Maxwell returned to the post to see what else he could help with since the radio men were in their own little world of hertz and bands for the moment as they plotted how best to nullify what was going on. The maintenance boom truck had just arrived at the post as well as the engineer in charge of the bridge structure.
Gregory Mack, was dressed in his usual woodland camouflage BDU pants and an oversize T-shirt with a large Yellow Labrador on the front. The shirt, a XXXL did a poor job of masking the fact that he was massively built from his years of weight lifting. He preferred to be called “Greg” and had been working for the Mackinaw Bridge Authority for about 3 years. He had grown up wanting to be an engineer and work with bridges ever since his father had helped him with a 4th grade school project in which he had to build a bridge out of Popsicle sticks. The bridge had to hold ten pounds while suspended between two points. His dad, an engineering school drop out had shown him what triangles and trapezoids could do in the right proportions with the right placement and a little glue. Not only did it hold the required 10 pounds, it never broke when the teacher maxed it out at 50 pounds.
Greg was hooked. He was a 4.0 grade point through high school and then at college at Michigan Tech, one of the best engineering schools in the country. He had a dual major in both Mechanical and Chemical engineering along with several extra courses and minors in Architecture and structural designs. After getting out of school he had a few different jobs but never got to do anything with bridges until he saw the opening for the Mackinaw Bridge position. At the interview he told the Bridge Authority interview team, “With the last name of Mack who else could you hire?” That and the best qualifications for the job got him hired. He had spent the next 3 years going over every nook, cranny, bolt and rivet of the great old bridge. He walked cable lines with the maintenance people with the aplomb of someone who had worked high steel all of his life. He would even take care of changing the flashing warning lights on top of the towers 500 feet over the Lake if no one else was around to do it. For an engineer he was more than just an egghead pencil pusher. Within 3 years time no one knew the bridge better than he did. As he walked into the post to introduce himself Phelps noticed him almost immediately, there was an air of familiarity to him.
Greg and Max knew each other from seeing each other around so
Maxwell made the appropriate introductions. When he got to Phelps, Phelps asked him if his father used to be a police officer, his response was “Yes, Gary Mack is my dad and he used to be an officer”. Phelps advised Greg that he had worked with his dad on a couple of occasions when he was assigned to a State Police drug task force. Messler and then Palmer both realized that they too knew Greg’s dad. Messler had met him once just briefly when he was a new troop. He was wondering who in the hell was the dirtbag walking free in the post when he saw him the first time. He just KNEW this guy couldn’t be anything but a crook. It was only when the post commander came up and started talking to Mack and then was introduced to the young trooper that he was saved the embarrassment of confronting the undercover officer. Later on he had heard stories about
Mack when he was in uniform, about the fights, about the shootings, and the attitude with which he worked his area. Some of the stories would have been written off as pure fabrication if there hadn’t been so many witnesses to what had taken place.
One night when Messler was still a “cub”, a new trooper, he had seen Mack leaving the post and his curiosity got the better of him. He walked up to one of the senior troopers and asked him, “What’s the deal with that city guy” is he as bad as they say?” The troop looked at him and said, “I've been with Gary when it was bad, I mean armpit deep in *******s and blood. All I can tell you young trooper is do not EVER **** that man off.”
The first time Palmer had met Gary Mack was a night when Palmer was also a new trooper out on his own. He had chased a car into the ghetto in the city where Mack worked and didn’t know for sure where he was. The guy Palmer was chasing then wrecked his car and took off on foot. Palmer got out one call for assistance on the radio before he caught up to the guy to arrest him, or, try to. The guy Palmer was grabbing onto was a known drug dealer in the area but not to Palmer, he was also the size of a small car. Palmer grabbed onto him and got swung around behind the guy. He then was taken for a ride. They eventually crashed through a screen door into the interior of the house where there were a whole bunch of people who don’t like police and they were “doing their thing”.
