This story takes place late in the third season and is the sequel to Where the Gentle Beasts Lead.  ...Can Harry and Chip find Lee in time before Captain Victor Ruiz exacts his final revenge on Seaview's Captain?

 

 

Bailey's Victory

 

by Lynn

 

 

Three frogmen swam stealthily along the deep cavern that led to the underwater sub pen where SSRN Seaview was berthed in her home port of Santa Barbara, California.  They had swam a long distance to avoid detection having come from a surface boat, a pleasure cruiser sitting off shore on a nearby public beach.

 

As they reached the sub, the Leader motioned the other two to follow as he dove deeper, swimming aft until they found the moon pool.  He headed up guided by the light illuminating in the compartment above him.    Slowly, each of the men's heads surfaced as they perused their surroundings.  The Leader nodded and then moved forward to the edge of the pool.  In a short time, the men were inside taking off their tanks and dive gear.

 

They had successfully entered the Seaview, completely evading the sub's security system.  The Leader pulled off his mask and head gear as little drips of water ran down the sides of his face.  They peeled down to the neoprene biking gear worn under their wet suits as the Leader tilted his head to the door, giving the signal to follow him.  Getting aboard was one thing, making their objective was another.  The sub was at her most vulnerable here in port, with very few crewmen on board and all maintenance projects having been completed since the sub would be leaving port in two days. 

 

The three invaders had no trouble working themselves through the Boat until the leader guided his men to a T in the corridor.  He nodded as each man silently received their orders and took a separate corridor.  One invader headed to the circuitry room and entered.  He pulled out a copper penny, opened a door marked “High Voltage” and slid the penny into place, breaking a connection, then turned and headed to the vent shaft.

 

The second man headed to the Armory, picked the lock and entered the room.  He took each of the sidearms and rifles and dismantled the action, as if readying the weapons for cleaning.  Quickly, quietly and with expert ease he efficiently worked producing a worthless armament of weapons that could not fire to protect the boat.   When he was done, he took his stockpile of weaponry parts stuffing them into an ammo bag and climbed into the ventilation shaft.

 

The third man, the Leader, followed his corridor forward and hid twice as security made their rounds.  He continued until he reached the Control Room entering at a crouch to avoid detection from the two men who were seated in front of the windows and looking over reports sprawled across the conference table.

 

The Leader moved to his left, knowing exactly where he needed to go as he entered into the radio shack and moved behind the operator's console.  He pulled out a small tool kit from the strap around his calf and quietly unscrewed the access panel.  Once inside he cut a single wire and replaced the panel.  Then he retraced his stealth steps out of the Control Room as the two men at the table, one blond the other auburn haired continued to talk in low tones, apparently unaware of their invasion.

 

Once inside the corridor, the Leader took to a ventilator shaft and began working his way to his objective.  Some ten minutes later he opened the vent door and slid down into the Admiral's cabin.  His two men were already there as he shot them a “well done” smile.  Then the Leader reached for the Admiral's intercom and depressed the button.

 

“We're on board and your boat has been compromised.”  That's all he said as he waited for the frantic search to begin for the Boats' invaders.

 

The Leader checked his watch and then decided to raise the stakes as they waited for the inevitable search party to check the Admiral's Cabin.  He moved toward the wall safe and turned the dial listening intently as his two partners in crime watched with growing smiles.  He turned to the left and then rested, turned the combination two full turns to the right and rested on another number and moved to first letter back to the left.  A “click” was heard and the safe opened.  The Leader smiled opening the safe door completely to sit ajar and then strolled to the Admiral's chair and sat down.  He took his feet and rested them arrogantly across the top of Nelson's desk, crossing his legs at the ankles and leaning back on the executive chair.  His two partners stood on either side of him behind the desk, flanking their Leader as the Security Detail burst through the door.

 

They trained their guns on the three men, but not a one raised their hands in surrender.  The Master at Arms leaned over cursing as he did so and depressed the Admiral's intercom. 

 

“They're in the Admiral's cabin, Sir.”

 

Morton's efficient voice was heard.  “Hold them there, and watch the Leader, he's dangerous.”

 

The Leader let loose a small agreeing smile keeping his perfectly relaxed stance as only a few moments passed before a fiery auburn haired Admiral Harriman Nelson stormed into his cabin, followed by his tall blond haired blue eyed Exec, both holding side arms.

 

Nelson took one appraising look around the cabin spotting his open safe door as the Leader's smile grew.

 

“Go ahead Admiral.  Try and call for help, your radio's dead.  Try to engage engines, you'll not have power.  And try to arm your crew; those sidearms from the Control Room are the only weapons functioning on board.” 

 

His smile widened as Admiral Nelson holstered his sidearm and moved toward the Leader still reclining at his desk.  In one swift and frustrating movement he knocked the Leader's feet off his desk as he looked darkly into the eyes of the dark haired, hazel green eyed Leader, one Captain Lee Crane.  Lee chuckled and then acquiesced, knowing that he, Kowalski and Patterson had overplayed their security check.

 

Harry gave way to the genius of his Captain and let loose a small chuckle mixed with frustration.  Seaview had been compromised; it was a serious matter, but the fact that the weaknesses had been exposed by the sometimes spy, Captain Lee Crane was at least some consolation.

 

“Alright.  You three change and meet us at the Front Porch and we'll all get to share in the humor of your little game.”

 

The Admiral's sarcastic statement was delivered with a small smile as Ski and Pat shook their heads and chuckled lightly heading for the door.  The MA left first, still cursing as he headed to the Control Room, followed by the Exec who wasn't nearly as amused as the Admiral.  Lee started to follow when Harry caught him by the elbow stopping his forward motion and pointing toward his safe.

 

Lee laughed and shook his head.  “Sorry Admiral.  I couldn't resist.”

 

“How did you?... Oh never mind.”

 

Harry shook his head trying to decide whether to be proud of the skills of his Captain or ticked off at his arrogance in the matter.  He returned Lee's laugh, deciding to lighten the mood.

 

“Just get changed, and then you can report on the damage you did.”

 

“Nothing permanent,” Lee assured him as he left heading into the corridors of Officer's Country to the Captain's Cabin.

 

* * * * *

 

Lee sat forward at the conference table with his hands folded in front of him.  He was all business.  He intended to plug the holes in Seaview's security.  He had taken the time to shower and shave and was now sitting in his khaki's in perfect grooming standards for his position as Captain of the Boat.  All traces of his early morning swim and subsequent sabotage was missing as he briefed Harry, Chip, and the NIMR's Chief of Security, Devon “Tank” Thompson. 

 

The pile of weaponry parts was sitting in front of Kowalski as Tank sent a glare his way.  But the exercise had been worth its effort to improve upon Seaview's security and keep the most powerful submarine on earth secure; her nuclear payload demanded such extremes.

 

“I suggest Seaman Kowalski spend the afternoon cleaning these weapons and returning them to working order,” Tank said, not amused with this part of the security “game”.

 

“Belay that,” Lee added easily.  “Seamans Kowalski and Patterson are going to take the rest of the afternoon off and tomorrow as well.  We spent a good deal of our own time planning this caper.”

