“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 sonofabitch.”

“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 soared 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 bounc-ing 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.