He pulled out the clothes he’d taken from the laundry facility. They were a guard’s uniform. He quickly changed into them. When she saw the wound on his leg Alicia cried out, “Oh my God, Sean, you’re hurt.”
“Forget it. I’ll be in a lot worse shape if we don’t get out of here. Now if anyone stops you, you just tell them you’re scared, and you’re leaving. I’ll be shadowing you.”
“You’re wearing that uniform. Why can’t you just pretend you’re my escort?”
“The guards will recognize me if they get a look at my face. But from a distance they and the CIA guys will just see a uniform. I’ll join you in the front and we can get to the cops.”
She looked panicked. “Sean, what if they won’t let me leave? They might think I know something.”
“Alicia, just act frightened.”
She managed a weak smile. “That won’t be hard because I’m terrified.” Tears slid down her cheeks. “Do you think these men are the ones who took Viggie?”
He didn’t answer right away. “Yes, they’re the ones.”
He looked around the room and handed her a heavy paperweight lying on her nightstand. “It’s not much of a weapon, but it’s the best I can do right now.”
There were more noises from outside. He said, “Alicia, just take the main road past Hut Number Three and the pool and then out to the front courtyard.” He gripped her shoulders. “You can do this. You can!”
She finally nodded, drew a deep, calming breath and followed him downstairs.
A minute later everything was going fine. Two guards passed by, but didn’t stop her. She had just reached the pool when disaster struck. A team of armored men came rushing toward her. The lead man had his hand up for her to stop.
“Shit!” Sean muttered from his hiding place. He looked around for anything he could use to get them out of this jam. And then he saw it. He reached in his bag and pulled out the grenade he’d taken from the guard at Camp Peary, slipped out the pin and tossed it over the fence surrounding Hut Number Two. It clanged against the metal silo and dropped to the ground. Sean had already raced away and climbed into the low branches of a tree.
Five seconds later, the explosion ripped a large hole in the base of the silo and tons of water came pouring out. It swept in all directions like a river flooding its banks. Sean heard screams and looked out from his perch in time to see Alicia and the men in armor get hit with the rushing water, knocking them off their feet.
Alicia was carried alongside the deck and into some chairs at the other end of the pool. The three armored men were knocked unconscious when they collided with the stone fireplace.
As soon as the silo emptied out Sean sloughed through the knee-high but rapidly receding water toward Alicia. “Sorry about the tsunami,” he called out. “It was the only thing I could think of.” As he drew closer he realized something was wrong.
Alicia was clutching at her prosthetic, writhing in pain.
He ran forward and knelt down next to her. “Alicia, what is it?”
She moaned, “Something happened when the water hit me. It feels like a piece of steel is wedged in the top of my thigh. I can’t walk.”
“Oh damn!” Sean examined the leg. The next thing, he was tumbling headfirst into the pool water. His skull felt like it had been cracked. He settled down on the bottom of the shallow end and then propelled himself back to the surface. As soon as he did something settled around his neck and was pulled tight. He instinctively grabbed for whatever it was, but it was imbedded so tightly in his neck already that his fingers couldn’t reach it. He looked behind him.
Alicia had a garrote around his neck. She was strangling him.
He couldn’t breathe; his eyes were bulging out of his head. He tried to throw her off, but she wrapped her good leg around his middle and pulled on the cord with all her might. In a panic, he swung his fists behind him, trying to hit her, but missed. He aimed a punch at the leg wrapped around him, but she kicked him in the back with her other leg knocking the wind out of him. He toppled forward into the water, carrying her on his back. Yet unlike him Alicia was able to draw a deep breath. His brain was about to burst and the damn cord kept tightening. He had to take a breath. He felt himself failing. His body was shutting down.
Help me, Michelle. Help me, I’m dying. But Michelle wasn’t here.
And then like a miracle the pressure was gone from around his neck. And then so was the weight of Alicia. In a second he erupted out of the pool, taking huge breaths and retching in the water.
“Come on!”
His bursting brain could barely understand the words. Yes, it was Michelle; she’d gotten here in time to rescue him. She was safe. Safe!
“Now!” The hand grabbed him roughly.
He looked up into the face. Ian Whitfield stared back at him. Lying unconscious on the concrete pool surround was Alicia.
“We’ve got to get out of here,” the head of Camp Peary urged as he hauled up Sean.
“What the hell are you doing here?” Sean managed to say, coughing up water and rubbing at his torn-up neck.
“No time to talk. Just move. This place is crawling with people.”
“Yeah, your people, you son of a bitch.”
“Not tonight they’re not. They’re two squads of paramilitary from the camp and they don’t report to me. Come on!”