 

Harry agreed as Chip sat back with his arms folded.

 

“What about it Chip?  Can you spare Ski and Pat till we shove off?” Lee asked the XO.

 

“Sure Lee.”  Chip let loose the first smile since Seaview had been compromised as he addressed the ratings.

 

“Go ahead you two, and good job.”

 

“Thanks Mr. Morton,” Patterson said rising from his chair and following Ski headed aft for the ladder.

 

“Don't look so glum, Tank,” Lee offered the MA (Master at Arms) with an easy smile that turned more serious as he continued.  “You've only been here six months and the important thing here is to keep this from happening in the future.”

 

Tank sighed audibly.  “Aye Sir.  It's just that I never thought I'd be invaded by my own Skipper,” he answered with some exasperation.

 

“I understand.  I suggest we put these matters to thought and sit at another round table discussion after we return from sea,” Lee offered.

 

Harry agreed, realizing that some sort of electronic warning system would need to be devised for the moon pool entry point.  It would take some thinking.

 

“Aye Sir,” Tank replied and Chip nodded in agreement.

 

“Very well, Chief.  Mr. Morton will schedule a meeting and we'll begin brainstorming fixes.  Dismissed.”  Lee offered with a smile trying to soften the blow to the man responsible for the security of Seaview while at her home port.

 

Tank stood and nodded his understanding and headed aft to the ladder as well.

 

Chip shuddered.  “I'd hate to be his crew when he gives the debrief on the events of the day,” he said with a small chuckle. 

 

Lee and Harry agreed passing knowing looks each other's way. 

 

“Well Lee,” Harry said slapping his Captain on the back as he rose.  “I understand you had a nice little two mile swim this morning.  I suggest you follow the lead of your 'Comrades at Mischief',” Chip tried to unsuccessfully hide his laugh at the Admiral's colorful description of Patterson and Kowalski.  “And take the next day and half off as well.”

 

“That's not necessary, Admiral,” Lee immediately countered.

 

Harry raised a hand in the air, dispelling Lee's arguments.  “You said yourself, you spent a good deal of your own time planning this escapade, and we have a long cruise ahead of us.  So...” Harry's tone turned completely Four-Star, “You will stand down and report at 0700 hours the day after tomorrow for departure.”

 

Lee opened his mouth to protest, but quickly acquiesced with a small chuckle.  “Aye Sir.  And thank you Sir.  There is a certain young lady that has been a bit miffed at my inattention these last two weeks.”

 

“Fine Lee.  You've given us a lot to think about, but for the next day and a half you get recharged.  Seaview deserves her Captain to be well rested and ready for action.”

 

Lee nodded rising from his chair as well as Harry moved up the spiral staircase and Chip followed his Captain towards the aft sail ladder.

 

“So are you and Francine still and item?  I thought she'd gotten fed up of your sailing schedule?”  It was a problem that both Lee and Chip had dealt with over their naval careers.  Chip had at least found a woman who could handle his absence, choosing to pour her energies into the great reunions they would inevitably have when he returned.   But Lee had found it more difficult as he had the double duties of his Captaincy and the unexpected ONI missions that he couldn't talk with his lady friends about.

 

“Oh, she's not completely happy with me, but I'll make it up with dinner at Giovani's tonight,” Lee answered with a smile as he reached for a rung on the ladder.

 

“Listen Chip,” he continued.  “I'm going to stop by my office and pick up my briefcase, but you call me, shore leave or not, if there's anything I need to know about,” he admonished.

 

“Aye Skipper,” Chip replied as Lee returned his smile and climbed out the sail ladder topside.

 

* * * * *

 

Lee Crane stood on the deck of Francine's high rise beach-side condo overlooking the Pacific Ocean.  He had come bringing a “peace offering” of flowers and an invitation to dinner, but Francine was ready with both barrels loaded and aimed squarely at Seaview's Captain.  Even the beautiful sunset on the horizon couldn't dispel the coming storm Francine was about to deliver.

 

“Really, Lee,” the tall elegant model said with ample disgust.  “You've been home for three weeks and I've only seen you twice, and now you want to wine and dine me tonight just because your pressing schedule can allow it?” 

 

“Francine, I've already explained that sometimes my duties leave me with very little down time.”

 

“When we first started dating I thought it was going to be so cool dating the Captain of the Seaview.  I told all my friends and they were jealous, but in the three months we've been dating you've only taken me to one Ball and only wore your Dress Whites once!”

 

Lee was shocked by the tirade, What did wearing his dress whites have to do with his absence lately?

 

“I don't know, Lee.  I just expected us to be hitting the red carpet and going to naval balls and well... you're just not like what I thought an officer would be.”

 

Lee shook his head, and resigned himself to another breakup.  Somehow, he couldn't imagine Monica ever talking to Chip like this and frankly, he was seeing Francine in a whole new light.  She was obviously a beautiful woman but apparently their friendship was predicated upon how many times he paraded her around on his arm.  He already knew they weren't compatible and figured now would be as good a time as any to break it off.  He graciously allowed her to do the dumping as he left her apartment somewhat relieved that he hadn't invested anymore of his life into the drop dead gorgeous model.

 

He settled into his Shelby Cobra turning over the ignition to the little red mustang and let the uncomfortable exchange he had just been party to release.  Maybe a drive with the wind in his face would feel good.  Then he'd head home, call for pizza and work on the reports he had brought home in his briefcase.  It wasn't the end of the world just not the best way to start a four week cruise, still it wasn't new ground he was treading either.  He was starting to realize that ever since he had been watching Chip and Monica's romance budding into the solid marriage they had now, that he had longed for a woman of Monica's calibre.  He was pretty sure she was out there so he wasn't going to sweat it, and for now he'd do what he always did... throw himself into the job he loved, the Boat that held his heart, and the sea that continually called to him.

 

He pulled up to his beach-side home and parked his prized car in the garage, closing the garage door with a touch of a button.  He was whistling as he entered his house, completely refreshed and not at all traumatized by Francine's not so unexpected “dumping”.  As he entered the house he tossed his keys on the living room coffee table and was immediately met by a strong arm around his neck as a familiar voice spoke into his ear.

 

“Hello Captain, surprised to see me?”

 

Before he could answer he felt a sharp jab as a needle was shoved into his neck and then a near instant reaction as his body lost its ability to stand.  His legs went limp as his attacker allowed him to crumble to the ground at his feet.

 

Lee looked up as his eyes fluttered and caught the face of Captain Victor Ruiz.*  He had two other men flanking him as Lee's eyes locked with Ruiz.  Victor's rage grew and before the drug could take Lee to unconsciousness he reeled back and delivered a devastating kick to his side.  His cry was muffled by the drug's strong affects as Lee inadvertently hit the coffee table setting a vase off balance and crashing to the floor.

 

“Bring the van around,” Ruiz ordered as he looked down at the man who had killed his brother and took all hopes of commanding the Renegade from him.  He wanted more from Lee Crane than for him to die.  He wanted Lee Crane to die slowly.

