No Way Out (39 page)

81

T
he right side of the plane dipped hard and the rotors skimmed the nearby CH-53. By design, the Osprey’s blade shredded into hundreds of spaghetti-like strands.

“Cut power!” Rodman said.

“Cutting power. Roger.”

As Uzi reached for the engine control switch, the fuel pressure zeroed out and the craft settled onto the tarmac like a sixteen-ton weight.

It hit hard and nearly bounced off the edge.

Upon impact—by design—the pilot seats “stroked,” or collapsed to the floor. Uzi and Rodman yanked off their restraints and pulled themselves up to reach the buttons on the dashboard.

“Brakes,” Rodman said. “Brakes!”

“Brakes. Roger.” Uzi drew the lever back and stopped the plane just short of rolling off the flight deck and into the ocean.

“Shutting down systems,” Rodman said as he jabbed his index finger at multiple buttons on the control panel.

Outside, the crash crew rushed the plane, securing it with chains and dousing it with A-Triple F.

Emergency lights whirred and the tarmac was a mass of activity.

Uzi and Rodman collapsed back into their seats and started laughing. Uzi reached over and slapped his pilot in the chest. “You did it, man. Congrats.”

“Welcome to the
New York
,” Dunbar said over the radio. “Ugliest goddamn landing I’ve ever seen.”

“Hey,” Vail said, coming up behind them. “Don’t listen to him. You got us home safely and we lived to tell about it. I thought it was
beautiful
.”

82

USS New York

Hospital Ward

North Atlantic Ocean/Celtic Sea

49.65° Longitude, -8.25° Latitude

H
ector DeSantos and Karen Vail were lying on Hill-Rom electric hospital beds, IV lines hooked up to their arms, despite their protestations. The suite was generous, with exposed ductwork and dozens of rows of neatly bundled cables snaking along the bulkheads and ceiling, as was common in most naval vessels.

At the far end of the room, above a freestanding Sanyo Biomedical freezer, was a flat screen television, images rolling by without sound.

The
New York
was a new ship with state-of-the-art equipment; what’s more, everywhere they had walked upon deplaning was obsessively clean and maintained with pride.

While Rodman went to the crew’s lounge, Uzi accompanied his friends to the hospital.

“The sleeping quarters are a bit tight,” he said as he took a seat on the edge of Vail’s bed. “You going to be able to handle that?”

Vail, who had used the remote to raise herself into a seated position once the corpsman had left the room, waved her free hand. “After climbing seventy feet in a tunnel about three feet wide, I think I’ll be able to manage it. I’m so exhausted, I’ll be asleep before I have a chance to think about it.”

“I’m tired just thinking about going to sleep,” DeSantos said.

“So.” Vail folded her arms in her lap. “We’ve done a good job avoiding the red elephant in the room.”

DeSantos laughed. “Again with the red elephant? If I didn’t know you any better, I’d think you’ve got an elephant fetish.”

Uzi looked around. “Red elephant?”

Vail play-slapped him. “What do you think they’re going to do with us? We only broke about nine million UK laws, killed an innocent man—an up-and-coming, well-liked politician, no less.”

“We haven’t been shackled and flogged yet,” Uzi said. “I take that as a good sign.”

“As well you should.”

The voice came from the doorway, where a suited FBI Director Douglas Knox stood, hands in his pockets, hair immaculately combed.

They all turned simultaneously.

Uzi rose and shook Knox’s hand. “Sir.”

Knox pursed his lips and made eye contact with each of them. “Let me be the first to commend you on an extremely difficult operation. Hector, Secretary McNamara’s been briefed.” He consulted his watch. “Right about now, he’s on the phone with the home secretary.”

Vail wanted to ask what this meant for all of them, but Knox anticipated the question.

“In the end, I think everything will settle down and this will all blow over.”

“Blow over,” Vail said. She looked at DeSantos and then Uzi, but neither was forthcoming with a comment. “Sir, I don’t think you know everything that’s happened, what we…everything we did.”

“I’ve been fully briefed by my counterpart. Director General Buck told me the bad as well as the good. And let me say this. Hector, if you ever stick a goddamn needle in me, no matter what the circumstances, so help me God—”

“Understood, sir.”

Knox let a smile flit across his lips. But it was as fleeting as it was noticeable. “I’m well aware that everything about this case was foreign to you, Agent Vail—and no doubt incredibly difficult. Covert ops work is…well, it takes a certain type to carry out these missions. And that’s why this was black. To allow you to do things that, well, ordinarily aren’t done by law-abiding law enforcement officers. As it turned out, the United Kingdom, and the United States, benefited from the actions the four of you took during this mission. And for that, I am personally and eternally grateful.” He cleared his throat. “That said, you will need to lie low for a while, until we can get all this sorted out.”

