A navy chopper dropped Lee off on the flat lawn behind Anne Katherine Rutenberg's (now Simon's) little salt box house by the sea. Lee easily picked the lock to the house with some extra tools of his own that he brought "in case." He confirmed the house's emptiness before positioning the shortwave in the living room. Then he set to gathering notes and journals of Kate. Kowalski and Sharkey arrived an hour later; Sharkey stayed with the Flying Sub.
"Hey, Captain. Brought a couple of presents," Kowalksi smiled as he delivered two high-powered automatic rifles and a handheld radio for communicating with FS-1.
"Good to see you, Ski. I've gathered a few piles of journals and books to take back. Let's get them aboard FS1."
"Sorry, sir, Doc said you weren't to take stairs. I'll take care of it."
"He never said that to me."
Kowalski smiled. "He knows you won't listen."
"Guess I'll go feed the chickens then, unless the doctor forbade that too."
"No, sir, I don't remember any orders involving chickens."
Lee set off to do as he said, plus recover the journals and notebooks he'd seen in the barn. The chickens nipped at his heels as he approached the barn, hungry for the diet of feed they'd become used to and favored over hunting for food. He spread out the food to minimize competition before he turned to collecting the journals. He couldn't help but wonder what more the Admiral knew or suspected. As much as he'd been told, Lee had so many questions still. He didn't even notice Kowalski's entry into the barn right away.
"I'll just take those off your hands and be right back for the rest, Skipper."
"Say hello to Sharkey for me."
Lee followed Kowalski to the top of the steps to wait. He glanced down at the water where his sailboat now sat at the bottom, a small bit of the mast protruding from the water, a lame headstone for a beautiful lady. The thought sent chills through Lee. No, that wasn't what sent chills. It was the long cigarette boat near the mouth of the cove with a man on deck hailing in the direction of Kowalski, no, he was aiming. "Kowalski, get down!" Lee was too late. Lee saw Kowalski spin and fall towards FS1. Lee didn't have a chance to see more as rifle fire sprayed his way and he hit the deck. A few seconds later, the reports ended. Lee inched forward on his belly to look for the boat. He saw it retreating into the bay, throwing a large wake.
He radioed FS1. "Crane to FS1, report."
"Ski's aboard, sir. He's taken a slug in the shoulder."
"Get him to the closest hospital and report back."
"Aye, aye, Skipper."
"Take care of that boat on your way out if you can. I don't care if you chip the paint, either."
"With pleasure, Skipper," Sharkey said.
Lee headed up to the house where he'd stashed the shortwave. "Admiral, this is Crane. Come in."
"Yes, Lee."
"A sniper on a boat just took out Kowalski."
"I heard over the radio. A medivac will meet FS1 at Brunswick."
Something was off in the Admiral's voice. It was strangely stiff.
"How about some back up for me, Sir?"
"Hole up in the house for now, Lee. We'll get help out there as soon as possible."
"Admiral, what's going on?"
"I . . . Shoot first and ask . . ." The transmission was interrupted before the Admiral could finish.
Lee returned to the house. He took up a position upstairs, taking the short wave radio with him. He moved between the bedrooms to get as close to a 360 degree view as possible. When he entered the guest room, this time without a mission to pull journals, his eyes caught the business card he'd left on the dresser face-up, untouched he thought, as was the room itself since he'd left it. It appeared that Kate had yet to see his note.