Mack had responded to the area, found the patrol car and tracked Palmer down by means of the debris and the yelling going on. Palmer had just been shook off of his people ride when Mack arrived. Palmer’s first view of Mack was as he came bursting into the house like an animal barely under control. He roared orders at everyone in the house and everyone came to a stand still, even Palmer. He turned to him and asked, “Who do you want troop?” He just sort of indicated the walking refrigerator, Mack looked at the guy and ordered him to grab the kitchen counter top. The mountain grabbed on with great gusto and froze. Mack asked for Palmer’s cuffs, locked up the big man and then asked “Anyone else?” Palmer just shook his head no. On the way back to the car, hoping the guy would fit in the back seat he introduced himself to Mack, thanked him profusely knowing that if Mack didn’t save his life he certainly saved him from a serious ass kicking. He then said “I’ve got to ask you, how did you do it? I was fighting with all I had and telling him and them to stop and nothing worked. Why did they listen to you?” While helping to put the prisoner in the car Mack simply replied “These people know me. They know I don’t **** with them unless they have it coming. They also know that I will make a public service message out of them if I have to.” When Palmer said he didn’t understand Mack told him “You make an extreme example out of someone, the rest of the public gets the message”.
Phelps, told Greg “I always had a great deal of respect for your dad, what did he do after he left the drug team?” Greg replied, “Well, you know he had his law degree, so he took a job as a prosecutor where we lived up North. He was feeling guilty about being away for so much of the time while my brother Chris and I were growing up. He didn’t like being a prosecutor but he would never enter private practice. He said that he met and worked with a nicer class of people when he was buying and selling drugs for a living than when he was stuck in a courthouse dealing with most of the lawyers and some of the judges all day. After Chris finished college and he felt his obligations were done he just packed up one day and said “I need some time” then told my mom he would be back, took what he could fit in his pickup and left. Last I talked to him was about a month ago.
He’s living on a boat somewhere in Alaska. My brother is into climbing and dad promised him some nasty mountain and glacier experience so that’s where they are last I heard. My mother sold off the house and everything else and moved to Florida with her mother and her sister. The folks are still married. I know he calls her from time to time.”
Chris Brown was really sweating it now. The post phones were ringing off the hook from calls from news services wanting to know what the hell was going on. At first the idea was kicked around about claiming a toxic spill but then the place should be swarming with workers in moon suits. A mechanical break down of the truck would not be realistic. Bio-chemical hazard, back to moon suits. Then finally he had an idea.
Call it what it was, a truck full of explosives just broken down that have to be handled very carefully, just nothing about the terrorist crap. That would handle it all. It was approved and went out on the wire to get the heat off of them and the spectators back from the bridge.
“So”, Greg asked, “what brings all you folks here and what’s all the excitement about?” Phelps laid it out in straight forwards terms. “We think there is an extremely large explosive device in the truck parked across the center of the bridge. We have received a ransom demand and we need you to see if there is anything we can do to lessen the damage if it does go off. Also, what kind of damage will we expect to the bridge if it does go off.” Greg started asking questions. “Do you know what kind of explosives you are dealing with and what are the pressure wave parameters. Also, what kind of charges are we dealing with? Are they shaped, platter or just bulk?” Phelps and Palmer both wondered about these questions with kind of blank looks on their faces. Seeing the quandary, Greg advised “You had to know my dad, he started teaching me about explosives when I was in high school. I was using det cord, and dynamite before I was dating.”
After hearing that Palmer showed him the pictures and gave him the explanation of what he thought of the bomb and its effectiveness. After seeing the pictures Greg thought about the whole situation and said “Well, let’s go out to the bridge and have a look at it.” Phelps had wandered back to see how it was going and heard the statement. He said “No, you can’t go out there you’re a civilian and it’s too dangerous.” Greg looked at him and replied ”Look, you need me to see what can and can’t be done. If they were going to blow the bridge they would have done it. I have to see where it is in relation to the structure in order to assess the potential damage. Are you coming?” Then
addressing Lt. Palmer he said “Bring those pictures of how it is placed in the semi so I can see exactly how it sits in relation to the bridge structure” and then was on his way out the door. Phelps saw him leave, looked at Palmer and said “You can tell he’s Mack’s kid. Go with him before he picks up that truck and throws it off the bridge himself.”
CHAPTER 19
Greg Mack, Palmer, Messler and Maxwell went out to the semi and joined the radio technicians. The boom truck was next to the semi and Bill was on the crane over the trailer. So far the voice had not raised an objection to the activities. Before Greg started his task Bill came down off of his boom truck and called over Messler and Palmer to advise them of his suspicions. “See those little smoked glass looking things placed all over the trailer? I think they are covers for those digital chipboard cameras. I've also seen what look like little condenser mikes in place of rivet heads around the trailer. I can’t guarantee it but I think some of these radios are microwave and are beaming out real time video and audio of everything going on around the trailer. Smile, we are on candid camera.”
