Silent Waters

by Jan Coffey

  “That’s great,” McCarthy replied. “I’ll put a press conference together right away.”

  “Cut the crap, Anthony,” Penn snapped. “All of that has to wait. We have to take care of this country and its people first.”

  “I have the Vice President on line, Senator,” one of the aides called from the other end of the room.

  “Why are you calling so many of them?” McCarthy asked.

  “Because one or two might be in on this. But all of them?” He shook his head. “My long held faith in the system of checks and balances has just been reaffirmed.”

  Penn pressed the blinking light and picked up the phone. “Mr. Vice President. Before I give you a run down of the disaster we have on our hands, you should know that this same phone call is being made to the Attorney General and every member of the President’s Cabinet.”

  ~~~~

  Chapter 68

  New Haven

  Connecticut, 11:15 p.m.

  Two police cruisers took them to the station. Another ambulance had arrived before they left the scene, and the two EMTs declared the fifth passenger dead.

  Amy and McCann were in the first cruiser, and Sarah and Bruce followed in the second. All of them, with the exception of Amy, who was dressed in borrowed scrubs, had shown identification. But they’d refused to make a statement, insisting on being taken to the station. The shattered window of the ambulance made it clear that Barnhardt had been shot, but there were still many questions about the stolen vehicle, why they’d been driving in excess of eighty miles per hour around New Haven green, and who the gun that Bruce had belonged to.

  Sarah was glad their identification had carried some clout, since they hadn’t been searched or handcuffed. They were just asked to ride in the back seat.

  The police cars struggled to cut through the crowds of curiosity seekers who’d forgotten their rally. As they crawled past, Sarah was blinded by the lights of the camera crews of the news station filming footage of the escapade.

  “How far away do you think it is to the police station?” she asked Bruce as the officer driving their car blasted the siren intermittently to encourage people to step back.

  “I don’t know, but I doubt Kilo and his crew would be stupid enough to try to stop us before we get there,” Bruce told her.

  Sarah looked over her shoulder. People were closing the gap as the police car moved along. She couldn’t see the SUVs that had been in pursuit of them earlier.

  “Do you think we might have jumped the gun,” she asked quietly. The police car turned right and picked up speed.

  “About Barnhardt’s claim?”

  She nodded. “What happens if we don’t find anything? Or if there’s no evidence as he promised?”

  “Unless we’re just part of an elaborate set-up, which I don’t think is likely, there has to be a money trail.”

  “True, but I would bet my life that it doesn’t reach the President,” Sarah said.

  “That’s true,” Bruce admitted. “But we had no choice. Even on the surface, Penn is the only one who wouldn’t benefit from this hijacking. But I can’t honestly say who in the administration would go along with something this crazy.”

  “If we’re wrong, then we’re taking Senator Penn’s career down with us.” Sarah said.

  Bruce sighed. “But I tend to believe Barnhardt was telling the truth. Why else did they send those goons to kill him?”

  Sarah looked out the window. The crowd was much larger now than it had been when McCann had been racing around in the ambulance. She wondered how it was that the rally could bring out so many after such a chaotic day. Perhaps it was exactly because of that. People wanted to be part of history.

  Bruce broke into her thoughts. “Meisner is the only one who has me concerned. He should have been our first call, but in a situation like this, I have no take on him.”

  “He had ulterior motives for choosing me for this case,” Sarah said. “He assumed I’d muddle the investigation. That doesn’t inspire confidence.”

  “The same goes for choosing me.”

  “Why?”

  “I asked to work with you. Maybe he figured I’d be so blinded by your charm and beauty that I’d forget what I’m doing.”

  “Come on.”

  “Well, that’s partly true.”

  “Were you blinded, Commander?”

  “Of course,” he deadpanned. “If I’d paid attention to what the heck I was doing, this case would have been wrapped up before lunchtime.”

  She smiled, shaking her head. “You sure know how to pick your moments, don’t you?”

  Bruce’s phone beeped. He had a voice message. Sarah decided to turn on her cell phone, too, just in case Senator Penn wanted to contact them. She checked the display. She had three voice mails.

  The police officer who was driving the car looked in the rearview mirror at her. “Officer, is it okay to check my messages? They could be important.”

  The young man gave a half-hearted nod. He looked as if he didn’t know whether to treat them as criminals or to salute them.

  Bruce didn’t bother to ask. He was already listening to his messages.

  “First one, Meisner,” he told her. “The hospital called him about Brody. He doesn’t know where we are or what the hell is going on.”

  Sarah dialed her own voice mail. An identical message was left by the admiral on her phone, as well. She saw Bruce sit forward, adjusting the phone to his ear.

  “I have a forwarded message from Barnhardt. It’s also distributed to you, too.”

  She still had her phone on. The message Bruce was talking about started.

  “Here is something for your investigations, Commander Dunn, Lieutenant Connelly.”

  Several clicks followed, and then the sound of a number being punched in. When the voices came on, Sarah realized she was listening to a taped conversation between the President and Barnhardt.

  She listened to the conversation, hearing the President’s voice as he implicated himself in the hijacking.

  Bruce and Sarah looked at each other when the conversation cut short.

  “Everything is here,” he said quietly as he glanced at the cop behind the wheel. “Barnhardt was Mako and the other guy spells out his involvement.”

  “Yes, but this won’t stand up in court,’” Sarah challenged.

  “Maybe it will and maybe it won’t,” he admitted. “But it will definitely start the ball rolling for impeachment.”

  She lowered her voice. “The election is tomorrow. A voluntary resignation might be the fastest way to get him out of office.”

  “You’d let him walk after all this?” he asked.

  “We’d be taking away his power.” She shrugged. “But who knows, maybe the money trail will lead to him, anyway. Or perhaps we can find the man they call Kilo. He seems to be getting his orders right from the top. There’s nothing like first-person testimony.”

  “That’s assuming they let him…or any of us…live.”

