"Connections"

Chapter 2

The Search Begins

The Visitor stuffed the folded want ads into his shapeless old corduroy jacket and walked at an easy pace along a gravel driveway. The road ended abruptly at a tall chainlink fencing with a makeshift wooden stand next to the gate. An elderly attendant stepped out to greet him. The guard’s vigilance stirred at the sight of the tall, lean figure approaching him. Seldom did anyone arrive at this relatively isolated location on foot. The long-haired man appeared disheveled and too young for his baggy old clothes.        "Good morning sir", the attendant began, eyeing the Visitor suspiciously but asking politely enough, "You have business at the lab this morning?"        "Yes, I'm here to see David West... uh, about the maintenance work." The Visitor gazed steadily into the older man's eyes for a long moment. With an effort, the attendant looked away and replied, "Just a minute, please."        The Visitor surveyed the seemingly deserted buildings and holding pens along the water's edge, until the attendant returned with clipboard and cell phone in hand. "What did you say your name is?" asked the man, carefully keeping his eye on the clipboard.        The Visitor sighed, then answered, "Adam MacArthur. This is the Okaloosa Bay Research Center, isn't it?"        "You've got the right place, but I don't see you listed here. And Mr. West is a trainer. He doesn't generally get involved in maintenance."        "Well he's the person I'm supposed to talk with," the Visitor insisted, calmly.        The elderly attendant appeared to struggle with a decision, finally answering, "Look, no one enters the lab without clearance and Mr. West won't be in until this afternoon. No, no wait a minute, now." The flustered old man thumbed haphazardly through his notes and dropped the clipboard.        The Visitor quickly stooped to retrieve the papers, resting one hand on the man's shoulder as he placed the clipboard back in his hands. "You got it?" the Visitor asked, peering into the man's eyes at close quarters.        Relaxing, the attendant chuckled, "Yes, danged schedule! I'll tell you, the Navy may tell me what to do here, but it's the university that writes my paycheck. Now here it is." The man rested a finger on the page. "Mr. West is speaking at the aquarium today. He won't be in at all."        Noting the disappointment on the Visitor's face, the old man continued, "Now I'll tell you what I can do is give him your name and phone number . . ."        "No," the Visitor responded decisively. A sudden eruption of chatter and splashing interrupted the conversation, as both men turned to view the holding pens. A caretaker, accompanied by a uniformed guard, could be seen approaching the dolphin enclosures carrying feeding buckets. The noisy calls subsided and the Visitor continued, "I'll come back later, thanks."        Workday routines can be hard to break. For Craig Van Patten and Nicholas LaRue, sudden dismissal from the Federal Bureau of Investigation did not immediately change their association built upon months of meetings, investigations, and travels. The two partners were navigating the congested streets of the Washington, D.C. metro area, excited about meeting, at last, with their old nemesis, Colonel Vise.        "Craig, you got that address handy?" LaRue edged his Cadillac through the traffic.        "Sure," Van Patten re-folded the map and referred to his notebook. "Eleven twenty-seven Van Buren, SE. Why don’t you try hanging a right at the next light? We’re looking for a Westbrook Extended Care Center." He shook his head, adding, "You know, it’s just pretty hard to picture Vise in a place like this... I mean, a nursing home!"        "That's subacute care," LaRue corrected. "Happens all the time, what with the cost of medical care and all. Looks like even Uncle Sam has felt the pinch. What is hard to picture is us sniffing around for leads in this case since the agency has closed its investigation and we're technically out of a job."        "Yeah, well, the severance package was very generous. And I'll never be able to move on without at least trying to get closure." Van Patten stretched his neck to one side and then the other, trying to release tense muscles, and continued, "Imagine, all that time we were on his tail, Vise was just doing his job. It's a shame, him getting shot by his own people. Believe me, if we make peace with Vise, the whole MacArthur incident will be much easier to put behind us. I mean, hell, I haven't even been able to tell my wife about the termination. She thinks I’m still with the Bureau!"        LaRue chuckled, "Well it don't matter one way or the other to me about Vise. What I can't stand is coming up empty handed. Looks like that Adam MacArthur, if that's who he is, maybe gave us the slip for good this time."        Expertly negotiating his way through the narrow parking lanes, LaRue spent the next several minutes finding a space for his boat-sized vehicle. In truth, neither man could claim to be perfectly relaxed as they approached the long, low block building for their meeting. Entering the door of the skilled nursing facility, LaRue resigned himself to the task at hand. "Come on. Let's pull out our best visiting manners and get this done."