stein sat and listened impassively as Ben laid out his story. After Ben finished his monologue Moshe sat and contemplated his response for several seconds.

“So, what do you want from me? Whatever happened ten years ago seems to have pretty much taken care of itself. In any event, where do you fit in? From what I understand this is all local.”

“I think the events of ten years ago are the crack in the wall I need to find out what is going on today. The fact is Pavel is running an air tight organization as far as money is concerned. It just may as well be that someone else is actually the brains behind his operation and it may be that person was also responsible for the sudden departure of Mikel.”

Moshe sat silent. His eyes danced in his head as he considered what to say. “Before Mikel disappeared our community was prey for those thugs. The police laid the situation at our feet. We never denied it. Since then things have been a lot more civil. The Russians are convinced it was us. Why should I burst that bubble now?”

Ben thought for a moment. “How familiar are you with what happened that night?”

“We have a very thorough report, with the exception of Mikel. We know a police plant was spared.”

“Who do you think did it?”

“I can be more certain of who didn’t do it. It wasn’t the CIA or any other US agency. Everything has been too tight to be a U.S. Government job. It had to be an outside group; possibly East Germans. The damage kind of reflects their thinking. I mean, why not just kill them? Why go to all the trouble of maiming everyone? Why leave people alive who might be able to identify the attackers?”

Moshe waited a moment before continuing, “I don’t know who Mikel pissed off before he came to the States. Nobody has been overheard claiming responsibility. If it would have been somebody local, they would be bragging by now.”

“What about the girl Mikel raped? The buzz is that you didn’t take that too well.”

Moshe sat silent for a few seconds then said. “Just between you and me?” .

Ben nodded

Moshe took a deep breath and closed the distance between the two of them, “We were two days from getting our people in place. Can you imagine? There was a line of organizations waiting to kill that bastard.”

“Did you know about a girl named Kira?”

Moshe thought for a moment. “Nothing direct. Somebody floated a story that Mikel kidnapped a girl named Kira and fled the country along with all of his cash. We didn’t have anything on any girl that I know of. Might be something in our files, if you want me to look.”

Ben shook his head no. They sat in silence. Moshe was nodding with the faintest hint of a smile, “Smooth operation, wasn’t it? If you follow the events closely you will see all of the cards fell into place for someone. The whole story just died. Is this a great country, or what?”

The next morning Ben called Peter for an appointment. He wasn’t sure what he would learn, if anything, but he was at the point now where he just needed to meet this guy that seemed so clean. Peter told him to meet at the boat that afternoon; they could talk while they were fishing.

Ben spent the remainder of the morning trying to find questions as yet unanswered. The fact that Charlie was hospitalized at Bethesda seemed strange. He called the First Naval District JAG office and told the duty officer what he was interested in.

“Let me get this straight,” the female voice on the phone said. “You want me to find a shore patrol report on a mugged sailor from 1989?”

Ben affirmed the request.

“Mr. Monroe, there is a good chance that there is no report. There may only be a ledger entry. In any event, it will take some time to retrieve the records. Can I have a Yeoman call you back? Should be within the hour.”

Ben agreed and said thank you. Forty minutes later Ben got the report. “With regards to Charlie Stone, NYPD called Shore Patrol to City General Hospital Emergency Room. The Shore Patrol notified First Naval District. First Naval District Duty Medical Officer directed immediate transfer to Bethesda. The entry was made by Boatswains Mate Senior Chief Petty Officer R.L. Hanes, Shore Patrol Duty Officer.

“For your information, Mr. Monroe, there were three emergency room calls that day.”

Ben asked, “How were the others disposed of?”

“The other two were enlisted men from the USS Concord. They were returned to their ship.”

Ben gave his thanks, replaced the phone in its cradle and stared at the wall while contemplating the situation. No records. Slim records. And just because he was frustrated, there was really no reason in the world for there to be any comprehensive investigation of a sailor being mugged. Every day dozens of sailors ended up in emergency rooms due to altercations and automobile accidents. The Navy gets notified and the Navy moves them from the civilian facility to a Navy facility. Even though everything was routine for the Navy, Ben had a nagging feeling the vague information was missing something important.

Ben contemplated calling a friend who was still with the intelligence community for some back channel information on Peter and NSA. The more he considered it the more he thought it would be a waste of time. There would be no reason for anyone at NSA or anywhere else to even acknowledge Charlie’s professional assistance. Ben saved the cost of the call.

Ben called his liaison at NYPD and asked if it would be possible to talk to the police plant that had been in Mikel’s gang. After waiting a few minutes he got a return call. The policeman died of a heart attack a year earlier.

Ben felt deflated as he hung the phone. Holes and smoke was all he had.

He called the Drug Enforcement Administration. The reports he read in Washington stopped with Mikel’s disappearance with a single entry, “Disposed by Local Action.” He heard occasional rumors on the street that DEA had a clandestine hit squad. It was his last thread of hope.

Shawn Mohamed greeted Ben, “What can this lowly narc do for the legendary Mr. Monroe?”

Ben shook his head and sheepishly grinned. “I’m not so legendary on this case. This is Russians and I’m a little out of my element. I need a history lesson and maybe some inside information. What do you know about the Russian gangs Mikel and Vedereche?”

“The short story is they are both history, but you probably already know that. Mikel disintegrated amid some sadistic exercise. Vedereche just disappeared. My information is the entire gang was eliminated in Brazil.”

