diagram on the center console as he spoke. “Okay, it’s pretty straightforward. There’s only one
front entrance, but the interior is surprisingly large. As soon as you go in you have a seating area
on the right, four pool tables on the left. Past that is the bar, facing the door. I know for a fact
that the owner keeps a sawed-off shotgun under the counter, double-barreled.” Ryan didn’t like
that piece of information, and the DEA agent registered his concern. “I know, I know. I’ll watch
that. There’s no need for you to announce yourself. I’ll go in loud and let them know who I am.
Since they’ve seen me before, they’ll be less likely to come up firing.”
“What are you carrying?”
North pulled a long case out from behind his seat and opened it halfway.
“Jesus, what the hell is that thing?”
“It’s an M4 Super 90. Benelli only makes them available to law enforcement. Pretty imposing,
huh? The telescopic stock helps to compensate for the size, and it fires on semiautomatic. The
drawback is that it only holds five rounds, but I’m loading slugs. If I have to pull the trigger,
nobody’s going to lift a finger afterward. I tried to get my boss to spring for a custom version
chambered for seven, but the number crunchers over at Justice didn’t like the cost.”
“I think what you have will do the job. Naomi needs something. Do you have a backup piece?”
North looked concerned. “Yeah, but that’s it. Without it, you can only count on me for five
rounds.”
“Believe me,” Ryan replied, “if you need more than that, we’re already in trouble.”
Naomi emerged from the restroom, the anger gone from her face. Kealey was relieved; she was
going to need her mind clear in a few minutes. She had changed into a tight T-shirt and a pair of
low-slung jeans. The new outfit was more practical, but did nothing less to show off her
admirable figure. As she got back into the truck, North went on with his explanation.
“So that’s the only front entrance. You see what I’m talking about, Kharmai? Okay, good. Now,
the bathroom is over here adjacent to the bar, so you can keep an eye on both at the same time.
The door to the stockroom is shielded from view, but you should have time to react if anyone
comes out. There are no windows in the bathroom, so you don’t have to worry about our guy
getting out that way.
“Here’s what I’m thinking: I’ll go in first unarmed to make sure that Elgin is there. If he is, and
he should be, then I’ll come out to collect my weapon. Naomi, I already explained to Ryan that
I’m going in loud. You don’t need to say anything. You head to the front and keep an eye on this
blind spot.” He pointed to the diagram and she nodded her head in understanding. The DEA
agent turned to Ryan. “You want to get him out of there quick. Like I said, this is not a friendly
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place. I’ve spent a lot of time in there recently, and even I can’t always tell who’s carrying. You
should make it clear that we are only there for Elgin. Otherwise you’ll get some asshole with a
warrant out in Idaho pulling down on you from behind.” He searched their faces. “Are you sure
you want to go ahead with this?”
“Definitely. The longer we wait, the greater the chance that he catches on and we lose him. It’s
now or never,” was Kealey’s decisive response. Naomi looked a little less eager.
North grinned. “My kind of man. Let’s go.”
He put the heavy truck into gear and they drove on down to the docks. North dug out his
backup piece and handed it to Ryan, who in turn checked the chamber and passed it to Naomi,
butt first.
“This is a Glock 29. You have nine rounds plus one in the chamber, okay? It doesn’t have an
external safety. All you have to do is squeeze the trigger.” Turning to North: “That’s your
backup?” He made a show of looking around the interior of the truck. “This thing is like a
mobile armory. Where do you keep the grenade launchers?”
That earned him a brief laugh. It was Ryan’s way, and had been ever since he was a young
platoon leader, to try to ease the tension before heading into harm’s way. A certain amount of
stress and fear was useful, because it kept you sharp. Too much, though, could cause even the
most experienced people to freeze up at the worst possible time. Looking back, he could see the
tension in Naomi’s face, and hoped that she would keep it together long enough to do what was
needed.
“That’s it,” North remarked. They were rolling slowly past a low, cinder block building. The
exterior hadn’t seen new paint in many years, the white coating cracked and missing entirely in
some sections. Blocklike letters in black paint spelled out THE WATERFRONT across the
uppermost part of the building’s face. The windows were streaked with dirt and covered with
rusting steel mesh.
There were only three other cars in the litter-strewn parking lot as North pulled in on the second
pass.
