The same wave picked up Kaplan, spun him sideways and crashed him into the rocky bottom.
Jake stood in knee-high water. He looked back as Kaplan surfaced. Blood streamed down his face, a gash across the top of his forehead.
“I’m okay.” Kaplan stammered.
Another wave, a more powerful wave, picked Kaplan up and hurled him into the tiered rock bottom.
“Gregg.” Jake shouted. He took two steps forward when he caught a glimpse of Kaplan’s life vest then it disappeared. Until the sea released its grip, Kaplan would remain under water.
Jake waded through the sea foam, reaching his hand into the water, grasping for any part of Kaplan. In his peripheral vision he saw another wave coming. His hand latched onto something, Kaplan’s life vest. He grabbed it and ducked underwater allowing the wave to hammer over the top of him. He held on tight as the water dragged him and an unconscious Kaplan along the bottom.
As the water receded, he grabbed Kaplan’s vest and pulled him toward shore — dry land only a few meters away — when another, smaller wave broke and pushed them closer. Jake fell on his haunches and felt the sharp rock dig into his leg. Adrenaline numbed the pain. He rose to his feet and leaned into his efforts to drag Kaplan to shore. Two feet of water, five meters to go.
He heard it before he saw it. Another mammoth wave bearing down across the rocky bottom with its sight set on them. Water rapidly receded underneath his feet as the wave sucked in as much as it could before spewing it out. With a thunderous crash the wave broke two meters in front of him. He pulled hard dragging Kaplan toward dry land. He stepped in a hole and fell. The wave cascaded over him driving Kaplan over him like a bulldozer through a pile of dirt.
His whole body ached. He was bruised and scraped. He stood, grabbed Kaplan’s vest and pulled him up the rocky slope. For the first time, he noticed the unnatural position of Kaplan’s leg.
He rolled Kaplan to his side and checked for breathing.
Kaplan coughed up water. “My leg. My leg.”
“Your leg’s broken. It looks bad.” Jake said. “You got a good-sized knot on your head too.”
“But we made it, right?”
“Yeah, buddy. We made it.” Jake looked around. “I don’t know where we are, but we made it. You stay here while I go get help.”
“I’m sure as hell not going anyplace.”
Jake looked at Kaplan’s leg. “Right.”
CHAPTER 63
Jake sat across the hospital café table from Lieutenant Travers Heuse of France’s GIGN. The same man he’d met days before in Paris, wearing the same blue jeans, the same tweed jacket and with another smelly cigarette dangling from his lips while he spoke.
“So Khan got away?” Heuse asked.
“He did.”
“Any idea where he’s going this time?”
“No.”
“This is getting to be like a bad habit. Me sitting with you after you let Khan get away…yet again.”
“I don’t like it either.” Jake stared at the inch-long ash dangling from the end of Heuse’s cigarette, waiting for gravity to pull it loose. “I’d like to go check on Gregg.”
“He’s still in surgery. They must put a temporary pin in his knee.” Heuse pulled the cigarette from his mouth, tapped the long ash loose, letting it fall to the floor. “The break was not good. The doctor said Monsieur Kaplan will limp when he walks. The rocks are treacherous in the heavy surf, no?”
“It was just the highlight of a nine mile swim.”
After he’d left Kaplan on the rocks, he’d climbed the sloping cliffs then scaled the rock wall surrounding the fort. Within minutes of locating a staff member, there were a dozen or more people lining up to rescue the crippled Kaplan from the rocky beach. Then they were transported to the hospital in Biarritz where he was treated for minor abrasions and a sprained ankle.
Kaplan wasn’t so lucky. He’d suffered a concussion, three broken fingers on his left hand, and his left leg was broken at the knee. When Jake pulled him from the water, Kaplan’s left leg made a twenty-degree bend at the knee in the wrong direction, out to the side. Jake knew months of physical therapy and rehabilitation lay ahead for Kaplan.
“Monsieur, you have been most troubling for the French government. Might I suggest you leave France and not return for a long while.”
“And he’ll be happy to oblige you, Lieutenant.” Jake recognized the voice. DCI Scott Bentley. “As soon as Gregg is released, we’ll be out of your hair.”
“Admiral, Sir.” Jake stood to his feet, and then he remembered Bentley’s orders about protocol — or rather the lack of it — and discretion. Jake motioned with his hand. “Director Bentley, Lieutenant Travers Heuse.” Why is Bentley always showing up unannounced?
Heuse looked nervous. He obviously knew who Bentley was from their dealings over the Paris debacle, but face-to-face with one of the most powerful men in the world, Heuse looked intimidated. Jake fought back a smile.
“Director?” Heuse said. “To what do I owe the privilege?”
Bentley ignored him. “Jake, go to Kaplan’s room and wait for me. I’d like to have a moment alone with Lieutenant Heuse.”
“Yes sir.”
The medics helped a sedated Kaplan into the CIA Challenger and prepped him for the flight to Washington, DC. One of Wiley’s two Citation 750s sat next to it on the ramp just west of the main passenger terminal at the small French airport.
“Where’s Mr. Wiley?” Jake asked.
“I don’t know for sure, but I suspect El Paso.” Bentley opened his leather portfolio briefcase and pulled out a large brown envelope. “He and I have a meeting tomorrow at The Greenbrier in West Virginia.”
Jake stared at the envelope barely listening what Bentley was saying. “The Greenbrier. The hotel with the bunker?”
“One and the same. Elmore said he's sending you to New York?”
“So I've been told.” Jake wondered if Bentley had information on Khan. The material he’d gotten from the redheaded woman named Francesca at Peine del Viento in San Sebastian was speculation but so far, Wiley had produced good intel. “New information on Khan?”
“No, Jake. I’m afraid not.” Bentley sidestepped. Jake could tell he was uncomfortable. “You can read this on the plane.” He held it out then pulled it back as Jake reached for it.
“What?”
“Listen, Jake. There are many things that have happened over the last few months that you thought was misfortune. But what’s in this envelope removes many doubts.” Bentley extended the envelope to Jake but held on to the end.
Jake’s stomach tightened.
“You’re going to be enraged. Now, more than ever, you’ll need to focus. You must control your emotions. I think Wiley has done a great job with you. He says he’s done nothing, but I see a difference.” Bentley pointed toward the Challenger. “And so does Gregg. I don’t know why you dumped Gregg in San Sebastian. I don’t want to know. I suspected you struck out after Khan on your own. But obviously you had some other motive. What’s in this envelope isn’t about Khan, it’s about you.”
Bentley went silent.
He surmised the director was letting the words sink in…and they had. “What about me?”
“This is your past, your present, and might very well shape your future. It depends on what you do with it. How you handle it.”
“Sir, you make it sound terrible.”
“Jake, the contents of this envelope will enrage every cell in your body.” Bentley let go of the envelope.
CHAPTER 64
Ian Collins checked on the woman. She’d been drugged since they arrived at his villa on Ios. Same drug he’d used on the cheerleader in Dallas eight months ago. Same drug he’d used many times. It’s greatest benefit; it kept her quiet and compliant.