hands than her eyes. Finally, she felt her. Gripping the girl by her hair, she pulled her to the surface. Viggie was kicking, screaming and coughing up dirty river water.
Michelle looked around. Her kayak was twenty yards away and moving fast. The length of rope attached to Michelle’s leg was almost taut.
She forced Viggie to lie on her back, placed her arm around the girl’s chest and said as calmly as she could, “I’ve got you, sweetie. You’re okay. I’m going to get you to the kayak and then we’ll be fine, okay? You just have to relax. If you fight me, it just makes it harder. Just relax. I’ve got you.”
Realizing that she was not going under, Viggie grew still. They were not out of danger yet, Michelle clearly understood, because the kayak was moving fast and pulling them along with it. She had two options. She could cut the line and swim back with Viggie, or she could try to pull the kayak to her with her one arm and attempt to get her and Viggie in it. Neither option was without its complications. Meanwhile, the storm was only getting worse.
Michelle was a very strong swimmer, but she could already feel herself growing a little tired. And it was a long way to shore. She could swim with the current, but at some point she’d have to cut against it to get to land. By then she might not have the strength to do it. She was not going to let this come down to choosing saving herself over Viggie. As soon as she had jumped in the water Michelle had made up her mind that it would be both or none.
The rope tied to her leg was pulled so taut that it made it impossible for her to keep a good grip on Viggie. She finally kicked the rope free and the kayak sailed away from them.
Michelle eyed behind her. She had to get them to shore, fast. She gripped Viggie tighter with one arm, kicked hard with her legs and pushed against the current with her free arm. It was no use. She simply couldn’t swim across the current while holding on to Viggie.
The storm was right over them now. All she could hear were the cracks of the thunder, the swirl of wind and the groan of the trees as they were bent back and forth. Viggie started to squirm, perhaps sensing the rising panic in Michelle’s tense limbs.
She never heard the sound of the motor until it was right on them. Strong hands reached down, grabbed Viggie and pulled her up. Then Michelle was being pulled in as well. As she perched on one of the seats, her arms around a whimpering Viggie, Michelle looked up at Champ Pollion, who had turned his attention back to piloting the boat. He set a direct course back to Babbage Town’s dock.
After making sure Viggie was all right Michelle rose and stood beside him. “Thanks. It was getting pretty crazy out there.”
“I was out for a walk; saw Viggie capsize first and then you heading out to rescue her. That’s when I ran to get the powerboat. I figured the best way was to grab you both as fast as I could.”
He smoothly docked the boat and helped Michelle get Viggie off. The girl was still pretty much deadweight at this point.
“Sure she’s okay?” Champ said anxiously.
“Yeah, just scared.”
“Can’t blame her.”
Michelle took Viggie gently by the shoulder and led her up the path to Babbage Town. Champ walked with them to Alicia’s cottage.Michelle said, “If you pilot a plane as well as you do a boat, tomorrow should be very pleasant.”
“Uh, do you mind if we push our flight back a day? Something came up.”
“That’s fine, Champ. Whenever.”
Champ smiled shyly, mumbled something incoherent and hurried off.
“You saved my life, Mick,” Viggie said after they had both changed into dry clothes.
“Mr. Champ deserves a lot of the credit,” she said. “And what were you doing out on the river all by yourself?” she added in a scolding tone.
Viggie studied her hands, her face drooping like a rain-soaked flower. “I… I just wanted to be by myself.”
“I can think of lots of ways to do that that don’t involve putting yourself in danger.”
“Thank you for saving my life,” Viggie said.
“I’m just glad I was there.”
Viggie stood, went over to the piano and started playing. Softly, not frantically, as she had last time. The notes were slow, almost mournful. She looked up at Michelle as she played, her features inscrutable.
After she finished, Michelle said, “Thank you, Viggie, that was beautiful. What was it?”
Viggie didn’t answer. She turned and walked up the stairs. A moment later her bedroom door closed.
Back out on the York River, a twenty-foot RIB or rigid inflatable boat, the backbone of the military’s light amphibious assault teams, was cruising around, Ian Whitfield at the wheel. The man seemed oblivious to the storm raging around him. On the deck of the RIB was Michelle’s kayak, with the rope still attached to its stern ring. He hit the throttles and the RIB sprinted toward the Babbage Town side of the water. He docked the boat, climbed out and slid the kayak up onto the floating pier. He grimaced a bit as he jumped back into his vessel. He wore a yellow rain slicker and khaki shorts. His lower legs were muscular and deeply tanned. The right one, though, was also heavily scarred. Chilly rain always made it throb.
He hit the throttle and the RIB took a huge leap forward; its bow at a forty-five-degree angle as it rode up the wall of chop. In another minute the RIB and the head of Camp Peary were just a speck on the river as the storm continued to slam the area.
CHAPTER 65
BY EARLY THE NEXT MORNING the bad weather had passed and Sean and Michelle convened at the same isolated spot about a mile from Babbage Town. When they had talked yesterday Michelle had recounted her experience on the river. In turn he’d brought her up to speed about Champ’s lack of an alibi. They were meeting this morning to go over things in more detail away from prying eyes at Babbage Town.
He said, “Tell me again what was Viggie doing out on the water in a kayak all by herself?”
“She basically said she wanted some alone time.”
“Or maybe she wanted to get a better look at Camp Peary?”
“Why?” she asked.
“I don’t know.”
“Did you find out anything on your end?”
Sean nodded. “I talked to Hayes. He got a look at Monk’s passport and it shows that he
“Do we know where?”
“He entered by way of Frankfurt. That’s all Hayes could tell me. I’ve called Joan and she’s trying to run down more specifics for us.” He unrolled a large piece of paper and spread it out over the hood of Michelle’s truck. “I took a picture of the satellite map of Camp Peary that Freeman had in his office and had it enlarged.”
He pointed out various sections to her. “I’ve heard different numbers, but I believe the place is about ten thousand acres, most of it undeveloped. As we already knew, the runway is fairly near where Monk’s body was found. A bit south are what appear to be a series of bunkers. Farther down from that is a boat dock.” He traced another section with his finger that had names printed on it. “This looks like some of the neighborhoods Freeman mentioned. Bigler’s Mill Pond is here, Porto Bello house there, Queens Lake behind it and Magruder there. The main complex is bordered on the west by Interstate 64 and to the south by Colonial National Historical Parkway. And the Naval Supply Cheatham Annex is there,” he added, poking the paper with his index finger.
“There’s an inlet from the York south of the runway and it carries you deeply into the grounds,” Michelle pointed out.
“And we can be sure it’s well guarded,” Sean said. “Certainly on land and for all I know they have the inlet mined.”
“So over the fence we go? Did the equipment come in?”
Sean nodded. “Yeah, all of it.” He suddenly slumped back against the truck. “Michelle, I don’t want to go over
