Code name, p.31
Code Name, page 31
“Would you like some breakfast?” Laura handed me a polished bark plate covered with fruit.
They had done wonders to make a home of the cave. Mark had built furniture, erected stone walls for privacy, and the place was comfortable. Beyond a screen of tall palm trees that rose from the base of the mountain, the view of the ocean was fabulous. A trickle of fresh water oozed from rocks near the mouth of the cave, and a bathroom had been constructed some distance away. It was a simple life, much like that dreamed of by men who entertain fantasies of life on a deserted island.
I noticed a small red plastic box, and Mark saw me fix my gaze on it. “Tools from the powerboat,” he explained. “A few weeks after I recovered from my injuries, I went back and dove on the site of the explosion, to see what I could salvage.”
He pulled out an adjustable wrench that had obviously rusted but then been polished with dry sand and lubricated with palm oil to restore its function.
“You never know when you might need one of these to do something like remove a spark plug,” he laughed.
Suddenly, I was treated as part of the family. Laura had insisted on it, I came to find out. While Mark had puzzled over what to do with me, Laura’s motherly instincts took over and she wanted to try another approach.
“He’s young,” she had told Mark. “Carli is young. She needs someone in her life.”
“It’s preposterous,” Mark had said. Yet there was a certain logic to the idea.
And so I was invited to meet Carli.
She was more beautiful than any woman I had ever known. She had grown up well. Her bright smile was a highlight to a perfect face. Raven hair and dark eyes made her mysterious, but her quick sense of humor and gentle laugh were a delight. She was well educated, having been tutored by her parents, and lacked nothing insofar as schooling was concerned – except for a twenty-year gap in history.
So that was it! Suddenly it became clear why Mark wanted to know all he could about events of the past two decades. It was not only for himself. It was for Carli’s continued education.
Carli was tall and trim, athletic in appearance, yet humble and gracious in manner. She was easy to talk with, and I found myself immediately attracted to her.
For hours on end, we sat talking with each other, and I was almost unable to take my eyes off her. I had never met anyone like her before, so innocent yet so wise and confident in herself. And it didn’t escape my notice that she could hardly keep her eyes off me, as well.
If Laura’s idea was to interest me in her daughter, her plan was working better than she could ever know.
During the final week and a half of my scheduled stay on Xulakan, I spent my days with the family, and ate with them at the cave house while they told me their story.
Carli and I were inseparable. We talked about everything – her life growing up on the island, my life growing up in civilization and then leaving all that to spend my career exploring unknown places on scientific missions. In only a few days, I began to feel as if I had known her all my life.
Even though my days were spent with the family, my nights were spent alone at the hooch, as a matter of decorum.
All during this time, I kept a small fire alive late into the night so I could see to write in these notebooks, still unsure of how they could ever be made public.
Then one evening, in the fourth week, Carli was allowed to walk me back to the hut. I took her by the hand as we hiked through the growing darkness.
“It’s just to help you over the rocks,” I told her.
She smiled, knowing the truth, then took my hand and didn’t let go even after we were well beyond the rocks. Her touch was warm and soft, and she gave my hand a gentle squeeze. My heart raced, and I felt moisture between our palms.
Was it only me, I wondered?
At the hut, we sat and talked for a long while, about life, about what lay ahead, about each other. A soft breeze rustled the palm fronds, and the distant sound of surf on the beach was the island’s natural background music.
I didn’t want the night to end, but it had to come to a close soon. In the moonlight outside the hooch, I reached up and touched her face, drawing an outline with my fingers along the edge of her hair. She laid her face over in my hand then kissed my fingers.
Daylight was barely breaking through the soft walls of the hut when I heard Mark’s voice. “What did you do to my daughter?” he demanded.
There he stood, hands on hips, while I lay vulnerable on the mat. Picking myself up so I could face the man, I answered. “Nothing to dishonor her … or me. Why do you ask?”
“She …” he paused and glanced this way and that, searching for the right words. “… she’s floating around this morning.” He waved his arms and his fingers danced through the air, fluttering around. Suddenly all she wants to do is talk with her mom. They sit in the corner, huddling and whispering. Now and then, they’ll look my way, and then they turn away and whisper even more quietly. They giggle, they cry. I’ve never seen them act this way.” His eyes came back on me, strong as ever.
I felt the color rush to my face, remembering the soft touch of her hair and her skin, remembering her kiss on my hand.
“I swear it.” That was all I said, but my heart was racing.