 

* * * * *

 

Harry looked at his watch again as he took to the spiral staircase and scanned the Control Room; 0730 and he hadn't heard from Lee.  It irritated him slightly as he had been gracious enough to reward Lee with this time off, the least he could do was show up on time.

 

“Anything?” Harry all but growled.

 

“No Sir,” Chip replied hoping Lee had a real good excuse for being late, like appendicitis or something.  “Angie tried his house, but there's no response.  Perhaps he got held up in traffic.”

 

“Traffic,” Harry said sourly.  “He only lives five miles from the Institute!”

 

Almost immediately he deflated as both his and Chip's expressions changed, realizing that this wasn't standard operating procedure for the ever efficient and overly dedicated Captain of Seaview.

 

“Chip, when was the last time you spoke to Lee?”

 

“A day a half ago, right here on Seaview,” he answered.  “How about you Sir?”

 

“The same,” Harry replied, his irritation gone and now replaced with concern.  “Have Chief Thompson go check Lee's house,” he finished with resolve.

 

“Aye Sir.”

 

Chip moved to the radio shack with purpose, relieved Harry had realized that Lee's tardiness was uncharacteristic.

 

“Sparks, raise Security.  I need to speak with Chief Thompson ASAP.”

 

“Aye Sir.”

 

A few moments later the deep voice of NIMR's Chief of Security was answering.

 

“Security, Thompson here.”

 

“Tank, this is Mr. Morton.  Captain Crane is late reporting in.  Check with the gate, if he hasn't passed through head on over to his house and report back.”

 

“Aye Sir.”

 

Chip could hear the determined resolve in Tank's voice as he immediately registered the concern and possible dangers.  Tank was good.  The best.  He knew the MA would get to the bottom of things.

 

* * * * *

 

Tank hung up the phone and immediately dialed up the front gate.

 

“Jackson, this is Tank.  Has Captain Crane checked through the gate?”

 

“Negative Chief.  Lots of crew coming through, but not Captain Crane.”

 

“Alright, call me by radio if he arrives.”

 

Tank hung up the phone and pursed his bottom lip.  He was a big man 6'4” tall and 265 pounds.  He was an All-American linebacker in high school and had been recruited heavily to play college ball, but his dream ever since he could remember was to join the Navy, so he enlisted right out of high school.  He was pegged for Master at Arms service because of his size, his comfortable ease with fire arms, and his high aptitude.  He was a career Navy man, or at least he thought he'd be, until he was recruited to the Seaview.  He knew he'd be crazy to not seriously consider the Admiral's offer.  Chief of all Security meant he spent most of his time at NIMR's port, but he got in enough sub time to keep his life interesting.  It was perfect for his family and his wife and children were flourishing in their new life in California.

 

He wasn't the first black man to work for Nelson or sail on Seaview and he appreciated that.  He wasn't here to fill quotas or to be the “token” minority.  He was good at what he did, and the Admiral had made it clear that he expected the best from all his personnel.  He was enjoying the challenge and figured he'd found a place to set down permanent roots.

 

Tank walked to his NIMR issued Security SUV with purpose as he tagged one of his men to come along.  Together they made their way just fifteen minutes north of the Institute to Crane's home.

 

Tank rang the doorbell, and then knocked when he got no response.  Morton sounded worried, so Tank took that to mean he should investigate as much as possible.  He moved around to the back of the house to the redwood deck that overlooked the beach.  The drapes were open and he peered in looking past the well-kept dining room to the living room.  The broken vase on the floor was his first alert, the keys on the coffee table was his second. 

 

Tank moved back around to the front of the house and knocked again.  Then he pulled his keys out and selected the key to Captain Crane's home; as Chief of Security it made sense that he should have access to the Command Crew's homes for various reasons.

 

“Captain Crane?”

 

He entered hearing no response and investigated the “scene”.  That's exactly what Tank perceived it to be, because the broken vase was completely out of place in this well-kept orderly house.  He picked up the keys sprawled on the coffee table, keys not only to the Captain's car but to the Institute and vital compartments on Seaview.

 

“Check upstairs Hansen,” he said as Tank headed to the garage to verify that the Skipper's car was still there.  It was, so he reentered the house and moved immediately to the deck, checking to see if the Captain was on the beach somewhere.

 

“He's not there, Chief.”

 

“What does it look like up there?”

 

“Completely orderly.  The bed's made, clothes are in the hamper, nothing out of the ordinary,” Hansen reported.

 

Tank nodded, looking back at the broken vase on the floor and holding Crane's keys as he spoke.

 

“Something's wrong, Hansen.  Let's call Mr. Morton.”

 

* * * * *

 

Tank had reported to Chip and after calling Francine it was determined that the last time Lee had been accounted for was a day and a half ago.  Both Harry and Chip had joined Tank at Lee's house and a missing person's report had been filed with SBPD.  There was little physical evidence at the house, other than Tank's hunch, but Chip had no doubt that the Chief was correct.  Lee Crane had been abducted.

 

* * * * *

 

Lee moaned as his awareness returned.  He was black and blue all over, his face revealing the telltale signs of a beaten man.  His left hand lay splayed across his middle, the other hand lying useless to his side, tethered to a ring on the wall.

 

He had been beaten at regular intervals, when Ruiz tired of the deeds, his thugs took over kicking and punching till he blacked out.  Over and over he heard the last moments aboard Tomas Ruiz' sub, but the facts were all distorted.  Victor Ruiz hailed his brother as a patriot and hero, and Lee as a criminal against humanity.  He claimed Lee had ruthlessly beaten his brother and then in execution style shot him point blank in the chest.  He claimed that Tomas Ruiz was alive when Lee fled the submarine as it quickly took on water, and that he drowned to death unable to move off the deck.

 

Ruiz wanted a confession to this effect, but Lee resolved to not give in, even when Victor promised to end his life quickly once he gave him what he wanted.  Lee refused and the beatings continued. 

 

His “cell” was a room without windows, so he had no reference for how much time had passed since he was abducted from his home and woke up in this run down building.  His watch had been taken, and it felt like he'd been here an eternity, though he surmised it had only been a couple of days.  His gray shirt and dark slacks he had worn to Francine's were no longer clean and pressed, but dirty and bloody.  He heard the door open, but didn't turn his head to see who was there.  He already knew the drill, it was time for another session with a mad man.

 

* * * * *

 

“I'm sorry Admiral Nelson,” Detective Lansbury offered.  “But there are no prints, and none of the neighbors saw anything out of the ordinary.”

 

Tank had already found the likely entry point, an expertly jimmied front door with very little marks to show for the effort.  So SBPD hadn't doubted the possible abduction, but they simply didn't have enough clues to move the investigation forward.

 

Harry had delayed Seaview's departure and was still considering sending the vessel out with Chip at the helm to fulfill the sub's contract.  He may be the owner, but even he had to honor the contracts in place for Seaview's services. 

 

“So until we get a ransom note,” Lansbury continued, “or some other physical evidence to investigate, we're just at a standstill,” the officer finished apologetically.

