Magnolia Gods (River Sunday Romance Mysteries Book 2) Read online

  “Wall?”

  “The chairman, Wall, was trying to stop the United Nations so that he could get more war contracts. Lawson found out.”

  “Wall. You’re sure of this.” He looked at Mike and Mike nodded. Then he said, “I never realized. That company has always been a part of my life. Bernie Wall and I have known each other for a long time. Of course, since he’s been so sick, I haven’t seen him much.”

  He looked at the pictures on his wall. “All these people. I thought I knew how to judge the mind of a man. Wall. Yet, what you say makes sense. Wall was in the business of making arms. He had no reason to make peace. I guess I just never thought about it. Wall was such a nice person.”

  Vallery shook his head. “You’re suggesting that I’ve been deceived, that his people have been watching me all these years, suspecting I knew something, knew where some of their secrets were stashed, just because I played tennis with Ed Lawson. Yet, when I think about it, that’s the kind of detail that Wall was good at. He couldn’t let anything go, had to make sure he controlled everything. I used to kid him about it. My God, he did this to me.”

  Mike looked at Vallery. “We need your help. Captain Lawson needs your help. It’s a bad situation. Aviatrice killed those people to stop me from finding the plane.”

  “Killed?”

  “Those people I am accused of murdering were killed by the Aviatrice security team.”

  “My God. Maybe I could have stopped this if I’d said something when Ed took that aircraft. I don’t know what I could have done, but I should have tried.”

  “If you want it, you have a second chance to help Captain Lawson. You can help us.”

  “You found his seaplane?”

  Mike nodded. “We want to give this seaplane to the United Nations, just like Lawson tried to do.”

  “Will it still fly?”

  Mike smiled, “We think so.”

  “I’m not sure what an old man like me can do.”

  Mike said, “Help us deliver the old seaplane to the United Nations.”

  “The UN is different these days,” said Vallery. “It’s all grown up. I’m not sure anyone there even cares like they did in the old days. A 1946 airplane won’t raise any interest.”

  “You can make them interested,” said Mike. “They’ll listen to you. You can make Captain Lawson‘s death mean something.”

  The old man steadied himself against his table. Mike moved to help him.

  “It’s all right,” said Vallery. “This is a little more excitement than my tennis. Still, I can take it.”

  “Can we count on you?”

  “The United Nations won’t have many administrators in their offices on the Fourth of July. Even to the staff from other countries, the Fourth is still a day off.” He slapped his hands together. “Look, I’ll do whatever it takes. You get the airplane up here.”

  Mike raised his hand to caution Vallery. “This seaplane is in Maryland. A large group of very innocent people may be hurt, if we don’t succeed in getting it turned over to the right authorities.”

  Vallery took Mike by the arm. “It’s hard to believe that Bernie Wall has been watching me ever since the Lawson hearing. All those years. On the other hand, I’ve got an answer to a question that has been bothering me lately. I’ve have been asking myself why the Aviatrice chairman moved next to me out of all the places he could have lived.” He smiled. “You’ve given me an awful lot, young man.”

  Mike said, “That tennis player. He saw me here. I don’t know whether he is involved. Unfortunately, Aviatrice has a lot of money at stake and he’s a pretty high level man. If he does know about Aviatrice secrets, then he’ll want to report me right away.”

  Vallery moved towards the door. “Let’s not take a chance. Come on. I’ve got to get out of here. I need to get to New York and go to work on some friends at the United Nations.”

  As they walked through the back garden to Mike’s truck, Vallery said, “Ditch the seaplane in the small lake like the Captain had planned. The Captain was smart. He knew what that would do to the bureaucracy just figuring out who would remove the machine from the lake. It’s no different today. That would give us plenty of time for negotiations.”

  “Negotiations?”

  “You don’t think the United States is going to give the United Nations anything, even a fifty year old airplane without negotiations, do you? You haven’t been around the diplomatic world, my boy. Unless I miss my guess, though, that seaplane and the documents you have will make sure the negotiations go very much against the interests of Aviatrice and Bernie Wall.”