Greg looked at the position of the semi and seemed worried. He studied the pictures of the semi interior and compared them to where the trailer was sitting. After being on the bridge for 3 years he knew everything there was to know about the bridge substructure and the superstructure. While looking at the pictures he asked Palmer if there was any idea what was in the 55 gallon drums that were stacked in the corners of the trailer? Palmer alluded to the list of chemicals that were itemized in the list retrieved from the truck. Greg told Palmer that along with explosives background from his dad he also had a degree in chemical engineering as well and could he see the list.
After looking at the list, Greg looked at Palmer and ran off a list of chemicals and mixture percentages that only he and Palmer understood as the others looked on. Finally, he asked Palmer if he knew what the chemicals would do if mixed appropriately. When Palmer admitted he did Greg said “You know if there is as much of that brew in that trailer as it looks, then it’s not only the road and substructure we have to worry about. See the direction of the cones if they are shaped charges then with the placement of the barrels, they can actually use each other to increase the total amount of over pressure from that blast if it were to occur. There would probably be an overpressure wave traveling in the 20,000-25,000 feet per second range. With the capacity of the volume from the barrels and the proximity to the main support cables there is a real chance that the plates set in front of the charges would have the ability to slice through the suspension cables and the casing. Then if accurate enough and any of those other plates hit one of the support towers, it could crack a tower. With the release of balancing pressure from the suspension system and the integrity of the concrete damaged or penetrated by one of those plates”…. he let it hang. “If that happened it would bring down everything between the towers and maybe even the towers themselves. There is no guarantee that it wouldn’t happen anyway. The towers are holding the strain of the cables. If the suspension system was cut all at once, the resulting stress would be like releasing a giant rubber band. The violence of the release of tension may bring down the towers anyway, even if they aren’t hit by anything. There would be enough steel and concrete in the shipping channel to close the Straits for weeks, maybe even months if demolition crews weren’t allowed to simply blast away all the obstructions”
Palmer and Greg returned to the post to advise Phelps of the situation. Phelps needed to know some answers so he could advise the Governor of the best and worst case scenarios. He also wanted to have an idea if the structure would be put out of service and if so how long as well as an idea of how much to repair the damage. Greg advised that periodically there was a revue done for just such emergency situations such as an errant plane or freighter doing lots of damage. There had never been any contingency planning on the scale that this potential event would require to repair.
Greg went to the large case he had brought into the post and pulled out a set of blue prints of the main bridge structure. He pointed out the main support cross beams and substructures. He indicated that the position of the truck was almost perfect to maximize the amount of damage to the entire span. “With the way those projectile plates show up in the pictures, there is no question that every major I beam and bridge brace would be sheared through. Along with the pressure wave generated by thousands of pounds of explosives with the way the drums are placed, the shock waves hitting the vertical supports at the same time the road is being cut, who knows, maybe we lose the towers maybe not, even if they don’t come down the cracking will probably be so severe that they most likely will have to come down anyway.” Phelps asked the question no one wanted to ask. “What would it cost to fix and how long would it be out of service, best guess?”
Greg pulled out his calculator and ran numbers for about a minute. looked up and said “If the bomb goes and we get all the breaks without tower and serious suspension cable damage but the road structure is destroyed, figure the bridge will be out of service a minimum of 6-10 months unless 24 hour a day schedules and work shifts are run then might be able to do it in 4-5 months. Costs anyway you cut it would be a minimum of $400 million. All the steel in the adjoining area and the welds and rivets would have to be x-rayed because of the potential damage due to shock. All the concrete would have to be drilled and tested and then patched, lots of work to even make a minimal situation back to normal. Worst case scenario, the towers go, the suspension cables have to be replaced, we are looking at $800-900 million as an absolute minimum and a year to a year and a half. If we have to design a replacement bridge, clear the old one away and build new, and we can get away from all the environmental requirements of the State and Feds for such a project, we are looking at probably 3 years or so and about $1-1 1/2 billion and change. If we have to deal with all the environmental issues then all bets are off and we had better plan on going back to car ferries”. Phelps was not looking forward to making that call to the Governor.
