Dex
“You gotta be kiddin’ me,” said Tommy. “Whaddya gonna do?”
“Who’s Bruckner?” said Augie.
“I can’t believe it. Bruckner has family here—in the states. His grandson says he left a message for anybody who ever found his boat. That just can’t be.” Dex ran a hand through his hair as he grappled with the new information. As soon as he wrote down the contact information for Bruckner, he erased all the calls from the Verizon service—just in case there was a way to access them, and there probably was.
Which made him consider something else. “Tommy, you have a house phone?”
“Yeah, but I don’t use it much. I guess I don’t really need it, you know, with my cell…”
“Is it listed in your name?”
“Yeah, sure. Who else?”
Dex nodded. “You got an answering machine?”
“On the house phone? Yeah, it was my uncle’s. I just left it hooked up, why not?”
“Who’s Bruckner?” Augie was completely out of the loop on the conversation.
Dex had to ignore him for the moment. “Any way to access the machine remotely?”
Tommy looked at him, shook his head. “Nah. It’s old as shit. Has a big slow cassette in it.”
Dex figured as much. “Hate to say this, but we have to get into your house. Even if they’ve got people watching it.”
Leaning forward, Tommy looked confused. “Huh? Why? What’s the deal?”
“The deal is this: Jason Bruckner tracked me down from the newscast. If he tried to reach you the same way, and left a message on your machine…”
“Aw shit,” said Tommy. “Then the bad guys will know as much as we do.”
“Who’s Bruckner?” Augie wasn’t going to let it go, so Tommy tried to get the old guy up to speed while Dex let all the variables settle into place. He’d always believed he was an analytical guy, but their present mess was making him wonder if he had what it took.
“Just thought of something else,” Dex said. “You have a spare key to your house?”
Augie smiled, smacked Tommy’s arm. “Your uncle gave me one thirty years ago—for emergencies and stuff. It’s hangin’ in the kitchen.”
“Good, we might need it.”
Picking up the Trac Fone, he wondered if the message could have been a trap. Could the people after them be so clever? Sure they could, but the Trac Fone would protect him from immediate danger. Hey, no guts, no glory, He punched in Jason Bruckner’s number, waited for someone to answer.
“Hello?” It was the same young voice on the answering service.
Evenly, Dex spoke. “This is Dexter McCauley. I’m trying to reach Jason Bruckner.”
“That’s me. Man, I can’t believe I found you so easy!”
That notion rocked Dex. How many others would find the task equally simple? “Actually, I was pretty shocked myself.”
“Mr. McCauley, I don’t know how to explain this, so I guess I’ll just start.”
“Go ahead.”
“The news said you found a sub called the U-5001, is that true?”
“Yes.” Dex’s pulse had jumped and his voice felt like it might crack. He never, ever, got a case of nerves, but he was getting one now.
“My grandfather knows that boat, and he said it’s very important that I get in touch with you.”
Dex cleared his throat, spoke quickly. “You said your ‘grandfather’…?”
“Yes, that’s right.”
Dex swallowed, paused. “Is his name Erich? Erich Bruckner?”
“Yes sir, it is…”
“My God, how can that be? I mean—he’s still alive?”
“Oh yeah. Very much so. My grandfather’s in his nineties—but you’d never guess it.”
“Amazing. And he wants to talk to me…”
“Yes, sir. He says it’s very important.”
“Okay, can you put him on?” Dex exhaled, rubbed his eyes. How weird was this going to get?
“Well, Mr. McCauley. He says he’d like to talk to you in person. He says it’s important, and he rather not say anything about it on the phone.”
“Where’re you calling from?”
“Lancaster. Pennsylvania. He says it’s not that far from you. You live in Maryland, right?”
Dex hesitated, but then felt silly. Of course Bruckner would know that if they looked up his number. “Yeah, that’s right.”
“So, can you come see him?”
“You mean now?”
“As soon as you can.”
“All right, I’ll tell you what—tell him I’d very much like to meet him. Get me some directions, and I can be on the road within the hour.”
Jason waited for Dex to get paper and pencil, then gave him what he needed. He could back it up with an internet map site if he had to.
“Okay, Jason…one more thing.”
“What’s that?”
“When you tried to contact me—did you call anybody else?”
“Uh, yeah, I called the fireman, the guy with the Italian name.”
“Chipiarelli.” Dex exhaled sharply as he digested the bad news.
“Yeah, that’s him.”
“You leave him a message?”
“Yeah, on his machine, why?”