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### DA NANG DAMNED

### PETER A. TURNER

One HundredPercent of the profits from the sale of this book will be donated to the Carroll County, Maryland Veterans Independence Project (VIP) which is working to renovate an Army Reserve building into a homeless shelter and training facility for veterans.

Cover photograph by Pete Turner

DANANG DAMNED - Copyrighted February 16, 2017 #ATPW-WS8K-1FWD-TURI by Copyrighted.com

DEDICATION

I dedicate this book to my wife whose steadfast love and prayers brought me safely home from Vietnam and kept me sane, (more or less) through all these years, and to the terrific guys I served with from MCB 53, thanks for your friendship and support. Together we survived 'Nam' and returned home.

Special thanks to Dianne Murik, for all her hard work editing and proofreading "Da Nang Damned!"

FOREWARD

I was and am honored to have served with the U.S. Navy Seabees. As a writer, I was always told, "Write about what you know," and so I used my experience in Vietnam as background for my book. "Da Nang Damned" is of course a work of fiction. Where events really happened, or locations are real, I tried to be as accurate as possible. In addition, I have drawn on my years spent living, hiking and fishing in the White Mountain region of New Hampshire to add a sense of realism. The characters in my book are products of my imagination and in no way depict real people. If anything, Ted Troutman and Rick O'Neil are a more accurate compilation of the Seabees I served with than Antonio Marchesi and Jimmy Francis.

For those unfamiliar with the Seabees, here is a short history lesson. The Seabees or as they are formally known "United States Navy Construction Battalions" were created October 31, 1941. Before this, civilians were working in the Pacific under contract for the Navy. When World War II broke out the Navy realized they needed a construction force that could go anywhere and do anything. This force would also have to be able to drop their tools, pick up a rifle and fight.

Known for their "Can Do" spirit, Seabee battalions served with distinction from the Pacific to Normandy. General Douglas MacArthur said of the Seabees, "The only thing wrong with your Seabees is you don't have enough of them." Admiral King wrote: "Your ingenuity and fortitude have become legendary in naval history." In the October 1944 issue of "Flying Magazine," described the Seabees as a "Phenomena of World War II."

I hope I have done justice to my brothers in arms and to the proud tradition of the "Fighting Seabees" past and present.
PRELUDE: DEER CAMP

A rifle shot shattered the stillness of the frozen New Hampshire woods. The bullet slamming into an ancient pine tree, sent bark flying in all directions; couching behind the tree Rick O'Neil caught the bark squarely in the face.

The shock of the bark hitting him caused Rick to lose his balance and tumble down the side of the snow covered gully. Sliding and twisting he landed in a cloud of snow at the bottom. Dazed he managed to crawl behind a large rock. Taking several deep breaths, Rick gingerly touched his face and as near as he could tell the bark had not caused any real damage.

Pulling his hands away he looked at his bloody fingers exclaiming, "Feels like I got stung by a thousand angry wasps! But, I guess I'll live, at least for a few minutes longer."

Rick knew the shooter was still up there and very quickly would be at the top of the gully taking aim on his defenseless body. As if to hammer home the point, a shout reverberated through the trees.

"You were lucky that time old man, but your luck is about to run out. Either I kill you or you will freeze to death. I promise you a quick death, one shot to the head and its over, that's a lot better than slowly turning into an ice cube."

Rick could not argue the point. According to the last weather report, it was supposed to drop to twenty degrees below zero in North Conway and up here in the mountains the temperature would probably hit twenty-five or thirty below. This area of New Hampshire with its granite peaked mountains, countless ravines and deep pinewoods could be as barren as the surface of the Moon to the inexperienced hiker. Even in the summer while tourists were sipping cold beer at one of North Conway's restaurants, others were hiking through a sudden snowstorm on top of Mount Washington. Signs posted at trailheads carried a warning: "Beyond this point many have lost their lives. If you are not in good physical condition and properly equipped turn back!" Dressed as he was in a light parka, driving gloves and running shoes his chances of surviving a subzero night in the White Mountains of Northern New Hampshire was slim and none, and as his old buddy Ted Troutman would say, "And Slim just rode out of town". Thinking of Ted brought a slight smile to Rick's battered face. Not just, because the fun loving Ted was always quick with a joke, but because Rick suddenly realized that the tumble down the hill had put him closer to Ted's cabin and safety.

Unknown to the shooter Rick had a couple of things going for him that more than gave him a better chance at surviving than your average sixty-two year old. For one thing, Rick was in great shape. Years of competitive running and Iron Man contests had honed his body to a fine edge. Some of his friends felt Rick was obsessed with running and physical fitness. When pressed about his relentless training Rick always replied, "Running keeps me one step ahead of my demons." These demons had pursued Rick ever since he came back from Viet Nam and although the years had slowed them down some, Rick knew they were still there waiting to pounce on him and tear apart his carefully constructed life.

However, demons were not his biggest concern. It was the need for shelter. Because of his training, Rick knew without a doubt that he could easily run to Ted's camp with hardly breaking a sweat. Rick also knew these woods like the back of his hand. He and Ted had spent more than forty years hunting and fishing in these mountains. So right now, despite what his pursuer thought, he had a good chance of staying alive.

Realizing that he had to move or die, Rick got up and crouching low ran as fast as the dimming light and rough terrain would allow. Rick knew that following the gulley downhill would take him to an old logging road. The road would lead him to a private road and the shelter of Ted's old camp. It was four in the afternoon and already it was getting dark. Still, several shots rang out and at least a couple bullets whizzed by his head as Rick moved from the safety of the boulder.

"Okay old man, have it your way," yelled the shooter. "Personally, I hope you freeze to death."

Rick's antagonist was Gino Pizzuto, hired by Anthony (Tony) Marchesi, a wealthy Florida businessman who Rick recently had exposed as a criminal and killer. Marchesi publically proclaimed his innocence, claiming that Rick was someone he barely knew in Vietnam. Marchesi was saying that he did not understand why Rick was making these accusations, his spokesperson strongly speculated that Rick was suffering from PTSD and was trying to blackmail the wealthy Marchesi for money.

Privately Anthony Marchesi wanted Rick and Rick's best friend Ted Troutman dead and was doing everything possible to eliminate them. Now with Marchesi's hired killer chasing Rick into the woods in subzero temperatures it would be easy to make it look like Rick got lost and froze to death. If that did not work, a bullet in the head was a good second option.

After ten minutes of pushing his way through the underbrush, Rick found himself on the logging road. The Town of Jackson listed the road as an unimproved town road. This meant that the town kept ownership of the road, but did nothing to improve and /or repair it. Because of this the road was little more than a trail and anyone attempting to drive into the woods on this so called road had better be driving a four wheel drive with a winch in the front and a chain saw in the back.

However, come winter this rough and bumpy road became a super highway for snowmobilers. Running from Laconia on Lake Winnipesaukee, the snowmobile trail was really a network of old roads that went all the way to the Canadian Border. On any winter weekend, this trail was in constant use. As a result, instead of pounding through deep snow Rick was standing on hard packed snow making traveling by foot as easy as walking down a sidewalk. The hardened snow made his footprints impossible to see giving him another edge over his pursuer.

Rick O'Neil figured he was about twenty minutes from Ted's camp and taking a deep breath began moving quickly but cautiously down the trail. "Old man huh?" O'Neil panted, "I'll show him what this Old Man can do."

As his breath and pulse steadied and his training kicked in O'Neil's anger turned into a grim determination to not only survive, but to extract every bit of revenge he could on Marchesi. As he continued his jog up the road, a plan began to form in his head. "It could work," Rick thought. "Hell it has to work!" He spat aloud.

Twenty minutes later Rick entered a small clearing and there, outlined in the fading light was Ted's cabin. Now to anyone else this ramshackled, snow covered camp look as if it had been neglected for years and was about to fall down. However, to Rick O'Neil, Ted's cabin meant refuge from the cold and a chance at surviving and even going on the offensive against those committed to silencing him and the secret that had haunted Rick all these years.

Brushing the snow off the steps, Rick reached underneath the top step and felt the key hanging from the hook, right where Ted had left it on the last day of deer camp two months ago. Ted had many friends who used the cabin and rather than giving everyone a key, Ted kept one hidden under the steps. All Ted asked of anyone using the camp was to restock the wood supply, leave a good bottle of Kentucky Bourbon, preferably Wild Turkey and to put the key back where you found it. Ted figured the more people using the cabin the better his supply of whiskey.

Although the cabin looked rough on the outside, inside was another matter. The interior of the cabin was cozy and comfortable with a couch, a couple of recliners and two overstuffed chairs, all the furniture coming from friends and families who donated their old furniture whenever they remodeled.

Behind the living room was the sleeping area with two bunk beds. Forming an 'L' shape area across the front of the cabin was a well-equipped kitchen. A steel locker stood in the corner filled with enough dried pasta, rice, beans and coffee to keep four people alive for a month.

During deer season, it could get crowded with six to eight guys sharing the small cabin. However, the friends had known each other for years and although they told the same jokes and stories every year they all enjoyed each other's company. Nobody wanted to miss spending at least the first weekend at camp. That was when Ted put together his famous deer camp feast. Ted never told anyone what was on the menu, but every year he would outdo himself and leave everyone overstuffed and contented. Only a death in the family was considered an acceptable excuse to miss one of Ted's deer camp suppers. Like season tickets at a football game, the waiting list was a long one. One friend even showed up days after undergoing heart surgery rather than risk losing his place at the table.

O'Neil unlocked the door and stepped inside. Once inside he turned, reached up with his right hand and took down the flashlight hanging beside the door. Turning it on Rick walked into the living area. Grabbing hold of one end of the couch, he swung it out into the room. Lowering the couch, he lifted the small rug that was under it revealing a trapdoor. Lifting the door exposed a metal box with a combination lock. Rick knew the combination by heart and quickly unlocked the padlock and opened the box. Inside was Ted's old service Colt 1911 with two magazines of nine rounds each.

At Ted's suggestion, Rick had put the 9mm pistol Ted had issued him as a deputy sheriff in his glove compartment. However, in his haste to get away from Marchesi, Rick had forgotten the pistol. He picked up the Colt and feeling its heft gave Rick a comforting familiar feeling.

Next to the 45 was Rick's Ka Bar and a set of keys. Rick picked up the Colt, inserted a magazine, pulled the slide back and chambered a round. He slipped the other magazine into his pocket and tucked the big knife under his belt; Rick then closed the box and replaced the rug and couch.

Walking into the bunkroom Rick quickly located his metal locker between the two bunk beds. Rick and Ted had rescued the lockers from the back of the high school two years ago when the school switched from full-length lockers to small lockers about the size of a breadbox. At the time Ted complained to the school board that it was a waste of tax payers money to replace perfectly good lockers with crappy little tin boxes that wouldn't hold a ball cap and a couple of books, forcing the students to wear their coats and carry all their books . The school board responded that they needed the extra room for a resource center and told Ted to stick to being the Sheriff and let them run the school. Instead, Ted bought the entire lot of lockers, partly to spite the school board and partly to help his favorite organization.

"Well at least we're giving these old lockers a new life," said Ted as he, Rick and a few friends loaded all six hundred lockers onto a flatbed truck and hauled them to the back lot next to the police station where the following Saturday, Ted had auctioned them off and donated the proceeds to the town's youth program. At the time, Rick and several of Ted's associates had suggested that maybe Ted was planning to run for mayor, to which Ted had replied, "Nah, it's more fun being a pain in the board's backside."

Ted did not worry about re-election; he was very popular with the locals, keeping a lid on the partying that was always going on in a town like North Conway. The Conway region with its many ski areas, mountains, lakes, and rivers attracted thousands of tourists every year. Many of the people who came to the White Mountains were families, but it was also a magnet for singles looking for a good time. Except for a couple of months a year, the bars and clubs in and around Conway were always hopping with fun-loving young people. Ted had a reputation as a good cop and solving a high profile killing a few years ago and recently spearheading a major drug bust only added to his reputation.

Opening one of the lockers Rick reached inside and pulled out his old Savage 12 gauge pump shotgun. From the top shelf, he removed a box of 12 gauge shells, which contain a mix of Double 0 Buckshot and Deer Slugs. The Double 0 Buckshot could blast through the heavy underbrush and the 8 oz. slug would stop a deer in its tracks. The other guys used rifles with scopes and kidded Rick on his choice of a weapon, but Rick didn't care the shotgun was passed down to him by his Dad, plus it did double duty as a great bird and rabbit gun as well as a deer gun. After a couple of hunting seasons where Rick easily out produced his critics, the jokes ended and a couple of guys even switched over to shotguns.

Rick knew that at close range his shotgun and Colt would give him the firepower he needed. He quickly loaded the shotgun alternating buckshot and then a slug. Next Rick opened the other locker and pulled out his sleeping bag and black wool watch cap. Putting on the hat, he tucked the shotgun under his arm and carried the sleeping bag over to one of the recliners. Dropping the bag in the recliner, he slid the heavy chair across the room putting it at an angle to the door. Next O'Neil opened a large storage chest and took out two pillows and an old olive drab wool army blanket. He placed the pillows in the other recliner and wrapped the blanket around them. Rick hoped it looked like a body was sleeping in the chair. Rick then moved the chair so that it was in a direct line with the door. With any luck, Pizzuto would kick open the door, see the chair and assume it was Rick, giving Rick time to take him out.

Grabbing some empty beer cans from a wastebasket Rick built a small pyramid against the door. When Pizzuto opened the door, he would set off the "beer can alarm" waking Rick and giving him a few precious seconds more to react.

Bone weary from both the physical and mental strain of the last few hours, Rick opened up the sleeping bag, stepped inside and sat down in the recliner. He pulled the bag up to his shoulders and positioned the hat over his ears. Rick thought about starting a fire, but knew the smell of smoke would give him away and Rick saw no sense in giving his would-be killer any advantage.

"Rather a little uncomfortable and alive than a warm corps," he thought. Slipping the 45 into his waistband, he laid the shotgun across his knees. "Guess that's all I can do for now," Rick said aloud. "I hope it's enough. Now to get some sleep." Even though the temperature in the cabin continued to drop, the thick down filled sleeping bag kept him warm enough. After a few minutes the events of the day caught up to Rick and he began nodding off to sleep.

As O'Neil drifted off his last thoughts were of long ago and four young men struggling to stay alive in a war none of them understood.

Chapter One

Saving The World For Democracy

Like some ugly, gray toad, the Air Force C141 Star Lifter squatted on the frozen runway. It is dawn, January 5, 1972 and as the sun begins to break over the airfield; a long line of cold and nervous Seabees of U.S. Navy Mobile Construction Battalion 43 (MCB 43) heaved their heavy seabags onto their shoulders and start shuffling into the belly of the big cargo jet. The Seabees had waited in the predawn cold for more than an hour to board the plane and start the 26-hour flight that would take them to Vietnam.

Rick O'Neil slowly followed his fellow "Bees" into the plane. "Come on keep it moving, find a seat and strap yourself in. The sooner we get everyone aboard, the sooner we can take off." Chief Watson standing at the plane's door was doing his best to get the men into their seats as quickly as possible.

Maybe it was the fact that it was only 0600 and cold, or the reality of where they were going and knowing some of them might not return that kept the Seabees quiet instead of the usual griping.

Anthony Marchesi plopped down into his seat next to Rick. "Hey, O'Neil you think this bucket of bolts will get off the ground and fly us all the way to 'Nam'? I heard MCB 12 had to switch planes twice because of mechanical problems. If we plowed into some snow covered mountain or splash down in the Pacific, they'd never find our sorry butts."

"Yeah," agreed Rick. "It would be rotten luck to crash and burn before we even got a chance to fight."

"Oh give me a break O'Neil! Stop with the patriotic crap. I never signed up for this. I should be cruising the Med on some tin can, not stuck here with you clowns!"

Rick looked over at Marchesi; Tony was a good eight inches shorter than Rick's six foot three and at least 30 pounds lighter. What he lacked in size, he made up for in a combination of Italian bravado and Bronx tough guy image. Dark hair with an angular face, he met the stereotypical image of a kid who grew up on the streets and who learns at an early age that the only way to survive in this world was to be smarter, tougher and faster with his fist than the next guy.

Tony had been in trouble since the age of six, and by the time he was twelve, he had a reputation as a troublemaker. Soon the police and social services began taking notice. Whether it was throwing a punch at a classmate, biting his first-grade teacher or stealing candy from the local convenience store, Tony was always creating problems for his long-suffering mother.

Tony's father Alphonso took just the opposite view of his son's behavior. To his Dad, a small-time hood and gambler, Tony's tough guy attitude was just what he needed to survive. Alphonso spent his days sleeping and his night's gambling and running various errands for the local Mafioso. Tony's Dad named him after boss, one Antonio Alessio, thinking it would gain him favor with the gangster.

The only interaction he had with Tony was to cuff him off the side of the head and tell him to smarten up. Now to Alphonso when he said, "to smarten up," he did not mean don't do it again, he meant don't get caught. In rare moments of fatherly love, his dad would sit Tony down at the kitchen table and teach him the basics of stud poker or craps. However, most of the time Al, as he was known to his "business associates" was down at Lugis' Bar and Grill looking for a little action or waiting for his orders from Alessio.

Alphonso admired his son's nerve and growing skills with his fists, bragging to anybody who would listen that someday his son would run this neighborhood. When Maria Marchesi complained to her husband about the latest trouble Tony had gotten himself into, Alphonso would tell her to shut up, yelling that if Tony was going to make something out of himself, he had to be tough.

Tony worshiped his dad. To him, the occasional slap was his dad's way of teaching him to be a man. In Tony's eyes, his Dad seemed to have it made. He didn't work, well at least not regular hours at some crummy factory or corner store like most of the fathers in the neighborhood. Instead of worn work clothes or an apron, Alphonso and his associates always looked sharp, dressing in tailored suits and freshly shined shoes.

Everyone gave Alphonso a wide berth when he walked down the street. Even if sometimes he came home with a little blood on his shirt or had to pawn the TV when his gambling took a turn for the worse, Tony knew that soon his dad would be back in the money and all would be well. Best of all was when his dad hit a lucky streak, then he would buy Maria a lovely dress and take her dancing, and he and Tony would watch the Yankees. A couple of times they even rented a cottage on the Jersey Shore for the summer. Of course, Alphonso stayed in the city taking care of his various business ventures while Tony and Maria enjoyed the sand and surf. Maria for her part played the wife of a gangster keeping her mouth shut both out of fear and because she secretly enjoyed the status it gave her in the neighborhood.

Their marriage wasn't like the marriages Tony watched on television, but somehow the family, mostly because of Maria, stayed together and with Alphonso's or even Antonio Alessio's intervention Tony always seemed to escape any serious punishment from the authorities. It wasn't until Tony, now eighteen was caught robbing a liquor store with two other punks that things started going downhill for him.

Unfortunately, the liquor store was owned by another Mafioso, and neither Alphonso nor his boss could do much to bail Tony out of this one. Alphonso told a crying Maria that maybe a little jail time would smarten Tony up. In addition, after he got out Alessio had promised Marchesi that he would find a place for Tony in his organization. This did little to comfort Maria, who always hoped Tony would get out of the Bronx and live a respectable life. Fortunately, for Tony, the judge was a poker- playing friend of Alessio's and owed the crime boss a couple of grand. Therefore, instead of three to five years in the state pen, the judge gave Tony the opportunity to join the service and fight for his country.

"My son's going be a war hero!" Alphonso bragged. Poor Maria didn't know whether to be happy her son wasn't going to prison or worried that he would get himself killed in some jungle firefight. By 1970, the war had reached its peak and between the weekly body count, battle scenes on the nightly news and "peace" demonstrations, the war was on everyone's minds.

To Alphonso being in combat and all the training his son would receive was even better than going to jail. Tony had other ideas. As he told his buddies: "I'm no fool, the judge gave me ninety days to join the service, but he didn't say which one and I'll be damned if I'm going to enlist in the Marines or Army and get wounded or killed defending a bunch of rice eating gooks. It's the Navy for me! See the world and a girl in every port." A guy two years older than Tony had joined the Navy eighteen months ago and just came back from a cruise of the Mediterranean telling everyone what a great time he had chasing skirts in Spain and Italy.

Unfortunately, for Tony, the Navy had other plans. Instead of a 'Med' cruise, Tony was assigned to a Seabee Battalion. Officially known as United States Navy Construction Battalions, Seabees organized during the early days of World War II as the Navy realized it needed experienced construction men to build airfields, docks and living quarters on the Pacific Islands.

These men recruited from stateside construction companies were given combat training and quickly sent to the front lines. What they lacked in military experience they made up in sheer determination, know- how and a "Can Do" attitude quickly earning them the respect of the Marines, regular Navy and anyone that they came in contact with the "Fighting Seabees." Laboring under the hot, humid tropical sun and monsoon rains and always ready to grab their rifles and fight alongside the Marines; the Seabees always lived up to their motto "We Build and We Fight." When the Vietnam War started, the Seabees once again were called on to perform the same jobs they became famous for in World War II.

Anthony Marchesi was not overly impressed with being a member of such a storied outfit and made his displeasure known to anyone who would listen. It did not take long for him to run afoul of his company commander, a hard-bitten veteran of World War II, Korea and now Vietnam. Warrant Officer Kline had moved up the ranks from a raw recruit to an officer commanding his first company. Kline was not about to let this jerk off ruin his spotless record. He had Marchesi transferred to a barracks cleaning crew hoping Marchesi would get the message to shape up or else. That is how Anthony Marchesi ended up assigned to Rick O'Neil's cleaning crew.

O'Neil and Marchesi were part of Mobile Construction Battalion 43 stationed at Davisville, Rhode Island. MCB 43 had been recommissioned six months ago and was in the process of getting itself up to the battalion strength of approximately eight hundred men. Expecting to be deployed in three to four months, the men were undergoing extensive combat training and sharpening their construction skills on various building projects around the massive Seabee base.

Petty Officer O'Neil's cleaning crew was responsible for sweeping, washing and waxing the barracks floors every morning as well as cleaning the heads (bathrooms and showers) and policing the outside of the barracks. It was not the best of duties especially after a weekend of liberty. The only benefit was that after the barracks were clean and inspected by the Officer of the Day, the men had the rest of the day off, usually spending the free time at the gee dunk (base cafeteria) or the gym. Still the men could not wait for their ninety-day assignment to expire so they could go back to their construction crews.

Despite the disagreeable nature of the work, O'Neil's men quickly bonded taking pride in a job well done. The addition of a slacker and bellyacher like Marchesi threatened to upset this well-oiled crew. Therefore, it was only a matter of time before Marchesi rubbed one of the men the wrong way.

Constructionman Ted Troutman was a fun-loving, hard working Seabee who took whatever job the Navy gave him seriously and always performed to the best of his ability. Standing five foot ten, he had the build of a defensive tackle. Ted was always willing to help anyone and frequently did more than his share without complaining. However, it only took two days before Marchesi got on Ted's bad side.

On his first day, Marchesi managed to fall asleep in the shower room. Troutman figuring that Tony was tired from arriving in camp late the night before cut him some slack. After waking him up and giving a warning about goofing off, Ted went about his work.

By the second day, Tony had singled out the weakest member of the crew, Jimmy Francis. Francis did not fit the image of your typical Seabee. Instead of a big, tough, muscular young man, Jimmy was short, slight of build and at eighteen already had thinning hair. His small stature and receding hairline along with his hangdog look made him the butt of many practical jokes. Because of this, Rick O'Neil and Ted Troutman watched over Jimmy like two big brothers giving Jimmy some protection from the bullies in the outfit. Tony had quickly identified Jimmy as someone he could get to do his bidding, which in this case meant doing Tony's work as well as his own.

A couple of days later Ted found Tony lying in his rack while Jimmy swept the deck. Ted began shouting at Tony to get his butt out of his rack, grab a broom and get to work. When Tony refused to get up, Ted picked up one side of the metal bunk and dumped Tony on the deck. Before Tony could get untangled from his blanket, Ted had left the room in search of Rick, who was on the second floor waxing the deck. By the time Ted got his attention and Rick made his way downstairs, Marchesi had left the barracks. When Rick questioned Jimmy about Tony's whereabouts, the nervous Francis replied that Tony had said he was tired of swabbing the deck and took off to the Gee Dunk.

Now Rick considered himself a fair and easygoing crew chief. He did not ask his men to do anything he would not do himself. Neither did he like confrontations. Hoping the guys would do their jobs because they liked him and because as soon as they had passed daily inspection, they had the rest of the day to themselves. Rick also understood that if he did not come down hard on Marchesi and show him who the boss was he would lose the rest of the crews' respect and undermine his authority. Rick stormed out of the barracks determined to deal with Tony in the only manner Marchesi would understand. Rick marched into the cafeteria and spotted Tony at a table with a couple of other known troublemakers. Rick walked up behind Tony, grabbed him by the collar and dragged him out the door with Tony cursing all the way and his buddies hooting and laughing.

Once outside Rick spun him around, pushing Tony against the brick wall of the building and putting his face two inches from Tony's told him to get his skinny butt back to the barracks and get to work. When Tony protested and tried to sucker punch Rick, O'Neil grabbed Marchesi's arm and twisted it behind his back.

"You're a real tough guy Marchesi picking on Jimmy and goofing off, but mess with me, and I'll put you in the hospital. Now I'm only going to say this one more time, then I going to write you up and let Chief Mackey deal with you."

Chief Mackey was a tough old bird who was responsible for the barracks. He had a reputation, justly earned as a real hard ass and someone you didn't want to cross. "Now do you want to go back and finish cleaning or would you like me to escort you to see the Chief?"

"Ok, Ok O'Neil I will go back to the barracks, just let go of my arm," grunted Tony.

After that incident, Marchesi did not cause too much trouble. He would still goof off now and then, but Tony realized that O'Neil was not someone to cross and besides having the rest of the day off after cleaning the barracks meant that he could get an early jump on the floating card or crap games that were always part of base life.

Eventually, Rick O'Neil, Tony Marchesi, Jimmy Francis and Ted Troutman would form an uneasy alliance, partly because they both were Construction Electricians, but also because as the battalion began to reach full strength, the men found themselves on the same fire squad with Rick as Fire Team Leader. To quote Ted: "Like it or not we're all in this together so we might as well make the best of it."

Ted and Rick had met in boot camp and formed an instant friendship. Rick was tall, athletic and handsome. Ted was shorter and beefier and with a face made for comedy compared to Rick's leading man visage. Rick and Ted had a lot in common. Both were from New England, Ted from Northern New Hampshire and Rick from Western Massachusetts. Both played football in high school. Rick as a tight end and Ted as a defensive guard known for his crushing strength developed from years of helping his dad on the dairy farm. Rick's strength came from lifting weights and boxing at the local YMCA.

They differed in that; Ted was forever cracking jokes, whereas Rick was quieter and more serious. After boot camp, the Navy promoted Rick to Petty Officer 3rd Class. Ted was still just a Constructionman, the Seabees equivalent of the Navy's Seaman Rank. Ted didn't resent Rick's promotion. Soon Rick and Ted had formed a strong friendship.

Rick's promotion was part of a long tradition in the Seabees where someone with experience in the building trades could jump a few pay grades. It was the Seabee way of attracting experienced men. These men armed with real world construction skills, could quickly take charge of a working party. Of course, these "Instant Petty Officers" as the regular Navy men called them weren't very militaristic. They hadn't spent years in the Navy earning their rank. This only enhanced the Seabees' reputation as a hard working organization, who when necessary (which was most of the time,) would thumb their noses at military regulations and just get the job done.

Rick sitting three rows in front of Ted tried turning around and saying something to his friend, but all hopes of talking faded as the jet's four massive Pratt and Whitney engines started to wind up. All he could manage was a thumb up which Ted with a big grin quickly returned.

"The clown," thought Rick. "He thinks this is all just one big adventure."

"Well this is it, O'Neil," Rick said to himself as he settled into his seat. "Hopefully this won't be a one-way ticket." As the Air Force Star Lifter left the runway and headed for a refueling stop in Alaska, Rick said a silent prayer, praying that he and his fellow Seabees would somehow survive and return home in one piece.
Chapter Two

Welcome to Hell Suckers!

Once airborne, it would take the C-147 about twenty-six hours to reach Da Nang. The big transport would make two stops along the way. The first would be at the Elmendorf Air Force Base near Anchorage, Alaska for refueling and then a long flight across the Pacific and another refueling stop in Japan.

At each stop, the men would get a chance to get out, stretch their legs, and have a hot meal before returning to the plane for the next leg of their journey. For now, all the Seabees of Construction Battalion 43 could do was sit and wait while the big jet engines droned on, each man deep in thought already missing families, wives and girlfriends.

For most of the young men, this was their first airplane ride. In 1971 jet travel was still something special, reserved for the "jetsetters" or business travelers. Unlike current jet travel, there was very little security; each passenger treated like a welcomed guest and not with suspicion. Instead of being jammed like cattle into cramped seats and served plastic food, air travel in the Sixties and early Seventies was intended to be an exciting and pleasurable experience.

Although the Air Force jet was not as nice as a commercial airplane, and instead of stewardesses there were Air Force men in grey jumpsuits, at least the men had comfortable seats and decent food. Overall, it could have been a training flight. It was only when you looked at the pallets-loaded supplies did you realize this was more than just another training drill.

The next twenty-six hours went by in a blur of jet engines, take offs and landings. After a while, it seemed as if the men had been in the air forever. The big transport traveled through fourteen time zones and across the International Date Line. The men had long since run out of things to talk about and spent most of the time sleeping, writing letters or just staring out the window at the endless snow-covered mountains of Canada and Alaska or the huge expanse of the Pacific Ocean.

Most of them had slipped into a kind of semi-consciousness when a voice boomed over the loudspeakers. It was the voice of Lt. Gordon the officer in charge of the men during this flight. "Men we're about thirty minutes from landing at the Da Nang Airport. The pilot has advised me that he will be coming in fast and steep because of reported small arms fire in the area. This means that from now until the pilot gives the all clear, you will stay in your seats. Make sure you are in the full upright position, seatbelts are on and all gear stowed under your seat. This is liable to be a rocky flight and a rough landing so make sure you stay in your seats."

A few minutes later the Seabees heard the engines' RPM's change and felt the big transport shutter as it began its descent into Da Nang. Suddenly the plane lurched as it hit an air pocket. A few of the 'Bees' let out a startled yell, and a few laughed nervously, but most just tightened their grip on the armrest and prayed they would land safely.

"Didn't MCB 16 take a few rounds when one of their planes was landing?" asked Marchesi.

"Yeah that's what I heard," said Rick. "Fortunately the only damage was to a pallet of cots, and a few guys had to change their shorts."

"Well, I can't wait to get on the ground so I can get a chance at shooting a few of those little gooks," Tony said through clenched teeth.

The C-147 banked sharply to the left and some of the men let out another shout as the big jet shuddered and the pallets in the cargo bay groaned under the strain. "I think he's circling the field" said Rick looking out the nearest window and seeing the ground below as the plane came out of the clouds with its left wing pointed down. The pilot then leveled the C147 off before putting it into a steep climb back under cloud cover.

The Air Force pilot executed another quick descent and turned to the right before coming on the loudspeakers announcing that he was going in for a landing. "Ok, boys here we go. Tighten your seatbelts cause we're going in hard and fast. The airport was rocketed this morning about 0400 and there's still some activity in the area."

There was not much chatter as each man gripped his armrest and silently prayed for a safe landing. For the next few seconds, Rick watching out the window only saw wisps of clouds flash by until the jet broke through the clouds and the interior of the plane was lit up from the sun streaming in. To Rick, it seemed as if the ground was rushing up at an alarming rate. He could hear and feel the four huge jet engines as the pilot began slowing the aircraft for its landing.

Even though he was looking out the window, Rick was still surprised when the C147 hit the runway and the engines went into a reverse mode. Rick could feel his body press uncomfortably against the seat belt as the sudden deceleration forced his body forward. Despite the steep ascent and the initial impact, the landing was smooth, and although it seemed much longer, it was only a few minutes before the Lockheed Star Lifter came to a halt in front of some hangers.

"Alright, men listen up." It was the voice of Chief Watson coming from somewhere up front. "We're going to disembark by rows. Once you're on the ground, form up by squads. Our transportation is on the way so we shouldn't be here too long. Oh by the way the current temperature is a balmy 87 degrees, humidity is around 95 percent, winds are calm, and there's a chance of rain."

"Whoa," exclaimed Ted, "That's like 70 degrees hotter than when we left Davisville. Up in North Conway that would be hot even in July"

"Welcome to paradise you moron," said Tony, "What were you expecting snow?"

"You know Marchesi when I want a comment from you I'll shake your cage" said Ted, "Until then shut up!" Before Tony could respond, Chief Watson was telling everyone to pipe down and get moving.

Even though the Bees were in top physical condition and knew Nam would be hot and humid, nothing could have prepared them for the shock of stepping into the glaring tropical sun. There had been a sudden downpour about an hour ago, but now most of the clouds had blown away. The sun beating down was turning the wet runway into a steam bath.

"Damn", said Jimmy, "It's like a sauna out here. How do they expect us to work in this heat?"

"We'll get use to it." Rick said.

"Not me," boasted Tony, "I got Chief Watson to assign me to the office shuffling papers and making coffee."

"Why you little brown nose," Ted fired back. "It's just like you to find a way to avoid any real work."

"Say what you want, bonehead," Tony laughed. "But why should I bust my butt when the war is winding down? Why should I get shot? If the politicians let the generals fight this war, it would have been over years ago. We're in a losing situation. Look at all the protests and those lousy peaceniks rioting in the streets. They think they're marching for peace when all they are doing is giving aid and comfort to the enemy and putting our lives in danger. Well screw 'em all," hissed Tony.

"Look guys," commented Rick, "Like it or not we're here for at least nine months. The best we can do is cover each other's backs and try to get out of this war alive."

"For once I agree with you O'Neil," grunted Tony, "One for all and all for one."

"Yeah whatever," snarled Ted, not at all pleased with the aspect of depending on Marchesi for his safety.

"Look," shouted Jimmy, "Here comes our ride. "

Rolling onto the tarmac was a jeep and three semis hauling "cattle cars". Leading the convoy was Senior Chief Cummings, the senior enlisted man in the battalion. The jeep came to a sudden stop in front of the men, and Senior Master Chief Cummings climbed out bedecked in a helmet, flak jacket and two Colt 45's strapped to his sizeable waist.

"Ha, he looks like a fat John Wayne," Ted chuckled.

"Shut up Troutman," whispered Rick, "The last thing we need is to get on Cummings radar". The Chief had been a Marine in World War Two and enrolled in the Seabees when the war was over only to be shipped off to Korea. Now in his third war both enlisted men and young officers respected and feared him. Whether it was a lowly Constructionman or a Lieutenant Junior Grade, Cummings had no problem chewing you out if he thought you were screwing up.

Cummings was part of a detachment of fifty experienced officers and enlisted men sent over to Vietnam thirty days earlier to help with the transition from one battalion to another. Construction Battalion Forty-Three was relieving Battalion Eleven. Battalion Eleven had several high priority building projects that Forty-Three was expected to complete ASAP. The detachment was also responsible for camp security and working with the local company of Marines to ensure the battalion's safety.

Cummings glared at the men, saluted Lt. Commander Jackson and said, "Welcome to Da Nang Sir. Your ride awaits."

"Very well Senior Chief, let's get the men aboard and off the runway."

"Aye, aye sir," responded Cummings, then turning back to the men he barked out. "Platoon leaders have your men grab their gear and file into the trailers. There are five-gallon water jugs in each trailer, your men can use their canteen cups and get a drink."

Cummings continued, "A couple of rules you men will observe. One: No yelling out the windows and no hand gestures, I don't care if it's just a friendly wave; any man found violating these orders will find themselves in front of the Captain. We'll be going through some crowded areas, and small villages and not everyone is happy to see us."

"So that winning the hearts and minds thing ain't working out so well," said Ted as he walked past Cummings.

"One more wisecrack Troutman and you'll be on the Honey Bucket Patrol for a month!" Cummings barked.

"Sorry Senior Chief, it won't happen again," Ted said.

Ted winked at Rick, who just shook his head in amusement at Ted's attempt to lighten things up. Ted's wacky sense of humor and practical jokes were well known among the members of B Company, and more than once had gotten Ted in trouble, which usually resulted in some extra duty. Everyone including the company commander liked Ted both for his good nature sense of humor and for his work ethic.

"What's the Honey Bucket Patrol anyways? " Ted asked

"Oh, it's right up your alley," laughed Tony. "The Honey Bucket Patrol is the guys assigned to clean out the latrines."

"How do you know so much about it?" Ted smirked. "Have you signed up for it?"

"No," said Tony. "But one of the guys from MCB 9 was on it for three months for being drunk on duty." "The only good thing is it only takes a couple of hours a day to empty the barrels and then you have the rest of the day off unless there are some other crap jobs to do around camp."

"Yeah well, I guess I rather be out working with the crew all day than spend an hour cleaning latrines. Besides Tony with your mouth and attitude you'll probably be assigned to the "Patrol" for the duration."

"Not me Moron, I'll get my buddy Jimmy to take my place, right Jimbo?"

Jimmy Francis who had been quietly walking to the cattle cars with the other three, looked up at the sound of his name and meekly said, "Sure Tony anything you say."

"You know Marchesi, one day I'm going to shove that big mouth of yours so far down your throat you'll be looking at the ground between your feet," warned Ted.

"Yeah anytime Troutman," snarled Tony.

The men filed into the cattle cars, stuffed their sea bags under the wooden benches and sat down. The heat inside the trailers was several degrees hotter than the outside temperatures, soon the men packed inside raised the temperature even more.

"Where's that water?" shouted Rick.

"Over here,"' said Petty Officer First Class Upshaw. "Pass your canteen cups to me, and I'll fill them up." The men quickly passed their cups up front, and the men enjoyed their first cold drink after baking in the hot sun.

Ted took a swallow, closed his eyes and said, "Well it's not a cold Bud, but it's almost as good."

Rick drank from his cup as he and tried to get comfortable on the hard wooden seats as the cattle car began its trip to their base camp. The semi hauling the trailer picked up speed as a dusty, hot and humid breeze flowed through the interior of the cattle car.

Soon everyone was complaining about the dust and heat as they moved through the crowded streets of Da Nang. The air was heavy with the sharp, pungent smell of humans, sweat, garbage, and sewage.

"Man oh man this place smells like a pig pen," said Jimmy.

Tony, wrinkling his nose in contempt said, "Hell, Francis don't insult the pigs. This is more like an overflowing septic tank."

Suddenly there was a thump against the side of the trailer followed by another and another. Tony looked out the screened window and yelled, "A bunch of kids are throwing rocks at us!"

"Marchesi" shouted First Class Upshaw, "Remember what the Chief said, no shouting out the window."

"Yeah I heard," grunted Tony. By now, several men were looking out the window.

"Hey Upshaw, those kids are giving us the finger," roared an angry Seabee.

Upshaw stood and looked out the window, then turned to the men and said, "Look you've got to ignore these little buggers. We can't be starting any riots. Now sit down, and shut up."

The men quieted down but a low mummer of discontent and swearing filled the cattle car. "Don't they know we're the good guys?" questioned Ted.

"Maybe they're upset with us because they know we're going to be pulling out and they'll have to defend themselves," suggested Rick.

Tony shifted uncomfortably in his seat, "Maybe if they had defended themselves from the beginning we wouldn't be in this cesspool of a country."

"Yeah," said Rick, "That might be true, but we're here now so let's make the most of it and try to get out of here alive."

"Well you can bet I'm going to make the most of the situation, but not in the way you're thinking Rick," laughed Tony. "Where there's a war, there's an opportunity to make money and I intend to find it."

"You'd be better off trying to keep that big nose of yours out of trouble." Rick's words were just barely audible as the semi hauling the troops began picking up speed.

After sixty minutes of dust, heat, and bone-jarring bumps the men finally arrived at the turnoff into Camp McKeon. The camp would serve as their base of operations for the next nine months.

As the Seabees went through the gate, one of the "Bees" looking out the window shouted, "Hey its O'Brien guarding the gate." The men cluster around the windows yelling at O'Brien.

"Welcome to Hell you sorry bastards," shouted O'Brien as the trucks rumbled through the gate.

The convoy finally came to a halt in front of the heavy equipment parking area, which also served as an assembly area and the only place in the little camp where the semi could turn around. The men dusty, sweaty and exhausted from traveling stepped out of the cattle car.

"Okay men, line up by platoons. We'll be unloading your gear and assigning your sleeping quarters. The faster we can do this the faster you will be able to find your hooch, stow your gear, take a shower and get something to eat."

The men looked up to see Warrant Officer Cohen standing in front of them in his starched greens and looking like he just stepped out of an air-conditioned room, which in fact he had. Warrant Officer Cohen was a "Mustang", an enlisted man who worked his way up through the ranks, and was now an officer and a gentleman. Tough but fair the men respected Cohen because of his enlisted experience.

The men were assigned their berthing quarters by fire team with two teams to a "hooch". These hoochs were large tent-shaped structures constructed on a plywood platform and framed with two by fours. The wire screens attached to the sides allowed air to flow through the hut. The sides also had plywood sheets on hinges. Lowering the sheets of plywood kept out the rain. A corrugated metal roof topped the hooch. Inside the living quarters consisted of ten single racks or beds, five to a side. Metal lockers separated the bunks. Most of the bunks had fans providing some relief from the hot, humid weather.