 

Tank was standing nearby taking in the Detective's words and looking off into the distance.

 

“Maybe there is something else we can do, Admiral,” Tank said quietly and emphasizing the verb 'is'.

 

Harry and Chip turned toward Chief Thompson whose face revealed a man with a plan.

 

* * * * *

 

Lee was dragged from his cell, his legs barely working.  He was back in the familiar room where Ruiz was waiting for him.  He was as tall as Lee, and Victor still wore his head clean shaven.  His eyes were a piercing brown mixed ever so slightly with green flecks.  He had buffed up since the last time Lee had seen him, obviously spending a great deal of time lifting weights.  He was still dedicated to his twin brother, but tenaciously held on to the “facts” that would make his brother a hero and Lee a murderer.

 

Lee hung in between his two guards staring Victor as much in the eyes as possible.  The bruises on his face were beginning to overtake his facial features as the dark and angry contusions began to swell under the mistreatment.  He was bleeding from the lip and a cut high on his cheek bone.  Breathing was hard due to the broken and cracked ribs he bore.

 

Lee realized that Victor was probably insane, having gone beyond the grieving brother to something different, something very dangerous. 

 

“You beat my brother!”  Victor bellowed out.

 

“No,” Lee answered breathily.  “We struggled and exchanged punches.”

 

“Liar!”  Victor reeled back and delivered another blow to Lee's chin eliciting a grunt from his victim.

 

“You executed him!”  Victor said, repeating the flawed scenario yet again.

 

“No.  We fought over the gun and it went off.”

 

“Liar!” Victor yelled in higher decibels than earlier, as he delivered two more blows to Lee face, leaving him squinting to bring his eyes back into focus.

 

“You left him to drown in the rising waters!”

 

“No.  I checked him...he was dead when I left.”

 

“ahhgggg!” Victor yelled in a primal rage that reached his piercing eyes as he descended on Lee landing blow after blow to his already damaged mid-section.

 

Lee hung heavily on his captors as he felt them release him where he crumbled to the floor breathing heavily.  Through the haze of his pain and his own deep breaths he could hear and feel the heated breaths of Victor moving over him.  Roughly Victor turned Lee to his back as Lee caught the gun in his hand, pointed squarely at Lee's chest.

 

Lee watched, resolving himself to die as Victor knelt over him resting the nuzzle of the gun directly on his chest.  With every raise of Lee's chest as he breathed he could feel the sharp end of the gun.  Victor cocked the handgun and Lee closed his eyes, choosing not to die looking into the eyes of a mad man.  Victor continued to rest the gun on his chest, simulating in his own mind Crane's dastardly deeds inflicted on his brother, then he stood.  Lee opened his eyes as Victor spoke.

 

“No Crane, I can't guarantee you'd survive like Tomas did.   He was a strong man, not like you.”

 

Ruiz began to circle Lee and somehow Lee knew he wasn't out of the woods yet.

 

“Still... you need to feel what Tomas did.”  With that he pointed the gun toward Lee's thigh and squeezed the trigger as the report of the gun and the searing pain registered simultaneously as Lee screamed reaching for his left leg.

 

“Take him back to his cell,” Ruiz said as his men picked Lee up by the arms and dragged him back to his cell.

 

* * * * *

 

Everyone turned toward Tank as his eyes shone with resolve.

 

“You have an idea Chief?” Harry said, prodding Tank on to share his thoughts.

 

“Aye Sir.  I belong to a civilian dog club Sir.  We train our dogs to 'man-trail'.”  Harry's eyes sharpened as Tank continued.  “Our dogs are used to help find people lost in the wilderness, sometimes to help find Alzheimer’s victims who get disoriented, and even to assist the police in kidnappings or criminal pursuit.”

 

The SBPD Detective stepped forward, “It's true, our department has used their club often over the years.”

 

“But it's been almost two days?” Harry said clarifying the actual chance of success they might have bringing in a dog and his handler.

 

“We 'man-trail' with Bloodhounds, Sir.  There are documented cases of Bloodhounds picking up scents along a contaminated trail five days old sometimes even longer, Sir,” Tank answered with expert knowledge.

 

“Very well, Chief.  I don't see we have too much of a choice here.  Do you know which dogs and handlers to call?”

 

“It's best to man-trail a scene with one dog Sir, and I do have a dog and handler in mind.  Me.”

 

Harry cracked a tight lipped smile, despite his present concern for Lee as he pondered the depth of expertise of his Chief of Security.

 

“Very well, Chief.  Let's get this moving as soon as possible.”

 

Everyone knew that with no ransom, the motive for Lee's abduction couldn't be good.

 

* * * * *

 

Lee held his thigh trying to hold his life's blood inside but the pain of his beatings and the new pain of a bullet fired at close range into this thigh was about to do him in.  He had been tethered to the wall once again and hadn't been able to find a way to escape.  He'd been worn down physically to the point that he couldn't fight back anymore, his struggles were ineffectual and he had decided to not spend what energy he had left.

 

As he lay there he wondered if he had been missed yet.  He had blacked out too many times to know what day it was, but he guessed it was Seaview's sailing day.  Surely they would investigate his lack of reporting.  Of course, they would, he said chiding himself for the doubt that had crept in.  Harry and Chip would leave no stone unturned, he only hoped there was something for them to follow, some way for his friends to find him.  If he ever needed a miracle escape it was now.  He breathed hard again, willing his breaths to slow and then closed his eyes to conserve his strength.  All he could do now was to hang on until Harry and Chip found him.

 

* * * * *

 

Harry was pacing the floor as Chip leaned back against a wall with his arms folded.  If they didn't get a break soon Harry was going to send Chip out with Seaview.  Chip knew it was a possibility and dreaded inwardly the probable order, but he knew it would be necessary and that Harry needed to stick around and drive the investigation onward.

 

It didn't seem right to send Seaview out as if her Captain wasn't in some unknown trouble, but neither was it unheard of as Seaview had sailed many times with her Captain off on an ONI mission, often in great peril.  Only this time, there was no safety net.  No back-up.  Somewhere out there, Lee was on his own unless... unless Tank's dog could work a trail two days old.

 

* * * * *

 

Tank returned to Lee's house and opened the door of the SUV as the floppy eared, wrinkled faced Bloodhound bounded out looking like an overgrown puppy. 

 

“Bailey,” Tank commanded, calling his female bloodhound over to don her harness.  The dog lopped over happily, seeing the harness and understanding that one her most favorite things in the whole world was about to commence.  Once the harness was in place, the whimsical play of the large tan dog with the black saddleback markings transformed from curious puppy-like actions to one of a dog with a job.

 

“Bailey come,” Tank said with a hand rubbing affectionately on the top of her head.  Bailey responded, not necessarily to the obedience commands, bloodhounds are not known so much for their obedience, but for the trail she knew she'd be following.  She entered the house where Harry, Chip and the SBPD Detective stood, waiting and keeping the scene secure.

 

Tank was all business as he spoke.  “Sir, I'll need an article of clothing, preferably something the Captain just wore.”

