Famous Last Words

By R. L. Keller

(Based on one of Pauline’s Contrived pictures. As always, I am so grateful for her imagination triggering mine 😊

It was supposed to be an easy mission. Lee didn’t even have to pretend to be someone he wasn’t during this quick trip for his part-time employer, The Office of Naval Intelligence. He could wear his usual service khakis. He did keep rather a close eye on the backpack he brought, and not just because it held the only change of clothes he’d brought for this short stay in Baha California.

For once he’d not had any arguments from Chip about taking off for ONI. Chip didn’t even know about the mission. Nor did Admiral Nelson, for that matter, unless either of them happened to call the Institute for some reason. Seaview was in port for a couple of weeks and most of Seaview’s crew had been given Leave. Chip had headed for his folk’s farm. Lee had been invited, as always, to any Morton family gatherings. But Lee had begged off, citing a planned visit north to Portland, Oregon. Unfortunately, Becca had called last minute, after Chip had left. Nelson as well, who was visiting his sister in Boston for a week. Becca’s partner in their shared Psychotherapy office had come down with a nasty case of poison ivy after hiking the previous weekend and Becca was going to have to see his patients as well as hers. When Lee got done laughing, which Becca had actually joined in on for the man’s oops, they agreed that this probably wasn’t the best time to visit. He was toying with following Chip to the farm when Admiral Jones, head of ONI, called his house phone. The man wasn’t pleased when Lee answered the phone laughing, after reading the caller I.D.

“I gather, sir, that this is your way of bypassing Admiral Nelson after he had Chip, ah, Lt. Cdr. Morton, program my cell phone to not accept your calls.”

“Harrumph,” Jones muttered. Lee had to take serious control of his tone to not convey the humor he was feeling. “I was told that Nelson wasn’t in his office, but they thought that you were home.”

“Yes, sir.” Thankfully Jones couldn’t see Lee’s continued smile. He did wonder who had passed on that bit of intel, and hoped that Admiral Nelson never found out.

“Can you get away for a few days? Quick trip. You can even wear your khakis. I need this done quick and the person from San Diego I had tagged…” There was a pause. “He’s not available.”

“No problem, sir. I’m free for the next week at least.”

“Maybe once you finish this…”

Lee grinned again. “Better to not plan ahead, sir. I never know when Admiral Nelson is going to want me for something.”

“Harrumph,” sounded loudly, and Lee struggled not to laugh out loud. Jones would give almost anything to have Lee as a full-time agent. But no way was Lee going to give up Seaview. He might consider ONI his duty to his country, but only when he wasn’t otherwise occupied. “Fly to Cabo San Lucas,” Jones finally ordered. “Nelson works with a…something…there.”

“The Nature Conservancy,” Lee named the marine conservation agency set up by the Mexican government to monitor the area’s protected Marine Parks.”

“That’s it. Hopefully you have some reason to drop in on them, without Nelson.”

“I can come up with something, sir. But their office is in La Paz.”

“I know that,” Jones growled, and Lee shut up. “Cabo is the handiest airport. Let me know what flight you’ll be on, and where you stay that night. A small package will be delivered to you. Don’t open it,” came in almost a shout. “Rent a car and drive to La Paz the next morning. You will have a room reserved for you at the Hotel Crown for one night. You shouldn’t need longer than that.”

“Yes, sir.” What Lee didn’t ask was, if he would be reimbursed for the flight and rental car. He’d fight that battle when and if he had to. He didn’t quite get a snort buried. Or let Admiral Nelson fight it for me.

“What?” Apparently Jones heard the soft snort.

“Sorry, sir. Dropped something,” he lied.

“Harrumph,” Jones muttered. “There will be a note with the package to tell you what to do with it. Once it’s delivered, your job is done.”

“Yes, sir. Is there a time schedule?”

“Quick and safely,” Jones ordered.

“Yes, sir,” and the line went dead. Lee shrugged. “Gonna be one of those missions,” and he quickly adjusted his plans for the next few days.