During their tour of duty, each Seabee would customize their small living quarters with pictures of wives, girlfriends, pinups, cars and sports figures.

Outside the hut was a mortar pit, a large hole in the ground usually lined with plywood. Sandbags were stacked around the outside of the pit and piled on top of the plywood roof. Inside the pit, the men added wooden benches, a single light bulb and a cooler to house their beer. These mortar pits served two purposes, an official one and an unofficial purpose. Officially, these pits were a shelter against enemy rocket and mortar attacks. Unofficially they served as a place where the men could gather for a card game. In some cases, theses pits also became a place to get drunk. Down in the pit you could sleep it off and you were safe if the VC started lobbing mortars. Connecting the mortar pit to the hooch was a sidewalk made out of rough-cut lumber, which kept your feet dry during the Monsoon season.

Located in the center of the camp were the mess hall, the EM Club, and a basketball court. Off to the right of the mess hall was the Seabees built an open-air theater. Wooden benches formed a semi-circle in front of a small stage with a wooden wall painted white, which served as a movie screen. The men could get a beer from the club, sit on the benches and watch a movie or an occasional live show Right now four men were painting over a warm welcome from the battalion MCB 43 was replacing. Someone from MCB 11 had painted in black "Screw it! Leave it for 43".

On the road leading to the main gate was the battalion's command center and across from the command center was officers' country. Located throughout the camp were the outhouses. Each crapper had at least four holes. You sat down did your business, into fifty-five gallon drums. Each day the "Honey Bucket Patrol" would come and remove the barrels, dumping them into a larger barrel near the outhouses. Kerosene was poured into the barrel and set on fire. The resulting smoke and smell permeated the entire camp, prompting men to dump a couple of sandbags down the barrels smothering the fire and the stink. One of Rick's most vivid memories of "Nam" is the stench of burning human waste.

The camp formed a rough oval. As you entered the main gate, the right half was set aside for the living quarters. Each company had its own section composed of ten or more hooches. The left half of the oval contained all the supplies, construction equipment, and maintenance shops the Seabees would need to complete their work projects. Along the perimeter of the camp was a series of defensive bunkers that the men would man if attacked. At regular intervals, twenty foot watchtowers armed with M60 machine guns kept constant watch over the surrounding countryside. At night armed patrols walked between the towers. Rolls of Concertina wire and barbed wire surrounded the camp with claymore mines placed between the inner and outer rolls of wire.

The front of the camp faced Route One the major highway running north and south along the coast of Viet Nam. Across the main gate was a larger facility, Marine Amphibious Group 16, a favorite target of VC rockets. To the right was a mobile field hospital and about two miles in the distance was Marble Mountain a roughhewn mountain where the big 155mm Howitzers were positioned. To the left was a ramshackle refugee village with small huts made of castoff material from flattens beer cans to scraps of wood and tarpaper. The village was a constant source of problems with Viet Cong using it as a place to hide during the day and to lob mortars into the nearby camps at night.

Most of the villagers did not want any part of the fighting, but the Viet Cong used threats, torture, and murder to keep the people quiet and terrified.

The back of the camp looked out over rice paddies and the Han River. The ground surrounding the camp was mostly sand and low bushes, larger vegetation were removed opening up the area and preventing anyone from getting close to the camp. When the wind blew, the sand swirled through the camp covering everything with a gritty dust.

As Rick and the rest of his crew walked to their sleeping quarters, Rick thought the Seabee camp looked more like Fort Apache in a western movie than a base of operations in a war zone. Between the hoochs and wooden walkways and men walking around with guns in their arms or strapped to their sides, he half expected to see John Wayne or Gary Cooper sauntering down the street. Of course, unlike a movie, there was no director to call cut or a stuntman double to take the fall. This camp and this war was as real as it gets and the thought that they were going to be spending nine months here sent a chill up Rick's spine.

The men entered their hooch and began jockeying for the choice spots. Each wanted a bunk next to the door, so they could be the first out the door and into the mortar pit in case of an attack. Rick could have pulled rank and take his pick of the best sleeping area, but he settled the question of who was going to sleep flipping a coin. The men carried their sea bag to their cots and began stowing away their gear.

After putting their gear in their lockers, the squad next went to the armory for their weapons. Each man was given an M-16 with six magazines. The Seabees filled out a form noting the rifle's serial number and then signed the form and turned it into the officer in charge. Rick as squad leader received enough ammo so each man could load his magazines. Next, it was down to the mess hall where the men ate lunch. After lunch, they reassembled in front of the company's office and were assigned guard duty. Each squad took their defensive position along the perimeter. When attacked, sirens would sound; the Seabees would drop whatever they were doing and rush to the nearest mortar pit. Then once the immediate mortar attack ended, they would take up their positions along the perimeter and wait for another attack or the all clear signal.

Just before falling out, Warrant Officer Cohen ordered the men to stand at ease. "I just got word from the command post that there's a large contingent of North Vietnamese regulars and Viet Cong in the area. It's their New Years or TET. Intelligence expects some activity over the next few days, so we are on high alert. If you're on guard duty stay sharp and report any suspicious activity immediately. If we are attacked take cover and wait for your orders. This is the real thing men, so stay alert at all times. Now if you don't have the duty get back to your huts and get your gear squared away."

"Man I'm glad we didn't get the duty tonight," said Jimmy. "I'm beat".

"Yeah," said Rick, "Between the jet lag and this heat I think the best thing to do is exactly what Mr. Cohen said. We have about two hours before supper, enough time for a nap."

The men walked along in silence, entered the hooch and began stowing their gear. Next, they loaded their magazines, cleaned their M16's and after taking a short nap made their way to the mess hall.

Each man picked up a metal tray, divided into separate compartments and made their way down the chow line. Not knowing what to expect the men were pleasantly surprised to find sliced roast beef with gravy, real mashed potatoes, green beans with chunks of ham, fresh baked cornbread, and loafs of wheat bread. After filling their trays, they placed them on an empty picnic table and went to fill their canteen cups. The drink area was located in the center of the mess hall, and the men could get their fill of coffee, regular and chocolate milk or a Kool-Aid like drink the men called "bug juice".

"I thought we'd be eating C-Rats," said Ted, referring to the infamous olive drab cans of C-Rations that the military supplied to all branches of the service. "This food is pretty good."

"Don't worry, said Tony we'll get plenty of C-Rats once we're out in the field. Besides with all the long hours we'll be spending working, I'm sure we'll burn off the calories."

Ted looked at Tony for a long moment and said, "What do you mean we? You'll be sitting on your butt in an air-conditioned office while the real men in this outfit do all the hard work."

"Yeah, well chump that's right. I'll be thinking of you each time I walk to the water fountain for a cold glass of water."

"You know Tony one day very soon I'm going to kick your skinny butt from one end of this camp to the other."

"Any time you want it big man come and get it."

"Alright you two," said Rick "Shut up and eat."

The men ate the rest of the meal in silence. Exiting the mess hall, they washed their trays and cups and walked back to their hooch, hanging their trays and cups on a nail near their racks. The rest of the evening was spent exploring the camp, stopping by the EM club for a couple of beers and checking out their mortar pit, which Rick decided need some additional sandbags to replace those that were torn and leaking sand.

It seemed to Rick that he had just fallen asleep when a piercing wail woke him with a start. It took a minute for him to realize that the screaming sirens were the signal that they were under attack. There were sounds of men yelling and the dull thud of mortar rounds exploding somewhere nearby.

"Get into the mortar pit!" yelled Rick as he stumbled down the hooch yelling, shaking bed frames and pushing men still groggy from sleep toward the door. Suddenly he stopped at Tony's rack. Tony was sitting on his bed pulling on his boots. "You don't have time for that," said Rick as he grabbed Tony and threw him out the door. "Come on guys forget about your gear, get out of here and into the pit."

It only took a few seconds, but to Rick it was like watching everything in slow motion as the men ran out of the hooch. Rick was the last one out. Jumping into the mortar pit, he made a quick head count making sure everyone was accounted for. The sirens continued to wail, and occasionally the men heard a mortar round explode or a rocket screaming overhead.

"What time is it?" asked Ted.

"About 0330," said Rick. "We'll wait for the sirens to stop, then everyone grab you combat gear and hustle to our defensive position."

"Hey O'Neil," said Tony. "You nearly broke my neck when you grabbed me back there."

"Too bad Marchesi, better you got a little bruise than a piece of shrapnel in your sorry butt. As for the rest of you, Tony's not the only one who forgot their training. The first thing you do when those sirens go off is head for the mortar pit. The time you spend getting dressed could get you killed."

"Ricks right," said Jimmy. "From now on I'm sleeping with my boots on!"

There was a murmur of agreement as the men sat on the benches waiting for the all clear.

"Good," thought Rick. "We've survived the first attack. We're all scared, but at least they won't forget the next time."

A few minutes later, the wailing sirens stopped, and the booming voice of Chief Maxwell resounded through the camp. "Okay men, get your gear and move to your positions. Team leaders check your men for any injuries, make sure they have their weapons, helmets and flak jackets, any problems let me know. This is for real guys, and I need everyone doing their job."

The men spilled out of the mortar pit a little dazed and shaky from their first taste of war, but the months of training began to kick in, and the squad quickly got their gear and ran to their defensive position about fifty yards from their sleeping quarters next to one of the watchtowers.

Couching behind a low wall of sandbags Rick went from man to man ensuring that each had his combat gear and that his rifle was loaded. The majority of attacks usually consisted of a few mortar rounds and a random rocket or two. Mostly their camp was not the target. What the VC really wanted was to blow up a few of the large fuel storage tanks just across the road from the battalion's camp.

To the VC the Seabees were just in the way and dropping a few mortars on them was just too bad. The last time ground forces had attacked the camp was during the '68' TET Offensive, ten Seabees were wounded and one killed. John McKeon, a medic was hit by a piece of shrapnel as he ran to help another wounded Seabee. The camp was renamed Camp McKeon in honor of his sacrifice.

A few minutes went by when First Class Petty Officer Clark crouching low rushed into the bunker. "Everyone of your men okay?" asked Clark.

"Yeah, were all present and accounted for," said Rick.

"Good, there's a lot of activity around us, but the Marines are out, and air support will be showing up soon. It's likely we've seen the last of those mortars, but you never know so keep your heads down and wait for further orders."

"Was anyone hit?" asked Ted.

"Three that I know of, one got a lot of shrapnel in his back, but he should be okay," said Clark as he ran off to check on the next position.

"Damn one minute you're dreaming of some babe on the beach and the next you're in a mortar pit with a bunch of smelly bodies," said Ted.

"The only one who smells is you Troutman," said Tony.

Ted started to respond but before he did, everyone was laughing. "Yeah it was the bean and ham that did it," said Ted. The men continued to quietly laugh and make comments about each other's cleanliness. Rick knew he should quiet them down, but figured the joking was a good way to release some of the tension.

Their laughing was interrupted by what sounded like the roaring of an outboard motor or the buzzing of an angry swarm of hornets. Looking up Tony yelled, "Look at that. "

The men looked up in the sky to see several beams of red light streaking downward. It was not until a flare exploded nearby that the men saw the source of the red lights. "Hey it's Puff the Magic Dragon", shouted Jimmy.

"He's right," said Tony, "It's firing those mini-guns. The red lights are the tracers."

"Puff the Magic Dragon" was the nickname given to the Air Force's AC-47. The plane was equipped with three 7.62mm General Electric miniguns that fired through two rear window openings and the side cargo door. These gunships provided close air support to the ground troops. The minigun was a six barreled M61 Vulcan, a modern version of the infamous Gatling gun. The Vulcan could fire up to 6,000 rounds a minute. Because of the high rate of fire instead of the rat-a-tat of an M60, the minigun sounded more like the roar of an outboard motor. The red tracer bullets came streaming out of the six barrels resembled a beam of light rather than a series of separate red dashes.

The men watch in awe as the gunships circle above guns blazing. Soon UH-1 Iroquois "Hueys" joined the battle, unleashing volley after volley of rockets from the pods mounted on each side of the helicopter.

"Man nothing could survive that kind of firepower," said Rick.

"Yeah anyone out there is hamburger," said Tony. "I sure could have used that kind of firepower back in the Bronx."

After about fifteen minutes, the gunships and helicopters moved away, and except for some distant small arms fire, things were quiet. "Okay men back to your quarters and get some sleep." It was Warrant Officer Cohen. "We start our construction projects tomorrow, and I expect everyone in front of my office by 0700," Mr. Cohen said.

"Jeez they expect us to work after a night like this?" said Jimmy.

"We build. We fight remember?" said Ted.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah," said Tony "Whatever."

The men walked back to their hooch, propped their rifles next to their racks and flopped fully clothed down on the mattresses. In a matter of minutes, the long day and their first taste of war caught up with them and they drifted off into a fitful sleep; each man wondering how they were going to make it through the next nine months.

Chapter Three

In Country

As the days and weeks went by the Seabees fell into a routine. Reveille was at 0600. The men dressed, ate breakfast and headed out the gate to their job sites. The Seabees performed many construction projects. Just like any large construction company, the men in a Seabee battalion had the same construction trades as their civilian counterparts. Plumbers, electricians, heavy equipment operators, carpenters, steel workers, mechanics and engineer aides were all part of the battalion work crew.

The "Bees" were responsible for projects ranging from building housing units to constructing runways and bridges. Most of the projects were close to camp, but several crews were on extended duty in more remote areas.

The work was long and hard with the men working ten to twelve hours a day six days a week. The Seabees were also responsible for providing security, requiring each squad to pull night duty every six days. Of course, when the warning sirens went off every Seabees hit the mortar pits and manned defensive position until the threat had passed. Then it was back to bed for a few more hours of sleep. Many nights there would be more than one alert, and then men would have to drag themselves out of bed and to their work sites after spending most of the night in a bunker or mortar pit. As a result, the "Bees" could fall asleep whenever there were a few minutes of down time.

Working in the hot sun and humidity all day took a toll on the men. Work crews would arrive back to camp after a long day laboring in the tropical heat; the men streaked with sweat and grime, perspiration soaking their green government issued pants. Within a month or so, most Seabees had adapted to the harsh conditions. Whatever body fat they had when they arrived in Nam had turned into hard lean muscle. Except for their regulation hair cut, these tan and fit Seabees could pass for lifeguards or California surfers.

Of course, not all could deal with the torrid weather and hard physical work. Despite a steady supply of water and salt tablets, a few men would faint. Some would end up spending a couple of days recovering before being sent back out with their work crew. Other men assigned to headquarters' company worked around camp, either in an office or on one of the many maintenance and security details. The screw-ups and malcontents ended up on the infamous "Honey Bucket" crew or given KP at the mess hall.

Jimmy Francis was an early causality of the demanding work. As a lowly Apprentice Constructionman, his job consisted of digging ditches and hauling supplies while the experienced men did the more skilled jobs. Rick as Crew Chief recognized that Jimmy was not cut out for this work and he, Ted and the rest of the crew would help Jimmy when the kid started to falter.

Unfortunately, because Jimmy could not pull his weight, the work crew fell behind on their work schedule. One day the heat and dust combined with the lack of sleep caught up with Jimmy, and he collapsed in a heap at the bottom of a ditch.

Ted immediately jumped in and lifted Jimmy into the crew is waiting arms. They carried him over to a shady spot behind the tool shed. "I'll be alright guys, just give me a couple of minutes."

Ted handed Jimmy a canteen of water, "Here take a sip of this." Rick took a clean rag, soaked it in water an pressed it to Jimmy's head.

Francis pushed Rick's hand away, "Come on O'Neil stop treating me like a baby."

"Nobody's treating you like a baby, now relax and rest."

"Hey O'Neil: why isn't your crew working? We're already behind schedule, and Mr. Kline is not very happy."

Rick looked up and saw Chief Watson walking around the corner of the shed. "Sorry Chief, Francis fainted, and we're just giving him time to catch his breath."

The Chief knelt down beside Jimmy, put his hand on his shoulder and said, "You okay son?"

"Yeah Chief, I'll be alright; it's just the heat and being up all night because of the mortar attack."

"Look, son, some of us can handle the heat and the hard work and some can't. It doesn't make you less of a man. I was looking at your service record and saw where you could type and do some basic bookkeeping."

"Uh yes Chief, I helped out after school in my dad's shop, filing and taking care of the paperwork."

"Good, I might have a job for you helping Marchesi back at camp, seems he's getting a little behind in his work and is always complaining about needing some help," said Watson.

"Huh that sounds like Tony, he's nothing but a big cry baby." said Ted.

"Troutman, when I want your opinion, I'll rattle your cage. Until then shut up and get back to work and that goes for the rest of you men."

"Yes Chief, sorry Chief," said Ted as he and the other men went back to their jobs.

"Wait a minute O'Neil; I want to talk to you."

Rick turned around and followed the Chief away from Jimmy and the crew.

"Yes, Chief,"

"O'Neil, you're a good crew chief, and you have a good bunch of guys, but Jimmy's the weak link. Now I appreciate how all of you are trying to help him, but it's slowing us down. Give him light duty for the rest of the day. I'm going to assign Jimmy to a couple of days rest, and then he'll be working in the office. Despite what Troutman thinks we could use some one with Francis' office skills."

"Okay, Chief and Ted didn't mean any disrespect. It's just that he doesn't like Marchesi."

"To tell the truth I have my eye on him. There's something funny going on, and I think he's involved."

"Oh?" said Rick.

"It's just a feeling, so let's keep this discussion to ourselves. By the way, between you and me if I had ten men like Troutman we would finish this project way ahead of schedule, now let's get back to work."

"Yes Chief and thanks," said Rick.

Chief Watson walked away to check on another crew and Rick went back to Jimmy.

"Stay here a while and drink some more water, take a couple of salt tablets, and when you're feeling better, I need you to sort out the tool shed and make a list of equipment and supplies we'll need."

"Stop babying me Rick," said Jimmy. "I can carry my weight and do my job. It's just taking me a while to get used to all this heat."

"Alright Jimmy, but you heard the Chief, they need you in the office, and with your skills and knowledge you could be a real asset. Hell, anyone can dig ditches. You're more valuable to the battalion keeping us in supplies than busting your butt slinging dirt all day."

"I just want to be one of the guys Rick; I don't want any special treatment."

"You're not getting any special treatment. Those guys in the office put in long hours, most days they're still working after we have showered and eaten supper. Now I got a crew to ramrod, and you have a job to do."

"Okay Rick," said Jimmy, "And thanks."

Rick joined the crew and started feeding an electrical cable through a metal conduit.

"Hey Rick," said Ted, "Is Jimmy going to be okay?"

Rick nodded his head, and replied, "Jimmy will be okay".

"Sorry about getting the Chief mad at you," said Ted. "I'll try to keep my big mouth shut."

"Yeah you do that," said Rick.

"Aye, aye Sir," said Ted.

Rick smiling turned back to work.

Ted picked up his transistor radioand tuned it to the Armed Services Radio. The DJ started playing We Gotta Get Out of This Place by Eric Burdon and the Animals. "Hey," said Ted, "they're playing our song."

The song was a favorite among the soldiers in Vietnam, especially the chorus, "If it's the last thing we ever do!" The crew picked up their pace as they sang along with the band, Rick paused in his work and watched the men. He felt fortunate to serve with such a great group of guys and silently prayed that they all would get out of this place alive.

Chapter Four

How Things Really Work

It had been a couple of months since Jimmy Francis had left the crew and went to work with Tony Marchesi in the company's office. Jimmy had turned out to be a real asset. It was as if Jimmy had to prove himself by quickly clearing up the mountains of paperwork. Even Warrant Officer Kline had commented on his work. The downside of all this was Marchesi's influence on Jimmy. Tony had managed to make Jimmy his gofer. With Jimmy doing most of the work, Tony had more time to devote to his sideline business.

Marchesi quickly figured out how things really worked. The only way to get things done was to forget about proper procedure and acquire needed supplies by any means. Using his street smarts and a lot of bravado, Tony had developed a network of people in other units who he could count on to furnish items much faster than the official supply chain. There was nothing new about this method of operation, trading items between units was a long tradition in all armies from the ancient Romans to today. The military even had a term for it "Comsaw".

Tony soon realized that if you had access to supplies and connections you could turn "comsawing" into a nice little side business, trading supplies for anything from drugs to gold, and smuggled home. Of course, this meant you were involved with the black market and if caught could result in a court martial and if you ran afoul of the black marketers, you might even end up dead.

Except for Chief Watson's suspicions, the other senior enlisted men and officers were impressed with Tony's "comsawing". Little did they know Marchesi was also lining his own pockets, quickly building a sizeable nest egg. Tony was not shy about his abilities or his growing influence. He often bragged to the other enlisted men about his latest acquisition. For the most part, Rick and Ted keep their distance from Tony. Assigned to headquarters meant Tony and Jimmy moved to new sleeping quarters with the other clerks. Tony moving out was okay with Rick's crew.

Marchesi was a constant source of trouble, and although the guys liked Jimmy and treated him like a little brother, they knew he had slowed them down making more work for all of them.

The Seabees worked six days a week unless they had guard duty or there was a high priority job. Sundays the men usually stayed in camp, spending their time writing letters, doing laundry and resting up after a hard workweek. Some of the "Bees" including Rick and Ted volunteered to help out at a local orphanage. They and other members of the battalion spent many Sundays improving the children's living conditions, drilling a new well and repairing some buildings damaged in a recent mortar attack. However, what Ted, Rick and the rest of the volunteers enjoyed the most was playing with the children.

One of the big attractions on Sunday was The China Beach R&R Center. The beach was located about ten miles from Camp McKeon and was the "In Country" rest and recreation facility. China Beach was a place where service men, especially those coming back from long patrols, would go to unwind. The Center was right on the beach and except for the concertina wire, watch towers, armed guards, and gunships patrolling against enemy attack it could be a resort in Florida or California. For the men of MCB 43, the only way to get there was to hitch a ride or borrow a jeep. Only chiefs and officers rated a Jeep or vehicle, making them out of reach for most enlisted man.

Tony Marchesi was the exception; he somehow had access to jeeps and other vehicles the average enlisted did not. The rumor was that he and a Lieutenant JG were involved in a little black marketing. It was the Lieutenant who arranged the transportation. Most Sundays would find Tony at the wheel of a jeep or weapons carrier giving the Camp the bird as he and a few of his friends roared out the main gate.

Tony's increasing sense of entitlement and his ability to flaunt standard military procedures only increased his reputation as a hustler and the resentment the men felt toward him. Despite this, Tony was becoming known among the enlisted men and the officers as someone who could get you most anything that you wanted. Sometimes what was needed were hard to find items for a work project, his ability to quickly produce the critical piece of equipment was making him indispensable and earning him brownie points with the officers and chiefs. Many times Tony was able to line his pockets at the same time he was helping the battalion.

Rick and Ted tried to stay away from Tony, but in a small camp that was hard to do. For some reason, Tony liked to hang out with Ted and Rick and would come over in the evenings or on Sundays just to talk or brag about his little business venture. The guys tolerated Tony's boasting because every occasionally he would drop off a bottle of top shelf bourbon or other gifts beyond the reach of the average enlisted man. Although both Ted and Rick questioned how Tony got these gifts. Tony would assure them that he did not do anything illegal.

The men knew there was an element of truth in this. Because of the tremendous pressure to complete projects by any means possible, some officers were trading with other units for critical items that the battalion needed. Most of the time this was okay and legal, but sometimes the temptation was too great. If someone accused Tony of stealing, he always gave the same explanation.

"Look, guys," said Tony," I didn't ask to be sent over here and the way this war is going we've already lost. Everybody back home is against the war. Kids are marching in the streets, burning draft cards and running up to Canada. Why shouldn't I take advantage of the situation, besides when we all bug out of here most of the equipment and supplies will be left behind. So just lighten up and enjoy the freebies."

It was hard to argue against Tony's logic, many felt that this war was a waste of American lives and money. Because the Seabees mission was building bridges, repairing roads, drilling wells and other needed projects and because these projects would benefit the Vietnamese after the battalion returned home; most felt that what they were doing had some value. Still, no one wanted to be the last man killed.

Everyone was aware of the growing restlessness among the troops and knew of the increasing number of protests, riots and the killings on the Kent State University campus back in May of 1970. The men were angry about the public's strong resentment against anyone in uniform. They had heard of protestors spitting on returning vets and even beating them. It did not matter if these rumors were true or not. The average enlisted man knew there would be no hero's welcome when he returned home.

Rick, Ted and the rest of the Seabee battalion spent their days working hard and their free time sleeping and resting up for the next day's construction projects. Wasting time and energy worrying about events and things they could not control was reserved for late night drinking bouts. The result of all this was a simple realization that this was not their father's war. There would be no dancing in the streets and no real victory. What all the men of MCB 43 could do was to look out for each other and pray they would survive the tour, returning one day to the "Real World" and putting this damn war behind them.

Little did they know that they would never escape the effects of this war on their lives. Some veterans, it would just be an occasional nightmare. For others, it would be bouts of PTSD and depression leading to suicide. To wounded veterans, their physical injuries and pain would be a constant reminder. Agent Orange would cause cancers and other debilitating diseases twenty, thirty and more years later. However, right now all the men cared about was doing their jobs, staying alive, and counting the days until they would board that big bird and fly home.

Chapter Five

Black Market

As the days and weeks dragged on Tony's ability to find and acquire needed building materials gained him favors usually restricted to officers. One perk that Tony took advantage of was his use of a vehicle on Sundays. Most of the time Ted and Rick did not go with Tony preferring instead spending time with the orphans or simply hanging around camp. But from time to time the temptation of going to China Beach was too overpowering; besides they reasoned that if the supply officer didn't mind Tony taking a jeep or weapons carrier who were they to complain.

It was the middle of July and temperatures were soaring well into the triple digits. Tony, Ted, Rick, Jimmy and a couple of other Seabees piled into a weapons carrier and headed for China Beach. The men all carried either M16's or Colt Forty-Fives. The only times the "Bees" were not carrying their rifles was in camp or on a job site. Even then, weapons were always close by in case of an attack. Most of the enlisted men clubs did not allow weapons inside. Like an old cowboy movie, you were required to check your weapons at the door.

About halfway to the beach, Tony took a left instead of a right taking the truck towards Da Nang.

"Hey Tony," shouted Ted, "You forget the way to the beach?"

"Calm down Troutman. I just have some business to take care of first."

"What kind of business?"

"Don't worry. I just need to check on a few things for the Lieutenant. It won't take long."

A few minutes later the weapons carrier pulled over to the side of the road, just across from what looked like a small supply depot, surrounded by Concertina wire. Two armed Vietnamese civilian guards stood guard at the gate. A sign hanging over the gate said "An Dung Import Export Company".

Just before entering the compound Tony pulled the jeep over to the side of the road and turning around said, "Okay guys do me a favor. I have to go into this compound to take care of some problems we're having with this supplier. So look mean, and stay alert."

As the weapons carrier approached the gate, Rick said, "What the Hell's going on Marchesi? Is this one of your business deals gone sour?"

"O'Neil, I said don't worry, just play along and we'll be on our way to the beach in no time."

"I just don't like it, Tony. Something's not right."

"Come on Rick; you have no problem hopping in the truck and going to the beach or wearing Jungle boots and other stuff I've given you and Ted. All I'm asking is to keep your mouth shut and look mean. These jerks have been giving the Lieutenant some problems, and he told me to try and straighten things out."

"Okay Tony, but be careful I'm not getting shot because of your screw up," Said Rick"

"No sweat just let me do all the talking." At that, Tony down shifted and turned into the gate. After exchanging a few sharp words with the guards, one of the guards picked up a phone and after a few moments waved the truck through the gate.

"Man look at all this crap," said Ted "They have more stuff than we do."

"Where did this all come from Tony?" asked Rick.

"Oh you know the usual, a little here, a trade there, lost and found stuff and your everyday five finger discount."

"Sounds like a black market operation," said Ted"

"Well what you call black marketers some would call entrepreneurship, "said Tony.

The truck carrying the Seabees pulled up in front of a concrete block one-story building. Two steel barred windows on either side of the steel door were the only openings in the building Concertina wire, and shards of broken bottles embedded around the edge of the roof prevented any thieves from sneaking in and stealing the goods stored in the building.

"Looks tighter than Fort Knox," Ted said. "What are they storing inside, gold?"

"Rough neighborhood ", said Tony as he opened the truck's door and stepped down. Turning, he poked his head into the window. "Just stay in the truck. I'll only be a minute." Then to the other men in the back of the truck, he said. "Jimmy, stay here with Ted and Rick and keep your eyes open. Mason, you and Whitey, take your M16's and follow me."

"I don't like this," Rick said.

"Not a Hell of a lot we can do about it now," Ted said.

"Yeah, but that S.O.B is up to something and he brought us along as a backup."

"You're probably right," Ted said. "Let's keep our eyes open and our rifles locked and loaded."

Ten minutes went by and Rick was about to get out of the truck when the steel door opened and Mason and Whitey walked out followed by Tony and an older Vietnamese man. The Vietnamese didn't look very happy as Tony stuffed a large envelope under his fatigue shirt. The man said something to Tony who stopped, turned and facing the much smaller man said, "Next time don't try to screw me, or it will be the last time you screw anybody." With that, Tony walked back to the weapons carrier, and the two other Seabees climbed in the back.

Before Tony could settle into the seat, Rick exploded. "What are you up to Marchesi?"

"Not now Rick," Tony said as he started the weapons carrier, found first gear and headed to the gate. The two guards hesitated as Tony approached, forcing Tony to bring the vehicle to a quick stop. The dust swirled around the weapons carrier as Tony laid on the horn. A few tense seconds passed until the man Tony had been talking to shouted something in Vietnamese. The guards shrugged their shoulders and slowly swung the gate open.

Tony roared through the gate, made a quick right turn and drove the truck around several Vietnamese on their way to market. The men in back hung on to the sides of the vehicle as Tony shifted to third gear and the weapons carrier picked up speed.

"Slow it down Tony; you'll get us all killed," Rick said.

Tony lifted his foot off the gas pedal, and the truck settled back down to a safer speed.

"Now," said Rick, "Tell us what that was all about."

"That Gook shorted us on a shipment, and I'm supposed to collect the money he owes us."

"Sounds like he was none too happy about it," Ted said. "I have a feeling that if we weren't here, he wouldn't be so quick to give you the money."

"Yeah, I owe you guys," Tony said. "Sometimes you have to show them that you mean business."

"I guess that's why you brought Whitey and Mason with you. They're two of the biggest, dumbest and ugliest looking guys in the battalion," Ted said.

Tony laughed, "You got that right. Now let's head for the beach, I promised those two goons a day at the beach, a steak for lunch and all the beer they could drink."

Rick looked at Ted and just shook his head. The weapons carrier with the men turned into the entrance to China Beach. The MP's on guard waved them through, and Tony headed for the enlisted men's club.

Pulling in front of the club, the men climbed out of the truck and walked into the club. Unlike their club back at camp, which consisted of concrete, block walls about three feet high, a corrugated steel roof and a cooler for beer and soda, this club was air-conditioned, with a real bar and attractive Vietnamese waitresses.

Tony and Jimmy obviously had been there before because the armed guard greeted both men warmly. "Hi, Tony, how ya doing?"

"Thanks, Henderson," Tony said. The men walked half way across the large dimly light room and found a table. But before they could sit down Tony said," "Jimmy, you, Mason and Whitey take the next table. Let them order whatever they what and tell the waitress to put it on my tab."

"Okay Tony, you're the Man," Jimmy said as he guided the two bigger men to a table next to Tony, Ted, and Rick.

"Those three don't have half a brain between them." Tony laughed as he sat down and waved to one of the waitresses.

"I'll agree with you about the other two, but Jimmy's no dummy," Ted said.

"Yeah whatever," Tony said. "Hey order whatever you want. The steaks here are decent. Order me a cold Bud and a medium rare steak with fries and corn on the cob, I'll be right back." Before either Rick or Ted could respond, Tony got up and walked away.

"He sure likes giving orders," Ted said as the waitress appeared. With a sigh, Rick placed his and Tony's order. Ted paused for a moment before looking up at the pretty waitress, "Make that three streaks sweetie and bring two pitchers of beer."

"There was more going on back there, then just a screwed up delivery," Ted said.

"Yeah I know," said Rick. "Part of me wants to find out what he's really into and part doesn't."

"Well right now stop trying to be a Boy Scout and enjoy the cold beer and steak," Ted said. "Besides like Tony says the war will be over soon, so what difference does it make? We'll be out of here in a few months, and these people will go on killing each other."

"Well I don't totally agree with you, but I guess I'm out numbered."

"That's right, brother, so just lean back and enjoy."

The men enjoyed their beers and steaks, and then spent a couple of hours on the beach before heading back to camp. Over the next couple of months, Rick and Ted occasionally would go with Tony. Sometimes they made a stop at the same compound and sometimes they went directly to the beach. Each time Rick felt uneasy about Tony's dealings and his own involvement. However, Ted did not let it bother him. To Ted, they were all screwed anyway, Vietnam was a lost cause and as long as no one got hurt, why not enjoy yourselves?

Unknown to all the men except Jimmy was the fact that Tony was involved in more than just procuring needed items for the battalion. Right from the beginning of their tour, Marchesi had started up his own little black market business. Before going overseas, Tony and his dad had hatched a plan where Tony would smuggle arms and drugs out of Vietnam. It was no secret that drugs were a problem. For one thing, they were cheap and easy to get. The drugs helped some soldiers escape the horrors of war and the daily stress of being in combat.

A couple of the guys from Tony's neighborhood had shipped contraband home while they were overseas and made a large profit selling the stolen goods. Some had even managed to smuggle out AK47's, the Russian automatic weapon. Anyone toting an AK47 got immediate respect from the other hoods. These weapons quickly became highly desirable selling at astronomical prices. To Tony and his dad, this was an opportunity too good to pass up. With Tony sourcing the illegal goods and Alfonso Marchesi handling distribution, both figured it was their ticket to the big time.

The system Tony set up was simple. As part of the battalion's project planning team, Tony knew exactly when items were scheduled and for what jobs. Also as the chief buyer, he could "fudge" the quantities and skim the excess for his own little business. Once he was able to get Jimmy assigned to the warehouse, Tony used Jimmy to gain access to the supply depot. Tony would drive items then on Sunday to a private compound where he would trade construction material for weapons, drugs, gold or whatever valuable goods his supplier had acquired. Tony liked to deal in small items because they were easier to trade and smuggle out of Vietnam.

Even if caught, the chances of Tony spending any real prison time were remote. Tony figured the worst that would happen was he would be disciplined by the Captain, who would view the offense as a onetime incident assigning Tony to the "Honey Bucket Patrol" fine him some money or worse case, demotion in rank. However, Tony counted on his growing reputation as someone who could find high priority items as a cover for his sideline business.

The final step in the plan was smuggling the goods out of "Nam." The method of smuggling was complicated and involved more people than Tony would like. However, the rewards far outweighed the risks. The battalion allowed each man to ship home a box of clothes and other items.

Tony hid the illegal items by building a wooden sea chest and filling it with things the man wanted to ship home.

Most of the men would buy cameras, tape recorders even a set of china at the China Beach PX. Although the military was cracking down on smuggling, using dogs to check each man's sea bags and gear that shipped stateside, little time was spent checking the thousands of boxes going home every day. About all the military could do was randomly check one now and then.

Tony would build a false bottom in the box and hide his contraband in the space, nailing down the false bottom and filling the rest of the box up with clothes and cheap trinkets. There was a limit of one box per month per man, but not everyone mailed things home, so Tony paid guys fifty dollars each for helping him sneak the illegal contraband out of country. It was a nice little operation; his dad was making money and increasing his reputation at home while Tony played the wheeler-dealer in Nam.

Attacks on the camp and construction sites had lessened to a few mortars lobbed into camp once or twice a week. The major military action was further north, but even that had quieted down. It seemed as if both sides knew the war would be over soon. The increasing war protests back home gave the North Vietnamese the ammunition and leverage they needed to delay the Paris Peace Talks, knowing that the American people were tired of the war. These delaying tactics caused more death and destruction on both sides than if the USA had vigorously fought to win instead of practicing a policy of containment. The United States controlled the skies and the major urban areas. Although American Forces had won every major battle, the Viet Cong and the North Vietnamese army had control of most of the countryside. The North Vietnamese took a long view of the war figuring they just had to wait out the Americans and move in once we withdrew our troops.

The Seabees settled into a routine. Work crews kept up with their construction projects, working six to seven days a week. Each man counted the days until the deployment ended and flew back to the "Real World". For Rick, Ted and his crew the important thing was finishing the mission and staying safe as the long hot summer slowly ended. By now the men were hardened mentally and physically from the rigors of working in the tropical heat and standing guard duties at night, but morale remained high as they could see the end of their tour in sight.

Chapter Six

Death and Deception

Sunday, September 10th started out as hot and humid as any day the Seabees had experienced since landing in Nam nine months earlier; despite the heat, the men's mood was upbeat. They had just returned from the amphitheater where the captain had given them their flight schedules. Starting September 25th, men would be leaving in the same order they had arrived. By the 30th, the entire battalion will be back at their home base at Davisville, Rhode Island. Because Rick and his crew were on the first flight over, that meant in ten days they would be on the first flight out.

The advance team from Davisville was flying in next Monday, and the Captain made it very clear that everyone would work right up to the time their flight left. Furthermore, every member of MCB 43 would assist the advance team and give them a warm welcome. However, all the men heard was the battalion was heading home.

Rick and Ted were walking back to their hooch, laughing and talking about the first thing they were going to do when they got back to the home. I'm going to Salty's in Portland and eat lobster soaked in butter and wash it all down with an ice cold Narragansett beer."

"Sounds good Ted," laughed Rick.

"How about you Bud?"

"I'm going to Mario's for a pepperoni pizza and a cold Bud." "Of course that's right after I give Sam the biggest and longest kiss of her life."

"Are you two finally going to tie the knot?" Ted asked.

"You bet, she's got it all planned and by November 1st we'll be husband and wife."

"Good," that still gives me time to talk her out of making the biggest mistake of her life."

"Yeah sure, you and Ann will be too busy planning your own wedding. Besides if anyone needs talking to, it's Ann," joked Rick.

"We're both darn lucky, we've survived Nam and now we're going home to marry the loves of our lives."

"Well, we haven't finished our tour yet anything can happen. But you're right about those girls of ours," Rick said.

As they approached their hooch, Jimmy came running up shouting: "Hey guys, Tony wants to know if you want to go out and celebrate."

Rick looked at Ted who shrugged his shoulders and said, "Why not?"

Rick turned to Jimmy and said, "Sure Jimmy, tell Tony we'll go."

"Great, will leave in about half an hour. Oh and bring some civvies."

"Why do we need to bring our civvies?" asked Ted.

"Because Tony is taking us to a private club that's off-limits to enlisted men,"

"Wait a minute," Rick said. "I'm not sure I want to go where we're not welcomed."

"Come on Rick," pleaded Jimmy. "You'll love the place. I've been there lots of times. They got great food, cold drinks, and pretty girls."

"Okay, we'll go." Rick said, "But I want to get back early enough to go to the MARS station and call Sam."

"No sweat, Rick, Meet us at the motor pool in half an hour."

Thirty minutes later with Jimmy driving Rick, Ted and Tony headed out the gate. "What's with this club?"Rick asked.

"It's a member's only club for civilians and high ranking military.

"A private club, so how does a low life punk like you get accepted into a private club?" laughed Ted.

"Ya know Troutman, if I wasn't feeling so good about leaving this Hell Hole, I'd stop the jeep and throw you out,"

"Okay, cool it," said Rick, "but, seriously Tony how did you get invited to this club?"

"Well let's just say I did the owner, Jacques Monét some favors."

"What kind of favors?" Rick asked.

"Look, O'Neil stop asking so many damn questions, and just enjoy yourself. I thought you guys might want to have a good time, but if you're going to keep asking questions I'll bring you back to camp."

Rick let out a sigh and said, "Yeah okay no more questions."

The men were quiet for the rest of the ride. Jimmy drove the jeep though an area of Da Nang that Rick and Ted had not seen before. The streets were wider, more like a boulevard with tall trees and flowers. Instead of the usual traffic chaos caused by bikes, scooters, mini bus and military vehicles, these streets were relatively traffic free. Villas lined the streets painted in a variety of pastel colors and surrounded by concrete walls. Uniformed police were on every street corner, and several of the larger buildings had armed guards.

Ted sitting in the back seat kept looking from side to side at all the impressive architecture. "Whoa nice neighborhood, I didn't know such places still exist."

Tony looked back from the front seat and said, "The VC leave this area alone. The last time it was hit was during the '68' Tet Offensive. Since then this area of Da Nang is off limits."

"This Monét, must be paying a lot of protection money to keep his place safe," said Rick.

"Money talks," laughed Tony. "Someday you guys will wise up and realize how things really work. Now listen up, we'll be arriving at the club in a couple of minutes. Keep your mouths shut. I'll do all the talking. We have to go around back to a storage shed and change into our civvies. Then we go through the kitchen and up to the main bar area. If anyone asks just tell them you're Canadians working for RMK."

The jeep stopping at the gate, a guard carrying an AK47 approached the vehicle. Tony handed him a ten-dollar bill. The guard smiled and waved them through the gate. Inside the walls, it was another world. The club sat back about 50 feet from the gate, a concrete driveway painted pink formed a semi-circle around a large water fountain that was in the middle of a well-tended flowerbed.

