71
LATER, GERRY HENDLEY would reflect that the hardest part of the whole damned affair-aside from the event that prompted it, that was-was simply finding a private place to bring them in. Former President Ryan had finally stepped in, making one phone call to the chief of staff of the Air Force, CSAF, who in turn called the commander of the 316th Wing, the host unit at Andrews Air Force Base.
They arrived in two black Chevy Tahoes, Hendley, Jerry Rounds, Tom Davis, Rick Bell, Pete Alexander, and Sam Granger in the first; Clark, Chavez, and Jack Ryan Jr. in the second. Both vehicles turned left onto C Street and coasted to a stop beside a hangar at the edge of the tarmac. Former President Ryan arrived five minutes later in a Town Car flanked by the Secret Service detail in two Suburbans.
The Gulfstream V touched down eleven minutes later, three minutes behind schedule, and taxied to a stop fifty yards away. The engines spooled down, and the scaffold stairs were rolled out and locked onto the plane’s main door.
Jack Ryan Jr. climbed out of the Tahoe, followed by the rest, who stood a few feet behind him.
The Gulfstream’s door opened, and thirty seconds later Dominic Caruso appeared at the threshold. He blinked at the sunlight, then started down the stairs. His face was drawn and showed five days’ worth of stubble. Jack walked out and met him halfway. They embraced.
“I’m so sorry, man,” Jack whispered.
Dominic didn’t respond but broke the hug and nodded. “Yeah” was all he said.
“Where is he?”
“Cargo hold. They wouldn’t let me take him in the cabin.”
After leaving the quarry, Bari had driven as fast as possible with the Opel’s headlights off, making it back to the main highway in less than ten minutes. Brian drifted in and out of consciousness as they raced west along the coast, as Dominic gripped his hand and cradled his head in his lap. He kept his other hand pressed to the bullet wound, which kept oozing dark blood, coating Dominic’s hand and forearm and soaking the seat beneath his legs. Seven miles from Zuwarah, Brian started coughing, lightly at first, then spasmodically, his body heaving off the seat as Dominic lay across his torso and whispered for him to hang on. After a few minutes, Brian seemed to relax and his breathing steadied. Then stopped. Dominic wouldn’t realize it until much later, but he’d felt that moment, that too-slight gap between Brian being alive and dead. Dominic straightened up in his seat and found Brian’s head lolled to one side, his sightless eyes staring at the back of the seat.
He told Bari to pull over and stop the car, which he did, then Dominic took the keys from the ignition, got out of the car, and walked ten yards away. To the east, the first faint rays of pink sunlight were showing over the horizon. Dominic sat in silence, watching the sunrise and not wanting to look at Brian, half hoping that when he did he’d find his brother breathing again and looking at him with a stupid, goofy smile. Of course, that didn’t happen. After ten minutes, he got back into the car and ordered the Libyan to get off the main highway and find them a place to hole up. After thirty minutes of driving, Bari found a shaded grove of palm trees and pulled in.
Dominic called Archie’s cell phone; help from The Campus would take too long. In two curt sentences, he told the Aussie what had happened, then handed the phone to Bari, who gave Archie directions to their location. It took two hours. Archie arrived in a Range Rover, and without a word pulled Dominic out of the Opel, put him the Rover’s backseat, then retrieved a plastic body bag from the hatch and returned to the Opel, where he and Bari carefully slid Brian’s body from the backseat and sealed him in the bag. After placing the bag in the Rover’s cargo area, he returned to the Opel and cleaned it out, dumping all the gear and weapons into the trunk. Once he was sure the car was clean, Archie doused the Opel’s interior with the contents of a five-gallon gas can and lit it on fire.
They were back in Tripoli by noon. Archie bypassed the consulate and drove straight to what Dominic assumed was a safe house off Bassel el Asad near the stadium. Bari, bound hand and foot, was locked in the bathroom, then Archie made sure the landline’s scrambler was running, then left Dominic alone to make the call home.
Who else knows?” Dominic now asked his cousin.
“No one,” Jack replied. “Just who’s here. I figured you’d want to do it. Or if you want, I can-”
“No.”
Jack asked, “You wanna go home?”
“No. We got some stuff. You guys are going to want it. Let’s go back to the office. Hendley or somebody needs to get with Archie in Tripoli. If we want Bari back here, we’re going to have to-”
“Dom, you don’t have to worry about that stuff. We’ll handle it.”
Former President Ryan walked up, and he and Dominic embraced. “Sorry doesn’t quite seem to do it, son, but I am.”
Dominic nodded. To Jack: “Let’s just go, okay.”
“Sure.”
Jack turned and signaled to Clark and Chavez, who walked up and escorted Dominic back to the second Tahoe. Jack asked his dad, “Get a ride with you?”
“Of course.”
Jack gave Hendley a nod, then followed his dad to the Town Car.
They rode in silence until the cars cleared the main gate, then Ryan Senior said, “The hell of it is, we’ll probably never know what happened. As much as I want to, I’m not going to ask Gerry.”
“Ask me,” Jack said.
“What?”
“They were in Tripoli, Dad, chasing down something.”
“What’re you talking about? How do you know that?”
“How do you think?”
Ryan Senior didn’t answer right away but simply stared at his son. “You’re serious.”
“Yes.”
“Jesus, Jack.”
“You’ve always told me I gotta make my own way in life. That’s what I’m doing.”
“How long?”
“Year and a half. I kind of put two and two together and figured out there was more to Gerry’s shop than met the eye. I went in and talked to him. Talked my way into a job, I guess.”
“Doing what?”
“Mostly analysis.”
“‘Mostly.’ What does that mean?” Ryan Senior’s voice was harder now.
“I’ve been doing a little field stuff. Not much, just getting my feet wet.”
“No way, Jack. That’s done. I’m not going to have you-”
“Not your decision.”
“The hell it isn’t. The Campus was my idea. I went to Gerry and-”
“And it’s his show, right? I’m halfway sharp, Dad. I don’t need you watching over me. We’ve done some good work there. Same kind of stuff you used to do. If it was okay for you, then why not me?”
“Because you’re my son, goddamn it.”
Here Jack offered a half-smile to his father. “Then maybe it’s in my blood.”
“Bullshit.”
“Look, I did the financial world, and it was okay, but it didn’t take me long to realize I didn’t want to do it the rest of my life. I want to do something. Make a difference, serve my country.”
“So go teach Sunday school.”
“Next thing on my list.”
Ryan Senior sighed. “You’re not a kid anymore, I guess.”
“Nope.”
“Well, it doesn’t mean I have to like it, and I probably never will, but I suppose that’s my problem. Your mom, though, that’s going to be a different story.”
“I’ll talk to her.”