The morning was clear and it actually went down to the middle 70s by dawn but the humidity hadn't dropped one scintilla. It was quiet in the cove and the campers slept as yesterdays trash was collected so the campers would get a fresh start today.
Ivan ran to the trash container on campsite five. He ran the can to the trash buggy. Once the can was empty, he ran it back to where he got it. Tag moved the trash buggy the thirty feet between sites, stopping at site six. Tag watched Ivan gab the can on the run and he raced it to the buggy and it was on to seven.
Needing to burn off his excess energy a few days after saying goodbye to Clay and Dylan, Ivan wasted no time moving between campsites on the morning trash pick up.
Almost falling between six and seven, his arm went straight down and his hand reached for the sand. His body pivoted in an attempt to regain its balance and the dash continued. In a flash he was dumping the can into the buggy and he dashed away. Tag moved to site eighty.
Ivan's tee-shirt was soaked. It was a Wednesday in June in Florida. Even if it cooled somewhat by dawn, the humidity was relentless this time of year. Stepping outside earned you beads of sweat on your forehead. Running dehydrated the best Floridians in a Tampa Bay minute but even the humidity couldn't stop Ivan's run.
He was breathing hard when he reached nine. That didn't slow him down. Since his men left, he invented ways to keep himself occupied. There was no time to worry about what was going on three thousand miles away and running was good for him.
Bill told Ivan, “We'll be traveling in comfort. There is nothing to worry about.”
Today started with dashing the trash. There was no time to let his mind wander. After the trash would be a day full of duties to keep his campers happy and carefree.
Tag looked on with amusement. Ivan never ceased to amaze him. Tag usually ran the trash. Ivan drove. To Tag running the trash meant walking to a campsite, picking up the can, walking it to the trash buggy and after dumping it, you walked the can back to where you got it. Then you relaxed before walking to the next site.
This morning Ivan said, “You drive. I'll run the trash.”
The mad dash was on. Tag was winded watching Ivan sprint between campsites. He shook his head and leaned on the steering wheel. Why did he do that to himself? Why run if you can walk? Why walk if you can ride?
Ivan wasn't kidding when he said, “I'll run the trash, you drive.”
Tag couldn't help himself. He had to ask.
“Better you than me, Boss. What's the big hurry anyway?” Tag asked as Ivan dashed away from the buggy.
“I'm starting the day with gusto, Tag. Get the juices flowing,” Ivan said.
“My juices doing just fine sitting right here watching you. You plumb wore me out and I got ten more hours here today. That trash ain't going nowhere, Boss. It'll be there whether or not you run.”
“I've got fourteen hours,” Ivan said. “If I leave at eight tonight.”
“You won't,” Tag said loudly. “You're here when I get here and you're here when I leave. These folks will survive if you take a few hours off.”
They'd moved up the beach in no time at all. There were only ten campsites on the beach and the three wilderness sites above the beach campsites. When Ivan reached ten in record time, he stopped once he ran the can back to ten. There was a trash can out for the wilderness site behind ten. When he left yesterday afternoon, no one was in wilderness one.
He walked back to the can at the edge of wilderness one. That's when he saw him and he'd never been so surprised to see anyone. It was not a happy surprise. Ivan felt a chill run up his spine. He'd been stopped dead in his tracks.
There was a ten foot rugged path that opened into wilderness one before it opened into a space large enough for a tent, the fire pit, and a few dozen feet to move around in. Mason was standing in front of his tent drinking coffee as Ivan looked down the rugged path. Mason was looking straight at Ivan. He had been waiting for him.
A message had been transmitted.
There was no doubt he'd seen Ivan and he intended to be seen. He stood so Ivan couldn't miss him. Mason didn't accidentally rent a spot at a campground a few feet from the door of where Ivan ran his business. Men like Mason didn't accidentally do anything.
Men like Mason knew that being caught flatfooted by an adversary at any time could get you killed, He had no doubt that Ivan was an adversary, even when they worked for the same people. They did not like each other.
Only happenstance had them on the same team, Ivan didn't like ruthless men and Mason was one of the most ruthless man he'd ever known. He was a Company man through and through. Mason didn't hesitate in doing what he thought needed to be done, and heaven help he who it was done to.
The question that needed to be answered, why was he here?
Ivan's mad dash ended at wilderness one. Mason had seen him and he'd been seen. He made no attempt to close the distance between them. Ivan had proved to be a better asset than anyone had a right to expect to be and he'd been protected from the Khmer Rouge cadre as well as men like Mason, who ran the handlers that protected him for as long as he was on post.