Whitfield fast-limped toward the gap between Hut Number Three and the main garage.
Sean hesitated for an instant. He looked down at Alicia. The paperweight she’d slugged him with was lying beside her. She’d tried to kill him. But why? The next second he heard cries coming from behind him. He ran off and joined Whitfield, who was crouched down next to a tree.
“You going to tell me what’s going on?” Sean demanded in a weak, scratchy voice.
“Not now,” Whitfield snapped. He pulled a pistol from his belt and handed it to Sean while he picked up an MP5 he’d obviously hidden behind the bush earlier. “If you have to use it, make it a head shot. The body armor they’re wearing will stop any pistol ammo.”
“Where are we trying to get to?”
“I’ve got a boat tied up about two hundred yards down from the dock.”
“Aren’t they patrolling the water?”
“Yes, but once we get to the boat I’ll hide you under some tarp. When they see it’s me, they won’t bother us.”
“Let’s go then.”
Whitfield put up a hand. “Not so fast. I’ve seen the grid search they have in place. As soon as they clear one area we enter it. We’ll work our way backward to the river.”
“Where’s Michelle?”
“No clue.”
“She was under the truck when it left Camp Peary.”
Whitfield looked stunned for a moment and then his features turned grim. “Shit.”
“Was it heroin they brought in on that plane? And the Arabs? Who were they?”
Whitfield brandished his weapon threateningly. “Look, King, I don’t owe you or anyone else an explanation about jackshit. I’m here to save your neck and maybe right a few wrongs. Don’t make me reconsider my decision.”
CHAPTER
85
MICHELLE DITCHED THE MERCEDES before hitting the main road leading to Babbage Town and struck out through the woods to the river with Viggie in tow. On the drive over Viggie had explained how someone had come into her bedroom and pressed something against her face. The next thing she knew she was tied up and in the back of the plane.
Before plunging into the woods Michelle saw a stream of black Suburbans hurtling down the road to Babbage Town; Merkle Hayes’s police cruiser was leading the procession. At least the cavalry was here.
Michelle and Viggie skirted the banks of the York, keeping low because there was enough activity on the water to tell Michelle that something had happened.
The pair slipped and slid on the wet embankments of the York, but finally made it within the grounds of Babbage Town. Michelle looked to the sky as a plane soare
d overhead. It was soon out of sight and she turned her attention back to the enemies she faced on the ground. She had tried Sean’s cell phone before remembering he’d left it at Babbage Town. Then she had an inspiration. She called Horatio. He answered on the first ring and she succinctly explained what had happened including the fact that she had Viggie.
To his credit he didn’t ask a single question other than, “Where can I pick you up?”
They made it to the river and a few minutes later Horatio pulled up to the shore in the Formula Bowrider.
“I anchored down in a cove near here,” he explained. “I was hoping somebody would call me. Where’s Sean?”
“I don’t kn—” Michelle had glanced over her shoulder back at the woods. “Sean!”
A wave of relief poured over her as Sean King emerged from the trees. An instant later this relief was replaced with terror as she spotted Ian Whitfield and his machine gun. She pointed her gun at his head. “Let him go!”
“It’s okay, Michelle,” Sean called out. “He’s here to help.”
“Bullshit,” she roared.
“He saved my life.”
Whitfield said, “I hear you’re a hell of a shot, Maxwell.” He stepped forward and tossed her the MP5. “You better be.”
Michelle caught the gun in one hand, her pistol still trained on the man, but her look of suspicion had faded. She said to Sean, “What is going on?”
“Babbage Town is crawling with Camp Peary guys armed to the teeth and Alicia tried to kill me.”
“I called the cops,” Michelle said. “They’re at Babbage Town.”
Sean glanced over her shoulder. “Viggie?”
The girl shyly waved back at him.
Whitfield looked at Horatio and the Formula boat. “What’s this?”
“Friend of ours,” Sean replied. “Come on.” He started to climb in the boat.
“No!” Whitfield exclaimed. “That boat won’t cut it out there. Follow me.”
They all made their way along the shore and boarded the RIB that Whitfield had tethered to a piling sticking out of the water. He had the four lie on the deck and put a tarp over them.
Sean popped his head back out and brandished his gun. “FYI, you try to screw us you get one right in the head.”
The storm had quickly settled in with force; the river was starting to pitch and heave and the rain shot out of the dark skies. Michelle took a moment to pop out from the under the tarp, grab a life jacket and put it on Viggie.
They had not gone far when another boat approached them. From under the tarp Sean heard Whitfield mutter a curse, which he did not take as an encouraging sign. His hand tightened on his gun.
