America

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

Written on the hulls of the hydrofoils in large black letters was "U.S. Navy." Jake Grafton had never been so glad to see anything in his life. One of the boats settled into the water upwind of him. As the marines on deck lowered a rope ladder over the side, a man wearing a wet suit leaped into the ocean to help him.

Climbing the rope ladder took all the strength he had. Jake clambered over the rail, puking seawater. Toad Tarkington was the first person he saw — the Toadman was grinning as if his face would split. He grabbed Jake and collapsed with him in a heap on the deck as Jake continued to retch.

Lying in the open sea, the hydrofoil wallowed and pitched in the swells. After what Jake had been through, the corkscrewing deck and salty sea breeze felt absolutely terrific. He wanted to hug Toad, but as his stomach did somersaults the best he could manage was a death grip on his leg.

"Don't ever scare me like that again, boss. I don't know if my heart can take it. When I realized you hadn't made it out, the big Uh-Oh got loose and started chewing on my ass."

Toad wrapped him in a blanket while Jake vomited the last of the seawater.

When he could finally sit up, Jake saw that Tommy Carmellini and Sonny Killbuck had Zelda stretched out on the deck. They had stripped her to her panties and were slapping fresh bandages on every wound. The marines in helmets and combat gear hunkered nearby pretended to look the other way.

By the time Jake could stand, the hydrofoil crew had her in the only bunk. The corpsman wrapped her in blankets and plugged in an IV.

"How's she doing?" Jake asked Carmellini when he came back on deck.

"I dunno," the CIA officer said. "She's lost a lot of blood. In shock, I guess." He examined the place on Jake's arm where Heydrich's ax had taken off a small hunk of hide, smeared it with antiseptic, and put a bandage on. When he was finished with that he slapped Jake Grafton on the back.

"Risking your life to save those pirates wasn't the smartest thing I've ever seen done, but I'd like to shake your hand."

"I wasn't trying to save anyone but little ol' me," Jake protested. "I was trying desperately to get myself through that hatch. I felt like a salmon swimming up a fire hose."

"Right! Just what I expected you to say." Carmellini pumped Jake's hand, gave him a hug, then looked a little embarrassed. "I'm just glad I know you."

When he got his legs under him, Jake went to the hydrofoil's wheelhouse, a tiny bridge, and talked to the captain, a master chief petty officer. "Your foil is sure a pretty sight."

"We were waiting for that beacon, Admiral. When the P-3 picked it up, we mounted up and headed out. I'm telling you, I was the most surprised man on Earth when that submarine surfaced and people started bailing out."

"The beacon was in a backpack," Jake explained. "Saltwater activated. I tossed it over the side of Sea Wind but wasn't sure enough water would get to it to activate it."

"Worked great," the master chief assured him. "We've been on the radio to Sea Wind. Apparently there was an altercation aboard after you left, and something happened to Schlegel. General Le Beau is on the bridge now with the captain, who says he just follows orders."

"Callie Grafton? My wife? Is she okay?"

"Fine, sir, according to General Le Beau. He said everything is under control aboard Sea Wind. He ordered us back to Rota."

"You're sure you were talking to General Le Beau?"

The master chief had close-cropped gray hair and a tanned, lined face. "Yes, sir," he said. "The general is pretty salty."

"So something happened to Schlegel, eh?" Jake had thought that something probably would. Flap Le Beau was crawling through the jungle slitting throats while Willi Schlegel was playing with dueling swords in college. Welcome to the major leagues, fella.

Soon he was on the radio to Flap. Sea Wind was not in sight.

"Tell Callie I'm all right," he said.

"Things are under control here," the general boomed. "Schlegel is technically missing, deceased I think. Captain Janvier has decided to proceed to the Madeiras. We've been talking to the authorities on the radio. A delegation of officials will meet us there."

When Jake's turn to talk came, he said, "I suggest you find a reason to have Peter Kerr arrested and sent back to the States. He's aboard someplace. Maybe under a false name and passport."

"The missing NASA guy? I can do that. Oh, I talked to Callie, Rita, and Corina a few minutes ago, told them you guys had been pulled out of the drink."

"Where is she now?" Jake asked, meaning Callie.

"Uh, they went to breakfast. Callie hoped you'd meet her in Las Palmas for the rest of the cruise. She said since the cruise is paid for…"

That was when Jake realized the crisis was really over. Callie didn't want to go back to candles and canned food in a powerless flat in Rosslyn. And he didn't blame her. In his mind's eye he saw her as she must have looked when she broke the news to Flap Le Beau, and laughed aloud. Then he couldn't stop. Callie was what he had to go home to. Schlegel and Jouany — they weren't rich. Oh, they had money, but they weren't rich\ He was! He laughed so hard he had to sit.

