“So,” Renard said, “I hear aircraft engines. That’s a good sign, given that we have set an escape plan into motion.”
“I’m heading to safe haven per plan delta.”
Although he assumed no one was eavesdropping, Jake avoided verbalizing clues that the safe haven was a villa in Tuscany.
“We should discuss the nature of your sudden egress,” Renard said. “Maybe we should reconsider your destination.”
“Why?”
“Because safe haven may not be so safe.”
“You said it was untraceable to either of us. A quiet place across a national border in the middle of nowhere.”
“It’s safe if you can get there unnoticed,” Renard said, “but tell me who is searching for you.”
Jake sighed and felt like an idiot.
“The CIA,” he said. “You were right about Olivia. She played me from the beginning.”
“Damn!”
Jake rubbed his forehead.
“I’m only human. And you met her. She’s perfect.”
“How did you find out?” Renard asked.
“She confessed. Long story. I’m not even sure yet why she’s with me.”
“Merde de l’eau! She is with you?”
“Helped me bust out of Avignon. I’d be in custody now if it weren’t for her.”
“This is bizarre. I don’t—”
Olivia yanked the phone from Jake.
“My name is Olivia McDonald, and every piece of public information about me up until my graduation from Yale’s PhD program is true. After that I entered the CIA, and I know your complete history starting with your failed attempt to steal Russian nuclear warheads, your failed attempt to steal the Colorado’s warheads, and your operation of commanding the Taiwanese submarine Hai Lang. You’re probably standing on it right now.”
Jake overheard Renard’s reply.
“I don’t know which is worse — that you know everything about me or that you summarize my life as if it were a complete and utter failure. As for you, I assume you are now a fugitive. If you are indeed with Jake, then the closer you are to me, the farther you are from the grasp of the CIA.”
Olivia’s eyes fluttered over Jake with concern.
“You just want me to make sure he joins you.”
“Damn it, woman, I’m surrounded by old men and novices. Jake is a genius with experience, and he’s cool under fire. I need him.”
Jake took the phone.
“I’ll join you,” he said.
There was silence.
“I said I’m with you,” Jake said.
“Finally. You’ve made the right decision, mon ami.”
“How do I get there?” Jake asked.
“I expect to make the arrangements shortly, but I suspect your first stop will be the naval base at Algiers.”
“Algiers?”
“Indeed,” Renard said. “One of Admiral Khan’s greatest threats is the Indian Kilo class submarine. If you were he, would you not befriend a fellow Moslem naval commander who has Kilos in his own fleet?”
“So we have an ally across the Mediterranean.”
“More a professional acquaintance,” Renard said. “This will not be free. I will split the cost with you, but a ticket for two from Algiers to Karachi via military transport may cost seven figures.”
A million euro would only dent Jake’s holdings.
“Set it up,” Jake said.
“Soon, my friend. I will also electronically send technical manuals. Disks should be burned for you before you arrive in Algiers. You need to begin studying.”
“It will give me something to do during my travel. What am I studying? Diesel submarine tactics?
“That, of course,” Renard said. “But I need you to master the Subtics combat system.”
“Can do. Anything else?”
“The Taiwanese have employed an unmanned vehicle in the Hai Lang. They’ve mastered unmanned technology and have developed a torpedo tube-launched rover. Commander Ye, the submarine’s official captain, wants to use it, but I don’t trust robots. See if you can make sense of them.”
“Anything else?”
Renard’s voice fell to a whisper.
“What exactly did Olivia do to assist with your escape?” he asked.
“I couldn’t see well, but I think she swept two cops with a leg whip. It was some sweet riding.”
Jake glanced at Olivia. She shrugged and smiled.
“More or less,” she said.
“Very well,” Renard said. “It sounds legitimate, but think it all through carefully when your head is clear. If she were able to fool you to this point, what is to keep her from continuing? Your entire escape may be a charade to earn your deeper confidence.”
“For what?” Jake asked.
“I have no idea,” Renard said.
Jake looked at Olivia. She was staring through a window, and the rising sun cast a shadow from her sleek jaw to the supple flesh of her neck. He thought she looked beautiful but remembered that nature employed visual allure to trap prey.
“Anything else?” he asked.
“Let me speak to Alain,” Renard said.
Sunlight creeping over the horizon bathed LeClerc as he raised a hand from the control yoke and placed the phone to his ear. He exchanged quick words with Renard.
“Algiers is our new destination,” LeClerc said while lowering the phone, “and I am a very rich man.”
Over blue water, Jake’s thoughts melded with the drone of the twin turbo propeller engines. He scanned the innards of the Cessna, and a pile of tightly wrapped canvas bundles gave him an idea.
“How much does a plane like this go for?” he asked.
“I could probably get nearly four hundred euro,” LeClerc said. “Why?”
“How long ago were those packed?” he asked.
“The parachutes? I don’t like where this is going.”
“How long ago?”
“Three weeks,” LeClerc said. “Pierre insisted I keep them at the ready as part of earning my stipend.”
Thankful he didn’t have to use the parachutes per “plan echo”, Jake wondered if LeClerc were willing.
“One million euro,” Jake said, “should cover your expense and troubles if you ditch this thing in the Med after you drop us off in Algiers.”
“Easy for you to say.”
“You ditch close to shore, over a fishing haven or shipping lane, and swim in or wait for a vessel to pick you up. We’ll ask Pierre’s contact in Algiers to make sure a patrol craft comes and gets you. Hell, you’ll even have a phone and your coordinates. Every sea captain in Algeria speaks French, I’m sure.”
“Why?” LeClerc asked. “What advantage is gained?”
“Covers everyone’s ass. If you get questioned, say I made you jump. No one in Algiers has an airplane to hide, and the trail leading to my butt gets colder.”
“It could work,” LeClerc said.
“Can you do it?” Jake asked.
“I ditched a damaged Mirage in the North Sea short of a carrier at night. Comparatively, this will be a joy.”
CHAPTER 18
The half-night of slumber caught up to Jake as he reclined in his seat. He wanted to sleep but found the three rows of passenger chairs in the idling Algerian C-130 cargo aircraft uncomfortable. Olivia dozed by his side.
He glanced over his shoulder. Web nets stretched over aluminum bars — uncomfortable but efficient seating for unfortunate souls subject to military mass transit — lined the fuselage. They were empty. Except for the pilot and co-pilot, he and Olivia were alone.
A lithe man Jake’s age tossed his military cap aside and threw his arm over the back of his pilot’s chair. Though the sky was overcast, the pilot wore sunglasses and seemed content to keep them on for fashion’s sake.