by Jan Coffey
Bruce didn’t know if this was a hopeful sign that everything was finished between McCann and Sarah or not.
“Identifying some of the other bodies on board might give you more clues,” McCann finally said, turning his attention back on Dunn.
“That’s what we’re hoping.”
McCann got up from the chair and poured himself a cup of water, downing it in one gulp. “How has the public been taking the situation?”
“This morning, there was mass hysteria to get out of New York City. Actually, it was fairly chaotic everywhere else along the coast. After President Hawkins’s speech this afternoon about Hartford being disabled, there was more chaos as everyone tried to get back home. But it isn’t over.”
“The hijackers are still free,” McCann said.
Bruce nodded. “Those were the exact words Senator Penn used at his press conference a couple of hours ago. He reminded everyone that the country isn’t safe until the perpetrators are all found.”
“That should have caused some backtracking in the White House.”
“I’m sure, though I haven’t heard anything. I would guess that since Penn’s speech, the President has even the Boy Scouts out searching for the DSRV.”
McCann looked up at the clock on the wall. “That won’t do anyone any good. Those sons of bitches are already out of the water.”
~~~~
Chapter 55
Branford, Connecticut
8:35 p.m.
A grove of pines hid the farmhouse from neighboring properties. They couldn’t have chosen a more ideal location for a transfer point, Mako thought. At this time of year, none of the nearby cottages were occupied. This deserted farm, with its flat acreage and close proximity to the Interstate, was currently locked up in a drawn-out court battle.
Mako and his people only planned to use it for a couple of hours.
The small house sat within sight of an old pier with pilings deep enough to easily accommodate the eight-foot draft of the submersible. Behind the house and some sixty yards toward the woods was an airstrip, overrun with weeds and grass from disuse. Still, it was long enough to allow the landing and takeoff of a twin-engine turboprop. That was all they needed.
Everything moved according to plan. Everyone knew what they had to do.
Mako glanced at his watch and then looked up to see the fishing boat moving away from the dock. Her running lights flickered on the water in front of her. Behind her, she was towing the unmanned and submerged forty-foot DSRV that had brought them to shore from Hartford. The submersible was simply being returned to the vicinity of the oil rig on Long Island Sound, where it had originally been taken from.
The oil rig was still on fire. Mako’s demolitions man had packed the rescue vehicle with explosives. Once the fishing boat’s tow line was cut and some distance was put between the two vessels, the submersible would self-destruct, joining the fate of its mother facility.
Mako turned around as one of the engines of the Beech 1900 aircraft came to life. The lights were on under the wings of the craft. A couple of the crew members closed the cargo bay on the plane. All the equipment was loaded. Mako turned around, looking for Kilo. He was standing in the spotlight of the plane, against an old station wagon by the garage. He had his back to Mako and appeared to be talking on his cell phone.
Mako motioned to his crew to board the plane. His sharp gaze swept over the moonlit property, checking for any mistakes, anything left behind. They’d stayed out of the farmhouse, so that wasn’t a concern.
Kilo ended the call and headed in Mako’s direction.
“We’re ready to go,” Mako said.
“I have to go separately.”
“What’s the matter?”
“The phone call.” Kilo looked at the plane as the second engine started up. “Three survivors have been taken off Hartford.”
“I didn’t hear any of that. That information didn’t come over our satellite channels.” Mako had the de-encryption for all of Pittsburgh’s communications.
“They’re already suspecting an inside job. That’s why they’ve taken everything under. I’ve been directed to eliminate the three who survived. McCann is one of them. We don’t know what they saw or heard.”
“Where have they taken them?”
“Yale-New Haven. It should be easy to get in and out,” Kilo told him. “You go on. I’ll catch up to you at the last stop at 1600 hours tomorrow, before we go north.”
Something didn’t sit right with Mako. He didn’t like the fact that they would hire him to do a job but would call Kilo to finish up the loose ends. He was tempted to tell the other man that he was coming with him to complete the assignment. But that was risky. Kilo operated on the edge. He could always have other directives. He was also too messy. The possibility of exposure wasn’t worth it.
“All right,” Mako said, giving the man a pat on the back before turning toward the plane. “I’ll see you at 1600.”
~~~~
Chapter 56
Yale-New Haven Hospital
8:36 p.m.
She was on dry land. In a hospital. Alive. But they weren’t allowing her to call her children or Barbara or her parents.
Amy was becoming increasingly annoyed.
Still, she couldn’t take it out on Lieutenant Connelly. The woman had been extremely pleasant to her while asking a thousand questions about each minute she’d been stuck on Hartford.
But Amy was starting to lose patience period. She sent the other woman a narrow glare.
“You want to run that last question by me again?”
“Between your arrival on board before the hijacking and the moment Commander McCann summoned you and Brody back to the control room, anyone could have been in charge in the control room and you wouldn’t have known.”
“This isn’t what you asked,” Amy said shortly.
“I’m trying to break the question into smaller pieces.”