When he finally calmed down a sailor brought him a cup of coffee and a sandwich that had been brought aboard the hydrofoil that morning. He had to hold on to the coffee with both hands, the boat was rolling so badly. He managed to get a sip, wolfed down the sandwich, and felt better.

The master chief wanted to talk. "I don't want to leave this area until I'm sure there are no more survivors." He told Jake how many people the hydrofoil crews had pulled from the water, even passed him a list of names. Only three of the pirates had been rescued. Kolnikov and Turchak weren't on the list.

"How deep is the water?"

"The depth is marked on the chart, sir, as seventy-nine hundred feet."

Just then two F/A-18s flew slowly overhead. They were about a thousand feet in the air, loafing along.

When the sound of their engines faded, Jake Grafton said, "The sub's reactor was dead and her main hatch was open, so she was taking water. As she goes down, any compartment not open to the sea will be crushed — the bulkheads will collapse. If there are any more survivors, they are on the surface now."

"I thought we should search for another hour or so, just to be sure."

"Fine," Jake Grafton said. "Satisfy yourself. But talk to your corps-man. Let's not let our injured woman bleed to death while we hunt for nonexistent survivors."

"I'll talk to the corpsman," the master chief promised. His voice had an edge. Obviously he had already thought of that.

Jake went below, to the small office/mess deck/galley, the topside compartment under the.wheelhouse. The dozen marines who were aboard had to stay out on the deck. Out of the wind and reasonably warm, Jake settled into a corner, pulled the blanket tightly around him, and went to sleep as the boat rocked on the swells.

He awoke when the master chief powered up the hydrofoil. The deck and bulkheads — everything — vibrated as the two huge gas turbine engines lit off and came up to speed. And the motion of the vessel changed. The rocking and pitching steadied, with longer and longer periods as the small ship accelerated. Jake went out on deck where the marines were hunkered down against the increasing wind. Soon the vessel had her hull out of the water and was rock steady.

With the blanket still pulled around him, Jake went up the ladder to the wheelhouse. The hydrofoils were in formation, skimming the sea, headed toward Rota.

"How fast are we going?"

"Working up to fifty-two knots, sir. Be back at base in three hours."

Zelda Hudson was in the one sick bay berth hooked up to an IV, awake, pale, and hurting. The corpsman was there. After a last look at Zelda, he withdrew from the tiny compartment to give Jake a little privacy. "I'll be right outside, Admiral." Someone had passed the word about Jake's rank.

With the door closed, the sound level was tolerable. Jake asked Zelda, "How are you doing?"

"That bastard cut me to pieces, and he enjoyed every moment of it."

"There are people like that out there."

"Ten more minutes and he would have got to my face." A tremor went through her.

Jake reached for her hand, which was ice-cold. "I'm Grafton."

"I remember."

"We're going to be in Rota in three hours. The docs at the base hospital will stitch you up. They'll probably do a whole-blood IV with major antibiotics. When they say it's okay, we'll fly you to the States. The FBI will be waiting. Heck, they'll probably be waiting on the dock in Rota."

She nodded. He released her hand and backed away a step.

"I can't promise you anything, Ms. Hudson. I have no authority to make deals. You're going to need a good lawyer. Maybe your lawyer can cut a deal, maybe he can't. My guess is you're going to do a serious stretch in a federal pen. Be that as it may, I'd hate to see Antoine Jouany dance all the way to the bank with his billions, laughing like hell."

"What do you want to know?"

"I want to know enough so that the feds can seize his assets in the United States. If he doesn't like that, he'll have to file suit in federal court to get them back. Odds are he won't."

She fixed her eyes on his face and began talking.

When he got back to the United States from Spain, Tommy Car-mellini went to Langley to see his boss, Pulzelli. When he arrived, Pulzelli was packing the items in his office in cardboard boxes.

"Ah, the prodigal son returns," Pulzelli said. "It's about time. I've been wondering where you were."

"It's a long story, sir, and I—"

Pulzelli waved him into silence. "I've been reading of your exploits. Admiral Grafton sends messages, you know."

"Oh." Carmellini sank into a chair and watched Pulzelli empty a drawer item by item into a box.

"Are you opening a new office in Kandahar, or taking that movie role in Hollywood?"

"I'm moving into Herman Watring's office. Alas, he's left us."

Carmellini gaped. "Dead?" he asked hopefully.