Ben nodded. “Where was DEA during this, work wise?”

“We were following them. They weren’t on our “A” list, but we have a file on them.”

“So, they wouldn’t be classified as needing, let us say, special attention or extraordinary attention?”

Shawn laughed, “Ah, now I know what your question is. No it wasn’t us. We have a few Agents who stretch the envelope occasionally and they have let the word spread that DEA took out, what was that guy’s name, oh yeah, Mikel. It is all air. You know the case? Exquisite. I wouldn’t even speculate how to gather the resources to pull it off. Beyond anything we could put together, not that we would, you understand.”

Ben thanked Shawn for his time.

Ben drove to the eastern end of Long Island to the Riverhead Yacht Club. Peter waved at him from the pilot’s chair of a 28 foot Boston Whaler. Ben made his way down the dock and went aboard.

“Cast off that forward line, if you will.” Peter took in the after line as Ben went forward. Ben unhooked the line from the dock and let it slide to the deck in an untidy heap.

Peter talked as he maneuvered the boat out of the slip. “I’m impressed Mister Monroe. You’re the FBI’s top mob buster and you’re chasing a radio tech all over. I’m also a bit curious. Your specialty was the Italians; what are you doing in Brighton Beach?”

“I’m here because I used to be a bubblehead.”

“Well, that makes sense. There is a growing conspiracy among submarine sailors to take over the world. I got word that somebody is even organizing a Starfish reunion.”

Peter kept the conversation light for a half hour as they headed to the ocean. Once in open water Peter walked to the front of the boat and properly laid down the forward line as the boat cruised unattended.

He consulted his fathometer from time to time, found a spot to his liking, cut the engines and dropped the anchor.

“Want to fish? No sense wasting the trip.”

“No thanks. I never have been one for fishing. Can we talk about Pavel?”

“We can talk as long as you aren’t transmitting or recording my conversation.”

Ben sat for a moment in silence.

Peter pulled out a credit card sized object with an amber light glowing on it. He held it in contemplation for a moment before placing it in Ben’s hand.

Ben looked at it without comment. After a few seconds he handed it back to Peter, reached in his jacket and pulled out a small tape recorder. He turned a switch. Peter held out his hand and Ben placed the recorder in Peter’s hand. Peter looked at it for a second then set it on a shelf under the steering column. Peter said, “Wasn’t it President Reagan who said, ‘Trust, but verify?’”

Peter went to a built-in ice chest and pulled out two beers. Ben took his and mumbled thanks.

“So, you have been on a little boondoggle, Mister Monroe. Could have saved yourself a lot of time by just coming to the store. I don’t understand what your preoccupation with possible naked pictures of my wife might be. I can assure you she doesn’t have any pieces that aren’t available on every other woman.”

“We have our methods. Sometimes they aren’t obvious to the lay public. I guess the story has become a bit twisted, which doesn’t surprise me. I’m starting to feel like Alice. In any event, I’m not pursuing naked pictures, or any other picture, of your wife.

“In fact, I just wanted to meet you first hand. I was called in because I also served in the submarine service. The NYC office is investigating the activities of certain Russian immigrant organizations. Your commercial connection with Mr. Stolovitch raised some questions. You’re a like a puzzle piece in the wrong box. It is so obvious that you don’t belong, yet there is no explanation for why you’re there.

“The Assistant Director asked for my help, thinking I might have some insight on what a potential rogue sailor might do. Of course, you and I both know that a rogue sailor might do anything, but not in the same fashion of ordinary people. We have been exposed to too high a level of sophistication, seen things from perspectives not available to non-quals.

“The bottom line is I don’t have a fucking clue what your game might be, if there is one. I really don’t. The shop suspects money laundering. They can’t get a handle on Stolovitch’s cash flow and they are losing the handle on another mob. Since the two mobs are at odds with each other they minimize the potential for any commonality.

“But your friend Mr. Stone said something that I took to heart. He got upset when I asked him a simple question and his reply was, ‘It’s all in the files.’ So I’ve spent a few days in D.C. going through some old files and I came across two situations I’ve never seen before. In fact, I hadn’t even heard of these situations, yet they were in the files.

“Eight or ten years ago a Russian mob here in Brooklyn seemed to self destruct on a Saturday night. The leader disappeared. For years nobody on this side of the pond knew what happened to him. Turned up in a Russian mental facility. The book on him in Brooklyn was he was psychotic. So I guess a mental facility is where he belongs.

“New Years, 1998, another mob decided they had enough of the old country bosses and split for Brazil. Except no one ever mentioned this was in the plans to the NYPD undercover agent who got swept up in the affair and woke up first on a ship, then in Brazil. Our boy got out but everybody else was executed. We have reason to believe that somebody coincidentally tapped the Russian for 30 million.”

Peter started laughing. In a few seconds he was laughing so hard he had difficulty breathing. Soon tears were flowing down his face. After a minute or so he regained his composure. He finally stopped and wiped his eyes.

“I wondered what happened. That was Vedereche. Word on the street was he was a cousin to the first gangster you referred to. His name was Mikel. Vedereche was real tough. Of course, I don’t have to tell you this ‘cause you have done your homework. That is the funniest thing I’ve heard of in years. Shanghaied to Brazil. I love it.”

Ben continued in a serious tone, “There are virtually no tracks in either instance. Circumstances surrounding the first case were such that the FBI didn’t find out about the situation for months and the NYPD just let the case die of neglect. Second case is even worse. They disappeared from the Bahamas where we have zero clout. But, nobody will report seeing them leave the hotel they were in. Imagine, a party of a dozen leaving unnoticed.