The other boat was far larger than the RIB Whitfield was piloting and there were ten armed men aboard, and someone else.
Sean flinched when he heard the person’s voice: “Where have you been, Ian?” Valerie Messaline said.
“Babbage Town. Looks like someone called the cops.”
“And who might have done that?” the woman said coolly.
“Whoever broke into Camp Peary would be my guess,” Whitfield replied. “But whoever did it doesn’t matter. The cat’s out of the bag. You have to pull out. Now.”
“I don’t think so,” she said. “Why don’t you take some of the men and head down the river in your boat? Whoever breached us might have tried to get away in that direction.”
“No, I think you should take your crew and head to Babbage Town. Looks like our boys will need all the help they can get. I’m going back to Camp Peary and try to do some damage control there.”
While he was speaking Valerie had been looking at his vessel. As she glanced up there was a smile of triumph on her features. She said, “Your boat’s riding a little low in the water to just have one person on it, Ian.”
Whitfield throttled his vessel forward and smashed into the side of the other craft, knocking two of the men overboard and Valerie off her feet.
Whitfield rammed the RIB into reverse, props spinning half out of the water, and the boat surged backward. He slammed the throttle forward and the craft shot ahead. Shots fired by Valerie’s men pinged off the water and put holes in the RIB’s hull.
“Could use some help up here,” Whitfield called out.
Sean and Michelle threw off the tarp and came up while Horatio stayed low with his arms protectively around Viggie. The larger boat was racing after them. As gunshots zipped past them, Sean and Michelle ducked and then returned fire. Michelle strafed the other vessel’s bow with her MP5.
Whitfield cried out, “Conserve your ammo, I’ve only got two extra mags for the MP and one for each pistol.” He tossed Michelle another machine gun clip.
They were doing over a hundred kilometers an hour, the craft bouncing in nauseating leaps across the river as the wind picked up. The swells had quickly boiled to well over a meter in height.
Sean took careful aim and fired four rounds. Only at this distance and firing from what amounted to a trampoline, a pistol was not very effective.
“So can I ask a stupid question,” Sean called out to Whitfield.
“You can ask,” Whitfield called back.
“Can you tell us why your little woman is trying to kill you and us?”
Whitfield navigated across a particularly difficult wave and barked, “She’s not my wife. She’s my boss.”
Sean gaped at him. “Your boss! What the hell are you talking about? I thought you were the head of Camp Peary?”
“You can think what you want,” Whitfield snapped.
“And you guys are into drug running?”
Whitfield said nothing.
Sean said, “And what about the Arabs on the plane?”
Whitfield shook his head. “Not going there.”
“And did Alicia kill Len Rivest?”
Silence.
Sean snapped, “The woman almost killed me, and would have except for you. Which is the only reason I’m not making a citizen’s arrest on your ass.”
“And Champ?” Michelle asked. “Does he work for CIA?”
Whitfield said, “Let’s just worry about surviving the next ten minutes.”
“They’re gaining,” Michelle cried out as she glanced behind them.
“Their engines are twice the size of mine,” Whitfield said over his shoulder as he braced himself. “Now hold on.”
“What the hell do you think we’ve been do—?” Sean couldn’t finish because Whitfield somehow managed to cut a ninety-degree turn in the water while going full throttle. Sean would’ve gone over the side if Michelle hadn’t clamped a hand on him as he slid by her. She had her legs scissored around Viggie just in case Horatio couldn’t hold her.
“Mick!” Viggie screamed out.
“I’ve got you, Viggie, you’re not going anywhere.”
Whitfield put on a burst of speed and the RIB shot toward the opposite shore, heading directly toward the inlet into Camp Peary. They zoomed past a gauntlet of lighted beacons five hundred yards from shore that warned of extreme danger for persons trespassing there, and Sean had every reason to believe they meant it. They next roared past two boats stationed at the entrance to the inlet. The men on board leveled weapons at them, including a rocket-propelled grenade launcher, but when they saw who it was, they lowered their ordnance and just stared with bewildered looks. Whitfield actually had the gall to salute them.
Whitfield cut the RIB to the left and then the right, seemingly avoiding invisible obstacles in the water while he kept glancing at a lighted screen on his console.
“They’re still gaining,” Michelle called out. Then she paled even more. “They’re going to fire a rocket,” she screamed. The man in the bow of the chase boat was indeed putting them in the crosshairs of his weapon.
Viggie yelled in terror.
Michelle barked, “Horatio, do not let her go!”
Whitfield eyed one spot in the water and seemed to be timing something. What he was timing was a wave. “Hold the hell on,” he
roared.
Sean and Michelle dropped to the deck and held on to anything they could find, including each other.
CHAPTER