The building itself resembled the type of villa one might find on the coast of Southern France. It was a two-story stucco structure painted a darker pink than the walls surrounding the villa. Glistening white columns supported a balcony, which spanned the front of the building. Protecting the main entrance was a massive wrought iron double door guarded by well-armed guards.

Ted, staring with his mouth open said, "Man look at the place! If I didn't know better, I'd think we were in Monte Carlo, not Da Nang."

"Stop acting like the hick you is, shut your mouth and keep your eyes down" hissed Tony as Jimmy slowly drove the jeep around back. Ted was about to reach over and punch Tony, but a jab in the ribs by Rick stopped him.

They stopped in the back of the villa near a large storage shed. Several servants were busy unloading supplies from a truck while two more were polishing a big Mercedes. A middle age Vietnamese dressed in a white shirt and tan shorts walked up to the jeep wearing a big smile.

"Ah, Mr. Tony good to see you again and you brought some friends."

"Hi Quang, how are you?" said Tony.

"Oh I am well, thank you. "

"My friends and I will be staying for lunch. Is Mr. Tran here today?"

"Yes sir, Mr. Tran is enjoying a cocktail in the game room. Will you be joining him?"

"Yeah, we have some business to discuss. Bring me a cold Bud and set my friends up with drinks and something to eat. Jimmy, you stay with the jeep."

"Okay," said Jimmy sounding a little dejected.

"Why can't he join us?" asked Rick.

"The best advice my Dad gave me was don't trust anyone. Jimmy's job is to see no one screws with the Jeep," whispered Tony as Quang escorted them into the shed to change.

As the men changed into chinos and polo shirts, Rick turned to Ted and said, "I just don't like this setup. Tony's up to no good and he brought us along to watch his back."

"Could be," agreed Ted. "But we're here now so we might as well enjoy ourselves."

"Okay, but keep your eyes and ears open and be ready to bug out of here."

"No sweat, big guy," Ted said with a wink, and then turning called out, "Mr. Quang, we're ready."

Quang quickly appeared, bowed and said, "Follow me please."

Ted and Rick were lead through the back door and into the kitchen, then up the back stairs. At the top of the stairs, Quang opened thick mahogany doors and ushered them to a table in the corner. Waving to a waitress, Quang bowed again and said, "Enjoy your meals, Mia will be happy to take your order."

With that, Quang left the room. Mia bowed to Ted and Rick and said in a soft voice, "What is your wish gentlemen?"

Ted ever the clown, started looking around then stopped and with a smile said, "Gentlemen? Oh, I guess you mean us?"

Mia did not get the joke, but merely bowed again and said, "Yes, how can I help you?"

Rick looked at the pretty girl and said, "We'd like two of your biggest steaks, medium rare and two Jim Beams on the rocks with ice water chasers." "Ah, very good, I will bring your drinks right away. Would you gentlemen like a cool cloth?" Mia produced a silver tray, on which were several white towels and tongs. Using the tongs, she picked up the wet towels and placed them on small china plates in front of Ted and Rick.

"Now that's what I call service," Ted said, as he wiped his face and hands with the towel. "A guy could get used to this real quick."

"Well if you like this so much why don't you sign up with RMK. Remember that man who came to our camp looking for guys to come back as civilians and work on their construction projects?"

"Are you kidding me? One tour was enough. Beside Ann would skin me alive."

"Yeah there aren't enough cold towels, booze or steaks to keep me here a minute longer than necessary," Rick agreed.

"Anyways when we pull out this whole country will go to Hell in a hand basket."

"You got that right brother," said Ted. "Sure feel sorry for all those poor people who'll lose everything including their lives when the Commies take over. Those damn politicians in Washington should have left the fighting to the generals. If they did, the war would have been over years ago. Now there's nothing we can do except get out of here alive and try to forget this place."

"I don't think I'll ever be able to forget Nam," Rick said.

"Well here come our drinks, maybe our good pal Jim Beam can help us forget, at least for a little while." Ted said.

They were just finishing their steaks and beginning a third round of drinks when Tony came walking into the room. "Okay, guys we got to get out of here now!"

"What are you talking about?" said Ted. "Rick and I are just starting to enjoy ourselves, and Mia promised strawberry shortcake for dessert."

"Look the deal with Tran soured, and he's pissed. It's best if we beat feet out of here."

Standing up Rick looked Tony in the eye. "What kind of trouble have you gotten us into Marchesi?"

"O'Neil for once keeps your mouth shut and follows me." With that, Tony turned and walked through the doors to the back staircase.

"I guess we better follow him," Ted said.

"Okay, but I want some answers real soon. I knew sooner or later that S.O.B would get his ass in trouble and drag us along with him," said Rick as they hustled down the stairs and out the back door.

By the time they reached the back of the compound, Tony was climbing into the jeep with Jimmy sitting behind the wheel motor running. Quang stood a few feet away shaking his head and looking very upset.

"Thanks, Mr. Quang, sorry we couldn't stay long," Ted said.

"You two are good men, but not Mr. Tony. You go now!"

Ted and Rick climbed into the jeep, and in a cloud of dust the four men headed for the gates. Once cleared of the gate, Tony told Jimmy to put his foot down, and the jeep picked up speed weaving in and out of traffic.

"Hey, Tony what have you gotten us into?" Rick demanded.

"I told you the deal went sour. Tran says I owe him money and he won't deliver the goods until I pay him what I owe. We started arguing, and that's when he threatened me. Tran's been dealing with both sides in this war. He's a scum bag who would sell his grandmother to the highest bidder."

Ted looked at Rick, shook his head and said, "Tony I don't know if you're telling us the whole truth, but I bet this little deal of yours had nothing to do with building supplies."

"Listen," shouted Tony. "The less you know the better."

"Yeah right and not knowing is probably going to get us thrown in the brig," Ted said.

"Guys, Tran's a known crook and black marketer; nobody is going to take his word over ours. Besides, in a few days, we'll be home and out of the Navy. So just cool it."

Rick just sat there feeling his anger rise wishing he had listened to his gut and stayed at camp. He looked over at Ted and suddenly realized they were still in their civilian clothes. "Hey Tony," said Rick. "We need to change into our fatigues before we get to camp."

"No sweat," said Tony. "I know a side road where we can pull off and change."

They rode in silence for a few minutes. Jimmy had slowed down because of the traffic, but finally worked his way out of the city and headed north to camp.

A few minutes later Jimmy glancing in the rearview mirror said: "Tony, that's Tran's Mercedes coming up behind us and he's flashing his lights."

The men turned around, sure enough, the big black Mercedes was roaring up the road flashing its headlights while Tran leaned out the window waving his fist.

"Jimmy," said Tony "take that side road leading to the rice paddies, the one where we met Tran last week.""Okay," said Jimmy.

Tony then turned around, smiled, and waved at Tran. Tran stuck his head back in the car, and the two vehicles drove about a quarter of a mile before the jeep slowed down and proceeded down what looked like a footpath. After a few hundred bumpy feet, they pulled up next to small barn located on the bank of the Han River.

"Okay, this won't take long, just stay here," said, Tony, as he got out of the jeep and walked back to where Tran stood waiting.

Afterward neither Ted nor Rick could remember who pulled their guns first. Suddenly shots rang out, and Tran and his driver lay on the ground twitching. Rick and Ted ran up to the bodies, which were now still.

"Tony is you crazy? You just shot and killed two men. We're really in trouble now," Rick shouted.

Tony looking down on the ground did not speak for a minute. "Did you hear me?" Rick grabbed Tony by the collar and said, "What the Hell are we going to do now?"

Tony shook himself free of Rick's grasp and turning to Jimmy yelled. "Jimmy, drive around to the back of the Merc then help me put the bodies in the car."

"Wait!" Rick yelled: "We got to let someone know what happened."

"No, I didn't mean to kill them, but they drew their guns, and it was either them or me. Besides, I should get a medal for killing the S.O.B's. They've been supplying the VC for years."

"Damn it, Marchesi, you knew this, and you still did business with them? You're no better than they are!" shouted Rick.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah if it makes you feel better you're right O'Neil. But now we have to get rid of the bodies and back to camp."

"And just how do you plan on doing that?" asked Ted.

"Jimmy and I will put the bodies in the car. Then we'll push it into the river. As dirty as this water is and with a muddy bottom, the Mercedes should sink out of sight. By the time anyone finds them, we'll be back in the good old USA and civilians again."

"You got it all figured out don't you Marchesi?" said Rick, "It's almost like you planned this."

"Just stay out of the way.We'll finish here, then drive down the road, stop and change into our fatigues. We should be back in camp by 1600 hundred. I need to know that you two will keep your mouths shut. If anyone finds out about this, we all will have a lot of explaining to do. You don't want to screw up your wedding plans do you?"

"You bastard," shouted Rick as he began walking towards Tony.

Ted reached out and grabbed his arm. "I hate to admit it, but the little creep is right. These guys were probably helping the VC. Besides what difference does it make now? No one is going to miss a couple of commie sympathizers. There's no way I'm messing up my future."

Rick's shoulders sagged. He looked at his friend and slowly shook his head as the two stood silently while Jimmy and Tony loaded the bodies into the Mercedes. Jimmy then got into the jeep and pushed the big car into the murky river. The car rolled down the bank and slipped into the water disappearing in a cloud of bubbles. After a few minutes, except for a few bubbles floating to the surface, it would be hard to tell a car with two bodies was sinking into the muddy bottom.

No one spoke the rest of the way back to camp. Once inside the men went back to their quarters. Rick and Ted grabbed towels and clean clothes and heading for the showers. For nearly thirty minutes, Rick just stood under the shower. Finally turning off the water and drying off he walked back to his bunk where he sat quietly. Ted sitting on his bed looked over at Rick, their eyes met, and Ted saw a deep sadness in Rick's eyes. Ted shrugged his shoulders, laid down on his bed and stared at the ceiling.

Their remaining days in Viet Nam went by in a blur of packing, stowing gear and cleaning the camp for their replacements. That plus the Seabees building excitement over returning home keep Ted and Rick too busy to dwell much on the killings. Jimmy and Tony were also busy filling out paperwork and taking inventory. Because of their separate duties, the men rarely saw each other. One time Rick passed Tony in the chow line. Tony gave him a smile and put his finger to his lips. Rick glared at him and turned away, his appetite gone.

Rick and Ted were sitting on a pile of sandbags enjoying a cold can of Coors and quietly celebrating their last night in 'Nam.' Ted looked up and saw Tony and Jimmy walking towards them.

"Hey, Rick here comes trouble."

Rick turned as Tony and Jimmy stopped in front of them. "What do you want Marchesi? I thought I told you to stay away from us. "

"Ah come on Rick old buddy, Jimmy, and I just wanted to say goodbye and good luck. Plus I got a little something for you guys; consider it my way of saying thanks." Reaching into his pocket, Tony pulled out two envelopes. He handed one to each of the men.

Rick opened his envelope, which contained five one hundred dollar bills. Ted opened his and let out a whistle. "There are five hundred dollars in here."

Rick looked at Ted then back at Tony who was standing there with a big grin on his face. "You think this makes up for all the trouble you caused? You think you can buy our silence. I told you I would keep my mouth shut and unlike you, I keep my word. Take your damn blood money. I hope you choke on it!" With that, Rick threw the envelope back at Tony. The envelope hit Marchesi in the chest and fell to the ground. Jimmy scooped the money up and handed it to Tony. Ted stood and gave the money back to Tony and sat back down.

"Okay you guys have it your way, just remember our agreement," Tony said.

"We said we would not tell anybody. Just promise us one thing, stay out of our lives. I never want to see your face or hear your big mouth ever again," spat Ted.

"Sorry you feel that way, my Dad and I are expanding our business down in Florida, and I thought you guys might need a job. Jimmy's already signed on, ain't that right Jimmy?"

"Yeah, I'm going be Tony's special assistant."

"You're crazy Jimmy," said Ted. "Working with Tony will get you thrown in the slammer."

"Come on Jimmy," said Tony. "These clowns aren't worth our time; we have people to see and money to make." With that Tony and Jimmy left Ted and Rick and heading to the EM club.

"You think anything will happen to us?" Ted asked.

"I don't know, but we'll be home and out of the service soon, so I guess we'll be okay."

"Hope you're right. Now let's get a few more beers. We'll be home soon, and then we can forget this Hell Hole," Ted said.

Rick shook his head. "I don't want any more beer. I'm hitting the rack and getting some sleep. I doubt if I'll ever be able to forget or forgive what happened here. I promised I would keep my mouth shut and as long as Tony stays out of my life, I'll keep my end of the bargain."

"See ya tomorrow Rick. And don't worry soon we'll be back home and in our girlfriends' arms."

"Nite Ted," was all Rick could say as he entered the hooch.

Chapter Seven

Back to the Real World

The semis hauling "cattle cars" filled with home bound Seabees pulled onto the tarmac. Coming to a stop the men needed no prodding from their officers as they spilled out of the trailers. These Seabees were a different group of troops from the nervous and scared young men who arrived at the Da Nang airport nine months earlier. The men casually standing by their sea bags were tan, fit and hardened from the grinding backbreaking work under the tropical sun. Unseen was the changes in their psychic.

These Seabees were leaving with the knowledge that they had survived not only the hard work and the sweltering heat but also countless mortars, rockets, and rifle fire. They had been tested in battle and found worthy.

Unlike their flight over in the huge Air Force C141, the trip home was a commercial passenger jet. The men had from time to time seen the signature yellow plane or the "Yellow Bird" as the TWA plane was called pass overhead on her approach to Da Nang airport. Now instead of wishing they were on it, the Seabees were boarding the plane and leaving the war behind.

The men eagerly climbed the stairs and walked into the jet. Their first pleasant surprise was a stewardess welcoming them aboard. The next was the cool air blowing from the jet's air conditioners and the third was another stewardess handing them a wet towel and taking their drink order.

"Now this is more like it," Ted said smiling as he settled into his seat and wrapped the towel around his neck. "A guy could get used to this kind of treatment."

"It's like we just stepped into another world," Rick said."The flight home will be a whole lot better than the ride to Nam."

Ted closed his eyes and said, "You know Rick that was the longest nine months of my life."

Rick said nothing, like Ted he closed his eyes as the "Big Yellow Bird" taxied down the runway and soared off away from Viet Nam and back to the "world".

The trip home followed the same route, but because the jet stream flowed west to east, the Boeing 707 touched down at Quonset Point Naval Air Station in Rhode Island just under twenty-two hours.

It was 10 am when they landed in Quonset Point Naval Air Station. A gangway was moved into place and Ted and Rick descended the stairway scanned the people standing about 100 yards away for any signs of their families or girlfriends. It was hard to pick out their loved ones from the hundreds of people waving and cheering as the "Bees" walked down the stairs and started crossing to the crowd. When they were a hundred feet away, some of the crowd began rushing forward. Suddenly Rick heard his name called and turning to the voice he saw Samantha, her blonde ponytail flying straight out behind her as she ran into his arms. Rick wrapped his arms around her and buried his face in her neck. Breathing in Samantha's sweet perfume, he gave her a long kiss.

"Oh Rick, I can't believe it's you! I waited so long and finally you're home."

"I can't believe it either Honey, seems a life time ago. But I'm here, and I'm never going to leave you again."

After hugs and kisses from his Mom and a hearty handshake from his Dad, they started walking back to the parking lot. They were almost to Dad's Plymouth station wagon when Rick heard Ted's booming voice. "Hey Rick wait a minute," Rick turned and saw Ted with his arms around a cute little red head heading towards them. "Rick this is Ann, Ann this is the big galoot who kept me from going crazy."

Ann looking up at Rick said, "Ted told me so much about you. I can't thank you enough for watching out for him."

"Well, we kind of looked out for each other." Rick said.

Ann laughed, "Listen I know Ted and left to himself there's no telling what kind of trouble he would have gotten into if it hadn't a been for you."

Rick looked at Ted, and Ted just raised his eyebrows.

"Rick," Ann said. "Ted and I would like you to be the best man at our wedding next month."

Rick paused, took a deep breath and said, "I'd be honored to be Ted's best man."

Ann stood on her tiptoes and gave Rick a kiss on the cheek. Turning to Samantha she said, "You're a lucky girl to have such a big handsome guy like Rick. I'm stuck with this funny looking guy, but I love him anyway."

"Hey, you'll just wait. You'll see how funny I can be," Ted said.

"Promises, promises" giggled Ann. "Will be sending invitations out soon, we'll see you both at the wedding."

As they walked away, Sam gave Rick's arm a squeeze. "God I'm so happy you're home. I love you so much, and I can't wait to begin our life together."

They walked a few steps in silence until Samantha stopped, spun around in front of Rick and said, "What's wrong Honey?"

Rick looked at her and said, "Nothing just a little jet lag I guess."

Sam gave Rick's hand a squeeze and said, "I'll make you forget all about Viet Nam."

Rick looked at her again and said, "I hope so Love. I really do."
Part Two: Demons and Friends

Chapter Eight

Old Friends

June 2012 North Conway, New Hampshire, Rick O'Neil was running along his favorite country road about half way through his five-mile run when he heard a car horn blaring. Pulling far over to the edge of the dirt road, he waved his hand signaling the car to pass, but instead of passing the car slowed down and continued honking. Rick muttering, turned around and glared at the driver. But instead of some impatient tourist, the driver was Ted Troutman.

"Damn it! I was about ready to throw a rock through your windshield!"

"Well if you did, I'd have to arrest you for assaulting an officer of the law with a deadly weapon," Ted laughed.

Rick walked to the car, leaned in the window and said, "Okay what's so urgent that it couldn't wait till I got home?"

"Oh nothing," said Ted still wearing a big grin. "Just wondering if you like to take a break and catch a late breakfast at Marge's."

"You know that doesn't sound like a bad idea," Rick said. "My knees are killing me." Rick opened the passenger door of Ted's sheriff car and slid into the seat.

Ted looked over and said, "Did you know that running will kill you?"

"Yeah if I get hit by some jerk like you." said Rick.

"No, I'm serious. A recent study found that all runners eventually die."

"I guess that's supposed to be funny."

"Well yeah," said Ted. "The problem with you is you're humor challenged."

"You got enough humor for both of us."

"Life is too short to take seriously," laughed Ted. Getting no response from Rick, Ted turned the cruiser around and headed back to Margie's for one of her famous "Lumberman's Specials."

Pulling into the parking lot, Ted came to a stop in front of the diner. Marge's had been a fixture in the Saco Valley for forty years. The original owner had named it after his wife and when the current owner, Sally Harper bought it ten years ago she decided to keep the name. Famous for belly busting breakfasts, it was a favorite gathering spot for the locals and a great place to catch up on the news and gossip.

Sally spotted them as soon as they walked into the restaurant. "Hey look what the cat dragged in, Sheriff Andy and Deputy Barney."

Ted walked over to the counter and looking Sally in the eye said, "You know my dear if anyone else had said that, they'd be sitting on the curb with plastic bracelets on."

"Ha! You can dish it out, but ya can't take it." Sally laughed.

"Oh I can take it, and I can dish it out."

"Hey, Sally can I have a cup of coffee before you and Ted come to blows," asked Rick.

Sally winked at Ted and said, "Looks like somebody's a little grumpy this morning."

"Yeah," said Ted. "I interrupted his daily jog."

"Still trying to stay ahead of those demons?" Sally asked.

"How about that coffee Sally?" said Rick as he turned and walked over to an open booth.

"Seems like he's in a real sour mood," said Sally.

"Well we got some bad news yesterday; a guy we served with in 'Nam' blew his brains out," explained Ted

"Oh, that's terrible! I heard how some of you old Vets were still fighting that damn war in their heads."

"Despite what you hear about 'Nam' Vets, not all of us are crazy, besides he had other problems," said Ted.

"Oh, well I am sorry," Sally said as she poured two mugs of coffee and headed towards the booth. "Here ya go big boy. Sorry about your friend's passing."

Rick looked up with sad eyes, took the mug and said, "Thanks, Sally."

"My pleasure and breakfast is on the house. It's national take a lawman to breakfast day".

"Really?" Ted said. "In that case, I'll have the Lumber Jack Special with extra hash browns."

"Just like you to take advantage of my good nature," said Sally "And what about you Rick, the usual?

"Yeah, I'll have two poached eggs with a slice of whole wheat toast."

"Okay buddy," said Ted. "I'm guessing it's Jimmy".

Rick slowly sipped some coffee, looked at Ted, sighed and said: "You know Ted after all these years I didn't think hearing about Jimmy's death would affect me this much. I mean, it isn't as if we were all that close. We hadn't heard from him in what, five years?"

"Sounds about right," said Ted. "If his sister hadn't found my address we would never have known what happened to him."

"I wonder if he was still messed up with Marchesi?" said Rick.

"Probably," said Ted. "That S.O.B had his claws deep into Jimmy. Starting back in 'Nam' he was Tony's gofer, and Jimmy has never known anything else."

"That war just won't leave us alone," said Rick.

"Listen Rick," said Ted. "I told you years ago we can't change what happened in 'Nam'. The best we can do is live our lives and try to make a difference."

"But have we, Ted? Seems like nothing has changed, years ago I thought I could save the world, but now I'm not even sure I can save myself."

"Don't beat yourself up, buddy," said Ted. "You spent thirty years teaching kids, coaching sports and even now volunteering for the Special Olympics. You have made a difference!"

"Nice of you to not include my divorce or the months I spent in rehab," Rick said.

"Look Rick you and Sam were made for each other. Ann and I still hope that one day you'll get back together. As far as your other problem, you had the courage to seek treatment. "

"Thanks, when I came back from 'Nam' I was messed up. I thought getting married would be the cure, and for a while, it was, but no one knows better than you do, how badly I screwed up my marriage. Sam took it as long as she could, but those demons wouldn't leave me alone. The deeper I got into drugs and alcohol the worse it got. Sam was only a kid back then full of innocence and in love with me. We long ago made peace with each other. I'm happy for her and the new life she has built."

"Well at least you're friends," said Ted.

"Yeah, we are. Now you and Ann have built a good life for yourselves. Thirty years with the state police and now a sheriff, that's a big deal"

"I guess, just think of all the doughnuts and coffee I've eaten," laughed Ted patting his stomach. "But seriously Rick, Jimmy made bad choices, nothing you or I could do would have changed things. Marchesi flashed a few dollars at him and gave Jimmy a little status. Jimmy never had the guts to walk away from Tony and just got deeper and deeper into drugs. The last time we heard from him he was coming out of rehab, no doubt from the drugs or alcohol that Marchesi provided."

"Anthony Marchesi made a career out of ruining people's lives," Rick said. "He's gone from a cheap punk to a powerful and respected member of the upper class. Sometimes I wish I hadn't promised to keep my mouth shut."

"Come on Rick, so okay Marchesi's a sleaze, but there's no evidence of anything illegal for the last twenty-five years or more, and even then it was all circumstantial evidence. If I remember his father's the one who did jail time."

"I know. Still, it really eats at me to think how much he has profited and never had to pay for what he did."

"Rick, you have to let this go. There's nothing to be gained by constantly dwelling on the past."

"Okay Ted, let's enjoy our breakfast," Sally brought their plates. Ted's was brimming over with eggs, bacon, sausage, home fries, and toast. With a smile, Ted picked up a fork and began eating as Rick slowly picked at his poached eggs.

After a few mouthfuls, Ted put down his fork and said, "You know Rick, Sally's sweet on you. Why don't you ask her out?"

"I'm not ready for a relationship. I like my freedom. Besides why would she want to get tangled up with someone as messed up as me?"

"Why because you're a great guy, loyal and considering your age, you can still walk on your own and you don't drool."

Rick cracked a smile at Ted's attempt to cheer him up and said, "If She's looking for a walking companion, she should get a dog."

Ted leaned back and laughed. The other people in the diner turned to see what was so funny and Sally wiping down the counter top shook her head. "See you even got a sense of humor when you try hard enough."

Rick just took a sip of coffee and stared out the window. The lighthearted moment had passed and he could feel himself slipping back into a dark place in his mind.
Chapter Nine

Death and Dishonor

Three days later, Ted was catching up on paperwork when Rick walked into his office and sat heavily in a chair, leaned over and tossed a couple of pages of yellow lined paper on the desk.

"What's this?" asked Ted.

"Came in the mail from Jimmy's sister," Rick replied.

Ted looked at Rick, sighed and picked up the sheets of paper. "Whoever wrote it must have skipped high school grammar class." Ted took a couple of minutes to read the letter. "Man," said Ted. "Jimmy lays it out doesn't he?"

"If what he says is true there's enough here to put our old buddy Tony Marchesi in the slammer and throw away the key. He has been dealing with drugs, prostitutes and selling weapons to banned countries. When this gets out his career is toast."

What's this about a lock box and a key?" Ted asked.

"According to his sister she has the key. The lock box is in one of those UPS stores in Miami. She wants to open it up and mail the contents to us. She says that Jimmy always talked about us and wanted us to have this if he died. She just wants to make sure we want it. She's sounded pretty scared and said if we didn't want it she would burn everything."

"Rick do we want to get involved, Tony is wealthy and powerful, and his son is planning a run for Congress. Besides this could open up all that happened back in Vietnam."

"I know, I know, but I think we owe it to Jimmy to at least take a look at what he has in that lockbox," said Rick. "Taking it off his sister's hands will keep her out of it. After we have the information, we can decide what to do, burn it or go public."

"Ok," said Ted. "Have her send it to my house not the Sheriff's Office."

"Will do," said Rick.

It was dark by the time Rick got to Ted's house. Rick knocked and Ted opened the door. "Come on in," said Ted. "But watch out for Ann, she is on the warpath."

"The warpath?" asked Rick.

"Yeah, she's not very happy about us digging up old bones."

Ted and Rick walked down the hall and into Ted's den.

Ted looked up from the pile of papers in front of him. "There's enough here to send Marchesi to prison for a long, long time. Tony is involved in so many illegal operations; it'll take a grand jury, years to sort it all out.

If this information goes public, it'll take down a lot of powerful people and ruin any chance Tony Junior has of running for Congress."

Rick looked at the reams of documents scattered across Ted's desk. There were computer printouts, notepaper crammed with Jimmy's handwriting, two account ledgers and a three-ring binder. "Man look at this stuff. Do you think Marchesi is searching looking for these papers?" asked Rick.

"I'm sure he is. After you left the other day I put some feelers out and apparently Tony's hot about something. Publicly he is claiming he someone stole important business documents. He is offering a ten thousand dollar reward for their return. Privately he's threatening to kill whoever took his stuff."

"So what are we going to do?"

"Well, first I'm having another shot of Wild Turkey. Then you and I are going to go over this with a fine toothcomb. We'll scan it into my laptop, make copies of everything and put the originals in my safety deposit box."

Just then Ann walked into the room, putting her hands on her hips she said, "Don't, I get a say?"

Ted had long ago told his wife what happened in Vietnam. After an initial shock and expression of anger, she had never said another word to Ted about the murder. Now she saw all they had built over the years crashing down around them, and she was scared.

"Of course you do. Honey, however this is bigger than you and I. This isn't something we can shove under the rug. Some of the stuff Tony Marchesi is involved in threatens national security."

Ann looked at Ted and said, "If what you say is true, then my dear you two are in over your head. This isn't just a break in at a vacation condo. You should turn this information over to the FBI and go back to arresting drunks!"

"Ann," said Rick. "We don't know what we're going to do."

"Oh, I know you two. Ted's pretty steamed and when he gets his teeth into something he doesn't let go," said Ann.

Ted just looked at Ann, shrugged his shoulders and replied, "I think we owe it to Jimmy to at least look at what he sent us."

"Ted, I'll always stand by you, but we're not young anymore. If Marchesi sues us, the legal fees will drain us financially. Besides from what you've told me about Tony, he's the type who will do whatever it takes to protect himself."

"That's true, but we can't ignore this. If we do Marchesi will continue his illegal operations and many innocent people will be harmed."

"Listen, you two," said Rick. "Jimmy's sister sent the package to me, so I'm the one who decides what to do with it and who will be involved. Besides, I have the least to lose. You two have made a good life for yourself. You have great kids and four grandchildren. Me, I got a beat up old Jeep, my dog, and a teacher's pension."

"Rick, we're all in this together."

Rick reached over, took the papers out of Ted's hands and gathering up the rest of the documents, shoving them back into the FedEx package.

"No Ted, this is my responsibility, for forty years this has been eating at me, and now I'm ready to face my demons and to Hell with the consequences!"

With that, Rick walked back through the house and out the front door.

Ann turned to face Ted, "Honey, I'm sorry, I didn't realize Rick was so upset. You have got to do something."

"I know I'll see him tomorrow, maybe he'll be ready to listen by then."

"I sure hope so Ted."

Rick awoke to a splitting headache and the smell of coffee and bacon. "What the heck?" said Rick as he rolled out of bed and headed for the kitchen.

Standing by the stove stirring the bacon with a fork was Ted. Turning Ted looked at Rick and said, "Morning sunshine, sunny side up or scrambled?"

Rick shook his head and said, "I knew I should of changed where I hid the spare key."

Ted laughed, "Spare key? I'm a law enforcement officer; I don't need no spare key."

Rick sat down at the table, put his head in his hands and said, "If you weren't my best friend, I'd shoot you for breaking and entering."

"Gee are you trying to be funny?" said Ted.

"No, I'm trying to keep my head from exploding. After I left your house, I came home, and I and Jim Beam stayed up till 3 AM discussing what a pain in the neck you are."

"See? You are trying to be funny. Keep it up, and you might get a spot on the Tonight Show."

Rick looked up at Ted, gave him half a grin saying, "So I'm guessing that you breaking into my house and making breakfast, has something to do with Jimmy's package."

"Ann and I talked about it and the way we see it, you could simply send this anonymously to the Miami Herald. That way nobody gets hurt, except Marchesi. Besides this isn't about what happened in Nam. This is about his corrupt and criminal operations now."

"No Ted, like I said last night, it's time for me to face my demons and come clean. What happened in 'Nam' has a direct bearing on all this. We should of never have agreed to this deception. Everything about our relationship with him, the murder, illegal drugs and other contraband he smuggled home has eaten at me for years. Besides, I think that's what Jimmy wanted otherwise he could have gone to the papers."

"If you open up about Vietnam, you'll expose all of us," said Ted. "We have no proof. It'll be his word against ours. Concentrate on what Jimmy sent you, there's no denying the journals, names, dates and bank accounts; that's enough to bring him to justice."

"I'll tell you what Ted. I'll go along with your advice. But I reserve the right to keep our little secret up my sleeve ready to use if all else fails."

"Fair enough," sighed Ted. "Just remember I've always got your back. Now eat your breakfast before it gets cold."

It was about 7 PM three days after Ted and Rick's breakfast talk when Rick stopped again at Ted's house. Ted opened the door as his wife wearing an apron walked in from the kitchen.

"You're a little late for supper, but I can warm you up a dish of ham and scalloped potatoes," said Ann.

"Thanks, but I had something before I left the house."

"Probably something out of a can," Ann huffed. "Well at least have a cup of coffee and some pie."

"I always have room for your pie Ann," said Rick.

"Hey how about me?" said Ted.

"You've had more than enough, Chubby. If you spent half the time working out as Rick does instead of sitting on your brains in that patrol car, maybe I'd give you another piece." Ann laughed as she handed Rick a slice of pie. "I'll leave you guys alone, see ya later Rick."

"Thanks for the pie and I'll make sure old Chubby here doesn't help himself to anymore."

Ann laughed again as she walked out of the room. Both men looked at her as she walked away.

"You're a lucky guy finding someone like Ann who's willing to put up with you."

"Ya, she's one in a million," agreed Ted.

Rick sat down, took a bite of the pie, and placed the plate on the coffee table. "I did a bit of online research and found a reporter by the name of Michael Watkins. He has been an investigative reporter for the Herald for several years and has broken some big corruption stories. He also has a history of dogging our good buddy Tony Marchesi. It seems this Watkins has been a thorn in Tony's side ever since he exposed a deal Tony made with some local councilman."

"Deal?" asked Ted.

"Yeah," explained Rick. "A couple of years ago Tony's company was trying to put a mall up and was running into local opposition because the area was zoned residential. The council was divided on the issue, and some people living near the proposed mall signed petitions and created quite a scene at a few public meetings. It looked like Tony would have to go elsewhere to build his mall. At the last minute, two of the council members who were against the mall switched their support and voted for it. This reporter Watkins had been following the proceedings and suspected something. He snooped around and found both council members recently went on a chartered fishing trip to the Bahamas. In addition, they were given season tickets to the Dolphins. Watkins connected the dots and found that both the trip and the tickets were paid for by one of Marchesi's companies.

A vice president took the fall for Tony, claiming he was a little overzealous and that Tony knew nothing about it. Publicly Tony expressed outrage and fired the VP who got a nice severance package and popped up three months later as a managing director for a construction company that has close ties to Marchesi. The councilmen resigned, and both landed up in cushy jobs. Watkins spent months trying to get evidence on Tony, but in the end, the story died. Tony's mall is being built as we speak."

"I guess Michael Watkins would like nothing more than to nail Tony's hide to a wall and get a Pulitzer in the process. He's even started a three part series on Tony's son and his campaign for Congress."

"I take it the series on little Tony Junior wouldn't be very complementary," said Ted.

"Oh you could say that," said Rick. "Watkins has done his homework and is putting it to Tony's son. From his early skirmishes with the law to his grandfather's and father's dubious past, Watkins isn't pulling any punches."

"Sounds like our man," said Ted.

"I sent him an email yesterday around 10 AM, and the guy called me before noon. I didn't go into any details with him. We set up a conference call for tomorrow at 9 AM, and I'd like you to be there.""I thought you didn't want me involved?" said Ted.

"I don't, just sit there and pass me notes if you think of anything. I'd just feel better if I had another set of ears."

"Okay Pal, but what's this about a conference call? Who else will be on the line?" asked Ted.

"As I understand it, it'll be just Watkins and his editor, a guy by the name of Richard Jewels."

"Ok," agreed Ted. "Nine tomorrow morning at your place, I'll be there with donuts, you make the coffee."

"Thanks," was all Rick said as he got up from the table, opened the back door and headed for his Jeep.

Chapter Ten

The Gathering Storm

Rick was pouring a cup of coffee when Ted walked into the kitchen carrying a bag of Dunkin' Donuts. "Don't you ever knock?"

"Knock? If I knocked every time, I entered a perp's house I'd never make an arrest."

"Oh so now I'm a criminal?"

"Everyone's a suspect until I decide differently," Ted said.

"What happened to innocent until proven guilty?"

"I see you been studying the Constitution again. A little knowledge can be a dangerous thing you know."

"With you as sheriff, I figure I better know my rights."

"You seem pretty calm for somebody who's about to unleash a hurricane."

"You know it's funny," said Rick. "But I slept like a baby last night and woke up feeling better than I've felt in years."

Rick's phone started ringing and as he walked over to his desk, Ted moved his chair closer so he could hear the conversation. Rick picked up the phone, listened for a few seconds, and said: "Good morning Michael and good morning Mr. Jewells, I also have someone here, he's a friend who has a background in law enforcement and who knows Tony Marchesi, for personal reasons I won't introduce him but I trust him with my life. Ok, I'll switch over to speakerphone."

Rick hit the speaker button, and a gravelly voice said, "Let's get a couple of things clear up front." The voice belonged to Richard Jewells, Editor of the Miami Herald. "My paper will need to verify whatever you say today."

"I understand," said Rick. "I have the documents and evidence to back up everything and to put Tony Marchesi away for a long time."

"This is Michael Watkins, Mr. O'Neil. We'll need copies of everything you have."

"I've scanned all the information and will email it to you as soon as we end our conversation," replied Rick.

"Ok," said the reporter. "Let's start at the beginning. How do you know Marchesi and how did you come by this information?"

The phone call lasted about an hour; it concluded with Watkins and Jewells both emphasizing that all information would be gone over with a fine toothcomb and properly vetted.

"We have long suspected Tony Marchesi's involvement in all kinds of illegal activities, but have been unable to make anything stick," said Jewells. "If this checks out, it'll blow the lid off of his operations and kill any chance his son has of a political career. We'll also turn this, and any other information we uncover over to the Florida's Attorney General and I'm sure the feds would also be very interested."

"Just remember your promise to keep your source a secret," said Rick.

"No worries Mr. O'Neil, the Herald has a long reputation of protecting its sources. We been threatened with jail and worse, but have never violated the trust our informers have placed in us. We'll be in touch."

With that, both parties said good-bye and hung up.

Ted leaning back in his chair looked at Rick and sighed, "Well that'll stir up the hornet's nest. There's no going back now; I just hope these guys keep their word."

"I trust them," Rick said. "Besides, if they do reveal me as their source at least you're safe."

Two days later, and Rick was stepping out of the shower when his cell phone rang. The screen showed it was Michael Watkins. Dripping wet he picked up the phone. "Hi Michael, I just got out of the shower. Give me five minutes, and I'll call you back."

"Okay," said Michael and click off. Rick quickly toweled off and put on his favorite faded jeans and a t-shirt. Walking into the kitchen, he poured himself a cup of coffee, settled down in a chair and punched in Watkins number.

"Hey, Michael what's up?"

"I wanted to let you know that we're going ahead with the story on Marchesi. We have done a quick check on the material you sent and it all checks out. The information fills in a lot of holes in our own investigation."

Rick could sense the excitement in the reporter's voice. "When do you intend to publish the story?" asked Rick.

"We've decided to run a three part series starting this Sunday. We have sent copies of the documents to Nancy Randolph, the State's Attorney General and to the regional FBI office. Both wanted us to wait, but my editor Richard Jewells told them he was going with the story on Sunday. They are not too happy with the paper's decision, but Richard was adamant, privately He and I want to get the story out there before some of Marchesi's high ranking buddies get wind of this and try to squelch it."

"What do you think Marchesi will do?"

"Oh, The Herald is already in full combat mode," said Watkins.

"Our board of directors and our lawyers has already been briefed. We expect Tony Marchesi to go after us with both guns blazing. Publicly, he and his lawyers will deny any wrongdoing they will claim this is just another one of The Herald's witch-hunts. Privately he'll pull out all the stops using his business and political connections to pressure us for a retraction."

"Marchesi have a lot of pull, and a lot of influential people are in his camp. This will be a Battle Royal. I'll send you a copy of the Sunday paper, and you can also go to our website anytime after midnight on Saturday to view the article," explained Watkins.

"Thanks," said Rick, "I'm looking forward to the reaction."Michael Watkins laughed, "I'm sure you will hear the explosion even way up in New Hampshire. I'll keep you informed."

"Thanks again," said Rick as he hung up the phone.

Leaning back in the chair Rick let out a long sigh. "Well, Jimmy this is for you buddy. Sorry I didn't do anything back then to help you. We were all so young and dumb and never thought about the consequences."

Rick heaved himself out of the chair, drained the last of his coffee, grabbed his jacket and headed out the door. Twenty minutes later Rick walked into Ted's office.

Looking up Ted smiled and said, "Well cowboy you look pleased with yourself. What did you do, win a few bucks on a lottery ticket?"

"Better than that, I just got off the phone with Michael Watkins at the Herald, and they're running the story this Sunday."

"Wow that was fast," exclaimed Ted.

"Yeah, apparently what we sent filled in some gaps in their investigation and because they now have original documents in Tony's handwriting they're ready to nail Marchesi to the wall."

"Sounds good to me, it's about time he got what's coming to him," said Ted.
Chapter Eleven

Hurricane

Anthony Marchesi awoke with his cell phone ringing and vibrating. He looked at his clock 7 AM. Only a few close associates had his private number, and only two or three would have the nerve to call him this early. Reaching over he looked at the display. It was his son, Tony Jr, Marchesi punched the button and growled. "This had better be good Junior. I'm in no mood for an idle chit chat."

"Well, your mood won't be getting any better," said his son.

"What's the problem now? Some clown forgot to turn the lights off at the office?"

"Dad, this is serious. Obviously, you've haven't read this morning's Herald."

"I don't read that rag!" snapped Marchesi.

"Oh, you'll want to read it this morning," said Tony Jr. "I'm on my way over now. Have Jackie make some coffee and bring a bottle of Elijah Craig; you're going to need a little of your favorite bourbon." "Now you're giving me orders?" said Marchesi. "This had better be damn important."

"It's more than important Dad. It's a matter of life or death!"

With that, his son hung up leaving Marchesi wondering what could be so urgent. His son usually spent the weekends at the beach house with some young thing. Usually, Anthony did not see him until Tuesday or Wednesday and then only if it was something that needed Anthony's attention. Anthony Marchesi climbed out of bed, grabbed his robe and opened the door.

"Jackie, please bring coffee and bourbon up to my office in fifteen minutes, and make up some scrambled eggs and bacon. Junior will be here shortly, and I don't want us disturbed."

"Will do Mr. Marchesi," Jackie replied.

Anthony walked into the bathroom, turned on the shower and stepped inside.

Shortly after 7:20 AM, the elder Marchesi walked into his private office. His son was standing looking out the window with a mug of coffee in his hand.

