Tag got up from the cot he used in the back of the Dive Shop. He had it in mind to fill Clay's air tanks before picking up the trash once it was first light. He'd carry the air tanks to the Sea Lab before the first campers began to circulate and possibly discover something they need from the food or camping supply section of the Dive shop.

The trash buggy started right up and he moved down the beach slowly to keep from disturbing the sleeping campers on the campsites on the beach. Tag was in no hurry. He moved to each campsite as he worked his way back toward the shop. He sat from time to time, after picking up the trash and returning it to the can, picturing how Ivan ran the trash to get his morning exercise.

Ivan didn't have an ounce of fat on his body, and it amused Tag to see him exercising as if he needed it. Ivan was always in motion, even when he sat still. Ivan had more energy than anyone Tag knew.

He admitted to himself that he missed the boss. He missed his friend. He missed Dylan, but Clay came to the shop every day and Tag felt closer to Clay than before Ivan left.

Clay was reassuring in all ways, except when it came to making him feel like Ivan would be back soon. Tag picked up on Clay's worrisome words concerning the man he loved. Tag was sure Ivan would return. He had no evidence of it but he couldn't imagine his life without Ivan Aleksa being in it.

He remembered the day he interviewed for the job Ivan advertised before any of the Cove Enterprises was built. He sat down for the interview and Ivan asked him questions that didn't seem all that serious.

"You're Twila's kid, aren't you?"

"Yes, Sir," Tag had answered.

"You've got the job if you want it. I don't need to know more than that. Twila is the most standup woman I know. I've got to tell you, I can't pay much and the work will be hard. I need someone I can trust to be on time every day. I'm going to build this cove into a vacation hot spot on the beach for ordinary folks who want a nice place to go without spending a lot of money."

"Sounds like a job I would like. I live at home. I don't mind sweating. Mama believes a man should never be late or act like he wants to be anywhere but where he's at."

"Your Mama nursed my son, you know. After Sunshine died."

"Clay's wife died?"

"It's a long story. Clay's my best friend. He raised my son. I didn't know he was my son, but your mother nursed him while Sunshine was sick. That makes her tops with me," Ivan said.

It had been nearly five years since he sat for the interview. Dylan had been Tag's best friend for nearly ten years. He didn't know that his mother was nursing Dylan after he was first born, but Tag wasn't quite seven at that time, but he remembered the first time Clay brought Dylan to their house to spend the afternoon.

At that time Tag was nearly ten and he made sure Dylan had a good time and didn't want to go home when the time came.

On that first visit, the four year old Dylan was walking and talking like a pro. Tag remembered explaining how to cast his fishing line at the fishing hole. Dylan did it the way Tag showed him. After giving it some thought, Dylan asked Tag if it wouldn't be easier to do it a different way.

At first, Tag thought Dylan was a bit out of line. Tag knew what he was doing. He'd always done it that way because it was how he was taught. Why would he want to do it differently.

When he tried it the way Dylan suggested, it was better. A four year old figured out how to do it better, while Tag never questioned how he did it. Dylan thought about what he'd been shown and he decided doing it another way was better, and he was right. He taught Tag to think about how he did things.

Tag wanted to be Dylan's friend after that. Dylan had taught him a valuable lesson. Think about how you do stuff, and you might think up a better way. They'd been friends ever since. They had an easy friendship that worked without much effort going into it.

Tag stopped treating Dylan like a four year old and he began seeing him as the kind of friend he wanted. Tag was friends with his Uncle Amos and his big sister's husband, Uncle Jim, but Dylan was the first kid he wanted to be friends with.

After taking the air tanks to the Sea Lab, unlocking the sliding door and taking the tanks to the equipment locker, Tag looked up at the cameras he knew Clay and Dylan used.

When he thought of Dylan, he smiled. He'd be home in a month. He'd take Dylan fishing once he was back.

He went back down the dock a few minutes later. There were two men standing at the front door of the shop when Tag got back.

"Mr Black and Mr Land, what are you two doing up so early?"

"I need some creamer for our coffee, Tag," Mr Land said.

"I was here first," Mr Black said. "Styrofoam cups for me."

