"Will do," Stephanie said. "I'll log into the computers back in Virginia. From there I can tap into the White House and the NSA database. It shouldn't take long to find out everything about him."
Later, Selena was in her room. She lay on the narrow bed she shared with Nick, reading a dog eared paperback novel about pirates and Scotsmen she'd found in the main cabin. She across a sentence with the word ravish in it and smiled. Elizabeth knocked at the door.
"Busy?" Elizabeth said.
Selena sat up. "More like bored. Come on in."
Elizabeth entered the tiny room and sat down on one end of the bed.
"I can't stop thinking about the man I killed," Elizabeth said. "It was horrible, all that blood. Different from that man I shot in Virginia."
Selena marked the page and put the book down. "I can sympathize with how you feel," she said, "but that probably doesn't help very much."
"I remember when you came back from your first mission, you were different. I watched it all on the satellite. I saw you kill that soldier. How did you handle it, afterward?"
"Nick helped," Selena said. "He helped me see that I'd made the right choice, even though everything I'd been taught told me it was wrong. He didn't try to sugarcoat it, or come up with some platitude about defending our country, anything like that. He told me it would take time to let it in and that the best I could do was to try not to think about it and move on."
"Did it work?" Elizabeth asked. "Not thinking about it?"
Selena laughed. There was no humor in it. "No, not at all. I still think about it. But he was right about it being the right choice. Remembering that helps, that and knowing the person you killed didn't give you an option."
Elizabeth looked down at the floor.
"I was trying to reload," she said. "Emile was dead. The man I'd shot was lying on the ground with his head blown off and I couldn't get the shells into the gun. Then one of those men pointed his gun at me. I thought I was going to die. Then Nick or somebody shot him."
Selena laid a hand on Elizabeth's arm. "I shot him," she said. "Sometimes that's the only option. If you hadn't pulled the trigger on that shotgun, you'd be dead."
Elizabeth took a deep breath and let it out. "I know you're right. I guess I just needed to talk about it the someone."
"Just give it some time," Selena said. She didn't say that no matter how much time there was, it would never be enough to erase the memory.
CHAPTER 44
General Louis Westlake had become obsessed with the Project. There were factors that could disrupt any complex operation but the worst of those were rogue factors no one could predict. The Project was one of those. Their interference had screwed up the timing of his operation. It kept him awake at night.
The news from the Caribbean was bad. His assault team had disappeared. So had the Project. He'd sent another team that found the island deserted.
Where were they? The only way off the island was by air or by sea. They didn't have a plane, so they had to be somewhere on the water. There were too many boats out there to spot them from the satellites.
Sooner or later they'd have to land and when they did, he would find and eliminate them. At least they didn't know about Denver. That thought made Westlake feel better. He reached for the bottle of 25-year-old scotch next to his chair and poured himself another drink.
Anyway
, he thought,
soon it won't matter
. Once the Ajax operation began, things would have gone too far for Harker and her toy soldiers to make any difference.
Westlake's mood mellowed as the whiskey took affect. After all, the Project was only six people. Six people who thought they knew better than he did what the nation really needed. They were fools. They couldn't see the path to defeat Rice had laid out by negotiating with America's enemies. He thought of Rice. The President was getting stronger, but he hadn't resumed his duties yet. He never would.
When the transition period was over, there would be a different America. Those who accepted the New Order would find themselves rewarded. Those who resisted would be brought to heel, one way or another.
Westlake got up out of his chair and went to a file cabinet next to his desk, where a false front concealed a safe. He pulled the front open, entered the combination on an electronic keypad and opened the safe. He took out a flat, red notebook that contained a coded summary for deployment of Ajax and the strategy following the takeover.
As the day neared for Ajax to go operational, Westlake found himself taking out the book more often. He was looking for flaws, making sure that he had thought of everything.
Page 8, for example, listed the primary targets and the corresponding military units that would be sent in to restore order. The coordinates for each city were already entered into the computers. Ajax would activate receivers located in each city. The result would be chaos across the entire nation.