 

“I'll get it,” Chip said and was gone in a flash up the stairs to Lee's master bath.  He came back with Lee's khaki uniform shirt pulled from the hamper.

 

Tank nodded his approval and lowered himself to give Bailey the scented cloth.  Bailey would latch onto Lee Crane's scent and would ignore the plethora of other scents her long snout would encounter.  She would single out this one important person, the human who belonged to this shirt.  It was a game to the large dog, but it was also a driven instinct to find the source of the scent.

 

“But what will the dog be able to do once tracking the scent to the driveway?” Harry asked perplexed.  “He wasn't walked out of the neighborhood,” Harry finished in slight exasperation.

 

“We're actually not 'tracking' Sir, we're 'trailing',” Tank answered.  Harry's eyebrows sharpened demanding his Chief explain that one to him.

 

“Tracking involves having the dog find one footstep to the next, but trailing is the skill of following the scent found anywhere, even in the air.”

 

“The air?”  Chip repeated.

 

“Yes Sir.  Bloodhounds have been known to follow the trail of a person inside a car with their scent wafting through the windows.”

 

Both Harry and Chip shook their heads.  It was definitely a long shot, but it was all they had.

 

“Okay Sirs, she's ready.  Bailey?”

 

Bailey had nosed around the room finding plenty of Lee scents but had honed into a particular place in the rug.  Tank squatted down gently but firmly moving her determined muzzle out of his way to find a very small dot of blood.

 

“Sirs?” He said, moving aside and allowing Chip, Harry and Detective Lansbury to step in and investigate.

 

“It's been too long to know when it happened,” Lansbury said, “it may have been here for some time, I can't believe we missed it though.”

 

Harry and Chip looked at one another, finding even a small dot of blood didn't fair well for Lee Crane.

 

Tank placed Lee's shirt back in front of Bailey's eager nose as her determination etched up several notches, noticeable to even those who didn't know the dog.

 

Tank allowed her to move forward as she sniffed her way to the door and waited for Tank to open it.  She followed Lee's scent, a strong one as he had been dragged to the waiting vehicle and raised her nose.  The scent was fainter, but her perfect memory of the human's scent she was trailing drove her on and she began to lead Tank forward. 

 

* * * * *

 

Harry and Chip followed behind in NIMR's SUV as Tank walked forward allowing Bailey to lead the way when he finally stopped Bailey's forward motion.  They had been walking at a quick pace for over two hours.

 

“I'll have to stop and water the dog, Sir,” Tank explained.  “They are tenacious and dedicated.  Once they have a scent they won't take care of themselves, they're driven to find the source.”

 

Harry nodded, he knew what that felt like.  That was a pretty good description of what it was like to work long into the night because he was on to some scientific discovery that couldn't wait until he ate dinner or even slept.

 

Tank took care of Bailey's physical needs and the dog seemed to understand that it was break time, taking the time to relieve herself, the first time she had done so since the trail began.  But after the necessities were taken care of Bailey was ready to get back on the trail as Tank assessed her and nodded in agreement producing Lee's shirt once again to refresh that drive that had now become a deep and meaningful part of Bailey's existence.  She was a dog, she didn't know that Lee was in trouble, but her instinct placed a deep “need” in her to find this human.  Somehow she sensed it was important to the humans around her, and she responded to their concern.  She wasn't a “pleaser” puppy likes some breeds, wanting to do anything to keep her master from being unhappy.  Bloodhounds are a bit of a paradox in fact, loving their owners, loyal to a fault, but full of spirit that will buck the obedience training any day if they get a wild hair to do so. 

 

Bailey indicated she was ready and the trail continued heading north on highway 101 until Bailey stopped dead in her tracks, raising her nose to the air and changing directions onto a poorly maintained asphalt road.

 

Both Harry and Chip exchanged glances wondering if Bailey had found the road leading to Lee or had decided to follow a rabbit trail instead.  But a good bloodhound ignores animal scent, a testimony to their dedication, as Bailey honed in on the human's scent that had now become a part of her.  The wrinkles in her snout folded over her face forcing the scents even deeper into her olfactory glands as she continued to instinctively eliminate and ignore all scents that weren't Lee Crane.

 

* * * * *

 

Lee's groans woke him up and he stared at the ceiling over the top of his cot.  He thought maybe the bullet wound had stopped bleeding, but he had lost entirely too much blood.  He was weak and breathing was very much becoming a chore.  As he lay there he thought over Victor Ruiz' chosen modes of torture.  He was pretty sure he knew what was coming next and closed his eyes uttering a silent prayer.  He had no reason to believe he would be found, nothing to help him hold on to hope, but he always viewed hope as coming from someplace beyond his current circumstances.  Maybe it was a better description of faith, he didn't know, but somehow he believed that Harry and Chip would find him.  Call it faith, call it hope... whatever it was it gave him strength to hold on and not release himself to the idea that he was dying.  He started drifting off to sleep when his would-be slumber was interrupted by the sound of the door squeaking open.

 

“Time for round three Crane,” Ruiz said as Lee swallowed, having already deduced what Victor had in mind.

 

* * * * *

 

“What's up this road?” Harry asked Detective Lansbury.

 

“I don't know, could be anything,” he said looking at a map to try and discover where the apparently little used road led.

 

They had no choice, they had nothing else to go on so Harry and Chip piled back into the SUV and continued to follow Tank and his determined hound forward.

 

* * * * *

 

Bailey was a possessive dog, much like all her breed.  All the toys in her yard were her toys, and forget teaching her how to retrieve a thrown ball.  Once you threw it, it belonged to her.  She would parade about the yard in a victory stance until she realized that the game couldn't continue until she gave it back.  Still it was her ball, so if one wanted to play with her, one would have to walk over and pick up the ball that sat possessively in front of the drooling dog. 

 

Yep, Bailey was possessive, and her “toys” meant a lot of things.  Once when Tank was stacking firewood for cozy fires, not necessary for warming the house but providing ambiance in the relatively warm coastal winters, Bailey took an interest. 

 

Tank's son laughed and pointed, “Look Daddy, Bailey's going to help us stack the wood.” 

 

Tank looked over puzzled as Bailey took a small piece of wood and pulled it from his pile.  Sure enough she pranced it over to the neatly stacked wood pile that Tank was working on but instead of leaving it like a good obedient puppy she walked past the orderly stack and sat it down.  She proceeded back to the pile and picked up another piece.  By the time they were done, they had one neatly stacked cord of firewood and one small pile ordered by Bailey.  It was her pile.   Tank just laughed and left Bailey's wood pile where it was.

 

Then there were Tank's children.  Tank only thought they belonged to him and Celeste, but they were really Bailey's play buddies.  She loved those kids and would do anything for them, including giving them rides on her back, though Bailey's attention span wasn't very long.  Still there wasn't enough room in Bailey's dog house for her play buddies, so she let Tank take them inside at night, besides... they needed a bath!