After a brief pause Ben continued. “You were there, weren’t you?”

“I visit there every year, you know that. Charlie told you. It’s not a secret.”

“You weren’t curious?”

“About what?”

“About what happened to the Russians.”

“Didn’t know anything about it until just now. I guess they go there just like anybody else. I never heard on the street anything about Bahamas.”

“I know the story on Breckenridge. Why Bahamas?”

“Why Bahamas what?”

“You go there every year with Charlie and his wife. What’s the connection?”

Peter shook his head and had to suppress a laugh. He took a long pull on his beer before answering. “Charlie bought a piece of swamp land in Florida from a huckster right after he first went on the Ohio. You know the scene, free dinner at the Holiday Inn in exchange for listening to the spiel. No obligation, of course. A shipmate was working as a shill and kept encouraging Charlie. Charlie thought it would make a nice retirement place.”

Peter had a rather wistful look on his face as he said, “You know, if Forest Gump had been a sailor, it would have been Charlie Stone. It’s kind of hard to imagine the Charlie Stone of today, sophisticated financier, getting roped into something like that, but that was when he really had very little idea of what the world was all about. It wouldn’t happen today, you can bet on that!”

Peter smiled, “It turned out to be worthless. There was a government action against the company. Here is the short version: because Charlie was in the service at the time he was exempt from the 90 day inspection clause that left most of the other buyers out of luck. He and a handful of other servicemen ended up the only customers who were eligible for reimbursement. The class was reduced from over 500 to under 25 and they ended up with a choice of properties, good properties, in several places. By then he’d been around a little bit and he chose the Bahamas. We go there, the women gab, we fish, he gets to swim with the kids. He can swim. He can’t ski, so no need going to the shack over Christmas, so we go to his place in the Bahamas. That’s the short form. If you want more details I can give them to you, or you can look up the case.”

Ben thought about the explanation for a few moments. It was relatively simple, and not out of the realm of possibility. Ben had been recruited to attend a similar meeting during his career, but didn’t go. He’d heard of a few prosecutions of swamp land companies, so he knew the story could be easily checked. He doubted Peter or Charlie would try to smoke him with something the public record would indicate to the contrary. Ben finished his beer.

“One thing I’m curious about is the NYPD record of the beating Charlie got. There wasn’t any complaint filed. How is it Charlie ended up at Bethesda?”

“I can’t answer any of that. I didn’t find out about it until two days later. The first I heard of it was from Katerina, who heard from Kira’s parents. I can speculate on the hospital. As far as ending up in Bethesda, the Brooklyn facility was long shutdown and I think it just may be that Bethesda was closest. It was obvious he needed big help, so the civilian hospital dumped him off on the Navy. I never really challenged the situation, to tell you the truth.”

“You never thought it was curious he ended up in Maryland?”

“Christ man, where are you coming from? The Navy made the decision. Go talk to them. Why would I be in the loop for something like that? What were the choices? I mean, if you’re going to transport him anyway, why not Bethesda? Hell, I don’t know. Charlie was a Squadron Six sailor, so they wouldn’t send him north, if that would be a consideration. It may’ve had something to do with the type of injuries he had. I never questioned it. At the time I took comfort in knowing he was at the finest facility the Navy had. The details of how and why he got there never stirred my curiosity.”

Ben segued, “Let me change to another subject just out of curiosity. The fraud suit the Navy and later Justice Department brought against you, I still don’t understand how that started.”

Peter just shook his head. This was a topic he was more than irritated about, even though a few years had passed. “I bid on a contract for the Navy. The essence was to provide a modification to a certain receiver in order to provide a finer level of data. Instead of modifying the existing radio I came up with a chassis based on a different approach which combined the capabilities of the existing radio and the improvements plus a series of improvements that leapfrogged the next generation technology. The techs were ecstatic with the new rig. It was much easier to use, more sensitive and had tremendous resolution. Because of the different approach I took, there were some aspects of the assemblies that weren’t in compliance with the Navy Specs at that time. There wasn’t any question of reliability or durability, the damn thing just didn’t look the way the Navy thought it should look. I ran afoul of the bureaucracy.”

Peter went to the ice chest and produced two more beers. “You want a sandwich? The wife made them. I have beef and some are beef and cheese. She made the plain beef in case you’re observant. They aren’t kosher, however.”

Ben declined, indicating he might have one later. Peter continued, “Six months later I’m being sued for breach of contract and fraud. I tried to explain to the investigator who first appeared, but he didn’t understand anything about electronics. So the next thing I know, you guys are snooping around my house. They deposed some radio expert from your lab that I had not fulfilled the letter of the contract from a technical standpoint. I waited for the trial. During the trial he was the second witness after some accountant who recited the contract. PhD in radio, Electronics PE, the whole nine yards. I wanted to cross examine him personally. Then all of a sudden it stopped. I just about had this guy’s entire career in my hands when the government changed its mind and went home.

“I think somebody got pissed because they thought I used political influence to have the case dropped, which was not the case. I would’ve won anyway.”

Peter looked toward another boat heading their way on what might be a collision course. After a brief observation he was satisfied the boat would pass well astern he returned his attention to Ben. “I don’t know this for sure, of course, but I’m of the opinion you guys don’t take losing too well and when you lose you just flip the switch that excites the IRS. The next thing I know, somebody is pushing to have my taxes audited. They turned my life inside out and upside down. Not a dime changed hands.”

