CHAPTER TWENTY
December 19, 2012 AD – 7:32 PM,
Aboard the Moondance
22:32 GMT
• • • • •
“And, of course, this is the main bridge and research cabin.”
Marshall and Dwayne stepped out of the stairway to the galley and into the large room. The main monitor screen still had the navigation system displayed. The cabin was sealed shut, and the sound cancellation system was engaged, but Dwayne could see the ocean through the large side window as it rushed by at 125 knots. The bottom of the boat flew over fifteen feet out of the water, which meant the cabin was elevated enough above the surface of the ocean that the speed seemed somewhat slower. The effect was exactly like flying a small plane low over the water. The perceived speed from on board the aircraft is lessened the higher you get off the ground. It was still enough of a marvel for Dwayne to stop and stare.
“I just can’t get over how fast she can go.”
Marshall couldn’t tell if it was envy or awe that he heard in Dwayne’s voice. He knew his boat deserved both.
“I always had a need for speed. Hydrofoil technology has come a long way in the last few years.” Marshall headed over to the front of the main screen. Dwayne started to follow him, but Marshall stopped him with an open palm. “Hang on. We’ve got one more stop on the grand tour.”
Then he entered a code on the key-panel and a hissing sound started coming from the ceiling. Above Marshall’s head, a long section of the ceiling began to swing slowly down, like a large attic door. As it dropped, an inclined step ladder with handrails extended down from inside the opening and snapped in place. A moment after the gangway ladder was fully extended, a second hiss was heard from within the hole in the ceiling. Dwayne leaned around the stairs and looked up. He saw a small hatchway leading up at an angle toward the bow of the boat, and he could see into the flying bridge beyond that. Marshall walked around to the gangway ladder and waved toward Dwayne as he started climbing.
“Come on. The view is much better from up here.”
Dwayne followed right behind him. At the top of the ladder stairs, a short extendable hallway opened up into the aft of a room. When he entered into the flying bridge, he couldn’t believe his eyes. The room was dark, and the windows were tinted, but as Dwayne stepped in, he could see that the windows went all the way around. From here, you had a complete 360 degree panorama of the area. As Dwayne watched, the windows suddenly began to lighten. He glanced over at Marshall, who was sitting in one of the several plush captain’s chairs mounted in the floor. Marshall saw his confused expression.
“Electronic tinting. Here, grab a seat.”
Marshall pointed to the chair, then reached under the panel in front of him and opened a small cabinet. When he sat back up, he had a bottle of Scotch and two tumblers. He set the group on the table tray that was built into the panel, then smiled at Dwayne.
“Sea tradition dictates that, as a fellow Captain, I offer you a drink. Captain to Captain.”
“I don’t think I’ve heard of that tradition… but I like it.” Dwayne smiled as he sat into the deep cushions on the chair next to the Scotch.
Marshall poured the two tumblers and handed one to Dwayne. Then he held his glass out between them. “Captain to Captain.”
Dwayne smiled back and nodded, then took a nice long sip of the twenty-year-old whiskey. The buttery liquid burned as it went down. But just a few seconds after it got in his stomach, he could begin to feel its calming influence, even after the big meal he had about a half an hour ago. Once Marshall and Luke had dropped them off at the guest quarters, he and Janine had fallen asleep almost immediately. A couple of hours later, Luke knocked on the door to check on them and let them know that Marshall had fixed dinner. At first, Dwayne wasn’t sure what to expect. Especially after Luke’s shark-poop-shake. But it was delicious. After dinner, Janine and Luke went back to the hyperbaric chamber to check on the kids and give them something to eat. Marshall then offered to take Dwayne on the grand tour he’d promised him earlier.
Dwayne took another sip of the pale brown firewater. As he sat back into the padded and plush captain’s chair, he looked out over the bow of the boat. He could see the sun as it dipped low toward the horizon off the port bow. Marshall was right. From up here, the view was spectacular. And the Scotch was pretty damn good, too. Then he heard Marshall rummaging around behind him.
“You a cigar man, Dwayne?” Marshall was still digging for something as he spoke over his shoulder.
Dwayne’s ears perked up a little. “Ever since I learned to play poker in Law School… Are they good cigars?”
“Castro himself has no finer.” Marshall retrieved a solid mahogany humidor, and as he sat back down, he opened the box and extended it toward Dwayne.