  The housekeeper was arguing with someone at the front door.

  “My truck’s down the other side of your place,” said Mike. “I don’t think you want to see these people at the door. If it’s who I think it is, I’ve dealt with them before.”

  “I know a place,” said Vallery, excitement in his voice.

  “Let’s go, Mr. Ambassador.”

  Vallery touched Mike’s arm and Mike looked back at the old man. Vallery said softly, “Thank you for coming here, for giving me a chance to make this right and to get back my self-respect.”

  Mike handed him the copy of the diary. “Read it and give it to the press if you think it will help.”

  Vallery stared at Mike, grim faced.

  Mike guessed what the old diplomat was thinking. He said, “That diary will implicate you, Mr. Ambassador.”

  Vallery shook his head, “You don’t understand. I’m not afraid of that. Captain Lawson was right to do what he did. I’m just worried that I can’t accomplish all that you need in time. That’s all that matters.”

  Chapter Twenty

  5:30 PM July 4

  Southern New Jersey

  Mike drove several hours to get Vallery to his hiding place. Vallery described the place as a safe house, once kept by the State Department for special diplomatic visitors, and sold to him years ago as a place where, when he was still active in diplomatic circles, he could get away from the public and where the ownership was untraceable.

  “I set up this place mostly to get away from the press. When I was active as a State Department regular, those “short order historians,” or reporters as they call themselves, used to mix up almost every speech I made and once in a while I’d just get tired to trying to correct their articles.” He still had several telephone lines there and assured Mike that, if his friends at State and the UN were available, he could get the necessary liaison with the United Nations. He also advised Mike that reliable friends in the press would be called, as well as contacts in Washington.

  Vallery’s plan was simple enough. As they drove along, he explained how he thought the action would unfold. First, it was important for Mike and his associates to get the plane into the possession of the United Nations quickly. If Mike and his friends could not fly the plane, then perhaps he, Vallery, could induce that organization to send a team to Maryland to truck it out in pieces. Whatever, the plane should be placed in the United Nation’s secure hands in New York as soon as possible. He smiled and insisted that a belly landing in the small Lake Success, with the inherent difficulty for anyone to retrieve or move the seaplane, and with the obvious difficulty of keeping the landing from the eyes of the press, would serve just perfectly. He said that once the press had ahold of the story, much would happen anyway. Mike added that he and Jesse thought that the press coverage was successful so far and that Captain Lawson was being given a new look by the modern audience.

  Vallery said that he thought so too. In his mind the second step would be negotiations with Aviatrice and the United States Government on the future of the plane’s technology. Vallery thought these would be very simple negotiations as the plane was more a museum piece than anything of value to national defense. In his opinion, the negotiation would be a formality. More important would be a verdict as to Lawson’s guilt or innocence.

  As Mike drove away, he was no longer concerned about Vallery’s safety. Val
lery, he knew now, was too visible a celebrity to be targeted or hurt by Aviatrice. The press would ask many questions if something happened to the famous old man.

  A few miles down the road, he checked his rear view mirror again. So far so good. No one had followed him to Vallery’s cottage, of that he was sure. He watched for police. He suspected that Bullard was in Maryland still trying to trace where Mike had gone after he escaped from the airport. He was sure that the Volkswagen had been found and would soon be announced by the police.

  If Jessica succeeded in finding the seaplane, and if she could destroy the documents on the plane that implicated Aviatrice and her father, Jessica would be well on her way to becoming the next powerful leader of Aviatrice. She and her father, as long as either of them lived, would then be untouchable. Mike suspected more retribution would come, accompanied with more problems for Jesse with the banks, and certainly a loss of the Museum’s financing from all of Aviatrice’s friends in aviation.

