Bad Faith

7

Jaxon rushed to the railing next to where Blanchett lay looking through the scope of his rifle. “What have you got?” he asked, lifting the binoculars he had hanging around his neck.

“Not sure but there’s a lot of movement and they appear to be arguing, or at least making a lot of aggressive-looking hand gestures,” Blanchett replied.

“They’re fighting,” Lucy confirmed. “One of them just called and said they wanted to give up, but then the phone went dead-”

At that moment, a shot rang out across the water. “That wasn’t at any of us,” Blanchett said. “I think there’s a mutiny-”

Suddenly, a man jumped from near the terrorist boat’s cabin onto the bow carrying a long tubular device.

“Rocket grenade!” Blanchett yelled.

“Take him out, Ned!” Jaxon shouted back.

The words were hardly out of his mouth before Blanchett’s M40A3 sniper rifle boomed. The man on the bow of the cabin cruiser reacted as though attached to an invisible wire that jerked him backward and off the boat.

The 7.62-millimeter bullet reached him not a moment too soon as while falling, he pulled the trigger on his weapon, launching a rocket-propelled grenade. However, having a hole blown in his chest destroyed his aim and the grenade soared almost straight up before plummeting down harmlessly into the water.

Everything was quiet for a moment, and then all hell broke loose. The cabin cruiser’s engines roared to life and the boat surged forward toward the ferry. Those on board began firing at all the police vessels, the gunboat, the police helicopter, and the ferry.

A burst of automatic fire stitched its way across the water and up the side of the ferry, passing only a few feet from where Jaxon stood. At the same time, a rocket was fired from the cruiser, striking one of the police vessels, which erupted in a ball of fire.

The response was furious. The Coast Guard gunboat opened up with its fifty-caliber, tearing chunks out of the cruiser as it roared across the water toward the ferry. The police officers on the smaller boats also joined in the shooting gallery while trying to run interference for the ferry.

Someone aboard the terrorist boat aimed at the news helicopter and opened fire. Struck, the helicopter began to bellow thick dark smoke and spun out of control into the water.

On board the ferry, the NIDSA agents fired away with their handguns while Blanchett’s big gun boomed again and again.

Jaxon glanced over at where Lucy had been standing when the shooting started and was horrified to see her lying on the deck, bleeding from an apparent shoulder wound. She was trying to help a NIDSA agent who lay motionless on the ground next to her, a pool of blood growing beneath him. Blanchett looked over at the same time and stopped shooting.

“I’ve got her, Ned,” Jaxon yelled, and ran to Lucy even as more automatic rifle fire raked the ferry, clanging off steel and whistling overhead.

“I’m okay,” Lucy yelled. “Just nicked.” She looked back at the agent she’d been trying to help. “But I think he’s gone.”

Blanchett’s expression turned from concern to anger as he nodded and began to shoot again, the big gun’s bullets punching hole after hole into the cruiser’s cabin and taking out gunmen whenever they appeared.

The battle ended as quickly as it began. Thousands of rounds had been exchanged, and the cabin cruiser was again dead in the water, only now there was black smoke pouring from it and a small fire was visible in the rear. The men on board had stopped shooting, though none could be seen.

Ascertaining that Lucy was not in any immediate danger from her wound, Jaxon moved to the railing and studied the terrorist vessel through his binoculars. He was still watching when a man on the cruiser dove into the water and another man ran to the rail and shot the diver. Blanchett immediately dispatched the shooter.

The Coast Guard vessel swept in closer. “Throw down your weapons and raise your hands,” a voice demanded over the gunboat’s loudspeakers.

Jaxon saw several men start to comply. He and everyone else around him began to relax as the police vessels cautiously moved toward the terrorists. Resistance appeared to be over.

Lucy, who’d picked herself up and was listening in again, yelled, “They want to surrender! I think-”

Suddenly, the terrorist boat erupted in a massive fireball that also consumed the police vessel closest to it. The heat and concussion could be felt on the ferry, still fifty yards away. Then all that remained was debris, some of which was still falling out of the sky, and small oil fires on the surface of the water. There were no signs of any survivors.

Jaxon heard the ferry door behind him open and turned to see Capers leading Malovo out, joined by Rolles and her partner, Masterson. “They do that or us?” Capers asked.

“Them,” Jaxon replied. “We weren’t shooting when it happened.” He slapped his hand on the railing. “Damn it, I would have liked to take those guys in and see if we could get them to talk. This was pretty sophisticated, media-savvy planning, and I’d like to know who was behind it.”

Malovo, who’d been looking with satisfaction at the debris on the water, shrugged. “Good riddance, no?” she said. “Besides, maybe the other two will be able to tell you something.” Capers turned to Malovo, who was looking at the fires burning on the water with a satisfied grin. The assassin laughed. “There’s just something about death that turns me on,” she purred. “Is it the same for you?” she asked, turning to meet Capers’s gaze.

Eyes blazing, Capers swung Malovo around and cuffed her wrists behind her. “Yeah, well, you’re going to have to take care of that all by yourself in a cell tonight.”

Malovo laughed again. “It would not be the first time, my beautiful friend, but perhaps someday we can let the men yell while we help each other with such things?”

“Not on your life,” Capers shot back. “There wouldn’t be enough hot water in the world to get the stench off.”

The smile disappeared from Malovo’s face for a moment, but then her eyes glittered and she grinned. “Perhaps someday we will take a shower together and find out, no?”

As they disappeared into the interior of the ferry, Jaxon looked over at Lucy, who was frowning and looking at the water where the terrorist boat had been. “What is it, Lucy?” he asked as he walked over.

“I’m not sure,” she replied. “I’ll talk to you about it later.”

Late that afternoon, Jaxon arrived in a dark sedan at a private entrance on the Hogan Place side of the Criminal Courts Building in downtown Manhattan. Clay Fulton was waiting for him there and escorted him to the elevator. They took it to the eighth floor and the anteroom that led directly into the inner office of the New York district attorney.

“I take it you’ve seen the news,” Jaxon said when he opened the door and saw Karp waiting for him.

“Yeah, caught it this morning and a few dozen replays since,” Karp replied. “Just got back from Beth Israel Hospital. Lucy’s lucky the bullet didn’t hit any organs or major blood vessels.” He paused for a few moments. “So everything went down like you told me it was going to.”

“Yeah, pretty much,” Jaxon responded. “I was hoping we could take more prisoners.”

“What’s the body count?” Karp asked.

“Not sure on their side, maybe a dozen,” Jaxon responded. “We lost five police officers, two more badly burned, and one federal agent-the guy who’d been next to Lucy. Also, the pilot of the news helicopter is in serious condition, though the reporter seems to have gotten away with nothing worse than a dunking.”

“Could have been worse,” Karp noted.

“Much worse,” Jaxon agreed. “If we weren’t able to intercept these guys, it would have been a catastrophe. Hundreds dead. A big public-relations coup for al-Qaeda.”

“So we owe Malovo our thanks?” Karp asked, shaking his head.

“I wouldn’t go that far,” Jaxon replied. “She’s looking out for number one, herself.”

“I’d rather be prosecuting her for murder and putting her on death row,” Karp said.

“I won’t argue with you there.”

“You know she can’t be trusted.”

Jaxon sighed and nodded. “Funny, but you’re not the first one to say that to me today.”