The Eighty-eighth Key Ch. 23

"Excuse me, sir," an old woman said to him, "but you dropped this."

"Oh!" Callahan said, patting his coat pocket. "Thanks very much!"

He pocketed the five dollar bill and went to his seat and drank his coffee, then got up and went to the head. Once in a stall he read the message from his controller, committed the address to memory, then flushed the banknote into the sea.

He still hadn't picked up anything that even hinted at a tail, but suddenly he felt a nagging suspicion tugging at his coattails...'be careful...be very careful right now...'

And Colonel Goodman had warned them all, and more than once: when you felt that nagging doubt in your mind's eye, there was no doubt at all.

And as simple as that, he knew he was blown.

As the ferry docked he went to the rail to watch the soft kiss of home, and there he ran his fingers through his hair once, then scratched his right ear a moment later - signaling his handler to abort the meeting.

He walked down to Fisherman's Wharf and grabbed a bowl of chowder, then made his way back to the ferry and returned home.

_______________________________

When he unlocked the door to his apartment he immediately knew someone had been inside while he was away. An unwanted smell, perhaps? Lingering body odor, maybe one cigarette too many? It didn't matter, though, did it?

Why would anyone be tailing him, unless...?

And why would anyone search his apartment, unless...?

Unless he was blown?

And there, in his little living room, sat Danson...

...and three mean-looking hoods.

"Whereya been?" Danson asked.

"Went over to the city for some chowder."

"Any good?"

"Yeah, I guess. One of the guys at work told me about this place..."

"Oh, where's that?"

"Scoma's," 'Mason' said, looking Danson in the eye. "Over by..."

"I know where it is," Danson replied, only a little too brusquely. "Look, we got a shipment coming in...a biggie...so let's go - I don't wanna be late."

Mason nodded and followed the men out the door, still very much aware this might be a hit...then they walked to a beat-up Dodge four-door parked a block away and told him to drive again.

"Back to Hayward?" he asked.

"No, over to the city," one of the other men said, this one speaking with a very pronounced 'south of the border' accent.

"Man, I don't know my way around over there..." Mason said as he looked at Danson's eyes in the rearview mirror.

"Don't worry about it."

"Well, how do I get to the bridge?"

Danson sighed, more than a little put out now, then he told Mason to pull over. "You stay up front, but I'm drivin'," was all he said, and after they crossed the bridge Callahan figured they were headed to Half Moon Bay, and probably to the little general aviation airport down by the water. He leaned back and closed his eyes, and soon fell asleep...

Only to jerk wide-awake as the Dodge rattled over a speed bump.

"You know what, buddy? You snore, and I mean you really snore."

"Sorry," Harry said as the Dodge pulled up to what looked like a brand new stretched Bell JetRanger.

"You ever flown one of these?"

"Nope."

"Well, I hear it's just like a Huey..."

"But..."

"But nothin', Mason. You're either our pilot or you're not, got it?"

Harry nodded then followed Danson and one of the others over to the Bell, his stomach now in acid-drenched knots. He saw a battery cart hooked-up port-side and a fuel truck that was just pulling away as he climbed-in, and using a penlight he felt more comfortable after a quick scan of the overhead panel. He put on a headset and flipped on the main bus then switched over to the external power cart; when he saw volts were holding steady he powered up the radios and interior lights...then looked at the fuel tanks...

"How far out we goin'?"

"We got plenty of gas, Mason. Don't sweat it, buddy..."

And that reply only made his stomach knot even more. He burped once...bile filling his throat.

He started the turbine and then switched to internal power, gave a hand-signal to the kid out on the ramp to unplug the cart as he watched pressures and temps build...

"Got a rough heading for me?"

"West," a rough-looking guy obviously from south of the border said. And this one looked familiar now, too. He'd been on the first trip...?

"Two-seven-zero it is." He looked aft and saw that Danson wasn't onboard; indeed, it was only himself and this 'Mexican' Svengali.

"I hear you do pretty good at keepin' low, man. So...keep real low for now."

Callahan nodded as he added power and collective, and as soon as the little ship was about twenty feet AGL he nosed over smoothly and turned west. They roared over a small trailer park and past a huge radome, then he dove sharply after they passed a huge cliff that faced the sea - and then he settled-in about twenty feet over the waves...

"Make your speed like one-forty, okay mano?"

"Got it."

Callahan scanned the wave tops as the ship skimmed the sea, his eyes hitting the instruments one by one - but only briefly... One second of lost concentration out here in the dark and at this speed there wouldn't even be an oil slick to mark the point of impact...

After about a half-hour his companion broke the silence: "Okay, you can ease it up now, go up to a couple hundred feet."

"Thanks." And Callahan did ease up - a little.

Then the guy reached up and flipped on the rotating beacon, and Harry watched the clock intently - because after thirty seconds the guy turned them off again...

And as suddenly a small ship lit up, and, in the overwhelming darkness, it looked like the ship was afloat high in the sky...disorienting Callahan for a second and taking him back to that mad flight from Hue out to the Constellation...so many years ago...

"They will be heading into the wind, Amigo. You see the pad?"

And Harry saw it as he circled the ship in the darkness, almost amidships and with the orange triangle marked with a big yellow 'H'...

Harry continued this wide, arcing approach then he came up alongside the ship's starboard side, bleeding speed with his nose up about five degrees until the Bell had matched the ship's speed. When he was settled amidships he slipped left until he was over the pad, still matching the ship's speed, and only then did he flare gently, settling onto the 'H' with not even the slightest hesitation.

"You are a very good pilot, señor. Very good indeed. The last pilot we had couldn't do what you just did."