Tony or Junior as the family called him looked every bit the son of a wealthy and powerful father. Fortunately, his son had only inherited his father's dark hair. The rest came from his mother's side of the family. Where Anthony Marchesi was short with a dark, menacing face, his son was just a hair under six feet with broad shoulders, dark hair and movie star looks. However, underneath, Tony Jr. had his father's hair trigger temper and cold-blooded attitude towards anyone who could not or would not agree with him. Unlike Anthony, Junior had gone to the best schools. He was not the best of students, but he did okay. Thanks to a few dollars, his Dad had given to the school for a new baseball field. Most of the time Tony ran his Dad's investment banking business, but lately, he had been devoting more time to planning his upcoming run for Congress.

Although Anthony Marchesi would never acknowledge it, he was proud of his son and even more proud of the business empire he had built. Rising from a street punk, Marchesi had parleyed his smalltime racketeering into a legitimate business operation. Only a few close advisors knew Marchesi had built his fortune on drugs, prostitutes, and illegal weapon sales. Even fewer were aware that although he was no longer pushing drugs or girls his gun running business was alive and well.

"I called Charlie," Dad. "He should be here by eight."

Charles (The Shark) Rossi was Anthony Marchesi's best friend from his days on the street. The two of them have gone from shaking down kids for lunch money to shaking down businesses for "protection" insurance. Along the way, Rossi had somehow managed to get a law degree. As a lawyer, he was utterly ruthless, hence the nickname The Shark.

As Marchesi's best friend and legal confidant, Charlie was involved in all of Anthony's businesses legal and illegal. Several times over the years, Rossi had kept Tony Sr. out of jail and out of the papers.

"I'm sure he was upset that you messed up his golf date," said Marchesi. "Now what's so important that you had to wake me up early and drag Charlie from the golf course?"

Tony Jr. pointed to the coffee table where Jackie had put a pot of coffee and the bourbon. Next to Marchesi's coffee mug was the Miami Herald with a picture of Anthony and his son leaving the courthouse after one of their many legal proceedings. The headline above the picture read, "Anthony and Tony Marchesi: The Truth at Last."

"What the..." Marchesi grabbed the paper, scanned the article and threw the paper across the room. The pages flutter to the floor as Jackie, the housekeeper came in with breakfast.

"Oh dear," she said as she put down the tray and began picking up the paper.

Marchesi stood silently, his right hand shaking, and his face turning a red then purple. "Jackie just leave the paper and please bring up one more plate of eggs; we're expecting Mr. Rossi any minute."

"Yes, sir," Jackie said as she quickly walked from the room.

Anthony Marchesi sat down heavily on the leather couch, reached for the coffee pot and filled his mug about halfway. Then he picked up the bottle of Elijah Craig and started pouring the whiskey into the mug, only stopping when the whiskey overflowed onto the tray. Anthony picked up the mug and took a long drink looking up at his son.

"I'm going to kill Watkins and that little rat editor of his; then I'm going to sue this piece of crap of a newspaper. I will break them and reduce them to toilet paper if it is the last thing I do! Didn't they learn their lesson the last time they tried to print a story about me and that Columbian drug king, what's his name?"

"His name's Escobar," said Tony Jr.

"Yeah, whatever, the only thing the idiots caught me with was a few boxes of Cubans.We planted a box of Havana's best in Jewell's desk and left a few stubs in his Caddy, and the story quietly died. This time he will get more than a few burnout stooges. I might just put him in a leaky row boat heading for Cuba where he can get his own cigars."

Marchesi laughed at the mental picture of Richard Jewells tied down with a cigar stuck in his mouth while the boat slowly sank into the sea.

The laughing stopped as Charlie Rossi walked into the room, dressed in his yellow golf shirt and white pants. "Is this, you guys idea of a joke? I was just about to tee off when Junior here tells me to drop everything and get over here ASAP. I thought maybe you had a heart attack."

"Read this," said Marchesi. "Then tell me how we're going to put the Herald out of business."

Rossi sitting across from Anthony picked up the paper and began reading. After about ten minutes he put the paper down, poured himself some coffee, taking a sip he looked at Marchesi and his son, let out a sigh and said: "This is pretty serious. After the last time, they would not dare print anything unless they had some hard evidence, especially if they are going to write a three part series. My guess is someone in your organization has turned stool pigeon."

Marchesi glared first at Rossi and then his son. "Find the rat and bring him to me, he'll wish he had never been born."

Rossi using Marchesi's childhood name said: "Look Antonio, the days when we could quietly eliminate our enemies is over. You have too much at stake, what with your wealth and Junior's plans for Congress. We have to deal with this publicly, and aboveboard. That's the only way to cut the Herald off at the knees and preserve your son's chance for a seat in Washington."

"He's right Dad," said Tony.

"I know he's right, and we'll do just that, but nobody ever betrays me and walks away. I will find out who gave this garbage to the paper and I will deal with him. You two won't have to dirty your hands," Marchesi said.

They spent the next hour planning their response. Rossi, as usual, would be their spokesperson, putting together a press release and beginning the process of filing suit against the paper. Marchesi would contact his old friend Judge Amos Blackburn and get him to file an injunction stopping the paper from publishing any more stories. Junior was told to keep a low profile by taking the Lear to the Bahamas and visiting one of their legit businesses, the five star-rated resort Maria's Cove, named after Marchesi's mother.

By the time the meeting was over, Anthony Marchesi's rage had settled down to a slow burn. They had been through this before and always came out on top. Marchesi was sure he and Junior would come out smelling like roses, but just to make sure he authorized a $250,000 donation to the local hospital's new cancer unit. A quick call to his longtime friend Mario Colombo, a member of the hospital's board and the chairperson of the fund drive ensured, Marchesi that he would get a lot of positive press and a photo op of Anthony presenting the check to the hospital.

That left one more piece of business: finding out who in Marchesi's organization gave the information to the paper and exactly what did Watkins and Jewells have that was so incriminating. There was only one man Marchesi trusted to do this job, and that was Gino Pizzuto. Gino was the grandson of Antonio Alessio. Old man Alessio had raised him after Gino's parents died in a car crash. Gino grew up tough and smart. Marchesi had used him before when there was some business to take care of that did not exactly follow standard business practices. Gino was efficient and deadly.
Chapter Twelve

The Gunny Knows Best

It had been three days since the Miami Herald's expose'. The article created a flurry of interest in Florida and even got fifteen seconds on the Today Show. Any interest in the story, at least on a national level quickly died out. Rick had felt a sense of excitement and satisfaction when the story broke. But after the press releases, statements from Marchesi's lawyer, and the picture online of Anthony Marchesi presenting a quarter of a million dollars to Miami's new cancer clinic, Rick was beginning to feel that Marchesi might get away with it.

After his run, Rick headed to Marge's for breakfast hoping to catch Ted. As Rick drove the Jeep into the diner's parking lot, he saw Ted's Sheriff's car parked next to the steps. "Leave it to Ted not to walk any farther than he has too," Rick thought.

For years both Rick and Ted's wife Ann had been trying to get Ted to exercise, but except for joining the health club every January and maybe even going to the club three or four times, Ted avoided exercise like the plague. He still had the strength of a bear from all those years working on his Dad's farm and five years as a lumberjack up in Canada before settling down into police work. Despite all his nasty habits, his blood pressure was low as was his cholesterol. Besides, old Doc Simmons always gave him a clean bill of health.

"Sometimes life isn't fair," thought Rick as he walked into the diner. "Here I exercise, watch my diet and still have high cholesterol and an enlarged prostrate."

Ted was sitting in his usual booth. He looked up as Rick slid into the booth. "Hey, Sally look what the cat dragged in. Better bring some of that jet fuel you call coffee and leave the pot." Turning to Rick Ted said, "Okay, partner why so down in the dumps? I thought you'd still be on a high after Sunday's big news story."

"I don't know Ted; it's just a sinking feeling that Marchesi is going to get away with murder again. With all his money and influence, he is a hard guy to pin anything on. Did you know he just donated a quarter of a million dollars to a local hospital?"

"Wow, a quarter of a million? And I feel good when I slip five bucks into the red kettle at Christmas," said Ted.

"Yeah, well it's pretty obvious Marchesi is playing all the angles. By the time his lawyers and PR people are finished the people of Florida will be canonizing him, and his son will be a congressman," said Rick.

"But look at it this way," said Ted. "If that article hadn't run in the paper that hospital wouldn't have gotten a dime from him."

"Always looking on the bright side, aren't ya?" said Rick.

"Hey buddy, like I always say; Life's too short to take seriously." Ted looked up as Sally brought over a pot of coffee, two poached eggs and a slice of unbuttered toast.

Rick looked at Sally, smiled slightly and said, "Thanks, Sally."

"My pleasure Rick," Sally turned, winked at Ted and walked over to the next table.

"This is what I mean buddy. Look at your plate, you always order the same thing: poached eggs and dry toast. What kind of a breakfast is that? You ought to try this Philly Cheese Steak Omelet," said Ted.

"Hmm if I ate that my cholesterol would jump fifty points," said Rick.

"Ah you got to live a little Rick," laughed Ted patting his tummy.

Then nodding his head towards Sally, he gave Rick a wink.

Rick ignored Ted's wink and began eating. Ted shrugging his shoulders said, "Hey I got an idea. What say we go down to Manchester and visit The Gunny? It's been about two months since our last visit, and I don't want Gunny charging us with AWOL."

"That's not a bad idea," said Rick. "I'm free on Saturday."

"Great, we can take Gunny to The Wild Rover for some Guinness and their famous Bangers and Mash, and you can have a Millers Lite and a salad."

"Sounds like a plan," said Rick.

Gunny was Gunnery Sergeant Timothy James O'Brien; United States Marine Corps retired and a living example of the saying "Once a Marine always a Marine." A veteran of Korea and Vietnam, Gunny had received a Purple Heart at Chosin Reservoir and Bronze and two more Purple Hearts at Khe Shan. Now at eight-four years young, he lived in an independent retirement community. Although the years were starting to catch up with him, he was still physically fit and mentally sharp. He had been a mentor and friend of Ted, Rick and a number of returning Vietnam Veterans. It was during the 1970's that The Gunny served as a volunteer with the Veterans Administration, consoling young veterans coping with the horrors of war. Before Post Traumatic Stress Syndrome was recognized and treated, Gunny along with a few others had pushed hard for better care for these men. Rick especially believed that if not for The Gunny, Rick would have gotten caught up in the downward spiral of alcohol, drugs, and suicide that claim the lives of too many veterans.

Gunny Sergeant O'Brien and his wife, Barbara, who died several years ago only had one child, a daughter and for some reason Rick and Ted never really understood, had taken a liking to the two men. Maybe as Ted said, "We were a pitiful couple of guys, kind of like two lost puppies that you pull from the river."

Both men adored Gunny and his wife and over the years had stayed in touch. Ted and Rick were always visiting the farm helping Gunny with chores and repairs. It was Rick and Ted that helped their daughter Sara with her mother's funeral arrangements. They also had finally convinced Gunny to sell the farm and move to the retirement village. To Gunny, Ted and Rick had become the sons he never had. Other than their wives, Gunny was the only other person who knew about Ted and Rick's involvement in killing the Vietnamese black marketer.

Ted drove as Rick slowly sipped his coffee. "Are you going to tell Gunny about Jimmy and the info he sent us?" asked Ted.

"Yeah, I'd like to get his take on it," said Rick.

Ted looked over at Rick and said, "You remember years ago Gunny wanted you to come clean on the killing?"

"Oh I remember, he thought it would help me with my PSTD and he probably was right, but I wasn't ready then, and I was afraid of the effect it would have on us and our future. You were just beginning your job as a cop, and I was planning on becoming a teacher."

"Yeah and now you have nothing to lose," replied Ted.

Rick drained the last of his coffee, crushed the cup and stuffed it in Ted's litterbag. After a moment, he said, "Looking back, if we had come forward maybe Jimmy would still be alive and Marchesi would be in prison. I guess when you come right down to it I'm a coward."

"Look pal, we both made a decision, and we both have had to live with the consequences. I don't know, and neither do you if coming forward would have saved Jimmy or put Marchesi in prison. The important thing is now we have enough evidence to hang the S.O.B."

"I sure hope so," said Rick. "But back then Tony was just a petty crook, now he's rich and powerful with lots of influential friends. Marchesi can hire the best defense lawyers in the business. I wouldn't be surprised if he gets off with a slap on the wrist."

"We can't change the past. All we can do is move forward. Whether or not Marchesi goes to jail will be up to a jury, not us."

"I know Ted, but it's hard to shake this bad feeling I have. "

"Well, Rick like they say: "Let go and let God,"

Rick grinned slightly, "Oh now you're getting religion?"

"Never lost it pal, just cause a guy would rather be fishing on Sunday than in church doesn't mean I don't believe in divine intervention."

"Well, there's hope for you yet," Rick said as they drove into the Merrimack Retirement Village.

Ted parked in the visitors parking area, and he and Rick walked to Gunny's apartment. Merrimack Retirement Village located a few miles north of Manchester, New Hampshire just off Route 93, contained one hundred and twenty-five one and two bedroom apartments overlooking the Merrimack River. Beautifully landscaped grounds surrounded villages with trees, plants, and flowers native to New England. Ted and Rick had taken Gunny and his wife to several such retirement communities before settling on Merrimack.

Gunny liked it because when they first visited the village, he saw two apartments with the Marine flag hanging out front.

Ted rang the doorbell. "Come on in boys!" Gunny bellowed.

Ted and Rick walked into the apartment. Gunny's apartment consisted of a small entry area, living room, one bedroom and a kitchen. The place was as neat as a pin. Along one wall were shelves lined with mementos from Gunny's thirty years in the Corps. Ted had joked that the wall was in danger of collapsing and Gunny might want to consider reinforcing it. Underneath the shelves was a triple dresser, which Gunny had turned into a liquor and gun cabinet. Gunny kept a couple of bottles of his favorite bourbon top drawer and his service 45 stored in the bottom drawer with a separate lock. Rick and Ted also knew that in the bedroom closet was a twelve-gauge pump shot gun.

When Ted asked him, what he was afraid of Gunny looked him straight in the eye and growled, "Nothing Son, absolutely nothing." Gunny had his back to the men as they walked into the kitchen. From the back, he looked like a man much younger than his eighty-four years. Standing five foot ten inches and weighing a hundred and eighty-five pounds, Gunny had not gained an ounce of fat since his days in the Marines. His physical bearing plus his baldhead and squinted eye stare made him an imposing figure.

Turning as Ted and Rick walked into the kitchen, Gunny raised the coffee pot and said, "Pull up a chair boys. I just made a fresh pot, and there are donuts from the bakery fresh this morning." Then looking at Rick, he said, "Are you still denying yourself one of life's little pleasures are you, O'Neil? The Bakery makes the best donuts this side of the Merrimack; try their maple glaze."

"You're the one that got me into running Gunny," said Rick. "Remember you're the one who said it would help me stay one step ahead of my demons."

"O'Neil, eat the donuts and shut up," growled Gunny. "Didn't I also tell you everything in moderation?"

"Ok Gunny just for you," laughed Rick.

Turning to Ted, Gunny said, "As for you Troutman you need a donut like I need a haircut."

"You're right there Gunny, in fact, I wish you'd move away from the window, the reflection off that bald dome of yours is blinding me."

At Ted's remark, the Gunny started laughing so hard he had to set the coffee pot down on the table to prevent spilling it. "It's good to see you boys, even if I don't get any respect from you two pups."

"Good to see you too," said Rick.

Gunny filled two mugs with coffee from the old battered metal percolator. "When are you going to get a new coffee maker?" said Ted. "That one's so old all you have to do is pour hot water into it."

"Listen, wise guy; this old pot has given me faithful service for more than forty years. Those newfangled coffee pots don't make coffee any better than mine does and besides, there's nothing better than a cup of Joe hot and black from a real coffee pot."

"Okay, I guess that settles that," said Ted.

"I hope so," said Gunny. "You've been here all of two minutes, and you have managed to insult my head and my coffee. If that's all you came here for Troutman, you can take a hike while Rick and I have an intelligent conversation."

Ted smiled at Rick and said, "Sorry Gunny, I'll try to be good."

Gunny grunted and turned to Rick. "Okay Rick let's have that intelligent conversation, but use one syllable words so bonehead here can follow along."

"Well Gunny, first off Ted and I had some time off, so we thought why not drive down and take you to The Wild Rover for lunch."

"Now we're taking," said Gunny. "But what's it's going to cost me?"

"Cost you?" Rick asked. "It won't cost you a thing, Ted and I will pick up the tab."

"That's not what I meant," said Gunny. "You two haven't been down in a couple of months. Yesterday you called and said how you wanted to pick my brain, buying me lunch is just a ruse, and you know it."

"You could always see right through us," said Rick. "Something from our past has reared its ugly head, and we wanted to get your take on it."

"One of your demons still haunting you?" asked Gunny.

"You could say that," said Rick.

"Hold on a minute while I get a bottle of Beam, sounds like we might need something to strengthen this coffee."

Gunny walked into the living room, opened up the cabinet and took out a half-empty bottle of Jim Beam Black. Pouring a shot into each mug of coffee, Gunny sat down, took a sip and said, "Okay, boys let's hear your sad sack story."

For the next thirty minutes, Gunny sat silently while Rick and Ted told him about Jimmy's suicide, the packet of information he sent them and the story published in the Miami Herald. When they finished Gunny leaned back and looked at both men, then he stood up and walked over to the window.

Gunny looked out the window and said, "You know at first I didn't like it here. I missed Barbara, the farm and the life we had, but then I realized this was like a new beginning and whatever time I had left should be spent enjoying myself and not crying in my coffee."

Turning from the window, he said, "Rick you now have a chance at a new beginning, wiping the slate clean and finally putting your past behind you. If you want me to say you did the right thing, the answer is yes. What took you so long?"

"I know Gunny," said Rick. "I should have listened to you forty years ago, and maybe Jimmy would still be alive."

"Look," said Gunny, "You don't know that, and from what you've told me about Jimmy he was headed down a dead end road anyways. The important thing is you're doing the right thing now."

"I still like Marchesi to pay for what he did in 'Nam,' but it would only be his word against mine."

"Yeah, but it would mean exposing yourself. This way the Herald and that reporter are taking on Marchesi for you. Best to leave sleeping dogs lie," Gunny said, "Now how about lunch?"

The Wild Rover Pub in downtown Manchester was as close to a real Irish pub as one could find this side of the "Pond." From its century old oak floors and brick walls, the pub oozed old world charm. The men enjoyed a leisurely meal. Between mouthfuls of sausage and mashed potatoes, they talked about current events, fly-fishing and Gunny being the target of several single ladies.

"I'll tell you, boys," said Gunny, "the females here out number us old guys, and if you can walk on your own and don't drool you're prime meat. I have standing invitations for dinner nearly every night. One, her name is Alice keeps inviting me over for morning coffee. One of these days I just might take her up on it."

"Why you old fox you," said Ted.

"Hey Troutman," growled Gunny. "I'm still in love with my wife, and no one will ever take her place, but once in a while a man gets tired of hanging around with bums like you and needs a little female companionship."

Rick smiled and said, "Gunny, I'm glad you're settling in, and making friends."

"Yeah, the place is okay, there are a couple of retired Marines, and a few other Vets. We usually have coffee and tell old war stories, also I go fishing with a retired history teacher. Now how about you boys taking me back home, the Guinness is making me sleepy and it's about time for my nap."

Driving Gunny back to his apartment, Ted and Rick promised to keep him updated on Marchesi and the Herald's expose'. Gunny said he would contact a couple of friends who might be able to give some insight into Marchesi's operation. These friends had retired from the Corps, moved to Florida where they worked as Miami detectives retiring a few years ago.

On the way, back to North Conway Ted commented that the Gunny was looking good. "Moving to the retirement village has certainly put the swagger back in Gunny's step."

"Yeah," agreed Rick. "He always kept himself in shape, but those last few months on the farm after his wife died he was beginning to let himself go. He was even going days without shaving."

"It's good to see him doing well," said Ted. "We got to get down here more often. He won't be around forever."

"I don't know," said Rick. "Sometimes I think he'll outlive us."

"Hmm you might be right," agreed Ted. "Especially if our old buddy Marchesi finds out who leaked all that information to the paper."

"Well what's done is done," said Rick. They drove the rest of the drive home in silence. Ted dropped Rick off at his house, and the men agreed to meet for lunch at Marge's in a couple of days.
Chapter Thirteen

The Battle Begins

Rick had been sitting in a booth at Margie's for over half an hour sipping coffee and wondering why Ted was late. Every Wednesday at 9 AM sharp, they would meet at Margie's for coffee and catch up on local events. Sometimes, Ted was late from pulling over a speeder or responding to a 911 call, but he always gave Rick a heads up. Looking at his watch for the tenth time, he heard Sally yell, "Ted Troutman, you can't walk in here wearing those waders!"

Rick turned around, and sure enough, there was Ted striding into the diner in his chest waders, wearing his fishing vest and an old Smokey the Bear hat with trout flies stuck randomly in the hatband.

"Come on Sally," said Ted. "It's just good, clean Saco River water."

"I don't care if it's holy water," replied Sally. "Turn around and march right back out of here!"

"Ok, okay," said Ted. "Stop waving that spatula at me." He gave Rick a wink, turned around and walked out of the diner. A few minutes later Ted was back minus the waders but still wearing his fishing vest and hat.

"That's a good boy," said Sally as Ted slid into the booth. "If I let you walk in here with those boots then every Tom, Dick, and Harry will think they can come in and mess up my floor. It's hard enough keeping this place clean without you boys tramping river water, mud and God knows what into my diner."

Ted gave Sally a big grin and said, "You know what I love about you, Sally? You yelling at me reminds of my Mama."

"She must have been a saint," replied Sally as she poured Ted's coffee.

"That she was," said Ted.

"Well, I'll leave you two alone," said Sally walking away to wait on another customer.

"So playing a little hooky this morning?" asked Rick.

"Yeah, I woke up early, remembered I had some free time coming, and decided spending an hour casting flies was just what I needed. Sorry, I tried to call, but you know how bad reception is up at the First Bridge."

"Catch anything?"

"Just a couple brownies about twelve inches or so,"

"I heard the Mayfly hatches are heavy this year," said Rick. "According to Jonathan at North Country Angler the action starts around 6 PM."

"Yeah," agreed Ted. There's nothing like standing chest deep in the Saco during a Mayfly hatch. It's like being caught in a snow storm, except it,s Mayflies doing their mating dance."

"You know we ought to hit the river, before the weekend," said Rick. "If we wait till Saturday the place will be mobbed with out-of-towners."

"You're right about that, how about Thursday say around five thirty? I'll pick you up, and we can hit that big pool north of town."

"Sounds like a plan," said Rick.

Ted took a sip of his coffee looked, at Rick and said, "Heard from Gunny last night. He got a hold of one of his friends. The word on the street is Marchesi's hired goons are beating the bushes trying to find out who leaked the story to the paper. There have been a couple of break-ins, and one of Marchesi's old employees was roughed up. Nobody's talking, but the cops are sure the break-ins and beatings are Marchesi's doing."

"According to Gunny's buddies, the Miami police have been trying for years to nail him, but every time they get close he slips away. It seems our old buddy has friends in high places."

"He sure does," said Rick.

"What do you mean?" asked Ted.

"Yesterday I got a call from Watkins at the Herald. Some judge that Marchesi has in his back pocket slapped an injunction on the paper. They have filed an appeal, but they won't be running their second installment on Sunday. Marchesi's lawyers have also hit the paper with a hundred million dollar lawsuit."

"Well they were expecting Marchesi to come at them with both barrels," said Ted.

"Watkins said this happens all the time and their lawyers are already working on their briefs," replied Rick. "He said the Herald has a reputation of not backing down and with the information we gave them, they're more positive than ever that this time Marchesi is going to jail."

Ted looked at Rick and said, "You know Rick what concerns me is what Marchesi is doing, sooner or later, they're going to narrow their list of suspects down to Jimmy. It won't be hard to link Jimmy to his sister, and from there, it's a short jump to you and me."

"Yeah," agreed Rick. "She didn't want to get dragged into this. I'm thinking she might need police protection."

"I was thinking the same thing," said Ted. "I'll contact the FBI office in Miami and see what they can do. Why don't you call her and give her some warning?"

Okay," said Rick.

Thursday evening at 6:45 found Rick and Ted up to their waists in the icy crystal-clear waters of the Saco River. Flowing from Saco Lake at Crawford Notch, the river runs east though New Hampshire and Maine emptying into the Atlantic at Saco Bay. The river was well famous for its trout fishing with many miles of the river set aside for fly-fishing only. Ted and Rick had fished the river for years. The mayfly hatches in late May and early June were the best times to fish the Saco. This was also the time between the skiers and the summer folk, when the locals had the river to themselves.

Ted was tying on a Red Quill dry fly, a local favorite when Rick hooked onto a nice Brown Trout. "Got one," shouted Rick, as a trout leaped out of the water.

"Whoa, nice one," yelled Ted as he waded over to where Rick was battling the big fish. The trout made a couple more jumps, headed down stream and then turned back up before Rick netted the fish.

"Man," said Ted. "Ain't he a beauty?"

"Sure is," agreed Rick. He gently held up the net, supporting the fish with his right hand. "Looks to be about eighteen inches long," The trout speckled bronze skin reflected the sun's rays. Rick admired the trout then, he slowly lowered the fish into the water. With a flick of his tail, the fish disappeared, back into the depths of the pool.

Rick and Ted continued fishing until the spreading darkness made it impossible to see the fly floating on the water. In their younger days, they would have switched over to a wet fly and continued fishing, but a few years ago, Ted had slipped and nearly drowned, and Ann had made him promise to give up night fishing.

Driving back to Ted's house, Rick looked over at Ted and said, "So what do we do now?"

"Marchesi's really playing hardball," Ted said.

"Earlier in the day, Jimmy's sister, Sara me. Apparently, someone broke into her apartment and tore the place apart. She also got a call from one of Anthony Marchesi's lawyers. He asked Sara if Jimmy might have given her anything belonging to Marchesi."

"She's scared, Ted. She was crying one minute and cursing me the next, claims her and Jimmy were never close and hadn't even talked to each other in two years. Sara said, that if she knew what she sent us was going to cause any trouble for her, she would have burned everything. I tried to reassure her and told her what she did was the right thing to do. I also told her that the FBI had been notified and will be talking to her."

"What did she say to that?" asked Ted. "It just made her madder. She hinted she might disappear until this all blows over and frankly I don't blame her," said Rick.

"You know the more I think about it the more I don't see why she should even be involved in all this."

"I agree," replied Rick. "But I don't see how we can undo her role in this."

Ted thought for a minute, and then said, "What if somehow it gets leaked out that Jimmy sent the information on Marchesi's operation directly to the paper? That would take her off the hook and also keep us out of it."

"Might work," agreed Rick. "Do you think the paper will go along with it?"

"I don't see why not," said Ted. "Interviewing her would be just standard procedure. The police can then put the word out on the street, that Sara knew nothing about Jimmy's involvement in Marchesi's operations. I'll call the paper first thing in the morning."

"Thanks, Ted," said Rick. "The fewer people who get caught up in this mess, the better,"

"Agreed Pal, thanks for the ride, now go home and get some sleep."

Chapter Fourteen

In The Lion's Den

Anthony Marchesi paced back and forth, a Cuban cigar in his right hand, and a glass half filled with whiskey in the left. Seated in a dark brown leather armchair was Marchesi's lawyer Charles Rossi. On the matching leather couch was Gino Pizzuto. Gino was a private detective, or at least he had a P.I. license. In truth, he worked for Anthony doing all sorts of dirty jobs. Setting Pizzuto up as a private detective was Rossi's idea. As Rossi explained, Marchesi's could always claim plausible deniability if Pizzuto were ever caught doing something illegal.

Rossi and Pizzuto had just given Anthony an update on their investigation of Jimmy's sister. Pizzuto had explained how he had searched the apartment but had found nothing except Jimmy's death certificate. The private eye had also interviewed three of her neighbors. One neighbor had known Sara for three years and never remembered Sara mentioning that she had a brother.

"I recall Jimmy talking about his sister a couple of times," said Anthony Marchesi. "He claimed they weren't on speaking terms. Just the same I'd like to keep tabs on her."

"Sure thing Boss," replied Pizzuto. "Oh, by the way, the word on the street is that Jimmy sent all the information directly to the paper."

Rossi nodded his head in agreement. "Gino's right, my contact at the District Attorney's office said the same thing."

"Okay, I get the picture, I guess little Jimmy sobered up, grew a backbone and acted alone," said Marchesi. "So now Charlie it's time for you to start earning some of that huge retainer fee I pay you. What's going to be our defense?"

Opening a folder Rossi said, "We're going in with the defense that Jimmy was a drunk and a drug addict and as such concocted this whole thing,." said the lawyer.

"Well the part about being a boozer and a druggy is correct," said Marchesi. "But what about all these names, events, even some old documents?"

"We're going to claim that it was all taken out of context," said Rossi. "Pieced together by Jimmy's drug clouded mind and that before Jimmy died, he was delusional and paranoid. I have several witnesses willing to testify to this, plus we have the psychologist at the rehab center that you sent Jimmy to last year who'll confirm that Jimmy was, in fact, suffering from feelings of persecution and PTSD because of his Vietnam service."

"That's right, I paid for that rehab session, plus another one he went to six or seven years ago," said Marchesi.

"Got it right here," said Rossi waving another folder. "This makes you look good."

"I like it," said Marchesi. "Poor Jimmy, for some reason only he would understand fabricates this whole thing. I will make a statement about how sad I am about Jimmy's mental problems that led him to do this and to commit suicide. I will talk about our service together in 'Nam' and how I tried to help him, giving him a job and paying for his rehab."

"By the time I get done, Jimmy will be a war hero suffering from PTSD."

"Yeah," agreed Rossi. "You'll look like a good friend who did his best to help Jimmy, giving him a job and standing by him all these years."

"There's no way the Feds will ever hang any of this on me, and it'll clear Tony Jr's name, maybe even giving him a jump in the polls. Now, where do we stand on the injunction?"

Rossi looked up from his folder, "Just what we expected. The Herald's lawyers are appealing, and they certainly have the experience fighting this sort of thing. But I think with the position we're taking on Jimmy's mental state will bring into question the validity of the information they have."

"I want to go at this with both barrels," said Marchesi. "Let's release a statement tomorrow about Jimmy's condition and how I tried to help him. Contact our friends at the homeless shelter, I donated the building and write a check each month paying for the utilities. I even show up for their Christmas party and hand out gifts. It's about time I start getting something back from my investment."

"Okay," said Rossi. "We'll setup right in front of the entrance. With your name on the building and some homeless people behind you, you'll come off as a great humanitarian, whose being slandered by the press."

"Great," "said Marchesi."How about getting some of my pals to write letters to the editor saying what a great guy I am. In addition, I keep hearing about all Social Media. You must have someone who can go on Facebook or Twitter and start creating a buzz as they say."

"I didn't know you keep up with that stuff," Rossi laughed.

"Grow or die," said Marchesi. Then turning to Pizzuto Marchesi said, "I want you to keep up your investigation. Find out exactly what was in the information Jimmy gave to the paper."

"Won't be easy Boss," replied Pizzuto. "The paper keeps the documents in a safe."

"If it was easy," snapped Marchesi, "You'd be unemployed, and I could just nicely call up the paper and ask for a copy! For what I pay you, Gino, I expect results."

"Okay Boss, sorry, I do have a contact at the Herald, an old beat reporter by the name of Blake Carter. We go way back, he could have been a star reporter, but he likes his booze. I'll buy him a few and find out what he knows."

"Now you're thinking," said, Marchesi. "I want to go on the offensive ASAP. By the time we get done, we'll bring the Herald to their knees, the FBI will back off, and Junior will be our new congressman."

Both Rossi and Pizzuto smiled and nodded in agreement. "Charlie we're done here, but Gino and I have some things to discuss and it's best if you stay out of it."

"Okay, Antonio, I understand," said Rossi as he rose and headed for the door.

Charlie Rossi walked out of the office and closed the door. Marchesi sat down across from Gino. "I sent Charlie out before we discuss anything that might be considered illegal. I trust him with my life, but I don't want to compromise his position. This is just between you and me, capisce?"

"Caprisce," replied Pizzuto.

"Now, here's want I want you to do," said Marchesi. "When Jimmy and I were in 'Nam' we had a couple of buddies. I had a disagreement with the other two guys and haven't spoken to them in forty years. However, I know Jimmy stayed in touch with them. Their names are Rick O'Neil and Ted Troutman, here are some recent photos that I had my secretary's download off of Facebook."

"As far as I know they're both living up in North Conway, New Hampshire. I want you to fly up there and snoop around. See what you can find out about them and whether they're involved.

"New Hampshire, Boss?" asked Pizzuto.

"Yeah, count yourself lucky it's not January. Play the part of a tourist and bring your clubs. I hear they're some golf courses up there. Cathy has made all the arrangements, so check with her on your way out."

"Will do," Pizzuto said as he stood to leave.

"And Gino, stay out of sight, no rough stuff, Troutman is the local sheriff, and Rick is a deputy. Just because they are old and live up in the boondocks doesn't mean they're just a couple of dumb hicks."

"Okay Boss," said Gino.

"Oh, and one more thing, leave the bling here. New Hampshire ain't Miami. Use your expense account and buy some polo shirts and khakis."

Gino grunted in reply and walked out the door. Anthony Marchesi tipped the glass of whiskey and drained what was left, then taking a puff from his cigar said: "I have a feeling that Troutman and O'Neil are involved in this somehow, and if they are they will pay for breaking their promise to me."

Saturday found Anthony Marchesi, his son Tony Junior, the Mayor of Miami, the Director of The Marchesi Halfway House, a few homeless residents, assorted reporters and city officials in front of the homeless shelter. The weather was perfect, and Anthony Marchesi was enjoying himself. He had just given a $50,000 check to the Director of the shelter, and now he sat while the Mayor and the Director said a few words thanking him for his continued generosity.

"I couldn't have said it better if I had written it myself," Marchesi whispered to his son.

Tony Junior smiled and said, "Well you didn't write it, but Charlie tells me you made a few suggestions."

"Just wanted to make sure they got it right," said Marchesi.

The Mayor finished his speech to a scattering of applause and introduced Marchesi. Anthony rose from his seat and walked to the podium. The crowd applauded, and a few of the homeless whistled and cheered.

The Mayor shook Marchesi's hand and said, "Wish I could get that kind of reception."

"It's easy," said Marchesi. "All you have to do is start writing big checks."

The Mayor laughed and sat down. Rather than standing behind the podium, Anthony stood in front. He smiled at the people in front of him, then walked over to the homeless men standing behind him and hugged each one. Turning and walking back to the middle of the stage he began to speak.

"First of all, I want to thank Mayor Phillips for coming today and to Director Francis for all the hard work she has done turning this building into a center of hope for our less fortunate brothers and sisters. However, mostly I want to thank those who call this center their home. Thank you for having the courage to start turning your lives around."

"As most of you know, my son and I don't just give them a handout, we give them a hand up. This check for $50,000 will provide for more laptops and tablets and pay for instructors so my friends here can get the training they need to get a decent job. Our goal is to provide each resident of the shelter with the tools they need to get a decent job and a place of their own."

Anthony smiled while the crowd applauded. "This shelter was a dream of my son Anthony. He has a passion and a desire to end homelessness in Miami. Now some would say that is an impossible dream. Believe me when I say if anyone can do it, he can." The crowd cheered as Marchesi smiled, raised his hands and said, "Thank you all for coming."

Marchesi waved and started to turn around when one reporter shouted out, "Hey Tony what about all this stuff in the Herald? Is any of it true?"

"Perfect timing," thought Marchesi. Pizzuto had given the reporter from a small local weekly, instructions to ask Marchesi just that question. Marchesi stopped, turned and looking the reporter in the eye said, "You know the Herald, and I have our differences. But I hope we have the same goals of making Miami a better place to live, not just for the rich and powerful, but also for the working class and those who are down on their luck."

"I'm sorry, but my lawyer has instructed me not to comment. However I will say this. The truth will come out, and when it does, I expect a full apology from the Herald. Now if you will excuse me, Tony and I have some meals to serve."

There were some cheers and applause as Marchesi walked off the stage and with his son walked into the shelter. "That was pretty slick Dad," said Junior.

"You want slick? Wait till I have the Herald by the short hairs then you'll see slick," laughed Marchesi.

Two days after the press conference Anthony Marchesi's cell phone rang, picking it up; Marchesi saw it was his lawyer Charlie Rossi. "Yeah, Charlie what's up?"

"Have you seen the paper this morning? It's all over the front page."

"What was all over the front page?" said Marchesi.

"You should buy yourself a copy," said Rossi. "There's a picture of you and Tony in front of the shelter handing the Director a check. The Mayor is standing next to you with a big smile on his face, it seems like the paper is trying to make amends."

"He better smile after the donation I gave to his reelection campaign," said Marchesi. "What did the article say?"

"Well, they kept it pretty neutral. The Herald mentioned that you founded the shelter and had given money to various local charities. The only mention they made about the allegations was that there was a lawsuit pending which the Herald hoped to resolve soon."

"Interesting, "said Marchesi. "Not exactly a peace offering, but better than I expected."

"Well, they're feeling a lot of pressure from some of your buddies. The word on the street is that the editor has been told to ease up on you."

"It's good to know I still have some friends. Just goes to show how money and power always win in the end."

"Yeah, well it isn't over yet." Rossi cautioned. "Despite the pressure they have been getting, that reporter Watkins and his editor Richard Jewells smell blood. My contact at the Herald tells me they're digging through old court records and talking to former employees of yours. My guess is they hope to beat the injunction and continue with their expose'."

"Where are we on the paper's appeal?" asked Marchesi.

"We should hear today," explained Rossi.

"Isn't that Whitehead's court?" asked Marchesi.

"Correct, that's right. Whitehead is the one who ruled against us five years ago on that suit we had with the county. He's a straight arrow and plays by the book. Unfortunately, it could go either way. The paper is arguing Freedom of the Press. I think that based on Jimmy's reputation as a drunk with mental problems, we stand a chance. I'll call as soon as I hear anything."

"Good," said Marchesi. Anthony put the phone down, poured himself some more coffee and walked out to the deck.

After a few minutes staring at the ocean, Marchesi walked back and picking up the phone, he punched in a speed number. The phone rang three times then Gino Pizzuto's raspy voice said, "Hey Boss."

"Gino," said Marchesi. "You've been up there three days, anything to report?"

"There does seem to be something going on," said Gino.

"Whatta ya mean seems to be?"

"There's this diner where Troutman and his pal O'Neil like to hang out," replied Gino. "The locals go there to get away from the tourists. Anyways, I went there for coffee and overheard one of the waitresses talking to a woman who works in the Sheriff's office. According to this woman, there have been a lot of calls coming in from the FBI in Miami and some reporter with the Herald."

"Damn! I knew those two were involved in this. I bet Jimmy gave them the same info he gave the Herald. Listen, Gino, you need to get your hands on whatever Troutman and O'Neil have on me."

"That won't be easy Boss," said Pizzuto. "The Sheriff's office is manned 24/7, and there are cameras everywhere."

"What about their houses?"

"I should be easy to break into a house. I will check it out. Oh, by the way, my contact at the Herald says that whatever Jimmy gave them is pretty convincing. The word around the paper is they have enough to put you away for a very long time."

There was silence on the line. Finally, Anthony Marchesi said, "I want a copy of everything they got on me. I don't care how you get it or how much money it costs. Just get it!"

"Will do Boss, I'll check out O'Neil's and Troutman's homes tomorrow and call my stoolie at the Herald. The guy has been stuck as a beat reporter for years. He likes his sauce, I think with a little prompting he'll get us copies."

"Push him hard Gino. " Marchesi hung up the phone and threw it across the room. The phone landed on the couch and bounced to the floor.

As the phone hit the floor, it began ringing. Cursing, Marchesi bent down, looked at the number and picked up the phone. "Charlie, I hope you have some good news for me."

"I'm afraid not Antonio," said Charlie Rossi. "The judge ruled in favor of the Herald citing Freedom of the Press."

"Damn!" Marchesi said. "What do we do now?"

"Well there's no sense pursuing this any further, there are too many precedents involving newspapers and Freedom of the Press."

"Yeah, yeah you warned me this might happen. So what do we do now?" asked Marchesi.

"I think the best strategy now is to go with the lawsuit," said Rossi

"Agreed," replied Marchesi, "we also have some new players in the game."

"New players?", asked Rossi.

"Ted Troutman and Rick O'Neil are two old war buddies of Jimmy and me. It seems good old Jimmy sent them the stuff he stole from me and they forwarded it to the paper," replied Marchesi.

"Can I assume you have Gino checking them out?"

"Best if you don't know anymore Charlie. I want you keeping your nose clean. Is there any way you can legally get copies of the information the paper has?"

"Well during the discovery process they have to release whatever they have on you."

"I want that information now!"

"Be careful," warned Rossi. "You want to look like you're the innocent victim in all this and that Jimmy's paranoia caused him to betray you. We don't want Pizzuto going around beating up people or worse. "

"Don't worry. I'll handle Pizzuto; you just make sure we win this lawsuit."
Chapter Fifteen

Taking It Up A Notch

Rick was just sitting down to a bowl of homemade chili and a bottle of Tuckerman's Pale Ale, when his cell phone rang. He did not recognize the number, but the area code was Miami. Rick punched the send button and brought the phone to his ear, "Hello,"

"Rick it's Lisa, Jimmy's sister. I'm sorry, but I don't know who else to call."