"I think I can take care of both of you in about a minute. Who cares who was first?" Tag retorted. "We're all friends at the cove."

Tag gave the man a box of creamers, handing the other man I sleeve with twenty Styrofoam cups.

"$.59 for the cups. $.84 for the creamers. Cash, check, or charge," Tag quipped.

"Here's a buck. Keep the change, Tag. Buy a cup of coffee for yourself."

"Thank you, Mr Land, I shall do that with pleasure."

"Here's two bucks. Keep the change. Get a donut to have with your coffee," Mr Black said.

Mr Land held the door for Mr Black. They walked out together..

Tag opened the top drawer of the gigantic mahogany desk and tossed in the money. The drawer was half full of cash and coins. Tag intended to gather it all up and take it to the bank to deposit it, but he never had time to leave the shop while the bank was open.

Tag poured a cup of coffee and he looked up at the antique motion picture camera Ivan bought at a yard sale years ago. It wasn't on that shelf the day before. Clay was the only one who would touch that piece of history. The last time he saw Dylan's first 16mm camera, it was beside the Nikons on Sea Lab. Clay must have brought it into the shop for some reason. Maybe holding it made him feel closer to Dylan too.

Clay used the underwater Nikons a lot but he'd never shown much interest in motion pictures.

He told Tag once, "It requires a skill I don't possess."

Strange he'd bring that camera off Sea Lab to leave at the shop.

Tag reached for the leather strap. He held the camera the way he'd seen Dylan hold it. It made him feel closer to Dylan. He'd been away the summer before too, but Ivan was here last summer. Tag didn't feel as lonely then as he felt this summer.

He held the camera as he walked away from the back of the shop. He set it down on Ivan's desk. He wondered what the boss was doing. He wondered about Dylan. Last summer Dylan was with Clay. This summer he went alone. Tag imagined Dylan would be homesick for the people in his life at the cove. Tag imagined he'd be homesick if he'd gone off into the Pacific Ocean alone.

He looked at Ivan's chair. He never sat in Ivan's chair. It was Ivan's chair. He sat in one of the deck chairs beside the desk, when he sat at all. He'd never seen Clay sit in Ivan's chair either. Only Harry McCallister sat in Ivan's chair, when he came to the shop, unless Ivan was sitting in it.

Tag spent most of his time behind the counter. It was perfect for holding the Rolling Stone or the latest novel he was reading. When he wasn't reading, he was contemplating a new display for the wall behind the counter.

Tag liked arranging and rearranging things. He liked changing the colors. He liked bold colors that liven up the shop.

There was too much to do these days to plan a new display. Tag needed to be left alone to get his creative juices flowing. There was always too much to do. Someone was always coming or going. He was the one who could help them.

Ivan wanted to send Tag to design school to learn interior decorating, but Tag loved working with Ivan. They were always busy building the next thing Ivan came up with. Tag enjoyed hard work. He liked being Ivan's right hand man. He was there when Ivan needed someone to be there to help him. He worked for Ivan from the beginning, while they were building the Cove Campgrounds. There had been no time for more school, and now Tag had to do everything.

He picked up the camera and he could picture Dylan with it in his hands. He'd watched Dylan create a movie about his life at the cove. Tag was in the movie. Everyone in the cove was in Dylan's movie that was about his life.

Tag leaned on the counter and thought about his missing friends.

At a little after eight, Clay came into the shop. He went back to the coffee pot and poured himself some coffee. Clay sat beside the gigantic mahogany desk, picking up the camera Tag left on the desk.

"Contemplating a career change?" Clay asked. "My son has a camera like this. He's a photographer, you know, Taggart."

"I know your son. No, I just wanted to hold it. I can see him when I hold his camera. I can feel him through it," Tag said. "It was like part of him when Ivan first bought it for him."

"You miss him too, Taggart? I guess we aren't the only ones."

"I do. No more than I missed him last year. You both were gone last year. Ivan and I spent a lot of time wondering what you were up to. Now Ivan's gone too. It just leaves me to wonder."

"Me, too," Clay said.