A man like Mason could be order to, or decide on his own if circumstances demanded, to leave an asset without his backup team in place at a critical time that might get him killed. He didn't do that because of Ivan's value.
The only reason Ivan wasn't still over there doing the bidding of the Company was because of friends in high places who also had his back and the station head knew this. For that reason Ivan enjoyed a surprising amount of autonomy in a tightly controlled organization.
Ivan's mind was working it over as he went through the motions of collecting a trash can and going back to the trash buggy. He walked back this time. His long purposeful strides were a change Tag noticed. Then Ivan picked a spot that was flat and relatively trash free before dumping the trash from wilderness one into a pile.
He began going through the trash a piece at a time. He opened and smoothed out any paper that had been in the can. This was there final stop and the shop and coffee was a few feet away, and Lord, did Tag need a piping hot cup of brew but instead he watched Ivan.
“You run out of gas, Boss?” Tag asked.
There would be no reply. Tag had seen Ivan in this preoccupied state of mind before. He didn't hear him. He probably didn't realize he was“ there. He was focused on that pile of trash.
Tag was no longer amused. He'd never seen Ivan take any interest in the trash before. What was he looking for?
“What's up, Boss?” Tag asked, thinking his behavior was odd.
Ivan's main rule was to respect the privacy of guests.
“They come here to get away from their routine and we're here to help them do that. We do it while respecting their privacy.”
He continued investigating the trash from wilderness one. Tag was sure he looked at every piece before taking the can back.
Once he did, Ivan took long purposeful strides to the front door of the shop. He disappeared inside.
He hadn't said a word to Tag. First it was that mad dash that seemed a little crazy to Tag. Then he goes into a trance,going all weird with someone's trash. Clay and Dylan had only been gone for part of a week. At this rate he'd be bat shit crazy by the time they came home.
Tag knew something was going on. He didn't know what.
Ivan left Tag sitting on the trash buggy. He didn't say a word to him about what was going on. Tag put the trash buggy back where it belonged before walking around to the shop entrance and went inside. Going straight to the coffee pot, he poured his cup full before pouring Ivan's cup full.
He waited for Ivan to tell him what was troubling him.
Tag had been working for Ivan since before he graduated from high school. Ivan was gone from the cove for a long time. He hadn't been back for long when he began developing Cove Enterprises.
Tag liked Ivan. He was direct. What you saw was what you got. He didn't need to try to impress folks because he was an impressive man. He was smart enough to dream up and build Cove Enterprises. Where literally nothing was before was a shop that was growing and a vacation getaway with activities for all tastes.
Turning a worthless piece of scrub land into a vacation hot spot took imagination as well as hard work. Ivan had shaped the cove the way he needed it to proceed with building the beach that would be the centerpiece of his cove empire. By that time Ivan was looking for help and Tag's mother sent Tag to apply for the job the day after Ivan decided he needed one solid helper he could trust.
The interview was brief.
“Aren't you Twila's kid? Don't you hang with my kid?”
“Yes I am. Dylan and I are friends,” Tag said.
Dylan had always been Clay's boy back as far as Tag remembered. He remembered Ivan coming home and there was a lot of chatter about it when he came home with his brother. He'd also heard that Ivan was Dylan's real father.
“Do you have any idea what kind of job you're applying for, because I don't. I'm figuring this out as I go along. I've got some back breaking work ahead of me. I figure to hire someone to break his back with me. You still interested?”
“I'm not afraid of hard work. I'm smart enough to get by. I need some extra money to help Mama. Mama says, you're OK.”
“You're hired,” Ivan said.
“You haven't interviewed me yet. How do you know I can do what you want done?” Tag asked.
“You're Twila's son?”
“Yes, but you aren't hiring my mother.”
“That's all I need to know, Tag. I've got sand coming for the beach. I need someone who isn't afraid of hard work.”
“Beach? What beach?”
“Come here,” Ivan said, getting up and walking to the front door.
Tag walked behind him. He'd lived near the cove all his life and there wasn't a beach there.
“You see all those briers, brambles, and brush? That's the beach. You need to use your imagination,”
Ivan left Tag standing at the front door. He went back and sat behind the desk. Tag stood in what was a much smaller shop in those days. He thought, you need a hell of a lot more than imagination to see a beach in that worthless pile of weeds.
