Brown, Dale - Independent 02 (26 page)

 
          
“Admiral
Hardcastle, you addressed that question with your report and demonstration
today. Frankly I didn’t believe it was possible to seal off nearly one-fourth
of
America
’s airspace and sea approaches. You’ve shown me today, and in your
report, that it is possible— economically and operationally. I have decided to
take this proposal to the President for his review.”

 
          
Hardcastle
and Becker couldn’t help allowing a show of pleasure. Geffar held out her hand
and Hardcastle accepted it.

 
          
“Congratulations,
Admiral.”

           
The Vice President was gone for a
long time. Hardcastle and GefiFar stood with Elliott and McLanahan in the
Presidential Suite of the Hyatt Brickell Point, drinking cofiFee poured by an
armed White House steward.

 
          
“I
have to admit, General Elliott—” Hardcastle began. Elliott held up a hand to
interrupt.

 
          
“Call
me Brad, okay? I don’t much go for formality.”

 
          
“Okay.
Brad. I admit, like Long, I’m curious about you and your organization. It took
a month before I even got permission to speak to you. I know you’re located in
southern
Nevada
, little else.” “Unfortunately, I really
can’t get into it too much, Ian. We flight- test different weapon systems,
that’s about all I can say.” “Flight-test?” GefiFar said. “You must have done
some pretty amazing whiflFerdills. Even Secretary Preston seemed a little in
awe of you. Both of you.”

 
          
“As
Patrick said, we’re jet jockeys.”

 
          
“Were
you by any chance involved with that plane crash in
Alaska
last year?” GefiFar asked. “The big bomber?
I seem to recall—” “Inspector.” Elliott’s tone of voice had changed. More like
a warning. “Leave it alone.”

 
          
McLanahan
broke the tension: “Congratulations, Admiral Hardcastle. It looks like you’re
on your way.”

 
          
“You
all did a spectacular job.”

 
          
“We
followed your direction,” Elliott said.

 
          
Just
then the door of the suite opened, and three Secret Service agents strode
quickly into the suite, followed by the Vice President, his press secretary and
personal secretary.

 
          
“Sorry
to take so long. I defy any politician to ignore a shouted question, especially
one by a network anchor.” He took off his jacket, loosened his tie. “Admiral,
anything else I should know?”

 
          
“Yes
. . . after the first few months in operation, our new force might not seem to
have a lot to do. But then—”

 
          
“Maybe
you’d better explain.”

 
          
“The
smugglers aren’t stupid. They’re resourceful, and they have damn near unlimited
funds—if they can launder the cash they accumulate. Once they discover a force
the size of what we are proposing is in place, they’ll obviously try to avoid
that area. So the initial stage of the unit, with one platform such as Hammerhead
One, one shore base unit, six drones, six Sea Lion aircraft and ten fast patrol
boats can patrol an area approximately five hundred miles. If that unit is
located off
Florida
’s southeast coast, as proposed, it can interdict air and sea traffic
for a good part of south
Florida
. The smugglers will begin to circumnavigate south
Florida
. The seeming lack of activity with the new
unit will no doubt rankle a lot of critics when they try to equate the number
of busts made with the amount of money spent on the program.

 
          
“The
same thing happened when the joint Customs/Coast Guard unit established the
aerostat radar pickets over
Arizona
and
New Mexico
, the area where most of the overland air
smugglers concentrated. That program cost a billion dollars and netted only six
smugglers in six months because the smugglers avoided the area. Two of the four
aerostat units were later deactivated after they had been damaged or repaired,
and
smuggling activity promptly resumed
full force in that area.

 
          
“That
can’t be allowed to happen to the Hammerheads,” Hardcastle said, fists
clenched. “As I’ve said, the south
Florida
area is where the highest concentration of
smugglers will be found. They won’t keep traveling the area if interdiction
forces are stepped up. They’ll bide their time, decrease shipment sizes, try
other smuggling routes, to wait it out until public or financial pressure
forces interdiction efforts to decrease. Then they’ll drift back in and set up
operations as before. If we go that route.”

 
          
“You
keep mentioning this name, Hammerheads,” Martindale said. “Who the hell are the
Hammerheads? You make it up?”

 
          
“Not
exactly. Back in Prohibition days the Coast Guard—then known as the Revenue
Cutter Service and part of the Treasury Department, the same as the Customs Service—was
given the principal responsibility for liquor interdiction all over the
country. The Treasury and Customs agents were known as the ‘Revenooers’ and the
Revenue Cutter men were called the Hammerheads because of the big sledgehammers
they used to break open rum barrels when they made a seizure.”

 
          
“They
didn’t exactly have a great reputation,” Sandra Geffar added. Hardcastle looked
at her with some surprise. “I had my office check when I first heard you use
that term. The name Hammerheads was eventually given to a select Coast Guard
unit that used military weapons and tactics to intercept the large mothership
of smugglers known as blacks. Apparently they got the name Hammerheads not only
because of the rum barrels they busted, but also because of the heads they
busted.”

 
          
“You’re
well informed,” Hardcastle said, allowing a slight grin. “The Hammerheads were
rescue and lifesaving men and women that had been given a dirty, unpopular job.
They were up against well-armed adversaries, many of them Americans, some even
representing military forces of other nations—the British, French and Dutch
were notorious liquor smugglers. Most of them had never aimed a gun at another
human being until ordered to do it by the government. In a real sense it was
kill or be killed for them . . . No matter what size vessel, no matter if it
was damaged or on fire or sinking, they had to be ready not only to provide aid
but to fight off murderous smugglers—sometimes on the same sinking boat. But
what’s your point, Inspector Geffar?”