Peter smiled, perhaps a bit too smug, considering the situation, but smiled just the same. “Along the line I learned something very interesting. Do you know when the judge hears that a citizen has been twice unsuccessfully prosecuted by the government in non criminal cases he or she is going to be shy about helping a third weak case? Does the phrase ‘having the hammer’ mean anything to you?

“I’m going to tell you something that you won’t be able to repeat, but you might pass on the meaning to your FBI friends. Every activity in life leaves tracks. And if I’m doing something of interest to you, I’m leaving tracks, too. But, an interesting situation has presented itself. I can discredit your tracker. Since you have already missed twice, I can go to any judge and argue harassment and intimidation and you folks won’t be able to get so much as a ferry ticket to Staten Island, let alone a wiretap or a search warrant.”

“All because somebody’s ego got the best of them.” Peter was more than pleased with himself. “A Phi Beta Kappa man could not stand getting sliced and diced by a high school graduate.”

Ben thought for a minute. He walked to the bow and studied the line Peter had stowed in a neat figure of eight lay. He remembered from his early training that was the correct way to lay a line. Ben returned to where Peter was seated. Looking Peter square in the eye he said very bluntly, “You couldn’t plan on having those factors on your side.”

“You’re right. But, since I’m doing nothing wrong, it’s irrelevant. If I were, that would just be icing on the cake. You ever make a serious deployment?”

Ben nodded.

“Remember those sonar traces? The obvious contacts were easy. But as you looked over an old display you would see the patterns of blank space caused by interruptions in the background noise. Remember seeing that?”

Ben nodded again, knowing what the analogy was going to be.

“They were nulls. Nulls were something, too. It was something masking the ambient noise levels. But you never pursued one, did you? So you never knew what that something was or what it could be up to. But that is exactly what you’re doing now, pursuing something that is interfering with the ambient noise level.”

Charlie scratched at the side of his face for a second. “You, and I mean that as a collective you, you won’t be able to prosecute a null. Why? Because you’re so interested in the obvious situations that you already know everything about. You can only focus on crime that has happened. The FBI doesn’t have the tools or the mindset to look at the subtle events that appear to be nothing, but actually may be something significant, just unseen. The only evidence you seem to have are nulls. A court certainly won’t let you go very far with nulls. Let’s face it. You think I’m doing something, but you don’t even know what it might be, let alone how I’m doing it.

“If, and I’m only saying if, I wanted to do something illegal, I wouldn’t do anything that would show up as a noise level. I would do everything to stay a null.”

Ben nodded. He took a swig of beer, and in a move he hadn’t made since he was a kid, he let the suction in the bottle hold the opening to his lip. This lasted for several seconds until he released it by taking another swig. This guy could be up to his eyes in murders or absolutely innocent of any wrongdoing whatsoever. It was the finesse that mattered. He could play on the police and the Bureau’s paranoia and politics and use the turf wars to turn things aside and burn up their time forever, just because it was there to do. Or, he could let them off the hook, except they wouldn’t believe him, because it wouldn’t fit the profile.

Ben decided on a new tack. “Let’s talk about Pavel. All of a sudden you come on the scene, Pavel starts the TV shop and Biosk. Word on the street is that you’re the brains behind Pavel and you call the shots. He is just a puppet.”

Peter responded without hesitation. “The TV shop is simply a case of mutual benefit. Why go anywhere else? Pavel is my brother-in law. He needed a repair bench for the shop, I needed a commercial location close to my customers.”

Peter paused for a moment, detecting a change in Ben’s eyes. “Have I told you something you didn’t know?”

Ben didn’t respond. He started to reply but Peter cut him off. “Don’t try bluffing at poker. You’ll get eaten alive.”

Ben ignored the comment. “Where does the money go?”

“Chechnya.”

“Beg your pardon?”

“Chechnya. Pavel is Chechen.” Charlie paused as he sensed he had lost Ben. “Hello? Are you on board with any of this? All of the money goes to support the rebellion. Everybody is on salary here.”

“And so you set up all of this to support the cause.”

“It ain’t my cause. And I didn’t set this up. I’m the radio guy, remember? I’m not the business guy. Read the comments from the IRS. They were laughing at me for not being more aggressive with my taxes. I’m not the person to advise someone else how to do business.”

“The word on the street is you’re the brains.”

“Well, there is also word on the street that I’m nothing but a geek hiding behind Pavel’s muscle. Line up your people and bring ‘em to the trial. We’ll find out what the word on the street amounts to. You can’t prosecute me because my wife’s brother might be doing something. Although it sounds as if you don’t have any case against him either.”

“Pavel has radio jamming equipment in his store and he sweeps for bugs every morning. Is that your handy work?”

“Duh! So what? Your guys are so clumsy doing your break-ins he really doesn’t need the electronic things. He found the laser bug by himself. Not sure how to combat that, to tell you the truth.”

“Do you know how your wife came to be in the United States?”

Peter shook his head in disbelief and smirked, but held his tone steady. “The father was an operative for the United States. When the Soviets were starting to come apart at the seams he asked for asylum and was told he would have it. All he needed to do was get out of East Germany. Katerina, Pavel and their mother all believed he was betrayed. He alone was shot right before they made the crossing into Austria. The rest escaped. In order to keep their cover intact the family went through the refugee process and finally came to the States. Somebody sends Katerina’s mother a government check every month. That is fact, but I’ll tell you right now you will not be able to confirm that and if you say to anyone I told you I’ll call you a liar.”

