October 19, 1977

 

Peter, driving the black Ford pickup, pulled into the parking lot at the beach and parked where he could see the entrance. It was now 8:30 AM. He doubted the IRA advance person would arrive before 9:15 AM. Maybe they would use an advance person to recon and monitor the meeting site. It was also possible this wasn’t a meeting but an opportunity to grab or kill Bernadette. He had convinced Bernadette to keep a small commercial transmitter in her beach bag. If she yelled for help, he would hear her.

The tide was coming in and a storm at sea was causing bigger than normal breakers. Some East Coast surfers were trying without much success to catch a decent wave. Peter walked over to the beach restaurant and got a large takeout coffee. He was certain the coffee would be poor but drinkable, especially as a cover prop. He wandered down to look at the beach and strolled back to the truck. With his Levis and light rain jacket, he fit right in with the growing beach population.

Camera ready, he settled in the truck, sipping coffee and waiting for the main characters to arrive. It was now 9:00 AM. If the IRA was going to cover this meeting, the person or persons should be arriving soon. The lot was now half filled. There were several more pickup trucks. Fortunately, none of them blocked his line of sight lanes.

At 9:30 a motor scooter arrived with two people and parked near the bike rack. They looked out of place. The man was big but not overweight, the woman was wearing a very revealing tiny bikini and was white as snow. She was carrying a beach bag that looked heavy the way she was carrying it. The man reached over and took the bag. It was very obvious they were not at home on the beach.

Peter shot a couple of pictures with his 35mm Minolta with a distance lens. If they weren’t IRA reconning the meeting site, they should be. Perfect casting for comic relief. Thirty minutes in the Florida sun and they would be in misery in a few hours.

Bernadette arrived on schedule at 9:55. She parked Terry’s Toyota and walked down the short stairway to the beach as if she hadn’t a care in the world. She spread her beach towel near the high tide line. In another hour her spot would be covered. From the seat of the truck Peter could see Bernadette with her short robe covering her knife and not much else. The motor scooter couple picked up their towels and moved to within ten yards of Bernadette. The stage is set, Peter thought. Just waiting for the main actors.

Focused now on the entrance, Peter saw an old model VW camper with a passenger and a driver in the front seat. The driver stayed with the VW. The passenger moved directly to the beach. Peter hurried to get the photos he wanted. The VW was parked 20 yards closer to the beach entrance by the restaurant. The driver was watching the main actor as he moved toward the meeting site.

Peter thought, This has all the earmarks of a snatch. His instincts told him this meeting was not going to be nonviolent. He switched plans, got out of the truck, and moved toward the VW. The driver was still watching the meeting site. Peter approached on his blind side, reached through the open driver’s side window with his right arm, hand cupping the chin, and broke the driver’s neck in one quick move.

Climbing inside the camper, he found a Luger fitted with a sound suppressor on the seat next to the dead driver. He put the Luger under his belt and took the driver’s cap and wrap-around sunglasses and pushed the body over the bench seat on to the empty bed of the camper and covered him with a ratty blanket conveniently spread out on the floor. There was no doubt in Peter’s mind that the blanket was meant for Bernadette.

They were going to torture her before telling her what they wanted from her. Both to teach her a lesson and to find out what she had been doing in the last couple of months. If they didn’t like the answer, they would kill her. There will be some torturing here, but not of Bernadette.