This had been the routine for most of July. Clay had little to do with both Ivan and Dylan away, and so he came to sit with Tag and advise him on anything that was troubling him. Today he was thinking about their missing men.

It was hard to believe he'd known Taggart for as long as he had. He was twenty-two now. He'd been going on seven the first time Clay took Dylan to spend the day with Twila. Taggart and Dylan hit it off right away. They'd been best friends ever since.

*****

Meanwhile, in Washington DC.

"Senator, Bob Alexander. They're in the air."

"Thank God," Harry said, letting out his frustration and apprehension. "I don't remember giving you my private number."

"Senator, my company cleans your phones twice a week. You don't think I might notice something like one private line installed outside the rest of your phones? Anyway, that's not why I called. We've got a problem."

"How did I know this wasn't a friendly 'how the hell are you' phone call?"

"It's not how we roll, Senator. You're a go getter. I'm a fixer. Someone is trying to get someone on that plane off that plane."

"Ivan?"

"That would be my guess too."

"When will they arrive in Tampa, Bob?"

"Shortly after noon tomorrow, or is tomorrow today already? Sunday afternoon, whenever that is. You better go meet that plane if you want to see Ivan. I've got to figure someone is going to be there waiting for that plane. I can't stop them, Harry. I won't go to jail for a client. I don't know who can stop it, but that's what we're looking at."

"No one wants you to stick your neck out that far, Bob. You've done what I hired you to do. Ivan is on the way home. It's up to me to keep him there."

"I did the job you paid me to do, I can't do what I promised Clay I'd do, and that bothers me. I'm a man of my word, Senator. I don't like breaking it."

"What came of Ivan's handlers? They didn't make an effort to recover him?"

"They did. They tried to get Ivan and the general in an ambush. That general had them playing right into his hand. They all came to the dance, and he put the whole kit and caboodle in handcuffs. Hauled them all off to the local jail on Wednesday. He had them put on their plane and flown out of Cambodia on Thursday. There was a sniper on a rooftop waiting for the general, but his men let him think he was going to get a shot at him right before they took him into custody. He'll be in Cambodia for a long, long time, is my guess," Bob said.

"Music to my ears, Bob. Why can't they let Ivan go back to his life?"

"I don't know the answer to that, Harry. I'd guess it has something to do with politics. Who do they hurt by holding Ivan on some bogus charge? He's no good to them concerning the general any longer. The Company does hold grudges, but those are usually political, not personal."

"They hurt me, Bob. I'm connected to Ivan at the hip. I've already gone around with one director. How long would it take to draw the line from Ivan to me. They've figured out that I put you up to this, and I bet this director believes that he can twist the knife until I cry uncle, but I don't cry uncle quite so easily. I don't like the Company. I'd never do their bidding. I'll leave politics first."

"I'd not considered your history concerning Ivan. Your guess at what they want with Ivan is as good as mine, maybe better. We need to wait and see."

"Let's back up a bit, Bob. Tell me everything I don't know about the operation, up until the part where you said, we've got a problem. I need some context on what it is I'm looking at."

"They let Ivan's handlers fly out of Cambodia Thursday. They were told to never come back unless they wanted to be charged with conspiracy to commit murder. I imagine they were in Washington Friday. John Carl arrived back at my headquarters on Friday. He gave me his report. It was all according to Hoyle, until I got the call from my Philippine base a few hours ago. I needed to consult with John Carl to get his read on the situation."

"It seems the Star-lighter Eagle, the North American 747 I lease from North American airlines, was contacted by Honolulu six or eight hours ago now. They were ordered to land in Honolulu. The pilot, Harvey Miller, said he had radio problems. He never did hear the message from Honolulu. He went silent on the radio. My man Schneider contacted my base in the Philippines to relay a message to me concerning the Honolulu contact. They, my pilot, was plotting a course to take them far enough south to cross Mexico and come out in the Gulf of Mexico on the Yucatan peninsula," Bob Alexander said.

"Once they reach the Gulf, it's between 700 and 800 miles to Tampa. No one has to guess if they were trying to get us to land in Honolulu, they'll be waiting for us to land in Tampa. You may read it differently, but that's what experience tells me. I'm at a loss for what move to make next. I called you."