Rick could hear the panic in her voice, but could not imagine what would prompt her to call him. "Yes Lisa," Rick answered. "What's the problem?"

"Someone broke into my apartment, and some things are missing."

"Are you alright?" asked Rick.

"Yes, I was at work."

"Have you called the police?"

"Of course, they came and left about ten minutes ago. They said there'd been a lot of break-ins in the neighborhood."

"What did they take?" asked Rick.

"They took my new flat screen and some cheap jewelry. I don't have much. The thief went through all my drawers and trashed the place. The cops said it was unusual for the crooks to do something like this. Usually, it's a smash and grab. The bad guys break in; grab whatever's in clear sight, and leave. That's why I'm scared Rick. I think whoever broke in was looking for something more than TV's and costume jewelry."

Rick paused for a moment and then asked, "What do you mean?"

"Well, about ten days ago some guy by the name of Rossi contacted me concerning Jimmy. He said he was a lawyer representing Anthony Marchesi and asked me to meet with him," replied Lisa.

"How did the meeting go?" asked Rick.

"I was pretty nervous. The office is in one of those new high rises that look out over the beach, very plush. Mr. Rossi was courteous and polite. He asked me a lot of questions. Like was Jimmy happy or did he have any complaints about Mr. Marchesi. I told him that my brother and I rarely spoke and only saw each other once or twice a year and that whenever I asked how he was doing or anything about his work, he just said he was okay."

"Mr. Rossi asked if Jimmy had ever given me anything that looked like it might belong to Mr. Marchesi's company, and I said no. I hated to lie Rick, but I just stretched the truth. Jimmy never gave me anything. I never even opened it."

"Your right Lisa," said Rick. "You didn't lie. Did he ask you anything else?"

"He kept asking me about Jimmy and if he had any mental problems like PTSD because of his tour in Viet Nam. I told him that Jimmy always had a problem with drugs and alcohol and years ago had seen a VA counselor. I thought he had straightened himself out. After about half an hour, he thanked me for my time and gave me a check to cover my cost of driving down to meet with him. Like I said he was very nice, but I got the sense he was disappointed with my answers."

"Disappointed how? "Rick asked.

"Well I mean I think he believed me. It was just that I got the feeling Mr.Rossi was hoping for something more. I mean with all the stuff in the newspapers and everything."

"Listen, Lisa, you have nothing to fear. We don't know if Marchesi's behind the robbery. They found nothing and everything you told this lawyer was true. Maybe, Marchesi had one of his people search your place and make it look like a robbery just to make sure you weren't hiding anything."

"I hope you're right. I feel so violated. I'm all alone in this world Rick. I don't have much money and few friends. Fortunately, one of them is letting me stay with her while I find a new apartment. I can't stand the idea of sleeping in the apartment after someone pawed through all my things."

"Lisa, again I'm sorry," said Rick. "Moving is probably a good idea. Please let me know if there's anything I can do for you."

"Just keep me out of this."

"I promise I will do everything in my power not to involve you."

"Thank you, Rick," was all Lisa had said before the line went dead.

Rick speed dialed Ted.

"Hey what's up, Bro?

"I just got a call from Lisa, Jimmy's sister; someone broke into her apartment and trashed the place. She was questioned a few days ago by Marchesi's lawyer and now thinks Marchesi had one of his goon's search her place for any of the stuff Jimmy stole."

"Sounds like Marchesi's playing hard ball," said Ted.

"Agreed, I figure he's mighty upset about losing that injunction. According to the paper, they plan to print the next installment this Sunday. Lisa is scared and she is going to look for a new apartment."

"Look, Rick, there's not much you can or should do about this robbery. Maybe it was just a random robbery. Let the local police handle it. You need to stay out of it."

The way Ted said, "Stay out of it," sounded more like a command than just friendly advice, and Rick could feel his temperature rising. Rick took a deep breath and said, "I know you're right Ted. It's just that I feel responsible if anything happens to her."

"I'll tell you what; I'll call my contact at the FBI in Miami and give him a heads up. Then if something does happen, they and the local cops can move fast."

"Okay," said Rick. "I just hope all this doesn't come back to hurt her. I promised I'd do everything I could to keep her out of this. I don't break my promises Ted, and I don't intend to start now."

"I know Rick, but let the authorities handle this. At some point, she may have to testify."

"You know Ted it isn't too much of a leap for Marchesi to start connecting Jimmy to us."

"Yeah, I've been thinking the same thing. But even if Marchesi finds out we're the ones who turned the info over to the paper what can Anthony do?"

"Well for starters he could take out all his anger on us. Remember he's pretty ruthless, and if he suspects we were involved, I wouldn't be surprised if he exacted revenge on us and I don't mean by dragging us to court."

"Anything's possible, and you're right about his seeking revenge. Remember he's not just some street punk anymore. He has money, power, and a son eyeing a congressional seat. He would have a lot to lose if he got caught going after us."

Rick paused then said, "Still I think we better be on the alert. When he decides to come after us, he'll do it using a hired gun."

"Don't worry pal." Then using his best John Wayne, Ted said, "This isn't Miami. I'm the law in these here parts, and nobody comes into town without me knowing about it."

Rick had to smile, Ted could make light of any situation, but when the going got tough, there's no one Rick would rather have covering his back. "Ok Sheriff Taylor," said Rick, referring to the character Andy Griffin played on The Andy Griffin Show. "Good to know you're on duty."

"Just remember, Rick," laughed Ted. "If I'm Sheriff Taylor, you're Barney Fife. With that, the two friends signed off, each promising to keep the other updated on any new developments."

The black Grand Cherokee pulled into the Comfort Inn just off the White Mountain Highway in North Conway. It was 6 pm as Gino Pizzuto walked from the Jeep and into the hotel. Since the last time Gino had been in North Conway, he had done some research on both Ted and Rick. He knew more about them than even their closest friends.

Pizzuto signed in, got his key and rode the elevator to his room. The desk clerk said how lucky he was to get a room. They were at the height of the summer tourist season and rooms were at a premium. Somehow, Marchesi's secretary had worked her magic and booked a room for four nights. Pizzuto figured four days was plenty of time to find what he was looking for and get back to Miami and civilization. The last time he was here, it took two weeks before all the black fly bites went away.

Pizutto took the elevator to the second floor, walked about halfway down the hall to his room and opened the door. He laid his bag on the bed, and opened it up resting on top of his clothes was a small hard plastic case, opening the case exposed a Colt 380 Mustang XSP. At only five inches long and weighing in less than a pound fully loaded. The small Colt was the perfect concealment weapon.

Pizzuto would have preferred his Beretta M9, but he couldn't fly with it, and the big pistol created too big a bulge. The little Colt didn't pack the stopping power of the 9mm, but it fit nicely into the ankle holster and with the baggy cargo pants he wore was invisible. Pizzuto had picked up the pistol from an associate who had met him at a MacDonald's two miles from the Manchester airport. He did not expect to have to use the weapon, but with what he was planning to do, he wanted to be sure that he had some backup.

After stowing away his clothes, Pizzuto got back in the Jeep and headed downtown. His first stop was at Delaney's Hole in the Wall, a local sports bar known for their burgers. After eating, he drove by Ted and Rick's house. The lights were on in both houses, and Pizzuto slowed down as he approached Rick's house.

As Pizzuto passed by the small ranch, he said to himself, "You're first O'Neil." Driving back to town he stopped and brought a six-pack of Bud Lite. Once back in his room he checked his smart phone for messages then settled back to watch The Red Sox's battle the Tampa Bay Rays.

The next day after a quick breakfast at the motel, Gino went to the local Walmart and bought a fishing license, chest waders, and a fly-fishing outfit. It was past the peak fly-fishing season, but he figured the fishing gear would give him a reason for driving around the back roads.

Both Ted and Rick's houses were near the Saco River, and a small stream cut through the woods across the road from their properties. The creek ran parallel to the road. It was a perfect place for Pizzuto to conduct his surveillance.

With the waders and a fly rod, he figured anyone seeing him would just think he was fishing for the small native brook trout that populated these waters. He completed the outfit by buying a fishing vest and a floppy hat. The vest was a better place to hide his pistol than the ankle holster, which would be useless under the waders. He also purchased a small high-resolution binocular for keeping a close watch on his subjects.

He put the fishing gear back in the Jeep and returned to the motel. Back in his room, he took all the tags off the vest and hat and dropping them on the floor proceeded to stomp on them, rubbing them into the carpet. After a few minutes he was satisfied that he had removed some of the newness out of the hat and vest. Then he pulled out a couple of topographical maps, studied them for a few minutes, checked the GPS app on his phone and put on the vest and hat. He started for the door and then remembering reached down and removed the pistol from the ankle holster, stuffing it into the right front pocket of the fishing vest. Pizzuto looked into the mirror and was satisfied that even if he had never fished before in his life, he at least looked the part. He opened the door and headed down the hall and back out to his jeep.

Pizzuto pulled the jeep off the road about one hundred yards from Rick's house. The person at Walmart had suggested the spot as a good place to fish. Pizzuto grabbed his fly rod from the back of the SUV and walked down a well-trodden path to the brook. At the edge of the stream, the trail ran both right and left following the twisting stream. Turning to the left, Pizzuto followed the path, waving his hand in front of his face.

Too late, he realized he had left the bug spray back in his motel room and now a cloud of mosquitoes and two or three deer flies surrounded him. "At least I can see these bugs," he said as he brushed a mosquito off his arm.

Finally, Pizzuto reached a position across from O'Neil's house. Though he hated the outdoors, even Gino had to admit this was a scenic little spot. The path widens into a small clearing right where the stream formed a small pool. Pizzuto looking into the pool could see several small dark fish zipping back and forth across the pool. "I guess those must be the trout."

Pizzuto thought, "Well I might as well look like I know what I'm doing." He said stringing the fly line through the guides on his rod.

Once the line was on the fly rod, he pulled about ten feet of line off the rod and cast into the pool. The line landed in a clump frightening the brookies. Pizzuto had no interest in trying to tie a fly on the end of the leader and certainly, he did not want to catch one of the slimy critters. The only fish he liked was the tuna at The Grill Fish in South Miami.

Satisfied that he would fool anyone passing by in their cars, he set the fly rod down, pulled out his binoculars and scanned the house. Just as he was focusing the binoculars, Ted's green Ford Explorer pulled into the driveway. Pizzuto ducked down behind a pine tree as Ted, Rick and some old guy wearing an olive drab fatigue hat got out of the SUV and walked into the house. Watching, Pizzuto realized that Ted was not in his sheriff uniform. Ted and the other two were dressed in blaze orange jackets.

"Great," thought Pizzuto, "Looks like these morons are going hunting. I'll have plenty of time to search the house."

As he watched the house, an idea began to form in his head. "Maybe they're going up to that camp the Boss mentioned. If they are, then it might be a good idea to follow them. Their camp would be a great place to hide those papers Marchesi wants. I can always search O'Neil's house, but this may be the only chance I have of finding out the location of the camp."

Gathering up his fly rod, Pizzuto quickly walked back down the trail. Pizzuto reached his Jeep, opened the tailgate and threw the rod in, along with his waders. Pizzuto put on his sneakers and climbed into the driver's seat just as the three men exited Rick's house and headed for the Explorer.

Ted backed the SUV out of Rick's driveway and headed down Westside Drive. At the intersection of Westside Drive and Route 16, Ted turned left and headed north. A few miles later Ted turned off onto Route 16B towards Bear Mountain Ski Area. Three more miles down the road, the Explorer turned right onto a dirt road. The road twisted and turned up and down a couple of hills, following a small brook Ted's SUV finally turned left onto what appeared to be an old logging road.

Since turning off, Route 16B, Pizzuto had lengthened the distance between his vehicle and Ted's. It was easy to follow the cloud of dust created by the Explorer as Ted drove up the dirt road. Gino reached the logging road, he could see where Ted's tires had dug into the road surface as the Explorer slowed down and turned up the rugged road. Pizzuto came to a stop at the turnoff, rolling down the window he could hear the Explorer's engine as the SUV slowly rumbled up the road. After about five minutes of listening, the woods went silent. Pizzuto assumed Ted and company had reached their destination. Pizzuto shifted his Jeep into drive, and let the vehicle coast down the road another one hundred feet, before pulling the Jeep over into a small clearing.

Pizutto turned off the engine and silently cursed, "I hate tramping through these woods, too many bugs, snakes and poison ivy."

However, with no other choice, he started walking up the logging road. About a half mile up the road, he could hear laughter and then the roar of a chainsaw coming to life. Pizzuto knew the sputtering saw would mask any noise he might make, so he continued up the road another hundred feet. Through the trees, he could see the shape of a cabin. Ted was sawing up some logs while Rick and the older man were hauling a box of food and a case of beer into the cabin.

"Looks like they're going to be staying for a day or two," Pizutto thought. "I'll have plenty of time to search O'Neil's house. Now that I know where this cabin is I can come back after they're gone and give it a once over."

Pizzuto slowly backed away from the cabin and once he could no longer see it, turned and made his way back to the Jeep and drove back to the motel. When he reached his room, Pizzuto took a shower. Then changing into jeans and a black long sleeve tee shirt, he headed out to get something to eat and wait for it to get dark.

Darkness settled into the valley as Pizzuto parked his Jeep off the road. He pulled on a black watch cap and quickly crossed the road. Pizutto slowly crept along the tree line bordering Rick's front lawn.

Reaching the backyard, he waited a few minutes making sure that the coast was clear before crossing the yard to Rick's back door. Pizzuto laughed when he turned the doorknob and swung the door open. "The fool didn't even lock his door. Man, if he lived in Miami he'd learn real quick to lock his doors or have his place stripped."

Pizzuto turned on a small flashlight. He had attached a red filter to the flashlight, making it less likely to be seen by passing motorists. Keeping the light pointing down he made his way through the house. After a quick tour of the small ranch, Pizzuto went back to Rick's bedroom and began searching the room. One hour later Pizzuto was sitting in the kitchen drinking one of Rick's beers and flipping through a notebook he had found on a desk in the bedroom.

Searching the house had failed to turn up any of the documents Marchesi wanted. All he found was a well-worn notebook this journal was a treasure trove of information. Years ago, while going through rehab, Rick on the advice of one of his counselors had started keeping a diary. Since then Rick had faithfully recorded his daily activities. Reading it confirmed Marchesi's suspicions. O'Neil and Ted had a packet of information from Jimmy's sister. It was unclear whether she knew what was in the contents, but apparently, O'Neil had told her enough to make her scared of possible reprisals from Marchesi. "Wait till the Boss sees this. He'll blow a gasket."

Also on Rick's desk was a photo of Rick, Ted and the old guy who Pizzuto had seen earlier. Rick had written the names of the three men along the bottom of the picture identifying the third individual as Gunny. Rick had made an entry about Ted, and their visit with Gunny and how they discussed the information on Marchesi and how best to deal with it. There was no doubt that Gunny was involved with Ted and Rick, but how much it was hard to tell. Finding Gunny's address and phone number, Pizzuto made a mental note to pay this Gunny a visit.

First, he wanted to search the cabin where the three of them were spending the weekend. According to Rick's entry, they planned to stay at the cabin Friday and Saturday and return home on Sunday.

Pizzuto took out his smart phone and took pictures of the notebook entries and the photo of Gunny, attached them to an email and sent everything to Marchesi.

A half an hour later Gino Pizzuto was back in his motel room listening to Anthony Marchesi's rant. "I knew it! I knew!" Marchesi yelled. Pizzuto pressed the speaker button and put the cell phone down on the bed as he took a sip from his beer. "Those two and Jimmy were always tight. This is their way of getting back at me for what happened in 'Nam.'"

"What happened in 'Nam'?" asked Gino.

"If I wanted you to know, I would have told you! This is personal between those two idiots and me! They will pay for breaking their promise. Believe me; they'll pay big time!" There was a pause, as if Marchesi was catching his breath. "Go ahead with your plan to check out that cabin and pay this Gunny a visit, see what he knows, then get a plane back to Miami."

"Will do Boss, the less time I spend in this hick town, the better." The phone went dead, and Pizzuto leaned back in the chair and turned on the TV. "Might as well get some rest. It looks like the Boss is going to be keeping me pretty busy."

"It doesn't get any better than this," said Gunny gazing into the fire. "Steaks on the grill, a beautiful clear night and a roaring fire, it just too bad I have to share it with you clowns."

"Come on Gunny," laughed Ted. "Cut us some slack."

"I'll cut O'Neil some slack, but you Troutman spent most of the day playing with that noisy, smelly chainsaw, while Rick cleaned up the cabin and slaved over supper. I didn't even get a decent nap because of all your cursing and that saw's sputtering."

"Alright Gunny, I promise tomorrow no more chainsaw. What do you say we walk over and check out Pike's cabin, catch a few natives out of his creek and have a fish fry?"

"That sounds like a great idea," said Gunny.

Rick had been sitting quietly, enjoying the bantering between Ted and Gunny. Despite Gunny's griping, the day had been a pleasant and relaxing one.

Ted's camp had been one of the constants Rick's life. Built by Ted and his Dad back in the sixties, it had withstood the frigid cold and deep snows of many a long

New Hampshire winter and although it looked rough on the outside, inside it was a comfortable cabin. Maybe not a place where a group of women would want to spend a weekend, but to Ted, Rick, and Gunny it was better than any fancy resort or spa.

For years after returning from Viet Nam, the three of them had spent many a weekend at camp, with Gunny as therapist, serving up homegrown philosophy and words of wisdom that only someone who had seen the horrors of two wars could. As far as Ted and Rick were concerned, the Gunny and those sessions saved their lives. Both men would do anything for Gunny. To them, he represented the best of the Greatest Generation. Gunny considered Ted and Rick to be the sons he never had and although he would never admit it, the time he spent with them was as much a therapy session for Gunny as it was for Ted and Rick.

As usual, the talk centered on politics, history and Viet Nam, all of them were politically conservative, so most of the time, instead of arguing one position or another they griped about the sorry condition of the country.

Ted as usual, started the discussion by saying, "You know since 'Nam', this country has gone downhill in a hand basket."

"True enough," said Gunny. "The thing is the war served as an excuse for liberals and socialists to push their agenda."

Ted grunted in agreement.

Rick said, "We should have never been in that war."

"I'll agree with you," said Gunny. "We should never get involved in any war we don't plan to win. We all know, Nam was a losing proposition, right from the get go. Like Korea, instead of going all out to defeat the North Vietnamese, we only wanted to contain them."

"We were pretty war weary after WWII," said Rick.

Ted piped up, "I wonder what would have happened if Truman had let MacArthur go after the Chinese?"

"Probably a much bigger war," said Gunny.

"Yes, but," said Ted. "Both China and Russia were pretty beaten up after World War Two. Except for Pearl Harbor, the USA was the only country that wasn't invaded or bombed. We had the atomic bomb and the means to deliver it. If we had faced down the Chinese and Russians in Korea, there wouldn't have been a Viet Nam and the world would be a much different place."

"Will that war ever end?" asked Rick.

"What do ya mean?" Gunny asked.

"What I mean is there's a lot of guys still struggling with PTSD and now all that exposure to Agent Orange is taking its toll. Cancer rates are high among Nam Vets."

"But at least the VA is finally paying disability for these diseases," said Ted

"Yeah," agreed Gunny, "But they had to be dragged kicking and screaming before they finally decided that Agent Orange was causing all these diseases. Just think of all those guys, who suffered for years without any help from good old Uncle Sam."

"What bothers me," said Ted, "Is how many of our guys and for that matter, Vietnamese died or were injured and displaced because we didn't fight to win."

Gunny spat into the fire and in an angry voice said, "Don't forget all those war protestors, politicians and movie stars who gave aid and comfort to the enemy. If we had more support at home, the war would have been shortened by years."

"I'll never forgive or forget those guys," said Ted. "They came back from Nam, got high on drugs and alcohol and concocted a bunch of stories about atrocities. After that, they started calling us baby killers and believing we were all crazy drug addicts."

"At least that has finally changed, and the public realizes and appreciates the sacrifices we made," said Rick.

"Sure," snapped Gunny. "But how long did that take? For years, they treated us like scum.

How many guys are still carrying scars inflicted on them by these so-called peaceniks? I don't care about whether the war was justified; it's never justified to treat veterans that way."

There was silence for a moment until Ted raising his beer poured some it on the ground, and said, "Well here's to all our brothers in arms who still bear the wounds of battle." Rick and Gunny lifted their beer and joined Ted in the toast.

Ted was pulling another beer from the cooler when Gunny asked about Marchesi. "How's your old war buddy doing?" Ted always quick with an answer said, "He's all bent out of shape, threatening to sue the Miami Herald and skin alive whoever ratted him out."

Rick looking at the smoke curling from the dying fire said, "He's suing the Herald for a hundred million dollars."

"A hundred million" exclaimed Gunny. "Is he worth that much?"

"I don't know," said Rick. "But his company, Marchesi Global is a public company and trades on the NASDAQ, so I'm sure these reports by the Herald could affect his company's stock value."

Suddenly Ted's cell began buzzing. "I thought we were in a dead zone," said Rick.

"Guess they must have boosted the signals." I don't recognize the number, but not too many people have my personal cell number." Ted punched the send key and said, "This is Ted."

The voice on the other end snarled: "Troutman you low life. You and your buddy O'Neil have gone too far, and now you're going to pay!"

Ted looked at the phone then at Rick and Gunny. Ted shaking his head pushed the speaker button. "Tony, haven't heard from you in ages. For what do we owe this honor and where did you get my cell number?"

Rick and Gunny stared dumbfounded as Marchesi said, "You need to have a long talk with your hick deputy. That guy will believe anything."

"Yeah, I'll talk to him," said Ted. "Now what do you want?"

"Is O'Neil There?" asked Marchesi.

"Right here," said Rick.

"Good, because I'm only going to say this once, I know Jimmy's sister sent you those forged documents. You and I know Jimmy had fabricated them. I also know you are the ones who sent them to the Herald. The Herald, believing the documents were accurate published two front-page articles, despite my attorneys filing an injunction and warning the paper that they were forgeries.

I just filed a hundred million dollar lawsuit against the Herald and you and your fat pal. I will bleed you dry in lawyer fees and after I'm through you'll be lucky if you still have the shirts on your backs!" "Are you threatening us?" asked Ted.

"No, I'm not threatening you, that's a promise, and unlike you two, I always keep my promises," said Marchesi.

"This has nothing to do with 'Nam," shouted Rick, who was visibly shaken by Marchesi's threats.

"Oh but it does," responded Marchesi. "All this is just a feeble attempt by the two of you. All these years you were waiting for an opportunity to take me down. Well, it won't work. I have money, power, and influence. Your attempt at tarnishing my good name is nothing more than a minor irritation. The sad thing is you guys could have shared in my success. Back in 'Nam,' I offered you positions in my business, but you refused. I think you are jealous of my wealth and fame and are using these false documents that poor Jimmy put together. Anyway, I just wanted to let you know about the lawsuit. My lawyers will be in touch, and I'll see you two morons in court." With that, the phone went dead.

Nobody spoke for a moment or two. Finally, Ted said, "What am I going to tell Ann? If what he says is true, this could bankrupt us."

Rick looked at Ted and said, "I'm sorry Ted, and I'm sorry I ever sent the Miami Herald those papers."

"No Rick you did the right thing. Somehow we'll come out of this okay."

"But what if he's right and those documents were all fabricated by Jimmy? With a computer and the right software you can doctor up just about anything," said Rick.

At this Gunny spoke up, "Listen guys don't panic. Even if everything Jimmy put together was just a pack of lies, how were you to know? The Herald should have vetted those papers and made sure they were real. Besides, didn't you say the FBI and the Florida State Attorney's Office also has copies?"

"Yeah that's right," said Ted. "The last time I spoke to the special agent in charge of the investigation the FBI was satisfied that the documents were legit."

"Well there you have it," said Gunny. "It sounds to me that Marchesi's lawsuit doesn't stand a chance."

"Doesn't matter," said Rick. "With his money and a team of high powered lawyers you can bet he'll do whatever it takes to discredit those documents and make Jimmy appear to be a nut case. Besides, he's right the lawyer fees alone will break us."

The three men talked late into the night, planning ways to get out of the lawsuit. The only thing they could come up with is to call the Herald and discuss how they were going to handle this suit and if the paper would handle all legal fees. Ted said he'd contact FBI and the State Attorney's office and report Marchesi's phone call. Finally, around two in the morning Ted, Rick, and Gunny fell into a restless sleep. Waking up at seven, they made coffee, bacon, and eggs and headed back to town, their weekend retreat ruined.

As the men headed back to Conway, Gino Pizzuto was on the phone to Anthony Marchesi. "Yeah Boss, I was planning on searching their cabin as soon as I'm sure they're all back in town."

"Oh, I think they're on their way back now. I called them last night, and I'm betting they didn't sleep much."

"Okay, I'll drive over to O'Neil's house just to make sure then, I'll head up to the cabin,"

"Gino, once you search the cabin, whether you find anything or not I want you to trash the place. Make it look like somebody broke into it and had an orgy."

"Sure thing Boss, do you want me to burn the place down?"

"No, at least not yet, just break everything and make a mess.

In addition, this Gunny, he's a very special friend, kind of a mentor. I want you to pay him a visit and rough him up a bit. Don't do anything that can be traced back to me. Make it look like a random mugging. O'Neil and Troutman will know it is me and that's exactly I what. You got all that Gino?"

"Got it, Boss,"

"Okay, you know what you got to do. Get it done and get your tail back down here."

"Will do Boss, I'll see you in a couple of days."
Chapter Sixteen

Round Two

Monday morning and Rick was leaving The Cranmore Health Club when his cell phone buzzed. The call was from Bill Pike who owned a cabin near Ted's. Each time Bill or Ted went to their camp; they always checked on each other's cabin and then called the other to report. Rick punched the call button. "Hi Bill, what's up?"

"I'm at Ted's camp. I couldn't get a hold of him. I guess he must be at the Donut Shop and doesn't want to be disturbed."

Rick laughed, "You know Ted."

"Yeah well he's going to choke on his jelly filled when he hears what I got to tell him," Pike said.

"Why what's wrong?"

"His cabin has been broken into. Someone smashed in the door with the ax from your tool shed and broke every piece of furniture in the place. They slit the cushions on the couch and Ted's favorite recliner. Tipped over your food locker and tore up the bunk mattresses. They even found the liquor that you guys hid under the sink and smashed every bottle, throwing them through the windows. Some mice and coons have already had a field day in here. I'll clean up and board up what I can, but you guys need to get up here ASAP."

"Did they take the guns and ammo?"

"Nope, they're still under the floor boards. There haven't been any problems up here for years, and from the look of things, this wasn't a bunch of kids having a party. I think somebody doesn't like Sheriff Troutman and took it out on his cabin."

Just then, Rick's phone beeped. Another caller was trying to connect him. "Bill, I got Ted trying to reach me."

"Okay, tell Ted me and some of the boys will be glad to help."

"Will do,"

Rick hit the call button and when Ted answered said, "I got some bad news for you, Buddy."

"How did you hear about Gunny?"

"Gunny, what's wrong with Gunny? Look, I just got off the phone with Bill, and he said someone trashed the camp!"

"Crap!" shouted Ted. "Well, that'll have to wait, we have bigger problems, somebody beat up Gunny."

"Gunny, is he hurt badly?"

"Could be worse, Tom Higgins one of Gunny's buddies called me. It seems last night Gunny went down to the VFW to play pitch. About 10:30 pm, he walked out of the club. As he was unlocking, the car door someone cold cocked him. Gunny hit the ground, and then the S.O.B kicked him a couple of times in the ribs. Tom found him a few minutes later sitting on the curb holding his head. The EMTs took Gunny to the emergency room. He's got a concussion, couple of cracked ribs and lots of scrapes and bruises but otherwise, he's okay."

"Do they know who did it?"

"No, I'll call the police next. Apparently, they think it's a random mugging. But Higgins says he didn't say much to the police and that he's madder than a wet hen, wants to go home and said that he wants to see us as soon as possible."

"He's not dying is he?" replied Rick.

"No nothing like that, but Higgins says he keeps saying he needs to see us and he's threatening to check himself out of the hospital and drive up here."

"I'm leaving Cranmore now, I'll be at your office in five minutes." said Rick.

"Good, I'll let Tom Higgins know we should be at the hospital in about ninety minutes and to tie him down until we get there."

Fifteen minutes later, Ted Sheriff's car with lights flashing was doing eighty-five down Route 93 to Catholic Medical Center. Rick would have preferred a slower speed, but Ted was determined to get there as fast as possible. For the last ten minutes, both men had been silent as Ted with a grim expression on his face concentrated on his driving and Rick held his breath as the cruiser weaved in and out of traffic. Finally, a stretch of open road gave them a chance to relax a bit.

Ted said, "This is Marchesi's doing."

"I've been thinking the same thing," said Rick. "Trashing the cabin and Gunny's mugging happening just after Marchesi's phone call, he's definitely behind it."

"He's playing hardball, that's for sure." This is revenge pure and simple. You can bet he hired some thug, and they'll be little or no evidence to connect Marchesi with any of this."

"What do we do now?" asked Rick.

"Well, we can't change what we did. Turning that packet over to the paper and the authorities was the right thing to do. But Marchesi believes its payback time, and I don't think he's through with us yet."Ted pulled into the hospital entrance and parked the cruiser in a no parking zone near the emergency room doors. Ted walking briskly into the emergency room flashed his badge and asked for Timothy O'Brien.

The nurse looked at Ted and smiled, "You must mean Gunny,"

"You know Gunny?" asked Ted.

She laughed, "No, but he insists everyone call him Gunny. Claims Mr. O'Brien was his dad's name."

"Yeah that's Gunny," said Ted. "How's he doing?"

"He's one tough old man. Took a heck of a beating, anyone else his age would be in critical condition. They moved him up to room 402A. You can take the elevator just down the hall and to your left."

Ted and Rick took the elevator to the fourth floor and started walking down the hall. It was not hard to find the room all you had to do was follow the sound of Gunny's voice. Ted and Rick walked in just as Gunny was catching his breath. Tom Higgins and Gunny's daughter, Sara were standing by the bed trying to calm Gunny down as a nurse adjusted his IV.

"You know Gunny you're not in the Marines anymore and the staff here doesn't have to obey your orders," said Ted.

"About time you two yahoos got here," barked Gunny. "I was about to write you two up as AWOL."

Rick ignoring Gunny turned to Sara and asked, "So how's he doing?"

Before she could answer Gunny bellowed, "Ask me you meathead, I'm right here!"

Sara shook her head. "As you can hear, his voice is just fine as for the rest of him the doctors want to keep him one more day. They have done x-rays and an MRI, and except for two cracked ribs, there are no more broken bones. They are concerned about his concussion, and if he weren't trying to be the tough Marine, he'd admit he gets a little dizzy when he tries to stand."

"Nothing new there," laughed Ted.

"You know Troutman," Gunny snarled. "Wearing that uniform doesn't make you any smarter, you'll still as dumb as a box of nails."

They all laughed at Gunny's remark. Gunny then said, "Thank you, nurse. Sara, why don't you a break, I need to talk to these two clowns alone."

Ted and Rick looked at Sara who just shrugged her shoulders. "Okay, I could use a cup of coffee. We'll be back in fifteen minutes."

Sara, Tom and the nurse walked out of the room. Gunny watched them go and then looking at Rick and Ted said, "I've got a message for you from your buddy Marchesi."

"What?" said Ted?

"The guy who attacked me, said to tell you that Marchesi keeps his promises."

"Tell us exactly what happened," Rick said.

"I was at the VFW playing cards. I left about ten thirty, went out the back door and walked to my truck. I was unlocking the door when I got hit from behind. I went down and started to get back up when the S.O.B kicked me in the ribs. Then he grabbed me and said he had a message from Marchesi."

"Did you get a good look at him?" asked Ted.

"No, it was too dark and the parking lot is missing a couple of lights. All I know is he was about six foot and very strong, picked me up like I was a baby."

"Sounds like a pro," said Ted."

"Yeah,' said Gunny."I hate to admit it but I never saw him, and he hit me like a ton of bricks. I guess I'm getting a little careless in my old age. I should have been checking my "sixes." All those years of trying to teach "Boots" like you guys about maintaining situational awareness and some guy sneaks up, and sucker punches me."

"Could have happened to anyone of us," said Rick. "This guy was watching you and waiting for the right time to deliver his message, thankfully you're not too badly injured."

"You guys have got to get me out of here before I go crazy."

"Sorry Gunny," said Ted, "but you're here, until the doctors say it's okay to go home."

"He's right Gunny," added Rick. "Let's make sure you're 100%. If you went home now, we'd worry about you falling down and hurting yourself."

Gunny grunted in agreement. "Just give me a couple of days, and I'll be battle ready."

"Look Gunny," said Rick, "there's no one Ted, and I would rather have watching our backs then you. This is our fight. Marchesi used you to deliver a warning to us; I don't think he'll be bothering you again."

"Just the same I want to be kept in the loop."

"Will do,"

"Okay, now tell me what happened to Ted's cabin."

Gunny listened intently, as Ted and Rick filled him in on the cabin.

"How the heck did he know about your camp? You have had to draw maps to the camp and guys still get lost."

"We think he followed us up there," said Rick. "Do you remember you commented on that black Grand Cherokee that was behind us on the way into camp?"

"Yeah I do, he followed us to camp."

"Right," nodded Ted.

"Then he follows me back to my apartment," replied Gunny.

"Okay," agreed Ted. "So he jumps you, drives back to camp and proceeds to trash it. I'm betting right now, he's back in Miami reporting to Marchesi."

"One Hell of a busy guy," said Gunny.

The men continued discussing Gunny's mugging, the break-in and their next move. Ted said he would update the FBI on the attack and the break in. Beyond that, they just had to remain vigilant. As they were wrapping up their discussion, Sara stuck her head into the room.

"Is it safe to come in?" she asked.

"Sure Honey, Ted and Rick were both leaving. They have convinced me to behave myself and stay one more day. Sorry if I caused any problems."

Sara looked surprised but managed a silent thank you to Ted and Rick.

"See ya in a couple of days Gunny," said Ted as he and Rick walked out the door.

"Okay guys and thanks," said Gunny.

"Man, that's the first time, Gunny listened and took my advice," Ted said.

"Well there's a first time for everything," replied Rick. "You know, I think he's coming to grips with old age and the fact that he might need a little help now and then."

"I guess you're right," replied Ted "It's just hard, to think of the Gunny getting old and feeble."

"Yeah, well sooner or later old age catches up with us all. Gunny's eighty-four and although he's still one tough Marine, at his age, it doesn't take much to knock the steam out of him."

Driving back to North Conway Ted and Rick discussed what their next move should be.

"Marchesi is reverting back to his true nature," said Rick.

"Yeah," agreed Ted. "He's sending us a strong message. However, what's done is done and nothing we do now is going to change his desire to pay us back. If you ask me, this is only the beginning."

"I'm afraid you're right. Trashing the camp and beating up Gunny was just his style. I think he's enjoying playing with us. I bet you this is just round one. So what do we do now?" asked Rick.

"As soon as I get back to the office, I'll have one of my deputies start canvassing the local hotels and restaurants for someone from out of state driving a rented black Jeep Cherokee. We will call the car rental agencies around Manchester Airport and see what info they have. It shouldn't be too hard to track this guy down. Once we ID him, then we can get the word out."

"I believe Gunny's safe from any more attacks, and besides, he's on his guard now. I don't think anyone is going to get the drop on him again. My main concern is Ann and the kids. I'm going to sit them down and have a talk with them."

Rick sighed, "I'm the one responsible for this mess, and I want to be there when you tell them. At least so we can share in Ann's wrath."

Ted looked over at Rick, "Ok buddy, but you know Ann. We have discussed this, and we both agree that you're doing the right thing. Ann and I are behind you 100%."

"Thanks, Ted, I appreciate it more than you know. I just hate to put your family in jeopardy."

"Don't worry about us. Ann's deadly with a shotgun or pistol and the kids learned how to shoot and defend themselves years ago. Everybody has concealed weapons permits, so we'll be okay. Besides, I think next time he's coming after you and me."

"Well I guess I better go home and clean my guns," said Rick.

"Good idea and start wearing that 9mm I gave you. You're a part time deputy, and you should be armed.

Also, do me a favor and check with Bill Pike about the camp."

"Will do," said Rick. "We should get up there pretty soon and figure what we'll need to fix the place up."

"I'll tell you what, after we get through talking to Ann and the kids, we can set a date for a working weekend at camp."

"Okay, I'm sure old man Pike and all the Sugar House Boys will be happy to help out."

"Ha, after all the free Saturday night deer camp dinners I've made for them, they better be."

Both men laughed. Ted was famous for his deer camp dinners; Bill Pike and the guys always showed up and ate their fill of the meal Ted prepared.

"Heck, said Ted. "I'll ask Bill if he can bring up his backhoe. If we get enough men up there we can fix the cabin and fill in the ruts in the road at the same time."

"Okay," agreed Rick. "And there's that one culvert that needs repairing."

Ted and Rick spent the rest of the ride back home talking about camp. For years they discussed adding a deck, rebuilding the dam on the old beaver pond, and building a new outhouse, but except for patching and fixing anything that broke, those projects remained just pipe dreams.

Ted's wife Ann loved to say: "There's a lot of talk, but darn little action when it comes to you guys and all your big plans."
As Ted and Rick were driving back to North Conway, Gino Pizzuto was sitting in Marchesi's home office drinking a beer while Anthony Marchesi sipped a bourbon and water. Gino had just updated Marchesi on his trip north and all the damage he had done.

"Good job Gino," said Marchesi as he handed Gino an envelope stuffed with hundred dollar bills. "That should give those two something to think about. Busting up the cabin was a bonus. I had heard about the place years ago when Jimmy had gone up there for a visit, seems that camp meant a lot to them."

"Not much of a place," said Pizzuto. "More like an old shack."

"That's because you're used to the easy life my money helps you live," Marchesi laughed. "But to those yokels that camp was like a refuge, almost a spiritual place. You can bet we hit them right where it hurts. I would love to see their faces the first time they see their camp."

After he had trashed the cabin, Gino Pizzuto had taken some pictures and Marchesi chuckled as he flipped through them.

"What now Boss?"

"Lay low for a while," said Machesi. "I'm sure Troutman is sniffing around trying to find out who beat up his buddy and broke into the camp. I'm not finished with these guys, but for now, I'll let Rossi make them sweat. The lawsuit will be starting next week, and I plan to bleed the Herald and my two old friends dry. Maybe when I'm done I'll own that worthless camp and the land it squats on, then I'll burn it to the ground."

A short time later Marchesi was alone in his office. "Those two have just begun to feel my anger. After I break them financially, I am going after them and their families on a more personal level. They'll wish they had never violated our agreement." He picked up the phone and punched in his attorney's private number. "Charlie, give me an update on the lawsuit."

"I think we're in great shape," said Charlie Rossi. "I've lined up several expert witnesses, a noted psychologist who's an expert on psychotic behavior and the therapist you hired to help Jimmy and who'll testify to Jimmy's mental state. I also have an Ex FBI analyst who'll show how easy it is to falsify documents, like the ones Jimmy gave his sister."

"We also have several of the people he worked with and a couple of Jimmy's friends who'll tell the court about his outbursts, alcohol and drug problems. I even subpoenaed his sister Sara Upton. She will be a hostile witness, but she will have to take the witness stand and tell the truth about Jimmy's mental health battles and his attempted suicide a few years ago. Overall, we have a tight case. By the time we get through The Herald will have to file for bankruptcy and you'll end up a very rich man."

"I'm already a rich man, and you'll do alright with the twenty percent you'll get."

"You know Antonio," said Rossi, using Marchesi's boyhood name, "my standard fee is thirty percent."

"True, however you've never argued a case with this much money involved."

"Okay twenty percent plus expenses," replied Rossi.

Marchesi laughed. "Okay, you shyster, just get a judgment against the Herald, and I'll throw in a new Mercedes SLK. Now I got to run, I'm late for a golf date."

Chapter Seventeen

Lawyering Up

A few days later and hundreds of miles North, Ted and Rick were on a speakerphone in Ted's office. On the other end was Michael Watkins, the Herald reporter and his editor Richard Jewells. "The trial starts Monday," explained Jewells. As you know, we have gone through the discovery process and have filed three motions to have the case dismissed. Unfortunately, the judge denied those motions."

"Does that mean we're in trouble?" asked Rick.

"Not at all," replied Jewells. "It's standard procedure for a defendant, that's us, to file for dismissal of some or all of a lawsuit. As I said before we have experienced lawyers who have successfully defended us in the past. However, this is not going to be an easy case. According to our attorneys, Marchesi's lawyers have a string of experts who will testify on Jimmy Francis's mental instability. However, our legal team has prepared a case and plan to use the mental illness angle to our benefit; we are confident that we have a good chance at winning this one. Did you get your plane tickets?"

Ted spoke up, "We got the plane tickets yesterday. So we'll see you next week."

"Right," said Jewells. "Akari, my assistant will pick you up at the airport and take you to the hotel. She is Japanese American and will have a sign that says "Ted & Rick."

"Thanks, Richard," said Rick. "And a special thanks for picking up the lawyer fees."

"No problem, the paper is morally and legally obligated, just pray that we win."

