Without remorse - Tom Clancy [306]
'There's a shower that way. Why not get her cleaned up? You may also wish to get her some decent things to wear. Give us the bill.'
'A pleasure doing business with you. Captain Joy,' he said as the barracks commander left for Freeland's car.
'Ben, you really fell into something. You handled her real nice. I won't forget. Now show me how fast this beast goes.'
'You got it, Cap'n.' Freeland engaged the lights before passing seventy. They made it to the dock just as the Coast Guard turned out of the main channel.
The man wore lieutenant's bars - though he called himself a captain - and Oreza saluted him as he came aboard. Both police officers were given life jackets to wear because Coast Guard regulations required them on small boats, and then Joy showed him the chart.
'Think you can get in there?'
'No, but our launch can. What gives?'
'A possible triple homicide, possible drug involvement. We overflew the area this morning. There's a fishing boat right here.'
Oreza nodded as impassively as possible and took the wheel himself, pushing the throttles to the stops. It was a bare five miles to the graveyard - that was how Oreza thought of it - and he plotted his approach as carefully as possible.
'No closer? The tide's in,' Freeland said.
'That's the problem. Place like this, you go it at low water so's in case you beach you can float off. From here on we use the launch.' Wheels were turning in his mind while his crewmen got the fourteen-foot launch deployed. Months earlier, that stormy night with lieutenant Charon from Baltimore, a possible drug deal that he'd expected to take place somewhere on the Bay. Some real serious guys, he'd told Portagee. Oreza already wondered if there might be a connection.
They motored in, powered by a ten-horse outboard. The quartermaster took note of the tidal flow, following what appeared to be a channel that meandered generally in the direction indicated by their marked-up chart. It was quiet in here, and Oreza remembered his tour of duty for Operation market time, the Coast Guard's effort to assist the Navy in Vietnam. He'd spent time with the brown-water guys, running Swift boats manufactured right in Annapolis by the Trumpy Yard. It was so similar, the tall grass that could, and often did, conceal people with guns. He wondered if they might be facing something similar soon. The cops were fingering their revolvers, and Oreza asked himself, too late, why he hadn't brought a Colt with him. Not that he knew how to use it. His next thought was that this would have been a good place to have Kelly with him. He wasn't quite sure what the story was on Kelly, but he suspected the man was one of the SEALs, with whom he'd worked briefly in the Mekong Delta. Sure as hell he'd gotten that Navy Cross for something, and the tattoo on his arm wasn't there by accident.
'Well, damn,' Oreza breathed. 'Looks like a Starcraft sixteen... no, more like eighteen.' He lifted his portable radio. 'Four-One Alpha, this is Oreza.'
'Reading you, Portagee.'
'We got the boat, right where they said. Stand by.'
'Roger.'
Suddenly things got very tense indeed. The two cops exchanged a look, wondering why they hadn't brought more people out. Oreza eased his launch right up to the Starcraft. The cops got aboard gingerly.
Freeland pointed to the back. Joy nodded. There were six cement blocks and a rolled-up section of nylon netting. Xantha hadn't lied about that. There was also a rope ladder going up. Joy went first, his revolver in his right hand. Oreza just watched as Freeland followed. Once they got to the deck, the men wrapped both hands around their handguns and headed for the superstructure, disappearing from view for what seemed like an hour, but in reality was only four minutes. Some birds scattered aloft. When Joy came back, his revolver wasn't visible.
'We have three bodies up here, and a hell of a large quantity of what looks like heroin. Call your boat, have them tell my barracks