The Tears of Dark Water (60 page)

“An opening to do what?”

“To contain them. That was the only way we could control the outcome.”

Barrington held out his hands. “As you understood it, what was the Navy’s end game?”

Derrick glanced at Vanessa again. He saw the pain written in the lines of her face, in the stiffness of her jaw, and the rigidity of her frame. He held her eyes just long enough to reflect her sorrow. “Our mission was to obtain the safe release of the hostages. But we were under orders to capture the pirates before they reached Somalia. To accomplish both objectives, we had to give Ibrahim and his crew the impression that we were going to let them get away with the money. Ibrahim gave us an opportunity. He asked for a boat from the
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to use as a getaway vehicle. We agreed, but we wired the engine to malfunction after a couple of miles. The Navy’s plan was to let the pirates take the money in the sabotaged boat and capture them as soon as the engine died.”

Over the next few minutes, Barrington led Derrick through the ransom drop and the breakdown in negotiations—the mistrust engendered by the helicopter and the ship’s proximity to the sailboat. The prosecutor steered him away from his disputes with Redman and limited his questions to what Ismail said and did. He played the recording of Ismail shouting, “
Back off or we will eat them like meat!
” twice for the benefit of the jurors.

“After he said that, did you talk to him again?” Barrington inquired.

Derrick looked at Ismail. The young Somali was regarding him impassively. “No,” he replied.

“Please describe for the jury what you observed over the next few minutes,” Barrington said, injecting gravity into his voice.

Derrick steeled his heart against the memories. “When the pirates refused to release the hostages, the SEAL commander executed a backup plan that involved surface and subsurface units. The idea was to disable the sailboat’s propeller, hitch a tow cable to the keel, and surround the pirates with enough firepower to convince them that they couldn’t reneg on the deal. The SEAL boat team did exactly what it was supposed to do.” He glanced at Vanessa and saw the tears in her eyes. “When they turned on their lights, that’s when the shooting started.”

“What exactly did you hear and see?” Barrington asked quietly.

“I heard three separate bursts of gunfire. I tried to call the
Renaissance
on the sat phone, but no one answered.” He paused. “Then I saw the pirates emerge from the sailboat carrying their guns and a briefcase. They tried to flee in the Navy’s small boat. Two SEAL boats went after them and the other one went to the
Renaissance
. The SEALs boarded the sailboat and entered the cabin. Then one of them came back out and yelled: ‘Cas-evac. Hostages are down.’”

Barrington fixed his eyes on the jury. “Thank you, Agent Derrick. That’s all I have.”

After a brief recess, Derrick took the stand again, this time answering questions from Kiley Frost. Megan had given him notice that her associate would cross-examine him to avoid the appearance of impropriety. She had also warned him that Kiley was brilliant and relentless. In a way, he was looking forward to the interrogation. It would give him the chance to speak his mind.

Kiley smiled at the jury and then focused on him. “Good morning, Agent Derrick.”

“Morning,” he said, folding his hands in his lap.

“You said that the Navy was under orders not to permit the pirates to reach the Somali coast. Where did those orders come from?”

Although Kiley’s tone was light, Derrick heard the barb below the surface. “I learned about them from the SEAL commander. I assume they came from somewhere above him.”

“Were those orders ever confirmed by anyone with ultimate authority?”

Derrick narrowed his eyes. Eldridge Jordan had briefed him on the national-security constraints on his testimony. He couldn’t disclose the names of anyone in the SEAL unit or anyone in the military or civilian hierarchy beyond the sailors on the
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. “They were confirmed by the White House in a teleconference,” he answered and heard one of the jurors gasp.

Kiley nodded. “Earlier, you described for the jury the government’s policy about paying ransoms to hostage takers. Do you agree with it?”

Clyde Barrington stood up quickly. “Objection to relevance, Your Honor.”

“Sustained,” Judge McKenzie replied. She looked at Kiley over her glasses. “Ms. Frost, the witness’s
opinion
about the government’s policy is immaterial to the charges at issue in this case.”

“I understand, Your Honor,” said the defense attorney. She tried another tack. “Leaving aside the policy, did you agree with the orders you received?”

“Objection,” Barrington interrupted. “Relevance.”

When the judge pondered this, Kiley jumped in: “Your Honor, the witness has already testified that he lied to the defendant about the government’s intentions because of these orders. The jury has a right to know whether he was comfortable with the position the government put him in.”

Barrington looked frustrated. “Your Honor, Ms. Frost is arguing her case.”

At last, Judge McKenzie said: “I’m going to sustain the objection with respect to the question at hand. What the witness
felt
about the orders is outside the scope of direct examination. But the orders themselves were put at issue. If the question is phrased correctly, I’ll allow it.”

With this latitude, Kiley tried a third time. “Agent Derrick, as a negotiator, is it a common tactic for you to lie to a hostage taker about the government’s intentions?”

Derrick gave his answer to the jury: “In a barricade scenario where we have tactical units moving around, we prevaricate all the time about what the units are up to. We don’t want the hostage takers to know our strategy if we have to mount a rescue mission. But when it comes to the terms of a bargain, I’ve never had to make a promise I didn’t intend to keep. This was the first time.”

“Did you ever question those orders?” Kiley asked.

Derrick shook his head. “It would have accomplished nothing.”

“Did you ever question any orders you received prior to the shooting?”

“Yes,” Derrick said, glancing at Vanessa. It was probably wishful thinking, but he thought he saw her face soften.

“Let’s set that aside for the moment,” Kiley said. “We’ll return to it later. You said your mission was to secure the safe release of the hostages, isn’t that correct?”

“Yes. That was the preeminent objective.”

