Out of the Storm (25 page)

Bobby saw him and waved, managing a weak smile between grimaces. Eric came to the ambulance where his friend was being hovered over by a pretty EMT.

“You all right?” Eric shouted over the din.

“Fine, boss.” He nodded toward Ashley. “Go check her.”

“Be right back,” he nodded to the paramedic and touched his friend’s shoulder as he ran toward Ashley.

Arriving next to the stretcher that held Ashley, he stopped suddenly. She lay motionless. An IV drip was attached to her left arm and the EMT was applying pressure to a wound on her body. Small patches of blood had soaked through her polo shirt. Icy shivers ran down Eric’s spine as he thought of the nightmare just a year ago. If there was a God, and Eric wanted desperately to believe, he couldn’t be that cruel. Snatching another woman he loved in such a violent fashion.

“What’s going on?” Eric demanded. “Is she gonna be okay?”

The young man nodded. “Sure. From what they tell me she was the closest to the blast. Guess she was facing toward the docks that blew when…” He stopped in mid-sentence. The young man looked at Eric’s marina shirt. “You work here?”

“Yeah.” Eric reached down and took Ashley’s cool, damp hand in his, caressing it. “I own the place.”

“Sorry. I didn’t know.” He turned his attention to Ashley who groaned softly and opened her eyes, finding Eric’s.

“No sweat,” Eric told the EMT and bent over Ashley. Her large eyes looked vacant and unfocused as she stared up him.

“Eric? Is that really you?” She gave his hand a fragile squeeze. Ashley tried to lift her head. “Told you…tried to warn…” Her head fell onto the small pillow as she closed her eyes again.

“We gave her morphine for the pain and Valium to help her relax.” He motioned to his assistant. They tightened the restraints and hefted the gurney, placing it in its cradle on the ambulance.

“Relax?” Eric was confused.

The young man nodded on his way to the passenger door. “Yeah. She was really agitated. Kept mumbling something, calling out a name.” He shrugged. “You Eric?”

“Yeah.”

“She kept calling you. May be the concussion.” He shrugged again as he got in. “She’ll be at the Cape Cod Hospital. Should be up and around in a couple of days. Just a lot of scrapes from the blast debris. Looks worse than it is.” The EMT closed his door and looked at Eric. “Sorry about all this. Good luck,” he threw back as they sped away, leaving a trail of gravel.

Eric gave the ambulance an absent wave and got out his cell as he headed back to Bobby. No Kylie, but Louise was going to take her home, wasn’t she? If anything had happened to her he’d…

“Lu?” he said quickly when she answered. “Kylie. Is she with you right now? Is she all right?”

“Next to me. We were just heading to the store.” Her words sounded hesitant, questioning. “Why?”

Eric gave her a quick description of the chaos he saw in front of him.

Silence, then, “Oh my God, Eric. I’m so sorry.” Louise whispered. Kylie asked questions in the background. “Just a minute, honey,” Lu said patiently.

“Answer her questions. I gotta talk to Bobby and the police and fire departments to find out what happened here.”

“Okay. We’ll stay here. I’ll try to figure out something to tell you-know-who,” she told him. “Ricky, be careful. I got a bad feeling about this.”

“Thanks, Lu. I will—be careful, that is.” He looked at the chaos, inhaling the pungent fragrance of burned wood coated with creosote. “And Louise. Please. You be careful, too. Go home and lock the doors. I’m calling my friend at the Dennis PD. I’ll keep my phone in my pocket. If anything looks out of line, call 9-1-1 right away.”

“Should I be frightened?”

“No,” he lied. “It’ll be fine,” Eric promised her. “I’ll call if I get anything else.”

As Eric closed his cell he saw Carson and his men coming across the parking lot. Carson motioned him over.

“Thanks. For taking care of the Bertram, I mean. You handled the tie-up like a pro.” Eric shook his head. “I think your cover’s blown.”

“Not to these folks. They’re too busy trying to keep things under control.”

Eric nodded and took the older man’s arm. “Look, I got a strange feeling about this. Could have been a spark and a faulty bilge fan but all this damage from one small boat going up?” Eric shook his head. “And Ashley was saying something…”

Carson held up his hand. “Don’t bother. I told you. I don’t believe in coincidences. This was a message. More dramatic than I would have expected, but I’m on it. I called from the boat. One of our team is already headed to your house and we have someone following Ashley to the hospital.”

