Dark Waters (25 page)

“That’s impossible.”

With a whisper of a click, she closed the door behind her and the two of them ran.

H
addid was already waiting in the backseat when they reached the car.

Walker started the sedan and peeled out of the parking lot. “What happened?”

“They asked me some questions and then let me go.”

“You got lucky,” Walker said.

“I must look trustworthy, for an Arab.”

Ignoring the banter, Jordan dug the burner phone out of the glove box. She was a few minutes early, but she dialed the number Ganani had given her. Taylor answered. From his tone, she knew immediately that Lucy was still missing.

“There’s no sign of them,” he said.

“Did you try the police station?” she asked.

“The sergeant at the desk says Lotner was off duty today.”

“Did you check his home?”

“There’s no sign of them there.”

Jordan could hear the measure of control in his voice. How close he was to the edge, she could only guess.

“Ganani managed to tap the Shin Bet records on Lotner,” he said. “It turns out his wife and Tamar Cline are close friends.”

The link. A small one, but enough to finger Lotner as the mole. His feeding Brodsky information had allowed the colonel
to stay one step ahead. But what was the end game? And which one of the two was feeding information to the Palestinians? The answers lay in the blueprints.

“Lotner won’t hurt her, Taylor,” Jordan said. “He needs her for when things go south.” It surprised her how easy it was to fudge the truth. “The best bet for getting her back is to see this mission through to the end.”

Ganani’s voice broke through the line.

“Call us again in two hours,” she said. The line went dead.

Jordan set the phone down on the seat beside her and pulled her knees up into a tight fetal position.

“What happened?” Walker asked. “Any word on Posner?”

Jordan shook her head. She’d forgotten to ask. “Lotner has taken Lucy.”

The tears that had threatened before now spilled down her cheeks unchecked. She thought of her father and about her promise to herself to find out the truth about his death. She heard the oath she had taken to safeguard those in her care. She had failed on all counts. She squeezed her arms around her legs.

“Turn around,” she said. “It’s my job to find Lucy.”

Haddid’s hand connected with the back of the seat, jarring Jordan forward. “After what we have learned? You cannot waste time.”

“Lucy is my responsibility,” she said.

“What about your responsibility to the people who live here?”

“I work for the United States government. My duty is to the Americans I was sworn to protect, not to Israel, and not to Palestine.”

Even as she said the words, Jordan knew she couldn’t defend them. As much as she had a duty to the Taylors, she had a responsibility to the seven-million-plus people who would be affected by an attack on the water system. But knowing there were bigger things at stake didn’t make ignoring her responsibility to the Taylors any easier.

“What you told him was right,” Walker said. “They’re not going to hurt her. She’s the bargaining chip. They need her alive.”

Jordan unfolded her body and swiped away her tears. Doing nothing wasn’t an option.

“Maybe we can do something about both. Lucy might not have taken her purse, but what about her cell phone?” Jordan asked. “If she has it on her, can you trace it?”

“Maybe,” Walker said, “if the phone’s GPS is activated and I can get on a computer.”

Two big ifs. Still, it was worth a try. “Let’s find a coffeehouse.”

Walker drove north out of Haifa. Thirty minutes later, they reached the main drag of Nahariya and found a twenty-four-hour café with Internet access. While Jordan and Haddid found a table, Walker parked the car on a side street just in case an APB had been issued on their plates.

Glancing around, Jordan took quick stock of the coffeehouse. The bar ran the length of the room in the back, mirrored and stocked with bottles full of a variety of flavorings. Small tables for two and four were spread evenly around the floor in front, most hosting a computer. Only two of the tables were occupied. At a table in the back, a young man with dreadlocks hunched over a laptop computer. Jordan could hear his earbuds humming from fifteen feet away. On the opposite side of the room, a young couple were more engrossed in each other than in their coffee.

Jordan selected a table toward the front, near the window and door, with a view of the street. Walker came in, ordered them coffee, and purchased a computer access card with one hour’s worth of time.

