David Baldacci - Simple Genius

Michelle knew Viggie was on board so she couldn’t fire directly at them, but she did manage to place five shots in such a compact manner that the gunmen ducked down and gave Sean a chance to escape.

“Get close and we’ll grab him,” Michelle yelled.

“I don’t think I can do this,” Horatio called out from the helm.

Michelle slid over to the wheel while Whitfield lay across the gunwale again. As the RIB swooped by Sean was whisked into the boat.

“Hit it!” Whitfield screamed.

“What about Viggie!” Michelle screamed back.

“Hit it or we all die!”

Michelle slammed the throttle forward and the RIB shot ahead so fast Horatio and Sean almost fell overboard.

Michelle yelled over the howls of the storm, “We’re going to round up an army and then we’re going back across that fucking river and we’re getting Viggie back.”

She ran the RIB up on the shore on the other side of the York. They jumped off the boat and raced toward the entrance to Babbage Town. On the way, Sean stopped and retrieved his bag that he’d hidden behind a bush.

The caravan of Suburbans was parked at the entrance and Michelle led the way single file toward them. As soon as they showed themselves they were surrounded by agents. Merkle Hayes stepped forward. He wasn’t wearing a police uniform. He had on a blue windbreaker with the letters “DEA” stenciled on it. Agent Ventris was right next to him.

Sean stared at him. “DEA?”

“It’s a long story,” Hayes said.

“Have you rounded them up?” Michelle asked.

“Who?” Ventris said angrily. “There’s nobody here except a few guards.”

“The place was swarming with CIA guys in body armor,” Sean said.

“Well, they’re not here now.”

“We just had a gun battle on the river. They fired a rocket at us. Are you telling me you guys heard none of it?” Michelle asked incredulously.

Hayes said, “A siren’s been going off just about the whole time we’ve been here. We just got the damn thing turned off. So with that and the storm we haven’t heard anything.”

“Did you at least find the plane at the private strip filled with drugs?” Michelle asked.

Hayes shook his head. “There was no plane and no Champ Pollion when my men got there.”

“So-what drugs?” Ventris asked.

In answer Michelle reached in her pocket and pulled out the wet Baggie.

“These. There was at least a ton of it on Champ’s plane. Heroin.”

Hayes took the bag and looked at it. “And where’d it come from?”

Sean pointed across the river. “From over there. At Camp Peary.”

At that instant a fireball raced into the sky. It was clearly coming from the other side of the York.

Everyone turned their attention to the sight.

“What the hell is that?” Ventris yelled.

“Oh, shit!” Michelle exclaimed. “That plane I heard going over earlier. I bet that was Champ’s plane. He must’ve escaped and flew it to Camp Peary with the drugs. They just blew it up to get rid of the evidence.”

“So you’re saying those drugs really came from Camp Peary?” Hayes said while nervously eying Ventris.

“Tell them, Whitfield,” Sean said.

Only Whitfield wasn’t there.

“Where the hell did he go?” Sean said.

Michelle said, “Sean, I don’t think he followed us out of the woods.”

“Ian Whitfield was with us. He saved my life.”

“It’s true,” Michelle said and Horatio nodded in agreement.

“Dammit, you have to believe us,” Sean said.

“We want to,” Hayes said quietly.

“Hold on!” Sean shouted, pulling the video camera out of his backpack. “Look at this.” He ran the tape for them, pointing out the plane, the Arabs, Valerie Messaline, and the bales being off-loaded.

Ventris said, “This footage is of Camp Peary. How the hell did you get it?”

“We’re going to have to have some amnesty on that,” Sean said uneasily.

Michelle pushed past Sean so she was directly in front of Ventris. “Listen to me,” Michelle snapped. “They have kidnapped Viggie Turing. They took her in one of the boats and they’re probably on their way back to Camp Peary.”

“You saw this?” Hayes said quickly.

“Yes!” Michelle screamed. She grabbed Ventris’s jacket. “Kidnapped. Remember the FBI’s specialty? So let’s get going.”

Hayes said, “We can’t just storm into Camp Peary for God’s sake. We at least need a warrant.”

“Then dammit get one. You’re the local sheriff, Hayes!”

He sighed and said, “No, I’m not, I am with DEA. For the last two years Mike’s been working a joint task force with us. I was just planted here as the local sheriff.”

Michelle said, “Why here?”

“Because there have been a lot of drugs pouring into the East Coast. We narrowed it down to this area,” Ventris interjected. “We thought the source was Babbage Town, but we didn’t know how they were getting them into the country. We thought they were coming in by boat.”

“You must have known Champ had a plane,” Sean pointed out.

“We did. But that Cessna didn’t have the range to bring in shipments from out of the country. We wanted the source of the stuff,” Hayes said.

“We never suspected the CIA flights. They’re a government agency,” Ventris added, looking nervous.

Michelle snatched the tape from Sean and stuffed it into Ventris’s hands. “Here’s your damn proof. Now stop jawing about shit that doesn’t matter, file for a warrant and take a frigging battalion of cops across the river before something happens to Viggie. Because I swear to God if they hurt her while you’re standing here pissing around, I will hunt you down and kick the living shit out of you.”

Without hesitation Ventris said curtly, “Let’s go.”

Hayes said, “Mike, it’s the damn CIA.”

“All we can do is try.”

IT TOOK SOME TIME to get a warrant at that hour, and the judge who granted it didn’t seem at all pleased about having authorized a search of Camp Peary. Yet the videotape and the testimony of Sean, Michelle and Horatio carried the day. Still, dawn was breaking as the line of Suburbans pulled to a stop in front of the entrance to the CIA’s facility and Ventris and Hayes led two dozen federal lawmen and Sean and Michelle toward the guardhouses.

At Sean’s insistence Horatio Barnes had been escorted back to northern Virginia by a pair of DEA agents to nurse his strained back, saturated lungs and a severely stressed nervous system. Sean had given him the copy of the video stick showing the plane, Arabs and drugs from Camp Peary with instructions for Horatio to make additional copies of it and to put them in separate safety-deposit boxes.

Ventris held up the warrant and his creds as three armed guards from the front gate approached him.

“You’d better get one of your superiors out here, gents,” Hayes said, flashing his badge as well.

The guard said in a crisp professional tone, “Actually, sir, your superiors are here.”

Two other men came out from the guard building. One wore a suit; the other was dressed in khakis with a blue DEA windbreaker.

Sean’s heart sank as he saw Ventris and Hayes stiffen. The man in the suit said, “Agent Ventris, give me the warrant.”

Ventris said, “But sir, I-”

“Now!”

Ventris handed it over. The man looked at it and then tore the paper up.

The man in the DEA jacket said to Hayes, “Now give me the video that was shot.”

“How’d you know about that?” Hayes asked.

“You showed it to the judge to get the warrant. Now give it to me.”

Hayes pulled the video from his pocket and gave it to his boss, who in turn gave it to one of the Camp Peary guards.