Ben reflected for several moments. He unconsciously took a swig of beer from the bottle. “Complete immunity for everything, including the bodyguard, kidnapping the cop to Brazil and you keep all of the cash.”

“And this immunity extends to include who?”

“You and Charlie Stone.”

“In return I would have to do...?”

“Tell us how and where you’re moving the money.”

“That should be obvious to you already. You have a tap on every bank that exists. Between the Cray at NSA, your Cray and I would suspect the CIA Cray, you guys have a lock on every penny that moves. You did do your homework, didn’t you? You know I did the receiver upgrades for their satellite monitors, don’t you? Didn’t you look to see what that was for? Well, maybe you don’t know.”

“The details weren’t in the file. It just said that you were paid for professional services and that details were only available from the Secretary of Defense. Somebody penciled in on the folder, ‘don’t bother: airtight,’ I’ve seen similar unofficial opinions on files in the past. They’re usually reserved for people with the highest of clout. It would be easier for me to find out if the President soils his skivvies than get to that file.

“So, in a word, I don’t know.”

“And why would I want to confess?”

“Just so you won’t have to be looking over your shoulder.”

“I’m not looking over my shoulder now! Excuse me, I have a clean bill of health from every one of your equals across the bureaucratic spectrum. That snippy bitch from the IRS couldn’t come up with anything. I was tempted to cancel her telephone account for the next ten years, but decided that might be stupid. More important, I don’t think you’re the person who could offer immunity. In any event, if I was involved in something, the comrades would be posing a larger threat than the judicial system. What is this bodyguard thing you mentioned?”

“When Mikel disappeared his bodyguard was executed.”

“And that ties to me because....”

“Mikel has tattoos on various parts of his body that say ‘Kira’. Charlie’s’ wife is Kira. It wasn’t Charlie who did it. Charlie was in hospital recovering from his leg injury.”

“Well, I’m still waiting for a leap to me. Charlie was in Bethesda for a long time. I could’ve been at sea or just about anywhere during that period. What was it, six or eight months he was off his pins?”

“The weekend following Labor Day, 1989. The NYPD reports read like a chapter out of Marquis de Sade. In addition to the mayhem laid on the victims, they all had enough dope on them to insure conviction and deportation for possession, but not much more. No cash was found. Generally it would be expected to find upwards of $100,000 in each location. Not one dollar. No forced entries. And the boss ends up in Moscow. I have somebody trying to track down the details of Mikel’s arrival, just because it might prove entertaining.”

“I would have to check with Katerina on that. She keeps a journal. She recorded everywhere we went and when I was deployed. If you want to know where I was on a specific date I’ll call you tomorrow.”

Charlie looked at Ben with a skeptical eye. “You mentioned that you had not heard of this before. Weren’t you FBI here then? How is it you missed out on such a big show? What did I do, plan a cover up?”

Ben considered the question. Peter had him on this one. There was no way something like this could be purposely suppressed. Ben shrugged.

Peter continued the attack, “No, no, no! You can’t just blow me off on that question. So, let me get this straight, Charlie gets mugged and I gather up a gang of what? ECM room geeks? Yep, that’s who comes to save the day, the spooks from Groton. Man, you seem to forget, we are hiders, not fighters.”

Ben shot back, “Okay. So Charlie advises Pavel and sets all this up. He knows something about business, and banking in particular. He runs things from Iowa.”

Peter giggled, “Man, you must have something good in that pipe of yours. You have mentioned three gangs so far, the formerly-feared, suddenly-defunct Mikel, Pavel andVedereche. You don’t seem to see that these guys aren’t a consortium, they are at each other’s throats all of the time. Furthermore, Charlie hates Pavel. Perhaps the only person in the world he has any strong feelings against. You don’t know this, but the attack on Charlie you know about was not the first, but the third. I asked Pavel to persuade Mikel to leave Charlie and Kira alone and Pavel refused. Charlie asked Pavel to intervene and Pavel refused. No, Charlie would only help out Pavel if Pavel was asking for bus fare to hell. Pavel’s name is never mentioned by me or Katerina in Charlie’s presence.”

Peter looked straight at Ben and closed the comfort zone and quietly said, “Look, I don’t know what you know and what you don’t know, but I can see you don’t have any face cards.”

Ben sat in contemplation for a while. “Most people would be pretty nervous about now, what with being accused of murder and kidnapping. You just sit there and let everything roll by. I find that very unusual. No protests.”

Peter replied, “I’ve been through all of this before. The IRS tried to intimidate me, too. Just because you’re FBI and are asking questions about ancient history doesn’t do anything for me. You don’t scare me. Being in the belly of an A-6 and hearing Iranian fire-control radar locking on a target scares me. Why should I be nervous? The last time I was nervous during an interview was when the CO of the Starfish was doing my qualification interview. That was an important event to me, a significant event. I knew he could ask questions I wouldn’t be able to answer. That was the last time I was nervous. Why should I protest? You’re trying to connect me with these activities and yet you sit here and tell me things I had no idea of.

“If you think I did something then present one single bit of physical evidence that links me to a crime. This circumstantial mobius strip you have is starting to be an irritation. How in the hell did you come up with this patchwork of events, anyhow?”

“I had to make a pitch. You understand that, don’t you?”

