The Orlando File (Book One) Read online

  Kerrin watched the entrance, keeping an eye out for his old friend. It would be good to see James again. It had been a while.

  Old James Callaghan, or IceBreaker as they used to call him, was one of the few people that he still had contact with from his days at the police academy. Over the years he had either lost the numbers of the others in his graduating class, or the phone conversations between them all had just petered out. Only James Callaghan stayed in contact.

  He was a hulk of a man, and definitely not the sort of person you wanted to get into a brawl with in a bar. He had earned the nickname 'IceBreaker' during the first week of the academy, by putting ice cubes down on the edge of the bar, and breaking them into pieces with his forehead. A few other people had tried it: one of them almost got concussion, and the other had cut his head open. IceBreaker's skin was so thick that it didn't even leave a mark on him.

  Before he had joined the police IceBreaker had spent some time in the U.S. Air Force, until a severe infection had messed up his inner ear so badly that he failed the medical and wasn't allowed to fly again. Being grounded without a pilot's licence was not something IceBreaker could stomach, so he had been granted an honourable discharge.

  Kerrin had arranged to meet him tonight so that he could tap some of the knowledge from his Air Force days: he wanted to know where the military jet that might have been tailing his brother-in-law could have flown from. IceBreaker knew the skies around the Caribbean, and had been stationed for a while in Florida. Plus, he still owed Kerrin a big favour, for introducing him to the girl that later became his wife.

  "Deadeye! How the devil are you?"

  His friend stood in the doorway, even more massive than the last time he saw him. Kerrin was shocked to see that he was now almost as wide around the waist as he was around his massive, hulkish arms and biceps. Middle age spread had claimed yet another victim.

  Kerrin smiled at the mention of his own nickname. He hadn't heard it for years. So earned, because on their first attempt at shooting handguns on the police firing range, Kerrin had scored a bulls eye. At first they had joked, pulling his leg and saying it was a fluke, but when he had walked off with the academy's 'Top Marksman' award at the end of the course, everyone had stopped ribbing him and given him the name out of genuine respect. Turns out, Kerrin was an excellent shot.

  "No one has called me that for years!" He stood up, and wrapped an arm around his friend's shoulders in a quick bear-hug.

  They shook hands and while the IceBreaker sat down on the stool beside him, Kerrin caught the attention of the nearest waitress, and ordered two large cold beers.

  "So how's the big world of publishing?" James asked.

  "Oh you know, never a dull day and all that…not exactly as exciting as the police force, but…"

  James knew how much Kerrin had liked the police, and he knew how hard it had been when he had given up the job so that he could spend more time at home looking after his wife. Kerrin had been one of the best officers in his graduation class at the academy. He had just been promoted to Captain when Dana had been crippled. If things had been different and he had stayed in the force, Kerrin would have gone far. He was good at this job and everyone liked him.

  "And Dana? How is she?"

  "Better, much better…" Kerrin replied.

  Over a few beers they caught up on old times, laughing at old memories, and talking about the daily routine of the lives they now both led. Eventually they came round to the question of the evening. It was James who brought it up.

  "So young 'Deadeye', what's up? What do you want from me?”

  "What makes you think that I want anything?"

  "Just call it a cop's instinct. Or maybe it's just that you've paid for all the beers so far…you must want something!"

  "Is it that obvious?" Kerrin laughed. "…The thing is, a couple of days ago the paper sent me down to do a routine report on a plane crash in the Bahamas. A wealthy American businessman was flying his jet down to Nassau when it exploded en route. Could be a terrorist attack, or just an accident. I'm trying to find an angle on it, trying to spice it up a little. Interestingly, an eye witness on a fishing boat saw the plane explode and he claims to have seen a military jet flying around the area at the same time the plane exploded. I want to track down the jet, and talk to the pilot to see if he was in radio contact with the businessman before his plane went down, and to find out whether or not he saw anything…"

  "What do the airport people in the Bahamas say?"

  "Nothing. They spent a few days on it, then closed the case. They didn't mention the jet at all, which was curious in itself. According to them there were no other planes in the area…"

  "So what do you want me to do exactly?"

  "I was just hoping you might be able to tell me which airbase a military jet flying in that airspace could have come from? Then I can contact the public liaison officer at the airfield, and see if he can help me answer my questions."

  "So who was the guy who died? Someone important?"

  "Could be, we don't know yet. That's one of the things I'm trying to find out." A small lie, but Kerrin had decided to leave out most of the details. It wasn't necessary to get James involved if there was anything dangerous going on…at least not yet. Maybe later.

  "Off the cuff, I would guess that the plane could have come from any one of three or four bases." James said. "Listen, I've still got some contacts. Why don't you leave it with me. I'll make a few phone calls tomorrow, and get back to you. It shouldn't take long."