"I will," said Rick, "And thanks again."

"That will take a load off Ann's mind," said Ted. "She was ready to take out a second mortgage."

"Yeah," said Rick. "Lawyer fees alone can run into the tens of thousands of dollars. The Herald must have some pretty big pockets."

"Our pockets aren't as deep as they once were," said Jewells. "But we have lawsuit insurance; it's like a general liability coverage protecting us from just such a lawsuit."

"Sure hope you win this," Ted said. "I would hate to see your insurance premiums if you lose."

"That makes two of us," agreed Richard Jewells. "Take care and we'll see you soon."

Ted hung up the phone, looked at Rick and said: "I get a feeling that this case is going to be a lot tougher than Jewells thinks."

"I agree. But hopefully, the Herald's lawyers are no pushovers."

"Do you think our testimony will make a difference?" asked Ted.

"Hard to tell, all we can do is tell the truth and let the jury decide."

"I don't expect we'll be saying anything about the killing or Marchesi's black market operations."

"No!" said Rick. "We didn't discuss it with the lawyers, and I have no intention of bringing it up now."

"You know buddy if we did say something about what happened in 'Nam', it would blow Marchesi's defense to smithereens."

"Maybe, but unless things start to go against us I'd just as soon keep what happened in 'Nam' our secret."

"Ok, brother," replied Ted.

Just then, Rick's cell began buzzing. Rick looked at the caller ID and said, "It's Gunny." Ted leaned back in his chair with a grin on his face as Rick said, "Gunny how are you?"

Gunny's voiced rasped over the phone. "I'm heading over for my rehab session now. The young therapist is pretty, but tough; she'd make one Hell of a drill sergeant. I'm still having some back issues, so my doctor wants to do one more of those MRI's tomorrow morning."

Rick and Ted laughed. "Well, you certainly sound better than the last time we talked."

"Yeah I'm getting better, except for the pain in my back side. Speaking of which is Doughboy there?"

Rick laughed again and said, "Yeah, he's right here?"

Gunny's voice boomed over the speaker. "Well, tell him to put down his donut. I got some work for him."

Ted looking like he wanted to spit nails said, "Doughboy, donuts? I'll have you know I've lost five pounds."

"Way to go muffin! It's good to see that I'm finally getting through to you. Now listen up, do you remember I said I had some buddies in Miami who might be able to help us?"

"Yeah we remember," said Ted.

"Well, they got back to me a couple of hours ago. It seems there's a lot of talk about this lawsuit. They said that the police and the district attorney are not sure the Herald's going to win this one."

"The problem is the DA wants to go to the grand jury and indict Marchesi, but she's not sure there's enough evidence to back up Jimmy's documents. She is delaying getting the grand jury involved until after the lawsuit. If the Herald wins, she will go forward with the grand jury. However, if the Herald loses, she'll have to come up with more evidence before she can go to the grand jury."

"The word on the street is Marchesi has lawyered up. His attorney Charlie Rossi is sharp. Rossi has assembled a tough team to back him up. Your buddy Marchesi is bragging how one way or another he's going to bring the Herald to their knees."

"Something tells me," said Rick, "that he'll come after us one way or another."

"You're right," said Gunny. "Hey Ted, while you've been sleeping I think I found out who suckered punch me and trashed your camp."

Ted quickly sat up. "I'm all ears Gunny."

"The guy's name is Gino Pizzuto, a small time hood who masquerades as a private eye. Marchesi has used him before, and word has it he returned from a trip north with money to burn."

"What does he look like?" asked Ted. "Dark hair about five ten, broad shouldered, muscular build, he likes expensive clothes and cheap women if you know what I mean."

"Yeah we know," said Ted. "He matches the description one of my deputies got from the desk clerk at the Comfort Inn here in town. According to him, a person matching that description checked out of the motel a couple of days ago before your mugging.

He registered under the name Louis Angelo. I contacted the rental agencies at the Manchester airport, and a guy using that name rented a Grand Cherokee just like the one the desk clerk said this Angelo was driving."

"Good, glad see you have been working," said Gunny. "I'd like to get Mr. Angelo or Pizzuto or whatever he calls himself alone in a room for five minutes."

"Best if you let the authorities take care of him," said Ted. "I'll contact the Miami police. They will keep an eye on him. This isn't the first time he's been on their radar. I will need more proof before I can charge him with anything. Too bad the mugging happened in such a dimly lit area. Next time don't be walking around by yourself late at night."

"Don't be telling me where and when I can walk!" Gunny shouted.

"Yeah, okay Gunny," said Rick. "We just want you to be careful."

"I am careful," Gunny snapped, "and as soon as I'm out of here I'm looking up my old friends Smith & Wesson. Oh here comes my therapist, I'll see you boys soon." The phone went dead.

Ted looked at Rick and said, "That's all we need, Gunny playing cowboy."

"I think he's just letting off some steam; he'll settle down once he gets home. Let's plan to give him a visit this weekend. I think if we keep him in the loop, he's less likely to go off half-cocked."

"Sounds like a plan. Now if you excuse me, despite what Gunny said, I do have some work to do."

Chapter Eighteen

Welcome to Miami

A week later found Ted and Rick pushing through the crowd at The Miami Airport. Rick was glad he lived in a small town. Ted, feeling the same way turned and said, "Haven't seen this many people in one place since the Bo Sox's won the World Series in 2004."

"Yeah," agreed Rick. "I don't like traveling."

They descended the escalator to baggage claim, pick up their suitcases and scanned the area for their ride. "Over there," said Ted, waving to a young professional woman holding a sign that read Mr. Troutman and Mr. O'Neil. Walking over Ted said, "Hi I'm Ted the good looking one, and this is Rick."

Laughing the woman said, "I'm Akari. I'll take you to your hotel." Turning Akari walked briskly to the exit with Ted and Rick hustling to keep up. They stepped out of the airport and into the hot, humid Florida weather.

"Whoa," said Ted. "It's a lot warmer than I expected."

"Yes," said Akari. "It is unusually hot for December. However, it is supposed to cool down by the weekend. Akari walked over to Red Cap guarding a Jaguar XJ8L, slipped the man a fiver, and said, "Thanks Billy for keeping an eye on the Jag."

The Red Cap tipped his hat and said "My pleasure Akari, I know how much Mr. Maxwell loves this car."

Akari laughed and said, "He sure does. This is only the second time I have driven it. The Lincoln's in the garage and this was the only other car available."

Ted and Rick placed their baggage in the trunk and settled into the rear seat of the Jag. Looking around the richly appointed Jaguar Ted said, "Man I always wanted one of these, but on a sheriff's pay the best I can do is a second hand Ford Explorer."

"I don't know Ted, a used Ford is more your style, besides I don't think the Jag's built for the bumping along old logging roads."

"Probably right, still it would be fun just to drive one down North Conway's main drag. I bet within five minutes the selectmen phones would be ringing off the hook complaining about how much money they're paying me."

Akari looked in the rearview mirror and said, "Mr. Jewells, Mr. Watkins and their lawyers have made dinner reservations at a local restaurant for seven o'clock. I will pick you up at six thirty that will give you gentlemen time to unpack and a couple of hours to rest.

"Thank you Akari, we'll be ready," said Rick.

The big Jag pulled in front of the Hampton Inn & Suites. Ted and Rick got out of the car, retrieved their suitcases and followed Akari into the hotel. By the time the men caught up with her, Akari had their room keys in her hand. Giving one to Rick and the other to Ted she said, "Here are your keys. Mr. Troutman, you are in room 712 and Mr. O'Neil you have number 714. Both boys said thank you as Akari continued, "The Herald has a corporate account with the Hampton, so all charges will be billed directly to the paper." Next, she handed them her business card. "If there is anything you need don't hesitate to call me."

"Thanks again," said Ted. "We'll meet you in the lobby at six thirty."

"That's correct Mr. Troutman."

"Please," said Ted, "Call me Ted. Of course, Mr. O'Neil here is much older than me, so you probably should call him by his last name."

Akari laughed. "Okay Ted and then smiling at Rick she said, "Bye Rick." Ted and Rick watched Akari walk back to the car.

"Makes me wish I was thirty years younger," said Ted.

"Watch yourself," said Rick. "I don't want to go back and tell Ann what a bad boy you were."

"I thought what happens in Miami stays in Miami."

"Come on Ted, I'm tired and would like to take a short nap before dinner."

"Okay, old man," chuckled Ted as they headed for the elevator and their rooms.

Seven o'clock found Ted and Rick standing at a table in a private dining room of the Chart House. Richards Jewells was making the introductions. "Gentleman, let me introduce Ted Troutman and Rick O'Neil. Ted and Rick this is Warren Everett and Russell Maxwell our attorneys and two of the toughest sharks in the tank." Everyone laughed at the joke as Ted and Rick shook hands with the lawyers. "And of course you know Michael Watkins."

Rick said, "It's great finally to meet you and Richard."

"Good to meet the two of you," said Michael Watkins extending a hand. "I hope you had a smooth flight down and your rooms are okay."

"Oh they're more than okay," said Ted. "They're very nice, thank you, and Akari is a terrific driver and guide. She gave us a quick tour of Miami before bringing us to the restaurant."

"Good I'm glad you like her," said Jewells. "She'll be joining us shortly."

"Joining us?" asked Ted.

"Yes, Akari works for our law firm," said Warren Everett. "She's a paralegal and very smart. She's also one of our senior partner's daughters."

"Oh," said Ted sounding surprised.

"You'll have to excuse Ted," said Rick. "He's not very politically correct; he still thinks women should stay at home."

The men laughed as Ted turned red. "Not true," Ted complained. "I have a female deputy sheriff, and my daughter is a doctor."

Jewells smiled and motioned to the empty chairs. "Have a seat guys." Ted and Rick sat down and took in their beautiful surroundings. Chart House Restaurants pride themselves on not only great seafood, but also spectacular ocean front views, and the Miami Chart House was no exception. From their table, in a small but tastefully appointed private dining room, the men could see the Key Marina and Biscayne Bay.

"Nice restaurant," said Rick.

"Yes," said Richard Watkins. "They have great seafood, and I thought it would give you and Ted a good view of Miami as well as give us a chance to get to know each other."

"I can tell you this is a far cry from North Conway," said Ted. "I spoke to my wife just before coming over here, and they're expecting some snow tonight."

"You won't have to worry about that here," said Warren Everett. "It's supposed to stay in the mid-seventies through the week. Unfortunately, you have to spend most of your time with us lawyers. We will try to carve out some time for you to take in the sights. Is there anything in particular you would like to do?

"The one thing, Rick and I would like to do is some fishing."

"No problem," said Richard Jewells. "A friend of mine runs a small charter. It is just five minutes to the dock from your hotel. Let's see Monday what your schedule will be."

"That'll be great," said Ted. "I was down here fishing years ago. We had a lot of fun catching Sailfish, Wahoo, and Dolphin."

"Well you're smack dab in the middle of some of the best fishing for miles around," said Russ Maxwell. "Of course we don't have any of those beautiful Rainbow Trout like you do in New Hampshire."

"You'll have to come up to North Conway around the first week in June, that's when the Mayflies hatch and the trout fishing is spectacular."

"I would like that," replied Maxwell.

"Great," said Ted. "Come on up next spring, and we'll give you a guided tour of our secret fishing spots. We'll even spend some time up at camp and try our luck fishing for wild bookies."

"That'll be great," said Russ Maxwell.

Just then, Akari walked in and sat down. She nodded to everybody and then opened up her brief case and took out a small laptop. Ted looked at Akari and then at Richard and said, "Well I guess its back to work."

"I'm afraid so," Watkins replied."

As we discussed, tomorrow you'll be spending time with Warren and Russ going over your testimony."

"When will we take the stand?" asked Ted.

Russ Maxwell cleared his throat. "Barring any unforeseen delays you should testify Monday. What we would like to do tonight is just get a quick outline of your involvement with this Jimmy Francis and Anthony Marchesi.

If you don't mind Akari will take some notes, then we'll go over everything again tomorrow and from there work on your testimony."

"Okay by me," said Ted and turning to Rick said, "How about you Rick?"

Rick looked up from the menu and said, "Yeah might as well."

"Here come's the waiter," said Richard Watkins. "Let's order and have dinner; then we can go to work." Ted and Rick ordered the Red Snapper while the others order a mix of seafood and steak. They had a leisurely dinner spending time getting to know each other, talking about fishing, Miami nightlife, and sports. By nine thirty, the group left the restaurant. Akari had transcribed about an hour's worth of Ted and Rick's relationship with Marchesi and Jimmy. Ted and Rick agreed to meet again at nine the next morning in Warren and Russ's law offices.

Monday morning found Rick and Ted sitting in the front row with Akari. Separated by a wooden rail, Warren Everett and Russell Maxwell along with Richard Jewells were sitting at a long mahogany table facing the judge's bench. A bailiff stood just to the right of the door leading to the judge's chamber. Southern District Court Chief Judge Nancy Endicott was the presiding judge. She had a solid reputation as a fair-minded judge but one who was by the book and who strongly opposed any grandstanding in her court.

To the right was the jury box where twelve jurors sat waiting for the lawsuit trial to begin.

Anthony Marchesi as the plaintiff sat at the table to the right of the Herald's. He was leaning back in his chair looking smug as his two lawyers bent over their files and laptops. Marchesi glanced back at Ted and Rick, flashed a toothy smile and slowly shook his head.

"Marchesi looks pretty pleased with himself," Ted said as Marchesi leaned forward and spoke to his lawyers. Rick did not say anything, so Ted continued. "We haven't seen him in over forty years, but I would recognize him anywhere."

Rick let out a long slow breath. "I would love to get him alone in a room for five minutes."

Ted looked at Rick, the veins on Rick's neck stood out, and he was clenching his fists. "Easy big boy, don't give him the satisfaction of seeing you sweat."

Rick looked at Ted. "Yeah you're right; I just hope we come out on top."

Ted was about to reply when the bailiff in a deep baritone voice said, "All rise, the Southern District Court of Florida is now in session, Chief Judge Nancy Endicott presiding." Judge Endicott entered the courtroom and quickly took her seat behind the bench. Judge Endicott laid a thick file in front of her, then glancing slowly around said, "Be seated."

For the next hour, the judge established the trial procedures and both sides gave their opening statements. Warren Everett presented the Herald's case, while Charlie Rossi presented Marchesi's. For Ted, who in his role as sheriff and a state trooper had testified in numerous cases, the proceedings were nothing new. However, for Rick, whose only experience in a courtroom was a DWI charge some thirty-eight years ago the maneuverings of the lawyers and the judge's instructions were fascinating.

During the lunch recess Ted, Rick, Richard Jewells and the lawyers hunkered down at a table in a nearby restaurant. "Sorry guys," said Warren Everett. "I'm sure today's proceedings seem kind of boring."

"No worries," said Ted.

"And how about you Rick, do you have any questions?"

"Well, Marchesi's lawyers seem to be building a pretty strong case against the validity of Jimmy's documents and the state of his mental health."

"That's to be expected," Warren said. "We're ready with our own expert witnesses, who'll pick apart their expert's testimony."

"Okay, but what about the claims that Marchesi paid for Jimmy's rehab not once but twice, how will that influence the jury?"

"I'll let Russ answer that one," responded Warren, "he's the expert on jury psychology. "

Russ Maxwell looked up from his notes, and said, "Our position is that Marchesi knew full well that Jimmy had problems. These problems were a direct result of years of drug and alcohol abuse fueled by his guilt at having to do Anthony Marchesi's dirty work. We will show proof that Marchesi supplied Jimmy with drugs and only sent him to rehab when Marchesi became concerned that Jimmy may expose his illegal operations."

"Is that where Jimmy's Sister Sara will testify," Ted asked.

"Yes, and she'll also talk about Jimmy's overall state of mind. In addition, we have located two of Jimmy's ex-girl friends who will also support our claim that although Jimmy occasionally battled with substance abuse, he was rational and sane. They will also testify that Marchesi was supplying Jimmy with drugs, especially heroin."

"Good for them," Ted said.

Everett continued, "We also found a man by the name of Manny Lathrop. It seems he had dealings with Marchesi years ago. Mr. Lathrop and Mr. Francis were in rehab together and struck up a friendship. This Lathrop claims he has firsthand knowledge of Marchesi's illegal operations. If he checks out his testimony could be critical to our winning this case."

Rick looked at the lawyers and asked, "I'm new to all this. How will the trial proceed from here?"

Russell Maxwell put down his BLT, took a drink of water and said, "The plaintiff will present their case first. Based on the number of witnesses it will probably take the rest of this week. Next Monday should be your turn. We had Akari book your flights. We want to thank you for all you have done and will do to put Anthony Marchesi away for a very long time. By the way, Richard and I have a little surprise for you."

Ted and Rick looked over at Richard Jewells, who was wearing a big grin. "We figured you guys wouldn't mind a break. I contacted my friend Tommy Myers or "Captain Tom" as he likes to be called. He said the fishing is hot right now, and he has two open spots on his boat. Akari is going to be busy, so you will need to take a taxi from the hotel and be at Haulover Park Marina on Collins Ave by seven AM. Here is the address and his cell phone number. He is a retired fire captain, and his boat is the called the Fireman's Delight. Better give yourselves about twenty or twenty-five minutes to get through rush hour traffic. The boat leaves at exactly seven fifteen, whether you're there or not."

Now it was Ted and Rick who wore the grins. Both men nodded and Ted said, "Wow thanks, you bet we'll be there!"

"My pleasure guys," replied Richard. "With any luck, we'll be joining you tomorrow night for grilled fish, and Margarita's on the Fireman's fantail."

Just as everybody was enjoying the image of grilling fish, cold drinks and a setting sun the mood suddenly changed as Anthony Marchesi's voice boomed across the restaurant. "There they are my two old war buddies."

Ted and Rick turned and watched as a red face Marchesi stormed through the crowded restaurant with his lawyer Charlie Rossi struggling to keep up.

Warren Everett quickly whispered. "Let Russ, and I do the talking."

Marchesi loomed over the lawyers with a look of contempt and began berating Ted and Rick. "You two, after all these years, you have the nerve to show up here and join the Herald in slandering my good name."

Rick began to rise from his seat, but Ted put a hand on his shoulder and Rick settled back down.

Warren Everett stood up and ignoring Marchesi said to Charlie Rossi, "Counselor you really need to caution your client. Outbursts like this could be seen as threatening and certainly won't help his case."

Charlie Rossi put a restraining hand on Anthony Marchesi's arm. "He's right Antonio, let's find another restaurant."

Marchesi took a long hard look at Ted and Rick and said, "You're right Charlie something does stink, reminds me of dead fish." With one last menacing look, Marchesi and his lawyer walked out much to the relief of a nervous Maître d'.

"Well that's enough to spoil your appetite," said Ted. "Man Rick, I thought you were going to punch Tony."

Rick's face flushed, and it took him a minute to reply. "Give me five minutes alone with him, that's all I'll need, just five minutes."

"Look, guys," Warren said. "He's just trying to get under your skin. Let us handle him in court. I promise we'll make him squirm."

Finally, Warren looked up and smiling said, "The rest of the afternoon is going to be pretty boring, why not take the afternoon off, relax at the hotel's pool and enjoy your fishing trip tomorrow. "

"Sounds like a good idea," Ted said. "I do have some sheriff business to take care of, and a trip to the hot tub would be nice. How about you old buddy?"

"Yeah, I guess so. I missed my run today, and I haven't been in the gym since we left New Hampshire."

"Good," said Warren, as he gestured to the Maître d'. "Yes, Mr. Everett?"

"William, please call a cab for my friends."

"Yes sir, Mr. Everett. I'll have one ready in five minutes."

"Thank you, William," Said Warren Everett as he pressed a twenty-dollar bill into the Maître d's hand. The men stood and shook hands. "Enjoy yourselves; we'll update you tonight and keep you in the loop when you get back to North Conway," Warren said. Ted and Rich each expressed their appreciation and headed for the door.

Warren turned to Russell Maxwell and Richard Jewells and said, "I didn't want to say anything, but there seems to be some bad blood between Marchesi and our friends. I'm guessing that whatever it was happened a long time ago. We all know Anthony Marchesi's reputation, and it would not surprise me if he tries to intimidate Ted and Rick.

Richard Jewells shook his head, "Something tells me those two don't frighten very easily."

"I agree," added Russell Maxwell. "For all his ole' boy humor Ted's a respected sheriff, and Rick doesn't impress me as someone you would want to mess with."

"Just the same," said Warren, "If it's all right with you Richard, I'd like one of our P.I.s to keep an eye on Ted and Rick while they are here in Miami."

"Okay," said Richard Jewells. The men then finished their lunch and headed back to the courtroom.

Ted was relaxing in the hotel's hot tub when Rick stepped in and eased himself down into the steaming water. "Feels good doesn't it?"

"Yeah sure does," said Rick.

Ted let out a sigh and said, "A guy sure could get used to this kind of life. Maybe I should look into moving Ann and me down here and setup my own private investigation business."

Rick, who had closed his eyes, opened them, a smile curled up on his lips as he said, "Yeah that'll be the day you can talk Ann into leaving New Hampshire."

"I suppose your right. She likes being close to the grandkids. However, I think I can talk her into spending a week or two down here next winter. I spoke to the Concierge, and he said he could put me in touch with a realtor that rents out cottages on the beach."

"Well, I'm sure she'll like getting away from the cold and snow at least for a little while," Rick said.

Ted looked over at Rick, who had just closed his eyes again. "Well did you work out all your anger on the punching bag?"

Rick slowly opened his eyes, stared into space for a moment then answered, "It'll take more than a few minutes hitting that bag to work out forty years of anger. I'm still debating whether to tell Warren and Russell about our little secret."

"What good would that do?" asked Ted. "This lawsuit has nothing to do with what happened in Vietnam."

"Oh yes, it does. If the jury knew the truth about Tony, his black market operations, and the murder, it would change everything."

Ted stared back at Rick: "Do you want to go there? How many years did you spend in counseling? How many times did I pick you up drunk and let you stay at camp? How many sleepless nights did we spend going over and over the murder? Didn't we resolve this years ago, didn't we agree that the past is the past and we needed to get on with our lives?"

"Yeah, we did and thanks to you and Ann it's been a pretty good life. But in the dark of night when I can't sleep those demons start whispering in my ear, and I think the only way to rid myself of them is to stand up and tell the truth and the hell with the consequences."

Ted sighed, "Well if you feel this is the only way you can finally find peace, then I'll back you 200%."

"Thanks, Ted and thank Ann for me. I know I'm not the only 'Nam Vet' scarred by that war. Some guys never got over the death and destruction and the way they were treated after returning home."

"You're right about that. I was just reading about some "Nam" Vets developing cancers forty years after their exposure from Agent Orange. Long ago, I decided that I would not let the war and the scars define me. I would not use the war as an excuse for my failings. However, neither can I ignore what happened over there. Somehow, by the grace of God, I had survived when some of my brothers did not. Now I feel it's time to finally finish the healing, even if it means opening up old wounds."

"We all have our scars, Rick. We all have wounds that will never heal. It's just that some of us hide it better than others, that's all. You know I always looked at my Dad and how he lived his life after coming home from World War II. Compared to what he went through on Iwo Jima, my nine months in 'Nam' was a cake walk."

Rick nodded and said. "I always admired your Dad. He joined the Marines, at what seventeen, fought on Saipan and was wounded on Iwo. They patched him up, and a few weeks later, he's storming the beaches at Okinawa. They simply don't make men like that anymore."

"Yeah, Dad's the one who introduced us to Gunny. Dad was a Marine right to the end, and I suspect that now he's guarding the gates of Heaven."

"I feel sorry for the Devil if he ever tries to sneak past your Dad," Rick said. They both raised their drinks in a toast to Ted's father.

"Rick, do me a favor, before you tell your story to the lawyers give the Reverend Matthews a visit. Gunny and The Rev helped us through some pretty dark days."

"I love the Rev, and I guess I should pay him a visit. I just know he'll chew my butt off because I haven't been to church in a couple of years."

"Yeah," agreed Ted. "He probably will, but you'll see him, promise?"

"Okay, I'll give him a call as soon as we get back." With that, Ted and Rick spent a few more minutes in the hot tub before heading back to their rooms for a shower and a quick nap.

Chapter Nineteen

Moment of Truth

Reverend Jonathan Matthews rose at the sound of the knock, picked up his cane and walked across the living room. Opening the door, the Reverend laughed and said, "Well, well look who's knocking on my door."

"Good morning Rev."

"Hello Rick, come on in." Rick entered the hallway and smiled. There hanging on the wall was a picture of Rick, Ted, Gunny and Reverend Matthews. The men were holding a string of brook trout, and each man wore a huge grin.

"Still have that old picture."

"Absolutely, it's the only proof I have that I caught most of those fish."

Rick laughed, "You know Ted has bragged for years about how he out fished us."

"Ted's just a big wind bag. If I remember right, he caught two or three little ones, and we caught the rest."

"You're modest; I recall you catching not only the biggest but the most."

"Well, I had a little help from the man upstairs; remember it was Jesus who told Peter to cast his nets on the other side of the boat."

Rick smiled. "Are you saying you got a little heavenly help?"

"Well let's just say that when I was saying my morning prayers, I got a strong feeling about fishing up above that old beaver dam."

"Guess I should pray more."

"You know Rick a little prayer never hurt anyone. Now tell me what brings you by today?"

Rick sat down in an old stuffed chair, paused for a moment then looked up at the Reverend and said: "I need some advice."

"I understand you want to awaken those old demons."

"How did you know?" asked Rick.

"The Gunny called me a few days ago and filled me in on what you and Ted have been up to."

"That saves me from repeating myself. So Rev what do you think I should do?"

The Reverend leaned back in his chair, closed his eyes then leaning forward and looked at Rick, and said: "Rick you have always been a good man, a man who strives to do the right thing. Do you remember what I told you years ago when you were wrestling with your demons and doubting your faith?"

Rick nodded, "Yes I remember. You said Jesus loves me and through his sacrifice on the cross, he freed me from my sins. You also encouraged me to find my purpose in life, something that would have a positive impact."

"Yes, and you went back to school, got your degree and spent thirty-five years teaching. Think of all the men and women who are better off today because of you."

"But what does that have to do with my involvement in the killing?"

"Nothing and everything; Rick you have lead a good life, and you can be proud of your accomplishments. What happened in 'Nam' in no way reflects on you and the man you have become. From what you and Ted have told me neither one of you could have stopped Marchesi from shooting that man. But in my opinion, your silence over the years has eaten at your soul and like a cancer needs to be cut out if you ever expect to heal."

"Now you are at a crossroad trying to decide which direction you should take. Whichever choice you make has consequences not only for you but also for those closest to you. You could remain silent and let the legal system deal with Marchesi or come forward with your story and seal his fate. I cannot tell you which road to take, that decision is yours and yours alone to make. I do know that you'll never find peace until you put this dark chapter in your life to rest once and for all."

For a long moment neither man spoke. Finally Rick said, "I know only I can make this decision and I'm really torn about whether my coming forward with Marchesi's black market operation and the murder of that Vietnamese will have any real impact on this trial. The Miami Herald believes they have a strong case. However, Marchesi has money and powerful friends. Over the years, though his charitable donations he has created this public image of a successful and generous benefactor, that has got to have some influence on the jury. In addition, he will use all his power, money, political, and any legal or illegal means to win this lawsuit. I guess my thoughts are to keep my mouth shut as long as things are going in our favor."

"My deepest concerns are for Ted and Ann. They have stood by me all these years and together with you and Gunny have kept me from going off the deep end. I would hate for any harm to come their way because of my testimony. Gunny has already been beaten up, and our cabin trashed."

"So have you spoken to them about telling your story?"

"Yeah, I have, and they will back whatever decision I make."

"Would Ted testify about the killing even if you decide not to?"

"No, Ted decided long ago that what happened in 'Nam' wasn't our fault. He feels the man probably was working both sides of the war selling drugs to us and guns to the enemy. According to Ted, it was just a matter of time before someone shot him."

The Reverend Matthews slowly shook his head and smiled. "Ted always had a simple way of looking at things. It's probably what has kept him from suffering any after-effects of the war."

"Yeah," agreed Rick, "That and his sense of humor."

The Reverend chuckled quietly and said, "Rick, search your heart and pray for guidance. Your wavering back and forth is kind of like a car stuck in a rut. The only way forward is to get out and push. It is time Rick for you to stop spinning your wheels and move forward with your life. There is a reason why after all these years you are now in this position. I will say a prayer that you choose wisely.

Now I'm afraid I have a luncheon date with some of the ladies of the church, and I don't want to keep them waiting."

With that, the Reverend Matthews rose from his chair, picked up his cane and walked Rick to the front door. Opening the door, Matthews shook Rick's hand and patted his shoulder. "Take time Rick to be still and listen to your heart."

"I will Rev, and thank you. I'll be in touch."

"Our Sunday service starts at ten sharp."

"Okay Rev, no promises but maybe I'll see you Sunday." Rick walked to his truck. The Reverend Matthews shook his head slowly and offered a silent prayer.

Rick drove slowly through North Conway and instead of going home, he took a left down River Road. After about a quarter of a mile, he turned right into a small parking area just above the First Bridge. The bridge crossed over the Saco River and was a favorite spot for fly-fishing, kayaking and swimming. Jumping off the bridge was against the law, but jumping from the bridge into the icy cold water was also a required test of manhood. Something every local teen-age boy was expected to do as a rite of passage.

Rick parked his Jeep next to an old maple tree, got out of his truck and reaching behind the front seat, pulled out a small backpack. Slinging the pack over his shoulder, he began walking up the trail that paralleled the river. After walking about ten minutes, the trail entered the woods that now closed in on the river.

Walking into the woods muffled the noise from the nearby highway and before long, the only sounds were birds chirping and the roar of the river rushing over the rocks and tumbling into a deep pool. Rick sat down on a log and stared at the water. A slight movement on the other side of the river caught his eye. It was a young doe slowly picking its way along the riverbank. As Rick watched, the deer paused to nibble on some tasty greenery; Rick continued watching the deer as the animal made its way up the path. He envied the innocent nature of the animal wishing he could be like the deer living only for the moment with no worries about what tomorrow may bring.

Rick frequently visited this spot, sometimes to fish and sometimes because he needed a quiet place to clear his head. The flowing water and the stillness of the forest always had a calming effect on him. Rick thought about what Reverend Matthews had said and about Ted and Gunny. It all came down to this. "I'm the one who has to decide what action I should take. Ted had made up his mind years ago, putting Nam behind him and living his life without regrets. Gunny hardened by his experiences in two wars came from another generation, a generation that saved the world from Hitler and Tito, but also a generation that kept their emotions and thoughts close to their chest."

Rick felt that the Reverend would prefer Rick to open up about what really happened in Viet Nam, but would respect whatever choice Rick's made. Rick knew he was fortunate to have such good friends and advisors. He knew that the best thing would be to tell the truth, come clean with the killing and quietly accept the consequences. The only reason he hesitated was the effect this would have on Ted and Ann.

Ted would have to deal with the fallout once it became public that a trusted and respectable police chief had been involved in a murder. It was one thing to say that he would back whatever decision Rick made but quite enough to deal with the press and the public demanding his resignation. The last thing Rick wanted was to harm Ted and Ann. However, was he using the possibility of bringing harm to them the reason he kept quiet or was it his moral weakness?

What if Marchesi won the lawsuit, if he did, it would financially crush Ted and Ann. Worse than financial ruin was the prospect of Marchesi free to continue his illegal operations and expand his wealth and influence. There was also Marchesi's son and Anthony Junior's political plans. Rick was sure he was that Marchesi was planning to use his son's election as another stepping stone in Marchesi's rise to being a major player in national politics.

Rick sat for a few more minutes. Finally, his mind made up, Rick walked back up the trail to his truck. Anyone who had seen him enter the woods and now saw him would think that they were seeing two different men.

The person who walked slowly into the woods was in marked contrast to the man who walked swiftly and confidently out of the woods.
Chapter Twenty

Truth and Consequences

Ted was at his desk early trying to catch up on the mountain of paperwork that was part of being the Chief of Police. He looked up and groaned as Rick walked into the office with two cups of coffee. Without a word, Rick sat one of the cups in front of Ted and sat down. "If anyone else had walked into my office without knocking, I would have thrown them out! Can't you see I have work to do? Unlike you, I have a job and responsibilities. I don't have time to wander around coffee in hand, pestering honest working folk."

Rick grinned, even when mad Ted was a hard person to take seriously. He might be able to scare the beans out of underage boys caught drinking, but Rick saw through his tough guy façade.

"I made a decision, and I wanted you to be the first to know."

Before Ted could answer, his cell phone began ringing. "Hold that thought," he said as he picked up the phone.

"Good morning Warren. Yes, Rick's right here. Let me put you on speaker phone."

Warren Everett's voice sounded a little tired. "Gentleman our case has taken a direct hit."

Rick stared at Ted. "How so?" asked Rick.

"You remember Manny Lathrop? He met Jimmy in rehab six years ago, and they had been friends ever since?"

"Yeah, we remember him," answered Rick.

"Well, the police found him floating face down in the inter-coastal canal."

The news of Lathrop's death stunned Rick and Ted into silence. Ted slumped back in his chair and said, "Manny Lathrop was a key witness."

"That's right," replied Warren. "His testimony provided the link we needed to prove Jimmy's allegations about Marchesi's illegal activities. Lathrop was a smalltime bookie who knew Marchesi back in the old days. Marchesi stuck him with five grand in gambling debts, which Manny had long ago written off rather than face Marchesi's wrath.

Meeting Jimmy in rehab had fanned his resentment of Marchesi, and he agreed to testify figuring at eighty years old there was not much Marchesi could do to him. Unfortunately, he was wrong."

"So they got to him and threw him into the canal," said Ted.

"There's no evidence that Marchesi was involved and the initial coroner's report indicates his blood alcohol level was twice the legal limit," explained Warren. "Lathrop kept a small Chris Craft at a nearby marina, and the police found an empty bottle of whiskey rolling around the deck. Everyone knew Lathrop was a heavy drinker and without evidence of foul play they will rule his death an accident."

"Well, that's sure convenient for our old buddy Marchesi," said Ted. "I bet Tony had his hired gun do the dirty deed."

"You're probably right, but there's nothing we can do but move on with our defense."

Warren replied, "Unfortunately Manny Lathrop was the only witness we had who could or would testify about Marchesi's illegal operations. I have asked the court for a three day delay so we can regroup."

"There's one more witness that's more than willing to take the stand," said Rick. Ted glared at Rick and slowly shook his head. Rick ignoring Ted continued, "Ted and I haven't told you everything about our relationship with Anthony Marchesi."

There was a pause, and then Warren Everett's voice took on a harder tone as he said, "Exactly what do you mean Rick."

Rick had practiced what he was going to say hoping to build his case for keeping the murder a secret, but instead, after stumbling over his words he blurted out. "Ted, Jimmy and I saw Anthony Marchesi kill a Vietnamese that he claimed was cheating our battalion on some supplies."

"Let me make sure I understand you, Rick. You're saying Anthony Marchesi killed a Vietnamese in cold blood, and you Ted and Jimmy were witnesses?"

"That's correct."

"And you three were the only ones who witnessed this murder?"Everett asked.

"That is correct."

"Does anyone else know about this?"

"Only our wives and a couple of close friends,"

"How about the authorities did the Navy or Vietnamese ever conduct an investigation?"

"Not to our knowledge," said Rick.

"So for over forty years you four kept this murder a secret?"

"Yes."

"Did Marchesi threaten you or paid you off?"

"No," replied Rick.

"Then why did you keep it a secret?"

"Look Warren, the war was winding down, and our battalion was heading home in a few days. We were just kids. Tony convinced us that the guy was dealing with the Viet Cong. We know what we did was wrong. We knew Marchesi was operating some kind of black market side business and that the murder had nothing to do with battalion's supplies. Back then, it just seemed easier to go along with Tony. For all we know the Vietnamese probably was dealing with the enemy.

Ted interrupting said, "We all just wanted to go home, and one more dead Vietnamese didn't seem to make much difference. Little did we know that this murder would haunt us for the rest of our lives. It drove Jimmy to drugs and alcohol and probably contributed to his suicide. This killing has eaten at Rick for decades, and although he likes to play the tough silent type, I know it's taken a toll on him. We know we made a terrible mistake, but now we're ready to try and correct it."

Warren's voice came over the phone a little softer now, "And what about you Ted?"

"Well Warren truth be told, one of the reasons I got into law enforcement was because of what happened in Nam. I mean at the time all I wanted to do was come home, work on my Dad's dairy farm, drink beer and eat ham sandwiches. If anything positive came out of the war and this killing, it's that it made me realize there was more to life than drinking and carousing. You can count on me to support Rick and to testify about the murder."

Rick looked at his friend and slowly mouthed, "Thanks."

"Okay," said Warren. "This does change things. I am sure you are aware of the consequences and the cost this testimony will have on your lives. It could cost you your job, Ted."

"We're aware of that," replied Ted. "But sometimes you just have to tell the truth no matter what the cost."

"Okay, I'll need full accounts from both of you. Akari will call you tomorrow and take your statements. I need to meet with our team and plan the best way to use this. I'm sure Marchesi's lawyers will try to have this thrown out as immaterial and not relevant to the lawsuit, but we can craft a strong argument in support of this testimony."

"We'll do whatever we have to," said Rick. "Now that the cat is out of the bag, I'm going to enjoy watching Tony squirm."

"This may be the break we need to win this lawsuit and bring Anthony Marchesi's empire tumbling down."

"There's something else you should know," said Ted "We believe that Tony has a hired gun, and that he beat up our buddy Gunny and trashed our camp."

"Boy, you guys are just filled with secrets. When did all this happen and why do you think Marchesi is involved?"

Ted filled Warren Everett in on the details including Pizzuto's name and a description of the man. When Ted and Rick had finally stopped talking Everett asked, "Is that all? Are there are any more skeletons I need to know about?" Both Ted and Rick assured Everett that they had told him everything.

"Okay listen, Akari will call tomorrow and record your statements. I will also have her book your flights down here. I want to make sure we present it to the court in a way that will ensure maximum impact."

The call ended. Both Ted and Rick felt emotionally drained. Rick looked over at Ted and said, "I can't help thinking that if we had done the right thing back in 'Nam' and reported Tony to Captain Franklin, Jimmy would still be alive and Tony would be serving a life sentence in some federal prison."

"We can't change the past. Let's just focus on the present and make damn sure we win this lawsuit, and the DA has enough evidence to go after Tony and shut him down for good."

At eight o'clock, the next morning Ted and Rick were in Ted's home office. Sally had just walked out after leaving a pot of coffee and some freshly baked muffins on Ted's desk when the phone rang. Ted hit the speaker button and said, "Good morning Akari, how's the weather down in Florida."

"Oh, good morning Mr. Ted, the weather is beautiful, sunny with a slight breeze and about sixty degrees now with a high of seventy-eight."

"Well, that sure beats six inches of snow and a high of ten degrees."

"Ten degrees, I'm glad I live in Florida," laughed Akari. "Mr. Everett asked me to call and get a statement about a murder. Is Mr. Rick there?"

"Right here Akari."

"Okay, I'm turning on the recorder. " Akari's voice sounded somber as she said, "The following statements are being recorded on January 7th two thousand and ten. Mr. Richard O'Neil and Mr. Theodore Troutman present, Akari Hirano recording."

"Okay gentleman, please tell me about this murder."

Ted and Rick spent the next hour relating the events leading up to the event, the actual killing and the agreement the four of them made to keep it a secret.

Finally, Akari turned off the recorder. "Thank you; I believe we have everything Mr. Everett needs. I will book the two of you on a flight out of Manchester to Miami on the ninth. Mr. Everett plans on having you take the stand on the tenth."

"Well Buddy," said Ted. "I'd love to see the look on Tony's face when he hears the news."

Saying nothing, Rick stood, and walked over to the window. After a few minutes, he turned around and said, "It's been a long time coming and I know this won't be easy, but I haven't felt this good in years."

Chapter Twenty-One

Trial and Error

The Boeing 737 touched down at Miami International. Akari was waiting at baggage claim as Ted and Rick collected their bags. Ted smiled and waved as he saw Akari standing off to the side of the baggage carousel. "There she is our personal guide." Akari smiled and walked over to Ted and Rick.

"Mr. Ted and Mr. Rick, so glad to see you again, please follow me."

The men followed Akari to Everett Warren's Jaguar and loaded their bags into the trunk, then Rick and Ted settled into the rear seat as Akari swiftly maneuvered the big Jag out of the airport and headed to downtown Miami and their hotel.

Glancing in the rearview mirror, she smiled and said, "Mr. Everett and Mr. Maxwell send their apologies; they had planned to have dinner with you tonight but decided to work on your case instead. They would like to meet with both of you tomorrow morning at nine. I will pick you up at eight thirty and drive you over to their offices."

"That will be fine Akari," replied Rick. "We're a little tired. Ted and I will order room service and have an early night. From what Warren said over the phone, tomorrow will be a long day."

"Unfortunately, that is correct; we will be burning, as you say the midnight oil."

"So I guess another fishing trip is out of the question?" asked Ted as he winked at Rick.

"Oh, I am afraid so Mr. Ted. Maybe after the trial, you and Mr. Rick can come down for a few days."