“I don't know what I'm doing. I can't tell you exactly what you'll be doing, but if you want to work for me, you're hired. We'll figure it out together. I plan to put the cove on the map.”
“Do you know how crazy that sounds?” Tag asked.
“No, you see, that's what I need. I tend to get big ideas. That's what I have now. You'll tell me when something sounds crazy to you. It won't change much, but if I hear it, I'll know what I'm about to do is crazy. I'm crazy enough to see a money making enterprise zone here. All I've got to do is build it and I can't do it alone.”
Tag laughed.
“What you saying is, you do crazy stuff and you want someone crazy enough to help you do crazy stuff?” Tag asked.
“I knew you were my guy,” Ivan said. “You summed it up nicely. That's the size of it.”
“Kewl,” Tag said. “Count me in. I love a challenge.”
That day, Tag sat in a deck chair in front of the big mahogany desk Ivan bought at an army surplus store. He sat in the same place now. For the first time since 1980, Ivan seemed out of sorts in a way Tag hadn't seen before. It had something to do with wilderness one.
There was nothing to the job. Oh, he stayed busy enough but it was routine stuff. After doing it once, you knew what to do. Some stuff was done once and he never did it again, like clearing what was now Ivan's beach.
It took a week and then it was a half mile strip of dirt but Ivan knew where his beach was. All he had to do was move it to the cove. It came in trucks loaded with sand dredged up from some river nearby. Ivan always had a plan. It might have sounded odd when he said it, but when he was done, he had several hundred yards of pure white sand. None of the people who came to stay at Cove Campsites knew the beach was once briers and brambles.
Anyone could do what Tag did but he liked working for Ivan. There was seldom a dull moment even if it was mostly routine.
They picked up the trash a little after six each morning and one of them stayed until nine each night. When Dylan was home, he ran the trash with his father and Tag slept in. With Dylan going with Clay for the summer, Tag had to come in to do the trash with Ivan.
That was work because Tag hated getting up early. On the days he worked until nine, after doing the trash, Tag got to go home and catch up on his beauty sleep. It was Ivan's night to work late, but even then, Tag knew he'd be staying late that night.
He took care of the customers who came in the store for something during the day. The store was fairly new since late last year. He registered new guests, showed them their site, and told them what was available in the way of entertainment, which was a lot for such a small place. Ivan had big ideas and the cove was only halfway to where it was going.
Tag helped run the boats and they made more money on boat tours and diving trips to a local reef than they made off the campsites and Ivan was just getting started.
Tag liked being at the Dive, Surf, & Bait Shop. He felt like he belonged there. He was growing along with the cove. He had it in mind to go to college but he wanted to work for Ivan. Since he was already working for Ivan, he'd worry about college later on.
There were half a dozen white folks that his mama would allow him to work for. Luckily Ivan was one of those And he'd come by way of Clay who was his best friend's father and that was good enough for Tag when he realized he came by the job by way of his mama.
She always told him, “It pays to know folks.”
Once out of school Tag went to work for Ivan full-time. Over the last few years they'd become friends. Ivan was the best white man Tag ever knew. He didn't want to work for anyone else.
Life in and around the cove was good. Now that Ivan had created the Cove Enterprise Zone, Tag had steady work at a fair pay. Calling it work was an exaggeration. His job was to help keep the place clean and take folks out for tours of the cove and the Gulf, for SCUBA diving on a nearby reef, or for deep sea fishing.
Tag didn't want to be in the water but being on it was fine. There were Cove Days with picnics and prizes and tours of the Fish Warehouse and the fishing fleet, when it was home. It started slow but the last two years had seen the campsites full much of the time.
Ivan was as steady a man as Tag knew. That made his peculiar behavior that morning more baffling. It wasn't out of character for Ivan to think up running the trash. When he stopped running to try to see into wilderness one, he veered away from his usual behavior. He'd seen something that took his mind off of mad dashing the trash, and Tag knew, whatever it was, it wasn't good.
Ivan was there, but he wasn't there. His mind was a off somewhere. He knew Tag was sitting in front of him but they weren't connected like they were a few feet away from each other. There was a distance between where they sat and where Ivan's mind had gone.
Tag wasn't sure what was wrong. Something was eating on his boss. Like with most things, Ivan didn't try to hide it.
Tag knew all of Ivan's moods as well as all his moves. This was something he'd never seen before. He could wait and Ivan would tell him what it was in his own time but it had begun to eat on Tag now.