“Here,” he said, setting down a tray laden with three coffees, a variety of pastries, a bowl of creamers, and three types of sweeteners on the table. “Pick your poison.”

Jordan chose a mug, doctored it with cream, and selected a raspberry Danish from the pile. She hadn’t eaten since early in the
day, and the warm liquid combined with the pastry calmed the pain in her stomach and helped clear her mind.

Pulling the blueprint from her pocket, she flattened it on the table while Walker logged in to the computer.

“What’s Lucy’s number?”

“I have no idea,” she said.

“That makes it harder, but not impossible.”

While Walker worked his magic, Jordan studied the layout of the pump station. The black-on-white drawings located the pumps, the walkways, the staircase, and the various rooms and their contents. Circled in the corner was a small schematic of the operation as a whole, and on the left was information about the equipment. Three-quarters of the main structure appeared to be underground, housing a computer room, two fifty-foot cranes, and three massive pumps in cistern-like structures. Several access tunnels, reachable from the surface, housed electrical lines, cables, and equipment.

“Okay, here we go,” Walker said.

Jordan slid her chair around beside Walker’s, dragging the blueprint with her. “You found her?”

“Hmm huh.” He tapped a few keys and several targets appeared on the map. He tapped a few more keys until one target remained. “Unn uh.”

“What do you mean?”

Walker tapped the screen, causing the image to liquefy. “The phone is at the apartment, Jordan. She must have left it behind. Sorry.”

Jordan watched the map on the computer meld. Then the street names become legible again, and the red target marking Lucy’s cell phone signal came into focus. It hovered over the Dizengoff Apartments. As the image gelled, Jordan felt herself unraveling again. She had been assigned to keep Lucy and her father
safe. Now the girl was in the hands of men who thought nothing of killing in order to further their own agenda.

Jordan’s hands trembled, crumpling the edges of the blueprint.

“Don’t let them succeed,” Haddid said. “You must stay focused on the bigger picture.”

His words hit their mark, cauterizing the fraying threads of her resolve. It was time to accept the fact that there was nothing more she could do. She was convinced Brodsky had manipulated Steven Cline, facilitated the assault on Posner, orchestrated Alena Petrenko’s kidnapping, and engineered Lucy’s disappearance. She refused to let him hurt anyone else. There was no way could she let him win. The only thing left to do was stop the attack on the Sapir Pumping Station.

Jordan smoothed the edges of the blueprint and focused her attention on the etched details of the drawings.

“The pump units are accessible only through panel doors located on top of the cisterns,” she said. “The specs say the panels are automatically sealed when the pumps are running.”

“Everyone knows this,” Haddid said. “The government allows tours of Sapir.”

“Let’s check it out online.” Walker hit a few keystrokes on the computer and then studied the screen. “Security appears to be tight.”

Jordan looked at the blueprint. “What about one of the access tunnels?”

Walker shook his head. “We’d never get to them. According to the website, there are guards everywhere. The perimeter is surrounded by a wire fence topped with barbed wire and patrolled by soldiers twenty-four-seven. There is an aboveground pump, used as a backup system, housed in a concrete structure separate from the main building. But it’s also guarded around the clock. I don’t see how we’re going to get in unless you plan to start shooting Israelis.”

“How will Brodsky and his men get inside?” Haddid asked.

“Through the main entrance.” Walker and Jordan spoke in unison.

“Think about it,” Jordan said. “If you were a guard and a Shin Bet colonel wanted access to the pumps, what would you do?”

Haddid played with his coffee cup. “I’d let him pass. But once he has sabotaged the pumps, how does he plan to escape?”

“Through one of the tunnels,” Jordan said, “or maybe out the front entrance. For all we know, his plan is to kill the guards.”

“I doubt he’ll even show up,” Walker said. “There’s nothing solid tying him to this operation. Just conjecture and circumstantial evidence. If he’s the mastermind, he’ll just send his goons to do his dirty work.”

