“How’s the book coming?”
“Getting there. I have all the information in line, finally. Four more chapters to write, and two I have to change around some, and it’s done.”
“What did you change?” “Turned out that I got bum data. You were right about that deck-spotting problem on the Japanese carriers.”
“I didn’t think that sounded right,” Robby replied. “They were pretty good, but they weren’t that good — I mean, we took ’em at Midway, didn’t we?”
“What about today?”
“The Russians? Hey, Jack, anybody wants to fool with me and my Tomcat better have his will fixed up. They don’t pay me to lose, son.” Jackson grinned like a sleepy lion.
“Nice to see such confidence.”
“There’s better pilots than me,” Robby admitted. “Three, as a matter of fact. Ask me again in a year, when I’m back in the groove.”
“Oh, yeah!” Jack laughed. The laugh died when he saw the picture on the TV screen. “That’s him — I wonder why –” He turned the sound up.
” . . . killed, including five police officers. An intensive land, sea, and air search is under way for the terrorists who snatched their convicted comrade while en route to a British prison on the Isle of Wight. Sean Miller was convicted only three weeks before in the daring attack on the Prince and Princess of Wales within sight of Buckingham Palace. Two police officers and one of the terrorists were killed before the attack was broken up by American tourist Jack Ryan of Annapolis, Maryland.”
The picture changed to show the weather on the Channel and a Royal Navy helicopter, evidently searching for something. It changed again to a file tape of Miller being taken out of the Old Bailey. Just before he was put in the police van. Miller turned to face the camera, and now weeks later his eyes stared again into those of John Patrick Ryan.
“Oh, my God . . .” Jack muttered.
Chapter 10
Plans and Threats
“You shouldn’t blame yourself, Jimmy,” Murray said. “And Bob’s going to make it. That’s something.”
“Certainly,” Owens replied sardonically. “There’s even a fifty-percent chance that he’ll learn to walk again. What of the others, Dan? Five good men gone, and four civilians along with them.”
“And maybe the terrorists, too,” Murray pointed out.
“You don’t believe that any more than I do!”
It had come as a piece of blind luck. A Royal Navy mine-hunter ship conducting an ongoing sonar survey of the English Channel had found a new object on the bottom and immediately sent a camera sled down to classify it. The videotape showed the remains of a ten-meter zodiac-type inflatable boat, with two hundred-horse outboard motors. It had clearly sunk as the result of an explosion near the gas tanks, but there was no evidence of the men who’d been aboard, or their weapons. The vessel’s skipper had immediately grasped the importance of the discovery and informed his superiors. A salvage crew was preparing now to go out and raise the wreck.
“It’s a possibility. One of them might have screwed up, the boat blew, the bad guys get dumped in the drink . . . ”
“And the bodies?”
“Fish food.” Murray smirked. “Makes a nice image, doesn’t it?”
“You are so fond of punting, Dan. Just what percentage of your salary would you wager on that hypothesis?” Owens wasn’t in the mood for humor. Murray could see that the head of C-13 still looked on this as a very personal defeat.
“Not very much,” the FBI representative conceded. “So you think a ship picked them up.”
“It’s the only thing that makes the least bit of sense. Nine merchant vessels were close enough to have been involved. We have the list.”
So did Murray. It had already been forwarded to Washington, where the FBI and CIA would both work on it. “But why not recover the boat, too?”
“Obvious, isn’t it? What if one of our helicopters saw them doing it? Or it might have been too difficult for the weather conditions. Or they might just not have wished to trouble themselves. They do have ample financial resources, don’t they?”
“When will the Navy raise the wreck?”
“If the weather holds, day after tomorrow,” Owens said. That was the one thing to be happy about. Then they’d have physical evidence. Everything made in the world carried trademarks and serial numbers. Somewhere there would be records of sale. That was how many successful investigations had started — a single sales slip in a single shop had often led to the conviction of the most dangerous criminals. From the videotape, the outboards on the boat looked like American Mercury motors. The Bureau had already been alerted to run that lead down as soon as the engine numbers were in. Murray had already learned that Mercury motors were a favorite all over the world. It would make matters harder, but it was still something; and something was always better than nothing. The resources of the Metropolitan Police and the Bureau were designed for precisely such a task.
“Any breaks on the leak?” Murray asked. This touched the rawest nerve of all.
“He’d better pray we don’t find him,” Owens said quietly. There was as yet no danger that this would happen. There had been a total of thirty-one people who’d known the time and route for the prisoner transfer, and five of them were dead — even the driver of the van hadn’t known beforehand. That left twenty-six, ranging from a few members of C-13, two more high officials in the Metropolitan Police, ten in the Home Office, a few more in MI-5, the Security Service, and various others. Every one of them had a top-drawer security clearance. Not that a clearance matters a damn, Owens told himself again. By definition a leak had to come from some bastard with a top-drawer clearance.
But this was different. This was treason — it was worse than treason — a concept that Owens hadn’t even thought possible until the last week. Whoever had leaked this had also to have been involved in the attack on the Royal Family. To betray national security secrets to a foreign power was sufficiently heinous to make the Commander think in unprofessional terms. But deliberately to endanger the Royal Family itself was so incomprehensible a crime that Owens had scarcely been able to believe it possible. This wasn’t someone of dubious mental state. This was a person with intelligence and considerable skill at dissimulation, someone who had betrayed a trust both personal and national. There had been a time in his country when such people died by torture. It was not a fact that Owens was proud of, but now he understood why it had happened, how easily one might countenance such punishment. The Royal Family served so many functions for the United Kingdom, was so greatly loved by the people. And someone, probably someone very close to them, was quite willing to betray them to a small band of terrorists. Owens wanted that person. Wanted to see him dead, wanted to watch him die. There could be no other punishment for this kind of crime.
His professionalism returned after the few seconds of grim revelry. We won’t find the bastard by wishing him dead. Finding him means police work — careful, painstaking, thorough investigation. Owens knew how to do that. Neither he nor the elite team of men on the investigation would rest until they succeeded. But none of them doubted that they would ultimately succeed.
“That’s two breaks you have, Jimmy,” Murray said after reading his friend’s mind. It wasn’t hard to do. Both men had handled hard cases, and police differ little over the world.
“Indeed,” Owens said, almost smiling. “They ought not to have tipped their hand. They should have bent every effort to protect their source. We can compare the lists of who knew that His Highness was coming in that afternoon, and who knew that young Mr. Miller was going to Lymington.”
“And the telephone operators who put the calls through,” Murray reminded him. “And the secretaries and co-workers who might have overheard, and the girlfriends, or boyfriends, who might have heard during some horizontal conversation.”
“Thank you ever so much for that, Dan. One needs encouragement at a time like this.” The Englishman walked over to Murray’s cabinet and found a bottle of whiskey — a Christmas present, still unopened on New Year’s Eve.
“You’re right that they should have protected their intel source. I know you’ll get him, Jimmy. I will put some money down on that.”
Owens poured the drinks. It was gratifying to see that the American had finally learned to drink his whiskey decently. In the past year Owens had broken Murray of the need to put ice in everything. It was shameful to contaminate single-malt Scotch whiskey. He frowned at another recurring thought. “What does that tell us about Sean Miller?”