The world went from light and loud to dark and silent as he plunged into the ocean. He swam deeper and deeper, trying to get under the boat that had looked like it was coming straight for him.
The boat had looked like a rigid-hull inflatable boat, with its bow protruding upwards. A high-horsepower engine probably weighed down the aft end. In the flash David had observed the boat, he thought he had viewed multiple people on board. He guessed three. Had they seen him?
The seconds inched by as David held his breath, waiting for the boat to pass overhead. He was desperately pushing himself downward, trying to fight the buoyant yet precious lungful of air that wanted to raise him up to the surface. He heard the dull noise of the boat passing above. It sounded like it was right on top of him. He looked up, eyes burning in the salt water.
There was a blur of dark motion on the light blue surface of the water as the vessel passed overhead, followed by circling bubbles of white foam. Time moved in agonizing slow motion. David’s lungs screamed at him to breathe, but he kept pumping his arms to stay deep, away from the engine. And away from the eyes of the men on the boat.
When he couldn’t hold his breath any longer, David let himself drift up as slowly as he could manage. He surfaced and breathed in deep gulps of satisfying air. His eyes were on fire with salt water. He wheezed and coughed, treading water. He did his best to stay right at the waterline, out of sight. He could only hope that the passengers on that vessel were far enough away and hadn’t seen him before he dove under, and that they weren’t looking in his direction now. The sky was grey now, and it was light enough for them to see him if they were looking. As the waves carried him up and down each crest and trough, he watched the boat continue its bumpy journey over the water, toward the pier that David had been looking at moments before.
He could see the men on the boat clearly, their bodies bouncing in rhythm with the speeding boat as it skipped across the waves. David had been wrong. There weren’t three men on board — there were four.
Two of the men were Asian, and they wore black uniforms, with submachine guns slung over their shoulders. Not good. One uniformed man piloted the boat. He had one hand on a small silver wheel and the other on a black plastic power control lever. The other uniformed man was gripping a side rail, watching a prisoner.
A prisoner — that’s what the third man looked like from the way he held himself. He held his head down, dejected. His arms and shoulders were slouched together like his hands were restrained.
David couldn’t see the face of the prisoner, but he didn’t need to. He knew who it was. The prisoner’s fluorescent white hair was a very distinct feature. Very easily recognized. That was one of the reasons he had spotted him the other night, in the dark, being hauled unconscious to a helicopter.
Bill.
David was numb. One part of him felt a strange satisfaction that his hunch had been right. A much bigger part of him wanted to panic.
The fourth man turned from facing forward and David almost lost it. The fourth man looked angry and unpleasant, just like he had the week before when he had convinced David to get on a jet to this godforsaken island. The fourth man’s mouth was moving, and he looked like he was saying something to Bill, his prisoner. His prisoner. However impossible that seemed, David could see it in the body language. The fourth man shouldn’t have been in the same hemisphere, let alone on that boat.
David tried to make sense of it. He tried to understand how that could be possible. As the military-style speedboat zoomed off to the dock, David wondered if he had a chance of surviving this ordeal.
He now knew with certainty that this gathering on the island wasn’t to help the United States plan its defense. It was to provide China with its defense plans. No. It was to give China attack plans. They were outsourcing their war planning to the best consultants they could get. And at least some Americans were in on it. Seeing the fourth man confirmed that.
The fourth man was Tom Connolly.
EPISODE 3
CHAPTER 8
In a time of universal deceit — telling the truth is a revolutionary act.
David swam back to his side of the island with determined intensity. There was a slight current working in his favor, not against him. He was lucky for that. In fifteen minutes, he crept out of the water and walked back on the beach near the runway. He hobbled over toward his pile of shoes and clothing. His wet feet were picking up grey bits of sand as he walked.
There was no one out on the runway. David kept looking up to make sure. And he kept his ears peeled for Lena’s footsteps, too. He didn’t want her sneaking up on him and catching him red-handed. He placed his sandy wet feet into his socks and got moving. He looked at his watch. He needed to hurry to make it in time for the first meeting this morning. Now more than ever, he didn’t want to look suspicious. But he needed to tell the others what he’d seen. The question was — how?
Thunder crackled in the distance. He looked up and saw a line of storms approaching from the West. It was still another thirty minutes out, by the looks of it, but the wind was already picking up.
They needed to act soon. As he jogged the length of the runway back to his barracks, he thought about what he needed to do. David didn’t think that the situation could get any worse. He was very wrong.
Henry slouched in his chair in the back of the auditorium, half-listening to the guys next to him. The classroom was alive with chatter. The intellectual exercise of plotting America’s demise and learning interesting bits of classified security information fascinated most of the members of the Red Cell, and everyone seemed to be discussing their groups’ plans. Apparently, the “compartmentalization” rules had been thrown out the window. Rumor was that everything was getting shared today anyway.
Henry scanned the class. David was still missing. It was very unusual for him. And worrisome to Henry. He had said that he was going to find out what was on the other side of the fence. Hopefully he was alright.
The conversation Henry was half-listening to was between two members of the Defense team, who were talking about how wired all of our military technology is today. He couldn’t remember their names. Henry was terrible with names.
The first guy worked as a Navy defense contractor out of Norfolk. He said, “So let me give you an example. A few years ago, one of our Navy warships bumped into a tanker as it was going through a strait. Just a little love tap — probably nothing compared to what a few missiles would do. But this little bump caused a ton of damage. Let me ask you something, do you have any idea how many cables and wires are in a Navy ship?”
The second guy shrugged.
“Thousands. That little bump from a tanker turned one of our most advanced warships into a floating barge real quick. The lights went out, its radar went black, and its guns couldn’t be fired. Think it could shoot a missile? Forget about it. Contractors had a field day, though. Huge maintenance job to fix it up. But my point is — you think that in World War Two, one of Henry J. Kaiser’s ships would have stopped being able to fight a battle because of one little bump against the hull? Hell no! You ever read about the Tin Cans? They took hits from the Japanese and kept on fighting. They had to. If one part of the ship gets destroyed, the rest can’t be affected. That’s what real sea combat is. It’s messy. Comms go down. Wires get cut. Those old World War Two ship drivers knew that. If one part of the ship got hit, the others had to keep on fighting. But today — it’s the wires, man. The wires are the problem.”