Jordan hoped Walker was wrong. She looked back at the plans. There had to be another way in—a way no one would consider. She turned the document, coming at the station from every angle, and found herself repeatedly drawn to the star-shaped apparatus marking the end of the submerged pipes. She turned the document again and then ran some calculations based on the specs.

“There.”

Haddid and Walker stopped talking and looked at her.

“I just found our way in.”

J
ordan placed the call to Taylor and Ganani at exactly two hours after the last one had disconnected. Again Taylor picked up.

“How are you holding up?” she asked.

“How do you think?”

“Did you contact Dr. Petrenko?” Jordan was sure he was nodding.

“Daugherty also made some calls. The police have Alena under guard.”

Before Jordan could offer any reassurances, Ganani’s voice cut over the line.

“What is the plan?”

Jordan told her about the Sapir Pumping Station blueprints. “I think I’ve found a way in. If we make a move now, we can be waiting for them when they attack.”

“We have no idea when that will be,” Ganani said.

“They know we’re on to them. We’ll be lucky if they haven’t moved already.”

“Tomorrow is Shabbos.”

“What better time for a surprise attack?” Jordan waited for her words to sink in. “We’ll need to gather a few supplies. Do you know a place near Tiberias where we can meet?”

“We can meet at the market.”

“What about someone who will help?”

“I have a friend who runs the horticultural lab for the Kibbutz Ginosar. The kibbutz is north of town and owns the land adjacent to the pump station.”

“Can we trust him?” Jordan asked.

“Her.”

“We’ll need access to a computer.”

“I’ll make a call.”

Jordan hung up. While she waited for Ganani to call back, she placed one more call. To Daugherty. “You’re hot, Jordan,” he announced.

“How so?”

“You have every cop and every soldier in Israel looking for you and your friends. Detective Lotner has put out an APB for you and Ganani, and Colonel Brodsky called this afternoon to let me know he’d taken over on the Dizengoff shooting case.”

“Sir, you can’t trust either one of those men.”

“Why not?”

She told him her theory that the two men were working together.

“It’s all conjecture. Where’s the proof?”

“Are you saying you won’t help?”

“I’m saying I can’t help, Jordan. Without something I can take to someone above me, my hands are tied.”

*

The dive shops in Nahariya opened at 8:00 a.m. Looking rumpled from sleeping in the car, Jordan and Taylor purchased two sets of diving equipment—wet suits, small tanks, regulators, weights, masks, rubber-soled boots, strap fins, and wet packs. Accessories included dive lights, watches, knives, and wire cutters. Jordan
paid with a government credit card. By the time anyone traced the charges, this would be over.

Their rendezvous point in Tiberias was a little over an hour’s drive. The small city, also known as Kinneret, was nestled on the western shore of the Sea of Galilee, approximately twelve kilometers south of the Sapir Pumping Station. Ganani and Taylor were waiting at the outdoor market. Transferring the gear into Ganani’s vehicle, they ditched Jordan’s car in a corner of the crowded parking lot.

It was noon when they arrived at the entrance to the Kibbutz Ginosar. Sun lit up the orchards and dappled the lake. One of the largest growers of bananas, mangos, and avocados in the country, the kibbutz was a destination tourist resort, providing a view of Lake Kinneret to the west, the Karei Deshe Youth Hostel and some archeological ruins to the north, and the Sapir Pumping Station just beyond. At noon, almost everyone was at lunch or serving lunch. The timing was perfect for Ganani’s friend to smuggle them in.

She left them with a spread of fruit, vegetables, and cheese in the one-story, sprawling nursery facility that housed the lab and sat on the northern edge of the kibbutz. While they ate, Jordan laid out the plan.

Ganani pushed back her plate. “You’re crazy. We should ambush them on their way in.”

“My plan will work.” At least Jordan hoped it would. “We have no idea how many they’ll bring, and it’s our best chance for rescuing Lucy. Someone will know where she is.”

Taylor rose and walked to the window. Jordan knew his thoughts were with his daughter, but at least he was here. He played a crucial role in the plan, and they needed to keep him onboard.

“It is a suicide mission,” Ganani said.

