Silent Waters

by Jan Coffey

  “Where am I going?” McCann asked.

  Bruce’s cell phone rang. “Same number as the last time. It’s Barnhardt.” He answered it on the second ring.

  “Yes, Captain.” There was a pause. “You were correct about that. But how did you know?”

  McCann made a turn and another turn. He was circling the block to give Bruce time to decide where they should go. The hospital and attached medical school took up about twelve blocks of downtown New Haven. “You saw us leave?” Dunn asked, looking at Sarah.

  Amy looked in the mirror again.

  “You want us to pick you up?”

  “It could be a trap,” Sarah whispered.

  “Captain Barnhardt, why don’t I come and see you alone. Maybe—”

  McCann slammed on the brakes as a car pulled out of a side street right in front of them. The passenger side window of the car was partially shattered and there were holes along the side that had clearly been made by bullets. The driver stepped out, holding a cell phone to his ear.

  “Too late,” McCann said under his breath.

  The driver was short and squarely built. Under the street light, a Yankees cap shadowed most of his face. Amy saw him stare at the ambulance as he continued to talk into his phone.

  “He says they know what Mako’s driving. If we want accurate information on the hijacking, we have to take him.” Bruce brought the phone down. “What do you think?”

  “We can handle him,” McCann answered.

  Barnhardt didn’t appear to have any doubts that they’d take him. He started for the passenger side, and Amy scrambled through between the seats into the back. Sarah motioned to her to sit low. She did.

  Barnhardt opened the ambulance door, took a quick glance inside at all the faces and climbed in without any greeting.

  McCann glared at the older man, then gave him a cold nod of recognition.

  “You might want to turn your cell phones off. They’re using them like a homing device to track you,” Barnhardt told them, following his own suggestion and turning off his phone.

  Bruce and Sarah were the only ones that had a cell phone on them. They both turned them off.

  Darius backed up the ambulance and drove around the car Barnhardt had been driving. A moment later, they were racing down the street in the direction of New Haven’s downtown. “Where to?”

  “Where there are lots of people and hopefully tons of reporters with television cameras. I’d like to have a stage for my performance,” Barnhardt said.

  He sounded ruffled.

  “There was supposed to be a political rally on the green tonight,” Amy said. “But that was before all the craziness happened today.”

  “Try it,” Barnhardt told McCann. “It’s worth a shot.”

  “You keep referring to they,” Sarah said. “Who are you referring to, Captain?”

  Barnhardt looked over his shoulder at them. “What I have to tell you will probably mean your death sentence. Are you sure you want to hear it?”

  “They killed a sedated young man in his hospital bed ten minutes ago” Bruce challenged. “They were coming after commander McCann or Ms. Russell. I’d say the death sentence has already been issued.”

  “You’re right. In fact, the crew left behind on Hartford was condemned to death the moment we sailed the sub away from that pier. Ms. Russell was included in that because she was in the wrong place at the wrong time.”

  McCann pulled the ambulance to the side of the road next to a boarded up mall and slammed on the brakes. All of them in the back were tossed around. Emergency apparatus and various supplies shifted and rattled. McCann lunged at Barnhardt, grabbing him by the throat and practically breaking the passenger side window with the man’s head.

  “You commanded that operation,” he barked. “You killed members of my crew.”

  The older man tried to reach for something at his belt, but McCann was faster. He took the gun and held it to Barnhardt’s head, his other hand still wrapped around the old sub driver’s throat.

  “There’s no reason to lose your temper, Commander McCann,” Barnhardt rasped. “I called Commander Dunn. I climbed inside this ambulance of my own accord. I came to you to tell the absolute truth. I am voluntarily telling you everything I’ve done…and everything I know.”

  McCann’s hold on the man’s throat didn’t ease a bit. “Nine of my crew members are dead. A billion dollar submarine is in danger of sinking to the bottom of Long Island Sound as we speak. A number of targets were hit using Hartford’s weapons. There are fatalities. How the hell can you say there’s no reason to lose my temper?”