* * * *

Thankfully it wasn’t high tourist season on Baha’s extreme southern end and Lee had no trouble catching a flight. He was severely tempted to book First Class since there was a seat available, but settled for Comfort Plus – a bit wider seat than Budget class, and a bit more legroom which his frame appreciated. He did opt for one-way – more expensive but past experience told him that there was no guarantee Jones’ timetable would be accurate, and re-booking a flight was always a pain! Much easier just to buy a ticket at the airport when he was ready to leave, especially this time of year when there were usually at least some seats available. Maybe I’ll book First Class on the way home, he told himself, and chuckled as he went to pack after sending a quick note to Jones to confirm his flight number.

Despite the innocuous-sounding nature of the trip, Lee packed carefully. While he couldn’t fly with a weapon, he knew that – unfortunately – he’d have no problem acquiring one in Mexico if he decided that he’d need one.

And then had to laugh when, after stepping off the plane in Cabo, he was ever so slightly bumped by one of the airport cleaning crew. After a quick apology in Spanish, the woman went about her business of emptying the trash containers in the waiting area for that gate. On a hunch, Lee checked the pocket on the side that she’d bumped into and found a key. Not giving any indication, he meandered toward where signs said that he’d find Baggage Pick-up. While he had nothing but his carry-on backpack, he suspected that he’d find lockers close to that area.

He was right. And when he opened the locker numbered on the key he found a small, slightly heavy, canvas bag that he quickly stuffed into his backpack and headed to the car rental agency. They also supplied him with directions to the hotel he’d chosen to stay in that night. Given the time he landed he could have easily made the drive to La Paz before dark. But those weren’t his instructions so he checked in and tried to keep himself occupied until the next morning.

He was trying to decide if, he actually laid down he’d be able to sleep, when there were two light raps on his hotel room door. It only took him a few seconds to open it but there was no one there, and the entire hallway was empty. There was, however, an about six inch by six inch, fairly flat, sealed plastic container that he barely kept from stepping on when he opened the door. Attached was a small note. Lee quickly grabbed the package, went back inside, and closed and deadbolted his door.

The package immediately went into a special compartment in Lee’s backpack before he took the time to read the note. There was an address – apparently in La Paz although that wasn’t specified – on one line. On the only other line was “Memorize and Destroy”, and a strange word – “Guion”. Lee shrugged, made sure that he had the address numbers firmly in his brain, and tried to decide the best way to dispose of the note. And also how to pronounce the strange word. Thankfully, it was short enough that if he had to, he could just spell it. He was in a ‘No Smoking’ room so, since he was still dressed, wandered down to the hotel bar and ordered a drink. The area wasn’t overly full, Lee was lucky enough to find a back table, and while he thought that everyone else’s attention was directed elsewhere, used the small candle illuminating his table to light the small slip of paper. Once he had quietly torn off all the edges to just leave the writing, it was so small that the tiny flame it created was barely noticeable. The extra pieces Lee got rid of one at a time in various rubbish containers as he ambled outside for a bit before going back to his room. He automatically checked the bit of thread he’d left as an early warning device when he’d closed the door on his way out, but it was undisturbed. He smiled, carefully retrieved it, and tucked it back into his backpack for future use. By that time he’d expended enough energy – and stress – that he actually slept quite well. He supposed the drink he’d had in the bar didn’t hurt either, and fell asleep with a smile on his face.

* * * *

He purposely delayed his departure the next morning, figuring that the hotel staff might wonder why he was leaving at 0630 when he was dressed for the day and ready to get going. Instead, he ate a casual breakfast in the hotel before checking out, carefully tucking the receipt in his wallet and getting a quick grin from the clerk who apparently thought that Lee’s uniform meant a business trip. Well, it is, Lee noted to himself. Just not the business she’s probably thinking.

Before leaving Santa Barbara he’d made a quick stop at his desk at NIMR. Using the Institute’s phone he called the Nature Conservancy in La Paz to let them know that he’d be in the area and stopping by. Just to check in, he assured the Assistant Director; there was nothing specific. The woman welcomed the visit and indicated that she had a few reports that, as long as Lee was coming, she’d send back with him to Admiral Nelson. “Perfect,” he’d told her, asked if there was anything in the way of reports that she needed, and tucked the requested water temperature data report she asked for in his backpack.