“Do me a favor, Kealey. Pull out that shotgun while I check it out. I’ll be back in a sec.” North
hopped out and ambled toward the entrance. Ryan reached behind the seat and pulled out the
soft case. Keeping it below the passenger window, he opened it and withdrew the Benelli. It was
3 1?2 feet in length, the barrel alone accounting for almost 19 inches. Looking back, he noticed
that Naomi’s eyes were wide at the sight of the weapon.
“Don’t worry,” he said as he checked the breech to verify that it was fully loaded. He turned
awkwardly in his seat to face her, but her eyes were darting away. “Naomi, look at me.”
She finally met his gaze. When she reached up to brush her hair back from her face, Kealey saw
that her hand was shaking. “You’re going to be fine,” he said. “I need you to be focused in there.
Just watch the bathroom door and my back, don’t worry about Elgin. I know what I’m doing,
okay? You have to trust me.”
“Hey,” she said, her eyes suddenly flaring. “I’m not scared, Ryan, and I don’t need your help. I
can bloody well take care of myself.”
Kealey lifted an eyebrow, but didn’t say anything in response.
North came out of the bar moving slowly at first, then faster as he approached the vehicle. Ryan
pushed the door open.
“We’re good to go. He’s sitting at the bar, blue jeans and a black long-sleeved shirt. You’ve seen
a picture?” They both nodded in the affirmative. “Okay, let’s move.”
Kealey handed him the Benelli, and North checked the breech instinctively. That small gesture
gave Ryan added confidence in the ability of the young DEA agent as they moved quickly
forward, Ryan’s Beretta low by his side as he trailed behind the bigger man.
They were inside.
North moved to the left as soon as he cleared the doorway to make room for the two CIA
officers following a half step behind. His shotgun was up, traversing the room and he was
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shouting: “DEA! Get on the ground! I said, GET ON THE GROUND!”
Most of the people in the room froze at the sight of the big agent and the semiautomatic
shotgun that he held. Then they were falling to the floor as Ryan came up low between the tables.
The bartender’s hands dropped under the counter as he watched the approaching agents.
“Don’t do it!” Ryan shouted. “This is not about you! Get your hands in the open!”
He could see the hesitation in the old man’s grizzled face as he reached the bar. Naomi was
facing away from Elgin as she approached, her attention entirely focused on the bathroom…
And then Elgin was up and moving fast, but Ryan couldn’t take his aim away from the
bartender. Elgin with a knife out, turning Naomi around and the knife tight against her throat,
her body between the two men.
Elgin whispering into her ear, the eyes cold and empty.
Naomi, the Glock loose by her side, her eyes wide and locked onto Ryan’s.
No time to decide as the bartender brought the 12 gauge up and Ryan dropped to the ground,
the Beretta swinging left across his body as he fired. The bullet plowed a shallow furrow across
Naomi’s thigh before it ripped into Elgin’s left kneecap. Over his head, the shotguns booming in
unison, glass shattering into thousands of pieces behind the bar. Elgin screamed in agony as the
knife moved away from Naomi’s throat and she turned, dragging him down by the hair, the
muzzle of the Glock pressed against his head.
Then they were both on the ground, Naomi turning him so he lay facedown as she straddled him
from behind and kept the pistol jammed into the base of his neck. The bar erupted as the small
group of people rushed for the front door. Ryan stood up to look over the counter and could
see the bartender on the ground, a half-inch hole in his chest, the body surrounded by thousands
of shards of bloody glass. Turning, he was relieved to see that North wasn’t hit, the shotgun
dangling in his right hand as he walked up.
“He got a round off?”
“Into the counter, I think. He didn’t get it up all the way,” North replied. Ryan turned his
attention to Naomi. The pistol hadn’t moved from Elgin’s head. Her eyes were glazed over, her
face pale.
“Naomi, it’s over,” he said in a soft voice as he gently pulled the pistol from her outstretched
hand. Her leg was bleeding badly, but she didn’t seem to notice the pain.
“Get some pressure on that, North. I think she’s in shock. I need to talk to this bastard.” Ryan
grabbed Elgin’s shirt collar and dragged the injured man toward the stockroom, ignoring the
screams of pain as he pulled him over the floor littered with broken glass.
The rear of the building was a large, dark room stacked floor to ceiling with crates. Ryan
propped Elgin up against the cool stone wall next to the door and searched him quickly but
thoroughly. Satisfied that he had no other weapons, Ryan moved back into the bar and picked
up the man’s knife.