Vail sat up straight. “What about my ASAC?”

“I’ve already spoken with Thomas Gifford.”

“You have? He knows?’

“He knew you were working a case for me. That’s
all
he knows. That’s all he
can
know. Understood?”

“Yes sir.”

“Hector, you’ll explain the parameters to her? What she can and cannot disclose—and with whom?”

“I’ll take care of it.”

Knox nodded.

“So how is this being handled?” Vail asked. “Does the president talk to the prime minister? How do things get…excused—or explained?”

Knox chuckled sardonically. “The president and prime minister do not know the full story—nor will they. If we involve them, it could degenerate into a three ring circus. Congress and Parliament would get involved, years-long inquiries with task forces would be set up, the media would give it a good ride, and nothing would get resolved—certainly not the way we want it to be.

“This is the kind of thing that, without full disclosure and proper perspective, could irreparably damage US-UK relations. No, this is best handled quietly. The press will be fed a story. They may not like it and they won’t believe some of it. They won’t be able to verify a lot of it.”

“But the involved parties have a vested interest in keeping their traps shut,” Vail said.

“That’s the idea.”

“And,” DeSantos said, “if anyone does talk, there’ll be no proof to back it up.”

Knox looked around the room. “You have to realize what was at stake, Agent Vail. The entire UK intelligence apparatus was paralyzed. The country was in grave danger because they had to recall all their agents here and abroad. They were essentially blind to everything Rudenko’s crew was planning. You four stepped in and not only thwarted the attack but you identified the source of their leak, made it possible to restore a good number of their agents—and dealt a serious blow to one of the most notorious weapons traders and money launderers the world has known.”

“About that,” Vail said. She glanced at DeSantos, then said, “I believe I scr—”

“Hussein Rudenko is still at large,” DeSantos said. “He posed as an innocent party and we mistook his accomplice for him.”

“Mr. Buck just informed me,” Knox said.

Vail explained her theory regarding Rudenko and the Turner Gallery. Knox absorbed it and rocked back on his heels as he considered it. Finally he said, “I’m sure MI5 will put it all together. We’ll leave it to them to dot the I’s and cross the T’s. I think we’ve done our part.”

“But Rudenko’s in the wind,” Vail said.

“That he is, Agent Vail. But all’s not lost. We now know what he looks like. We’ve got photos and video footage of him. As we speak, those files are being distributed to Interpol and every other major metropolitan police force in the world. And we’ll soon have a complete DNA profile. It’s only a matter of time before we get him.”

“I’d sure like a piece of him.”
Did I say that out loud?

Knox stepped between their two beds and extended a hand to Vail. “Thank-you.”

“Agent Vail did extremely well,” DeSantos said. “We couldn’t have pulled it off without her. In fact, she saved my life.”

Knox lifted a brow and looked at DeSantos, who nodded. Knox turned back to Vail and tilted his chin back. Unless Vail was imagining it, his eyes seemed to convey newfound trust and respect. Having heard Uzi’s account of when he had “earned” that same look from Knox—which no doubt led to his being given this UK assignment—she was not sure this was a welcome development.

A Secret Service agent entered the room and whispered something in Knox’s ear.

“Fine,” Knox said, “Tell him I’ll be right there.”

As the agent left the room, Knox turned back to DeSantos.

“Hector.” He held DeSantos’s gaze a long moment, but no words were exchanged. He finally reached out and squeezed his shoulder. “Agent Uziel,” Knox said as he turned for the door. “With me. Now. For your debriefing.”

Uzi reached out and bumped fists with DeSantos, then gave Vail a wink. “Catch you in the morning—or, at this rate, the afternoon. I think we all need some shut-eye.”

They walked out, leaving Vail and DeSantos alone.

“How do you deal with things like this, Hector?” She knew that DeSantos would understand she was talking about Basil Walpole.

DeSantos sighed. “Honest answer or bullshit?”

Vail smirked.

“Right. I wouldn’t disrespect you with a bullshit answer.” He took a deep breath and looked down at his lap. “Despite what you think, Karen, I’m not a psychopath. It’s tearing me up inside. But what can I do? When I get home, one day when my guard’s down, it’ll hit me across the back of the head and I’ll self-medicate with booze and Xanax.” They both fell quiet a moment before he turned to her. “How are you going to handle it?”

“I’ll probably take a more traditional approach.”

“Counseling?”

“No, I think I’ll bottle it up, have nightmares, compensate, sublimate, and try to find meaning in the ‘greater good’ of what I did.”

“What
I
did, Karen. You didn’t kill him.”