“Then why all this … this …” He couldn’t find the words to finish his question. He shook his head slowly, staring off through the trees, looking suddenly older. “That’s it, isn’t it?” he said, as if the light had just come on. “She’s in love.” He shifted his eyes to me. “So, now that you’ve beguiled Carli, what are your intentions?”
“We both know I can’t leave. I’m a prisoner here.”
“That’s a technicality.”
“Yeah, but it’s a serious one. You once told me that I would never be allowed to leave the island alive, because it would put you at risk. But, now that Carli and Laura have met me, looked me in the eyes, heard my voice, offered me kindness … do you think they will let you kill me?”
He bellowed, “No! Of course they won’t!” His hands shot into the air, as if to help make his point. “So, what am I to do with you?”
“What do you want to do with me?”
His eyes sizzled and his voice went low. “I wish I had never met you,” he growled through clenched teeth.
“I’m sorry you feel that way. I thought … well, it doesn’t really matter what I thought.”
He rose from the seat and stomped outside, then immediately turned and came back into the hut and sat on the hammock. “You present a huge problem.”
“I know,” I mumbled. “So what do you want me to do? Leave the island, file my report and ignore the fact that I found your family here?”
“If you had a choice, is that what you want?” Mark asked.
Wind stirred the palm fronds high overhead. Distant surf tumbled onto the rocks and sand. Neither of us spoke for a long time.
A deep sigh escaped my lungs, and while I was searching for words, he stood up, flipped something my way and stepped out of the hut. The distraction worked. While I fumbled to catch the tumbling object, he disappeared into the morning shadows.
When I opened my hands, the spark plug was there. From the distance, I heard him shout, “Go then. You are free to go.”
All morning, I lay in the hooch staring at the patches of blue through the arching palm fronds. No one came to invite me to breakfast, or to lunch. My mind was plagued with his final words, “Go … you are free …”
As the sun stretched its path across the afternoon sky, I left the hut and walked to the beach, where my Zodiac and tents were still as I had left them weeks before. Something caught the sun and glistened from the boat’s inflated bow. Stepping closer, I saw that it was the wrench.
So there it was – my freedom – a gift from a man who had once threatened my life, and was now giving it back to me.
I grabbed the wrench, and with spark plug in hand, walked into the shallow water until I reached the motor. Lifting the cover off, I quickly threaded the spark plug into its hole, tightened it with the wrench, and snapped the ignition cable boot over the end of the plug.
A quick glance at the fuel tank showed that it was still more than half full. I tugged the Zodiac off the beach far enough to allow me to lower the propeller into the water, then took the small anchor and tethered its line to the bow ring before burying the anchor in the beach sand. There were some things I had to do before leaving, and I didn’t want the boat to slip away on the tide out of carelessness.
Freedom … the concept was sweet to my mind.
It took only a few minutes to load my gear into the boat, collapse the tents and stow them aboard. Water and food were still in their boxes, and I was suddenly very hungry. I grabbed a jug of water and a handful of granola bars, then walked into the shade and sat on the sand, using a palm trunk as a backrest.
What was I waiting for? The Zodiac was loaded and ready to go. All I had to do was start the motor, swing the tiller and head out into the lagoon. A few hours’ time would put me back on the mainland – safe, away from captivity. I could make my report to Dr Menendez, say nothing about Mark and Laura and their daughter Carli, then simply fade back into my career.
When the image of Carli came into my mind, everything stopped. Half-chewed granola was stuck in my throat, but I could not swallow.
I loved her. There was no denying it.
How could I even think about leaving her?
In my travels all over the world, I had never met anyone like her. She was a treasure. For the rest of my life, I might search and never find anyone I so immediately adored.
My mind was swept with sudden doubts. What did I have to go back to – a career; perhaps the honors of men, for making some important discovery; maybe a Pulitzer, someday? Things made of paper and glass and bronze; things without life.
I swallowed the granola, took a swig of water from the jug and rose to my feet. At the boat, I stowed the remaining water, then walked around to the motor and released the cover latch. With the cover off, I pulled out the dipstick to check the oil level. Maybe I was hoping it was dry, but it was perfect. No more excuses.
Standing in water up to my waist, I replaced the motor cover and then hopped aboard. With the choke button all the way out, I pulled the starting rope. Once, twice – nothing; on the third pull, the motor jumped to life, and I pushed the choke back in. The motor idled quietly, and I let it run until it was well warmed up.
While the motor idled, I looked back at the beach and strained to see into the trees. There was no one there. Nobody had come to say goodbye.
I could hardly blame them. Mark was probably back at the cave right now, telling the ladies that I was leaving. They needed to make some new plans. With me gone, they had no way of knowing what would happen next. They might think that I would leak the story to the government, or to some tabloid for a few thousand bucks reward for a sensational story. They had to leave the island immediately and fade into some other non-existence in another safe location.