"No," said Pulzelli, who disappeared behind his desk as he cleaned out a bottom drawer. "He was arrested. It seems that one of the computer criminals is talking to the FBI. Vance, I think. Spilling his guts, as the saying goes. According to him, Watring and our man in London, McSweeney, helped set Zelda Hudson up with Antoine Jouany. The FBI arrested them both."

"Oh, man, I would have loved to have been here to see them take him away!" Carmellini exclaimed. "Did they slap the cuffs on him?"

Pulzelli lifted his head above the top of the desk and made eye contact with Carmellini. "Try to control yourself. Please. For my sake. I have been promoted to department head, and you are now in charge of this division. You'll want to move into this office, of course, as soon as I remove my things."

So Tommy Carmellini didn't quit the CIA. He thought about it for two minutes, but he liked Pulzelli, and with Watring gone, things were looking up. Oh, and a raise went with his promotion. After all, he reflected, the jewelry stores and museums would always be there if he ever got bored.

When the telephone technicians had the system in his new office up and running again, he sat staring at it. He should call someone, but who?

Lizzy, he decided. Before he did he looked in the sports section of the newspaper. After four telephone calls, he tracked her down at the marine base at Quantico.

"Lizzy, Tommy Carmellini. Just checking in."

She was cool. She hadn't forgiven him for not making a pass at her.

"I was calling to see if you would like to go to the wrestling match this weekend in Richmond. Saturday night."

"What is this? Are you jerking me around?"

"Actually, I'm trying to get a date to the wrestling match this weekend. I thought of you."

"I suppose I could go," she said tentatively.

"Do you think your boyfriend would mind, the one who snaps bones?"

"There's no boyfriend. I just told you that so you wouldn't think I was trolling."

"I understand perfectly. A woman must think of her reputation. Saturday afternoon, may I pick you up at Quantico about three?"

She was quickly warming up. "That would be good." She gave him the building number, then added, "You'll love wrestling! It's a new art form, a distillation of the true essence of life. This will open your eyes."

"I'm sure it will."

"And to think that you asked me to go with you to your very first performance! How romantic!"

"Isn't it?" Tommy Carmellini agreed.

Jake did make it to Las Palmas. For a day. Flap and Corina Le Beau left the ship there and flew back to the States. At Jake's insistence, Callie continued to cruise while Jake and Janos Ilin flew back to Rota and sailed aboard a chartered deep-sea salvage vessel.

A week later the vessel pulled up the third stage of the SuperAegis launch vehicle, right where Zelda Hudson said it would be, ten miles off Cape Barbas.

Three days after that, back at the dock in Rota, Jake Grafton and Janos Ilin watched as the third stage was craned aboard a U.S. Navy frigate and secured to the deck for the trip back to the United States.

"So, what are your plans?" Jake asked Ilin. The two were standing on the frigate's bridge drinking coffee and watching the sailors install tie-down chains on the third stage.

"Is that a subtle way of asking if I am going back to Washington to enjoy your hospitality in Crystal City?"

"Yeah. Sort of, I guess."

"You know that the U.S. government won't let me back into the country, or if they do, will throw me out in short order. I watched the satellite broadcasts of CNN while we were at sea. The government has announced that Hudson and Vance are both cooperating. They seized Jouany's assets the day America went down. Apparently that created quite a stir."

"So what do you think Hudson and Vance are saying?"

Ilin laughed. "Aah, friend Grafton. Amigo. I like your style. I really do."

He took his time getting a cigarette going. With the sea breeze coming in off the Atlantic, he had a hard time getting the lighter to work. When the weed was burning satisfactorily, Ilin bestowed another amused look on the American naval officer. "I think Zelda Hudson is telling the FBI that she stole a lot of secrets and sold them to the highest bidder. Occasionally that was me. She was a first-class, high-tech entrepreneur."

"She was more than that," Jake said. "She played the system like a violin."

Ilin smoked in silence.

"Where is Kolnikov?" Jake asked. "He swiped the minisub off Americas back and sailed away before we popped the E-grenades and destroyed the computers."

"Did he? Perhaps he is at the bottom of the sea with Heydrich."

"Sleeping with the fishes? I think not," Jake said. "Kolnikov struck me as a smart, smooth operator. Where is he now?"

"Do you want him?"

"Stealing a submarine and firing missiles at American cities were acts of war. And there was ha Jolla."

"He was not SVR. You know that? He was not working for any branch of the Russian government. I swear to you, no official in the Russian government had any idea Kolnikov or anyone else would steal an American submarine."

"They tell you these things, do they?" Jake snapped. "So you can take blanket oaths?"

Ilin didn't turn a hair. He smoked in silence.

Finally Jake asked, "Zelda Hudson didn't tell you it was going to happen before it did?"