 

So when Bailey took Lee Crane's scent she took possession of not only the scent but the human as well.  It was deep inside of her to find the human, though she never knew the calibre of person she might find.  Sometimes it was a child, and the fearful parent never had to worry about Bailey suddenly becoming an attack dog upon finding her target scent.  Upon completion of her journey, Bailey wouldn't bay loudly like a dog trained to find game animals.  Instead, she would seek to bestow large long, drooly and most certainly messy licks upon the human's face.  It was her reward, and she instinctively believed her “right.”  But one time when they lived in a different city, Bailey had been called upon to trail a bad man, and upon efficiently leading the police to his hiding spot, Tank had to physically hold her back to protect the loving dog whose first instinct was to greet her target scent.  She was a good dog, and it wouldn't take long for her to discern a nice human from a mean one, but it was a slight disappointment to not get to lap up to his face after her victory, but her “Master” Tank would always reward her and his treats along with his satisfied “well done girl” made up for the missed victory lick.

 

Bailey moved forward and then stopped, looking across the road at a flowing creek that intersected the road.  The culvert pipe had long since been washed downstream but if the abductors traveled this way they would have had to have crossed here.  The problem was on the other side of the swollen creek, a fork in the road. 

 

Harry and Chip stopped again as Harry got out rubbing the back of his neck.  They had been at this for hours, what if they were following the whims of an overgrown hound with no sense of direction at all?  It was a fear he hadn't voiced yet, mostly because they had nothing else to go on and he trusted Chief Thompson.

 

Tank wasn't worried about the situation, as Bloodhounds were known to pick back up a trail even after a person tried to throw them off track by trudging up or downstream, often believing that the water washed their scents away, indeed the scents traveled on top of the water.  Again, Bailey relied on her training to not just track a footprint, but to search the air around her for that one scent that meant victory in her personal pursuit.

 

Tank followed her across the water and refreshed her scent with Lee's shirt.  She nosed around for a bit and then began to pull Tank's hold on her harness with intensity, choosing with passion which fork in the road to follow.

 

* * * * *

 

Lee was pulled from his cot yet again and, too weak to affect any kind of possible escape.  Victor stood in the middle of the run down building with his hand on a steel box, it was rectangular, and rivaled the looks of a coffin.  Lee tried to fight, but he was soon placed inside the steel box breathing heavily for his exertion.

 

“You left my brother to die in a sinking submarine, Crane,” Victor's sanity was no longer in question, he was certifiably crazy.  “This will be your final resting place Crane, just like the watery steel grave you had in mind for Tomas!”

 

A steel lid was placed over Lee as he breathed in, hope slipping away, then it happened.  It wasn't unexpected, but it still startled him as a hose was fitted into a small hole on the lid and a small but steady stream of water began to fill the steel box.

 

* * * * *

 

Bailey's strong shoulders began to pull Tank along with fervor as Tank turned around to address the SUV following ten feet behind him.

 

“She's on to something!”  He reported almost excitedly with way more emotion than Chip had ever seen the huge Chief display in his normal demeanor.

 

Bailey drove herself because the faint scent of this human was getting stronger.  It was no longer an old contaminated trail she was following but the scent of the human was getting stronger, filling her olfactory glands with pure joy.  She was determined to greet this human, to express her delight at how much fun the game of finding him was and to lay on her victory lick.  She somehow knew it was a job when Tank put on her harness, but boy did she love her work!

 

Detective Lansbury raised the radio mic to his face and called for the helicopter.  If they had come to the end of the “trail” they may need more than the two officers he had with him, and very probably the paramedics would be necessary as well.

 

Harry and Chip exchanged glances as the dog's insistent steps were more purposeful than before, they each steeled themselves for what they might find and hoped they were in time.

 

* * * * *

 

Victor Ruiz stuck around to supervise Crane's demise.  They had rigged a pump to draw water from a well and were slowly trickling in the cold well water into Crane's simulated sinking sub.  Victor wiped the sweat from his mouth with a bandana he had stuffed in his back pocket.  Killing Crane wouldn't bring Tomas back, nor would it restore him into Dr. Gamma's good graces.  In fact, if he really wanted to get back in good with Gamma he would have kidnapped Lee and taken him to Gamma's fortress island.  But he had played it Gamma's way before and lost not only Crane but the Renegade as well.  No, this revenge belonged to him and him alone.  Crane was a coward, and he was going to enjoy hearing the fevered, desperate attempts of escape from the steel box as the water slowly took his life.

 

* * * * *

 

Lee shuddered as the water filled his steel coffin, it was cold and dark as he heard the lock put in place with the loud click when it latched.  This was it... he resolved himself to not panic, he tried to feel for a way out of his wet prison but instead came to the conclusion that he was going to die.  His shudders were joined by his teeth chattering as the pain of his injuries sounded their displeasure of the cold water trickling in.  The water was rising and now at his chest as he struggled to keep his chin and mouth above the water.  He would fight until there was no other choice, but he wouldn't satisfy Ruiz' sick mind.  He knew Ruiz expected him to beg, kick and hit the sides of his box pleading for his release, and that wasn't something he was going to give Victor.

 

He decided that his last moments weren't going to be spent on Victor Ruiz and willed himself to review his life.  His command of Seaview, the best Boat and the best Crew a Captain could hope for.  His friends, he had lots of them, but Harry, Chip and Jamie were especially strong friendships.  Harry... his boss, his friend, his... mentor, maybe even his father figure.  He smiled thinking of Harry, the brightest, smartest, most stubborn man he had ever met.  They made a good team, Harry pushing the scientific envelope and Lee keeping them safe to do it.

 

Then he turned his thoughts to Chip, more than a subordinate, an able officer or the best XO around.  He was his best friend, putting up with him four years at Annapolis.  Chip was the brother he never had, being an only child.  He could tell Chip anything...

 

And then there was Jamie, his medical nemesis.  But Jamie had pulled him out of more injuries back to health than a doctor should have to for one patient.  Theirs was a strange relationship, being one of friendly antagonism but each one reveled in the game and banter every unfortunate time Lee ended up in Sickbay.

 

His last thought was for his mother... he hoped she would be okay after he was gone.  The water rose and Lee fought back the panic as only an inch of air space remained.

 

* * * * *

 

Bailey tugged her Handler along as Tank started trotting to keep up with the determined dog that was clearly in control of the trailing.  Her excitement grew as the scent of the human grew and sharpened until they saw some old buildings up in the clearing.

 

Tank took the time to motion to the cars behind them as the cars stopped their forward motion and everyone piled out.  They didn't want to give the abductors a chance to escape so they all began to trot along behind Bailey.

 

* * * * *

 

Ruiz was watching the steel box and smiled as water began to seep out the top where the lid had been closed and locked shut with a pad lock.  A few more minutes and Crane would be dead, his victory was interrupted however, as one of his thugs came running in.

 

“Captain Ruiz!  The cops are here!”

 

Victor hesitated only a moment and then turned to leave dropping his bandana as he ran toward the back door.

 

“Run men, take to the forest!”  He yelled and then turned to take one last look at the steel box, his revenge secure no matter what.

 

* * * * *

 

Tank tried to hold Bailey back as they entered the building where he was sure they would find the Captain, or at the very least some physical evidence that had stirred his dog so passionately.