Across the room on the television, a BBC early morning news report rolled footage of hazmat investigators sifting through the wreckage of a downed aircraft in a remote field.

DeSantos shook his head. “Wonder how the talking heads are going to explain a crashed crop duster that’s riddled with machine-gun rounds and a belly full of ricin powder.”

“Really.” Vail laughed. “I mean, how could something like that possibly happen?”

DeSantos pursed his lips. “Ever hear of don’t ask, don’t tell?”

“Of course,” Vail said. “That’s got nothing to do with this.”

“It’s my version. Don’t ask me, because if I tell you, I’d have to—”

“Kill me?”

DeSantos furrowed his brow but did not answer.

“You would, wouldn’t you?”

“Karen Vail, you’ve got a very active imagination. What makes you think I do shit like that?”

Acknowledgments

The research for
No Way Out
presented a challenge on many levels, not the least of which was its setting. Errors of fact are my own, though a few details were modified for specific reasons. I owe sincere thanks to all the experts and professionals who helped me bring
No Way Out
to life:

John Hudson
, graduate of the Shakespeare Institute at the University of Birmingham, and founder of the New York Shakespeare ensemble, the Dark Lady Players (
www.darkladyplayers.com
), for sharing his comprehensive analysis of Amelia Bassano Lanier, the Shakespearean plays, and authorship issues with me. John’s review of
No Way Out
’s “Shakespeare chapters” ensured that I didn’t muff his groundbreaking research.

Ingram Losner
and
Jane Willoughby
, for being my key UK consultants; their comprehensive background on England, its society, political pressures, phraseology, and English culture were invaluable, as was Ingram’s thorough review of the manuscript.

Mark Safarik
, supervisory special agent and senior FBI profiler with the FBI’s Behavioral Analysis Unit (ret.), for information regarding threat assessment as well as his contacts within New Scotland Yard, the Madrid police department, British law enforcement, and Interpol. Thanks, as usual, for his review of the manuscript.

Jason Rubin
, captain, United States Marine Corps. I cherish experts who are outside-the-box thinkers. Jason is that, and more. What started as a casual conversation at a fraternity convention about the Marines and their various jets and helicopters turned into an in-depth primer on the Osprey, which is a cool plane, not to mention an amazingly complex aerospace machine. Jason is now an instructor pilot, and when I told him how I wanted the scene to unfold, what it needed to accomplish—and that it had to be accurate—he kind of laughed. His expression said, “Is that all?” Over a period of months, our brainstorming discussions led to the awesome scene in
No Way Out
. Any questions, look it up in the Osprey flight manual!

Steve Garrett
, US Navy hospital corpsman senior chief (Diver/Free Fall Parachutist/Fleet Marine Force)—or in military parlance: HMCS (DV/FPJ/FMF) (ret.), for his thorough review of the manuscript and for correcting my Special Operations Forces terminology and procedures, secure communications, and the like.

Kevin Kelm
, resident agent in charge, Bureau of Alcohol, Tobacco, Firearms, and Explosives and supervisory special agent, Arson and Bombing Investigative Services Subunit at the FBI’s Behavioral Analysis Unit (ret.). Kevin is a walking encyclopedia on bomb-related information and bomber profiling. I also valued his London stories of working with Scotland Yard. Thanks as well to
Ron Tunkel
, supervisory Special Agent, Bureau of Alcohol, Tobacco, Firearms, and Explosives, at the FBI’s Behavioral Analysis Unit.

The unnamed
New Scotland Yard detective chief superintendents
and
detective chief inspectors
who spent a great deal of face time with me. They gave me invaluable background information on crime in London, general police procedure, gun laws, and political issues facing the UK, as well as tours of their facilities. Since UK policing is so different from that in the US, their candor, insight, and stories gave me an important window into how it’s done across the pond. They preferred to remain anonymous.

Mary Ellen O’Toole
, supervisory special agent and senior FBI profiler with the FBI’s Behavioral Analysis Unit (ret.), for her assistance with, and information on, threat assessment.

Bill Urban
, commander, United States Navy, Naval Surface Force Atlantic, for reviewing the pertinent USS
New York
chapters for accuracy—and his invaluable input and suggested changes.
Callie Ferrari
, lieutenant, United States Navy Office of Information East, for her assistance (and persistence!) in obtaining clearance for me through the Navy’s chief of information.

Tomás Palmer
, cryptographer, for his time, expertise, and patience in helping me understand the CLAIR technology and the paths Uzi needed to take to find the answers. Tomás, you may recall, helped me with similar aspects relative to technogeekery in
Crush
. As Tomás said, “What would Karen Vail do without me?” Indeed!

James Alvarez, PhD
, international hostage negotiator and police psychologist for Scotland Yard and the NYPD, for his counsel regarding the cultural personality differences between American and British societies. It was a “lightbulb moment” for me.