"No," said Janos Ilin.

Perhaps it didn't matter, Jake reflected. He doubted that the politicians would want to push the issue with the Europeans or the Russian government. The airlines were flying again, telephone and electrical services were being restored in Washington and New York, bills were pending in Congress to fund the necessary repairs, life in America was rapidly returning to normal. Even the stock and currency markets were rebounding. Precipitating another major international crisis over a disaster that was past didn't seem like something that would strike the Beltway politicians as a good idea.

The politicians were also smart enough to know that if the FBI talked to Kolnikov, it was possible he would say things they didn't want to hear. As the wise man once said, "If you think you might not like the answer, don't ask the question." Still. .

"I want to know where he is," Jake told Ilin. "Just in case someone wants to hear it from his lips. Or wants a pound of flesh."

Ilin flipped his cigarette butt away from the ship. The brisk breeze caught it and carried it into the scummy harbor water. He turned up his collar and buried his hands in his coat pockets. "The situation is as I have told you." He looked Grafton square in the eyes. "If you want to talk to Vladimir Kolnikov, try Paris. If I were looking for him I would look there."

Ilin held out his hand, and Jake shook it. Then he went down the ladders to the main deck, walked over to the third stage and patted it, then headed for the gangway. As he crossed it he waved to Jake Grafton on the bridge. And Grafton waved back.

On Jake Grafton's first day back at the office a federal marshal delivered a joint congressional committee subpoena. The date and time were set for the next day, which required that he waive the usual waiting period. Jake called the committee staff and told them he would be there.

Jouany had friends in Congress and the financial community. Rich, powerful friends who were making a lot of noise over the seizure of his American assets. In a way the situation was unfortunate for Jouany — the closed markets and New York power problems meant that his trades during the crisis couldn't be settled as they usually were. In the two weeks Jake had been gone the power grid and telephone systems had been returned to normal function and the financial markets were once again in full operation… but almost five billion dollars had been in the Jouany bank accounts or clearinghouse channels when the feds latched on to everything.

Jake went to see Flap in the Pentagon. The commandant had also been subpoenaed and, like Jake, had waived the time requirement. Tomorrow morning at ten.

After Jake had told the general about the recovery of the satellite and his conversation with Janos Ilin, Flap had some choice words for the senators and congresspeople who insisted that the flag officers' investments in the Jouany firms be investigated fully. "It's blackmail," Flap fumed. "Hardball. They know nobody over here played the currency futures or took a bribe. And they're throwing all the mud they can get their hands on. For their buddy Jouany, who's a slimy son of a bitch."

"Oh, no," Jake pointed out. "He's a rich, slimy son of a bitch." Flap gave the admiral The Look.

Grafton grinned. He hadn't been stewing in Washington for ten days, as Flap had, reading the papers every morning. "What was that fine old phrase, 'twisting slowly in the wind'?"

"That's it. Defamation by innuendo is the name of this game." "Sir, may I use your telephone?"

Flap frowned and nodded a curt yes. Jake called a lawyer who had a beach house two blocks from his. After he identified himself, he asked the question, "Can a subpoenaed witness before Congress be sued for libel or slander?"

"You mean for something he said while testifying under oath?" "That's right."

"No. The testimony is privileged. The witness can be prosecuted for perjury, though, if the testimony is false. You know anybody going to the Hill to bare his soul?"

"Me. Tomorrow morning at ten. And General Le Beau. Watch us on television. We're going to be famous. Not rich, just famous." "The proper word to describe that condition is infamous." Jake chuckled and asked the lawyer to dinner the following Saturday night, then thanked him and rang off.

Flap was up to speed. He grinned wolfishly at Grafton. "You should have been a marine," he said.

"If you don't mind, sir, I'd like to go first tomorrow. I'll read a statement, telling what I know about Zelda Hudson and Antoine Jouany and EuroSpace. The only way to shut these people up is to throw the truth in their faces." "The prosecutors won't like it."

"Not my problem," Jake said and laced his fingers behind his head. He was alive and home, and he felt pretty damned good.

Jake wore his dress blue uniform the next morning. Callie was home from Europe, so she came and sat in the gallery. Carmellini sat with her and Corina Le Beau, while Toad sat at the long wooden witness table beside Jake and Flap so it wouldn't look as if they hadn't a friend in the world.

Finally the television lights came on and the chairman made a few remarks. "I understand the commandant has suggested that you go first, Admiral. Do you wish to make a statement?"

"Yes, sir." Jake began reading from his handwritten notes: "This is a story of superpower politics, cutting-edge technology, and greed…."