"We would like that," said Ted. Akari dropped them off in front of the hotel. As planned Ted and Rick ordered room service, and sat on their beds eating burgers, drinking a bottle of beer and talking about their upcoming testimony.

The next morning, as promised, Akari was waiting in the Jaguar as Rick and Ted walked out the front door. "Good morning gentlemen," said Akari as the men sat down.

"Ted looked at Rick and then at Akari and said, "I guess we must be in the wrong car. This young lady was expecting gentlemen, not a couple of ornery old bums like us."

"Oh, Mr. Ted always with the joke, I hope you and Mr. Rick had a good night's sleep?"

"I slept like a baby. But my partner spent the night pacing the floor."

"I'm so sorry Mr. Rick, your bed not comfortable? I can have the hotel change the mattress."

"No Akari," said Rick. "The bed and the room are great. I guess it's just nerves."

"Not to worry, Mr. Everett and Mr. Maxwell are excellent lawyers. They have worked very hard preparing for your testimonies. All you and Mr. Ted have to do is tell the truth."

Rick let out a sigh and said, "Yes Akari the truth, that's just what we intend to do. It has been a long time coming. It'll be a relief to get it all out into the open. I'm not concerned about my testimony as much as the consequences."

"You know what Gandhi said about speaking the truth?"

"No, I don't."

Akari looked into the rearview mirror, fixed Rick with her eyes and said, "Truth never damages a cause that is just".

Rick stared back at Akari smiled and said, "Thanks, Akari those are wise words."

"Your cause is just Mr. Rick, and we will win this case, and justice will be served."

Akari pulled the Jag out of the hotel driveway and quickly drove through the morning rush hour traffic dropping Ted and Rick off in front of the building housing the law offices of Everett and Maxwell.

"I'll park the car and join you in the conference room 305 on the third floor," said Akari as Ted and Rick exited the car.

Rick and Ted walked into the swinging doors and crossed the lobby to the elevators. They entered the elevator, punched the button for the third floor and the offices of Everett and Maxwell.

As the doors slid shut, Rick turned to Ted and said. "I wish I could be as confident as Akari,"

"Yeah Pal I know," said Ted. "But she and Gandhi are right; our cause, it is just."

"Well, I guess with Gandhi and Akari on our side we can't lose." Ted hit Rick on the shoulder almost knocking him into the elevator doors.

"That's the old can do spirit!

Rick barely recovered from Ted's enthusiastic punch when the doors slid open and deposited the men into the law office's lobby. They walked to the receptionist's desk and announced their names and the receptionist immediately escorted Ted and Rick into a large conference room. Inside the room were four men and one middle-aged woman. The men were wearing dark suits with matching power ties and the woman had on a navy blue jacket and skirt with a white blouse, all five had somber looks on their faces.

Warren Everett smiled slightly as Rick and Ted walked into the room. Warren rose, shook their hands and turning to the table said. "Gentlemen, we're glad you're here. You, of course, know my associate Russell Maxwell and Richard Jewells of the Miami Herald. I also asked Florida State Attorney General Alice Cameron and Deputy Attorney General Marvin Bates to join us."

Attorney General Cameron smiled and said, "Truth be told gentleman we insisted on being present. This case is a very high profile one considering Mr. Marchesi's wealth and influence. We are here to assist and also to gather information pertinent to us if we decide to bring criminal charges against Anthony Marchesi."

Ted and Rick nodded in agreement and took their seats next to Warren as an assistant brought in a cart containing a coffee pot and pastries, as well as water bottles, fruit juices and a basket of fruit.

"Please, help yourselves," said Warren. "Akari will be here shortly, and we can begin."

Then turning to Ted and Rick, he said, "Gentlemen, the purpose of this meeting, as you know, is to review the testimony you will be giving tomorrow and to prepare you as much as possible for the cross examination. But first I want to update everyone on trial and where I think we stand."

"As you know from our phone calls and emails, we have presented the documents Jimmy had left in the deposit box. Of course, Marchesi and his lawyers have claimed that the documents were forgeries and or taken out of context. They further state that Jimmy was mentally unstable and for reasons known only to him forged these documents. Rossi and his team have presented credible expert witnesses who testified that Jimmy could easily put these documents together and that he certainly had the access and the ability to create them."

"Of course we have countered with our own experts. However, our read of the jury is that if the case was sent to the jury today, it could go either way. Your testimony is even more importantly, as it will provide a motive for Jimmy's actions. More important Ted and Rick taking the stand give us the background information we need supporting our claim of Marchesi long history of criminal actives. Charlie Rossi, Marchesi's attorney, is as tough as they come. He's smart, shrewd and relentless and will try every trick in the book to trip you up."

Attorney General Cameron took off her glasses looked at Ted and Rick and said, "The State of Florida has been trying for a long time to nail Anthony Marchesi. Because of his connections to powerful people and his ability to cover up his illegal activities, we have never been able to convict him. Your testimony is not only vital to successfully defending the Herald from Marchesi's law suit; it will give my office the evidence we need to close Marchesi's down for good."

Ted looked up from his coffee and said, "I've been on the witness stand many times in trials ranging from grand theft to first-degree murder. I think I can handle this Rossi character."

Warren Everett smiled and said, "Your experience in testifying will certainly help. Remember you are not taking the stand as an expert witness or as a respected law enforcement officer. It is going to be your word against Marchesi. Rossi will come at you with both barrels blazing. He will attack your character and your memory. Forty years is a long time. All of you were young men fighting in an unpopular war. Do not be surprised if Rossi drags up your military records and possibly even witnesses to discredit your testimony. I believe he may even bring up Rick's alcohol abuse and PTSD."

"What the Hell do my drinking and mental problems have to do with this? That was a long time ago, and I've been sober and sane for well over thirty years!"

Rick's sudden outburst brought a long silence. Warren Everett stood to put a hand on Rick's shoulder and said softly, "That's just the reaction Rossi will try to get out of you. You are going to have to remain calm and let Russell and I handle Rossi. The whole point of this meeting is to prepare you for the worst, so none of us will be caught off guard tomorrow."

Rick looked at Maxwell, and then the rest of the people gathered around the conference table. "I'm sorry for the outburst. It won't happen again."

"No need for an apology Rick. It is going to be tough and I can guarantee that before it is over, there will be more than one outburst. The trick is to have the other side blow their cool more times than our side." Maxwell Everett turned as the door opened and Akari walked in with her laptop. "Ah here's Akari. Now we can get down to business."

With that, Rick sat down. Ted poked him in the ribs with his elbow lean in and whispered in Rick's ear. "Easy does it, big guy. Just relax this is going to be fun."

Rick gave his friend a weak smile and shook his head. "Leave it to Ted," he thought, "Only he would think this was going to be fun."

They spent all day prepping Rick and Ted's testimony, stopping only for bathroom breaks and a quick catered lunch. The morning session focused on Rick and Ted's statements. The afternoon Warren Everett and Russell Maxwell took turns grilling Ted and Rick. Several times Rick and even Ted could feel their tempers rise as the lawyers fired one question after another trying to confuse and trip up the two men. Occasionally Warren would call a halt and review the line of questioning. As he explained, "Whatever we throw at you today is nothing compared to what Rossi and his team have up their sleeves for you in court."

"Remember to keep your temper, stay calm, and answer slowly with conviction. Keep your eyes on Russell and me, we will object when necessary and will try to defuse Rossi. I always tell my clients to speak the truth and let us deal with the legalities."

The State DA had left at noon, but her assistant stayed until they wrapped up at seven in the evening.

"That's it for today," announced Warren after a heated cross-examination of Rick. "I've had my secretary call for a cab to take you back to the hotel. I am afraid that Akari, Russell and I have a few things we need to go over before calling it a night. Akari will pick you up at seven-thirty tomorrow morning and drive you to the courthouse. I know this has been a grueling day and I appreciate your understanding and patience. Try to get some rest. I believe we have done everything we can do to prepare you for your testimony and cross-examination. Again thank you and we'll see you bright and early at court."

With that, the meeting broke up. Ted and Rick headed down to the lobby and the waiting taxi. Riding back to the hotel Ted was uncharacteristically quiet. Rick just stared out the window, the same question kept going though his head. Would Marchesi get off scot-free as he had in the past or would the jury rule against him?

The taxi pulled up in front of the hotel. As Ted and Rick headed for the hotel's entrance, they noticed two men approaching them from the right. Both men had the build of defensive linemen, who had retired years ago from the NFL and who had put on a few pounds.

"Looks like trouble," said Ted turning to face the approaching men.

One of the men looked at the other and laughed. "Gunny was right these two are hard to miss."

The other man grunted in agreement and extending a hand said, "My name's Frank Ashley, and my ugly partner here is Ed Flint. Gunny asked us to stop by and introduce ourselves."

Ted looked at Rick in surprise, and then shaking his head extended his hand and said, "Gunny did say he had a couple of old buddies in Miami who might look us up."

The men shook hands, and Rick said, "How do you know the Gunny?"

Both men shared a laugh and Frank said, "Gunny was our Master Sergeant when Ed and I were in the Corps. Can't say we liked him much at first, he was the toughest, meanest SOB we had ever met, but he whipped our company into shape and saved our sorry butts more than once. After the Marines, we joined the Miami police force. Ed and I owe Gunny our lives and would do anything for him. Gunny called, told us about the mugging and asked us to keep an eye on the two of you. We retired a couple of years ago from the force and have some time on our hands, so we said we'd be happy to watch your backs."

"Guys," said Rick, "This really isn't necessary. Ted and I can handle ourselves."

Ed smiled and said "Look we're sure you can. But, you know the Gunny, orders are orders and there's no way we're going to disobey him."

Frank nodded in agreement and added, "The fact is gentlemen, Anthony Marchesi is one nasty piece of work. He has ties to the Miami Mafia that go way back. His dad was a two-bit crook, and did odd jobs for Antonio Alessio. Alessio had his fingers into everything from prostitution to drugs, gambling, illegal arms sales you name it. Young Anthony grew up running numbers for Alessio, and when he came back from Nam, suddenly he was elevated to one of Allesio's main men. We have been trying for years to nail him, but he's always been able to get his cases thrown out of court."

"Over the years he has gone legit, or so he says. He used his ill-gotten wealth to fund honest businesses and buy powerful friends. If you mentioned his name to the average person on the street, they'll say what a great humanitarian he is and probably could mention three or four charities he sponsors. Now, why don't we go inside, Frank and I would like to buy you two a drink and compare notes about Gunny."

At that Ted and Rick laughed and Ted said, "After the day we had a drink or two sounds great, plus we loved to know if all the stories Gunny has told us about his exploits or true or not."

Frank smiled and said, "Oh believe me with Gunny the truth is stranger than fiction."

The four men walked into the hotel. From a parked car across the street, Gino Pizzuto put down his camera and picked up his cell phone. He dialed a number and when Marchesi answered said, "Bad news Boss. It looks like O'Neil and Troutman have some friends down here."

Chapter Twenty-Two

To Tell The Truth

Akari was waiting outside the hotel as Ted and Rick emerged at seven-thirty sharp. Rick was feeling a little groggy after spending a couple of hours with Gunny's friends, Ed and Frank. They had shared stories about Gunny, and the two ex-cops had filled them in on Marchesi's recent activities. Now Rick wished he had drunk ice tea instead of beer.

By contrast, Ted was upbeat and whistling as they slid into the back seat and Akari pulled the Lincoln into traffic. Rick was envious of Ted's stamina and positive attitude wishing he could be as upbeat. Ted had slept all night soundly, but Rick had walked the floor until finally collapsing in bed around one thirty.

Ted looked around the Lincoln winked at Rick and said, "Akari what happened to the Jag?"

"Oh, Mr. Everett decided to drive it to the court house today."

"So Rick and I have to slum it in this car?"

Akari looked in the rear view mirror, smiled and said, "I know you are joking Mr. Ted."

Ted laughed, "You know me too well Akari." Ted smiled at Rick who smiled back at Ted's attempt to lighten the mood.

Akari expertly maneuvered the big car through the morning traffic and dropped the men off in front of the courthouse. "I have to park the car. We are in conference room 102. Mr. Everett and Mr. Maxwell are there and wish you to meet with them before going into the courtroom. Judge Endicott likes to start on time, so we have about twenty minutes before the trial begins. I'll park the car and join you in a few minutes."

Ted and Rick got out of the car and walked up the steps of the Miami-Dade County Courthouse. The courthouse built in 1928 was at one time the tallest building south of Baltimore and was still an imposing structure. Following the signs, they passed through security and proceeded down the hall to room 102.

Attorneys Everett and Maxwell sat at a small conference table hunched over a laptop while one of their paralegals worked the keyboard. Also at the table were Jewells and Watkins from the Miami Herald.

Warren Everett looked up as Ted and Rick walked into the room. "Good morning gentlemen, have a seat. Russell and I are just going over some last minute details. We'll be going into the courtroom in about fifteen minutes."

Ted and Rick nodded to the men and sat down. The solemn expression on the faces of the lawyers and Jewells and Watkins kept even the talkative Ted quiet. A couple of minutes after Ted and Rick entered the room, Akari came in dragging a two-wheeled cart loaded with file boxes. She smiled at Ted and Rick and set the boxes down near Everett and Maxwell.

"Thanks Akari," said Russell, who looking at his watch said, "We have a few minutes. Let's go over a couple of things we thought of after you left last night."

A few minutes later Akari said, "Gentlemen it's show time."

The lawyers gathered up their notes and laptops. Warren walked over to Ted and Rick smiled a tight smile shook their hands and said, "Well this is it. Remember what we talked about last night: Speak the truth, stay calm and let us run interference."

Ted and Rick shook their heads in affirmation and followed the lawyers into the courtroom taking their seats just behind the lawyers.

At exactly eight-thirty, a side door opened and a very large bailiff stood and in a deep bass voice said, "All rise, the Miami-Dade Superior court is now in session, the Honorable Judge Nancy Endicott presiding." A small petite brunette, in black robes quickly walked into the courtroom and stood for a moment behind the bench slowly scanning the room and fixing her eyes on the lawyers. Judge Endicott then sat down, and the bailiff said:" You may be seated."

Judge Endicott looked at Anthony Marchesi and Charlie Rossi then at Warren Everett and his team. "Gentlemen, we have reached a point in this trial where both sides have presented numerous witnesses and evidence in support of your clients. Mr. Everett, you have two more witnesses you wish to call to the stand is this correct?"

Warren Everett rose and said, "Yes your honor we plan to call Mr. Richard O'Neil and Mr. Theodore Troutman to the stand."

"And will that conclude your case?" asked Judge Endicott.

"Yes your Honor,"

The judge then focused on Charlie Rossi. "And you Mr. Rossi?"

Charlie Rossi stood, smiled and replied, "At this time, your Honor we have no more new evidence. We do however reserve the right to cross examine and recall witnesses based on the testimony of defendant's new witnesses."

Judge Endicott nodded in agreement, "Of course." The judge paused and added: "Gentlemen as you know we will have a shorten session today, so I would hope we can conclude this stage of the trial and move to closing arguments tomorrow morning."

Both lawyers nodded in agreement and said, "Yes your honor."

"Very well Mr. Everett, you may call your first witness."

"Thank you, your Honor. The defense would like to call Mr. Richard O'Neil to the stand." Rick rose from his seat, looked at Ted who grinned, and slowly walked to the witness stand. The Bailiff swore him in, and Rick sat down.

Warren Everett walked over to Rick and said, "Mr. O'Neil, for the record, please state your full name."

"Richard Joseph O'Neil."

"Thank you, now Mr. O'Neil, please tell us how you know Mr. Anthony Marchesi."

Rick glanced over at Marchesi, who stared back, "He and I served in the same U.S. Navy "Seabee" battalion from May 12, 1971, to September 30, 1972."

"Thank you, Mr. O'Neil, for your service." Rick simply nodded. "Please describe your relationship with Mr. Marchesi during this period."

"He was on my cleaning crew at our home base, Davisville, Rhode Island. Later Mr. Marchesi was a member of the same fire team. I was the team leader, and Tony was a rifleman."

"Can you describe for us the function of a fire team?"

"A fire team is a unit of a rifle squad. There are usually four fire teams per squad. Each fire team is made up of four men."

"Thank you, and as the leader of this fire team Mr. Marchesi was subordinate to you?"

"That's correct."

"How would you describe Mr. Marchesi's service while he was a member of your fire team?"

Rick paused for a moment, "Well, Tony and I didn't get along very well."

At this, Charlie Rossi stood up, "Objection your Honor, my client is proud of his military record. He was honorably discharged, and I see no basis for this line of questioning."

Judge Endicott looked at Warren who said, "I'm trying to establish the connection between Mr. Marchesi and Mr. O'Neil your Honor."

"Very well, but let's wrap this line of questioning up as quickly as possible."

"Yes your Honor, thank you. Now then Mr. O'Neil, you stated that you and Mr. Marchesi didn't get along very well."

"Yes, He was always looking for a way out of his duties."

"I see, and by duties, you mean duties or assignments that were assigned by you for him to perform?""That's correct."

"And did this interfere with the operation of the fire team? I mean you were in a Vietnam, did Mr. Marchesi's neglect of duty put the team in danger?"

Again Rossi rose to his feet, "Your Honor, I strongly object, my client served with honor. There is absolutely nothing on his service record that indicates he ever shirked his duties."

"Objection sustained, Mr. Everett I think you have established the fact that Mr. O'Neil and Mr. Marchesi both served together. Please move on to another line of questioning."

"Yes, Your Honor." Turning back to Rick, Warren Everett continued, "After you were deployed to Vietnam did Mr. Francis and Mr. Marchesi continue as fire team members?" asked Warren.

"No," answered Rick, "after we arrived in Vietnam, Tony and Jimmy were reassigned to clerical positions."

"Do you recall what their duties were?" asked Warren.

"Yes, they handled the paperwork, ordering supplies, payroll, and security, medical and preparing meals for the battalion. Tony and Jimmy worked in supplies ordering construction materials for the various jobs."

"And how well did they perform these duties?"

"Objection Your Honor," shouted Rossi, "Mr. O'Neil is not qualified to report on my client's performance, while he was a member of the headquarters unit."

Judge Endicott took off her glasses, stared at Mr. Rossi and said, "Objection sustained, but I'm cautioning you Mr. Rossi, please refrain from shouting."

Charlie Rossi bowed his head slightly and said, "Yes your Honor, I'm sorry."

The Judge then turned on Warren Everett. "Mr. Everett, I fail to see where this line of questioning is going. Mr. Marchesi's military service seems to me to have no relevance in this case except to verify the relationship between you, Mr. Francis, and Mr. Troutman."

Everett walked over and stood in the middle of the courtroom. "If it pleases your Honor, we are attempting not only to establish the relationship between these men, but also show how James Francis became involved in Mr. Marchesi's shall we say sideline businesses."

Again Rossi rose and addressed Judge Banks, "Your Honor, we acknowledge these men served together in Vietnam. We also recognize that James Francis and Anthony Marchesi struck up a friendship, which continued long after their military service was over. Mr. Francis was not only a valued employee but also a close friend of my client. Mr. Everett's reference to sideline businesses has no basis of fact, and we asked that it be stricken from the record."

At this, Ted laughed and everyone in the courtroom stared at Ted as he shook his head. "Order in the court shouted the Judge as she banged on her gavel. Any further outburst, and I'll have the Bailiff clear the courtroom!"

Judge Endicott continued, "I agreed with you Mr. Rossi, and so order the reference to sideline businesses removed from the court transcript, and I advise the jury to ignore this term."

Charlie Rossi smiled and said, "Thank you, your Honor."

Judge Endicott turning toward Everett said, "Mr. Everett, this line of questioning is getting us nowhere. You heard the Plaintiff's lawyer, Mr. Rossi admits to his client's relationship with Mr. Francis and Mr. Troutman. I see no reason to continue and again strongly advise you to change the direction of your questioning."

"Your Honor," replied Warren. "The whole basis of this lawsuit filed by Mr. Anthony Marchesi is that the records and documents found after Mr. Francis' death were forgeries concocted by Mr. Francis."

"I'm trying to establish, that James Francis was involved with Anthony Marchesi from the very beginning and that he had access to private information, and in fact carried out many tasks for Mr. Marchesi that was of an illegal nature."

Judge Endicott took a long time before replying then lifting her head said, "Mr. Everett, I'm going to rule that the court has already heard much testimony about Mr. Francis and Mr. Marchesi's relationship. Both you and Mr. Rossi have presented witnesses who testified about the validity of the documents. So unless you have new evidence directly relating to this case, I ask you to conclude the questioning of this witness."

"Your Honor, I do indeed have new information that will shed light on not only Mr. James Francis' state of mind and Mr. Marchesi's illegal business operations, but also the reason for why Mr. Marchesi was able to keep all this hidden for so long. With the court's indulgence, I will quickly wrap up this witness's testimony."

The judge sighed and said. "Very well you may proceed."

"Thank you, your Honor."

"Mr. O'Neil, while you were in Vietnam, did you witness anything that leads you to believe that Mr. Marchesi was engaged in illegal activities."

"Yes, I did."

"Please tell the court about these activities."

Rick took a deep breath and replied, "Well he always seemed to have plenty of money and enjoyed special privileges."

"Please be more specific."

"We usually had Sundays off, and somehow Tony always had access to a vehicle and would go to China Beach."

"How was that unusual?" asked Warren.

"Unless you were on official business, only officers and chiefs were allowed vehicles for personal use."

"Okay, and did you accompany Mr. Marchesi on these Sunday drives?"

"Yes, I did."

"And where did you go?"

"We usually went to China Beach.

"China Beach?" asked Warren.

"Yes," replied Rick. "China Beach was the military's In-Country Rest & Recreation camp. Kind of like a resort where we could go and relax."

"Okay, go on."

"Once Tony, just before we shipped back home, took us to a private club in DaNang."

"A private club?"

"Yes, only civilians were allowed into the club, you know private contractors and businessmen."

"So how did you get into this club?"

"Tony had some business dealings with the owner."

"Did you know the nature of these dealings?"

"Not exactly, Tony claimed that he was on battalion business, but I don't think that was true."

Charlie Rossi rose from his seat, "Your, Honor" Judge Endicott looked over at Rossi and gestured for him to sit down.

Warren continued, "What made you suspicious?

"It just wasn't the way the battalion did business. Tony was always arguing with a man named Mr. Tran. Tony claimed he was cheating us out of some supplies. Also Tony had some of the guys ship boxes of things back to an address in Florida."

"How was this unusual?" asked Warren.

"Well each of us could ship one box of personal items back home, but not everybody did. So Tony would pay someone fifty dollars and give them a box to ship to Florida."

"Did you have any idea what was in the boxes?"

"No, but I heard that the boxes had a false bottom. Tony would put drugs or weapons in the bottom filling the rest of the box with cheap souvenirs."

"Okay so you never actually saw what he was shipping back, but because Mr. Marchesi could only ship back one box, the fact that he was enlisting others to ship back boxes for him lead you to believe something was not quite right."

"Yes, that is correct."

"Now, Mr. O'Neil," asked Warren please tell us about one incident that you did witness."

Tony looked at Warren then at Anthony Marchesi who glared back and finally at Ted who slowly shook his head up and down.

"I saw Tony shoot Mr. Tran and his driver; then I saw Tony and Jimmy put the bodies in Mr. Tran's car and push it into the river."

Rossi was on his feet yelling, "Objection! Objection Your Honor," as the courtroom exploded in chaos.

Judge Endicott banged her gavel, and again, shouting a warning for everyone to sit down and shut up. Finally, the courtroom settled back down. Charlie Rossi was still on his feet.

The Judge looked at Rossi and said, "Mr. Rossi your objection is noted. However, I am going to let Mr. O'Neil continue. You will have your opportunity to cross-examine him. Now sit down so we can continue."

As Rossi sat down, Rick glanced over, saw Tony lean back, and casually drew a finger across his neck.

Warren again addressed Rick, "Mr. O'Neil, please describe for us exactly what happened."

"It was a Sunday near the end of our deployment. Tony invited Ted Troutman and me to go with him and Jimmy to the private club. We didn't really want to go, but Jimmy pleaded with us, and we figured what the heck our tour is almost over, and if Tony was buying we might as well take advantage of it."

Rick paused, and Warren said, "Go on."

"When we got to the club, Tony said he had some business to take care of and for us to get a table. "

Warren, "Did you know the nature of Mr. Marchesi's business."

"No, and truth be told, we didn't want to know."

"And why was that?" asked Warren.

"Well as I said before, our tour was almost over, and we just wanted to go home. Whatever Tony was involved in didn't concern us, and I guess we wanted to keep it that way."

"Unfortunately," said Warren. "Like it or not you, Mr. Troutman and the late James Francis were about to get deeply involved in Mr. Marchesi's so called business; isn't that right Mr. O'Neil?"

"Yes"

"Mr. O'Neil, tell this court what happened next."

"We entered the club, sat down at our table and ordered some beers, about a half hour later Tony comes rushing into the club and says we have to leave."

"Did Mr. Marchesi say why you had to leave?"

"Something about a deal with a Mr. Tran gone sour,"

"Okay, what happened next?"

"Well, we left the club, got into the jeep and headed back to camp. Ted and I started asking Tony what all the rush was about, and he just said Mr. Tran owed the battalion money, but he wouldn't pay and that Tran threatened him."

"Go on."

"We drove out of Da Nang, and after crossing the river, we notice Tran's black Mercedes following us. Tran was flashing his lights and beeping his horn. Tony told Jimmy to turn off onto a side road. The road turned into a dirt path bordering a canal or small river. We stopped, and the Mercedes pulled up behind us. Tony got out and the next thing we knew somebody started shooting. When we looked back, Tran and his driver were dead."

"Did you see who shot first?" asked Warren.

"No, it all happened so fast." Tran and his driver both had pistols in their hands, and Tony said he shot in self-defense."

"Okay, what happened next?"

"Tony and Jimmy put the bodies back in the car and pushed it into the river. We stood there and watched it sink; then we drove back to the base."

"You didn't report this killing?"

"No"

"Why not?"

"Tony convinced us that Tran was dealing with the VC and that he cheated the battalion out of lots of money and supplies which he sold to the enemy. He made us promise to keep quiet and even offered a bribe promising us jobs in his dad's business once we got out of the Navy."

"So let me see if I got this right. Mr. Anthony Marchesi kills two men claiming they were cheating your battalion and dealing with the enemy. He and Jimmy Francis dumped the bodies in a river, and you all agreed to keep this a secret."

Charlie Rossi stood. "Your Honor, I have kept quiet during this testimony, but I have to object; my client isn't on trial here for some murder that supposedly happened forty plus years ago. I fail to see what any of this has to do with our lawsuit."

Judge Endicott nodded and said, "You make a valid point Mr. Rossi. Mr. Everett, the court has been patient with you and Mr. O'Neil. You have five minutes to wrap this up, and I strongly encourage you to tie this to your defense of the lawsuit, or I'll have the entire testimony stricken from the record."

Warren Everett looked at the Judge and said, "Yes your Honor and thank you." Turning to Rick, he asked, "How did this killing effect James Francis?"

"Well after we returned home Ted and me."

Warren interrupted, "You mean Mr. Theodore Troutman." "Yes," replied Rick.

"Okay please continue."

"Ted and I didn't have any contact with Tony, but Jimmy started working for him as soon as they got back."

"Didn't Mr. Marchesi offer you and Mr. Troutman positions in his organization?"

"Yes, but we didn't want anything to do with Tony or his organization."

"And didn't Mr. Marchesi also offer you and Mr. Troutman money to keep quiet."

"Before we left 'Nam' Tony tried to give Ted and me five hundred dollars each to keep our mouths shut."

Warren turned and looked at Charlie Rossi and Tony Marchesi.

"What did you tell Mr. Marchesi?"

"Both Ted and I told him to go to Hell. We had given our word. We didn't need or want his money."

"I see," said Warren Everett. "Did Mr. Francis take the money?"

"He did," replied Rick.

"And to the best of your knowledge, James Francis worked for Mr. Marchesi until the time of his suicide?"

"Yes," answered Rick.

"So let's wrap this up," said Warren. "During your tour in Viet Nam, Anthony Marchesi was involved in various activities that shall we say were not on the up and up."

"That's correct."

"The four of you, yourself, Mr. Troutman who is present today in court, James Francis who worked for Anthony Marchesi from the time he returned home to his suicide took a vow of silence concerning the killing of a Vietnamese, a Mr. Tran. Is this correct?" Asked Everett.

"It is."

"So it is fair to assume that after working for Mr. Marchesi for over forty years that James Francis knew everything there was to know about Mr. Marchesi's operations."

"Yes, I guess so."

"After returning home did you have contact with James Francis?"

"Yes, off and on over the years."

"And did Mr. Francis ever comment on his relationship with Mr. Marchesi?"

"Yes"

"Tell us about your conversations."

"At first Jimmy would brag about his relationship with Tony. How Tony took care of him and how he enjoyed driving Toni's cars and the nightclubs and all that. However, the last few years Jimmy always seemed depressed and unhappy. A couple of times he said he wanted to get away from Tony, but was afraid of what Tony might do if he left. One time he mentioned that he had enough stuff on Tony to put him away for a long time and maybe he should turn it over to the authorities."

"Did you give him any advice?" asked Everett.

"I told him to follow his conscience, and if he needed to get away from Tony he was always welcomed to stay at my house," said Rick.

"And did Mr. Francis take you up on your offer?"

"No, but towards the end, Jimmy seemed to be getting more and more depressed and paranoid. I think he was desperate and saw his situation as hopeless. I believe what happened in 'Nam' just ate away at Jimmy."

"So, Mr. Francis stole files and documents detailing Mr. Marchesi's illegal activities as a way of clearing his conscience, before committing suicide?"

"Yes guess you could say that."

"Thank you, Mr. O'Neil. I have no further questions."

Judge Banks addressed Charlie Rossi. "Mr. Rossi, do you wish to cross examine?"

"I do indeed," said, Rossi, as he rose from his chair and strode confidently over to Rick sitting in the witness chair.

Warren Everett and Russell Maxwell had coached Rick on what to expect, and Rick silently steeled himself waiting for the cross examination to begin.

Rossi stood in front of Rick and stared at him for what seemed like an eternity. Finally, Charlie Rossi smiled and said, "First of all, Mr. O'Neil, thank you for your service."

Rick caught a little off guard expecting Rossi to unleash a torrent of hard-hitting questions and could only mumble "Thank you."

Then Rossi looked at the jury as he said, "Mr. O',Neil isn't it true that you had a serious drug problem after returning home from the war?"

Rick managed a "Yes, but" before Rossi spun back to Rick and fired off a volley of questions.

"And isn't it true that you were in drug rehabilitation a couple of times."

"Yes"

"And isn't it true that your wife left you because of your drug habit."

"Yes"

"Also isn't it true that you receive a VA disability check, each month because you're suffering from PTSD?

Without waiting for Rick to reply Rossi asked, "Furthermore, isn't it true that you also attempted suicide?"

"Objection your Honor," shouted Warren. "Mr. Rossi is badgering my witness."

"Objection sustained. Mr. Rossi, please refrain from badgering this witness and let him answer your questions."

Rossi faced Rick, "So Mr. O'Neil, you started abusing drugs after returning from Viet Nam?"

"Yes," replied Rick. "But I went to rehab got myself clean, and I've been straight for over thirty years."

"Well good for you Mr. O'Neil. And what about your PTSD?"

"Yes I have PTSD, and I'm currently receiving disability from the VA."

Rossi continued, "Isn't it also true that Jimmy Francis had been in and out of rehab and that he also was receiving PTSD from the VA?"

Before Rick could answer, Warren Everett was on his feet. "Objection your honor, we have already confirmed that Mr. Francis had a drug habit and has PTSD."

"Mr. Rossi, Mr. Everett is right. It is time for you to take another line of questioning."

"Yes Your Honor," replied Rossi. 'Mr. O'Neil, before receiving these documents, did Mr. Francis ever mention that Mr. Marchesi was involved in criminal behavior?"

"Well not exactly," answered Rick.

"What do you mean not exactly?"

"Jimmy never came right out and said Tony was involved in criminal activity, but like I said earlier, Jimmy claimed he had some information on Tony that could put him in jail. Plus Jimmy was always bragging about Tony's cars, boats and lifestyle," answered Rick.

"So it is possible that Tony's lifestyle was a result of his success as a legitimate businessman?"

"I suppose."

"And based on your own experience with drug addiction and PTSD, isn't it also possible that Mr. Francis's claim that the information he had was legit was simply a fabrication of a troubled mind?"

Everett rose from his seat, "Objection Your Honor. My client is not an expert and therefore cannot comment on Mr. Francis' state of mental health. "

The Judge looked over at Everett, "Objection sustained.

"Then, I have no further questions at this time," Replied Rossi.

"You may step down Mr. O'Neil."

Rick was surprised at Rossi's quick conclusion to the cross-examination, and looked over at Warren Everett who merely shrugged his shoulders.

Rick took his seat, and the Judge asked Warren if he had any more witnesses. Warren informed the Judge that he did not. Ted, who was supposed to be Everett's next and last witness, started to say something, but a sharp jab in the ribs by Rick silenced him.

Judge Endicott spoke, "In that case, the court will hear closing arguments tomorrow. This court is adjourned." The gavel banged down and Judge Endicott rose and walked back to her chambers.

Ted rushed over to the lawyers, "Hey, did you forget about me?"

Warren looked at Ted and said, "No, we didn't, but both Russell and I feel that Rick's testimony was sufficient and it would serve no purpose to go over the same ground with you."

"But wouldn't my testimony support Rick's and help to convince the jury of the legitimacy of those documents?"

"Perhaps," replied Everett. "But it became clear as Rick's cross examination was going on that Judge Endicott was tiring of this line of testimony and I think we were beginning to lose the jury.

Russell and I believe we can use our closing arguments to reinforce our position and sway the jury to find for us."

"Okay Everett, I sure hope you're right."

"We'll see gentlemen, we'll see."

Chapter Twenty-Three

Settling Scores

Ted, Rick and the lawyers exited the courthouse and walked down the steps where Everett's Jag and a Lincoln Town car waited. Everett said, "Akari will take you back to your hotel. Russell and I have some last minute prep work, so we will take the Jag back to our offices. We'll meet at eight tomorrow morning in the same conference room we were in today."

They shook hands. Rick and Ted opened the back door of the Town Car and slid in. Fastening their seat belts Ted said, "I still think they should have let me testify."

"I don't know buddy," said Rick. "I guess we have no choice, but to trust their decision."

"Don't worry gentlemen," said Akari turning around. "Mr. Everett and Mr. Maxwell don't lose many cases. I'm sure they know what they are doing."

"Okay," Ted said.

Akari expertly drove through the rush hour traffic, cruising down Ocean Drive. They stopped at a red light and when it turned green slowly pulled away from the light. Rick started to say something when suddenly out of the corner of his eye he saw a garbage truck emerging from an alley.

"Look out," shouted Rick, as the large garbage truck headed straight for them. Akari looked to her left, saw the truck and screamed as she tried to steer away from it.

Akari's quick reactions saved them from being "T boned" by the eighteen-ton garbage truck. Instead, the truck hit the rear bumper spinning the Lincoln around one hundred and eighty degrees. The truck plowed through the intersection and drove down another alley. The garbage truck had managed to miss two other cars, but the spinning Lincoln had hit a small Prius sending the car skidding across the street and up onto the sidewalk.

The intersection erupted in a cacophony of squealing brakes and horns. Before Rick and Ted could recover, Ted's door flew opened, and Frank Ashley struck his head inside.

"You guys alright?"

Rick and Ted were wearing their seat belts, and only suffered minor bruises, "Yeah we're okay," said Ted. "How's Akari?"

Akari moaned softly, "She looks a little banged up," said Ed Flint. "Don't move Honey we called 911 and help is on the way."

Rick got out of the rear seat and slid into the front passenger seat. He gently touched Akari on the back of the head. Akari turned toward him, her face a mess of red marks with blood oozing from her forehead, nose, and mouth and said, "My hands hurt."

Rick looked at Akari's hands. "I think you a broke couple of fingers," he said as he cautiously dabbed at her bloody nose. "But your quick thinking saved us from a much more serious accident."

Akari smiled weakly and said, "I didn't see the truck until the last minute, are you and Mr. Ted okay?"

"We're okay darling," said Ted, as he climbed out of the back seat. "I hear the sirens in the distance. You just sit there and let the EMT's check you out."

Rick unfastened her seat belt and put his arm around her. Akari leaned into Rick's shoulder and closed her eyes. A few moments later the ambulance, fire truck and three police cars arrived. After determining that Akai suffered only minor injuries, they put a collar around her neck, placed her on a stretcher and loaded her into the ambulance.

Rick and Ted stood on the sidewalk with Frank and Ed as the police officer finished his report. "My partner's interviewed a couple of witnesses and based on everybody's account the garbage truck blew across the intersection, hit your car and then drove down the alley without slowing down or trying to avoid hitting you."

"Yeah," added Frank Ashley. "We were one car behind the Lincoln and that truck came out of nowhere, hit their car and just kept on going."

The officer looked up from his notepad and said, "From your description, there was no signage on the truck; nothing to identify whose truck it was."

"Correct," said Ed. "The license plates were covered with so much grease and dirt I couldn't make out a number. If you ask me this was a deliberate attempt to harm or kill these two gentlemen, who just happen to be key witnesses in Tony Marchesi's lawsuit against the Miami Herald."

The cop smiled, "That's one guy I like to see put away for a long time."

"You and me both," replied Frank.

The cop thought for a moment and said, "Doesn't Marchesi owns a waste disposal company?"

"Yeah he does," answered Ed.

"I'm thinking it might be a good idea to send a couple of detectives down to his place of business tomorrow and see if any of the trucks have been in an accident. Why don't you and Frank stop by the precinct tomorrow afternoon, we should have something by then."

"Will do," said Ed.

At that moment, Rick's cell began buzzing. Putting the phone to his ear, he said, "Hi Warren, yeah we're okay, but Akari's a little banged up. No one saw the truck until the last minute. Yeah, I agree. No, we have a ride to the hotel, but first Ted and I are going to the hospital and check on Akari. Okay, we'll see you there."

Turning to Frank and Ed, Rick said, "Can you give us a ride to the hospital?"

"Absolutely," replied Frank. "Ed and I will also take you back to the hotel, pick you up in the morning and bring you to court. In fact, until you leave Miami we're sticking to you guys like glue."

"That's not necessary," said Ted. "Rick and I can more than handle ourselves."

Frank and Ed smiled, and Frank said, "We know you can. As we said before, Gunny would have our heads if he heard we didn't keep a close eye on you guys. In fact, we'll probably get our butts chewed when he finds out about this little accident. You're doing us a favor by letting Ed and I hang around."

All four of them laughed at Frank's comment, and Ted said, "Say no more, I'd rather crawl across broken glass than face Gunny when he's mad."

The four men got into Franks car and drove to Mount Sinai Medical Center. Arriving at the Medical Center, they found Warren Everett already there sitting next to an older Japanese couple who turned out to be Akari's parents.

Warren made introductions, and Ted said, "Your daughter's quick thinking saved us from a more serious accident; how is she doing?"

Akari's father looked up and said, "We just talked to her. She's hurting, but the doctors have given her something to ease the pain. They believe she's broken a couple of fingers and maybe her right wrist. They are taking her over for an MRI, and we should know more soon. She's more worried about Mr. O'Neil and Mr. Troutman and the car than herself."

"I'm sure she'll be okay," said Warren. "When you see her tell her not to worry about the car and that Ted and Rick are fine. Also, tell her the firm will cover any hospital bills and to take all the time she needs to recover. In fact, tell her she has two weeks off with pay and more time if she needs it."

Akari's father smiled and said, "Thank you Warren."

Warren smiled back and said, "It's the least I can do. Now if you excuse us, I need a few minutes with Rick and Ted."

Warren motioned for Rick and Ted to follow him. They walked down the hall stopping at a large window that looked out onto the street. Warren turned and said, "Are you sure you two are okay?"

Both Ted and Rick nodded their heads and Ted said, "Yeah, we're okay."

"Good, who are those two bruisers you're with; they looked like a couple of tough characters.

Rick smiled and said, "Just a couple of ex-cops that a buddy of ours asked to keep an eye on us."

"Well, it looks like you're going to need a little protection after that accident. Now tell me exactly what happened."

Ted and Rick spent ten minutes describing the accident. They all agreed that the accident was more than likely a deliberate attempt by Anthony Marchesi to pay back the two men for their testimony.

Warren once again warned them to be careful, and the two ex-cops promised to pick up Rick and Ted at the hotel and deliver them safely to the courthouse.

The car turned into the hotel entrance and stopped at the door. Frank turned around and said, "Okay guys have a good night; we'll meet you right here at seven thirty sharp." Ted and Rick shook their hands and thanked Ken and Frank for their help.

The two men entered the hotel, rode the elevator to their rooms, saying good night promising to meet in the hotel's restaurant at seven the next morning for breakfast. Rick walked into his room tossed his jacket on a chair loosened his tie, took off his shoes and collapsed on the bed planning to lie there for a few minutes before ordering his dinner.

Several hours later Rick forced his eyes to open. Rick looked at the clock and sat bolt upright. "Two in the morning, I guess the trial and the accident took more out of me than I thought."

He rolled over and sat up on the edge of the bed. Every muscle and joint ached as he stretched trying to loosen up. Rick walked to the bathroom, he splashed cold water on his face and looking at his reflection in the mirror said, "Face it old man, you're not as young as you used to be, that accident shook you up."