It's too bad so many people will die
. He dismissed the thought. Sacrifice was always necessary when great acts were played out on the world stage.
He looked at the list. As the riots spread across the country, the result would be terror and confusion across the nation.
The first targets were in the East. The list was like a mystical litany in his mind.
Philadelphia, Atlanta.
As the earth turned, new cities would come into range.
St. Louis, Kansas City.
The final targets were on the West Coast.
Seattle, San Francisco.
He'd considered adding Chicago and New York but had decided against it. Denver had been spared for obvious reasons. He would have liked to include the Capitol, but he needed to keep the infrastructure of government intact. It wouldn't do to have the mobs burn down the White House. As it was, major population centers would be devastated.
Homeland Security, the National Guard, and the regular troops would have their hands full. Rice would die, Edmonds would become President and then he'd panic. He'd be desperate for guidance and a clear strategy to deal with the situation. Westlake planned to be there to give it to him. New emergency regulations would be issued to control the populace. They would never be rescinded.
By the time anyone realized what had happened, it would be too late. If Edmonds presented a problem, he would be eliminated along with any other troublemakers. Westlake looked again at the list of cities, the road to power. He poured his third drink and took a long swallow of the golden liquor. It exploded with pleasant warmth in his stomach, like taking a drink of the sun.
Life was good.
CHAPTER 45
They passed Haiti on the sixth day. Cuba lay ahead off the port bow. They'd taken the shortest route home, with Cuba to the left and the chain of islands that included the Bahamas off to their right. But they had a problem.
"We have to get him to a hospital," Selena said.
They were talking about Lamont. His fever was worse. He was slipping in and out of awareness. The color had drained away from his chocolate skin. His eyes were taking on a yellowish tint.
"There are hospitals in Miami," Ronnie said.
"I don't think he'll last that long." Selena pushed away a wisp of hair from her forehead.
"There's nothing between here and Miami," Nick said.
"Yes there is."
They all turned to look at Elizabeth.
"Guantánamo isn't far from here. We can be there in a day. They have a hospital on the base."
"If we go to Guantánamo, they'll lock us up," Nick said.
"If we don't go to Guantánamo, Lamont will die," Elizabeth said.
"It could work to our advantage," Stephanie said. "If we can convince them not to hold us, we might be able to get an airlift back to the mainland."
"How do you plan to do that?" Nick asked. "Tell them we're the good guys and Edmonds is plotting to overthrow the government? That'll go over well."
"They won't believe anything we say," Elizabeth said. "Not without serious backup."
"Maybe we can get backup," Stephanie said.
"Who did you have in mind?" Elizabeth asked.
"Call Hood. They'll listen to him. Langley practically runs that place."
"I'm not sure how much he'll help us," Elizabeth said. "He's already poking his nose into the Pentagon. He'd be supporting us against the acting President. It would put his entire career on the line."
They could hear Lamont coughing in his cabin. There was something dark about the sound, something frightening.
"Listen to that," Stephanie said. "I don't think we have much of a choice."
"Give me the phone," Elizabeth said.
An hour later they had turned into the Windward Passage between Cuba and Haiti, headed for Guantánamo. Hood had agreed to clear them through. Once they got to the base, Lamont would be taken to the hospital. A plane would take the others back to the mainland.
"Hood is worried about unusual activity by Homeland Security," Elizabeth said.
"What kind of activity?" Nick asked.
"A nationwide joint exercise with the Army is planned for later this week. It's supposed to be an emergency preparedness exercise. Something to test our response in the event of terrorist attack."
"Yeah, right," Ronnie said.
"They're getting ready to deploy that weapon," Nick said, "and we're out here sailing around off Cuba."
"Maybe not for much longer," Selena said. She pointed at a low, gray shape coming fast across the water.
Nick looked grim. "That's a Cuban patrol boat. The Russians sold a few to Castro years ago. I thought they'd all been sunk or decommissioned."