Phelps contacted the Governor by way of his aide. The aide wanted all the details before putting Phelps through. Phelps had been up too long and in the business too long to put up with that petty bull**** and told the aide that the Governor could call him back when he had the time. The aide immediately responded the Governor would take the call and put him through. “Well, have you got it figured out? Have you got it all handled?” asked the Governor. Phelps looked at the phone then bit his tongue. He had over 30 years in with his military time buy in option and could leave with his full pension anytime. Today might be the day. “Governor”, he started “we are still trying to figure out just what we are facing. We believe a terrorist group known as the Black Eagle Group has created the truck bomb. We have only had the one request for money from the person who calls claiming to be the responsible person. The amount they want right now is $100 million dollars. The governor roared in shock at the sum of money saying we will NEVER pay anything for someone threatening to damage the bridge. What’s the worst that could go wrong?”
Phelps replied, “What I can tell you is that we have the bridge engineer here and he says if the bomb goes off the least damage we could expect is $300 million and out of service 4 months (may as well put the best spin forward I can for now) “ Totally unacceptable” yelled the Governor at Phelps as he continued “that is the best case, the worst case is $1 billion plus and no bridge for 3 years”, further, that has nothing to do with the economic damage the State would suffer as a result of the loss of the bridge.” Thought Phelps, “I’ll bet that made your ******* pucker”. The Governor told Phelps he would get back with him.
Governor Arkie was not a brave man. He had achieved his height of power by never making a decision without checking a poll and having a test sample of voters contacted and asked “What if the governor did this?” Then, depending on response he would decide. The economy was strong so no one noticed that he was just along for the ride. He was not going to be able to take a pre-poll on this one before a decision was made. He called in his toady Brent Edwards, who sucked up better than a dustbuster. Arkie, ever the coward had to talk to someone. He told Brent about the conversation with Phelps and then asked “What can I do?” If I don’t pay and the bomb blows the bridge I am the Governor who let it happen and I cost the taxpayers millions. If I pay the extortion I am the guy who caved and cost the taxpayers millions. “What the **** do I do?” Brent possessed a Masters in Political Science. He also was smart enough to know because of his weasel personality he couldn’t get elected to a dog fight but he also knew that he could in essence be the governor by leading this one where ever he wanted. After giving it a few minutes thought Brent smiled at Arkie and said “No one can blame you for anything if the US Government came in and took over then something bad happened. It would be their fault, and if something good happens it was because your leadership came up with the saving solution for the people of the State". Arkie mulled it over for a second, gave a slight smile, straightened his tie a little and said to Brent “get the FBI on the phone.” “Very good decision sir”
CHAPTER 20
The phone rang in the FBI operations center in Detroit and woke the duty officer from his nap at the desk. It was a Monday after a large Federal holiday weekend and he knew it would be late in the day before the big Federal machine roused itself out of the long weekend vacation and got into gear. No one ever called the FBI at this time of day. Only the most junior agents or agents in the doghouse had the night watch duties. Clearing his throat before answering the phone Agent Smith answered the phone on the 3rd ring. The high pitched whine on the other end identified itself as the aide to the Governor of the State of Michigan. (yeah, right) thought Smith. He asked Brent what could the FBI do for him? Seconds later not only did Brent have the attention of Smith but Smith was charged with adrenaline. Wow, he thought, if this works out I might be able to get back on days. He got a call back number for the Aide and advised that he would be contacted by senior agents shortly.
Smith checked the location roster that kept track of every command person in the Bureau above the rank of section chief to see which high ranking person was closest to the scene. He discovered that Deputy Director Abbot, the number two ranking person directly under the Director was in Detroit that weekend and he punched in the contact numbers to his hotel. The FBI was different from most government bureaucracies these days. Division level and higher personnel were apprised of situations immediately and then they decided how far down the food chain assignments would go versus working up from the bottom. Ever since the debacles of Ruby Ridge and Waco, when field personnel made some horrible decisions, such as the shoot on sight rules of engagement at Ruby Ridge that cost Vicky Weaver her life, the FBI had tried very hard to rebuild its tarnished image. The command staff decided that they would forgo a little sleep as opposed to letting someone farther down the chain of command make a decision that would reflect badly on their still questionable image.