Lee enjoyed the pleasant drive across the peninsula to La Paz on the inside coast. He’d actually not spent any time inland, only visited the outside coast and within the Sea of Cortez with Seaview. Once in La Paz he went first to the Conservancy’s office. He’d chosen to rent a sedan instead of his personal choice, a convertible, since it was easier to keep that kind of car securely locked up. Although, as it turned out the parking lot was in full view of the woman’s office so leaving his pack in the car wasn’t a serious risk. He grabbed the requested report and spent a relaxing hour visiting with her and a couple of the staff, trading information, and ended up taking them to lunch - another receipt into his wallet to send to Admiral Jones. They did sort of raise an eyebrow when he asked directions to the Hotel Crown and he raised one back.

“It’s one of the most expensive places in town,” the Assistant Director explained.

“I’m on the Admiral’s nickel this trip,” Lee told her and they all smiled. He just didn’t explain which admiral he was referring to.

He decided to go check in, then take a casual drive all over town. He never drove the same street twice if he could help it, merely playing tourist. He did, however, manage to case the address he’d been given, checking in daylight for where he planned to deliver his package that night. But he had to adjust his plans. The address turned out to be what looked like an industrial building of some sort and kind of off by itself next to a rocky stretch of shoreline. Stopping there after dark in his khakis probably wouldn’t be such a smart idea.

He pondered his options over dinner at the hotel restaurant – which he charged to his room with a broad grin that his waitress totally misunderstood. He did, however, leave her a nice tip on the table so she for sure would get it. He ended up deciding to stay the night in his room, check out the next morning – after a good breakfast in the restaurant again charged to his room – and then go to the address on his way out of town headed back to Cabo. Liking that plan better, he pondered how to spend the evening. He considered charging swim trunks to his room from one of the hotel’s boutique shops and working off steam doing laps in the hotel pool but decided that might be too much for Admiral Jones’ blood pressure when he saw the bill. Lee figured that he’d definitely not get reimbursed for the airline ticket and rental car if he pulled that stunt. So, also not wanting to leave the package unattended for too long, he returned to his room and did pushups and other exercises until he was fairly sure that he could get to sleep.

Before he left the next morning he checked the small canvas bag he’d taken from the airport locker. He’d been right at its contents – a revolver much like his service pistol on board Seaview, and two full clips of ammo. While he did occasionally have issues with Admiral Jones and the assignments he gave Lee, ONI’s Director did know his job and try to take good care of his agents. Of course Lee knew that, at least in Lee’s case, Jones knew that he also had Admiral Nelson to deal with if an assignment went too whacky. That thought put a smile on Lee’s face as he made sure the weapon was a little more accessible than where he’d originally stored it in his pack and prepared to get this assignment over. With luck he might make it home before either Chip or Nelson even knew that he’d been gone.

Famous last words, he muttered to himself a few hours later, and prepared to make a phone call that he really didn’t want to.

* * * *

At first, everything had gone exceedingly well. Lee checked out of the hotel as planned. The clerk had a credit card – not Lee’s – on file, did give him a receipt of all charges, including his meals, once Lee had signed, and wished him well on the rest of his travels. Today the clouds were moving in, not sunny as it had been the last two days. Not so hot, either, Lee told himself and appreciated the slight breeze that was also starting to make its presence known. Lee drove casually around for a bit like he’d done the day before, just to see if he could spot anyone who might be following him. He’d actually felt a bit conspicuous wearing his uniform, but in actual fact hadn’t noticed anyone giving him more than a quick curious glance. Finally, he made his way to his target building. He sat for a second – the building, now that he got a good look at it, seemed deserted. But he heard a short whistle and finally saw a man on the rocks down below, casting a line into the water, and wandered that direction, his backpack carried with both straps over his left shoulder.

“Fishing any good?” he asked as he got close enough not to have to shout.

The man shrugged. “Not so far.” He nodded to a small boat tied up just beyond where he was standing. “I will probably have to leave soon.” He looked directly at Lee. “Perhaps I am using the wrong bait.”

