The skipper nodded. ‘Chief Skelley, if we bring any ammo back to Subic, I’m going to be very disappointed with you.’
‘Sir, I propose we use number-three five-inch mount for star shell and shoot visually as much as we can.’
It was an exercise in geometry, really. The gunnery experts – that included the commanding officer – leaned across the map and decided quickly how it would be done. Already briefed on the mission, the only change was that they had expected to do it in daylight.
‘There won’t be anybody left alive to fire on those helos, sir.’
The growler phone on the CO’s desk rang. He grabbed it. ‘Captain speaking.’
‘All four boilers are now on line, sir. Full-speed bell is thirty, flank is thirty-three.’
‘Nice to know the ChEng is all awake. Very well. Sound General Quarters.’ He hung up the phone as the ship’s gong started sounding. ‘Gentlemen, we have some Marines to protect,’ he said confidently. His cruiser’s gunnery department was as fine as Mississippi’s had ever been. Two minutes later he was back on the bridge.
‘Mr Shoeman, I have the conn.’
‘Captain has the conn,’ the OOD agreed.
‘Right-standard rudder, come to new course two-six-five.’
‘Right-standard rudder, aye, come to new course two-six-five, aye.’ Petty Officer Sam Baker rotated the wheel. ‘Sir, my rudder is right-standard.’
‘Very well,’ the Captain acknowledged, adding, ‘Surf City, here we come!’
‘Aye aye, sir!’ the helmsman hooted back. The skipper was really with it for an old fart.
It was the time for nerves now. What could go wrong? Kelly asked himself atop his hill. Lots of things. The helicopters might collide in midair. They might come right over an unknown flak site and be blotted from the sky. Some little widget or seal could let go, crashing them to the ground. What if the local National Guard was having a training exercise tonight? Something was always left to chance. He’d seen missions go wrong for any number of dumb and unpredictable reasons. But not tonight, he promised himself. Not with all this preparation. The helo crews had trained intensively for three weeks, as had the Marines. The birds had been lovingly maintained. The sailors on Ogden had invented helpful things to do. You could never eliminate risk, but preparation and training could attenuate it. Kelly made sure his weapon was in proper shape and stayed in a tight sitting position. This wasn’t sitting in a corner house in west Baltimore. This was real. This would enable him to put it all behind. His attempt to save Pam had ended in failure due to his error, but perhaps it had had a purpose after all. He’d made no mistakes for this mission. Nobody had. He wasn’t rescuing one person. He was rescuing twenty. He checked the illuminated dial of his watch. The sweep hand was moving so slowly now. Kelly closed his eyes, hoping that when he opened them it would move more quickly. It didn’t. He knew better. The former Chief of SEALs commanded himself to take a deep breath and continue the mission. For him that meant laying the carbine across his lap and concentrating on his binoculars. His reconnaissance had to continue right to the moment the first M-79 grenades were fired at the guard towers. The Marines were counting on him.
Well, maybe this would show the guys from Philly how important he was. Henry’s operation breaks down and I handle things. Eddie Morello is important, he thought, stoking the fires of his own ego as he drove up Route 40 towards Aberdeen.
Idiot can’t run his own operation, can’t get dependable people. I told Tony he was too smart for his own good, too clever, not really a serious businessman – Oh, no. he’s serious. He’s more serious than you are, Eddie. Henry is going to be the first nigger to get ‘made.’ You watch. Tony is going to do it. Can’t do it for you. Your own cousin can’t do it for you, after you connected him with Henry. Goddamned deal wouldn’t be made except for me. I made the deal but I can’t get made.
‘Fuck!’ he snarled at a red light. Somebody starts taking Henry’s operation apart and they ask me to check it out. Like Henry can’t figure things oat himself.
Probably can’t, not as smart as he thinks he is. So then what – he gets between me and Tony.
That was it, wasn’t it? Eddie thought. Henry wanted to separate me from Piaggi – just like he got them to take Angelo out. Angelo was his first connection. Angelo introduced him to me… I introduced him to Tony … Tony and I handle the connection with Philly and New York… Angelo and me were a pair of connections … Angelo was the weak one … and Angelo gets whacked…
Tony and I are another pair of connections…
He only needs one, doesn’t he? Just one connection to the rest of the outfit.
Separating me from Tony …
Fuck.
Morello fished in his pocket for a cigarette and punched the lighter on his Cadillac convertible. The top was down. Eddie liked the sun and the wind. It was almost like being out on his fishing boat. It also gave him fine visibility. That it made him somewhat easier to spot and trail hadn’t occurred to him. Next to him, on the floor, was a leather attache case. Inside that were six kilos of pure stuff. Philadelphia, they’d told him, was real short, and would handle the cutting themselves. Big cash deal. The identical case that was now southbound would be filled with nothing smaller than twenties. Two guys. Nothing to worry about. They were pros, and this was a long-term business relationship. He didn’t have to worry about a rip, but he had his snubby anyway, concealed under his loose shirt, just at his belt buckle, the most useful, most uncomfortable place.
He had to think this one through, Morello told himself urgently. He might just have it all figured out. Henry was manipulating them. Henry was manipulating the outfit. A jig was trying to outthink them.
And succeeding. Probably he whacked his own people. The fuck liked to shit all over women – especially white ones. That figured, Morello thought. They were all like that. Thought he was pretty smart, probably. Well, he was pretty smart. But not smart enough. Not anymore. It wouldn’t be hard to explain all of this to Tony. Eddie was sure of that. Make the transfer and drive back. Dinner with Tony. Be calm and reasonable. Tony likes that. Like he went to Harvard or something. Like a damned lawyer. Then we work on Henry and we take over his operation. It was business. His people would play. They weren’t in it because they loved him. They were in it for the money. Everybody was. And then he and Tony could take the operation over, and then Eddie Morello would be a made man.
Yeah. He had it all figured out now. Morello checked the time. He was right on as he pulled into the half-empty parking lot of a diner. The old-fashioned kind, made from a railroad car – the Pennsylvania Railroad was close by. He remembered his first meal out of the house with his father, in a place just like this, watching the trains go past. The memory made him smile as he finished the cigarette and flipped it onto the blacktop.
The other car pulled in. It was a blue Oldsmobile, as he’d been led to expect. The two guys got out. One carried an attache case and walked towards him. Eddie didn’t know him, but he was well-dressed, respectable, like a businessman should be, in a nice tan suit. Like a lawyer. Morello smiled to himself, not looking too obviously, in his direction while the backup man stayed at the car, watching, just to be on the safe side. Yeah, serious people. And soon they’d know that Eddie Morello was a serious man, too, he thought, with his hand in his lap, six inches from his hidden revolver.
‘Got the stuff?’
‘Got the money?’ Morello asked in return. ‘
‘You made a mistake, Eddie,’ the man said without warning as he opened the briefcase.
‘What do you mean?’ Morello asked, suddenly alert, about ten seconds and a lifetime too late.
‘I mean, it’s goodbye, Eddie,’ he added quietly. The look in his eyes said it all. Morello immediately went for his weapon, but it only helped the other man.
‘Police, freeze!’ the man shouted just before the first round burst through the opened top of the case.
Eddie got his gun out, just, and managed to fire one round into the floor of his car, but the cop was only three feet away and couldn’t possibly miss. The backup officer was already running in, surprised that Lieutenant Charon hadn’t been able to get the drop on the guy. As he watched, the attache case fell aside and the detective extended his arm, nearly placing his service revolver on the man’s chest and firing straight into his heart.