  Barnhardt didn’t flinch. He looked directly into McCann’s eyes. “You’re too emotional and loyal to be in this line of business, Commander. Sub drivers like us don’t see people. Death has only one dimension, and that dimension doesn’t touch us. We can’t afford to have friends. We’re given a job, and it’s our responsibility to obey our overarching orders, sometimes ignoring the gutless calls of paper pushers in a moment of crisis. We do what we have to do, no matter what the consequences.”

  “Under whose orders did you take Hartford,” McCann asked.

  Barnhardt tried to look down at where McCann’s hand squeezed his neck. “Commander Dunn, your friend is changing my mind about what I’d like to contribute to your investigation.”

  “Regardless of what Commander McCann does,” Bruce told him, “you will contribute what you can, Captain Barnhardt. I believe you’ve been given the same death sentence and you’re looking for a way to save your life.”

  “If my life was all that I was worried about, I’d be out of the country by now,” Barnhardt said. “No. I’m looking for a way to get even. But if you don’t get moving soon, none of us are going to live long enough to even any scores or solve any investigation. We’re sitting ducks here, and they’re going to spot us, sure as hell.”

  McCann let go of the man’s throat and handed the gun to Bruce. The ambulance pulled back onto the road.

  “Are we going to play games or are you going to start answering some of our questions?” Sarah asked.

  “I want to make a deal first.”

  “What do you want?” Bruce asked.

  “Protection.”

  Sarah and Bruce put their heads together for a couple of seconds, whispering to each other.

  “There will have to be a guilty plea. We’ll ask for a reduced sentence,” Sarah told him.

  “I’m not guilty. I was only following orders,” Barnhardt explained.

  “Following orders is not a reasonable defense,” Sarah reminded him.

  “I don’t care what the plea is. I want a guarantee that I walk.”

  Bruce and Sarah spoke quietly among themselves again. Amy looked at McCann. She could see how he was struggling to stay neutral in this situation. Finally, he couldn’t stay quiet.

  “Following orders,” McCann hissed at the man next to him. “Is that how you got the crew on Hartford to go along with the hijacking?”

  “That’s correct, Commander. The ones who helped us believed the entire operation was just an elaborate naval exercise. A terror response drill. They were following specific orders.”

  “Given by you?”

  “Yes. They knew me. But they knew the entire mission was also approved by someone above me.”

  “Who?” McCann asked.

  Barnhardt looked over his shoulder at the two investigators. “Do we have a deal?”

  Dunn was the one who spoke. “Whatever evidence you have better be good.”

  “It doesn’t get any better,” Barnhardt said.

  “That depends on what you can offer the prosecution,” Sarah told him. “It has to stand up in court.”

  “I have it.”

  Dunn nodded. “Then we have a deal.”

  A heavy silence fell inside the car. Barnhardt looked out the window first. They were approaching the green. There were people on the street, all walking in the same direction, some chanting, others carrying
political campaign signs. Most of the signs were against the present administration. Everyone carried flashlights or glow sticks or what looked to be candles. The ambulance stopped at a stoplight, and pedestrians crossed in front of them.

  “The hijacking was about this,” the older man said.

  Everyone’s gaze turned to him.

  “Politics. The election,” he explained. “Today was supposed to be a shock to wake up the American voter. It was to be a sudden and stark affirmation of President Hawkins’s military strengths.”

  The passengers were speechless. Amy looked at the protestors on the street, then back at the man sitting in the passenger seat. The country wanted Hawkins out. Staunch supporters admitted that his election had been a mistake. He’d barely gotten his own party’s nomination for reelection, and even that had come with bitterness about his people’s strong arm techniques.