Kiley crossed her arms over her chest. “Isn’t it true that the orders you were under to prevent the pirates from reaching land were in direct conflict with that objective?”

“Objection,” said Barrington. “She’s asking for an opinion.”

“Sustained,” the judge intoned.

Kiley shrugged. “Have you ever heard of Paul and Rachel Chandler?”

Derrick nodded, intuiting what she was trying to do. “They were British sailors hijacked by Somali pirates back in 2009. The pirates took them ashore and held them for over a year before their family paid a ransom and negotiated their release.”

“Were you aware that a British warship was present when the pirates transferred the Chandlers from their sailboat to a cargo ship under their control?”

“Yes,” Derrick said, giving her the answer she wanted. “The warship didn’t intervene. They were afraid that any action on their part would endanger the lives of the hostages.”

Kiley smiled thinly. “During the course of the negotiations, did it ever occur to you that the Navy’s aggressive approach might endanger Daniel and Quentin Parker?”

“It did,” Derrick admitted, once again looking at Vanessa.

Kiley gave him a hard look. “In fact, you had multiple confrontations with the SEAL commander about this precise issue, isn’t that correct?”

Derrick chose his words cautiously. “We had some differences of opinion. It was a tense scene. I gave him my advice, and he made his decisions. But our goal was the same—to rescue the hostages.”

“Of course,” Kiley said dismissively. “But that didn’t happen, did it?”

“No,” Derrick said softly.

“Isn’t it true that the SEAL commander believed Ismail was being disingenuous in negotiating with the Parker family, and you disagreed with him?”

“He didn’t trust Ismail’s intentions,” Derrick replied. “I did.”

“But Ismail
did
negotiate a ransom,” Kiley said. “He
wasn’t
just stalling for time.”

Derrick returned her stare. “I don’t pretend to know what Ismail was thinking, but he did what he said he was going to do.”

“So on this point you were right and the SEAL commander was wrong.”

Derrick put his response delicately. “I think the circumstances speak for themselves.”

“Indeed.” Kiley moved back to the podium. “You talked earlier about the two events that precipitated the breakdown in negotiations—the helicopter and the position of the
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. Ismail was right when he accused the Navy of moving the ship closer, wasn’t he?”

“Yes,” Derrick admitted.

“Again, you disagreed with the SEAL commander, didn’t you?”

“I advised him against it.”

Kiley moved toward the jury box. “When Ismail accused the Navy of breaking its word, what advice did you give the SEAL commander?”

Derrick remembered the fear that had gripped him in those moments, the sense that he had to convince Redman to make a concession to save Daniel and Quentin. “I advised him to move the ship in exchange for the release of Quentin Parker. He agreed to do it.”

“Yes, we heard that on the recording,” Kiley said. “But what advice did you give him after Ismail declined to release Quentin?”

Derrick focused on Vanessa at the rear of the gallery. She was sitting primly, her eyes wide and lugubrious. She had asked him on numerous occasions to tell her what happened at the end, but he had been hamstrung by his professional obligations. When he spoke now, he spoke to her and felt the ache of her broken heart. “I advised him to move the ship. I felt the hostages were in imminent danger.”

Kiley moderated her tone until it sounded almost gentle. “But he didn’t move the ship, did he?”

“No, he did not.”

Kiley smiled at Derrick with her eyes. “Thank you. I have nothing further.”

When Derrick left the stand, he was emotionally spent, as if he had just summited a mountain after a punishing climb. But he felt no sense of relief or accomplishment, only sadness. He looked into Megan’s eyes and saw the apology in them, but she had done nothing wrong, only what he had asked her to do. He walked down the aisle, ignoring the gazes of the journalists who had stopped their scribbling to watch him go, and turning his head only once—to nod at Vanessa.

The hall outside the courtroom was empty, except for a middle-aged man in Navy blues. Derrick was astonished. It was Gabriel Masters.

He offered his hand. “Paul, it’s good to see you again.”

“Likewise,” Derrick said. “Were you in there? I didn’t notice you.”

“I was discreet,” Masters replied. “And you were preoccupied. I want to thank you for bypassing all the party-line bullshit. It took a weight off my shoulders.”

You circumscribed your own testimony
, Derrick inferred.
You toed the line for Redman’s sake
. “You’re welcome,” he said. “Are you still on the
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?”

Masters shook his head. “We finished our tour last month. I’ve been reassigned to the Pentagon. Joint Chiefs.”

Derrick grinned. “Congratulations. I hope you get a star out of it.”

“There’s another reason I came,” Masters said. “I wanted to say, for the record, that you were right. I knew it when it was happening, but there wasn’t a damn thing I could do. Frank’s a good man. His heart was in the right place. But he should have listened to you.”

Derrick was deeply moved. He realized then that Masters had walked through the fire and emerged with the same scars. “We did what we could,” he said. “It’s a burden we have to bear.”

Masters nodded with feeling, then handed Derrick his card. “Give me a call sometime. We’ll grab a beer and talk about something more enjoyable. Do you have kids?”

Derrick shook his head.

Masters grinned. “There’s always time.”

Derrick put the card in his pocket and watched the captain walk toward the elevator bank. He was completely unprepared for the soft voice he heard behind him: “Paul.”

He turned around and saw Vanessa there, standing awkwardly like a schoolgirl meeting a boy in the hallway. She was beautiful, he admitted to himself—like the violin she played, fragile and exquisite. He smiled and saw her relax.

“Will you walk with me?” she asked. “It’ll only take a minute.”

“Of course,” he said, and followed her down a corridor to a window overlooking the city. The summer sky was pale blue and blanketed by haze.

She gazed into his eyes with an intimacy that concealed none of her emotions. “Whatever happened out there, I don’t blame you for it. Neither does Quentin.”