Chapter 26

Captain Fletcher stood on the bridge of the Nalon Vet. He should have been to Hawaii and back by now. But this was Captain Moore’s ship now, and he was but a passenger. Jeffrey was there, too. “Mr. Striplin, will you join me in a cigar?” Fletcher asked, reaching into his shirt pocket.

“Aye, aye, sir.” Striplin smiled as Fletcher handed him the small cigar.

Egan looked out over the shimmering light blue ocean at the evening’s hovering sun. He could not help but wonder if he would ever see a day like this again. By tomorrow night, he and his band of pirates would be aboard the Russian man-of-war, Rapunzel. Or they would be just another part of naval history.

“Hurricane, it’s time,” Captain Moore said as he patted Egan on the shoulder. Captain Moore sounded like a warden telling a condemned man his date with the hangman had come. “Mr. Striplin,” Captain Moore ordered. “Come left to course one-eight-zero.”

“Left to one-eight-zero, aye,” Striplin replied.

“Full ahead,” Moore ordered. “X-O, please alert the David Ray we’re underway, heading one-eight-zero. Flank speed.”

“Ahead flank, sir,” reported the sailor who operated the engine control console.

“Goodnight, Adrian,” Egan said to Moore. “I’m going below.” He saluted the watch as he departed for his quarters.

As Egan left the bridge, he glanced toward the U.S.S. Bon Homme Richard, the mission’s support ship. She lay about three thousand yards to the Vet’s portside. He wondered how Miss Pearce and Fay were faring.

****

Admiral Brandon May spoke to Vern Towsley via secure phone from the Bon Homme Richard bridge. “Who’s minding the kids?”

“Kim is taking care of it.”

“And Gifford Champion?” the Admiral asked.

“Kim, sir.”

“You know, Vern, if Kim screws up, the old man will hang us out to dry.”

“Understood, Admiral. I assure you, Kim is the best at what he does. There won’t be any slip-ups,” Towsley promised.

“Pray your assessment is correct.”

****

Fay thought she had heard the last of Jangho Kim for the day. But he was now calling with an urgent request to meet with her. She agreed.

Twenty minutes later, she and her team were waiting patiently in the hotel lobby for Major Kim.

Kim arrived carrying an expensive black eel skin briefcase.

He greeted the trio, quickly sat down, and opened the briefcase. Kim produced a manila envelope, like the one Fay had received Paul Charma’s service records in, and said, “Thank you for meeting me, Lieutenant Commander, Miss Pearce, Mr. Winslow. I understand you are leaving Seoul tomorrow.” He offered Fay the envelope. “I was asked to deliver this to you.”

A quizzical look came to her face. Fay took the envelope from Kim and promptly opened it. As she reviewed each page of the envelope’s contents, the concerned look on her face deepened. She then handed each page to Pearce and Winslow for their perusal. Not a word was spoken.

When Pearce handed the envelope’s contents back to her, Fay asked, “How did you come by this, Mr. Kim?”

“An anonymous source,” he said. “Literally. I found the envelope in my mailbox this afternoon with instructions to review it and then forward it on to you.”

“This is Admiral May’s doing,” Fay said. “I am sure of it.”

Kim probably knew, but he was not going to admit to it. Kim furrowed his brow as if he were making a more concerted attempt at connecting the dots.

Then, surprise! Fay was wrong.

“Wait a minute,” Kim said. “Admiral V. Brandon May headed up the Eastern Pacific Airways crash recovery effort last month. You think May is the anonymous source?”

“I do.” Fay had not heard of the airliner crash. She scanned the documents. “I’m puzzled, Jangho. These are Gregory Rodman’s service records, the man who drowned when the Carr sank, although these are not the identical records I reviewed the other day. If these are Rodman’s actual records, then Gregory Rodman was an Air Force major and not Navy as we first believed.”

“It would explain why Rodman couldn’t find his way off the ship,” Winslow remarked. “He wasn’t a sailor. And it would explain why the entire crew was accounted for, as Nevada claimed. Rodman was not on the crew list. Rodman was on the passenger list.”

“Thank you, Mr. Winslow,” Fay said.

“His service record didn’t indicate his duty assignment,” Kim said.

“I’ve been running into a lot of that lately,” Fay remarked. “It means Major Rodman’s purpose was over-the-top secret. ‘Eyes only,’ as they say.” Her logical mind was looking for a scenario, but she could not find one. “What part do you play in this, Jangho?”

He shrugged his shoulders. “I sometimes wonder myself. Rodman would be the person recovered from Jonathan Carr. My suggestion is to contact Gifford Champion. He will have more information on the airliner crash.”

When Fay and her team returned to her room/office, she placed a call to Gifford. She told him she wanted to know about the Eastern crash. He agreed to meet her in her room within an hour.

Forty-five minutes passed before there was a knock at her door. It was Champion, with wine and cheese!

Fay reviewed with Gifford what she felt she was allowed to. She asked, “What can you tell us about the Eastern Pacific Airways crash?”

“I know a lot about the crash. I covered the story,” Gifford informed her. “I store detailed information on the stories I cover on my computer’s hard drive. I was searching my database on my way over here in the cab. I ran across a note I made to myself.” He reopened his briefcase. “A curiosity, really.” He withdrew a sheet of paper and handed it to Fay.

She reviewed the paper. “This speaks of two SEALs. Both men were injured during the search and recovery operation of an Eastern Pacific Airways airliner downed in the Yellow Sea last month. One SEAL named David Rodman.”

“Yes, I searched my database for the name Rodman and came up with this,” Gifford explained. “I’ve covered several airline mishaps for NCC. I was assigned to the EPA crash. It’s my custom to hang around the hospital/morgue. The real stories are the people—the victims of the crash, their families, and the personnel involved in the recovery operation.”