“I’m not an infant. I can handle it.”
What the hell, Amy thought. Her head pounded. She’d ended up with God knew how many stitches on her forehead. Her stomach still felt queasy as a result of what the emergency room doctor said was a concussion she suffered at the time of the explosion.
“Whatever your question was, my understanding of it is that you’re accusing Commander McCann of being responsible for the hijacking. You’re trying to get me to say he ordered his people to lock him in the ship’s office. That he had them shoot at him. That he—”
“I’m not accusing him of anything,” the lieutenant said quickly. “At the same time, I think it’s important that we approach this from every possible angle. Neither you nor Brody saw who the leader was. What I’m trying to do is eliminate the possibility that Commander McCann could have been running the show when he wasn’t in your company. I’m trying to head off any future investigation.”
Amy sat up and swung her legs over the side of the bed. Her head pounded even worse when she sat up, and the stupid hospital gown probably offered a clear glimpse of her ass to anyone walking behind her, but she didn’t care.
“You’re bringing out the shipyard in me.”
“What do you mean by that?”
“It means that I’m just about ready to start getting into your face.” Amy stonily returned the startled look Connelly sent her. “And I mean right now.”
“Amy, the last thing I want to do is upset you,” Lieutenant Connelly said softly.
“The last thing you should be doing is accusing one of your own, a man who bravely stopped at least another dozen weapons from being launched. The same man who took the whole lot of those hijackers on almost single-handedly, and succeeded in being such a pain in the ass to them that they ran with their tails between their legs. Commander McCann saved my life and Brody’s life more than once while we were trapped in that sub.” She threw both hands in the air, frustrated. “And the submarine itself. My God, I don’t know what’s left of it, but he brought it to the surface, didn’t he? You
should celebrate him as a hero, not sit here questioning his honor.”
The navy investigator started to speak, but Amy remembered something else and interrupted. Her mind was a total jumble. She wasn’t willing to risk forgetting it.
“Wait a minute. In the ship’s office on the second level, there’s a laptop. It has one of those Electric Boat property stickers on it, so you won’t miss it. I suppose that area got wet. But even if it did, get your computer guys to check the memory. Check the e-mail McCann tried to send your people right after we were locked up in there. You read that and tell me if it’s from someone who’s masterminding a hijacking operation.”
Connelly nodded and wrote something on her pad of paper. “I appreciate your defense of him.”
It may have been the quiet way that she said it, but the words seemed to sprout wings, and Amy found herself looking for the meaning as they took flight in her head.
The lieutenant’s blue eyes shone with something that resembled affection when they looked up. “Ms. Russell. Like you, I believe he’s innocent. I believe he’s a hero.”
Amy bit her tongue to keep from asking the question. She already knew the answer. It was woman’s instinct. That sixth sense that told her there was something between Lieutenant Connelly and Commander McCann.
She was too tired, maybe even too doped up. Amy knew she wasn’t herself as a tightness squeezed her throat. This was madness. She didn’t know anything about McCann’s personal life. She had no right to feel any ties, any connection. Her attraction to him was a surprise and totally inappropriate. She was becoming emotional over nothing.
“Are we done?” Amy asked in what she hoped was a clear voice.
“For now.”
“Good. I want to call my son and daughter.” She had to ask, even if it was for the umpteenth time.
“I’m sorry, but that’s not possible yet. We’ll let you know when it’s safe.”
Safe for who? Amy asked herself. What was safe about letting two seven-year-olds think their mother might be dead?
She felt herself really choking up now. “You can close the frigging door on your way out.”
Amy lay back down and pulled the covers up to her chin. She closed her eyes, knowing sleep was hardly a possibility.
~~~~
Chapter 57
Branford, Connecticut
8:38 p.m.
Mako closed the door to the airplane behind him. The seat nearest to the door had been saved for him. He sat down and buckled up. The lights in the cabin were off. There were empty seats, and the others were scattered throughout the small plane. Some of the men had died, some lived. That was the nature of this line of business. It was the risk they all took. Mako wasn’t going to lose any sleep over it.
He looked through the small window at Kilo, who was now leaning against his car, cell phone again held to his ear. Another phone call. Mako took his own cell phone out of his pocket and took a look at the display. No missed calls. He put the phone back in his pocket.
One of the men sitting behind him was listening to a news station on the radio. One specific word caught Mako’s attention. He peered over his shoulder. “What was it they just said?”
“Dead or alive. They are talking about the rescue on Hartford. They don’t know how many are dead or how many are alive.”
Mako turned around in his seat and looked out the window again. Kilo was getting into the station wagon.
There’d been too many screw-ups with this operation. Hartford was supposed to sink to the bottom of the Sound. There weren’t supposed to be any survivors. A dead Darius McCann was supposed to take the rap for planning it. A few things had gone wrong and a few things had gone right.
The plane began rolling toward the end of the runway.