“What the hell are you doing?” North demanded. He had located a first aid kit and was working
on Naomi’s leg.
North’s eyes moved up from the weapon in the other man’s hand to Ryan’s face. The young
DEA agent, several inches taller and 90 pounds heavier, abruptly shut his mouth and looked
away. Ryan walked back toward the stockroom, his knuckles white around the rubber grip of the
knife.
Thomas Elgin was leaning against the wall just as Ryan had left him, his breath coming in short,
fast spurts. He looked up as Kealey entered the room, eyes defiant as he clutched his ruined leg.
“Fuck you want, asshole?” he snarled.
Without saying a word, Ryan crouched and pushed the first inch-and-a-half of the knife into
Elgin’s chest. He was rewarded by a shriek of agony as he twisted the handle to make the wound
more difficult to close and to encourage blood flow. Ryan was well aware that he didn’t have a
lot of time, and guessed that Elgin would be more motivated to talk if the hole in his chest was
leaking at a steady rate.
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In a low, menacing voice, he said, “I need some fast answers from you.”
“What do you want, you sick fuck!” Elgin screamed, twisting his body, desperately trying to get
away from the knife. Kealey obliged and pulled it out of his chest. The injured man’s words
didn’t seem to have any effect on him, though. This time, the serrated edge scraped across the
protruding bone of Elgin’s mangled kneecap.
In the other room, Special Agent Adam North of the DEA shuddered as another unearthly
scream echoed throughout the building. The howl of pain almost managed to drown out the
sound of the approaching sirens as North finished applying the improvised pressure bandage to
Kharmai’s thigh. She was starting to come around now, a spark visible in her large green eyes as
her mouth moved in an attempt to speak.
“Take it easy,” he said. “You’re okay now. You did a great job.” It was a sincere compliment.
For an intelligence analyst to be thrown into this kind of situation and react the way she did was
an amazing thing. The sirens grew louder and the door burst open, paramedics swarming into
the building. They were followed closely by officers from the Norfolk and Portsmouth police
departments and a number of Virginia state troopers. As soon as they came through the front
door, Ryan emerged from the stockroom, his face an impassive mask.
As the police officers secured the building, several returned from the back room with pale faces
and immediately looked in Kealey’s direction. Confusion seemed to rule the day, but it wasn’t
long before a consensus was reached, and a nervous officer put handcuffs on Ryan Kealey at the
behest of the person now in charge, Captain Gina Nolan of the Norfolk Police Department.
CHAPTER 13
NORFOLK
“What the hell were you thinking, Ryan?”
Kealey and Harper were seated in the sterile interrogation room at Norfolk Police
Headquarters. The irony was not lost on Ryan as the DDO questioned him from across the cold
metal table. “I had to pull a lot of strings to get you out of this. I thought I told you to use kid
gloves. Does that phrase mean anything to you?”
Kealey’s gaze drifted across the bare walls as the other man glared in his direction. “I realize it
didn’t turn out the way we—”
“Ryan,” Harper’s voice lowered, even though the door was closed and there was no one else in
the room. “Elgin had a lot to say about you. If he starts talking to the press, even the director
won’t be able to contain the shit storm. Rightfully, this operation should have landed on the
DEA’s doorstep. You went too far with him.”
Kealey looked to the upper corner of the room and saw that the camera used to monitor
interrogations was disconnected, the wires hanging loose against the wall. He wondered why he
had checked. “You said that the president cleared this, John. I did what was necessary.”
“Bullshit!” Harper tossed several photographs onto the table. “Pictures don’t lie. The Bureau
can’t pressure Elgin because we have this hanging over our heads. In other words, we can’t force
his hand because you took away our only leverage.”
“John—”
Harper held up his hand to silence the younger man. He stared at Ryan intently for a moment
before quickly looking away. “Ryan, you went too far,” he repeated. The anger was gone from
his voice, replaced by a weary resignation. “The director wants you out, and he’s going to get his
wish if Elgin doesn’t open up. The State Department sent some people over to talk to the little
bastard, but so far they’re coming up empty. I need you to give me some good news, because
I’ve called in all my debts.”
“The boat that the explosives came in on is called Natalia; it’s a 25,000-ton container ship