 
          
“You’re
creating another Hammerheads unit, a hundred times stronger and better equipped
than their 1926 counterparts—”

 
          
“I
disagree,” Hardcastle said irritably. “Strongly disagree.”

 
          
The
two paused, looked at the Vice President.

 
          
“I’m
familiar with Admiral Hardcastle’s background,” Martindale said, glancing at
the Coast Guard officer. “We go back a ways.”

           
“How so, sir?” Geffar asked.

 
          
“
Vietnam
. I commanded a Navy patrol squadron, some
old plywood boats going up and down the deltas. Death traps. Hardcastle and his
squads were frequent passengers. Admiral Hardcastle was in bomb disposal then.
We were always finding mines, booby traps, old weapons or bombs—the VC were
using stuff left over from the French occupation forces. Pretty dangerous
stuff—it would go off if you looked at it wrong.” He paused, remembering back.
“Bomb disposal. Shit detail.” The Vice President turned to Geffar. “Mahogany
Hammock. Both of you lost good agents in that gun battle, right?” Both nodded.

 
          
“It
was a big surprise to us,” Geffar said. “I’ve never seen the smugglers so well
armed and organized.”

 
          
“It
was the . .. incident that sort of seeded my proposal,” Hardcastle added. “I
just felt neither the Coast Guard or Customs was ready to respond to such a
display of firepower.”

 
          
“And
so the Hammerheads,” the Vice President said. “Control of the skies and sea.
Drones and sea platforms and hybrid manned airplanes. Twenty-first-century
stuff. . . Look, both of you are strong advocates of your own particular
agencies. Both of you are professionals, experts. Both of you are pilots, fixed
and rotary wing. Both are veterans in your particular services.” He motioned to
Geffar. “Sandra’s a better shot, though.”

 
          
“You’ve
never seen me in the horseshoe pits,” Hardcastle said, but he knew Martindale
was right.

 
          
“There’s
only one way Admiral Hardcastle’s proposal is going to be effective and get
over some congressional and public hurdles,” Martindale said, “and that’s if we
present a united front. I know cooperation between Customs and Coast Guard
hasn’t always been the best, but each of you has to be willing to use your
considerable influence and authority to show that we can effectively combine
our forces to the benefit of our nation’s drug-interdiction effort.

 
          
“The
way I see it, most of the air and sea interdiction assets of both the Coast
Guard and Customs must eventually be unified under this new Department of
Border Security. That means the Customs Service Air Branch effectively
disappears in five years. How do you feel about that, Sandra?”

 
          
“My
pilots are just as frustrated by the lack of leadership and the breakdown in
cooperation as anyone. But this may be taken as a slap in the face by them. As
Agent Long pointed out, they’ve been doing the job to the best of their ability
and with their limited authority for decades. Some will feel this tells them
they’ve failed.”

 
          
“Haven’t
you?” Martindale held up a hand. “Well, that didn’t come out right. My question
is, can we convince them to support this new, tougher program? It will involve
them more in pure drug interdiction and less in law enforcement. Don’t you
think they could be happy with that?”

 
          
Geffar
nodded, a very tentative nod. “I think so, I hope so, sir.”

           
“Good.” The Vice President turned
to Hardcastle. “All your Coast Guard C-model Falcons, your fast patrol
interceptors, most of your medium-range, Island-class boats, your radar
balloons—all get turned over to the Hammerheads, and a lot sooner than five
years.”

           
“That’s right. Most are transferred
immediately.”

           
“Unfortunately, the real fight will
be with Secretary Coultrane and Crandall, neither of whom like the idea of
their budgets being slashed and their assets taken away to build this new
drug-interdiction unit. But once the President gets behind the project, as I
hope and expect he will ...”

 
          
He
glanced at Elliott and McLanahan. “Whether by hook or by crook, accidental or
planned, you’ve tied up with the hottest group of aviation experimenters and
test pilots since the Wright Brothers’ bicycle shop. How did you manage that,
Admiral?”

 
          
“I
read about General Elliott in Air Force Magazine,” Hardcastle said. “I’ve had
my eye on the V-22 ever since it rolled out two years ago, and then I heard
that some unit called HAWC was flight-testing it. But when I tried to call the
general’s headquarters in
Nevada
I got a steel door slammed shut in my face. A security lid had been
placed on everything to do with HAWC like I’ve never seen before . . .”

           
“So that only piqued your interest,”
Martindale said. “You kept on going until you got to talk with someone.”

 
          
“Eventually.”

 
          
“Your
persistence will pay off, I think,” Martindale said ... “I want both of you to
spearhead this new organization, the Hammerheads,” he said. “I need both of
you. I know Admiral Hardcastle’s position.” He turned to Sandra. “Inspector
Geffar? I know you’ve only been exposed to this for a very short time. You will
want to know more and I’ll see to it that you get all the information you need.
But I need to take your name with me back to
Washington
as an advocate of this organization. I need
to tell the President, Commissioner Crandall, the U.S. Senate, and everyone in
America
that Inspector Sandra Geffar, the
number-one drug buster in the
U.S.
, is one hundred and fifty percent behind
the formation of this new organization. What do you say?”