Harper licked his
lips as he looked down mournfully at the shattered
bottle.
Trent passed him a pen and paper, “Write down where
I can contact you.” He tossed bills on the table, got up and
left.
“ From what we learned, your Harper
had a bad attitude,” Simons offered with a tight grin. “There must
have been plenty of old gunners on the beach?”
“ How many have fired a 16-incher?
Try one hand. Had Harper settled to rock bottom, too deep to
resurface? Would the chance at five million bring him back? I could
only guess. He did prove to be a loner, an odd-man out where I
needed teamwork. My sixth sense left me wary; but Madden was sold
on him. Did Harper deserve a second chance? Was he worth the
effort? In hindsight – no.”
“ I am surprised he didn’t take
your cash and run,” Simons gloated.
“ You mean drown himself in
booze.”
“ Most likely.”
“ But, he didn’t.”
~ * * * ~
CHAPTER 6
A steady, cool breeze that blew in off Puget Sound
made the day feel spring-like. Behind the wheel of his ‘65 red
Mustang, Trent bypassed the press of traffic by avoiding arterials,
using shortcuts and ducking down one-way streets. With a squeal of
brakes, he pulled into the passenger pickup area at the main
entrance to the Olympic Hotel. He shut off the engine, checked his
watch and waited, his mind buzzing at the speed of events. A yellow
Corvette with a black hardtop pulled up alongside. The driver tried
to back into the space behind him – she didn’t make it. Again, she
tried and failed. The doorman watched. Trent watched. Everybody
standing around turned to watch. She seemed confused behind the
wheel. Trent stared in his rearview mirror, a pleasant way to kill
time, he thought, yet fearing for his cherished red Mustang. The
doorman, in an attempted rescue, jogged over, but too late: she
jolted the Mustang. A yellow Corvette door swung open and out
stepped a tall, slender, woman outfitted in an eye-catching emerald
green outfit. Her blonde hair was drawn straight back and gathered
in a knot. She bent over as Trent rolled down his car window.
“ Sorry I bumped you,” she
said
“ That’s O.K., you can bump me
anytime.”
“ It’s new. I’ve only had it a
week. I’m afraid to park it.”
“ No harm done,” Trent stared at
her.
“ Do you think it’s alright to
leave it there?”
“ It’s not my hotel,” a limp
response he quickly regretted. Her laugh was vivacious. “Well, I’d
better be on my way,” she walked towards the hotel entrance, but
stopped before a small boutique shop, the Holiday Fur Shoppe. Her
outfit was clingy with folds appearing where motion captured the
material. In one graceful, unexpected turn, her female wiles
energized, she caught his eye, waved, and then entered the Shoppe.
A young woman seated at a desk near the window raised her head.
Their conversation turned lively, then agitated.
“ How long have you been sitting
here?” Newby asked.
“ Just got here,” Newby opened the
door and got in. Trent caught a glimpse of the blonde waving. Trent
was sure it was a missed opportunity, but it made little difference
as he had more pressing matters. He started up the
engine.
“ A friend of yours?” Newby
asked.
“ No.”
“ You mean, not yet,” Newby
grinned.
“ Never saw her before and probably
won’t again.”
“ Never, say never,” Newby, added
with a chuckle as they sped away. “Have you read this morning’s
Seattle Post-Intelligencer yet?
“ Only had time for the headlines
and ball scores.”
“ Then, you haven’t read the second
section.”
Missouri to sail to Long Beach. “That’s the
lead; the article is buried here on page six.” The Navy
announced this morning a two-year, $450 million dollar
modernization program for the battleship Missouri, now moored at
the Puget Sound Naval Shipyard. The ship will be towed December 1st
to Long Beach where she will undergo installation of Tomahawk and
Harpoon missiles –
lips as he looked down mournfully at the shattered
bottle.
Trent passed him a pen and paper, “Write down where
I can contact you.” He tossed bills on the table, got up and
left.
“ From what we learned, your Harper
had a bad attitude,” Simons offered with a tight grin. “There must
have been plenty of old gunners on the beach?”
“ How many have fired a 16-incher?
Try one hand. Had Harper settled to rock bottom, too deep to
resurface? Would the chance at five million bring him back? I could
only guess. He did prove to be a loner, an odd-man out where I
needed teamwork. My sixth sense left me wary; but Madden was sold
on him. Did Harper deserve a second chance? Was he worth the
effort? In hindsight – no.”
“ I am surprised he didn’t take
your cash and run,” Simons gloated.
“ You mean drown himself in
booze.”
“ Most likely.”
“ But, he didn’t.”
~ * * * ~
CHAPTER 6
A steady, cool breeze that blew in off Puget Sound
made the day feel spring-like. Behind the wheel of his ‘65 red
Mustang, Trent bypassed the press of traffic by avoiding arterials,
using shortcuts and ducking down one-way streets. With a squeal of
brakes, he pulled into the passenger pickup area at the main
entrance to the Olympic Hotel. He shut off the engine, checked his
watch and waited, his mind buzzing at the speed of events. A yellow
Corvette with a black hardtop pulled up alongside. The driver tried
to back into the space behind him – she didn’t make it. Again, she
tried and failed. The doorman watched. Trent watched. Everybody
standing around turned to watch. She seemed confused behind the
wheel. Trent stared in his rearview mirror, a pleasant way to kill
time, he thought, yet fearing for his cherished red Mustang. The
doorman, in an attempted rescue, jogged over, but too late: she
jolted the Mustang. A yellow Corvette door swung open and out
stepped a tall, slender, woman outfitted in an eye-catching emerald
green outfit. Her blonde hair was drawn straight back and gathered
in a knot. She bent over as Trent rolled down his car window.
“ Sorry I bumped you,” she
said
“ That’s O.K., you can bump me
anytime.”
“ It’s new. I’ve only had it a
week. I’m afraid to park it.”
“ No harm done,” Trent stared at
her.
“ Do you think it’s alright to
leave it there?”
“ It’s not my hotel,” a limp
response he quickly regretted. Her laugh was vivacious. “Well, I’d
better be on my way,” she walked towards the hotel entrance, but
stopped before a small boutique shop, the Holiday Fur Shoppe. Her
outfit was clingy with folds appearing where motion captured the
material. In one graceful, unexpected turn, her female wiles
energized, she caught his eye, waved, and then entered the Shoppe.
A young woman seated at a desk near the window raised her head.
Their conversation turned lively, then agitated.
“ How long have you been sitting
here?” Newby asked.
“ Just got here,” Newby opened the
door and got in. Trent caught a glimpse of the blonde waving. Trent
was sure it was a missed opportunity, but it made little difference
as he had more pressing matters. He started up the
engine.
“ A friend of yours?” Newby
asked.
“ No.”
“ You mean, not yet,” Newby
grinned.
“ Never saw her before and probably
won’t again.”
“ Never, say never,” Newby, added
with a chuckle as they sped away. “Have you read this morning’s
Seattle Post-Intelligencer yet?
“ Only had time for the headlines
and ball scores.”
“ Then, you haven’t read the second
section.”
Missouri to sail to Long Beach. “That’s the
lead; the article is buried here on page six.” The Navy
announced this morning a two-year, $450 million dollar
modernization program for the battleship Missouri, now moored at
the Puget Sound Naval Shipyard. The ship will be towed December 1st
to Long Beach where she will undergo installation of Tomahawk and
Harpoon missiles –
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