Bobby Akart - First Strike

“What does that mean, exactly?” asked Hank.

“NSA recon birds indicate Pakistan is repositioning their nuclear-capable, road-mobile ballistic missiles. It could be a bluff, or they could be preparing to retaliate.”

There was silence on the other end of the line. Finally, Hank said, “Bottom line it for me, son.”

“Dad, the president is already on the hot seat for not coming to Israel’s aid after Iran shot first. If Pakistan does the same, and he chooses to stay out of it, this will make us look weak to Russia, China, and the North Koreans. We’ll be vulnerable to attack.”

Hank still appeared uncertain of how that impacted the U.S. or Florida. “Are you suggesting we need to be searching for a bunker?”

“No. Well, maybe. I am saying you need to know where one is. At the worst case, if war breaks out over there and we’re not drawn into it, supply lines and commerce will be disrupted worldwide. It will have a huge impact on everything, including food and gas prices, as well as availability.”

“Okay, son. Listen, I trust you. This is actually the second conversation I’ve had about this in as many days. Let me relay what you’ve said to Mike, and do you have a moment to call your sister?”

“I’m on it, Dad. Listen, you know I don’t like to interrupt you with phone calls. I’ll text if I have solid news, okay?”

“Love ya, Pete,” said Hank.

“I love you, too, Dad.”

The two men disconnected the call. Peter wandered around the lawn and thought of how he might approach his sister. She was not an alarmist and probably had a more level head than he did. He’d just lay out what he knew. It would be up to her and Owen to decide what was best for them and Tucker.

He dialed Lacey’s number and got voicemail. His chin dropped to his chest. He fired off the same text he’d sent his dad, hoping for a quick reply. After several minutes, she hadn’t, and he’d just received a text to report to the Office of Press Operations at the State Department. With a worried look on his face, he ran across C Street, dodging taxis and travelers going about their day, oblivious to the events in South Asia.

Monday, October 21

Driftwood Key

Hank hailed Sonny on the island’s two-way radio system. He told him to find Jimmy, who’d returned from the fishing trip and was on a lunch break. He wanted them to meet at the main house before he sat down alone with Phoebe to place their food and liquor orders.

While he waited for his top employees to arrive, he sat in his office and took a moment to log in to his portal on the First State Bank website. They’d been the Albright family’s bank since 1955 when they first opened an office in Key West. He navigated between the primary business checking account and his personal account.

Hank was a saver, and he’d managed the business well. Although Mike had no part of running the inn, he was an owner by virtue of inheritance. Hank made sure Mike was kept abreast of the inn’s financial affairs. Hank received a fair salary, and Mike received an annual stipend. The two brothers used to joke that Mike’s share was protection money because of his law enforcement career.

He logged out of his accounts and checked his watch. It was almost three. He could hit the branch in Islamorada before it closed at four, or for sure make his way to the drive-thru by five that afternoon. What he planned on doing couldn’t be handled by an ATM machine after hours.

Hank glanced out his office windows in the direction of the beach. He wished Erin hadn’t left with her sisters for Key West like so many others that day. They were interested in seeing what Fantasy Fest had to offer without getting caught up in the madness brought by the larger crowds as the weekend approached. Without giving away Peter’s inside information, he felt the need to talk with her about what he’d learned.

A light tapping at the door interrupted his thoughts. “Mr. Hank, can we come in?”

The door was ajar and then opened slightly. The three faces of the Free family poked through the opening from shortest, Phoebe, to tallest, Jimmy. Hank managed a smile despite his serious mood. He loved them all as if they had Albright blood running through their veins.

“Come in, guys.”

Phoebe led the way with her oversized ledger pulled tight against her chest. She’d used the same Wilson Jones ring ledger system for years. Every January, she’d set it up for the year and filed the previous year on a shelf in the outdoor storage building where cleaning supplies and other housekeeping related items were kept. Nobody entered that storage building without Phoebe unlocking it. She ran a very tight ship.

She took a seat in an armchair in front of Hank’s desk while Sonny and Jimmy sat on the rattan sofa across the spacious room. All three of them had a look of concern on their faces, as it was unusual for Hank to have a meeting such as this.

“Mr. Hank,” began Phoebe tentatively, “I hope there’s no bad news.”

“No, Phoebe. Not yet, anyway. That said, we need to do a few things. Unusual for our normal routine, but nothing that will go to waste. Let me get Sonny and Jimmy started first because they have some errands to run.”

“Okay, Mr. Hank,” said Sonny, who sat up on the edge of the sofa.

Hank spun around and pulled out two small notepads bearing the Driftwood Key Inn logo on them. They were complimentary in each guest room. He tossed them to Sonny and Jimmy along with a logo’d pen.

“This is gonna seem out of the ordinary because, well, it is. At the same time, I’ll feel better when we’re done.”

“Yes, sir,” said Jimmy.

Hank stood and paced the floor, mindlessly glancing out the windows of the corner office space as he gave instructions. He tried to process everything logically, thinking of the operations of the inn during any given day and week.

“Jimmy, you first. I need you to take every vehicle on the island. I mean trucks, personal cars, and even the golf carts. Top them all off with fuel. While you’re at it, find every available gas can and fill them up as well. Diesel, too. I want you to use a different station with each fill-up. Also, while you’re there, buy more gas and diesel cans. Fill them up, too.”

“Mr. Hank, is a hurricane coming that we didn’t know about?” asked Jimmy as he exchanged glances with his parents.

“No, not exactly. However, we’re gonna get prepared in the same way and then some.”

“Okay, how many gas cans do you want me to buy?”

“All of them,” replied Hank without emotion. Noticing the questioning looks on their faces, he added, “Just go with me on this. We need to stock up. The worst case is we’ll use it over time and this afternoon was unnecessary.”

Jimmy shrugged. “Anything else?”

“No. You’re good to go,” he replied as he looked from Jimmy to Sonny. “I’ve increased the spending limit on your debit card, so you shouldn’t have a problem.”

Jimmy rose and started out the door. “I’ll see ya later.”

Hank raised his voice slightly. “Oh, Jimmy, also buy several cases of bottled water at each stop. Again, no discussion or explanation is owed to anyone. That’s why I want you to use different stations throughout Marathon, okay?”

“Yes, Mr. Hank.”

He turned to Sonny. “I need you to contact the propane company and our gas suppliers. Fill up all the storage tanks we have on the property. Then take the boat to the marina and fill it up, too. When you get back, come find me. I’ll have a list for the Home Depot in Marathon.”

Sonny left with his marching orders, leaving Hank alone with Phoebe. Hank knew he wouldn’t be able to brush off her questions as easily as he had the others’.