“You OK, Boss?” Tag asked.
There was no answer. Tag knew by Ivan's eyes that he'd heard him but he wasn't ready to talk.
“When did you rent wilderness one?” Ivan finally asked.
It confirmed that wilderness one was where it started.
“You were at the Olson's for dinner last night. He came in a little before closing and he asked for wilderness one,” Tag said, remembering the man.
“Sort of a creepy guy. Had one of those Sam Spade hats pulled low. His voice was like sandpaper. He never looked me in the eye but he had strange eyes that saw me past the brim of that hat. I wouldn't know him if I stood next to him. Not without that hat on. I offered to walk him over. He said he knew the way. He was in here all of maybe five minutes. I didn't mind he left. I left a few minutes after he did. The lights were already off when he came into the shop.”
“He was alone and he asked for wilderness one? He knew to ask for wilderness one, Tag?” Ivan asked, pressing him like it was important.
“No, Boss. As I recall, he asked for a wilderness site. He wanted something close to the shop. I told him wilderness one was just past the boat ramp. That was his trash can you were looking at. What's up with that? You've never showed any interest in the trash before.”
“He'd have heard me start the trash buggy. He got up to made sure he was standing there when I grabbed the trash can,” Ivan said. “I could see right to his tent. I don't remember being able to see into wilderness one from where the trash can is. Wilderness sites are isolated to assure the maximum privacy.”
“Boss, you're scaring me. Who is he?”
\ “It's better for you not to know. Don't ask any questions,” Ivan said. “He's here for me and I'll take care of it.”
”'He was alone and he paid up until Friday. He said he wanted to be out of here before the weekend.”
Ivan reached for the registration book on the corner of the desk. Leaning forward he ran his finger down the list of campers. There was no order to it. When they registered someone they signed on the next open line and the number of the campsite they were going into was written after the signature.
Ivan wasn't looking to see who was in wilderness one. He was looking for a name he recognized. When his finger came to the name Mason it stopped. He traced the line and came to wilderness one. His finger tapped the name. Ivan got that far away look again.
“You don't need to tell me what's going on, Boss. I can see something's wrong. What's wrong with that guy?”
“No. You shouldn't know anything about him. You steer clear of him, Tag. I'll take care of Mason.”
Ivan's expression never changed. He was there but he was somewhere a long way away from the cove. He leaned back in his chair and remembered the man now camping in wilderness one.
“He's cut down the brush. I saw all the way to his tent. I saw him standing there drinking coffee,” Ivan said suspiciously.
“He what?” Tag asked.
“Go look. He's cleared a space so he can stand at the edge of his site and watch the entrance to the shop. I checked when I came in.”
“Why would anyone want to see the entrance to the shop? You went through his trash. Just because he did some landscaping you shouldn't be looking through the man's trash,” Tag said.
He went to the purchase window where people came to buy something from the store but didn't want to come inside. It was convenient for someone who wanted a soda or some chips. Tag looked out the window and he saw right into wilderness one.
“You couldn't see into wilderness one before,” Ivan said.
“I'm going over there and give him a piece of my mind. He can't do that. No one does that. Why did he think it was called wilderness? He didn't look like a kook to me,” Tag said mad as a hornet.
“You steer clear of him, Tag. I'll handle it,” Ivan said in a cool and measured voice.
“Who does he think he is?” Tag asked.
Ivan's finger went back down the page of the registry. When he reached the name Mason, his finger tapped the name.
Tag could see some kind of recognition on Ivan's face.
“He knows he's no one to be fucked with. That's who he is, Tag.”
“You know him, Boss? Who is he?”
“Son-of-a-bitch didn't even use a different name. He wanted me to know he's here,” Ivan said with certainty.
“Who is he, Boss?” Tag persisted, alarmed by Ivan's tone.
“Tag, the man is trouble. You don't need his kind of trouble. I'll tell you one last time. Don't go near him. He's my trouble and I've got to deal with it my way.”
“OK. I get that. How can I help you?” Tag insisted.
Ivan leaned forward and put his face in his hands. He rubbed his face vigorously before sitting up straight. For an instant he wasn't there and then he was back.
“There's nothing to do. I can make some phone calls. I can get help with this. Do your job and let me handle Mason. I don't know what he's doing here but I intend to find out,” Ivan said, sounding more like things were under control.
Getting up, Ivan went to stand in front of the big window.