Lee had continued walking, carefully, for some of the rocks appeared quite slippery. “I’ve heard of something,” he told the fisherman. “Well,” he sent the man a shy look, “seen the word for a bait that works well. Not exactly sure how to pronounce it, but it’s spelled g-u-i-o-n.” The word came immediately from the man, pronounced like ‘lion’ but with a hard ‘g’ as the first sound instead of ‘l’. “Guion,” Lee repeated, carefully matching what he thought he’d heard. The man reeled in his line and came closer as Lee reached into his pack and brought out the package he’d been given.

That’s when things went ‘to hell in a handbasket’. At least, that’s the phrase he used later, remembering his neighbor when he was a youngster use the phrase when plans got totally messed up. At the time Lee didn’t have time to think, merely react. From around the corner of the building three men appeared, all firing handguns at Lee and the other man. “Duck,” Lee yelled, grabbed his own weapon, and dived behind a rock. Not fast enough, he realized, when there was a hot streak on his left side followed by sharp pain. But he didn’t have the time to do anything about it as he returned fire, dropping two of the men before they could dive for cover themselves. Lee did risk a glance at his companion. “Get out of here,” he yelled. “I’ll hold them off.” The man nodded and, keeping low, made it to his boat while Lee took the occasional shot at the third man. Unfortunately, that person had chosen Lee’s car as his cover. Lee swore under his breath as one of his shots missed the man and took out a tire.

Someone had reported the shots, apparently, because Lee heard sirens approaching. Obviously the other man had as well and tried to make a run for it behind the building. As much as Lee hated killing, in this instance he was left with no choice; the man only took a few steps before Lee dropped him as well.

Thinking fast, Lee ran to the first fallen man, at the same time wiping his fingerprints off of his weapon and exchanging it for the man’s, which was similar in design but a different caliber. Making sure that there was ammo left in that weapon, he put his in the man’s hand and, grabbing his backpack, headed for the water. His contact, thankfully, was long gone and Lee glanced both directions, finally settling on working his way north, further from any populated areas he remembered from his drive the previous day.

He really didn’t want to deal with Mexico’s Federales. He couldn’t do anything about the car – that would quickly be identified as his rental. One detail at a time. He was hoping that, by switching the guns, the officers would think that the three men took out each other. He still had his phone; perhaps, once he found a place to hide and treat his wound, he could call in and report the car stolen. But it would only work if he didn’t get caught right now. Nor could he show his face. While he did have clean khakis in his pack, the officers weren’t stupid – the least little flinch and they would know he was injured. He’d dealt with Mexican officers before – they were bulldogs getting to the facts, and he’d spend the next week being interrogated. “Jones would really love that,” he muttered, and hurried as fast as the rocky shore would allow his rapidly complaining body to move, to get away from the scene of the shooting.

“Oh, jolly, jolly,” slipped out as the first raindrops hit, and the slippery rocks quickly got even more so. An increasing breeze didn’t help, either. It did, however, give Lee a slightly higher level of safety. The rain would hamper any dogs the officers might call in to help sort out the scene. And the heavier the rain, the less likely anyone would be tempted to search further afield, perhaps with airplanes or helicopters. “It is what it is,” he told himself, and struggled on.

He kept glancing up the slope from the water, looking for a place that might give him some shelter, both from the increasing wind and rain, and also hopefully not already inhabited. After almost two hours, and now thoroughly soaked by the increasing rain, he was beginning to give up hope when ‘something’ caught his eye. He wasn’t sure what it was, but it at least promised some dry ground and he made his way up to the opening.

Then, with pleasant surprise, he discovered a cave someone had augmented with some concrete blocks at the front to partially close it off, and also a very nice fire pit off to one side. There was even some dry driftwood piled in the back. “First things first,” Lee told himself, and finally checked his wound.