  Jessica had plenty of motive to push for a quick resolution. Wall must have convinced her that if he died before the plane was found, she might be alone in explaining any discoveries. He would no longer be the scapegoat. On top of that, she would no longer have his support in staying at the top of Aviatrice. She was smart enough to know she might be left paying the bill, so to speak, someone the stockholders would want to remove from public sight, and was also smart enough, on the other hand, to see the gain if she could pull it off.

  Mike smiled. Ironically, Jessica had the same family loyalty that Jesse had. Her family had much at stake just like Jesse’s family. Like Jesse, she had to find her way out of a 1946 nightmare. Unfortunately for her, if she misplayed the game, she and Jesse could change places. He could become the hero’s grandson and she the traitor’s daughter. Jessica had only to look at Jesse’s life to see what kind of fate awaited her if she failed. The Lawson family had lost everything from the stigma of this crime and were called enemies of the country. To a company like Aviatrice, that stigma would be an equal disaster. Mike knew that a venture firm like Aviatrice operated on its good name. Accused of being traitors, of trying to upset American foreign policy by faking an attack on an enemy nation, the smell of treachery would end this goodwill. For financial reasons, if nothing else, Wall and Jessica had to stop at nothing to save themselves.

  He was becoming more worried about the village, about Robin, about Jeremy and the others. Mike thought about calling ahead. Jeremy had given him another cell phone, but the battery was long dead. He hoped the seaplane could be delivered to the United Nations without a fight. However, he knew getting the plane out of the creek without detection would be difficult and the long flight to New York would be hazardous. Aviatrice would have an opportunity to intercept them, and that was beside the risk of the seaplane’s coming up against regular government military defenses against unidentified aircraft. A fight with Wall and his cohorts at Aviatrice was highly likely, and it would be a deadly fight. This was more than the prizefighting duels that he had in college against other students. This was fighting to the finish, fighting to kill the opponent. His main worry was that this fight would take place at the village where many innocent people would be hurt.

  He thought about Robin and smiled when he remembered the chase through the cornfield, her bravery and the song coming on the radio. The tune went through his mind, and the rhythm of the beat timed with the drumming of the truck tires on the New Jersey Turnpike, as he approached the Delaware Memorial Bridge.

  “Don’t sit under the apple tree with anyone else but me,anyone else but me, anyone else but me, no, no, no, don’t sit under the apple tree with anyone else but me, til I come marching home.”

  This would be like his father’s combat during the war. His father had said that when the battle started, right and wrong became irrelevant. All that mattered was winning and winning meant killing the other guy.

  When Mike got to the village, night had come on, and as he drove among the fields he had to use his headlights. Strangely, the beams began to pick up large shapes along the side of the narrow roads, shapes like great rectangular boxes. As he passed the strange containers, he slowed down and began to see that the boxes were not boxes at all but huge harvesting machines, great combines with small windowed driver’s areas in the front. More than twenty of the machines were parked along the way up to the village entry, intermixed with as many flat bed trucks. Each was pulled carefully to the side of the road, the huge ribbed tractor tires perched on the sides of the ditches so as to keep the machines almost level. No men were near the machines, although the equipment appeared primed for a major harvesting effort. Some of the machines were parked so that he could see the markings, Lawson Harvesting Company, on the sides. Jesse had told him he had work in this area. Mike had not realized it was so close to the village. Mike suspected these machines were easily enough for ten or more large farms.

  After he passed the last of the silent machines, he drove slowly through loblolly woods near Hobble’s village and parked in a small clearing. He shut off the engine and listened. The night was quiet. He wondered why he heard none of the usual animal and insect noises.

  He left the truck and began to walk toward the village, feeling his way. He thought about a flashlight but decided that he should be more careful and not show a light until he knew what was going on. Slowly, using starlight, he felt his way along the woodland road.

  Suddenly he heard a branch snap. He stopped and brought his fists up into his boxer’s stance. In the darkness he could see nothing.