  When it came to the internal affairs and the everyday life of Americans, nothing had been accomplished over the past four years. There was still a lack of decent health care for most of the country. Unemployment rates continued to climb. And many other important issues had been pushed aside while the president kept his focus on his bullying foreign policies. With the exception of a couple of countries who claimed to be U.S. allies, the rest of the world seemed to hate Americans.

  It had been four painful years, but people seemed to be waking up. There’d been no doubt that Hawkins would be defeated by John Penn.

  “Are you saying that the President of United States ordered this hijacking just to get reelected?” Amy asked.

  “This is really nothing new.” Barnhardt told them. “Nervous voters stay the course.”

  “Answer the question, Captain,” Sarah demanded. “Was the President of the United States involved in this?”

  Barnhardt turned around and looked at her. “Yes.”

  “Can you prove it?” Bruce asked.

  Amy saw the black SUV that pulled to their right. “I think you should drive,” she urged McCann.

  He pressed his foot on the gas.

  “I left you a present. See what you can do with it,” Barnhardt said before the passenger window exploded, spattering McCann with the captain’s blood.

  ~~~~

  Chapter 66

  New Haven, CT

  10:50 p.m.

  “He’s dead,” Bruce announced after reaching over the seat to check for Barnhardt’s pulse.

  Glancing at the body slumped over the center console, McCann had no doubt. Turning on the siren and lights, he gunned the ambulance along Church Street, swerving between cars. Checking the side view mirror, he could see the black SUV was right on his tail.

  “Check his pockets. He must have something on him. What did he mean by leaving you a present?”

  “Whether he was lying or telling the truth,” Sarah said from the back, “everything he told us is worthless without proof. There’s no way we can repeat any of this to Admiral Meisner without having him hand our heads back to us.”

  “Can you trust this Admiral Meisner?” Amy asked.

  Neither of the two working for the admiral answered the question.

  Nearing the end of the city green, the SUV pulled beside them. Jerking the wheel of the ambulance to the right, McCann buffeted the car into the far right lane and then cranked the wheel to the left, his vehicle bouncing up onto the sidewalk in front of the courthouse before racing along the north side of the green.

  Thankfully, most of the foot traffic for the demonstration was in the center of the green. The only things McCann hit were a couple of newspaper boxes, a sign or two, and a mailbox.

  Bruce pulled a few things out of the dead man’s pockets. “Wallet, cell phone, pocket knife, house keys. Damn it! There’s nothing.”

  McCann took another look in the side mirror. Two cars were chasing after them, now. Both unmarked SUVs. Very much government type, he thought. A police car followed them.

  “We can’t get away from them in this thing,” McCann warned them. “And it’s only a matter of minutes before the hospital reports the ambulance stolen. Then, every police car in the state will be after us, too.”

  “Remember what Barnhardt said about reporters and cameras?” Amy asked.

  McCann spotted a Channel 8 News van in the center of the crowd.

  “Police, reporters, cameras,” he repeated. “I wonder how they’re going to explain this chase to them.”

  As McCann cranked the wheel again to the left, the ambulance jerked up onto the sidewalk. McCann floored it across the green with his siren blaring.

  “What are you going to do?” Sarah asked.

  “You two better call someone you trust. You’ve got one minute,” he ordered.

  McCann steered around groups of pedestrians toward the parked news vans. Behind them, the black SUVs were making their way more cautiously across the green.

  Church Street was ahead, and on the far side, the steps of the newly renovated City Hall were brightly lit.

  “Hold on,” he told them as the ambulance crashed through the wrought iron fence bordering the green, tearing across the wide sidewalk.

  McCann drove straight into traffic, narrowly missing two cars coming from the right before smashing into two police cars that sat in a line of squad cars at the curb.

  Cops came running from everywhere, swarming around the ambulance in seconds.

  Bruce turned on his cell phone and started to make a call.

  ~~~~

  Chapter 67

  Newport, Rhode Island

  11:00 p.m.

