Double Impact: Never Say Die & No Way Back by Tess Gerritsen, Debra Webb Page A

“He called himself a military attaché.”
    â€œMeaning he was really CIA.”
    â€œMeaning any number of things. I was liaison for French Intelligence, and I was told only the minimum. That was the way the colonel worked, you see. For him, information was power. He shared very little of it.”
    â€œWhat do you know about the crash?”
    Gerard shrugged. “They called it ‘a routine loss.’ Hostile fire. A search was called at the insistence of the other pilots, but no survivors were found. After a day, Colonel Kistner put out the order to melt any wreckage. I don’t know if the order was ever executed.”
    Willy shook her head. “Melt?”
    â€œThat’s jargon for destroy,” explained Guy. “They do it whenever a plane goes down during a classified mission. To get rid of the evidence.”
    â€œBut my father wasn’t flying a classified mission. It was a routine supply flight.”
    â€œThey were all listed as routine supply flights,” said Gerard.
    â€œThe cargo manifest listed aircraft parts,” said Guy. “Not a reason to melt the plane. What was really on that flight?”
    Gerard didn’t answer.
    â€œThere was a passenger,” Willy said. “They were carrying a passenger.”
    Gerard’s gaze snapped toward her. “Who told you this?”
    â€œLuis Valdez, Dad’s cargo kicker. He bailed out as the plane went down.”
    â€œYou spoke to this man Valdez?”
    â€œIt was only a short phone call, right after he was released from the POW camp.”
    â€œThen…he is still alive?”
    She shook her head. “He shot himself the day after he got back to the States.”
    Gerard began to pace around the room again, touching each piece of furniture. He reminded her of a greedy gnome fingering his treasures.
    â€œWho was the passenger, Gerard?” asked Guy.
    Gerard picked up a lacquer box, set it back down again.
    â€œMilitary? Intelligence? What?”
    Gerard stopped pacing. “He was a phantom, Mr. Barnard.”
    â€œMeaning you don’t know his name?”
    â€œOh, he had many names, many faces. A rumor always does. Some said he was a general. Or a prince. Or a drug lord.” Turning, he stared out the curtain slit, a shriveled silhouette against the glow of light. “Whoever he was, he represented a threat to someone in a high place.”
    Someone in a high place. Willy thought of the intrigue that must have swirled in Vientiane, 1970. She thought of Air America and Defense Intelligence and the CIA. Who among all those players would have felt threatened by this one unnamed Lao?
    â€œWho do you think he was, Mr. Gerard?” she asked.
    The silhouette at the window shrugged. “It makes no difference now. He’s dead. Everyone on that plane is dead.”
    â€œMaybe not all of them. My father—”
    â€œYour father has not been seen in twenty years. And if I were you, I would leave well enough alone.”
    â€œBut if he’s alive—”
    â€œIf he’s alive, he may not wish to be found.” Gerard turned and looked at her, his expression hidden against the backglow of the window. “A man with a price on his head has good reason to stay dead.”

CHAPTER FIVE
    S HE STARED at him. “A price? I don’t understand.”
    â€œYou mean no one has told you about the bounty?”
    â€œBounty for what?”
    â€œFor the arrest of Friar Tuck.”
    She fell instantly still. An image took shape in her mind: words typed on a file folder. Operation Friar Tuck. Declassified. She turned to Guy. “You know what he’s talking about, don’t you. Who’s Friar Tuck?”
    Guy’s expression was unreadable, as if a mask had fallen over his face. “It’s nothing but a story.”
    â€œBut you had his file in your room.”
    â€œIt’s just a nickname for a renegade pilot. A