Alan Cook - Run into Trouble

Melody nodded. “It’s hard to lose your spouse. Don’t you think he came to see his old military buddies?”

Drake pondered that. “As far as I know, Admiral Anderson is the only one he knows from his years in the navy. I don’t think they’re that close. I’ve heard my father say derogatory things about him.”

Melody took a drink of Gatorade while a semi rolled by; the noise from its powerful engine drowned out any attempt at conversation. Phil and Brian were running a few feet ahead of them. The wind stream that followed the truck blew the cap off Brian’s head. Drake considered ignoring it and making Brian come back and pick it up, but one thing his father had done was to train him in good manners. He reached down and grabbed the cap.

Brian waited for Drake to catch up with him and took the cap from his outstretched hand. He thanked Drake who decided to ask him a question. “What’s your take on what happened? Do you think it’s dangerous for us to run on the coast?”

Brian loped easily alongside them. He was one of the youngest runners and obviously in top condition. He and Phil were in second place overall.

“Naw. Even if that happens again, the chances we’ll be there when it does are infinitesimal.”

“Lightning can strike twice-”

“Life is a risky business.” Brian smiled. “Do you want to live forever?”

Casey had left for other climes sometime last night, according to Fred. Drake wanted to ask Casey about the meetings that had been held during the last two days. He was still trying to get a handle on what his father was up to. Why did he care? His father hadn’t cared much for him after he had strayed from the straight and narrow path carefully laid out for him. Why should he care what his father was doing?

Drake decided to ask Fred his questions. He offered to buy him a beer at the local Oxnard pub. Drake used the word pub instead of bar because Oxnard sounded a lot like Oxford in England. Being around Melody brought back the English mannerisms he had learned. Fred drove them a few blocks to a bar that was practically deserted in the late afternoon heat. Drake purchased two draft beers and took them to a rough wooden table Fred had selected.

He didn’t want Fred to know the extent of his estrangement from his father. That was none of his business. However, he could make a kind of joke out of it.

“I was wondering why my father was here meeting with your directors. He doesn’t confide in me very much. You know how fathers are.”

Fred smiled as he took a thirsty sip. “Actually, it wasn’t an official directors’ meeting since only four of the directors were present, including Casey. We’re always looking for opportunities to serve our country.”

“You’re looking for ways to boost your sales.”

“Same thing. The U.S. Government is our biggest customer.”

“What can you sell the government to fend off an invasion by sea?”

“My, you are inquisitive. One would think that you’re a stockholder.”

“I’m a taxpayer. I want to know where my tax money’s going.”

When Fred laughed, he jiggled all over like a plate of aspic salad. “We’ve developed a mini submarine that could be used to patrol the coast. It’s much less expensive to build and operate than a nuclear sub, of course, and only requires a crew of six. If there’s an enemy ship out there, these subs could be used to find it.”

“Have you sold any?”

“The Navy purchased a few to try out, but we’re trying to sell them a whole fleet.”

“What does my father have to do with all this? He’s retired, or supposed to be. He’s not a stockholder in Giganticorp, is he?”

“Giganticorp is privately held, and the names of our stockholders are confidential.”

Drake faked a yawn. “Okay, you’ve given me the company line; now tell me the truth.”

“My gosh, Drake, you’re persistent.” Fred’s smile was meant to be conspiratorial. “All right, here’s the scoop. No, Admiral Drake isn’t a stockholder. He’s a concerned citizen. He’s also a good friend of Senator Leffingwell.”

Drake didn’t know that. Leffingwell was a senator from California. Drake had tried to isolate himself from politics the last few years. His knowledge of the senator was sketchy. A small shaft of light penetrated his brain.

“He must be the member of a key Senate committee for approving military purchases.”

“You’re not as dumb as you look. There’s more. As you know, Casey is running for the other Senate seat next year.”

“He wants Leffingwell’s endorsement.”

“Bingo. Give that man a silver cigar.”

It made sense. Sort of. One thing still puzzled Drake. “How did you get my father to drive down here from Bakersfield on such short notice?”

“We told him what happened to you.”

“Nothing happened to me. It happened to Harrison and Danny.”

“No, I meant the accident with the truck. Of course, we also mentioned that you were close to the houses when they were shelled.”

“Wait a minute. You’re saying my father drove here because he was concerned about my welfare?”

“Yup.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“He’s your father, Drake. He loves you.”

“He’s got a funny way of showing it.”

Drake went to the bar and came back with two more beers. He was trying to think of how to broach the next subject. Perhaps the introduction of his father into the scheme of things gave him some leverage. He lifted his glass. “To a successful race.”

“Hear, hear.”

Fred clicked glasses with him. They each swallowed a mouthful of beer. Drake put down his glass. “I’d like to talk about something else for a minute. Since the run started, I’ve received two anonymous letters delivered to motels.”

Fred’s eyebrows went up. “Anonymous?”

His expression looked innocent.

“Yes. Threatening letters.”

“What did they say?”

“The more recent one says that Melody and I have to win the race.”

“What have you done with them?”

“The letters say not to tell anyone.”

“You’ve told me. Why don’t you give me the letters, and I’ll look into them?”

Drake no longer had the originals. Even if he had them, he wouldn’t have given them to Fred.

“I’ve stored them in a safe place. If anything happens to me, they’ll be turned over to the authorities.”

Fred regarded him. “Someone wants you to win the race.”

“You know how much chance there is of that.”

“You’ve moved into ninth place. A few more attacks and you’ll be in first place.”

Drake stared at Fred.

“Sorry. Bad joke. Look, if there’s anything I can do… I’ve tried to get you the best medical care, but I can’t run for you.”

“I just wanted you to know.”

Drake tried to look into Fred’s brain, but he was met with a bland expression that shielded his thoughts.

Fred spoke. “We’re going to step up the pace a little. Each day’s distance is going to be closer to a marathon. We don’t want to drag this out too long. Everybody’s reasonably healthy. I think you can handle it.”

“It’s not a problem for me.”

Drake wondered whether Fred had been keeping the distances down to favor him, just as Casey had ordained that the first day’s run wouldn’t count.

Today’s run goes from Oxnard Beach Park to Carpenteria State Beach in Santa Barbara County. Start by heading north on Harbor Boulevard. However, beginning today we’re going to let you decide when to run on the beach and when to run on a road. In some places along this stretch it may even be advantageous to run on the railroad tracks, but be careful of the spaces between the ties if you do this. Always watch for trains. The additional freedom should give more weight to individual tactics and make the race more competitive. Maybe we won’t see so much running by committee.