Sam and his friends sat inside the gracious Ford Tudor motorcar. The lovely lady had been the best of her time.
The Boeing BC-17 Globemaster III landed with surprising ease along Runway 27, Duluth’s longest landing strip. The monstrous cargo carrier applied its reverse thrust and used up every inch of the 10,162 feet of concrete runway. The aircraft immediately taxied, following the three F16s that had been escorting them, into the 148th Fighter Wing — Minnesota Air National Guard’s base, which shared the civilian international airport.
The Globemaster III came to a complete stop.
Over the intercom, Sam heard the pilot say, “All right, Mr. Reilly. We’re now inside the 148th Fighter Wing’s Airbase. I hope you know what you’re doing. Good luck.”
Sam turned around to see Virginia in the front passenger seat and Tom stretched out in the saloon style backseat. “You might want to buckle your seatbelts.”
Tom said, “We don’t have any seatbelts.”
Sam raised his hands, palm upward, shooting him a devil-may-care shrug. “What are you going to do?”
The flight crew removed the vehicle tiedowns and opened the massive hydraulic cargo tail door. Sam pushed his foot down firm on the heavy 1920s style clutch, pushed the gearstick into reverse, removed the handbrake and accelerated down the steel ramp onto the tarmac. He swung the wheel around, changed into first gear, and headed toward the gated guardhouse toward the end of the 178th Fighter Wing Airbase.
Two soldiers stepped out to greet him. Sam slowed the car to a stop, his eyes glancing over the two men. He recognized the blue beret of an Air Force Security Officer on one of the men. The other gentleman was wearing full Service Dress Uniform with the insignia of a silver eagle dominating the Great Seal of the United States across his left chest, indicating that he was an Air Force Colonel.
“Sir,” Sam addressed the Colonel.
“You must be Sam Reilly,” the Colonel replied coolly. Without waiting for a response, he said, “I don’t know what your connection to the Secretary of Defense is, but all I can say is that you have friends in some very high places. I have questions — many extremely sensible questions. Despite the fact that the FBI made an official request to have my F16s locate your Globemaster and bring you back to the Minneapolis Airport — I’ve been ordered to let you through, no questions asked.”
Sam remained silent. It was a tactical move. Years in the Marines had taught him when to keep his mouth shut.
“Do you have anything to say?” the Colonel asked.
“No, sir.”
“Very well. On your way, son.”
Sam grinned. “Thank you, sir.”
The Air Force Security Officer opened the gate and Sam drove through. Once out of the Airbase, he accelerated hard. The car had been extensively upgraded from its original specifications back in the 1920s to make it a more formidable rum runner during Prohibition. Nearly a hundred years old, it still had plenty of power in its engine.
Virginia asked, “Where are we going?”
Sam turned south onto Route 53. “Fond-du-Luth Casino.”
She cocked a skeptical eyebrow. “A casino?”
“Yeah, why?” Sam put his foot down and quickly took the Tudor up to 65 miles per hour. “Are you feeling lucky?”
“Sure, but I still don’t know how we’re going to get my dad back. In case you’ve forgotten, he’s still being held prisoner by either David Perry or Rachel Murphy.”
“Don’t’ worry about it.” He shot her a glance, waggled his eyebrows up and down. “I’ve got a plan.”
Fifteen minutes later, Sam pulled up to main entrance of the Fond-du-Luth Casino. A valet in a tuxedo opened the door for him. The three of them climbed out the doors. Sam handed the valet the keys and a hundred-dollar tip. “Be sure to take good care of this grand old lady. She’s on loan from my father and he’s going to kill me if I bring her back with any dents.”
The valet handed him a ticket. “Yes, of course. We’ll take very good care of her.”
Sam and Tom entered the Casino.
Virginia stared at him, her mouth agape.
“What?” Sam asked without stopping.
“You’re just going to leave the car with the valet. Did you forget there’s the entire wealth of the Confederacy still inside the car?”
Sam shrugged. “Technically, the valet’s going to park the Tudor in the commercial parking lot and then leave it on its own… but no, I didn’t forget about the gold. How could I? It felt like I was driving a heavy boat the damned thing was so overladen.”
“Are you nuts?”
“Don’t worry about it. Besides, it’s been seen around here for the past nine decades. No one’s stolen the gold yet, so why would they start now? In fact, here’s probably the safest place for it. If we’d left it under guard somewhere, someone would be bound to get suspicious.”
Sam continued walking, moving with the determined stride of a professional soldier. Like a cargo ship, Tom sailed through in a similar manner, the big man leaving waitresses and customers alike, trailing in his wake.
Virginia asked, “So are you going to tell me what we’re doing here?”
“Not here,” Sam said, as he opened the back exit at the far end of the casino. “The marina across the road from here.”
“Okay, what are we doing at the marina?”
“Getting on a boat of course. Keep up with me, will you?”
Virginia laughed. “A lot of people changed after Afghanistan. Not you. You haven’t changed one bit since I first met you.”
Sam crossed the road, and started heading along the jetty until he reached the marina. A security gate blocked them from going any farther. He rifled through his wallet and removed a digital key. He swiped it on the security door. The light flashed green and the gate opened.
Sam raised his palms upwards and grinned. “Hey, what do you know, it still works.”
Sam walked to the last finger of the marina, where a sleek Blohn and Voss sports cruiser was tied up. On the transom of her carbon fiber hull were the words, Annabelle May.
He and Tom untied the mooring lines and stepped onto the splendid teak deck. Merely moments after Virginia boarded, the sports cruiser’s powerful twin MTU Rolls Royce engines started up. Sam casually went about the business of putting away the side fenders and mooring lines.
When he was done, Sam headed toward the bridge.
At the helm was a slim woman in her mid-twenties with facial features that betrayed a Eurasian ancestry. Slightly shorter than the average American female of this generation, she wore cargo pants and a light blue polo shirt. Her arms were toned and muscular suggesting a lifestyle that required regular exercise. Captain of the vessel, she maneuvered the large pleasure cruiser out of the marina with the adept agility of a seasoned sailor.
Once outside the narrow channel of the marina, she turned to face them, her striking violet eyes on Sam. “Welcome back.”
Sam smiled. “Virginia, meet my computer hacker, and probably just about the smartest person to ever live, Elise.”
“Pleased to meet you,” Virginia said.
Elise nodded. “Likewise.”
Sam looked at Elise. “Well?”
“Hey Tom, takeover while I show Sam why he pays me the big bucks.”
Tom took the helm. “Where am I headed?”
Elise grinned. “To Isle Royale, of course. We have a meeting. It would be rude to be late.”
Chapter Sixty-Nine
Sam and Virginia followed Elise to the navigation station, where her laptop was open. Virginia inhaled deeply. “Is that honest to God percolated coffee I smell?
Elise gestured to an alcove. Virginia poured herself a cup. “Anyone else?”
“Sure,” Sam said, dropping into a comfortable chair.