  “Mike, it’s me, Jesse,” came a familiar voice. Mike put down his fists and waited for Jesse to come forward. In a moment he could make out his form in the starlight.

  “Relax,” said Jesse. “I’m on your side.”

  “Jesse.”

  “I’ve been waiting for you,” Jesse replied. “Come on. They’re all down at the creek working on the plane.”

  The village was deserted as they crossed the open common in front of the silent darkened village houses.

  “Where is everyone?” asked Mike. “Is Robin all right?”

  Jesse nodded. “Hobble’s kid, the one with the blonde hair, well, he ratted us out, Mike.”

  “When?”

  “He told Bullard where the plane was,” said Jesse.

  “Why?”

  “Who knows why kids do anything?” Jesse said. “Anyway, he came home afterward. It didn’t take the boy long to figure out they were not the kind of people he could trust. He feels real bad about it. He came back and told his father. His father forgave him, but that didn’t help us. We decided the villagers would be safer out of here, away from the seaplane if Aviatrice tries to take it.”

  “Where are they?” asked Mike.

  “The villagers are staying at a farm nearby.”

  Jesse smiled and said. “I figured Hobble deserved all the help I could give him. I called in my people on the radio I have in the Jeep.”

  “That’s a lot for employees to do,” said Mike, sounding surprised. “They must realize the danger in this.”

  “Not a man or woman declined to help,” said Jesse, pride in his voice. “Came right in here like a rescue squad. Got them assembled and marched them out.”

  Jesse went on. “You ask why the kid did it. I think he thought he’d get a job from Aviatrice.”

  “I can imagine how happy Bullard was to see him,” said Mike.

  “They’ll come at night, I figure,” said Jesse. “That’s why we’re trying to get the plane off. Once the plane is gone the village will be all right.”

  “Hobble still here?” asked Mike.

  “He went with the townspeople. He left Regal to run the airplane. Robin is studying the flight controls and Jeremy is still trying to keep the plane from sinking.”

  Jesse paused then added. “His father told the kid to come along with the villagers, but the boy wanted to stay and fight.”

  Mike thought back to the day he had failed to fly the rescue m
ission. He knew how the boy felt. He knew about trying to get the record corrected. Hobble had done the right thing. He had forgiven his son. Mike had not been so fortunate. His father had said nothing, never referring again to the moment of his own son’s mistake. As a result it stayed there between the two of them, until his father’s death, and it still rotted in Mike’s brain, unresolved. Yes, Mike thought, this kid is lucky.

  “Jonathan and the kid are holding a boat for us to row out to the plane.”

  “You got her out into the river again?” asked Mike.

  “Jeremy got her leaks stopped after a fashion,” said Jesse.

  “Did you tow her up the creek enough for takeoff?” asked Mike.

  “Robin did the math. We’ve got a flight path cleared,” Jesse said. He signaled to Mike to be quiet. They were moving into the cornfield that led to the river. Two figures came out of the corn.

  Jonathan said from the darkness, “It’s me and the kid.”

  They greeted each other and spoke in low tones.

  “Who was there,” Mike asked the young man, “when you met with Aviatrice?”

  The teenager’s voice shook, a far different voice from the angry one Mike had heard at the store. “I went down to River Sunday and asked around. One of their guys was in town watching the Lawson Company. He made a call and then we waited for a few hours. Finally, he took me to the Chesapeake Hotel, up to the second floor. A big security guy in camo clothes met us in the hall, looked at me for a moment and then pushed me into a room.”

  “A woman was in the room, a tall mean looking person, and the security guy said to her, ‘This is the kid says he knows about the plane.’”

  “That would be Jessica Veal,” said Mike.

  “Yeah, he called the woman Jessica,” the kid answered. “She called him Bullard.”

  “So Jessica came down here for this,” said Mike. “She doesn’t want any mistakes made.”

  “They sat me down and asked me over and over about where the plane was. I remember Bullard said one time, ‘That’s how we missed it. It was under that tent all the time.’