Rick popped a couple of aspirin and stepped into the shower. He turned the water temperature as hot as he could stand and let the full force of the water massage his sore body. "I think a few minutes in the hotel's hot tub before breakfast is a good idea." Rick stepped out of the shower dried himself off and crawl back under the covers. However, sleep would not come. He finally got up; made himself a cup of coffee, sat down in a chair and watched FOX News until five AM.

At five, he put on his swim trunks, a sweatshirt, flip flops, and rode the elevator down to the hotel's pool. Walking into the pool area, he heard a familiar laugh and saw Ted soaking in the hot tub.

"Feeling a little sore Old Man?" chuckled Ted as Rick slowly lowered himself into the hot swirling water.

Rick looked over at his friend's smiling face and said, "Damn, it's tough to get old. I feel like someone beat me with a rubber hose. But I see you're no worse for the wear."

"Ha, behind this smile I'm crying in pain. I think that run-in with Marchesi's garbage truck caused more damage than we thought."

"Maybe we should go to the emergency ward and have ourselves checked out."

"What and sit around for hours? No thanks, a hot soak in this tub, some coffee, a bottle of aspirin and I'll be as good as new. Anyways we're due in court in a couple of hours."

"That's right; I hope Warren and Russell have saved something for their closing arguments. From what they were saying last night, the jury could go either way."

"I still think I should take the stand. I would hate to lose the case because I didn't get to testify."

"I don't disagree with you Ted, but we have to trust that our lawyers know what they are doing."

"Well, it's too late now. I'm taking a quick shower, and I'll meet you in half an hour for breakfast."

"Okay, see ya in thirty minutes."

Rick entered his room to the sound of his cell phone ringing. Walking quickly to the desk, he picked up the phone pressed the talk button and said, "Hello".

"Rick, its Warren; I trust you had a good night sleep?"

"Not really, I'm a little sore from the accident."

"Sorry to hear that, but you got slammed around pretty good."

"How's Akari?"

"She had a good night and was having breakfast when I called her this morning. She'll probably stay another day, just to make sure there are no internal injuries."

"Well, that's a relief. Ted and I will see you at eight."

"That's the reason for the call I'd like you two to get over as soon as possible, we have a new development, and I want to fill you in before the trial starts."

"A new development?"

"I got a call last night from a man by the name of Kael Tran. He claims he is the son of the man Marchesi shot in Vietnam. He says he has information that will confirm everything we have been trying to prove about Marchesi and his criminal background."

"That's great news. But I thought the closing arguments were today."

"They are, but I've already emailed Judge Endicott making her aware of this new witness."

"Okay, I'll call Frank and Ken. I'm sure they can pick us up early, and we'll meet you at the courthouse as soon as possible."

"Good, we'll see you soon."

Forty-five minutes later Ted and Rick walked into the conference room. Warren, Russell, Michael Watkins, Richard Jewells from the Herald and two of Warren's legal assistants were already there hunched over Warren's laptop. Warren looked up and said, "Have a seat gentlemen and thanks for getting here so quickly. I'll start by filling everybody in on the extraordinary events of the last twelve hours."

Warren reviewed the accident and brought everyone up to date on Akari's condition and the fact that the police were actively investigated this as an attempted murder.

Ted and Rick sat down, everyone expressed their thanks that Akari, Ted, and Rick suffered no major injuries.

Warren continued. "About seven thirty last night Russell and I were going over our closing arguments when we received a call from a Mr. Kael Tran. He claims to be the son of Ba Tran who ran an import-export business in Viet Nam. He says he had proof of Marchesi's involvement with his father and that his father's brother continued to deal with Marchesi after Tran's family escaped from 'Nam' and settled in Miami. His uncle died a few years ago. According to Mr. Tran, he has account books and ledgers detailing his uncle's illegal activities and Marchesi's connection to drug smuggling and illegal arms sales."

Ted's fist slamming on the table interrupted Warren and made everyone jump. "Man, that'll put the nail in the coffin for our old buddy," Ted laughed. Then looking around at the startled faces said, "Sorry didn't mean to scare everybody."

Warren laughed, "That's quite alright Ted. We all share your enthusiasm. I do however have to caution everyone. Judge Endicott first has to grant us a recess. The court's docket is heavy this session, and she will be reluctant to delay our case unless the reason and our evidence are sufficient to override any objections from Marchesi's lawyers. We also have to interview Mr. Tran, verify his information and prepare a line of questioning; all this takes time, and I don't think the Judge will give us all the time we need."

Rick looked at Warren and asked, "How much time are we talking about?"

"I already emailed Judge Endicott asking for a recess. I am assuming she will only give us three or four days. As we speak, Mr. Tran is meeting with our legal team in our office, so we're moving as fast as possible to investigate his claims and ensure his information is accurate."

The Bailiff opening the door and announcing the trial would begin in five minutes interrupted Warren. Warren rose, gathered his papers and said, "Well gentlemen let's hope Judge Endicott got a good night's sleep."

The men filed into the courtroom. Rick glanced over at the plaintiff's table Anthony Marchesi was leaning back in his chair arms crossed with a smile on his lips. "Well," Rick thought to himself, "We'll see if he's still smiling after Warren gets his recess."

Ted and Rick had barely reached their seats when the bailiff announced, "All rise, The Southern District Court is now in session, Chief Judge Nancy Endicott presiding." Judge Endicott entered the courtroom and took her seat. The courtroom was silent as the Judge shuffled some papers and looked at her computer screen. Clearing her throat, she said, "Mr. Everett, I received an email from you this morning requesting a recess based on some new evidence. Is this correct?"

Warren Everett stood, faced the Judge and said, "Yes, Your Honor."

"I'm sure you're aware that this court has a very heavy docket and that a recess this late in the trial would be highly unusual."

"Yes, Your Honor."

"Very well, please explain to the court what this new evidence is and why it justifies a recess."

"Your Honor, last night I received a call from a Mr. Kael Tran. Mr. Tran is the son of Ba Tran who Anthony Marchesi had dealings with in Viet Nam. Kael Tran claims he has information, documents and account books detailing illegal activities that Mr. Marchesi and Mr. Ba Tran were involved in from Marchesi's deployment to Viet Nam to 2003. This information provides a link from Anthony's Marchesi's illegal activities while in Nam to recent drug and arms smuggling. It also confirms the information which James Francis had acquired, and for which is the basis of Mr. Marchesi's lawsuit against my client the Miami Herald."

Judge Endicott took off her glasses and stared at Warren for a long minute before replying. "And how much time are you requesting Mr. Everett?"

"My legal team is currently interviewing Mr. Tran and going over the documents he has provided us. I believe a recess of seven days would be sufficient."

At this Marchesi's lawyer, Charlie Rossi stood, "Your Honor, I object."

Before he could continue Judge Endicott said, "Sit down Mr. Rossi. I am going to grant the defendant's request for a recess, but I am only giving him three days. This case will resume on Thursday, January 14th."

With that, the Judge banged down the gavel rose and left the courtroom. Standing as the Judge exited, Rick glanced over at Marchesi who glared back at Rick. A shudder went through Rick's body, and he thought, "Well that wiped the smile off his face, but judging from that glare there's going to be Hell to pay."

Warren Everett escorted his team back into the conference room. Shutting the door, he glanced around the room and said, "We just won one for our side, but we have a ton of work to do before our case reconvenes. I am confident based on the information Mr. Tran has given us so far that we will be able to tie Anthony's illegal operations to Jimmy Francis' documents.

The jury will have evidence and a preponderance of information that will convince them to rule in our favor."

Everyone nodded in agreement and shook hands. Warren walked over to Ted, and Rick smiled and shook their hands saying, "Gentlemen, we appreciate all you have done for us and sorry about the accident last night. You're welcome to stay until the trial reconvenes, but in all honesty, I don't believe we'll need any further testimony from either of you."

Ted looked at Rick smiled, and said, "Unlike my retired pal here, I have a job and if I want to get re-elected next year I better get back home."

"I agree," said Rick. "Despite the run in with that garbage truck, it's time for us to head back to North Conway."

"I'll tell you what, said Warren, "spend another night at the hotel. Get a massage, soak in the hot tub and I'll have my secretary book you on a flight tomorrow morning."

Rick rubbing his back said, "Thanks, Warren. I don't know about Ted, but I'll admit a day of rest sounds like a pretty good idea."

"Yeah," said Ted. "This old body doesn't bounce back as fast as it used to and I sure could use a massage to work out the kinks."

"Well it's settled then," said Warren. "I'll say good bye now, but we'll be in touch. Hopefully, we'll have a verdict by this time next week."

Ted and Rick said their goodbyes and walked out the door. Ed and Frank were waiting in the hallway. Rick filled them in on their decision to stay one more night and leave in the morning. Frank suggested they have dinner at one of their favorite steakhouses and share some more Gunny stories to which Ted and Rick readily agreed.

The four men walked out of the courthouse and entered the parking garage just as Marchesi were getting into his limo. Seeing Ted and Rick, Marchesi swore, picked up his phone, punched in a number and said, "Gino I need you here now!"

Chapter Twenty-Four

Final Showdown

After arriving safely back home, Ted went back to his sheriff duties while Rick started his part time job as a ski instructor at Cranmore Ski Area. The ski season was in full swing, and Rick quickly found himself busy in the ski shop scheduling classes and outfitting the tourist with the proper equipment.

Thursday, January 12th found Rick and Ted back at Marge's diner enjoying their coffee and pancakes.

"The trial should be starting at nine," Ted said.

"Yeah kind of wish I was there," Rich replied.

Ted stuffed a fork full of blueberry pancakes and maple syrup into his mouth, chewed for a moment and replied, "I know what you mean, but I couldn't take any more time off, you should see the pile of paperwork on my desk."

"I guess you're right; I have a full schedule of classes at Cranmore. Short-staffed as we are I couldn't let them down by taking more time off."

Ted sipped his coffee and said, "Warren has promised to keep us updated. He expects the trial to move right along and go to the jury by Friday."

Rick looked out the window at the diner's large thermometer, which read ten degrees above zero and said, "Miami seems a long, long way away from Conway. I sure hope we've seen the last of Marchesi."

"I agree the only time I want to see him again is when he's behind bars."

"Well, whatever happens, we did the right thing, and hopefully it'll give Jimmy's spirit some peace."

"You know Rick; I don't think we've heard the last of Marchesi. I got a call from the Miami Police department. A detective by the name of Scott Hillden says they have not found the garbage truck that rammed us, but the word on the street is that it was Marchesi's. Also, Marchesi's hit man Gino Pizzuto left yesterday on a flight to Boston. I'm betting he didn't fly up to Boston to see a Celtic game.

I have the word out, and hopefully, we'll spot him before he can cause any trouble. The state police have issued a warrant on Pizzuto for the mugging of Gunny."

"Do you think flying into Boston instead of Manchester is his attempt to throw us off?"

"Could be, from what I've learned about Pizzuto he has used disguises in the past. I wouldn't be surprised if he has altered his appearance. Of course, it's winter so he could easily conceal his face behind a scarf or wool hat."

"So I guess we keep our eyes open and our backs covered."

"Yeah and with that in mind, what are your plans for the day?"

"I'm driving over to Jackson and picking up some ski gear for the shop, and then I'm on ski patrol tonight."

"Okay, by now Pizzuto has had time to drive up here, so my guess is if he's going to do anything, it'll be sooner rather than later. Do me a favor, check in every once in a while and please carry that 9MM I issued you."

Rick saluted, smiled and said, "Yes sir."

Ted shook his head and said, "Look, this Pizzuto is a professional. He been implicated in a number of murders, assaults, etc. but none of them has stuck. He's not the kind of guy to make a mistake or give you a second chance."

"You're right. I have the pistol in my car. I promise to check in with you every couple of hours."

"Okay then, with any luck the state police or one of my deputies will spot him. But until they do, we have to consider that he's out to get us."

The two men walked out to their cars. Ted got into his cruiser and Rick headed north to Jackson in his Jeep.

The sky was crystal clear, the kind you only see in rural country in the dead of winter. According to the weather reports, the high today would only be in the low teens, and tonight the temperature would drop to ten below in the Valley and much lower up in the mountains. Rick made a mental note to tell his ski patrol team to check skiers for signs of frostbite and to post a warning on Cranmore's weather and ski condition sign. Turning off Route 16 onto Black Mountain Road, Rick was glad that the storm predicted for today had blown out to sea instead of dumping the eight to ten inches on the White Mountains. Rick's old Jeep Cherokee was a veteran of many winters and had never let Rick down, but with well over one hundred thousand miles on the odometer, Rick didn't like punishing it any more than necessary.

Like most secondary roads in rural New England months of snow, freezing rain and cold had created a layer of ice and salt on top of the black top. Despite the best efforts of the highway crews, this layer would stay on the road until spring, when potholes would form as the layer of ice several inches thick began to breakup. However, right now, the road was hard packed and heavily sanded with only a few icy spots on the sharp curves. The only vehicle on the road, Rick slowed down as he neared the turn off to their deer camp. The old unplowed logging road, which except for some old snowmobile tracks looked like no one had driven up it since winter began. Rick was thinking about improvements he and Ted would make once the road became passable around late April or early May. He continued daydreaming about the camp as he climbed the next hill.

Suddenly a black Suburban came around the curve, bearing down on Rick's Jeep. "What the," was all Rick had a chance to say as the big SUV slammed into the Jeep's rear end. Rick fought to control his vehicle as it swerved back across the road, dangerously close to the edge and the sheer drop off.

Rick struggling to get control of the SUV was able to pull back onto his side of the road. Again, the Suburban hit the Jeep. This time Rick lost control slamming through the plowed snow and burying the Jeep in a thicket of scrub pine trees. Rick's driver's, airbag exploded, stunning him. Recovering quickly, he looked in the mirror and saw the Suburban idling in the road behind him. The dark tinted windows made it impossible for Rick to make out the features of the driver. Swearing Rick opened his door and started to step out of the Jeep when a bullet hit the door's window shattering the glass.

Rick instinctively dove across the seat to the passenger side. Shocked by the gunshot and the exploding window, he nonetheless was able to push open the passenger door and slide down into the soft snow. Now shielded by the Jeep, he cautiously crawled around to the back. Peering around the back of the Jeep, he saw a man wearing a black wool watch cap and parka emerge from the Suburban, a rifle in his hands.

Rick knew he had to move or face certain death. Without wasting another second, Rick ran into the woods. The thick cover of pine keep the snow from piling up too deep, and Rick quickly put some distance between the road and himself. Still, a couple of bullets whizzed by as he continued to make his way deeper into the woods. Cursing because he forgot the pistol Ted had given him, Rick's only hope was to loop around and come back on the road above where the Suburban had hit him. Then if he was lucky, he could make it to Joe Anderson's house, which should be about a mile up the road.

Unfortunately, his shooter had other plans. After firing a couple of shots at Rick, Gino Pizzuto had climbed back in the big SUV and pulled it onto the shoulder blocking the Jeep. Someone seeing the Suburban pulled off the road would figure it was a hunter or cross country skier out for a jaunt. Pizzuto climbed out of the SUV and began following Rick.

"Damn, it's tough to get old," thought Rick, who despite his daily runs and visits to the gym knew he could not out run the younger man. Realizing that if he made it back to the road, he would be defenseless against his pursuer, Rick took the only option left and with a deep breath and a silent prayer pushed further through the thick underbrush.

Rick covered about a half mile when he sought refuge behind a large white pine tree. Leaning against the trunk, he reached for his cell phone. "No bars!" Rick was not surprised, cell reception was spotty at best, and despite the new towers installed last year it was next to impossible to receive or send calls this deep in the mountains. Rick tried to collect his thoughts and steady his breathing knowing all the while that his chances of surviving would depend solely on his stamina and knowledge of these woods.

Ted walked into his office after a quick supper just as his phone started ringing. Reaching for the phone, he said, "What's up Mary?"

Ted's secretary, Mary Reese responded. "I have Jim Nottingham on the phone He says Rick didn't show up for ski patrol tonight."

"Put him through. Jim this is Ted. Rick didn't report for duty tonight?"

"No," said Nottingham. "He went over to Black Mountain this afternoon to pick up some equipment. I called Harry over at the ski shop, and he said Rick never showed up."

The hair on the back of Ted's neck stood up. "Something's happened; Rick would call in if he was late. I'm going to contact the state police and start a search and rescue. Call me if you hear anything."

"Will do Sheriff and good luck,"

Ted looked at his watch and thought,"Six thirty, it's been dark for two hours and the temperature here in the Valley is minus five, which means it's minus ten and dropping up there in the mountains."

Ted grabbed his cell and called Pete Haskell, one of his deputies on patrol in the Bear Mountain area. Next, he had Mary alert the state police, mountain rescue and all off duty officers. As Ted ran for his vehicle, he thought of the worst-case scenario. Somehow, Gino Pizzuto had followed Rick and that even now Rick's body was in some snow bank between here and Black Mountain.

Staring down the riflescope Gino swore, "Damn I thought for sure I hit him." He put the weapon down and slowly scanned the area. The sun was slowly moving behind the mountain making it difficult to see very far. "Screw it," said Pizzuto. "I'm not crazy enough to follow him. With any luck, he'll freeze to death, and I'll only have to deal with Troutman."

Gino retraced his steps back to the Suburban. He glanced at Rick's Jeep buried up to its hood in the underbrush. "Perfect," he thought. "It'll look like he spun out on the icy corner and wandered off into the woods." Pizzuto got in the SUV and slowly drove down the mountain. Reaching the intersection of Black Mountain Rd and Route 16, he suddenly pulled off into a gas station. Opening the glove compartment, Pizzuto retrieved a topographical map and found the approximate spot where he had forced Rick off the road. Next, he found where last summer he had followed Gunny, Ted, and Rick to their camp. "Just as I thought their camp is pretty close to where I put his truck in the snow bank. I bet that if I didn't hit him and he doesn't freeze to death, he'll hole up in that dump they call a deer camp."

Pizzuto put the map back in the glove compartment and drove to North Conway where he stopped at the local Walmart and bought a parka, winter gloves, ski pants, and boots. "I'll drive up to that camp as soon as it's light tomorrow and if O'Neil is still alive, I'll kill him and dump his body in some snowdrift. They won't find him till spring, and by that time I'll be out of the country spending the bonus Marchesi promised me."

Ted's cell phone rang just as he was turning onto Black Mountain Road, "Sheriff, it's Haskell, I found Rick's Jeep."

"Where?"

"Off the road a couple of miles up Black Mountain, right at that sharp turn and just after the old logging road."

"Any signs of Rick?"

"No, but it looks like another vehicle stopped and there are two sets of footprints leading off into the woods. I called Rick's name a couple of times and honked my horn, but no one's answered."

"Okay," I'm heading up the mountain now." Ted's Ford Explorer fishtailed as he stepped on the gas sirens blaring.

By the time he reached the curve, the Deputy had put out flares and was standing next to Rick's Jeep shining his flashlight into the woods. "I don't see any blood, so I'm guessing he's not badly injured.

Can't understand why he walked off into the woods. It looks like somebody stopped to help and followed Rick into the woods then returned and drove off."

Ted took out his flashlight shined it into Rick's Jeep and then into the woods, "You stay here."I'm going to follow his trail a ways."

"Be careful Sheriff, the snow's deep and it's at least fifteen below."

"I know, but Rick's in there and probably hurt. Did you call mountain rescue?"

"Yes, Sir they're about five minutes out."

"Good," said Ted as he buttoned up his parka and stepped over the snow bank. "I got my radio with me, called me the minute they arrive."

"Will do," replied Haskell.

Ted quickly reached the tree where Rick had taken shelter. Ted could see where Pizzuto's bullet had slammed into the tree and where Rick had tumbled down the hill. Ted cautiously made his way down the slope stopping about halfway down. He shone the flashlight down the hill following Rick's slide. The powerful beam revealed where Rick had landed. Ted could see footsteps leading off into the underbrush.

"Alright Brother," Ted said under his breath. "Looks like you're alive and kicking." Ted retraced his steps and reaching the road just as mountain rescue pulled up. A big bear of a man jumped from the passenger side of the SUV as it skidded to a stop. Ted walked up to the man, took off his glove and shook the man's hand. "Thanks Tommy for getting here so quickly."

"Yeah, when we heard it was Rick, we got over here as fast as we could." Two other men and a woman rushed up to join the two men.

Here's the scoop," said Ted. "I believe Rick was forced off the road by a Gino Pizzuto who has been hired by Anthony Marchesi to kill Rick and myself because of our testimony in that case in Florida."

"The Conway Sun's been running articles about that case." Tommy said. "It sounds like this Marchesi guy doesn't like to lose. I see Rick's Jeep, but where is Rick?"

"My guess is he took off into the woods. This Pizzuto followed him, took a couple of shots at Rick, but missed. He came back to his vehicle and drove off. I think Rick figures he has a better chance bushwhacking through woods. He's probably heading towards my deer camp."

"Makes sense," said the Mountain Rescue Team Leader. "Your camp's just over the next ridge and if anyone can survive in these woods, Rick can."

"You're right about that," said Ted. "It's the only thing that makes sense. There's no use following his trail when he doesn't appear to be hurt, and we know where he's going. He shouldn't have much trouble finding the camp, getting a fire going and opening up a can of beans for supper." They all laughed partly to relieve the tension and partly imagining Rick eating baked beans out of a can."Do you want us to go up to camp?" asked Tommy.

"No, there's a storm heading our way. High winds and six inches of snow. I hate leaving him to fend for himself, but I'm sure Rick's okay, and I don't want your team wasting their time and possibly risking their lives if they don't have to."

"Agreed, we just had a call from team two for assistance finding a lost hiker. Seems some fool decided it was a good idea to hike up Mount Washington. He twisted his ankle, but managed to find an Adirondack shelter. Lucky for him his cell phone worked up there."

"Okay, at first light I'll fire up my snowmobile and head for camp. Rick will probably have the coffee perking on the stove by the time I get there." Again both men laughed.

The Mountain Rescue Team loaded back into their vehicle and left. Ted took one last look into the woods and said, "Stay safe and warm buddy," then turning he walked back to the SUV.
Chapter Twenty-Five

Purging the Demons

It was still dark as Pizzuto drove the Suburban up the snow-covered road. He hadn't slept much last night spending a lot of time studying maps and planning his next move. The road he was on was a dirt road, one of many in this part of New Hampshire. The road had a few houses scattered along its route. The Town of Jackson was responsible for plowing and maintenance. However, the road crew hadn't made it up the road yet to clear the four inches that had fallen during the night.

The road ended in a turnaround about three miles from Route 16. During the summer, the road continued beyond the turnaround. However, in the winter because there was no houses this far up the road, the town did not plow beyond the turnaround. But, for snowmobilers, it was a favorite point of entry, linking the riders to a system of old logging roads and trails that extended all the way to the Canadian border.

From the turnaround, Ted and Rick's cabin was about a mile up an old logging road. Pizzuto felt he could make it to the cabin, kill Rick, bury his body in a snow bank and be back at his hotel in time for breakfast. Turning off the Suburban's engine, Pizzuto opened the door and stepped out of the SUV. He opened his parka and checked his pistol. Satisfied Pizzuto pulled on his gloves and started up the trail. "If I'm lucky I'll catch him sleeping," Pizzuto thought. "He'll never know what hit him."

Coming up the road Ted was surprised to see a black Suburban parked in the turnaround. Ted had expected Pizzuto to make some kind of move, but Ted figured he would beat Pizzuto to the cabin. Unfortunately, the department's snowmobile's fuel tank was empty, and Ted lost valuable time filling it. Still, his plan was to rescue Rick and have him back home, then go after Pizzuto. But, now with Pizzuto already heading to the cabin, Ted could only hope he wasn't too late.

As Ted got out of his vehicle and walked around to the trailer holding the snowmobile, a gunshot followed by two more broke the early morning silence. "Damn,, I'm too late," said, Ted, as he fired up the snowmobile and sped up the trail. Although it seemed to take forever, it only took a few minutes for Ted to reach the cabin. He skidded to a halt behind the woodshed providing Ted with some protection from anyone in the cabin.

"Ted is that you?"

With a sigh of relief, Ted answered, "Yeah buddy are you alright?"

"I'm okay, but Pizzuto's pretty bad."

Ted ran up the steps and entered the cabin. Rick was bending over applying pressure to Pizzuto's chest. Ted knelt down beside Rick. "What happened?"

"He ran me off the road yesterday and chased me into the woods. Fortunately, I was able to make it to the cabin. I put some beer cans against the door, got out the forty-five and the twelve gauge and bundled myself up in a sleeping bag. I tried to stay awake but finally nodded off. The next thing I know the cans are rolling around on the floor and Pizzuto's shooting at the recliner."

Ted looked over at the recliner. The blanket Rick had rolled up to make it look like he was sleeping in the chair had two bullet holes in it. "You fooled him with the old stuffed blanket trick."

"Yeah, it gave me enough time to wake up and take a shot at him."

A moan from Pizzuto drew Ted's attention to the man. "How bad is he hit?"

"Pretty bad, the bullet went right through him. I'm using a towel as a compress, but need to get him to the hospital as soon as possible."

"Ok, you keep the pressure on that wound and I'll hook up the old sled we keep in the tool shed. With any luck, we'll have him at Memorial Hospital in less than an hour."

Two hours later, Ted and Rick looked up as Doctor Gibbons walked into the waiting room. "Will he make it?" asked Ted.

"He's lost a lot of blood, but he's young and in good shape, so yeah he'll live. He is in recovery now and should be waking up in thirty minutes or so. By the way, that's not the first time he's been shot."

"No surprise there," said Ted. I'm sending over a deputy to keep an eye on him. Please call me when he's awake and ready for visitors."

"He'll be pretty groggy for a while. I call you as soon as he's responsive," said the doctor.

"Rick let's go back to my office; I need to get a formal statement from you. I'll also check with the state police and get a preliminary report on their search of Pizzuto's vehicle and motel room. Hopefully, they'll find something to tie him to Marchesi."

Driving up the street to the sheriff office, Rick and Ted could see several vehicles and a small crowd gathering on the steps of the building. Ted swore, "Looks like we'll make the five o'clock news." He drove up to the sheriff office and parked the Explorer in the space marked "Sheriff Troutman." Outside were television vans, crews, and reporters from Portland, Maine and Manchester, New Hampshire as well as the local cable channel and newspaper. At the sight of Ted, they began moving towards his vehicle

"Ted, I don't want reporters asking me questions, and I sure don't want my face plastered all over the TV."

"Okay pal, just keep your eyes straight ahead and follow me."

Ted pushed his way through the reporters with Rick fast on his heels. The reporters fired questions as Ted and Rick walked up the steps. Reaching the front door, Ted turned around and said, "I'll have a statement for you shortly until then I'll ask you not to block traffic or harass people coming and going from this building."

Turning Ted and Rick walked into the building and turning right entered the Sheriff's office.

"Morning Ted," said Mary. "Looks like you and Rick have stirred up a little excitement."

"Yeah, I guess we did. Have Charlie go outside and make sure those reporters behave themselves."

"Will do, and you had a call from Captain Daniels with the state police. They've searched Pizzuto's hotel room, and found some interesting evidence.

"Ok, I'll call him as soon as I get me some coffee."

Ted and Rick filled their mugs and settled into Ted's office. Ted picked up the phone and punched in the number Mary had given him.

"Daniels," said the rough voice over the phone.

"Hi Cap this is Ted, Mary said you found something interesting."

"Sure did Sheriff, I'm on my way over to your office now."

"Great, but use the back entrance. I've got a bunch of reporters out front buzzing around like flies on you know what."

"Hmm," grunted Captain Daniels. "Back entrance it is."

Ten minutes later Captain Daniels, accompanied by two plain-clothes officers walked into Ted's office.

"Morning Ted, said Daniels, "This is Detectives Hank Stevens and Sara Ashford."

"Welcome, this is Rick O'Neil. He was the one that shot Pizzuto."

Daniels and the detectives shook Ted and Rick's hands. Ted looked at Captain Daniels and said, "Tell me, Cap, what brings you way up here to the North Country."

Daniels gave Ted a small grin and said, "The state's DA office is very interested in this guy Mr. O'Neil shot. Seems the Attorney General, you and Mr. O'Neil have a mutual friend, somebody by the name of Gunny.

Ted and Rick shared a laugh and Ted said, "Man, Gunny knows everybody."

"Seems so," agreed Daniels. "Now I'd like to ask Mr. O'Neil some questions."

"Ok, but first tell me what you've found in Pizzuto's motel room."

"So far we've found his smart phone and return tickets to Miami. My team's going through his messages now. He made several calls to one phone number, and I should have the name and address of the person he called soon."

"Bet ya the number belongs to Anthony Marchesi," said Ted.

"Who's Marchesi?"

Ted told the captain and his detectives about Marchesi and his connection to Ted and Rick. Ted also told them why Gino Pizzuto was trying to kill Rick. "Well Ted," said Daniels. "You guys sure seem to have a lot of enemies."

"Yeah," agreed Ted. "Lucky us,"

"Okay, I told you all I know so far. I will contact you as soon as I get more info. Now, can I please ask Mr. O'Neil some questions?"

"Sure," laughed Ted, but only if you stop calling him Mr. O'Neil."

Daniels chuckled, turned to Rick and said, "It must be tough having Sheriff Troutman for a friend."

Rick smiled, looked at Ted and said, "Oh he's a character alright, but there's no one I rather have covering my back."

Rick spent fifteen minutes answering questions. The state police left and Ted went outside to address the reporters. Walking back into his office, Ted noticed Rick yawning, "Hey Pal, you look beat. Why don't I get you a ride home? Your Jeep is at Mercer's garage, and after Daniels and his team get through with it, I'll have it driven to your house."

Rick rose stiffly from the chair and stretched. "Yeah, I guess I need some rest."

"Go home, take some of the pain pills the doctor gave you and get some sleep. I'll give you a wakeup call at five, and plan on having dinner at my house tonight."

"Thanks" was all Rick could say as he followed Ted slowly out the door.

A week later Ted and Rick were sitting behind Everett Warren as Judge Nancy Endicott addressed the jury, "Has the jury reached a decision?"

A distinguished looking man in his fifties stood and said, "We have your Honor."

"Very well, please hand it to the bailiff."

The bailiff took the folded piece of paper walked over to Judge Endicott's bench and gave it to the judge.

Judge Endicott opened up the paper, read the verdict and putting the paper down looked directly at Anthony Marchesi and his lawyer Charlie Rossi.

"In the case of Anthony Marchesi and The Miami Herald, the jury finds for the defendant. Ted punched Rick in the shoulder and laughed. All heads turn to Ted as the judge with a slight smile said, "This case is dismissed. Thank you, ladies and gentlemen of the jury." Judge Endicott banged down her gavel and exited the courtroom.

Charlie Rossi was looking at Marchesi and shaking his head as two large men in dark suits accompanied by a uniformed state trooper approached them. One of the men pulled out a piece of paper as the trooper took out a pair of handcuffs. The one with the paper said, "Mr. Anthony Marchesi and Mr. Charles Rossi, I have a warrants here for your arrests.

Charlie Rossi stood and said, "What are the charges?"

"You both are charged with conspiracy to commit murder, money laundering, and illegal arms trafficking," said the officer.

Rossi and Marchesi stood as the trooper handcuffed them. The trooper read them their Miranda Rights and escorted the two men out of the courtroom.

As they were passing by where Ted and Rick were, sitting Ted gave a wave and said, "See ya in the funny papers."

Marchesi turned, looked at Ted, shook his head and staring straight ahead was led out the door.

Rick looked at Ted and said, "You had to get the last word in didn't you?"

"You bet that S.O.B had it coming."

Rick grunted in agreement, as Warren followed by Michael Watkins and Richard Jewells approached them. Warren spoke first, "Gentlemen, thanks for all you have done in helping us win this case."

Richard Jewell's spoke next, "The Herald is forever in your debt. We've been waiting a long time for this day."

They all shook hands, and Ted put his arm around Rick said, "Glad we could be of help."

Rick looked at Warren Everett and asked, "So what happens now?"

"Well," said the Everett, "Marchesi, his son, and Rossi are being charged with conspiracy to commit murder. They also are facing a laundry list of federal charges. It's safe to say that Marchesi will be spending a lot of time in and out of the courtroom and years behind bars. Even if found innocent his son's political career is over. As far as Charlie Rossi is concerned, he faces the same charges, guilty or not he'll lose his license to practice law."

Ted laughed, "Well Rick, we can go back home knowing our old buddy's getting just what he deserves."

"I guess, but it'll never bring Jimmy back."
Epilogue

A month later, Rick, Ted, and Gunny were sharing beers and pizzas at Gunny's condominium.

Raising his bottle of beer, Gunny said, "Here's to the two of you staying out of trouble the last couple of weeks." The three men laughed as they clinked their bottles in a toast.

Ted took a sip of beer and said, "I don't know about staying out of trouble, but I can promise you Gino Pizzuto and our old buddy Tony Marchesi won't be causing any more problems for a very long time."

"I sure hope so," said Gunny.

Ted took another sip of his beer and said, "Marchesi is facing a long list of charges from conspiring to commit murder, racketeering, to illegal arms sales. His son has dropped out of the congressional race, and their business is unraveling. I think he has plenty to keep him and his lawyers busy for a long, long time. The FBI picked up Pizzuto as he was boarding a flight to Argentina. He had a false passport on him and ten grand in hundred dollar bills in his carryon."

Gunny looked over at Rick and said, "O'Neil, you been awful quiet, what's eating at you now."

Rick leaned back and said, "I can't help thinking about Jimmy. Maybe he would be alive today if we had stayed in touch more."

Ted and Gunny looked at each other. Ted raised his eyebrows as Gunny lowered his voice and said, "Rick, what happened is in the past, and nothing can change that. Jimmy fought his demons and lost. He made bad decisions, and despite consoling and rehab, he just couldn't shake those demons.

You and Ted did all you could. So even though taking Marchesi, down won't bring Jimmy back at least you have set things right. I am sure Jimmy's at peace and is looking down smiling on the three of us."

Ted raising his bottle said, "Rick, Gunny's right. Do you remember years ago when you and I were trying to come to grips with all that happened in 'Nam'? We kept asking ourselves why we made it out alive when so many others didn't. Gunny's answer was that we owed it to all those who were killed to live our lives well. I think we have done that and seeing Marchesi finally having to pay for all the damage and wrecked lives he has caused should be the final chapter in this long, sad story. You and I have finally purged those demons. So drink up Buddy, life is good!"

Rick smiled and said, "You're both right. For years that damn war has weighed me down, but finally, I'm free and those demons have been sent back to Hell".
I hope you have enjoyed "Da Nang Damned!" Thank you for reading it and contributing to Carroll County, Maryland's Veterans Independence Project, CCVIP.

Da Nang Damned!" is the first in a series of books about Rick O'Neil and Ted Troutman. The second book in the series, "Death Is Never Pretty" is due out, Spring 2018.

PREVIEW: _DEATH IS NEVER PRETTY!_

Alejandra Perez shivered uncontrollably. No words could describe the sheer terror and utter hopelessness she felt. Nothing in her young life prepared her for this horror. Two weeks ago, she was a happy fourteen-year-old girl. Her biggest worry was whether Diego really liked her. Diego at sixteen was two years older than Alejandra, and to the young girl, seemed very mature. The girl was surprised that Diego was interested in her. After all, Alejandra wore glasses and her mom braided her hair in what the other girls called old woman braids. Ever since her family's move to Juarez last year, Alejandra had tried her best to fit in at school.

However, her family was from a small town and poor. They had moved from their family and friends with the hope of her father finding work at a new car factory. Instead, the promise of a good job and a better standard of living quickly faded. Her father had to take a job at a small repair shop while her mother worked in the kitchen at a local hospital.

Alejandra was the oldest of four children and assumed the role of caregiver to her siblings. Unfortunately, this left the young girl with no time to play or make friends. Still, at fourteen, she was beginning to blossom into a woman and the attention of an older boy was like a dream come true.

After a few days of walking her home from school, and stopping to buy her a soda or ice cream cone, Diego invited her to a "party". He and some friends were having a party Saturday to celebrate Dia de la Independencia, or Day of the Revolution. Alejandra knew her parents would not allow her to go. They still held to the very traditional belief that young unmarried girls, especially fourteen-year-old girls did not go out by themselves. Alejandra had not told them of Diego and despite some giggles and whispering from her two younger sisters, her parents had no idea that instead of going to a friend's house, she was really slipping down the alley to Diego's "party".

However, instead of a "party", Alejandra found herself drugged and tossed into a white delivery truck. Also in the van were three other scared and semi-conscience girls and one boy. They were driven to an old warehouse and keep in a small locked room. At night, Alejandra heard muffled crying from an adjoining room indicating that other children were suffering the same fate as she.

_A couple of days later, the children woke to a woman shouting, and kicking them. Quickly the children gathered their dirty blankets and following the woman, walked out the door. Looking_ around, _Alejandra shuddered, it was a dark, moonless night and on the ground in front of them was a shipping container. Alejandra heard more shouting and turning saw another group of children stumbling out the warehouse door. She did a quick count. The second group numbered eight children, four girls, and four boys. Cursing a woman began shoving Alejandra and the rest of the children into the steel container. Once they were all inside she shut the door, the desperate children crying out as they heard the door's latch slamming into place._

A forklift hoisted the shipping container onto a flatbed truck, which drove the short distance to the dock where an old freighter was waiting. A crane then lifted the container holding the children and lowered it down on the ship. Deckhands quickly detached the hooks from the container and a few hours later the ship headed out of the harbor bound for Montreal, Canada. Alejandra and the other children had no idea where the freighter was going. All they knew was that they would never see their families or friends again.

Once a day the woman, whom the children had started calling Bruja or "Witch", brought them food and drink along with two empty five-gallon buckets. The boys carried the overflowing buckets from the previous day and dumped them over the side of the ship. The thin worn and dirty blankets barely covered the children and the dirty mattresses provided little warmth the only way to stay alive was to huddle together and pray.

Alejandra suspected that whoever had kidnapped them put some kind of drug in the food and at first refused to eat. Nevertheless, after a couple of days, Alejandra, had succumbed to the growing hunger pains and ate, scooping up the mix of corn and beans from the pail with the rest of her captors. She began to welcome the drugs knowing they would bring on a dream-like state, dulling her pain and fears.

The young children soon lost count of the days, the sedatives in the food, kept them quiet and docile. Between the drugs and crammed into a steel container, the children spent most of the time in a semi-conscience stupor or quietly whimpering. Alejandra being the oldest did her best to comfort the younger ones. She started singing songs, praying and getting the children to talk about their homes.

Finally, after what seemed a lifetime they felt the ship's engine slow down. A short time later the ship stopped. The children cried out as a crane lifted the container off the ship and onto the back of a truck. With a jolt, the truck began to move, fifteen minutes later with brakes squealing, the truck came to a stop. Again, the crane lifted the shipping container off the truck and with a bang set it down on a concrete floor.

_The door to the container opened and the weary, frightened children slowly walked out of their steel prison and into a dark warehouse. Four armed men, Bruja,_ and _another woman stood around the dazed children looking at them as one might look at a cow or pig in the_ marketplace _._

_The children stood huddled together for a few minutes when suddenly an overhead door opened and a_ semi-trailer _truck drove into the warehouse. The smoke from the diesel engine filled the warehouse with noxious exhaust. One of the armed men walked over to the back of the trailer and unlocking the door lifted it revealing another group of frightened children._

_The man began shouting in a language, which sounded familiar to Spanish. The children quickly climbed down from the truck and prodded by the man formed a circle next to Alejandra's group. Finally, two men appeared out of the darkness. One man, the taller of the two was dressed in black pants and black leather jacket with a white shirt unbuttoned halfway down to reveal gold chains. The man had_ prematurely _gray hair and a scar running from his right ear to the corner of his mouth. The other man was shorter, younger with blonde hair and a full beard. Instead of a gold chain, he wore a necklace of multi-colored beads, similar to the beads Alejandra's mother made. Without looking at the children, the taller man walked over to the women, spoke quietly, laughed and walked out, the shorter man following him._

_Bruja glared at the_ children _and gestured to her right. The men began shoving the children to the back of the warehouse. There, the bewildered children were told to undress. The children hesitated, reluctant to disrobe in front of each other. Bruja yelled and pulling off her belt started whipping the nearest child, a young boy about twelve; the belt caught the startled boy across the back, making a slapping sound and causing the boy to yelp in pain. Bruja yelled in_ Spanish _, Quítate la_ rope _! This time the children began disrobing, the boys politely turning their backs. Finally, when all the children were naked, one of the men grabbed a_ hose _and began spraying them with cold water. Another tossed a couple of bars of soap and in Spanish, and then in a_ language, _Alejandra did not understand, told them to wash the filth from their bodies. Quaking and shivering the young captors did as ordered. They dried themselves with some rough shop_ rags _and picking clothes from a pile on the floor the children quickly dressed themselves._

To learn more about my books, book signings and appearances, visit my blog @ writerandraconteur.blogspot.com, twitter @ https://twitter.com/PTurnerAuthor, or contact me directly @ ptwrites@comcast.net.

Peter Turner lives in Maryland with his wife. Besides writing, he enjoys woodcarving, fishing and going on road trips with his grandson in his Jaguar S-Type.

