Ecuperating - Chapter 5

“Hi Jayne!” Carl said excitedly. “I haven’t heard from you all summer! Been working hard, huh?” Carl eased back in his chair and put his feet on his desk.

“Yup!” Jayne said. “I just finished a book and you know how I am. I just had to get an idea for another one before I could relax and take some time off. I was surfing my usual idea channels and came up with a strange set of circumstances. I think there might be a book in it; HellI know there’s a book in it! But I need some background material and you came to mind, of course!”

“I’ll be glad to help, if I can, Jayne. You know that. I’ve got a bit on my plate right now, but I can get to it in a week or so. Is that soon enough?” Carl asked, lighting his perennial cigar. The help hated his cigars, but what the hell, he thought. It’s MY office and MY Company.

“That would be just fine, Carl. I’m about to head for Vegas, and I won’t be doing much until I get myself situated there. That will take me at least a week anyway.” Jayne told him.

“OK. What’s it all about?” he asked.

“All I have is a name I would like you to check out. I have a little bit of information about the man, but not much. The man’s name is Eric Tanner. He was born in 1923 in Seney, Michigan. He lived and fished in Grand Marais until about 1938 and the next I have on him is that he was Captain of the Sea Princess, a freighter carrying war material to England. Both the English and the Germans evidently cited him for valor in 1940 for saving a German submarine crew. Both he and his crew received medals from Adolph Hitler himself for that action. This is from England, not from the United States. The United States has no record of either him or his ship. It’s strange. I’ve tied him into a murder in Newberry in 1955 and the Tessinari Massacre in 1983 in New York. What I want is everything you can find on him. I’m sure I can get a book out of this!”

Jayne was still excited.

“OK, Jayne. I’ll be in contact with you. You still have the same cell number?” Carl asked.

“Yup! I’ll look forward to whatever you can find, Carl. And, thanks!”

“Don’t thank me! Just pay your bill!” Carl laughed.

Jayne left Michigan the next day at about noon, having piled her conversion van with everything she could get into it. Her computer was the last thing she packed, for she wanted to get started roughing out the new book as soon as possible when she arrived at her home in Vegas.

She didn’t recall ever being this excited about any of her prior books. She spent the first night in Green Bay, Wisconsin. The Onieda Indians had a casino there, and she decided it would be as good a place as any to stay the first night. She played a little blackjack and left early in the morning for Oklahoma City.

A little to the west of Oklahoma City on I-40 she spent her second night in a motel near the interstate. She was taking her time. No reason to rush it. She spent her third night in Grants, New Mexico and enjoyed a Chinese meal there. She had stopped there before. She knew the route well.

Early the next morning she hit the road and got all the way to Vegas by nightfall. She pulled into her driveway just about dark. The lights of Vegas to the northwest of her housing complex lit up the sky. It was good to be here. It made her feel excited.

Jayne had called her real estate people and they had readied the house for her arrival. The air was on, for the day had been quite warm for November. It was comfortable.

She smiled when she reached the kitchen. Her real estate agent had left her flowers and the coffee was on and hot. She poured a cup and relaxed in front of the TV. She looked at her watch. Only 8:30. That’s 11:30 back in the real world! She thought. I think I’ll go catch something to eat at the Excalibur and maybe play a little poker. She clicked off the TV and headed for the door. I can unpack tomorrow.

A buzzer sounded on a computer in the main offices of Personal Securities, Incorporated in the little town of Newberry, Michigan. It was one of 22 active screens in the computer complex, all manned though it was after 8 in the evening. The computer room of the firm operated full bore 24/7.

The young man in a dark suit that reminded one of the Men in Black lifted a phone and speed dialed a number. It rang twice. Then it was answered.

“We have a level 5 intrusion sir!” he told the person at the other end of the line.

“Level 5? God! We haven’t had one of those sinceHellI think it was way back in ’91. Well, you know what to do. Back track it and find out who it is.” “Yes sir.”

A level 5 intrusion of Lodge 16 had not occurred for several years. This showed an unusual interest in Lodge 16. Level 1 showed just a passing interest. Level 2 was a link from level 1 that showed the membership of the lodge.

Level 3 linked from level 2 and showed the location of Lodge 16. Level 4 linked from level 3 and promised a philosophy of the Lodge. Level 5 linked from level 4 and indicated a complete financial structure of the Lodge. “This page cannot be displayed” was the only message offered there. From there an alarm went on in a computer in the main offices of Personal Securities, Incorporated, and the president of the corporation was to be immediately notified.

The president’s phone rang again. It was picked up before the first ring was done.

“Did you find the source?” the question was asked before a word was spoken. The man knew who was on the line. “Yes,” the man in black said. “The inquiry came from the offices of Carl McNabb, a private investigator in Marquette, Michigan.”

“Thank you, Larry,” the president said. “Good job.” He hung up. Then dialed another number. The answer came immediately. “FBI, Detroit office.”