Tag didn't take his eyes off him. Whatever was wrong, he didn't intend to let Ivan face trouble by himself. He'd do what he was told for now but he'd be ready when the time came for him to help.
“Describe him,” Ivan said with his back turned to Tag. “I caught his profile. I want your description.”
“Five eight. One eighty. He had that hat on, pulled low, like he didn't want his face seen. Rough sounding voice. I've got to tell you he was a bit creepy. All he wanted was that wilderness sight and I didn't give it any more thought. He walked like a cat. Light on his feet like he might spring at something at any second.”
“Good observation. That comes with training,” Ivan said. “Cat like would be a good description. He's not here by accident. That's what worries me. I don't know what his name is but that's the name he used when I knew him. From when you were gone all that time?”
Ivan paused. He had been the talk of the cove when he first brought Boris home. He was gone a long time.
“Yeah, he's from over there,” Ivan said without explaining.
“He had funny eyes. He took a quick glance at me when I told him wilderness one was right across the boat ramp. You know when you get a bad vibe off of someone. He had that kind of vibe. Who am I to say he can't camp here? He had the money, I rented him a site.”
“You didn't do anything wrong, Tag. Just steer clear of him. I'll take care of it,” Ivan said.
Ivan sat back in his chair. He was back under control and Tag couldn't read his expression. He was thinking and he hadn't made up his mind yet. The day was early.
“He's a nightmare I had once,” Ivan said feeling like talking.
Tag was quiet. They sat drinking coffee for a while. Putting pieces together from what he knew about Ivan, Tag had a hunch.
“From over where you were all those years?” Tag asked.
“Cambodia. Phenom Penh. Class of 1977-78.”
“You came home in '79 about this time,” Tag remembered.
“Yeah. I first saw him in Thailand about 1975. He's not a nice man, Tag. There's only one reason he's here and that means trouble.”
“I'm not going to get shot again, am I,” Tag asked.
“He's here for me. He doesn't care about anything else. Steer clear of him and you'll be fine,” Ivan said.
“I heard you the first time, Boss,” Tag said. “We're kewl.”
“Can you hold down the fort for a few minutes. I've got to go home for a few minutes. I'll be back in a half hour,” Ivan said.
“You got it. What do I do if he strolls in here?”
“He won't. He's not interested in anything in here but me and he won't come at me on my turf. He knows I know he's here. He'll play cat and mouse with my mind for a while, keep me on edge, so I get careless trying to think too much. That's when he'll make his move, but I'll be ready for him. I'm way ahead of him and I know who I'm dealing with.”
“How do you know that?” Tag asked.
“I worked with him. I know his moves. He's one cool customer,”
They drank coffee and Ivan remembered something he wanted to order from the snack cake man. He wrote it down.
Tag watched him.
“I'm going home now. I'll be right back. I want Clay's car down here. I left it in my driveway when I jogged to work this morning.”
“You got a fine new Buick in your driveway and you jogged to work?” Tag said in disbelief.
“I jog to work all the time. I usually don't have Clay's car. I'm going to start driving to work for the time being,” Ivan said, getting up from his desk. “Hold down the fort. I won't be long. Act naturally every chance you get.”
“Act naturally? You've just told me this guy is here to get you and you want me to forget I know that?”
“Tag, I don't know why he's here. If he was going to shoot me, I'd already be shot. He didn't decide to go camping and just by chance he rents a site overlooking the place where I work.”
“That makes me feel a lot better,” Tag said, not sounding like he felt any better.
Walking beside the boat ramp, he passed the trash buggy on the way to the road that would take him to the driveway of his house.
Ivan jogged home. In ten minutes he was slowing to a walk as he went around Clay's Buick that was parked in his driveway. He looked for signs someone had been there but saw none. He did the same as he went around the side of the house to enter through the kitchen. Nothing indicated anyone was there waiting for him but Ivan didn't lock his doors. The closest house was the Olsons and that was nearly a mile away. Someone could set off a stick of dynamite at his back door and no one would hear it.
He moved up the steps and carefully opened the back door. Ivan stepped quietly inside, shutting the door behind him.
Leaning his back against the door, he surveyed the kitchen.
Ivan took a deep breath, slowly releasing it until his lungs were empty. His mind went off on another tangent.
He was back there. He felt that world rushing back toward him.
He'd worked to rid himself of any inkling he'd ever been gone from the cove. What he needed to do now was recover the mindset that kept him alive for the years he was over there.
Ivan was the cat now.
He felt the house around him. He'd feel it if someone was there.