 

“No girl.”  Tank tried to keep Bailey from entering, he needed to protect his dog as Bloodhounds are a gentle, loving breed and wouldn't automatically perceive the dangers the bad guys being caught could bring.  But for all his effort to keep Bailey from entering the building, she wouldn't be denied.  Tank acquiesced, not really knowing why but followed her in, even before the police officers who would have liked to have been the first to enter the building.  Bailey looked once toward a room with an open door and a cot on the wall but denied herself the satisfaction of the rich scent in the room and moved directly to a steel box in the middle of the floor.

 

“Admiral!”  Tank called dropping Bailey's harness and running for the box as Bailey sniffed all around it whining profusely.

 

Harry pushed himself in taking the sight of the water seeping out the lid and yelled, “Lee!”

 

Chip ran ahead and found the lock then looked around for a wedge to break in. 

 

“Lee!  Hold on Lee, we're here!”  Harry had no proof that Lee was in the box until he heard a thump from the inside of the box.

 

Frantically, Harry turned to help Chip as he wedged a piece of steel bar into a small space between the box and the lid.  The pad lock was too big, there was no hope of busting it open; the best they could hope for was to wedge the lid open enough to dump enough water out.  Harry and Chip pulled on the wedge with all their might as the two police officers took to the back door in pursuit of the abductors.  The thudding in the box began to grow lighter until the lid gave way at a weak point in the welding and a space was produced.  It wasn't enough to open the box's cover but with the lid ajar Harry, Chip and Detective Lansbury moved to tilt the box to dump the water out and allow Lee to breath.  They struggled but the box was too heavy.  They couldn't move the steel box loaded with Lee and all the water until Tank moved to the center and poured his entire 265 pounds into the effort.  The box tilted and water poured from the space between the lid and box.

 

“I have bolt cutters in the police car,” Lansbury announced and left running to retrieve them as Harry knelt down wondering if Lee had survived the drowning attempt.

 

“Lee?  It's me, Nelson.  We're going to get you out of there, can you hear me, Lee?”

 

It was silent.

 

“Lee, if you can hear me, give me sign.”

 

Still silence as Harry dipped his head forward.  Were they too late?  They were too close to lose Lee now, he was tapping his existence just a few moments earlier and Lee was an expert swimmer and diver, able to hold his breath for five minutes.

 

Harry's resolve returned as he continued to talk to Lee, unsure if he could hear him.

 

“Lee, we'll have you out of there soon.  Keep holding on, Lad.”

 

A moment passed and then a small thud was heard as Harry and Chip both sighed greatly in relief.  Detective Lansbury burst back in with the bolt cutter and quickly the pad lock was cut.

 

* * * * *

 

Bailey had found her human, yet something wasn't right.  She should have been excited waiting to greet her target scent but she was fascinated by another scent.  Her job was done so she was free to investigate the bandanna on the floor.  Dogs know more than people think and so Tank didn't deter her as she investigated.  She sniffed and whined as Tank moved to his Bloodhound's side.

 

“What have you got there Bailey?” He asked inquisitively. 

 

Bailey whined and Tank knew she was on a trail.  He smiled, picked up her harness and said, “Go get him, girl.”

 

Bailey immediately headed for the back door in a near run that Tank didn't try to slow down. 

 

* * * * *

 

Victor Ruiz was running through the oak tree forest, typical for the foothill region he was in.  He and his men had all taken three different routes in the forest and it was soon evident that they had runners in pursuit.  Victor risked a look back and spotted police officers running after his men.  He smiled, and began making quieter tracks through the forest.  His men would slow down the pursuit, and he would sneak away unscathed.  Victor Ruiz was pleased with himself.  He had planned this for months, having arrived in Santa Barbara over a month ago and spending the time to case the Institute, Crane and his habits as he moved about the city.  He had totally surprised Crane and taken him with little problem, every stage of his revenge had been carried out and now he was about to walk away free.  He slowed down from his run, feeling it was too noisy with the ample brown dead oak leaves crushing under his feet, and proceeded along trying to crackle less in his exit. 

 

As he slowed he became aware of other sounds behind him, he turned in unbelief to see a huge Bloodhound on his trail in a near dead run, the Handler barely keeping up with his dog.  Ruiz panicked and picked up his speed trying to outrun them, everything was falling apart around him.

 

* * * * *

 

Tank was having a hard time keeping up with Bailey but their passionate pursuit was rewarded as Tank spotted a man running away.  His bald head was glistening from the sweat and visible even from where Tank was.  The man looked back, recognizing he was being followed and turned on the steam.  There was no way Tank was going to let the guy run out on this so he let go of the harness and called to Bailey.

 

“Go get him, girl!”

 

Bailey heard her command and took off in a full run gaining momentum with her powerful hips taking each stride with determination.  She was on a new trail, and this one was fresh!  It was exhilarating, as Bailey poured on the steam closing the distance until she uncharacteristically bayed, a long loud howl, the clear bay of a hound dog and distinctive to the Bloodhound line.  Her target scented human looked over his shoulder as a look of fear crossed his face.  Bailey was large, not as large as the male of the breed but still a formidable looking creature, especially with her loud bays now permeating throughout the oak trees.

 

Ruiz looked back and then stumbled over some fallen dead branches in his path and fell into a sprawling heap onto the forest floor.  He tried to get up but the huge attack bloodhound was upon him.  Visions of medieval man-hunts passed before his eyes as he turned on his back to fight off the giant jaws of the killer dog.  His hands were flailing as the dog jumped on top of him pinning him to the ground, she weighed at least fifty pounds, but Ruiz' fear took hold and he froze looking straight up at the panting, drooling snout of a Bloodhound.  He started to scream but couldn't find his voice as the monster dog leaned down and laid a long wet lick on his face.

 

He realized too late the dog was harmless as the handler was now upon him.

 

“Move a muscle, Scumbag and you're dead,” was heard as Ruiz turned his head to see the large Security Chief with his sidearm drawn.

 

Bailey took one last lick and moved off Ruiz, satisfied that she had done her job and moved to sit practically on Tank's foot as he reached for his radio to report the capture of at least one abductor.

 

“If he moves, Bailey, rip his throat out,” Tank said darkly as fear regripped Ruiz and Tank looked down at the gentle dog giving her a wink.

 

* * * * *

 

Detective Lansbury cut open the padlock and just as quickly Harry and Chip had the lid off.  They were unprepared for Lee's condition, his beating and gunshot wound barely taking a backseat to the blue in his face and fingernails as he struggled to breathe deeply.  They pulled him out as Harry took Lee into his arms trying to impart heat to his stricken Captain.

 

“I'll get some blankets,” Chip yelled over his shoulder as Detective Lansbury followed him out, making sure that the paramedics were on their way.

 

* * * * *

 

The police officer slapped the back of the ambulance two times as Lee Crane was sent off to the hospital.  Harry had climbed in with Lee as Chip stayed at the scene to return with Tank and Bailey.  Lee looked bad, but he was lucid and had responded to their questions, still the sooner they left for the hospital the better.