Harold Abbot answered the hotel phone on the 6th ring after untangling himself from the arms and legs of the very junior female agent who was sharing his bed with him while he was out making his “inspection” over the weekend. One of the perks of being a Deputy Director was the ability to plan field trips when the wife would be otherwise occupied in another part of the country. “Abbott” he growled into the phone. Smith detailed out the information that he had received and gave Abbott the contact number for the Governor. Abbott told Smith to get the HRTs activated and find some fast transport. Smith advised that there was the Selferidge Air National Guard base just outside of Detroit in Mt. Clemens and he could get anything he wanted there. Abbot then broke off and while dialing up the Governor thought about how this situation just might push him into the Director’s chair if all goes well. If all doesn’t go well, he'd have to have someone else to blame. He got the Governor on the phone and listened to the rambling and disjointed dissertation about what was going on at the bridge. The Governor assured the Deputy Director that total and complete cooperation would be provided to the FBI and that the situation would be completely under their control once they arrived on scene.
“What an *******’ thought Abbott, “of course we will have total control, we don’t work for anyone, we’re the FBI” Abbott advised the Governor that the situation would be under control and resolved today and not to worry.
One thing you had to give the FBI and the Federal government credit for was when they pushed the panic button the amount of resources they could throw at a problem was awesome. A phone call here, a phone call there and all of a sudden you have 20 HRTs, 2 bodyguards and 4 helicopters to get you where you need to be. Behind them but on the way soon in more commandeered Guard aircraft would be some of the best investigators and technicians they had as soon as they got collected. Abbott had instructed the Guard helicopters to meet everyone at the Detroit City airport, he’d be damned if he was going to have to go all the way to the Guard base, and after waving bye to his bed warmer he was out the door headed North.
CHAPTER 21
Manny was safely tucked away in his office when the secretary advised him that Tre Lee was on the phone and asking for him. Manny’s heart leapt at the news, she was the hottest reporter in the area and not just because she was good at getting news. Deep inside Manny had mental illusions of doing things to her and with her of which his wife would never approve. He took the call. “Tre, what can I do for you?” “What’s going on Manny” she asked. “The bridge is closed, there are cops everywhere and nobody is working on moving that truck off of the bridge. There is also a SWAT team at the post and they look like they are getting ready for a war.” Manny knew he couldn’t tell her the real story but still he couldn’t really bring himself to say he didn't know anything. That would indicate he wasn't important enough to be in the loop. He finally said, “Well it looks like a truck with some radioactive rods broke down and they are just being careful”
Tre was already aware of the recent State Police press release and so she knew immediately that Manny was lying again. She also knew about the friction between Maxwell and Manny and decided to try something. She took one of her famous gut feeling shots and said “Some other police chief I interviewed said it was some sort of terrorist thing.” Manny sat bolt upright, and he took the bait, he knew Maxwell was trying to upstage him and steal all the limelight so he would be damned if he would lose out another sound bite to him. “Was it Chief Maxwell? He wasn’t supposed to tell anyone anything about the bomb on the truck. It was all supposed to be kept under wraps.” Tre remained silent. Manny continued “Well since he already blabbed to you I’ll fill in the rest. I was the first one to the vehicle and found out about the radios in it and the remote control devices that seem to be used to control various functions on the truck.” He left out the part about almost being electrocuted and blown off the bridge from his stupidity. When he finished he had provided enough information that in wartime he would have been shot for treason. He included in his soliloquy the name of the terrorists supposedly involved, the Black Eagle Group. “So, did I fill in the blanks for you Tre?” She didn’t have the heart to tell him that he would be the only one quoted as a source for her information. “Manny”, she said, “you are without a doubt the most important person I have talked to today, thanks for the info” then she rang off. Her next call would be to the station manager, he would have to be involved in the extent of information to be released. “Hollywood here I come’ she thought.
Manny was still in his office thinking about how he had ****ed Maxwell when one of the officers advised him he may want to take the call on line that was the direct connection to the bus garage. Manny said hello and the voice on the other end identified himself as Bob down at the public transport garage. He said he had just received a very strange phone call. Seems a guy was getting ready to go fishing this morning. He had his boat down at the Black Point Marina. Anyway, he was on the end of the dock looking at the bridge about 4:00AM and he sees this guy jump off of the center of the bridge. Saw it plain as day. Said the moonlight was good enough to make out the shape. He sees this speed boat pick the guy out of the water. He didn’t really think anything about it. Figured just some kids prank.
