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 here, 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 86
The RIB hit the wave, rode it straight up and went airborne, its twin props screaming as the water around them disappeared. Then the boat hit the surface of the inlet two feet farther d
own.
“Look out!” Valerie Messaline screamed from the chase boat. She had obviously realized what Whitfield had just done.
Michelle glanced back in time to see her dive off the boat along with a slew of others. The driver attempted to swerve around the place that Whitfield had managed to jump over, but it was too late. The boat hit the mine and exploded.
Whitfield immediately threw the RIB into a tight turn and shot back out of the inlet, passing Messaline and company as they struggled to get out of their body armor before it dragged them under.
“How the hell did you do that?” Sean asked in a stunned voice.
Whitfield tapped the screen in front of him. “It’s easy, when you know where the mines are laid. I had them change the position of one yesterday. I try to be prepared.”
The RIB roared back out on the York. None of them saw the missile launch from one of the patrol boats. It missed them but not by much. The RIB almost flipped over from the force of the explosion as the rocket hit the water ten yards away from them before Whitfield managed to get the boat back under control. The rain was coming down slantwise now, stinging their faces as Sean and Michelle slowly stood on trembling legs.
Michelle glanced around. “Viggie! Horatio!”
They looked behind them. In her life jacket Viggie was bobbing in the water already fifty yards away. To the left of her Horatio was sputtering and going under.
Michelle didn’t hesitate. She grabbed a preserver, dove off the boat and swam for Horatio. She didn’t see Sean dive off the other side of the boat and head to Viggie. Michelle reached Horatio and pushed the life preserver in his hands. “You’re okay, Horatio, just don’t panic. Can you make it to the boat while I go get Viggie?”
He nodded and Michelle headed off for Viggie. What she saw as she approached where Viggie had been struck her cold. The girl was being hauled into a boat driven by some of the men from Camp Peary. As Michelle strained to see through the rain and darkness, she saw another chilling spectacle. Two men on the boat were taking aim at Sean, who was still desperately trying to reach Viggie “No!” Michelle screamed, but she had nothing to hurt them with.
An instant later she heard the sound behind her. She swung back around and saw Whitfield’s boat coming at her fast. Horatio was already on board so Whitfield must have come back around and picked him up. As the boat drew nearer, Michelle saw Whitfield hand off the wheel to Horatio. Then the Camp Peary chief leaned over the side of the RIB and looped his leg through a bungee strap on the boat’s gunwale. He extended his hand. Michelle instantly knew what he was doing. She’d practiced this particular maneuver in a joint training session with the FBI while at the Secret Service. As the boat zoomed alongside her she reached up and grabbed Whitfield’s hand. The man placed an iron grip on her arm with his other hand and his strength and the speed of the boat yanked her right out of the water and onto the boat’s deck. She didn’t even bother thanking him. She rolled to her feet, grabbed a gun and pointed it at the other boat as they drew close.
Michelle knew Viggie was on board so she couldn’t fire directly at them, but she did manage to place five shots in such a compact manner that the gunmen ducked down and gave Sean a chance to escape.
“Get close and we’ll grab him,” Michelle yelled.
“I don’t think I can do this,” Horatio called out from the helm.
Michelle slid over to the wheel while Whitfield lay across the gunwale again. As the RIB swooped by Sean was whisked into the boat.
“Hit it!” Whitfield screamed.
“What about Viggie!” Michelle screamed back.
“Hit it or we all die!”
Michelle slammed the throttle forward and the RIB shot ahead so fast Horatio and Sean almost fell overboard.
Michelle yelled over the howls of the storm, “We’re going to round up an army and then we’re going back across that fucking river and we’re getting Viggie back.”
She ran the RIB up on the shore on the other side of the York. They jumped off the boat and raced toward the entrance to Babbage Town. On the way, Sean stopped and retrieved his bag that he’d hidden behind a bush.
The caravan of Suburbans was parked at the entrance and Michelle led the way single file toward them. As soon as they showed themselves they were surrounded by agents. Merkle Hayes stepped forward. He wasn’t wearing a police uniform. He had on a blue windbreaker with the letters “DEA” stenciled on it. Agent Ventris was right next to him.
Sean stared at him. “DEA?”
“It’s a long story,” Hayes said.
“Have you rounded them up?” Michelle asked.
“Who?” Ventris said angrily. “There’s nobody here except a few guards.”
“The place was swarming with CIA guys in body armor,” Sean said.
“Well, they’re not here now.”
“We just had a gun battle on the river. They fired a rocket at us. Are you telling me you guys heard none of it?” Michelle asked incredulously.