  --------------------

  Day Nine

  The next morning Kerrin spoke for an hour with his wife. He hated leaving her alone, but thankfully nowadays she was so much more independent.

  Before the accident Dana had been a software designer. Luckily, her old company had given her a new job where she was able to work from home. She only needed to go into the Washington office once or twice a week, for meetings or to discuss her work with her colleagues. At first Kerrin had been too overprotective towards her. It had taken him longer to come to terms with her disability than she had. Then at Dana's suggestion, they had hired a maid who came round each day and helped out around the house. Knowing she also kept a caring eye on Dana, he didn't feel so bad about leaving her alone for a few days at a time. Which was good, because he was going to have to spend a few more days in Florida.

  It was only 10.45am, but already the beachfront at Fort Lauderdale was busy, people cruising the beach front in their open top cars, college kids hanging out on the beach, and runners jogging up and down, trying to burn up the calories and lose a few pounds.

  He finished his eggs and hash browns at the street side café, and sat back in his chair with a fresh coffee, trying to plan what he should do next. It was important that he try to separate his personal feelings from what was going on. If he was going to get anywhere, he had to be objective, had to distance himself from what had happened. And at the moment there was no real proof that the explosion that killed Martin was not just an accident.

  Kerrin had spoken to his sister late last night, and asked for the addresses and phone numbers of Martin's old work colleagues. The next step was to drive up to Miami and visit their families.

  He checked out of his hotel, and then drove to the petrol station and filled up with gas. It was a fantastic day, and on impulse Kerrin decided to take the coast road from Fort Lauderdale to Orlando.

  The cell phone in his pocket buzzed, and Kerrin whipped it out.

  "Hey DeadEye, it's James. Got some news for you!"

  "Already? That's fast!"

  "What do you expect? Anything for a pal…anyway, I've got to leave in a minute so I'd better make this quick."

  "Okay, so what have you got then?" Kerrin asked, pulling over to the side of the road, and taking out his note book and pen.

  "I spoke to one of my friends who still flies in Florida, and he agrees with me that a jet would only be able to cover that area from one of four diffe
rent airbases, Avon or MacDill in Tampa Bay being the most likely. Anyway, being such a nice guy, I called all of them and spoke to the duty public liaison officers…gave them an official police line, about us investigating the mysterious disappearance of a private jet taking off from Miami…did they have any aircraft operational in the area …and did they see anything on radar at all?"

  "And…?"

  "Well, it took a while, they all had to make a few checks, but the official line is that none of them had any jets in that area at that time. Nothing. And according to the duty officer at MacDill, there would be no other airfields that would send a jet down there without them knowing about it."

  "But, that doesn't make sense…we have an eye witness who saw it!"

  "How reliable is the eyewitness? More reliable than Uncle Sam? Officially there was nothing there…Listen, I have to go, is there anything else I can do for you?"

  "Actually, now that you ask, there is one more thing…"

  Kerrin quickly explained about the suicides he wanted to investigate.

  "Woahh, boy. What exactly is going on here? Is there just the slightest possibility that old DeadEye is not telling me everything?"

  "Could be. Don't know yet. Anyway, can you get me a copy of the police reports on the suicides…just to look at them?"

  "I can't promise anything, but I'll try. I have a friend in the Orlando Homicide department…but you owe me big time, you know that don't you? Anyway, got to rush now boyo. Speak to you later."

  It was true. If he could get a look at those files, Kerrin would owe him big time.

  --------------------

  Major Anders was a little nervous. The public liaison officer at MacDill Air Force base had just left his office. It seems that things were not as clear cut as he had hoped they were.

  Regrettably, he knew he should call his contact in New York. He would have to know.

  He poked his head out of his office and told his secretary to hold any calls. Returning to his desk, he sat down heavily in his chair and breathed deeply, trying to control himself. When he felt a little calmer, he dialled the number in Manhattan, and waited for the phone to be picked up. Once again, the phone rang quite a few times before it was eventually answered.

  "Major Anders, how pleasant it is to speak to you again so soon…" the man said, obviously surprised that he was calling.

  "Thank you, sir. I thought it necessary to inform you that the hole-in-one my golf partner scored in his recent round of golf may have had a witness after all!"

  "How exactly do you mean?" the voice asked.

  "A police officer has been making enquiries…trying to find out if we had any one out playing golf at the time…"

  "And did you?"

  "No…officially not. We made that very clear…"

  "Good."

  There was a moments silence, then the voice continued.

  "Perhaps it would be a good idea if you were to transfer your golf partner. Somewhere far away, just in case he were to brag of the hole-in-one to anyone. We wouldn’t want this to go any further, would we?"

  "No sir. Absolutely not. I'll see to it right away."

  Chapter 7

  Orlando

  Florida