Standard equipment these days on any ONI assignment was a first aid kit and Lee pulled it out of his backpack, as well as a clean set of khakis. He would have liked to light a fire before he undressed but he wasn’t all that far, he felt, from the shooting scene, as slow as he’d been forced to move because of the slippery rocks adding to his painful side, and he didn’t want to risk someone noticing. The wound turned out to be messy, but Lee cleaned it up as best he could. No exit wound meant that the bullet was still inside but he couldn’t do anything about that and did his best to stem the bleeding and put a pressure bandage in place before dressing in the clean uniform and stuffing the damaged, bloody shirt and pants in the bottom of the backpack, putting the first aid kit on top of them.

The next step was, unfortunately, calling NIMR. There was no way that Lee could pass through any airport security with the bullet still inside and, if he tried to have it removed, the bullet would tie him back to one of the shooters he’d killed. It was slightly possible that he now had the gun that belonged to the bullet but he didn’t dare take that chance. He wondered if all the rock would affect his cell call, and breathed a sigh of relief when not only did he have enough bars on his phone for the call to go through, but that one of NIMR’s most reliable radio room employees, Parquer, answered the call.

“No time to talk,” Lee cut off the man when he started to happily greet Seaview’s CO. “Find out if there’s anyone on Base who can fly FS1. I’ll call back in half an hour.”

“No need, Skipper. I just saw Chief Sharkey. His Leave plans got cancelled so he’s…”

Lee cut him off again. “Tell him to head south toward La Paz as fast as he’s able.”

“Roger, sir,” came instantly back.

“How long to trace the GPS in my phone?”

There was a pause. “On it, sir.” Another pause. “Got it, sir.”

“Turning off my phone,” Lee told him, and ended the call. But he did make one more call, dialing 9-1-1.

From previous visits to the country, Lee knew that Mexico had switched to that designator for emergency calls several years previous. He didn’t give the operator a whole lot of time to question him; he merely identified himself, explained that he was in La Paz and had just discovered that his rental car had been stolen. When the person tried to get his current location, Lee disconnected and immediately switched off his phone.

The rain, if anything, was coming down even harder. Lee held off as long as he dared, but knowing that his injured body was going to react badly to the cold and damp, finally started a fire. He hadn’t bothered to pack a jacket since he was expecting warm weather for the short time he figured to be at the southern end of Baha California. He considered trying to catch some rainwater; his throat was getting dry. And he would have if there had been any delay in sending FS1 south. Instead, he dry-swallowed a couple aspirin, laid down by the fire, and waited.

Full dark set in sooner than it normally would have with the continued heavy cloud cover and rain. Lee had no idea how long it would take for Sharkey to track him down, and he needed to stay alert in case the rain hadn’t stopped some industrious police-person from somehow tracking him. Or whoever used this place for a bit of private time decided to show up. Or someone reported seeing his fire. The more he pondered issues, the more problems he came up with! But between the pain, the warmth of the fire, and his exhaustion, he unwillingly fell asleep.

At first he wasn’t sure what woke him up. But still a bit fuzzy, he heard a noise outside his enclosure and his hand automatically held the gun. Then he heard a soft oath in a voice that he thought he recognized as apparently the speaker stumbled over something, and a flashlight beam swept across the opening. “Chief?” Lee called, barely loud enough to reach the opening.

“Skipper,” came in Sharkey’s recognizable tone. Lee smiled when he also heard a high level of relief in that one word. It took another few moments – and another couple oaths when Lee heard more stumbling steps – for Seaview’s COB to appear at the opening wearing a heavy slicker over his uniform.

“Sorry to disturb you,” Lee apologized for his extremely unorthodox orders to Parquer. He tried to sit up from the position he was in – leaning on his right elbow, gun still in his hand, with his left hand tight over the bandage under his shirt – but the movement was too painful and he stayed where he was, after laying down the pistol.

Sharkey waved off the comment as he came immediately to Lee’s side. “Bad, sir?”

Lee shrugged. “I can walk.” He sent Sharkey one of his shy looks. “Might need a little help.”