Anyway he is getting ready to go out and here the speed boat comes racing into the marina. Says 2 guys pull into an empty slip and jump out and run. They are laughing and stuff about the bridge. They were both wearing ski masks, he figured because they could get in trouble for jumping off the bridge and didn’t want to be identified. He comes back from fishing and sees all the traffic and starts hearing about the stuff on the bridge. Figures he should tell about the 2 guys he saw. Said their boat is still down there in the slip when he got back. It looks like a Sea Ray about 21 feet. Has the name “Black Eagle Revenge” Manny almost jumped through the phone “What’s the guy’s name and where is he?” Bob replied, “I asked but he was real reluctant to give me that information. I asked if he had a telephone number he could be reached at and the guy said he didn’t want to get involved and hung up.” Manny asked him, “Why did he call you?” and he replied “The guy said every time he tried the police numbers the phones were busy. This was the only way he could get through to someone official.” Manny exploded out of the chair and ran to his car. If all went well he could be at Black Point Marina in 15 minutes. The only problem for Manny was Black Point Marina was out of his jurisdiction and he had no plans at the present of notifying anyone who would have jurisdiction at the marina. HE would get all he could and wrap it up before anyone else could beat him to it. He could see himself on Nightline as he gunned the car toward the West.
The direct line started ringing again from the toll booth supervisor’s office. Smith looked at it with dread. For hours the booth operators had to deal with the death threats from the motorists refused passage over the bridge. Semis had been commandeered to physically block off all approaches to the bridge other than the one that ran out of the rear of the State Police Post onto the southbound lanes. That entry was now being guarded by one of the troopers with a car blocking access. The toll booth operators were not a happy lot. Each time they asked if there was any idea how long the bridge might be closed the answer was “I don’t know. What do they want now” Smith answered and had the super on the phone, who said “ I got a call from some old guy who was camping next to Black Point Marina this morning and was leaving, when at about 4:00 in the morning he saw the truck lights flashing all over the bridge and was staring at it through his binoculars when he said it looked like someone jumped off the bridge and got picked up by a boat. Said he could see it fairly clear because the whole thing was backlit by the moon. He saw him get picked up by a speed boat that pulled into the Marina. The caller didn’t think anything about it, just thought it was some prank until he was most of the way home and heard something on the radio about a bridge problem. He tried calling the post but the number was always busy.” “Did you get his name” asked Smith? The toll supervisor said the guy didn’t give it too him, said it was too far away to get involved and hung up. Smith screamed for Messler.
Phelps was brought up to speed on the phone call and he told Messler and Johnson to get to the marina and see what they could find out. They headed out for Black Point Marina. The Marina was on the South shore of the Straits about 10 miles out of Mackinaw City and to the West. It wasn’t big as far as marinas on the Great Lakes go. It was big enough to hold 50-60 boats and nothing bigger than 30 feet. They picked up a goose on the South side of the semi and “kicked the tires and lit the fire” they were at better than 100mph when they cleared the bridge.
Tre was just kicked back sitting on the sand thinking about the conversation she had with Manny and then her station manager. They were going to have to mull this one over for a while and she had advised that the competition was no where in sight and that she was sure that she was the only one who had the real story at this time. The Station would get back with her because they were going to contact the national network and work out the details. They also wanted to contact their legal department about the seriousness of the information they had. They didn’t need to jeopardize their FCC license by creating a national security problem. Just then one of her crew alerted her to the blue patrol car screaming off the bridge approach. She ran to the chopper where Hanson was already in the process of spinning it up to speed. The little turbine engine reached operational temperature and Hanson yanked the collective, rolled in throttle and climbed for the sky. As they broke through 700 feet they saw the car running it’s overhead light racing to the West.
The helicopter took up a position high to the rear because they didn’t
want the officers to know they were there until they got to where they were going. They saw the car slide into the Black Pointe Marina and saw a confrontation with Manny taking place. Tre had been on the “beat” up here for a long time and knew that the marina wasn’t in the City of Mackinaw City. She was wondering why Manny was there. Their police scanner had carried no radio traffic for him or the troopers to go to the marina yet they both were there. They had dropped down to about 200 feet off the ground to get a closer look. They were wondering about the conversations taking place when Hanson got that feeling on the back of his neck that kept him alive in Vietnam and other combat zones.