Dwayne’s ears perked up a lot after he heard this. He leaned forward slightly and inhaled as he looked at the neat rows of Cuban cigars. Then he smiled and retrieved a handsome specimen. As Dwayne ran the cigar under his nose and inhaled the forbidden smell more deeply, Marshall retrieved one for himself and set the box aside. Then he took the trimmer and expertly clipped the end. Dwayne followed suit, and a few moments later, the flying bridge was filled with the thick smoke and strong smell of expensive Cuban cigars. Both men enjoyed a few minutes of nothing; just silence; and the sunset; and the Scotch; and the cigars. But mostly just silence. Both men had learned to appreciate it. Marshall finally broke the quiet when he poured himself another drink.
“No offense, but you don’t look much like a Sea-Captain.”
Dwayne finished the last of his Scotch and stuck his empty glass out to Marshall before answering. Then he sat back into the chair again and took a long puff on the cigar. “Up to a few hours ago, I would have argued that point with you… Now? I’m not so sure.” He took a sip of the Scotch. Then he closed his eyes as he let it slide down his throat. “I’m not sure about a lot of things.”
Marshall didn’t know much about Dwayne. But he knew what he was going through right now. He’d seen it lots of times. He’d gone through it more than a few times himself. The medication and treatment that Luke administered prevented everyone from going into shock right afterward. But Dwayne and his family went through a near-death and potentially life-altering experience just a few hours ago. And now, he was experiencing the next part of the ordeal, the post trauma stress. Marshall decided it was best just to keep quiet and listen.
Enough time had passed that the adrenaline was out of Dwayne’s system, but the memory was still raw and fresh in his mind. He hadn’t actually slept well during the nap before dinner. It was more like a semi-comatose state. He didn’t dream, but he didn’t fully sleep, either. Something was haunting his subconscious, and he knew what was haunting him, too. It was guilt.
“I thought I was doing the best thing for my family,” he said softly as he slightly shook his head and looked down at nothing. “I thought this trip would open their eyes and bring us closer together again… Instead, I almost got all of us killed.” Then he looked over at Marshall. “I’m not making much sense, am I?”
Marshall took a long sip from his tumbler. It had been a rough day for all of them, and the warmth spreading through his gut felt good. He relaxed slightly in the large padded chair and swiveled toward Dwayne. Then he took a close look at the man across from him. Dwayne wasn’t tall at five foot six inches, but he had the build of a linebacker, plus a few pounds. Even without knowing the truth behind his legendary culinary palette, Marshall could tell Dwayne liked food. His hair was slightly disheveled, but the thick grey strands didn’t stray far from their usual place of residence. He was probably a few years older than Marshall, but his hands showed a life of little manual labor.
“Why don’t you start with what you did before you became a Captain of a boat.”
The alcohol was beginning to work. Dwayne felt a little less apprehensive as he thought of his former life as an attorney. “Lawyer… from New Orleans.”
“You must be a really good one. That boat you had was gorgeous… and I imagine she cost a pretty penny or two.”
Dwayne took a drag from the expensive hand-rolled cigar. His mind quickly left the thought of his destroyed boat, and instead, he looked around the flying bridge. “Speaking of pretty pennies, your baby has upgrades and toys I’ve never seen anywhere… No offense, but tell me taxes didn’t pay for this.”
Marshall laughed. “No… Uncle Sam only paid for that fancy nano-skin on the outside. And that was thanks to Luke and NASA. Nope, the Moondance belongs to me and the investor group that paid for her.”
“And you say she’s a fishing boat?” Dwayne was smiling as he said this.
“Well… I use her to fish.” Marshall smiled as he took another puff on the cigar. “But mostly she’s a high-tech diving boat. Private charters… anywhere in the world for the right price. We serve a very small niche market, mostly high-end corporate clients… the kind with too much money.” Marshall watched as Dwayne absorbed this. Before Dwayne could ask about details, Marshall changed the subject. “How’d a Big Easy attorney end up out here in the middle of the Atlantic?”
“Long story short? Bad judgment and bad decisions.”
“If you’re talking about what happened earlier, it’s more likely just bad timing. You had no way of knowing that storm was gonna hit when you were out there. Nobody did.”
Dwayne nodded his head in agreement. “Yeah… I know.” Then he looked out the front window at the sun, which was about halfway down the horizon and dropping fast. “But that’s not really what I meant. We started this trip over a year ago. I’ve had lots of time to think about how I ended up here.” He sat back again and took another long sip of Scotch. He could feel the old emotions starting rise; fueled by the post-trauma stress and the alcohol. “It’s not my bad judgment and bad decisions that I’m really talking about.”
Marshall raised his eyebrows at him, as the cigar tip glowed bright red sticking out the corner of his mouth.
Dwayne saw his interest was piqued. Even though he didn’t know what Marshall’s political inclination was, he decided to forge ahead anyway.
“It was actually the President that I’m talking about… well, the last one. The one who screwed up the Katrina disaster.”
