Alan Cook - Run into Trouble

“So what do you think happened?”

“One of my contacts has come up with something. All of the evidence points to one person.”

“And that is…?”

“You.”

Drake’s eyes bored into Casey’s. He was enjoying this, even though Casey had on his poker face.

“Me? Surely you jest. I’m paying you to be in this race. As they say on Perry Mason, what’s my motivation?”

Drake shrugged. “Damned if I know. But then I never did understand all the ins and outs of politics. I think I’ll have a talk with my father about this. He’s a lot more politically tuned in than I am.”

Drake continued to watch Casey. Did he see a slight change in his expression? Had he gotten to him? Casey shifted in his seat. Drake waited for him to speak. Casey took a deep breath.

“I have a confession. I really did want you in the race. When we approached you, you agreed to run, but not with the wholehearted enthusiasm of most of the other runners. I was afraid you’d fall behind and drop out. I needed a way to get you to stay. I decided to frighten you into thinking that someone from your past was trying to hurt you, and that the safest place for you was in the race.”

“Frighten me? Hurt me? You damn near killed me.”

“That was a terrible mistake. The truck driver was overzealous. I just wanted him to bump the taxi-to give you a warning. He didn’t get the right message. Look, I want to make it up to you. Starting today, I’m going to double your per diem to two thousand dollars-a thousand apiece.” He managed a smile. “I’m sure you won’t have to mention any of this to your father.”

It was concession time. Drake would be a fool not to milk it. “There’s one other thing you can do.”

“What’s that?”

“Give Melody and me a tour of the submarine.”

“It’s off-limits.”

“Melody and I both had top secret clearances, as I’m sure you know. You’ve got a lot of strings you can pull. It’s not too much to ask. How about after dinner?”

Casey appeared to be thinking that over.

“You drive a hard bargain. I’ll see what I can arrange.”

Casey excused himself and went to a payphone.

The boat was moored in a corner of the Monterey marina, surrounded by makeshift tarpaulins to hide it from the view of the common people, and guarded by armed sailors in uniform who patrolled the pier leading to it. Casey had apparently talked to the right authorities, because when he flashed his badge to the naval officer in charge, he was waved through, along with Drake and Melody.

Drake wondered what the officer thought about Casey escorting a man casually dressed in civilian clothes and a pretty, miniskirted blond. Melody’s youthful good looks had gotten her into places when they worked together that would have been denied to somebody who aroused suspicions.

The boat looked larger than Drake remembered, but he had seen it from a distance. It probably could hold a crew of six, perhaps more. A makeshift gangplank had been extended from the pier to the boat.

Melody was glad she had worn flat shoes with nonskid soles. She and Drake had decided to attempt to find a way to see the boat up close, and so they were prepared. Even the short skirt was part of the plan. When they reached the boat, they had to descend a metal-runged ladder to the interior.

Drake said, “Let Melody go first so we won’t be looking up her skirt.”

Melody didn’t wait for Casey’s consent; she swung her foot onto a rung and climbed down as fast as she could. At the bottom she found herself in what must be the control room. The interior lights were turned on; it should be bright enough. She reached into her bra and pulled out a tiny Minox camera that she had used for her work in England. She had brought it to California because it was the only camera she owned.

She began snapping pictures as fast as she could, trying to photograph the instruments and the dials, and anything else that might be of interest. She kept an eye on the ladder. When she saw Drake’s legs appear next, she continued shooting. Drake’s head came into sight; he gave her an encouraging nod.

When Casey’s legs appeared on the ladder, she stopped shooting and slipped the camera back inside her bra. When the rest of him followed, she smiled at him. “This is a lovely boat. But how do the men stand to live in here? Everything’s so tiny.”

It pained Melody to have to talk like a clueless female, but she had to keep Casey from getting suspicious.

“Submariners can’t have claustrophobia.”

Drake was inspecting what must be the periscope. “I understand that Giganticorp is developing a submarine similar to this. Can you explain what all this stuff is for?”

Casey could and did. He showed them how a pair of torpedoes were stored and fired. The gun that had lobbed the shells onto the beach was kept inside the sub and raised when it surfaced. They toured the sleeping quarters where you had to be good friends with your bunkmates. They saw a small galley. Drake was interested to note that any food that had been stored there had apparently been taken off the sub when the crew mysteriously disappeared. The crew hadn’t left any clothing or other personal belongings either.

Casey’s knowledge of the sub was so extensive that Drake became suspicious. Casey said he had been briefed by the people who had inspected it, because Giganticorp was also developing a mini-submarine. But his wealth of information went beyond that. There was almost a fatherly pride in Casey’s voice when he talked about all the gadgets and technological wonders.

Drake distracted Casey so that Melody could take some more pictures. She managed to get a few, but she figured that the ones she had taken initially in the control room were the most important. When they exited the boat, Casey and Drake gallantly went up the ladder first, which allowed Melody to take more shots in the control room. She adjusted the distance control, trying to ensure maximum sharpness and duplicated some of her earlier pictures. She knew she’d better stop when she heard Casey’s voice from above.

“Are you coming up?”

“Coming.” Melody once more shoved the camera into her bra and climbed the ladder. “I wanted to take one last look. I’ve never been in a real submarine before.”

Casey offered her a hand to help her from the ladder to the gangplank, although she didn’t really need it. He gave her a patronizing smile.

“I’m sure you’re more suited to life on a cabin cruiser, but it’s always fun to see how other people live.”

Drake stifled a yawn.

Slick said, “Are we keeping you up?”

“Damn right. Don’t forget-we have to run a marathon every day.”

“Sorry. Somehow I figured that saving the country from idiots might be more important.”

Drake had called Blade collect from a payphone as soon as they left Casey. When Blade heard about the pictures, he told them that Slick was still in the Monterey area and would meet them in thirty minutes.

He even had praise for Drake. “I take back every bad thing I’ve ever said about you. You’ve managed to gather more information than Slick has. The military is a tight organization, and it’s difficult for outsiders like us to break into it.”

“Credit Melody and her short skirt. Without her we couldn’t have done it.”

“I won’t touch that line with a redwood tree, but give her my thanks. I always said she was too good for you.”

Drake and Melody had parked on a residential street and waited for Slick’s Porsche to park behind them. He had slipped into the backseat of their sedan where Melody gave him the roll of film. Then they filled him in on what they had observed on the submarine. He also seemed impressed.