Peter smiled, “I’m not so sure. Sounds to me like you guys can’t get a handle on anything. You probably never thought the mighty FBI could screw things up so bad, did you? Here’s a lowly enlisted man working in a TV repair shop and he has the FBI talking to themselves, just because you don’t understand that some people aren’t money grubbing yuppies like your friends over in lower Manhattan.

“You ought to investigate Charlie, he would really drive you nuts. That sucker turned down jobs that would have paid him in a year what he might earn in his lifetime. He is so well connected overseas that finance and agriculture ministers come to visit him at that dinky store front he claims is a bank. He finessed, and I mean that in the absolute strictest definition, he finessed the Indian casino account from the largest bank in the region. He has been facilitating foreign exchange programs with farmers and ag professors.”

Ben nodded in agreement. He had to admit he left Charlie’s bank with a feeling he didn’t appreciate who he had been dealing with. “I noticed he had a couple of pictures on the wall of men in dish rags. I was wondering what the tie in was. He also had a few plaques that had foreign and U.S. flags on them. It’s amazing what these farmers can get into.”

Peter said, “Ghutrah or a humag”

Ben looked at Peter, completely confused. “Say what?”

“They aren’t dish rags. Haven’t you had your sensitivity training?” Peter threw a limp wrist wave at Ben. “They are called goooootra. The cord around the cloth is an iqal, or ogal. You better get on board with this or else move to Idaho.”

Peter looked so sincere, but Ben knew the ploy. He gave Peter the finger while mouthing, “Eat me.”

Ben let the exchange die as the small chop of the ocean lapped against the boat. “You know, the key to this may be Kira. She was there the day Charlie was mugged. She was the reason Charlie got mugged. Maybe she called on someone to take care of business for her. Maybe I should talk to her.”

Peter said, “What the hell are you talking about? I thought you were investigating me for running Pavel’s mob. Now you’re dumping me for a ten year old mugging? I’m deeply disappointed. I burned fuel to take you fishing and you want to talk to Kira? ”

Peter laughed, “Take along your fireproof underwear. Kira has been waiting ten years for someone to come around and ask her what happened that night. She will hand you your head when she finds out you were a law enforcement officer at that time. She has always thought the government ignored the situation simply because Charlie was a rag hat. Tell me when you’re going. I want to be there to see the fireworks.

“And, by the way, if you decide to talk with Katerina be prepared for the same thing. She is convinced her father was sacrificed and she has a big chip on her shoulder concerning any federal official. Don’t take it personal. Just be glad I don’t keep any firearms in the house.”

Peter paused for a moment, then challenged Ben, “By the way, what do you think this ethereal operation would be worth?”

Ben gave a shrug. “Hard to know exactly. Everything is very fuzzy on Mikel. But 30 million on Vedereche and lets say 25% on Pavel and one other gang ought to add up to 6 million a year, so let’s say 60 million just for a guess.”

Peter spread his arms as he stood and looked from side to side. “Do you see it anywhere? Do you see a million anywhere? Kind of hard to imagine someone having your 60 million and fishing from a Whaler. Do you think I’ve all these riches and I bought my wife? Is that how you guys think? ‘Well, this guy is just a geek and he has a beautiful wife, he must be a mobster in order to keep her in style.’ Is that the story? Doesn’t work. We live well and within our means. You have investigated and proven that. My wife loved me when I was a sailor and she loves me now. She never asks for anything. She is happy where we’re at.”

Ben held up his hand, interrupting Peter. “No, you can sell that someplace else, but not here. You could very easily be doing it just to prove it can be done and dumping the money down the sewer for all I know.

“You seem to forget that I did my time with you squirrelly bastards.” Ben leaned toward Peter until their noses were nearly together. Ben’s eyes were straight on to Peter’s. “I know you. You would never do this for the money, but you might do it just to prove it can be done.”

Ben leaned back, stood and went to the ice chest and retrieved a sandwich and another beer.

Peter countered, “Don’t take this personally, but I don’t have any respect for your outfit. Ever since you gang raped me on the contract I’ve lost interest in your idea of justice. Let me tell you this: take your little theory to a judge. Don’t worry about evidence or anything, just tell yerhonor that you think I could do it just for kicks.”

Peter rose from the bench he had been sitting on and went to the pilots station to check the displays. He returned his attention to Ben as he sat in the pilot seat. “God, I can’t believe this. A couple of sailors hit the jackpot in the wife lottery and now you’re trying to make me the master mind of all the gang activity in Brooklyn! Of course, the master mind could be a small town banker in Iowa, or maybe his wife. Man, you need to change your medication.”

Peter leaned forward with his forearms on his thighs and hands draped over his knees. His tone changed, sounding as if he was sharing a secret with a child. “I know how criminals get prosecuted, because I know how we nailed the Russians. Criminals leave footprints, they leave clothing fibers, they leave fingerprints and they give you the case. Why? Why do they go to prison? Because they don’t weigh the cost of a pair of shoes and a sweater versus twenty years in prison. They keep these things instead of burning them. They shoot some poor bastard, and in exchange for 25 years to life they keep a hundred dollar handgun under their pillow like nobody is ever going to look there.

“You estimate 60 million. How many pairs of shoes can I afford to burn to keep you from connecting me to a footprint?”