Now Marshall was interested. He had his own experiences with that particular man. And they weren’t good. “How so?” he replied nonchalantly.
“I was the lead attorney who won the class action suit against the government… I did that by showing that the President made bad judgments and bad decisions during that crisis.”
“I remember hearing about that. But I was always wondering how that worked. I know a couple of thousand people died. But… how’d you get a jury to find him responsible for that?”
Dwayne took a long puff and slowly exhaled. “I didn’t. The monetary settlement went to the victims of Katrina… all of ‘em from every state got some. But the actual lawsuit was over the Port of New Orleans… not the people.”
This caused Marshall to stop for a moment. “The Port?”
Dwayne smiled a little. Nobody thought he had a chance with the lawsuit. And then he won the massive settlement. Afterward, the legal pundits chimed in, and they promptly concluded that his strategy was a stroke of genius.
“Yeah. I knew I’d never get anywhere if I tried to push the human tragedy. So instead, I went after the incompetence. Those guys got elected the first time by convincing the American people they were the CEO ticket… They said they’d run the country better and more efficiently than the other guys. They even put a former CEO of a multi-billion dollar company on the ticket to show how serious they were about competent business-like leadership.”
“Don’t get me started on that asshole.” Marshall’s subconscious face twisted into a snarl at the thought of the former Vice President. But his real face continued to look mildly interested. Dwayne was looking out the front window and didn’t notice, anyway. He turned to Marshall before starting again.
“Then comes nine-eleven, and everything changed. After that, they promised us the Federal government would never be so ineffective and slow to respond, ever again. The next election, in 2004, they told us only they could keep us safe in an emergency.” Dwayne felt himself coming alive, again. He was at the top of his game when he won this case. He pointed at Marshall with his finger on the hand that was holding his Scotch. “The Port of New Orleans is Federal property. The levees, the docks, the river… all of it is under direct Federal jurisdiction. Neither the city nor the state has any authority over it.”
Just then, a loud bark came from down below. Marshall and Dwayne both looked at each other for a second, then chuckled a little out loud. Marshall got up and walked over to the staircase. He was just about to go down and get the puppy when Lola bounded up past his legs and hopped into the nearest captain’s chair. Marshall walked by and scratched her head as he settled back into his seat. Lola playfully bit and licked his hand as she leaned back against the plush fabric on the back of the chair. Dwayne marveled out loud.
“Looks like you’ve made a friend for life.”
“I’m a dog person… for sure.” Then he looked back to Dwayne. “You were saying about the Port?”
Dwayne took a sip of Scotch before he started, again. “Over twenty-five percent of the oil and goods that enter and leave the United States goes through the New Orleans Port. When the levees broke, the Port shut down, and all traffic on the Mississippi river stopped. The Port stayed closed for almost three weeks. The hit on our economy was over two-point-one percent of the Gross-National-Product for the year. That was as big a hit financially as the attacks on September eleventh.”
“But how did the President have anything to do with that?” Marshall took another long drag on the Cuban. “And what could’ve been done? How do you stop the levees from breaking?” He leaned over and scratched Lola behind the ears.
After his own puff on the Cuban, Dwayne answered him. “The first question was the hundred billion dollar question… And I found the answer on the President’s own website.”
“What?” Marshall laughed as he spit out the question. Lola snapped her ears to attention.
Dwayne laughed, too. He felt much better now. “You know what they say, ‘never speak when you can nod. Never nod when you can wink. And never put anything in email.’ Well they should’ve added ‘Never put your signature on anything you don’t want found.’ Because I found a FEMA Authorization letter on Mr. Incompetent’s White House website dated just a few days before the storm hit… Now, this document gave Presidential authorization to all Federal departments to begin preparations and start pre-supplying the areas that were likely to be damaged and in need of help after the storm. And it listed by specific county, and parish in the case of Louisiana, every area to be covered by the Federal efforts both before and after the storm. Which, on the surface, seems fine and dandy. But for some reason that no one has ever been able to come up with, New Orleans and all of the surrounding parishes… and I mean every single one of ‘em… were NOT on that list.”
Now, Marshall was actually a little astounded. “Really?”
“And it was signed by you know who.” Dwayne added after a sip of Scotch.
“Couldn’t it have just been a clerical error or something?” Marshall puffed his cigar bright red.
“If it was, it was incredibly specific. We couldn’t find any pattern in the omitted parishes other than they were the parishes that surrounded New Orleans. But even if it was an error, that just strengthened my argument. And that was, they were incompetent. For all the loss of life that occurred during and after that storm, from a defensive and national security perspective, the port was more important… way more important. And they completely left it out of the preparation order. Once the levees broke, the port flooded into the Mississippi, and every bit of traffic on the river was halted. Nothing could come in, and nothing could get out. Boats were backed up all the way to Chi
cago.”
