Orchid Beach

“I bet he doesn’t have the authority to do that without orders,” Ham said, “and if there’s no power, he’s not going to get any orders.”

“There’s radio, but we can jam all the frequencies they use. Still, I’d like him taken out first thing after the power goes.”

“We can do that. I’ll give you odds that when the power goes and his radio doesn’t work, he’ll walk outside for a look around, to see what’s going on.”

“I hope it’s that easy.”

“If it isn’t, we can do it the hard way.”

“Use your own judgment, but take him alive, if you can. I want all the witnesses I can get.”

“Right. You got stun grenades?”

“Yep.”

“That should do it, in a pinch.”

Harry turned to Bill, who was standing behind him. “Pick twelve men and assign them to Ham. Make sure they understand that he’s in complete charge, then have them get the necessary equipment together. Ham can brief them on what he wants to do.”

Bill left the group.

Ed returned, clutching a sheet of paper. “Harry, Miami Center said six international flights came in the day before yesterday, eleven yesterday, and thirty-three more today. They’re from all over everywhere—Europe, the Caymans, Mexico, the Dutch Antilles—you name it.”

“Appalachin,” Holly said.

Harry turned to Holly. “Where do you want to be in all this?”

“At the security station,” Holly replied. “I want Barney, Harry. He killed Chet Marley and Hank Doherty. I can prove it, and I want him for that before you get your crack at him.”

“He probably killed Rita Morales, too,” Harry said.

“You might not be able to make that stick, but I’ve got a witness who can put Barney in the electric chair.”

“I’ll talk to the U.S. attorney about it,” Harry said.

“I want him in my custody from the moment he’s arrested,” Holly said. “In my jail.”

“Okay, done.”

“Then if the U.S. attorney wants him, he’ll have to sue me.”

Harry grinned. “I can live with that. We’ll want to interrogate him at some length, though.”

“In my jail,” Holly said.

“All right.”

“Something we’ve got to consider,” Holly said. “Whatever security people are on duty in the middle of the night are going to be patrolling, so they’ll be loose on the landscape and will have to be dealt with accordingly. I doubt if there will be more than one or two men at the security station, and Barney won’t be one of them. He’ll be at home in bed, and we don’t know where home is, yet.”

“Good point,” Harry said.

“I reckon we’ll find out at the security station where Barney lives, and then I want to go after him. If we’re lucky, if this goes well, he won’t know we’re on the grounds until we’re cuffing him.”

“And if we’re not lucky?”

“Then he may elect to shoot at us. I’m ready for that, I think.”

“Right,” Harry said. He turned to Jackson. “You can hang out at the command post with me.”

“Sounds fine,” Jackson said.

“What about me?” Hurd Wallace said.

“I’d like you with me,” Holly replied.

“Good. I’d like a crack at Barney Noble, too.”

“Okay,” Harry said. “Have some coffee and doughnuts, everybody. In a few minutes we’ll meet with the team that’s assigned to the security station, and you can be privy to all their planning.”

Holly and Hurd wandered over to the coffee urn and helped themselves.

“Jesus,” Hurd said, “this is really going to be something, isn’t it?”

“Yeah,” Holly agreed. “I just hope it goes the way Harry wants it to.”

CHAPTER

58

At two A.M., after nearly eight hours of briefings and planning, Holly, with Daisy by her side, sat sweating in the front seat of an FBI van, half a mile north of the main gate of Palmetto Gardens. She was armed with a silenced pistol, four stun grenades, a truncheon and pepper spray, and she was wearing a black jumpsuit with FBI stamped on the back, full body armor and a black Kevlar helmet. Behind her were a dozen more vehicles filled with men and equipment, and half a mile south of the main gate sat another dozen vehicles, their engines idling. Another group waited on Jungle Trail, near the back gate. Holly had pulled all her OBPD patrol cars off the north end of the island, to avoid any confusion. She knew that two men had worked their way on foot to within yards of the front-gate guard shack, and similar preparations had been made at the rear service gate.

At the same hour, Harry Crisp sat at a table in the gymnasium, a radio operator and Jackson Oxenhandler seated on either side of him. Jackson held a telephone in his hand, with an open line to the power company, which was standing by to cut the electricity supply to the whole of Palmetto Gardens.

“Don’t tell them until I tell you,” Harry said to Jackson.

Jackson nodded.

In the Indian River, half a mile north of the entrance to the Palmetto Gardens marina, Ham sat in the bottom of a Boston Whaler, paddling steadily. He led his little flotilla into the creek that meandered through the salt marsh, and they proceeded steadily toward the riverbank until the shallow-draft boats began to touch bottom. Ham held up a hand, a signal to sit still and be quiet. He waited several minutes, listening, and then, with his silenced pistol in hand, he stepped out of the whaler and waded slowly toward dry ground. It took him only a minute or so to find the break in the thick underbrush that he had used before, and a minute after that he was through to Palmetto Gardens. He stopped and listened for a time while he slipped on a pair of night goggles and looked around. Seeing nothing, he spoke into a handheld radio.

“One,” he said, then held the radio to his ear.

“One,” he heard Harry Crisp repeat.

“Ham’s ashore,” Harry said to the people in the gym.

The men waiting in the whalers heard the same transmission and began leaving the boats and wading toward shore.

Ham stood and counted the men as they emerged from the brush. When he was sure they were all with him, he spoke into the radio again.

“Two,” he said, then listened for Harry’s repetition of the number. He held up one finger, and two men stepped forward. He pointed in the direction of the Jungle Trail gate, and they trotted silently off in that direction. He held up two fingers, and two more men stepped forward. He started them toward the standby generator.

Holly, in her van, heard the number two spoken. “They’re in,” she said. “We’ve got four to six minutes to wait.”

The man at the wheel nodded and heaved a deep sigh.

His men dispersed on their various errands, Ham beckoned for the two remaining to follow him. They set off