 

Tank was giving a report to Detective Lansbury as Bailey sat by his leg looking around wistfully.  She didn't look like a trailer at present, at present she looked like an overgrown puppy as her tongue hung out the side of her mouth and a long line of drool dripped down her snout.

 

“Come on, girl.  We're going home,” Tank said when he was through as he led the happy dog to the SUV.  Tank stood at the door and took the harness off Bailey, who registered immediately that work time was done and hopped happily into the open door of the SUV. 

 

Chip was sitting in the front seat and had to laugh at the dog who apparently was used to riding in the front seat with Tank.  He would have offered for Bailey to sit on his lap, but something rightly told him that Bailey wasn't one to share, and that if she sat in the front seat she'd have it all to herself.  Chip turned around and stroked the loving dog on the snout.

 

“Good girl,” he said with a smile as Tank got in the driver's side and u-turned the vehicle to follow the ambulance out.

 

* * * * *

 

Inside the Nelson Institute Med Bay, Jamie worked on his patient.  Seaview and her crew were ordered to stand down until tomorrow so there were several ratings lining the hallways waiting on word.  Tank had dropped Chip off and had promised to return after taking Bailey home.  She had done a hard day's work and deserved to rest in her own backyard.  She hadn't been given the opportunity to get her victory lick on Captain Crane, but Tank had rewarded her with double liver treats and she was at present a contented pup. 

 

He dropped her off at the house, promising to explain the day's events to Celeste when he returned.  His wife, a petite woman who wore her hair long and chemically relaxed, was used to Tank's unusual hours.  She just kissed him, teasing him about his need for a long shower and intimating her desire to help as he shook his head and left.  Her dark eyes accented her chocolate brown skin, the combination always producing a “wow” affect when he introduced his wife, and he smiled at her promised “help”.

 

Meanwhile, Bailey was lounging in the backyard.  She was the family pet on loan to the authorities when needed, but she had her run of the backyard.  She was sprawled out lazily along the green turf grass in Tank's well-manicured yard, her head positioned perfectly to reach the automatic sprinkler she was currently chewing on, another one of her “toys” and groaned contently.  Once she had successfully chewed off the sprinkler head she would move to another, but this one would keep her busy for awhile...

 

* * * * *

 

“How is he, Jamie?”  Harry asked looking over Jamieson's body language for clues to Lee's condition.

 

Jamie sighed, but Harry could tell it was going to be alright.

 

“He's had a rough go at it Admiral.  Contusions, bruises, broken ribs, bruised kidneys... you name it,” he said with some exasperation.  “Throw on top of that a nasty bullet wound and irritated lungs from a near drowning and anyone else would be out for the count right now.”

 

Harry was starting to recognize Jamie's report of Lee's injuries as something else and responded with a small smile.

 

“But no-o-o-o-,” Jamie finished practically singing his last word, dripping in sarcasm.  “He's still awake, asking to see you and wanting to know when he can go home!”

 

Everyone in the waiting room erupted in soft laughter as Jamie's growl softened and he joined them.

 

He sighed again, “It was close Admiral.  I don't know how he does it, but he manages to find strength from somewhere.  He'll be here for the next week at least, but I expect a full recovery, though he'll be on crutches for awhile.  I'd say we all better send up a thankful prayer tonight, because it could just have easily been a visit to the morgue.”

 

Jamie's solemn words were met by nods from the crew as each man realized how difficult that day would have been.  Seaview was Seaview because of the Skipper, they just couldn't imagine it any other way.

 

“Well, can I see him?”

 

“Sure, you first and then Chip.  The rest of you will have to wait until the Skipper's stronger.”  The Ratings agreed and started to meander out content to hear that Captain Crane was going to make it.  From his place among the Ratings, Chief Devon “Tank” Thompson blew out a satisfied breath and smiled, then he slipped out quietly.

 

* * * * *

 

“Lee?”

 

Lee's eyes opened, he was tired and he was having to fight the sedation to stay awake but he wanted to talk Harry first.

 

“Hi Admiral,” he said weakly, and hating the sound of his voice sounding so feeble.  He figured his face pretty much matched his voice so he wasn't giving anything away that Harry couldn't see for himself just now.

 

“Before you ask, Victor Ruiz and his two men are in police custody.”

 

Lee smiled weakly and nodded.  “How in the world did you find me?”

 

“Now that's an interesting story that I think we'll save for when you're stronger and can stay awake,” Harry said with a grin.

 

Lee's bruises were dark and angry and he was fully swathed in bandages around his middle.  His leg was slightly elevated and he was still coughing, having aspirated water.

 

“For now, Lee,” Harry continued, “Your job is to rest.  I'll tell you all about it tomorrow.”

 

“Aye Sir,” Lee said with a small smile that faded quickly.  He held onto his consciousness as Chip came in, the two talking in low voices and an easy banter until Lee finally gave up and let the sedation take him to the healing rest he needed.

 

* * * * *

 

Lee hobbled about having dispensed of his crutches and cautiously positioned himself behind a tree.  He could hear the snorting sniffs of his pursuer and knew he was about to be found out as Bailey located her quarry with ease.  Lee laughed and knelt down to pat her head as Bailey finally got in her victory lick lapping; a long, wet and drool filled kiss on Lee's face as he responded by bringing her snout close and whispering with sincerity into her long floppy ears.

 

“Thanks girl, for everything.”

 

Tank looked on with pride in his eyes at the scene before him as Celeste turned the tri-tip cooking on the grill on the patio.  Lee and Bailey just made it off the lawn when the automatic sprinklers came on and one sprinkler head was propelled ten feet into the air as a mini geyser was formed from the pressure of the uncapped sprinkler. 

 

Tank took one look at the newly formed geyser and yelled, “Bailey!!!!!!”  To which the big puppy just responded with a drooling tilt of her head wondering what all the fuss was all about.

 

 

The End

 

Bailey's Victory

 

 

 

* See my story Where the Gentle Beasts Lead

 

** Bloodhound Research -

http://www.bloodhound-puppies.net/bloodhound-puppies/the-bloodhound-man-trailing-dog

 

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Bloodhound

 

http://www.jimmyryce.org/Bloodhounds.html  Check out the Q&A at this site to learn quickly the great ability of this breed.

 

Author's Note:  The hilarious antics of Bailey are based upon the real life antics of our family pet some ten years ago, a female full bred bloodhound, including her decapitation of sprinkler heads and the log stacking scene.  And a trained bloodhound really can do all the things I described in the story above.  We started training ours early to play hide and seek with our son.  She would never put her nose to the floor but would trot directly to his hiding place, even behind a closet door.  We had to find a new home for her when we moved out of state, and she very happily headed to her new home in the country and began training as a man-trailer.  They are a fun and loving breed, with little use for obedience training but they make up for it in sheer personality alone.  Even their drools, which I assure you I didn't overplay, are cute!  : )

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Copyright 2014, All Rights Reserved

Voyage to the Bottom of the Sea and her main characters belong to Irwin Allen