"You have a Philippines base, Bob?"

"Where my country goes, I go with them, Senator, but I have sense enough not to cross swords with the Company if it can be avoided. I don't think they knew the Minute Men were in Cambodia until General Kenji invited us to the roundup of Ivan's handlers. All they know about me is, I lease the plane and pilot from year to year on a contract with North American Airlines. They would have checked to see who the North American airliner was there for. My lease is a matter of public records. Which tells them the Minute Men were there."

"What do they know about me, Bob? You do know that a senator hiring a military contractor to do his personal bidding could get me a stretch in the federal slammer," Harry said.

"Senator, your name doesn't appear anywhere in my files. Your money was processed through a shell company with no ties to the Minute Men. You're clean as a hound's tooth on this end, Harry. They could waterboard me and I'd never say I did business with you. My word is my bond, Senator. As far as I know, I've never crossed your path. I may have seen something about you on the news."

"The meeting at the Hay-Adams hotel, Bob?"

"Harry, you met with Hans Wesnewski from Munich. You don't remember that? Robert Alexander has never been in the Hay-Adams Hotel."

"You're a smooth operator. I never gave things like that a thought, Bob." "Senator, I have been at this for long enough to know how to cover my tracks. I know what a risk you took when you hired me to go get Ivan. I am smart enough to cover your tracks as well as mine. What you were doing was trying to help a friend. I was doing the same thing."

"Thank you, Bob. I'm afraid even if they can't tie me to you, they can tie me to Ivan, and that's all they need to know."

"It's a matter of survival, Harry. I don't want to go to the slammer on a conspiracy charge any more than you do, and I take precautions to avoid it."

Harry laughed and felt better about his dealings with Bob. He did seem like a man who knew what he was doing, even when he wasn't doing it.

"How'd your pilot get past Honolulu's radar?"

"Flew below the radar when he made his turn south. Probably was never on their radar, and if he was, he'd have just been a blip that came and went. The Pacific Ocean is huge. There's a lot of military activity the aircraft controllers never know who or what they are."

"I see," Harry said, trying to think of some way to avoid what he knew he had to do.

"If you want your boy back, you better put a stop to whatever has been set in motion. They land in Tampa in ten hours. He'll stay south of the radar for as long as possible, but he's going to need to radio Tampa for landing instructions. Once they do that, they'll be on everyone's radar screen big time."

"No chance of diverting. Some kind of emergency on board?"

"He's got just enough fuel to reach the closest major airport in Florida. That's Tampa. They're landing in Tampa, Harry."

"I only have one card I can play, Bob. If I play it, and if it goes sour, I don't know what happens after that."

"Senator, you're one of the most powerful men in the American government, which makes you one of the most powerful men in the world. You need to put that power to work for you, or we'll all be looking for employment, once we get out of the federal lockup. I've done all I can do. I'm getting Ivan home for you. You've got to find a way to keep him there. Play your card. We'll need to accept the consequences. I'd rather you do that than sit here waiting. The CIA doesn't like to take a screwing from the likes of us."

"What do you suggest, Bob?" Harry asked. "Off the top of your head."

"Put the fear of God in your enemies, Harry. Hit them with all you have. It's time to bring out the heavy artillery, and just maybe you'll scare them enough to make them change course. What do you have to lose? That's what I'd do if I were you, Senator, and I'm thankful I'm not you right now."

"You don't know how much I hate it when you're right, Alexander."

"When it's over, Harry, Let's meet for a drink. Just hope it isn't in 10 to 20."

"Thanks, Bob. I'll get back to you. How do I reach you?"

"Same number. They always know where I am."

Harry held his finger on the disconnect and reached for his bourbon and branch. He lifted his finger to dial a number he knew.

"The director," Harry said with authority.

"Do you know what time it is?"

"No, but you're about to find out what time it is, Son. I'm a Goddamn United States Senator, and you better have the director on the phone in five minutes or I'm going to have both your asses for breakfast. You got it, Son?"

"Yes, Sir, but he's in bed."

"Get him up, and when you do, whisper in his ear, it's Senator Harry McCallister on the line. He'll know what its about."