Dwayne paused to take a drag on his cigar. “I worked on the river the summer after graduating high school. We pushed barges up and down the Mississippi. I’ve seen a towboat barge Captain stick his load into the levee to stop a breach… in the middle of a storm at night… And he did it so carefully, he barely scratched the paint on the hull of the barge. And contrary to what anybody in his administration was willing to admit, the website of the Times Picayune reported on Monday evening about 7:30 PM New Orleans time, that the streets were filling from a breach in the levees. According to the President, and his people, no one knew the levees had failed until Tuesday when the sun came up, and the streets were filled with water. The Coast Guard and the Army Corps of Engineers aren’t afraid of working in hurricane weather… and they could’ve been there in under an hour from the military bases where they were standing by. But they can only be called out by one man.”
Dwayne paused again, this time for a bigger sip of Scotch. The liquid slid easily down his throat.
“Believe me… There were plenty of things that could’ve been done to keep the levees from failing. But you probably saw the video clip of the President saying that no one expected it to happen.”
He took a sip and a puff this time. Then he smiled proudly at Marshall. “I used that video clip in my closing. Between the documented screw-up before the storm, followed by their abject failure to keep open what could only have been classified as one of the country’s most valuable and important strategic assets… the second largest port in the nation… I had little trouble proving massive malfeasance and incompetence. And that incompetence cost the entire country, every one of us, well over three-hundred billion dollars in an economic hit. Which works out to about a thousand dollars for every man, woman, and child in the entire country because we couldn’t keep the levees up… during a storm that we knew was coming. Here’s a question I had for him. What if it had been terrorists that destroyed the levee around New Orleans? Had he and his administration not even considered how to stop a breach in the levee. He started a Department of Homeland Security… didn’t anyone over there think of this?”
“What did he say to that?”
“Not much… But it was one of the few times that smug look left his face.”
Marshall chuckled as he puffed on his cigar. Dwayne pointed at him with his.
“And that third of a trillion dollars, is in addition to the actual cost of the disaster. In fact, the hit to the GNP was well over three times greater than the total cost of Katrina. After I had a chance to show a jury the cavalier and dismissive attitude of our President was NOT backed up by anyone with any amount of competence… contrary to his cowboy image… then his malfeasance and the loss-of-life took on real meaning.”
“And a price tag. As I recall, that settlement was nine digits or so. Sounds like a nice retirement package for you. Is that what this is, early retirement?” Marshall looked directly in Dwayne’s eyes. Dwayne looked at him for a moment, but then his eyes focused off in the distance.
“Well… that’s where the boat came from. But the real reason I’m out here isn’t money. I had to sit across from the President when we took his deposition. He was out of office by then, but his attitude hadn’t changed, even after everything that happened at the time. Like I said, he had this smug look on his face. And it was then I realized just how horrible and immoral this man was. And I voted for him, twice. By the time the trial was finished, I’d taken a new look at everything this man and his presidency had done to America. And I didn’t like what I saw. The money from the Katrina settlement came in right after the Deepwater Horizon spill in the Gulf. Louisiana was just starting to get back on its feet when the oil spill devastated the Gulf and killed off the fisheries. At that point, it was more than I could take. I knew I didn’t have another big fight in me. All I wanted to do was get my family away from all of it.”
Dwayne started to come back to the present, and he suddenly remembered the events of earlier. His mood dropped slightly, and he looked out the front window, again. The sun was gone, and only a shrinking orange semi-circle still glowed over the darkening sea horizon.
Marshall looked out at the last of the sunset, too. He took a long puff from the warm rolled tobacco and then slowly blew two smoke rings. He shot a puff in the middle of the pair of hazy donuts before nodding his head slightly.
“Yeah… I’ve seen that smug expression in person… twice.”
Now it was Dwayne who was interested. “Really? Do tell.”
“The first time, he lied to my face.” Marshall turned to look at Dwayne and gave him a crooked mischievous smile. Then he a took sip of Scotch and Dwayne followed suit.
“And the second time?” asked Dwayne when the twenty year old single-malt cleared his throat.
Marshall reached out and grabbed the bottle of Scotch. He leaned forward and poured another shot into Dwayne’s tumbler before refilling his own. Then he set the bottle down and held up his glass for a toast. Dwayne followed, and they clanked the crystal together then took a cowboy-sized sip of the liquor. Then they both relaxed back into their chairs.
“The second time, he gave me a medal and a promotion.”
“And what did you do?” Dwayne slowly asked.
“I took the medal… told him, ‘I quit’… and then I walked out of his oval office.”