  ~~~~

  Chapter 69

  New Haven

  Connecticut, 11:25 p.m.

  “Thanks for the offer, but I really don’t want anything to eat or drink,” Amy told the female officer who had her sit and wait by one of the desks. Suddenly, she was so exhausted that she could hardly think straight. “I do need to use the phone, though.”

  “Sorry, ma’am, but I can only let you use it when I get the okay.”

  Amy tried to be patient, but she couldn’t, not after all she’d been through today. She wanted to call home and see if Kaitlyn and Zack were all right. She didn’t know who was looking after them. Back at the hospital, when she’d first introduced herself, Lieutenant Connelly had said that they were being cared for. But that was it. No more information.

  At this hour, with the rally going after what had to be a law enforcement day from hell, the police station was practically deserted. Darius, Sarah, and Bruce were in one of the offices speaking to whoever was in charge. Everyone fi
gured that Amy had nothing to do with anything.

  Then why wouldn’t they let her call her family.

  She leaned forward, cradling her head in her hands. Somewhere along the way, she’d forgotten about the headache, but it was back, pounding away with a vengeance.

  “I’m making a fresh pot of coffee. If you change your mind, let me know,” the officer said, disappearing inside of what looked to be an employee lounge at the far end of the room.

  Amy sat back in the chair, quite aware that she was the only person in the large open area, surrounded by clusters of desks and chairs. There were extra computers on desks in the center of the room. The door to the office where Darius and the others had entered was closed. She heard a noise from the hall. It sounded like someone falling down.

  Or maybe…someone getting shot.

  ~~~~

  Chapter 70

  The White House

  11:25 p.m.

  “I don’t care how we do it, but we have to cut our losses,” Hawkins bellowed at Bob Fortier.

  “You’re overreacting, Mr. President. This has to be a bluff. Let it ride. We must stay on course.”

  “Five phone calls isn’t a bluff, you idiot.” Hawkins held up his spread hand so the other man could count his fingers. “Five of my Cabinet members have called me in the past ten minutes, wondering what the hell is going on. And if I am really tied to the hijacking in some way. The Attorney General hasn’t, yet. But I know what the fuck he’s doing. He’s getting a warrant for my arrest.”

  “Mr. President.” Fortier put both hands up in his patronizing style that was really starting to get under Hawkins’s skin. “I think you and everyone else should just relax and get some sleep. There is nothing that can be traced back to you. An investigation like this takes months to conduct. And there are all kinds of legal loopholes. Meanwhile, tomorrow is the election. A lot of people have invested in you, all the way down the ladder to the local level.”

  Hawkins barked at him. “You’re not hearing me. I don’t give a fuck about local or party politics.”

  “No one—not John Penn or anyone else—can touch you. If this hits the news, we just laugh it off. Call it a slanderous hoax being foisted off on the public by an opponent desperate to win. They can prove anything. You’re going to be reelected, Mr. President, and then you’re—”

  “Are you fucking deaf?” Hawkins shouted. “Right now, I don’t care about being reelected. I only care about one thing, and that is keeping my ass out of the fire. Understood?”

  Wisely, Fortier didn’t argue.

  “We have to turn this thing around tonight, so that we are the good guys,” Hawkins told him. “Blowing up the plane with the hijackers was a positive move. Killing that lunatic, Barnhardt, was another step in the right direction. Now, we have to stop that maniac Kilo before he totally gets out of control.”

  “I agree that Nick Harmon can become somewhat overzealous, at times. That’s why he should always be kept on a short leash—the way Captain Barnhardt used him. Specific orders, short duration of time,” Fortier explained.

  “Then reel him in. I don’t want him to burn down that whole damn city because of a couple of people who can’t hurt us.”

  “I tried to do that. But he’s, well, unavailable.”

  “What do you mean, unavailable?” Hawkins roared.

  “Our men said Kilo is already inside the police station.”

  ~~~~

  Chapter 71

  New Haven, Connecticut

  11:30 p.m.

  Kilo tucked his pistol in his jacket and stepped over the dead body of the policeman. Down the hall, he could see the open space of an office area.

  His NCIS badge had once again helped him to gain clearance past the front entrance. The unsuspecting dispatcher had been completely unaware that he’d just sealed his own death warrant.

