David Baldacci - Simple Genius

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.

“So can I ask a stupid question,” Sean called out to Whitfield.

“You can ask,” Whitfield called back.

“Can you tell us why your little woman is trying to kill you and us?”

Whitfield navigated across a particularly difficult wave and barked, “She’s not my wife. She’s my boss.”

Sean gaped at him. “Your boss! What the hell are you talking about? I thought you were the head of Camp Peary?”

“You can think what you want,” Whitfield snapped.

“And you guys are into drug running?”

Whitfield said nothing.

Sean said, “And what about the Arabs on the plane?”

Whitfield shook his head. “Not going there.”

“And did Alicia kill Len Rivest?”

Silence.

Sean snapped, “The woman almost killed me, and would have except for you. Which is the only reason I’m not making a citizen’s arrest on your ass.”

“And Champ?” Michelle asked. “Does he work for CIA?”

Whitfield said, “Let’s just worry about surviving the next ten minutes.”

“They’re gaining,” Michelle cried out as she glanced behind them.

“Their engines are twice the size of mine,” Whitfield said over his shoulder as he braced himself. “Now hold on.”

“What the hell do you think we’ve been do-?” Sean couldn’t finish because Whitfield somehow managed to cut a ninety-degree turn in the water while going full throttle. Sean would’ve gone over the side if Michelle hadn’t clamped a hand on him as he slid by her. She had her legs scissored around Viggie just in case Horatio couldn’t hold her.

“Mick!” Viggie screamed out.

“I’ve got you, Viggie, you’re not going anywhere.”

Whitfield put on a burst of speed and the RIB shot toward the opposite shore, heading directly toward the inlet into Camp Peary. They zoomed past a gauntlet of lighted beacons five hundred yards from shore that warned of extreme danger for persons trespassing here, and Sean had every reason to believe they meant it. They next roared past two boats stationed at the entrance to the inlet. The men on board leveled weapons at them, including a rocket-propelled grenade launcher, but when they saw who it was, they lowered their ordnance and just stared with bewildered looks. Whitfield actually had the gall to salute them.

Whitfield cut the RIB to the left and then the right, seemingly avoiding invisible obstacles in the water while he kept glancing at a lighted screen on his console.

“They’re still gaining,” Michelle called out. Then she paled even more. “They’re going to fire a rocket,” she screamed. The man in the bow of the chase boat was indeed putting them in the crosshairs of his weapon.

Viggie yelled in terror.

Michelle barked, “Horatio, do not let her go!”

Whitfield eyed one spot in the water and seemed to be timing something. What he was timing was a wave. “Hold the hell on,” he roared.

Sean and Michelle dropped to the deck and held on to anything they could find, including each other.

THE RIB HIT THE WAVE, rode it straight up and went airborne, its twin props screaming as the water around them disappeared. Then the boat hit the surface of the inlet two feet farther down.

“Look out!” Valerie Messaline screamed from the chase boat. She had obviously realized what Whitfield had just done.

Michelle glanced back in time to see her dive off the boat along with a slew of others. The driver attempted to swerve around the place that Whitfield had managed to jump over, but it was too late. The boat hit the mine and exploded.

Whitfield immediately threw the RIB into a tight turn and shot back out of the inlet, passing Messaline and company as they struggled to get out of their body armor before it dragged them under.

“How the hell did you do that?” Sean asked in a stunned voice.

Whitfield tapped the screen in front of him. “It’s easy, when you know where the mines are laid. I had them change the position of one yesterday. I try to be prepared.”

The RIB roared back out on the York. None of them saw the missile launch from one of the patrol boats. It missed them but not by much. The RIB almost flipped over from the force of the explosion as the rocket hit the water ten yards away from them before Whitfield managed to get the boat back under control. The rain was coming down slantwise now, stinging their faces as Sean and Michelle slowly stood on trembling legs.

Michelle glanced around. “Viggie! Horatio!”

They looked behind them. In her life jacket Viggie was bobbing in the water already fifty yards away. To the left of her Horatio was sputtering and going under.

Michelle didn’t hesitate. She grabbed a preserver, dove off the boat and swam for Horatio. She didn’t see Sean dive off the other side of the boat and head to Viggie. Michelle reached Horatio and pushed the life preserver in his hands. “You’re okay, Horatio, just don’t panic. Can you make it to the boat while I go get Viggie?”

He nodded and Michelle headed off for Viggie. What she saw as she approached where Viggie had been struck her cold. The girl was being hauled into a boat driven by some of the men from Camp Peary. As Michelle strained to see through the rain and darkness, she saw another chilling spectacle. Two men on the boat were taking aim at Sean, who was still desperately trying to reach Viggie “No!” Michelle screamed, but she had nothing to hurt them with.

An instant later she heard the sound behind her. She swung back around and saw Whitfield’s boat coming at her fast. Horatio was already on board so Whitfield must have come back around and picked him up. As the boat drew nearer, Michelle saw Whitfield hand off the wheel to Horatio. Then the Camp Peary chief leaned over the side of the RIB and looped his leg through a bungee strap on the boat’s gunwale. He extended his hand. Michelle instantly knew what he was doing. She’d practiced this particular maneuver in a joint training session with the FBI while at the Secret Service. As the boat zoomed alongside her she reached up and grabbed Whitfield’s hand. The man placed an iron grip on her arm with his other hand and his strength and the speed of the boat yanked her right out of the water and onto the boat’s deck. She didn’t even bother thanking him. She rolled to her feet, grabbed a gun and pointed it at the other boat as they drew close.