After a few minutes, I shut the motor off. Then, just to check, I pulled the starter rope once, and the motor fired immediately.
I hit the kill switch and stepped ashore. I walked back into the jungle and retraced my path to the hut. There on the mat were the notebooks. I tucked them under my arm and took a final look around.
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
Page 75, notebook #3 (Spence, this is the final page of notebook #3. RJ)
“I have a plan,” I said as I stepped into the entrance of the cave.
Across the room, Carli wiped her eyes and looked up from the mat where she lay sobbing.
Mark and Laura were deep in discussion, and both looked at me in grim silence.
“Pardon my intrusion,” I apologized.
“I heard the boat motor,” Mark interrupted. “I thought you had gone.”
“Just making sure everything still works. Why would I leave?” I smiled. “I have no family. My career has left me no time to make friends. My career … well that’s another story. A career is only that. A man is a fool who defines himself by what he does. Somewhere, someday, I can figure out a way to put my experience to work to earn a living – or maybe not. Careers come and go. What does it matter how the money is earned, so long as it is sufficient for our needs? I would rather shovel out stables in some Argentine riding arena than spend my life without …”
Mark raised his eyebrows. “Without what?”
“Without Carli.”
I knelt in front of Carli and took her hand. “You fill my heart. And I want the two of us to fill our lives together. Will you marry me?”
Laura cried out softly, covering her face with her hands.
I turned to face them. “If Carli agrees, may I have your daughter’s hand? I only want her forever.”
That evening, I presented my idea. It required that we leave Xulakan in search of a safe location – someplace no one would think of, a spot with no connection to any of us in the past.
We would send my notebooks to Leo Spence at CIA. It was the only way I could see to get the story told about NIA and the Blake journal.
Mark and Laura agreed, and together we formulated a detailed plan.
Two days later, we used the Zodiac to make a night crossing to Campeche.
EPILOGUE
Separate page, written by Mark Benton in cursive English
‘Leo Spence
Central Intelligence Agency
Langley, VA 22101
Leo, my man,
I’m mailing this to you from Campeche. You’re the only one I can go to with this. The Mexican mail system should slow delivery enough to allow us time to melt away into some other safe place. Sorry, but I hope you’ll understand that I don’t want even you to be able to trace us. Dressed in the clothes David had in the Zodiac, we can travel unnoticed until we can change our appearances.
David says you should take these notebooks to Professor Rich Johnson at Arizona State. He’ll be able to transcribe the shorthand for you. It’s a unique style that only Johnson understands. Then get the story published, if you can; the more people that know the truth, the better. John Blake was a good man. Maybe he’s still alive in Leavenworth, I don’t know. But he didn’t deserve what he got. And neither did we – it’s time to clear our names.
Even more important, it’s time to bring down the international drug cartel Gates worked for. He had certain creative talents with logistics, finance and organization that they wanted to exploit. They used him to set up the deal with bin Laden. In exchange for opium, Gates supplied bin Laden with weapons, showed him how to keep an untraceable flow of money coming in, and taught him how to operate a terror network that David tells me is now called al-Qaeda. If you can find the Blake journal, you’ll have it all.
Whoever survives of that corrupt gang is undoubtedly still involved. Drugs equals money, and money equals power. That’s all these people care about. And by now, it probably has evolved into smuggling chemical and biological weapons. My hunch is that Director Watts at NIA was in deep. He was in a position to protect Gates by having Blake convicted of murdering Rook, then promoting Gates to Deputy Director.
Gates is dead, but there are others still out there – bigger than Gates and Watts. Elizabeth found out something about these people that had her scared to death. And those people might have memories of a vendetta yet to be satisfied. As long as any of the inner circle are still alive, we can’t risk coming home.
Laura sends her love. Do what’s right, my friend.
We’ll be watching from the shadows.
Regards,
Mark.’
NOTE FROM RICH JOHNSON TO LEO
‘Okay, Leo. Here’s the transcription. The ball’s in your court. But now that I’m in the middle of this, who’s going to watch my back?
Rich Johnson.’
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About the author
Rich Johnson is one of America’s best-known experts on wilderness survival and sailing. As an Army National Guard Special Forces veteran, he developed his outdoor skills further while living off the land for a year in wild Utah with his wife Becky and two young children. A regular columnist for Outdoor Life magazine, he has published hundreds of articles on outdoor subjects. He has also written another novel, Deadly Cargo, published by Endeavour Press.
Rich Johnson, Code Name