“What connection does Navy SEAL David Rodman have with Gregory Rodman? Are they related?” Fay asked.

“It wasn’t so much the men’s similar names that piqued my curiosity, Fay, but rather SEAL David Rodman himself,” Gifford replied. “I talked to David Rodman at the EPA crash site when he was brought into the infirmary with a nasty slice on his leg. The jagged metal those crashes create is treacherous. As I spoke with Rodman, it occurred to me that I’d seen him before. I didn’t immediately recall where, but it came to me later. It was several years earlier. I had covered the crash of a Trans Global Airlines 787, which went down off New York’s coast. The scenario was the same. A jumbo jet explodes in mid-air and falls into the ocean. In the case of the Trans Global incident, the investigation team concluded a fuel tank had exploded.”

“I recall the crash,” Fay said. “How tragic.”

Gifford nodded in agreement. “On the second day of the TGA recovery operation, I was milling around the infirmary. An injured diver was brought in. What struck me as odd and made the memory of the event so lasting in my mind was the diver was under constant guard for the entire time he was in the infirmary. No one could approach him except, of course, the medical staff. I did get a good look at the man’s face but didn’t speak to him.”

“The diver was David Rodman?” Fay guessed.

“One and the same.”

“Sounds like a coincidence.”

“Fay, I don’t believe in coincidence. The security surrounding the diver at the TGA crash site got my attention. I wondered, why all the fuss? After the diver was discharged from the infirmary, I snooped around. I was looking for a name, anything on which to build my story,” Gifford stated.

“And?” Fay asked. Gifford could not tell his story fast enough.

“The diver at the EPA crash site was the same man as the diver at the TGA site, only his name had changed. The man I met last month was David Rodman. The man I saw in New York was a man named Paul Charma.”

“CHARMA!” Fay exclaimed.

Pearce and Winslow were aghast.

“You sound like you know Charma,” Gifford replied.

Fay tried to respond to Gifford, but the best she could muster was a gasp. When she felt she could speak, she turned to Pearce and asked, “Miss Pearce, will you do a couple of things for me? You and Don download anything regarding the Eastern Pacific Airways and the Trans Global Airlines disasters. Also, call the front desk and tell them we are not leaving tomorrow. And leave a message for Major Kim. Tell him we have changed our plans and will be staying on for a few more days.”

Without hesitating, Winslow and Pearce stood.

“Aye, aye, ma’am,” Pearce responded. She smiled at Gifford Champion. “Goodnight, Mr. Champion.”

He smiled and said, “Goodnight.”

As Pearce walked away, Fay called after her. “See if you can locate Bart Hay. And leave a message for him. I would like to meet with him at his earliest convenience.” Fay thought for a moment. “Oh, and find out for me what a ‘flyin’ rat hump’ is.”

“What?” Pearce hesitated while apparently processing Fay’s instructions. “You got it, ma’am,” she said and gave Fay the thumbs-up signal and a wink.

Something less than fifteen minutes passed before Pearce called Fay. She had found Bart Hay.

“Quick work, Miss Pearce. How did you find him so fast?” Fay asked.

“He’s a man,” Pearce replied. “It’s dinnertime. I figured he would be either in the coffee shop or in a topless bar. Lucky for me, he was in the coffee shop.”

Fay chuckled. “See if he will wait for Gifford and me. We will be right down.”

“You got it,” Pearce replied.

Fay and Gifford arrived at the coffee shop and quickly found JP and Bart.

“Good evening, and I believe you have met Mr. Champion, Bart? I wonder if you would help us?” Fay asked.

Bart nodded. “Sure.”

“I’d like to know everything you can tell us about the Goddess of the Dawn,” Fay requested.

“The Aurora? Sure. I will tell you what I am allowed to. I’m on my way out. Ace and I broke our jet. We’re gonna ferry from Osan to Gimpo for repairs.” Bart looked at Pearce. “I’d just asked Miss Pearce if she would join us. Unfortunately, she seems to be busy.”

Fay shifted her gaze from Bart to Pearce. Pearce had a pleading look in her eyes.

Fay thought for a moment and then said, “Tell ya what. Winslow can download the information; JP, you go with Bart and see what you can learn about the Aurora. And how long will you be gone?”

“Maybe four hours? Give or take,” Bart estimated.

Pearce displayed a large grin, and without waiting for any further instructions from Fay, she grabbed Bart by the arm and said, “Come on, Bart, we got a plane to catch. Hold up! Wait here. I gotta run to my room and grab a coat.”

Fay’s gaze followed Pearce and Bart as they disappeared into the lobby. Then she said, “JP’s father taught her how to fly. Her dream was to be a naval aviator like her dad. Sadly, it did not work out for her. This short flight with Bart will make her happy.”

“I would imagine,” Gifford said. “I have some additional information regarding the crashes you might find useful. I’d be happy to make it available to you if you like.”

“I would like,” Fay confirmed.

“What do the Rodman brothers have to do with Aurora and the sinking of the Carr?” Gifford asked.

“Air Force Major Greg Rodman was aboard the Carr, which means one of two things,” Fay explained. “He was either an advisor involved with the recovery of the Aurora, or he was Aurora’s pilot. Although, I had heard the pilot died.” She looked at Gifford. “Either way, it’s something I want to pursue.”

“I don’t mean to be presumptuous, Faydra, but would you like some help with your project this evening?”

She smiled. “Looking for a story, Mr. Champion?”

“Always.”

“You, sir, have a deal!” Fay exclaimed.