“Got it covered.” Lee wondered at the comment but didn’t say anything as Sharkey scattered apart the wood in the fire pit. Both men knew that it wouldn’t take long for the flames to go out. The COB tried to offer his slicker to Lee, but Lee wouldn’t have it so he grabbed Lee’s backpack with one hand and offered Lee his other one. He knew only too well that Lee didn’t often allow physical help from others. But nothing more was said as Lee took the offered hand and got slowly to his feet. Sharkey had dropped his flashlight when he’d gotten to Lee. Now he shouldered the backpack correctly, picked up the flashlight, and again offered Lee his left arm to lean on. “You sure you won’t take my slicker, sir?”

Lee sent him a tired smile. “Actually, I’m feeling a little warm.” He shrugged. “The rain will cool me off.” Sharkey mumbled something about fever setting in not being helped by getting soaked by the still heavy rain, but Lee ignored it and, with a last look at the quickly dying fire, indicated that they needed to leave.

The trip down the hill to the water’s edge wasn’t overly long but the rocks, in the rain, made it treacherous. Sharkey would have liked to hurry, but he realized that Lee was in enough pain that that wasn’t going to happen. Thankfully, Sharkey knew something that Lee didn’t. When they finally reached his destination he pulled a small box from his inside pocket, pressed the button, and FS1 floated gently to the surface and nestled her aft hatch against what amounted to the shoreline.

“Good thing the Admiral got that to work correctly.” Lee ducked his head. “And you didn’t slip on the rocks and break it, like I did.”*

“I was real careful,” Sharkey told him, and cracked the hatch. All was dark inside but Lee still made out another person from the several soft instrument lights.

Lee merely shook his head. “Hi, Jamie,” he got out as casually as he could, and stepped inside what he tended to call ‘Seaview’s bright yellow offspring’ and most of the crew called ‘the Skipper’s toy’. Behind him, Sharkey shut and dogged the rear hatch and headed for the pilot’s chair to get FS1 once more submerged as quickly as possible, although Lee did smile at how carefully he managed the maneuver as Seaview’s CMO grabbed a blanket and demanded that Lee sit down on the deck.

Not a whole lot was said for several minutes. Will helped Lee strip off his by now totally soaked clothes. With the bandage now visible, the Doctor still took the time to grab a couple towels, dry Lee as best he could, and then pointed up. “Bunk,” he demanded. Lee sent him a quick grin and complied. There, he was covered with several blankets so that he could finally stop shivering, and Will had easy access to the bullet wound. “Who won?” Will finally asked with a quirky look as he examined the damage.

“Me,” Lee answered. “I think,” he added softly. “Won’t know for sure until I talk to Admiral Jones.”

Will nodded. “The Chief knew that I was home, and when he got Parquer’s message…”

“Sorta thought…” Sharkey started, but let the sentence drop.

“Not complaining,” Lee told them both.

“Now I am worried,” Will muttered. Sharkey snorted, Lee sent Will a quick nod, and they were mostly quiet as Will got to work and Sharkey got them headed home.

* * * *

Five days later, Lee was busy replacing a faucet in the guest bathroom upstairs in his house when he heard a car door slam. Grinning, he waited at the top of the stairs until he heard the front door open. “Upstairs in the guest bath, Chip,” he called down, and went back to work. “You’re back early,” he added when he felt rather than heard a presence in the doorway.

“The nieces and nephews were on some kind of sugar high,” the blond answered. “Mom swears it wasn’t her fault that she forgot to hide the candy dish until it was too late.” Both men chuckled and Lee finally looked up from what he was doing.

“You heard,” Lee said softly.

Chip finally relaxed stiff shoulders. “Got the gist from Angie when I called in.”

Lee turned and settled his back against the sink. Carefully, as it was still painful where Will had to cut him to get out the bullet. “Could have been a lot worse,” he said carefully. Chip would never willingly accept Lee’s continued ONI service. “But Admiral Jones actually said ‘thank you’.” He sent Chip a grin – they both knew that Jones rarely acknowledged a successful mission, just yelled when anything went wrong.

Chip didn’t say anything for a bit. Finally, “You about done?” He pointed to the sink.

“Another five minutes,” Lee told him.

“Good! I want pizza and beer at BZ’s.” They both laughed, and Lee went quickly back to work.

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· See “Storm Front” by R. L. Keller