Ben chewed a bite of sandwich as he contemplated the challenge. “But, it is Charlie’s Kira. Mikel had the hots for Kira. Charlie ended up being beaten to scare him off. The next thing that happens is Mikel’s gang is toast. Mikel ends up in Moscow, freshly tattooed KIRA several times, with the same injury Charlie has and conveniently carrying all of the things that will insure him a lifetime of residence in a Russian prison. Sounds like revenge to me”

“Even if it were the case, so what? Yes, it was Charlie’s Kira. Furthermore, it’s a legend in Brooklyn, partially because they believe Kira disappeared from town the same time Mikel did. A lot of people speculate he kidnapped her. I never disabuse them of the notion. These bastards live on revenge. Pavel and I are the only people in Brooklyn who know where Kira is. Anyway, why dig up a ten year old case that nobody cares about? Is there some political gain in this?”

Ben looked straight at Peter and said, “Because its there. Just like your motivation.”

Peter looked straight at Ben and said with a hint of smug satisfaction, “I had never heard about the tattoos before. You know more about what happened to Mikel than I do.”

Ben thought about that statement for several minutes before saying, “And then the Vedereche gang disappears from Freeport while on the track of Kira and you’re there.”

“Oh, horseshit. Where the hell did you come up with that? Come on! Lay out the scenario you’re going to present to the prosecuting attorney about me, two women, four kids under five and a cripple overtaking a gang of Russians and what? Driving them to South America? All of this unnoticed by the authorities?”

Ben continued to work on the sandwich and Peter fired up his tirade again. “You can’t look to Pavel. You’ve had him under close surveillance for years. You know what he was doing that day. I dare you to say he was in Freeport helping out Charlie and Kira, which I assure you he would never dream of doing in any circumstance.”

Ben rinsed the sandwich with some beer, “The massacre was a well planned and well executed operation. It is almost scary, thinking someone could execute so well and not leave one clue. The Freeport situation had to be done on the fly, no way to plan for that. Or maybe that was the plan, get them to someplace where the locals didn’t care that much and then erase them. In any event, somebody has huge resources to draw on to accomplish a job like that. In both cases somebody had not only resources, but enough discipline to not only execute it very smoothly, but to keep it quiet.

“What about your Arab friends?” Ben asked.

“Which Arab friends would you be most interested in?”

“The ones that you accommodate at Breckenridge.”

“Ah, yes. That’s a very lucrative situation. Charlie actually put that together. He was in college with a group of Arabs. They like to ski, but hate public accommodations. Charlie approached me about the possibility of putting up a dedicated building for them. They pay an obscene amount of money into a trust fund that my relatives can draw on for education expenses, excess medical expenses and the like. There’s an Arab family that handles all of the details of the operation. I don’t even know what the building looks like inside.”

“So maybe Charlie’s Arab friends have a hand in all of this.” Ben said before he had a chance to think.

“Now you’re starting to disappoint me.” Peter said. “You ignore the fact that the Arabs weren’t on the scene until Charlie was in college. They have no reason at all to get involved with Russian gangs from Brooklyn. Better talk to your Arab section before you make any pronouncements about that theory to anyone outside this boat.”

Ben sat for a few minutes and smiled. He rose and went to the bow of the boat and started hauling in the anchor, signaling the interview was through. Peter was firing up the twin outboards as Ben came back to his seat. “Just so you don’t think I’m an absolute loser on this, Charlie cheats when he beats you at chess. He got it out of a book.”

Peter smiled, “He’s damned good at it, too. I’ve never been able to catch him.” Peter paused for a second, reached under the steering wheel and handed the tape recorder to Ben.

Chapter 24

When Ben returned to his house he once again started constructing time lines. He methodically wrote down all of the facts he had. The goal was to get something on Pavel. Here he was, all turned around pursuing an assault on a sailor.

Ben called the Assistant Director, told him he was back in town and they needed to meet the following day.

“I’m afraid that the best spin I can put on the situation is inconclusive.” Ben admitted as the meeting began..

Howie interrupted, “Excuse me, Ben, But, I may as well get this over with right now before someone else reports it and makes me look like an idiot. Yesterday, about 9 A.M., Mr. Bransford walked up to our van, knocked on the door until we acknowledged him, and bluntly said, ‘Since you’re going to be tailing me anyway, why not save me subway fares and take me over to the World Trade Center. Radio problem at an EX-IM company.’ He got in the back of the truck with his tool kit and just sat there. Then he looked around and said, ‘Jeez, guys. Most of this stuff is really out of date. I can fix you up with much better stuff, I have a BPO with the feds.’”

“Did you give him a ride?”

“No, we finally shooed him away.”

Ben reached in his pocket and took out his pipe, tobacco and lighter. He started the loading ritual. He spoke in a deflated, quiet manner. “He was right, you know. He does have a BPO. The department has investigated him before, are you aware of that?”

Silence fell on the room.

“Two years ago. I’m surprised you didn’t know, although the case was handled by the DC office. It was pretty high profile from the standpoint he backed off the DOD and DOJ then turned around and got a pimply faced barrister a three hundred thousand dollar award for services rendered in defending his client from false prosecution. He has security clearances for every department of the government. He maintains some of the radio equipment in this building. The client he saw yesterday was more than likely the CIA.”

More silence. Ben finished filling the pipe and methodically spread flame around the bowl with the lighter. The resulting cloud of smoke enveloped him for a second before he continued.

“You’re not going to find anything on this guy, if there is anything to be found, sitting outside his store. All I found out for sure is that there is nothing he doesn’t know about electronics and he has a beautiful wife. In fact, that is the only common thread in this case, every damn geek and mechanic is married to a knockout woman. Hugh Hefner should talk to these guys.