Men on deck hooked up a power cart and Callahan cut the engine, then switched to external power. One of the crewmen ran a static discharge pole to the rotors and then another ran out with a fuel bowser, refueling the Bell out at sea. When that was done the port-side passenger door slid open and a gang of men began tossing black duffel bags into the cabin...

"Got any idea how much all that crap weighs?" Harry asked.

"Just enough, Amigo. Believe me, I have seen the sharks out here, and I have no desire to swim with them."

Harry nodded. "Swell."

"So, your name is Mason?"

Harry nodded. "Yup."

"Well, Mason, my name is Pablo. Pablo Escobar. Nice to meet you."

Harry looked down at the man's offered hand and he took it. "Yeah man, you too."

And Pablo laughed at that. "Mano, you can relax now. You passed my little test."

"Passed?"

"Yeah. The last guy? The one that couldn't land out here? Well, next trip out was his last."

And now Harry laughed. "Well, Pablo, I'm not exactly a great swimmer..."

"Neither was he."

"Man, I'm gettin' hungry...how about you...?"

And now it was Pablo's turn to laugh: "Me too, Mason. Me too..."

________________________________

Avi's head of detail walked into the CICU not really knowing what to say, let alone how he was going to break the news to his boss - who was if nothing else his very best friend, not to mention a man he looked up to. He walked over to one of the nurses and questioned her about the best way to...

"He can't handle anything like this, sir. I mean it... You do it and you might as well kiss his ass goodbye."

"I see. By the way, let his physicians know that the drug they wanted will be arriving in about five hours. One of my men will be carrying it in from Intercontinental."

The nurse looked at Lev and her eyes blinked rapidly. "How did you..."

"Please, don't ask."

"Okay, I won't. But Dr. Cooley sure will."

"I'm sure he will. May I speak to Avi now?"

"Just for a minute..."

Lev gowned up, then slipped on a face mask and gloves before he entered the little room, and his ears popped when the door closed behind him.

"So," Avi said, looking him in the eye, "you bring news? Is it bad?"

"No, my friend. Harry is well, and even now von Karajan is putting on the finishing touches. The premiere is scheduled for the first of June."

"And, how is my Imogen, Lev?"

"She has been asleep, medications I think?"

"Chemo? Has it begun?"

"I have not heard, Avi..."

And then the old man looked into Lev's eyes...and he knew.

"You were never a good liar, my friend," Avi whispered.

"I can not see through people with your skill, sir."

Avi nodded, then he seemed to relax. "When you next see Harry, please give him the package, would you? And tell him I very much wanted him to attend the premiere. It will mean something to him if I am not mistaken."

"I will tell Colonel Goodman, my friend."

And again Avi nodded his head. "If I am not mistaken, Lev, God is calling me now. You will pardon me for leaving you, but..."

Lev took his friend's hand and held it close while Avi passed, then he went to the foot of the bed and began the El Maleh Rachamim, the Hebrew Prayer for the Dead...

__________________________________

© 2020 adrian leverkühn | abw | and as always, thanks for stopping by for a look around the memory warehouse...[and now, a brief note on sources: I typically don't post all a story's acknowledgments until I've finished, if only because I'm not sure how many I'll need until work is finalized. Yet with current circumstances (a little virus, not to mention a certain situation in Washington, D.C. springing first to mind...) so waiting to mention sources might not be the best way to proceed. To begin, the primary source material in this case - so far, at least - derives from two seminal Hollywood 'cop' films: Dirty Harry and Bullitt. The first Harry film was penned by Harry Julian Fink, R.M. Fink, Dean Riesner, John Milius, Terrence Malick, and Jo Heims. Bullitt came primarily from the author of the screenplay for The Thomas Crown Affair, Alan R Trustman, with help from Harry Kleiner, as well Robert L Fish, whose short story Mute Witness formed the basis of Trustman's brilliant screenplay. Steve McQueen's grin was never trade-marked, though perhaps it should have been. John Milius (Red Dawn) penned Magnum Force, and the 'Briggs'/vigilante storyline derives from characters and plot elements originally found in that rich screenplay, as does the Captain McKay character. The Threlkis crime family storyline was first introduced in Sudden Impact, screenplay by Joseph Stinson. The Samantha Walker character derives from the Patricia Clarkson portrayal of the television reporter found in The Dead Pool, screenplay by Steve Sharon, story by Steve Sharon, Durk Pearson, and Sandy Shaw. I have to credit the Jim Parish, M.D., character first seen in the Vietnam segments to John A. Parrish, M.D., author of the most fascinating account of an American physician's tour of duty in Vietnam - and as found in his autobiographical 12, 20, and 5: A Doctor's Year in Vietnam, a book worth noting as one of the most stirring accounts of modern warfare I've ever read (think Richard Hooker's M*A*S*H, only featuring a blazing sense of irony conjoined within a searing non-fiction narrative). Denton Cooley, M.D. founded the Texas Heart Institute, as mentioned. Many of the other figures in this story derive from characters developed within the works cited above, but keep in mind that, as always, this story is in all other respects a work of fiction woven into a pre-existing historical fabric. Using the established characters referenced above, as well as a few new characters I've managed to come up with here and there, I hoped to create something new - perhaps a running commentary on the times we've shared? And the standard disclaimer also here applies: no one mentioned in this tale should be mistaken for persons living or dead. This was just a little walk down a road more or less imagined, and nothing more than that should be inferred, though I'd be remiss not to mention Clint Eastwood's Harry Callahan, and Steve McQueen's Frank Bullitt. Talk about the roles of a lifetime...given shape and life by two actors who will stand tall through the ages.]