Peter Clarke
, former deputy commissioner at Scotland Yard; and both
Tom Neer
, supervisory special agent and senior FBI profiler, Behavioral Analysis Unit–Counterterrorism (ret.) and
Stephen White
, chief constable Northern Ireland, for connecting me with Peter.

Colin Bexley
, a senior executive in the UK National Health Service, for deftly answering my sensitive questions regarding the service’s databases and how information is maintained.

Steve McEvoy,
US Air Force first sergeant (E-7, retired), for vetting my Mildenhall scenes for accuracy.
Paul Ortega
, AT&T Senior Emerging Technology Manager,
for reviewing my terminology regarding wireless technology.
Steve Evans
, tour guide extraordinaire. I told him what I was looking for, and he turned me onto the secret MI5 disused Underground facility and the Royal Mail Railway.

Ann Hamilton
and
Miriam Rose
, for their background on “must-visit” non-touristy places relative to my story outline and for answering miscellaneous England-related questions before I ventured across the pond.

Davina Fankhauser
, president and co-founder, Fertility Within Reach (
www.fertilitywithinreach.org
), for assisting me with obtaining information regarding DNA familial probabilities;
Selwyn Oskowitz, MD
, reproductive endocrinologist, for connecting me with
Marcus Hughes,
MD, Ph.D., professor of genetics, pathology and medicine, Genesis Genetics Institute.
Maury Gloster
, MD, for assistance with the medical scenario involving Vail’s and DeSantos’s hypoxic episode.

My London family,
Geoff
and
Val Bard
;
Caroline
Rabin
and
Steven Green
; Geoff and Val threw my life upside down when they said, “Get to London before the end of October because the weather turns awful and it’s dark by 4:30, which’ll really shorten your research days.” Within three weeks, we built a trip, scheduled hotels, booked flights, and landed at Heathrow. Steven and Caroline gave us a car tour of London, including the American Embassy, which helped me gain a feel for the city.

Corey Jacobson
for his review of portions of the manuscript for the accuracy of Madrid geography, London landmarks, British language nuances, and British politics.
Ilanit Sisso
for the Spanish translations in the Madrid chapters;
Lauren Dellar
for arranging for the Arabic translations.
Matthew Jacobson
for his naval primer and research relative to carrier and amphibious landing vessels.
Jeff Jacobson
, for his input and review of the manuscript.

Kevin Smith
, my editor. The beauty of having collaborated on six books is that we work so well together that we’re like—pick your simile—a well-oiled machine? A symphony? Well, it may not be that graceful, but Kevin knows how to coax those final ounces of polish out of the tube.

Chrisona Schmidt
, my copyeditor, for her vitally important role in ensuring the quality of the final finished product.
C. J. Snow
, proofreader extraordinaire, for his usual fine job as my last line of editorial defense.

The terrific, hardworking crew at Premier Digital Publishing:
Thomas Ellsworth, Hutch Morton, Julie Morales
,
and
Ryan Shaw
. You are my army in battle, and it’s fun going to war with you.

My hardcover publishers,
Virginia Lenneville
and
John Hutchinson
, at Norwood Press. They’re not just the best publishers an author could ever hope to write for, but they’re special people, too.

My agents,
Joel Gotler
and
Frank Curtis
. Joel works tirelessly behind the scenes to make sure my works are well-represented around the world, as well as in Hollywood. Frank is one of the finest entertainment law attorneys I’ve ever worked with, and his guidance and advice have proven essential to how I write my novels.

Roger Cooper
, former publisher of Vanguard Press, Perseus Books Group. Several years ago, Roger had the sagacity to convince me to turn Karen Vail into a series character. That was never my intent. Without Roger, the adventures I’ve had so much fun writing—and you’ve had so much fun reading—might never have occurred.

My fans and readers
. Receiving an email, tweet, or a Facebook post telling me how much you’ve enjoyed my novels brightens my day. Without you, my efforts would feel hollow because there wouldn’t be anyone to share my stories and characters with. I’d also like to give a special shout-out to the two administrators of the Fans of Alan Jacobson Facebook fan group (
www.FansOfAlanJacobson.com
),
Terri Landreth
and
Sandy Soreano
. You two do an awesome job! I love your enthusiasm.

Last, though it really should be first: my wife,
Jill
, is my front line editor, finding those things that somehow escape my eyes and sensibilities. Much more than that, however, all authors know that it takes a significant other with a strong constitution to keep the ship on course. For the past twenty-five years, Jill has helped me navigate the choppy waters with aplomb, keeping the bow pointed in the right direction. Unlike the Osprey, our tank will never run dry.