“Having said that, there are a couple of details you may already know and failed to tell me. All of the principals are either from Russia or speak Russian. As far as the women go, it’s like this: two sailors got lucky. They did a little due diligence and took a chance and scored. That is the bottom line.

“Let’s examine the potential relationship between Pavel and Peter. Pavel and Peter are brothers-in-law. I don’t know if Peter is involved or not with any rackets. However, some of the scuttlebutt on the street is that Peter is the brains behind the entire operation. How would that happen? How could a radio technician become the leader of a Russian gang? Generally such leadership is only acquired through force. We all know these guys are neck and neck with the Colombians for being nasty. So how could Peter make an impression on these guys? I doubt it could happen.

“Within the time frame I’ve been investigating there have been two Russian gangs that disappeared by strange events. One could form a scenario that would connect Peter to these events, but then facts start getting in the way and probabilities quickly would change just about anyone’s mind.

“There is no evidence. When you hear the facts behind his behaviors, they all make sense. The guy is so smart, yet has such a low motivation with regards to money that he appears eccentric to most of us. But, believe me; this guy is not eccentric in a pathological sense. He has everything any man could want, he has an independent means of earning a living, a cabin in the mountains, a house in the country filled with all of his toys and a loving wife who also just happens to be stunningly beautiful. Some of his success is by his own efforts, some by good fortune. None of his material items can be said to be the fruits of any illegal activities.

“On the other hand I sensed a level of circumspection. That could have come from him wanting to fuck with me. That is something I wouldn’t expect you to understand or appreciate, it’s a residual effect from being in the Navy.”

He took another draw on the pipe and reflected for a moment.

“If this guy is involved with the rackets and you want to catch him I think you would be well served to adopt the following attitude: Intellectually, this guy deserves every ounce of respect and acknowledgement that you can muster. You have to be aware this guy and all of his friends know the tactics of stealth, intelligence gathering and operating covertly in unfriendly situations and walking away unnoticed. They can pick your pocket, steal everything you own and put your wallet back and you won’t ever know what happened to you.

“You might say, ‘Well, they can’t be that good. They weren’t trained to do this.’ No, they weren’t trained. They were better than trained, they lived these scenarios: everyone from the captain to the mess cook. They lived through situations that left the weak blithering idiots. They now instinctively think in a way you can only equate to in a theoretical way. These guys are smart enough to know they leave tracks and also pragmatic enough to sacrifice the things that can tie them to the tracks.

“This is who you may be dealing with. I don’t know. It may just be like one of his friends said, ‘So he does business with a gangster. Everyone in Brooklyn does business with a gangster.’

“I’ll offer this word of caution. On the face of it, if we pursue our efforts in a standardized way and Mr. Bransford detects the least bit of interference in his life I think he will be in a position to have our lunch. We already have at least one strike against us because of the Navy flap. I don’t know for certain that we motivated the IRS audit, but they are certainly not going to want to help us. He has access to political influence. Regardless, don’t waste your time trying to bully or bluff your way into getting information. Mr. Bransford knows the difference between being caught and somebody nosing around.

“The way I see it is this. The only way Peter Bransford can be tied into this is if he has some superman-type friend who will dance to Peter’s tune. But someone can only be motivated by money or very close friendship. I have a sinking feeling in my stomach that we don’t even have a handle on who all of the players might be. That scares me, because his every move and contact has been documented for over a year and all of the people he has interacted with have been interviewed, to one degree or another.

“My report contains accounts of two situations that remain unsolved. They really aren’t federal cases unless one can make a possible RICO tie. There is a potential motivation link between them and our friends, but everything falls apart very fast when the facts are considered. From a criminalist standpoint, however, these are two very exquisite cases.

“I focused on finding the man I thought would be the most likely link in the chain. The closer I got to him, the further away I got from any criminal activities.

“Your first hunch may be smack on the money. But everything I found said no.”

Silence followed for a few minutes.

“If this was your case, what would you do?” Asked the Assistant Director.

“Pray that Peter Bransford doesn’t decide to go into criminal activities as a vocation. Keep banging away on Pavel.” Ben replied without hesitation.

Epilogue

May 21, 1999.

The Brooklyn gangs got into the fray of the Russian finance upheaval, except Pavel. They went to Chicago to watch the Yankees play the White Sox.

June 1, 1999.

During a raging thunderstorm the Jefferson, Iowa Volunteer Fire Department responds to a report at the Rawlins farm. Lightning has apparently struck the power line supplying the property and set a machine shed on fire. By the time the firefighters are on the scene the machine shed is fully aflame. The lightning must have set off some gasoline, solvents or lubricants stored in the shed. The firefighters protect the major buildings, including the decrepit house, while watching the shed burn to the ground. The remains are left to smolder. There is no investigation. Two days later Frank Lundine attached a front end loader bucket to a tractor and cleared the pad of twisted sheet metal and charred wood, taking no notice of what he loaded into a waiting dump truck. Three miles away the truck deposited the load at the county landfill.

December 23, 1999.

Thomas has the day off as Eddie, Charlie and Peter take the boat out for fishing. Peter reports he is no longer aiding Pavel with his finances. Eddie reports their net worth is in the neighborhood of 500 million. Charlie recommends leaving the bulk of it sitting for at least six years. At that time they will discuss what, if anything, to do with it.