  John Penn threw his reading glasses on the desk and ran a tired hand down his face. “I’m done, boys.”

  “Five more minutes. Let me check out this last one,” McCarthy pleaded, taking a fax from Greg and perusing the page.

  John knew it wouldn’t be five minutes. They were waiting for the results of the latest poll they were running, based on the unsubstantiated report that the plane crash in Branford Connecticut had Hartford hijackers on board.

  This fax was from Oregon. Then they had to wait for Washington State. Then it’d be the big one, California. And it didn’t matter that they thought they had California wrapped up last week.

  The inner circle of staff members—and John—had stayed up to make sure the phone surveys matched their expectations. If they didn’t, McCarthy wouldn’t stop whining until John would agree to some last minute television or radio interview.

  So much for not campaigning today.

  The phone rang. John looked at the display and recognized the number. It was the public line to his office. At this time on any other night, the answering machine would greet the caller. But tonight, one of the weary campaign aides answered the call.

  John heard the young woman start her standard screening questions, but she quickly turned to him.

  “It’s for you, Senator,” she told him, mouthing that it was important.

  John considered letting either Moore or McCarthy handle the call. Whoever was on the phone couldn’t be a family member or a member of any of the Senate committees; they would have called on his private line. But he changed his mind and decided to take it.

  “Senator Penn.” The voice was sharp, and John could hear sirens and shouting in the background.

  “Speaking.”

  “Sir, this is Commander Bruce Dunn, one of the two Naval Intelligence officers put in charge of the investigation of the Hartford hijacking this morning. My colleague and I report to Admiral Meisner.”

  Penn knew Meisner and his job at the Pentagon. “What can I do for you, Commander?”

  “Sir, we’re presently getting picked up by the New Haven, Connecticut, Police for questioning. In my company is the other investigator in charge of this case, Lieutenant Connelly, and the only two survivors from Hartford, Commander McCann and the Electric Boat ship superintendent, Amy Russell.”

  Penn didn’t know the two had survived. None of this had been released to the public.

  “We also have
with us the dead body of the individual who claimed responsibility for spearheading the hijacking. His name was Captain Ramsey Barnhardt.”

  Penn’s mind reeled with all the information. He’d met Barnhardt, heard him speak at a number of Senate hearings a few years back. An arrogant bastard, but well qualified.

  “Captain Barnhardt took responsibility for the hijacking?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Why are you calling me, Commander, and not Admiral Meisner?”

  “Because prior to being shot by those who’ve been pursuing us, sir, Captain Ramsey accused the President of United States of being the one who ordered the hijacking.”

  “Shit.” Penn wasn’t aware that he’d sworn aloud. Everyone in the room was staring at him.

  “Sir, at this point we don’t know who’s involved in the conspiracy. You’re the only person we’re contacting for assistance.”

  “Of course. Of course.” Penn started pacing, motioning for his staff to stop what they were doing. “Are you in any present danger, Commander Dunn?”

  “We’ve been requested to go to the New Haven Police Station for questioning. We’re certain, however, that our pursuers are no farther away than the crowd’s edge.” Dunn paused. “Sorry sir, they’re telling me to cut the call and get in the car.”

  “That’s a good idea, Commander. Stay safe. I’ll take care of things from this end.”

  Penn hadn’t even hung up before his shouts rang into the room. “Gibbs, I need a helicopter to take me to New Haven. And I want it escorted by military choppers.” He whirled on the other aides. “We have to make some calls, and I don’t care what time it is. Wake them up if you have to, but get all these people on the phone. Tell them it’s a matter of national security, of life and death. I want calls to the Vice President, the Speaker of the House, both Senate Leaders, the Secretary of State, Secretary of Defense, the Attorney General—”

  “What’s this about?” McCarthy interrupted him.

  “I was just told that Will Hawkins has committed the most reprehensible act that a sitting President could ever do. He ordered an act that has put more than ten million American’s lives in danger.”