“It’s the only way.” Jordan looked to Walker and Haddid for support. They’d been over it. There wasn’t a better option.

“Jordan’s right,” Walker said. “It all comes down to the timing.”

Ganani crossed to where the blueprints were spread out on a table. “Explain it to me again.”

Jordan joined her, pointing to the end of the roadway leading to Sapir Pumping Station. “Haddid will be stationed here. He’ll give you a heads up when he sees them approach, then provide you with backup.”

Ganani looked like she’d swallowed a roach. “I don’t need backup.”

“I hope not.” Jordan pointed to a spot across the road from the main entrance. “You will be here. This should give you clear vision of the guardhouse, the entrances to two of the access tunnels, and the doors leading into the main building. You want to avoid shooting anyone.”

“Where is the fun?”

That evoked a chuckle from Taylor.

“Walker will be here, manning the computers,” Jordan said. “He’s the only one who can shut down the pumps. The files we accessed by e-mail gave us the override codes. He’s already hacked the computers. Once he turns the motors off, the hatches on top of the cistern will unlock and we can get into the main room. On his command, Taylor and I will go up through the pipes in the lake. We’ll have exactly three minutes. After that, the backup generators will kick in, relocking the hatches. It’s all in the timing. The biggest danger is entering the pipe openings while the pumps are still running.”

Ganani looked between Taylor and Jordan. “How long has it been since either of you have dived?”

“Five years for me,” Taylor said, his back still to them.

“One,” said Jordan.

“And you think you’re ready for this?”

Taylor turned away from the window. “I’m good. This is who we have. I know my shit, and I trust Jordan knows hers.”

Jordan nodded. “The pipes are five hundred thirty meters long. By all calculations, it will take us five minutes and forty seconds to swim.”

“Maybe longer,” Walker said. “It takes the average swimmer thirty seconds to swim a fifty-meter lap.”

“And it’s not like you’re going to be in a pool.” Ganani was clearly in the
this-idea-is-crazy
camp.

“Let’s just agree that it’s possible,” Jordan said. “Based on the flow rate of the water being sucked into the pump, if we swim with the pump suction, we shave two minutes off our time.”

“Approximately,” said Walker.

Jordan glared at him.

“I’m just saying.”

Jordan turned back to Ganani. “The diciest part is shutting down the pumps.”

“If you can do that, why can’t the colonel?” Ganani asked.

“It wouldn’t do him any good.” Taylor walked back to the table. “Shutting down the system is just a temporary measure.”

Ganani looked to Walker for confirmation.

“The pumps have a fail-safe generator system that kicks on once the main power source is deactivated,” Walker explained. “That’s where I work my magic.” He swiveled his chair away from the computer and locked his hands behind his head. “I stop the pumps before Jordan and Judge Taylor get all the way to the cistern.”

“Or what?” Ganani asked.

“Or we get sucked into the impeller.” Jordan was getting tired of the negativity. “Do you have a better idea? I’m open for suggestions.”

Ganani didn’t say anything.

“This is our best option, so let’s get on with it.” Jordan pointed back to the map. “On Walker’s signal, Taylor and I will swim
along the pipe to the entrance. It will take approximately seven minutes.”

She dared Walker to contradict her. He surrendered, and she continued.

“There is a screen we’ll have to cut off. Add another minute. At the eight-minute mark, we’ll enter the pipe. Based on the calculations of the flow rate, exactly three minutes later, at the eleven-minute mark, Walker will shut down the motors. That leaves us with seventy meters to go. It should take one-and-a-half minutes to swim into the cistern and find the ladder, leaving us one-and-a-half minutes to get through the panel hatch before the generators kick in and the hatch relocks.”

“And if you don’t get through?” Ganani asked.

“You’ll find us either shredded or hanging on the ladders when you come to rescue us,” said Jordan.

“Do you have all the equipment you need?” Ganani asked.

“Yes.”

Ganani’s eyes met Jordan’s and held. “You’re sure this will work?”

“Not at all.”