Dad had purchased the LP about thirty years ago. That was long before the internet when a customer would purchase an album without really knowing how it would sound. Whenever Dad purchased one he did not like, he always called it a “dud” and carefully put it away never to play it again. Dad would take him along on the trips to the record store and he would help comb the racks for something that might be interesting. Dad seldom listened to the radio as he was not interested in rock ‘n roll and for the most part was “buying blind.”
“This looks like a good one,” he announced when he found the Dukes. “It says here that they play in Las Vegas and that they had to stick them in a back room because the customers were drawn away from the slot machines.” The irony held an appeal for him and he took the chance laid down his $2.95 and had his member’s card punched. On the way home they had to stop in at the Radio Shack, pretend to be shopping then get the battery card punched on the way out. “Ten punches and they give you a battery,” he said as he stuck it in his back pocket.
When they arrived home, Dad ripped open the plastic wrap and touched the needle to the vinyl. He could tell in ten seconds if he was going to like it or not. He played the Dukes over and over for nearly a week. “They are quite amazing don’t you think, son?”
“They are the best Dad. You came out alright on that one.”
Robinson opened the cabinet drawer next to the records. Nearly a hundred or so batteries were still there neatly arranged. He would need to throw them out as some were starting to leak acid. He might buy some new ones. Dad would like that.
Mom had gone into the kitchen and made sandwiches from a bag of groceries they had brought on the rented Cessna. He decided to leave the CJ3 in DC as this was a personal trip and he did not want to use up his four allowed perks. She said, “Honey. Do you want one or two?” believing that Dad was listening to the records. The Alzheimer’s was at work playing its deadly game.
“Dad wants one. He is not that hungry.”
Life — it was often bittersweet. Robinson began to come to terms with his own mortality and knew that there would forever be an empty place in his heart from that day forward.
An hour later they drove down the street to Carol’s old house and stood out front with the white picket fence. Mom started to walk up the sidewalk and Robinson held her back. “Carol is not home right now. We’ll come back another time, Mom.”
“She is a good girl. She loved to go with you to the beach. I always thought she might be the girl for you.”
“She was much younger than me — too young.”
“You are right. She was a good girl. She still calls me. Did you know that?”
“Yes, you let me know every time she calls.”
“And she always asks about you.”
“Yes Mom.”
“She works for the Red Cross.”
“I remember.” He turned her around and they stepped into the auto. Robinson wondered if it would be the last time his mother would ever see Carols’ house. They sped off for DC and never looked back.
Robinson briefed Landenberger on the discussion with Harazi. He handed the slip of paper the prime minister had given to him to pass along. “He said you would know who this is.”
Landenberger read it and sat back in his leather chair. “I see.” He suddenly looked very serious, his brow furrowed. “Did he say how he happened to obtain this name?”
“He did not offer and I did not ask.”
“Did he tell you who this man is?”
“Yes he did so we might as well be open about this.”
“This is supposed to be top secret information and known only to a few world leaders and he was not one of them.”
“I imagine someone at the top let him in on it.” Robinson poured himself a cup of decaffeinated coffee. “He wants this man released into his custody as they want to use him to infiltrate the Iranian nuke program. He thinks of the man as a powerful weapon.”
“I had never thought of Chris LE Blanc quite that way. They call him ‘The Wizard’. He was a wise guy accountant for one of the Brooklyn operations and set out on his own when they turned on him for embezzlement. We tend to capture the criminals in our country, then lock them away and forget them.”
Robinson poured himself a cup of coffee and placed a second cup on Landenberger’s desk. “We might be wise to keep him for ourselves,” he suggested.
“That would be a turn of events, would it not?” He stirred two cubes of sugar into the coffee and looked at his watch. “Maybe in time we could use his talents. I would hate to think we could not find an honest citizen with the same talent. He probably told you how dangerous he is when he is near a computer.”
“He did promise that they had the means to keep him under control.”
“We have been supplying Israel with military hardware for years and imagine this could be a part of that. They would not have asked unless it was important to them.”
“It is about their only hope. They have been trying to get operatives inside Iran, set up snitches and such, and have not had much success. This is how they plan to do it.”
“Did he happen to mention any details about what they plan to do once they have him?”
“I did not think it was my business. Some things it is best not to know.”
“I suppose you are right — there would not be much point in making a lot of plans and then find you don’t have the talent to pull it off.”
“It could be that it is a vague idea and they would narrow it down once they have him in hand. It is likely that the Wizard would have ideas that they could not imagine.”
“Yes the criminal mind thinks much differently. He will have ideas of his own, I would bet.” He pushed back his chair and placed his hands behind his head. “They want him. They can have him.” He swiveled around and stood looking out the window. “I’ll get this going immediately. Be sure to keep this under your hat. You can freely discuss this with Deshano as he is the only other person who knows about this.”
He glanced at his watch.
The phone rang.
He answered, “I’ll be there in ten minutes,” then hung up. “It is time for our appointment with the Pentagon. They said they might have something by now.” The pair walked down the hall with the DSS trailing behind.
Five-star General Duke McCallister stood in front of a plasma screen live satellite feed addressing Bumgardner, Deshano, Costanzo, and the military brass. Landenberger and Robinson walked into the briefing war room and. everyone started to rise to their feet however the president waved them back. “OK — let’s see what you have for me today.” The pair found chairs at the front.
“It appears that the targets are very much stationary and spread somewhat randomly throughout the Sea of Oman and the Arabian Sea.” He used a pointer as he talked. “We know that there are somewhere around six to eight Somalia Marines armed with AK-47’s, RPG’s and pistols aboard each one. They have ten hostages on each vessel and they keep everybody hidden inside the hull. They are smart enough not to expose themselves although we have a pretty good idea that they keep everyone in the sailors’ quarters. Our infrared technology doesn’t help that much as the decks are made of steel, but that is not that important to the mission as our men can search the ship quickly and remove the hostages regardless of where they might be found. Our mission is to remove the hostages and to secure each tanker simultaneously. Anything less would not be effective as they are in communication with each other via an undetected command center. We imagine it is somewhere on the coast of Oman.