"I guess not all of them," Ronnie said. They could see the Cuban flag flying from the stern of the vessel.
"We're still outside Cuba's territorial waters," Nick said. "They shouldn't be here."
"I don't think they care about that," Elizabeth said.
"Ronnie, come with me," Nick said. "We have to ditch the weapons before they get here."
They went below and took out the weapons and handed them up to Selena. She passed them to Elizabeth, who dropped them over the side. The last to go were their pistols.
They went up to the bridge to watch the Cuban vessel approach. The patrol boat was almost 200 feet long, gray and lethal. It bristled with weapons. There were deck guns fore and aft and antisubmarine missile launchers. The rail was lined with sailors armed with AK-47 carbines. As the vessel closed on them, an officer raised a bullhorn and shouted something.
"What did he say?" Nick turned to Selena. Selena spoke fluent Spanish.
"Classic," she said. "Heave to and prepare to be boarded."
"They got cutlasses, too?" Ronnie said.
Nick looked at him and shook his head. "Cut the engines," he said.
Ronnie throttled back to an idle. The
Island Angel
rode uneasily in the water, rocking in the waves.
"Selena," Nick said. "You do all the talking. See if you can talk us out of here."
She took a deep breath and went down to the main deck. A motor launch with six sailors and the officer put off from the patrol boat and came alongside. They scrambled on board, weapons at the ready. They didn't look friendly. Two of the sailors disappeared into the main cabin.
Nick watched from the bridge as Selena began speaking with the officer. It seemed to be going well. Then the Cuban began shouting at her. She backed up a step. Nick started down the steps toward them. The officer gave an order and the guns pointed toward him. The man said something. Nick didn't need to speak Spanish to know that he was being told to put his hands up.
"Selena," he said as he raised his hands. "What's happening?"
One of the sailors grasped Nick by the arm and pulled him off the steps. Another sailor went up to the bridge and prodded Ronnie and Elizabeth down with the barrel of his rifle. A sailor came out of the main cabin and said something to the officer. He had their passports in his hand.
The officer looked at the documents and then at Nick.
"Ustedes son espías norteamericanos. Si se resisten, se le disparó."
"What did he say?" Ronnie asked.
"He said we are American spies," Selena said. "If we resist, he'll shoot us. I think he means it."
"Yanquis!"
the officer said with contempt. He spat on the deck.
"En el barco."
He gestured at the motor launch.
"Into the boat," Selena said.
"What about Lamont?"
Selena fired off some rapid Spanish. The officer replied and gestured again.
"He says they will bring him aboard. Now, we must get in the boat."
"I'm not going without Lamont. Tell him that."
"I'm not sure that's a good idea," she said.
"Tell him anyway."
The officer was watching the exchange. Selena told him what Nick had said. His face got red and he shouted at one of the sailors. The man brought up the butt of his rifle and slammed Nick on the side of the head. Everything went dark.
The first thing Nick was aware of when he woke was pain. He was lying on something hard and cold. The floor vibrated under him. He opened his eyes and light speared his brain like a dagger. He drifted back into unconsciousness.
The next time he woke, Ronnie was sitting next to him. He could hear Lamont coughing.
"Welcome back, amigo," Ronnie said. "You had a nice nap."
"Yeah." Nick sat up. The room spun around him. There was a metal toilet bolted to the wall. He managed to reach it before he threw up. He retched and threw up again. He choked down the bile and caught his breath and waited for the dizziness to pass. He had the mother of all headaches. He wiped his sleeve across his lips.
"Take it easy," Ronnie said. "You took a hell of a hit. Probably got a concussion."
Nick leaned back against the wall next to the toilet "How long was I out?"
"Maybe an hour."
He looked around. The front of the cell was metal bars. The rest of the room was metal, painted flaking gray. There were no windows. A bare metal cot was bolted to the wall. Lamont lay on it, delirious.