Mako tried to look at this entire operation through the eyes of those who’d hired him. The job was done. The three survivors were a problem, but they were being taken care of by Kilo. A bigger problem was that everyone knew they’d gotten away. That wasn’t good. They’d be found. For the people that hired him, dead would be better than alive.
At the end of the runway, the pilot revved the engines. Mako looked out the small window. The taillights of the station wagon were disappearing down the dirt drive that led to the main road.
“Hold on,” he said, tapping the pilot on the back. He unbuckled his seatbelt and opened the door. “I’m getting out.”
~~~~
Chapter 58
Yale-New Haven Hospital
8:39 p.m.
It was too hot, but they couldn’t open the windows for safety reasons. McCann got up and looked for a thermostat. Finding it, he turned it down and opened the door. He was told they had the hospital wing to themselves. He scanned the empty hallway. He knew which room Brody was in, and wondered which one was Amy’s.
Brody’s condition wasn’t too good. The bullets had been removed from his leg, but he was scheduled for another surgery tomorrow morning. There was a concern he might lose the leg. They had him drugged up for the night.
He hadn’t seen Amy since they arrived here. He wanted to. Dunn had mentioned that Sarah was debriefing her. At least he’d been told the extent of her injuries and that she was okay.
He stepped back into the room. It didn’t matter that the other man was a navy investigator. McCann felt comfortable enough with Dunn to cut through the bullshit and tell him what was on his mind.
“The fact that I’m half Middle Eastern was the sole reason they pushed Parker aside and arranged for me to be on board this morning. They were trying to pin this entire thing on me.”
“Interestingly enough,” Dunn said, “during the first briefing at the Pentagon, that little tidbit of information about your parentage was one of the first things to come up.”
“Who brought it up?”
“Rear Admiral Smith.”
“I thought he was dead,” McCann said.
“He was, but he was resurrected this morning by President Hawkins himself.”
“Did anyone pounce on that information?” McCann asked, angry that idiots like Smith would press that button, in spite of his exemplary record.
“No one. In fact, Admiral Meisner worked hard to quash that discussion as a red herring.”
“So did Commander Dunn.”
Both of them turned toward the doorway. Sarah was leaning against the doorjamb, her arms crossed over her chest. She looked as beautiful as ever. Beautiful, polished, and professional.
McCann felt a peculiar rush and realized that it wasn’t for the woman standing in the doorway. This woman had been a friend and even a girlfriend at one time, but that wasn’t it.
Because Sarah was standing here, it meant he could go and check on Amy now, and that gave him a very pleasant sensation.
“It’s good to see you, Sarah,” he said.
He’d heard from Dunn that she didn’t have to work on this case, but she’d wanted to. McCann knew her well enough to know she’d only put herself in this position because she believed in his innocence.
“Thank you for what you’re doing,” he told her. He then turned to Bruce. “And I appreciate you being a voice of reason on my behalf this morning.”
Bruce nodded before getting to his feet. “I should leave you two alone for couple of minutes to—”
“That won’t be necessary,” McCann interrupted. “Actually, I was hoping to visit with Amy for a bit.”
The two investigators exchanged a look. “I don’t see a problem with it,” Sarah replied.
Dunn nodded.
Their response told McCann a lot about whether they considered him a suspect or not in this investigation. They clearly didn’t, or they wouldn’t be allowing him out of their sight.
He paused at the door. Sarah hadn’t moved. He’d known her a long time. Long enough to understand what she needed. What he’d failed to give her. Closure.
“Thank you for being here,” he said gently.
Her composure faltered slightly. He opened hi
s arm, and she hugged him. He held her against his chest for a long time.
“I’m glad you’re alive,” she said, pulling back and smiling. “Happy birthday, you old man.”
“The big 4-0,” he said. She wasn’t far behind him, but he didn’t think she needed a reminder.
“How does it feel?”
“The mileage I’ve put on over the past twenty hours or so is catching up to me. I could probably fall sleep standing up.”
“That goes for Amy, too,” she told him. “You’d better hurry if you want to catch her awake. Second door down, across the hall.”
That was all McCann needed to hear. He crossed to her door and knocked softly.
~~~~
Chapter 59
Branford, Connecticut
8:40 p.m.
The Beech 1900 twin engine aircraft never even cleared the line of trees. Mako figured the fuel tank would be blamed for the explosion that occurred immediately after takeoff. Later, the investigators wouldn’t worry too much about the possibility of foul play, not after the evidence began to mount that the victims of the plane crash were the same hijackers who’d squeezed America’s throat that very morning.
The headlines alone would be nearly enough to explain everything and close the case for the public, Mako thought. Eventually, they’d identify some of them. Home grown terrorists. Mercenaries. All the bodies were found. No survivors. The explosion had guaranteed that.
He was just crossing the moonlit field toward the woods when he heard the sound of sirens in the distance.
He wasn’t even pissed off. In fact, a great calm had settled over him. There was great comfort in knowing that he’d guessed right. He’d cheated death at the last minute. He could have saved the lives of the rest of his crew, he supposed. But in this kind of work, everyone was on his own.