  Several desks filled the large space, but no one seemed to be around. Kilo looked at the three closed doors along the right wall. He wondered which one of those offices his prey were hiding in. As he moved into the room, a noise to his left drew his attention. Beyond a partially open door, he could hear water running. He drew his weapon and silently approached.

  A counter with cabinets, a couple of coffee pots. A kitchen table with chairs. With each step, he saw a little more of the employee lounge area. The water in the sink was running, but no one was standing by it.

  He shoved the door all the way open. It banged against the wall and bounced back. He looked in. No one was there. He backed out quickly.

  “NHPD,” a woman’s voice called out behind him. “Drop your weapon and put your hands behind your head. Now!”

  He started to turn around.

  “Drop your weapon now!” the woman shouted.

  He heard a door open across the room. He looked over his shoulder and saw a plainclothes cop rush into the room with his weapon drawn. McCann was right beside him. And there was the EB bitch that had given him so much grief all day.

  Kilo looked back at the female cop. She didn’t want to shoot. He knew he could take both cops out before she even got off one round. He glanced at McCann. No threat there, either.

  They’d already wasted too much time. He had to finish the job.

  He spun and lifted his pistol with a speed that he knew was unmatched by anything these greenhorns ever faced. A gun fired. Kilo thought it was his, but suddenly he couldn’t find enough strength to fire a second shot. His pistol dropped to the floor. A second shot fired.

  That one wasn’t his, either, he thought with surprise as the floor rose up to meet him.

  ~~~~

  Chapter 72

  Stonington, Connecticut

  One month later,

  Friday 8:10 a.m.

  “The school bus will be here in fifteen minutes,” Amy warned her rambunctious children.

  This morning, Kaitlyn couldn’t seem to decide between the white sneakers or the blue clogs.

  Zack had been in the bathroom for more than five minutes, which meant there’d be some kind of disaster waiting for Amy in there. Yesterday, he’d created a mummy out of her bathroom magazine basket with toilet paper. The day before that, he’d poured an entire bottle of bath bubbles into the toilet. She didn’t want to guess what would be waiting for her today.

  As Amy finished packing the two lunches and put them in the school bags, she found herself thankful, as always, for the noise and the mess and the bickering. She also found herself dwelling on changes that were in store for them.

  After the hijacking, she’d taken a week off. Upon going back to EB the following week, however, Amy had realized that she couldn’t do it. She was ready for change. New hours. A different job. Something. She had to get out of the shipyard and away from the reminders of what she’d gone through.

  These feelings were helped along by the fact that it was inevitable for another wave of layoffs to take place. The security problems associated with the Hartford hijacking were a smear on the shipyard’s reputation that wouldn’t be erased too easily. She was planning on putting a new resume together next week.

  Amy’s gaze drifted for a second to the folded newspaper sitting on the counter. Darius smiled back at her from his photo in the Accent page, and she felt the now familiar tug on her heart. Darius McCann’s handsome face was worthy of a thousand articles, and he was a story that never got old. America loved its heroes, and he’d become even bigger news than John Penn’s narrow defeat of Hawkins in the Presidential election.

  As far as the press and the public knew, the hijacking had been the work of a group of home-grown terrorists, although the details were still sketchy. Barnhardt’s name had reached the press, but not the others. The rest of the culprits had died in the plane crash. The tabloid press was still fuming daily at the secrecy with which the “ongoing investigation” was being handled.

  Interestingly enough, since the recovery of the submarine, there had not been one whisper about any possible involvement on the part of William Haw
kins or anyone else in his administration.

  Sarah Connelly had called Amy the week following the ordeal. With the election turning out as it had, she’d told Amy that there probably wouldn’t be any immediate action to remove the President, but that the Vice President would be assuming most of his duties, without fanfare for the final days of the term. Still, she and Bruce were working with an elite group at the Justice Department to build the criminal case against the President, his campaign manager, and a handful of their helpers and financial backers. Admiral Meisner had not been implicated, Sarah told her.

  Criminal charges would be brought against Hawkins and the others once he left office in January. Of course, there was always the chance that John Penn would sign a pardon for his former rival, but Sarah doubted that would happen. Knowing what she knew, Amy couldn’t help but agree.

  Meanwhile, stories had leaked to the press about Commander Darius McCann’s bravery. He’d granted very few interviews. He’d made a point of flying to Florida to visit his parents and make sure his mother was recovering well, but he had yet to show up on the talk shows. The navy wanted to show him off, but he wasn’t ready to step into the limelight.

  Amy had also been approached by reporters wanting her to talk about her experience, but she’d refused all of them—even the movie people. She wanted no reminders and no attention. She wanted to forget that she had ever been there. Beside, she had someone much better than Tom Cruise in her life.

  Due to the investigations, Darius had been needed in Washington while Amy and the kids were in Connecticut. But for the past month, he’d come every Saturday and Sunday to visit. There was something very right about the time they all spent together. The twins had accepted him right away. He was fun, and he showed genuine interest in them, in their activities, their interests, and in Amy.