Hayes said, “A siren’s been going off just about the whole time we’ve been here. We just got the damn thing turned off. So with that and the storm we haven’t heard anything.”
“Did you at least find the plane at the private strip filled with drugs?” Michelle asked.
Hayes shook his head. “There was no plane and no Champ Pollion when my men got there.”
“So—what drugs?” Ventris asked.
In answer Michelle reached in her pocket and pulled out the wet Baggie.
“These. There was at least a ton of it on Champ’s plane. Heroin.”
Hayes took the bag and looked at it. “And where’d it come from?”
Sean pointed across the river. “From over there. At Camp Peary.”
At that instant a fireball raced into the sky. It was clearly coming from the other side of the York.
Everyone turned their attention to the sight.
“What the hell is that?” Ventris yelled.
“Oh, shit!” Michelle exclaimed. “That plane I heard going over earlier. I bet that was Champ’s plane. He must’ve escaped and flew it to Camp Peary with the drugs. They just blew it up to get rid of the evidence.”
“So you’re saying those drugs really came from Camp Peary?” Hayes said while nervously eying Ventris.
“Tell them, Whitfield,” Sean said.
Only Whitfield wasn’t there.
“Where the hell did he go?” Sean said.
Michelle said, “Sean, I don’t think he followed us out of the woods.”
“Ian Whitfield was with us. He saved my life.”
“It’s true,” Michelle said and Horatio nodded in agreement.
“Dammit, you have to believe us,” Sean said.
“We want to,” Hayes said quietly.
“Hold on!” Sean shouted, pulling the video camera out of his backpack. “Look at this.” He ran the tape for them, pointing out the plane, the Arabs, Valerie Messaline, and the bales being off-loaded.
Ventris said, “This footage is of Camp Peary. How the hell did you get it?”
“We’re going to have to have some amnesty on that,” Sean said uneasily.
Michelle pushed past Sean so she was directly in front of Ventris. “Listen to me,” Michelle snapped. “They have kidnapped Viggie Turing. They took her in one of the boats and they’re probably on their way back to Camp Peary.”
“You saw this?” Hayes said quickly.
“Yes!” Michelle screamed. She grabbed Ventris’s jacket. “Kidnapped. Remember the FBI’s specialty? So let’s get going.”
Hayes said, “We can’t just storm into Camp Peary for God’s sake. We at least need a warrant.”
“Then dammit get one. You’re the local sheriff, Hayes!”
He sighed and said, “No, I’m not, I am with DEA. For the last two years Mike’s been working a joint task force with us. I was just planted here as the local sheriff.”
Michelle said, “Why here?”
“Because there have been a lot o
f drugs pouring into the East Coast. We narrowed it down to this area,” Ventris interjected. “We thought the source was Babbage Town, but we didn’t know how they were getting them into the country. We thought they were coming in by boat.”
“You must have known Champ had a plane,” Sean pointed out.
“We did. But that Cessna didn’t have the range to bring in shipments from out of the country. We wanted the source of the stuff,” Hayes said.
“We never suspected the CIA flights. They’re a government agency,” Ventris added, looking nervous.
Michelle snatched the tape from Sean and stuffed it into Ventris’s hands. “Here’s your damn proof. Now stop jawing about shit that doesn’t matter, file for a warrant and take a frigging battalion of cops across the river before something happens to Viggie. Because I swear to God if they hurt her while you’re standing here pissing around, I will hunt you down and kick the living shit out of you.”
Without hesitation Ventris said curtly, “Let’s go.”
Hayes said, “Mike, it’s the damn CIA.”
“All we can do is try.”
Chapter 87
It took some time to get a warrant at that hour, and the judge who granted it didn’t seem at all pleased about having authorized a search of Camp Peary. Yet the videotape and the testimony of Sean, Michelle and Horatio carried the day. Still, dawn was breaking as the line of Suburbans pulled to a stop in front of the entrance to the CIA’s facility and Ventris and Hayes led two dozen federal lawmen and Sean and Michelle toward the guardhouses.
At Sean’s insistence Horatio Barnes had been escorted back to northern Virginia by a pair of DEA agents to nurse his strained back, saturated lungs and a severely stressed nervous system. Sean had given him the copy of the video stick showing the plane, Arabs and drugs from Camp Peary with instructions for Horatio to make additional copies of it and to put them in separate safety-deposit boxes.
Ventris held up the warrant and his creds as three armed guards from the front gate approached him.
“You’d better get one of your superiors out here, gents,” Hayes said, flashing his badge as well.
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