There was no explanation for why it happened he just knew better than to ignore it. It was simply something he felt, and not that he saw. To Tre it seemed all was OK then for no apparent reason he jerked hard on the controls and rolled the agile little Hughes on it’s roof as he almost dove it into the ground into a small field next to the marina. He then had to snap the little helicopter back upright before he could give it maximum throttle and collective to keep it from slamming skids first into the ground. When Hanson finally stopped the dive he was no more then 5 feet off of the ground. The maneuver was so violent the camera Tre was holding was almost imbedded into her chest then slammed to the floor. She was just about to scream at John “Are you crazy?” when the words caught in her throat as the sky where they once were was obliterated by the form of a HUGE helicopter running at maybe 10 feet above the tree tops level at over 180mph followed by another and 2 Super Cobras flying cover 300 feet above them. “What the hell is going on up here?” said Tre to her pilot and to no one in particular. “Follow them and see if they are going to the bridge, we can always come back here and I can always get the information out of Manny” Hanson looked at the departing aircraft and said he would try but he was giving up better than 50 MPH even with his best efforts.
Manny had arrived at the Marina and was advised by the marina manager that there was no slip rental to anyone with a boat called the “Black Eagle Revenge.” So, Manny was in the process of racing around the Marina looking at the names of the boats. He could see the headlines now, how he had single handedly solved the case of the century. U.S. Senator Robelli, now that had a ring to it.
Manny had just found the Crestliner and could even see what looked like a rolled up parachute under the bow and was starting to board it when Messler and Johnson came into the parking area sideways then slid to a halt. They saw Manny’s car then Manny standing on the rail of a boat. Messler was beyond the level of being furious. They went to where he was and see just what the hell he was doing there. Messler was also painfully aware of the helicopter running circles overhead. He knew it was the news chopper that he had seen earlier. Ah, the wonders of the 1st amendment, ya gotta love the news folks. Manny was shocked to see the arrival of the troops before he had solved the case. He was also panicking knowing that he had no authority outside of his jurisdiction and could be seen as hindering the case if he didn’t spin his story well. Messler approached Manny with fire in his eyes and desire to kill in his heart. Manny had screwed up several investigations in the past by getting involved in cases that were not his and he was not going to screw up this one.
“What the hell are you doing here?” he yelled at Manny. Manny, ever ready to tell someone a lie if it covered his butt said he had been waved down by a driver as Manny was in the area following up on a previous larceny that took place in the city. He was almost in front of the Marina when he was waved down and the person reported seeing a guy all in black with a helmet on a boat in the Marina. So he thought he would save Messler some time to see if he could see anything. He was just getting ready to call him when the 2 officers arrived. “Bull****” thought Messler, but now was not the time to wring the squirrelly little cocksuckers neck. The problem was that if they went on board and found something without the warrant they would lose it as evidence and also any thing it led to under the theory of “the fruit of the poisonous tree.” Messler told Johnson to get on board and look to see if any one was present on the boat, to be sure they would be secure from attack, but don’t search while on the boat, he was going to call Phelps. The boat was an open speedboat with an elongated bow. Johnson just gave Messler a funny look, then said, “OK” and hopped into the boat and looked under the bow storage area.
Messler walked to the rear of the boat he saw the name and the “Black Eagle” at the post took on more significance. He got Phelps on the line and told him of the boat and its name. He also advised of the legal problem. Search without a warrant and potentially lose evidence but maybe find the terrorists in time or wait for a search warrant and be legal, he left the call to Phelps. Phelps thought about it for about 2 seconds and then said “**** the search warrant get what you can and run with it. We’ll worry about cleaning it up after we have the *******s bagged.” Messler thought, “You had to love Phelps, he tried to solve problems and said **** the political correctness”. Just as he was breaking the connection with Phelps, the air roared from the sounds of the 2 giant CH47 Chinooks hugging the tree tops with a pair of Super Cobras flying in formation with them. They were headed for the bridge. “Now what” thought Messler?
At the GOD command post Watson gleaned some new information from the intercepted cell traffic to the post. He dialed up Henson's coded extension. Henson knew it had to be the duty officer because the phone had been dedicated to his use. "What do you have now?” he asked fearfully. Watson replied, "Looks like the cops found the terrorists’ boat. It has the name Black Eagle Revenge on it. Man, the file on these guys was really right on the nose. They've left everything but signed pictures of themselves saying who they were." Henson just took in the information having reached the point beyond disbelief. He sort of absentmindedly responded, "Thanks" for the information and broke the connection.
Straits red chapters 18-21
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