Eric looked behind him. “I thought this was your team.”

Carson looked at the two men behind him. Both wore grins.

“Hell, son, I got more people here and if I need ’em, I’ll roust the whole fucking Boston FBI field office. You have no idea what you fell into the middle of.” He motioned to his men as he gave Eric a business card. “We’re at the Red Jacket. On the beach. My cell is on the back. We’ll let you get this mess straightened out. I want you to call me—often. Call your mother-in-law—Louise, right?”

Eric nodded.

“Tell her she’s gonna have a visitor.” Looking back at the destruction, Carson paused and nodded to Jack. “More likely two.”

“Hey,” Eric called out. “What about Ralph?”

“He’s gone dark.” Carson shook his head. “Left a strong trail for these bastards to follow to keep them from the girls.”

Ralph was not only a first-class spook, he was a goddamned heroic SOB. This was getting weird.

“Remember, call me.” Carson patted Eric lightly on the back and the three men trotted to their Cadillac Escalade. These guys travelled in style.

Chapter Thirty-Two

The two men in gray sweatshirts and camo pants returned to the nondescript Ford sedan hidden near the desolate stretch of beach.

“Everything went off without a hitch, sir,” the larger of the two said into his cell.

“Good,” the Director whispered.

“The device did exactly as we expected,” the man assured his boss as he scanned the deserted section of beach and eel-grass surrounding them.

“Really?” the Director asked evenly. “And how many vessels were destroyed?”

“Two, maybe three. Hard to tell till the smoke clears.”

“Two or three.” The Director sighed. Was there anyone he worked with who had the vaguest idea of how to carry out an assignment as instructed? “One small explosion would have sent a signal to the girl. We could have used it as leverage. The last thing she wants is to see harm come to her daughter or her new family.”

“But, sir, it was hard…”

“I’m sure it was, Captain. Obviously more difficult than you and your partner are capable of!” The Director raised his voice. “Instead of what everyone would interpret as an accident you’ve created a damn catastrophe. The police, fire marshal, and everyone else who’s bored on Cape Cod will be all over this.”

“But, sir…”

“Shut up.” He did his best to mitigate his anger. These fools may have destroyed any chance of Firestorm bearing fruit. “Their technicians are no fools. If you were as sloppy as I suspect, they may find traces of the sonic detonator and who knows what else.”

A long silence ensued.

“By six o’clock this will be everywhere: the national news, the Internet—some bastard probably has video. Your little display will be viral.”

There was nothing he could do about it now but regroup, find a way to see their mission was carried out. But not with these fools.

“All right,” he spoke quietly into the silent phone. “Get back here ASAP. Independence Day is only five weeks away and we have final preparations to make.”

A whispered, “Yes, sir,” was followed by a long silence.

The Director hung up in frustration. He needed good people. So far he’d found no one save his inner circle worthy of his trust and except for himself none of the other senior officers were capable of field ops.

****

The two men who’d executed the mission at the marina looked at each other. Both wore doubt on their faces and fear in their eyes. What had begun as a glorious quest to bring the country to its senses had become a one-man crusade, a battle of wits between the Director and a surprisingly bright and resourceful young woman. At first they assumed she may have discovered the Director’s plans and identity by accident. Now, this whole adventure was assuming the character of a vendetta.

“Let’s get the hell out of here,” the larger man said as he backed the car up and turned abruptly. He looked at the other man, his comrade and friend of twenty years. “I don’t like this. Not one bit.”

“I’m with you. The boss has gone off the deep end.” The other nodded. “We’ve both got some resources stashed in the Cayman Islands. Let’s just get the hell out of here and keep on going.”

“That’s what I’m thinking.” He looked at the carnage in the rearview mirror. “I’m up for a crusade, but suicide and murder for no reason is just plain stupid.”

His friend nodded.

They headed up the narrow, sandy trail they’d taken in, heading for the pavement. Suddenly, a cell phone rang. They looked at each other. Both had their smart phones in their pockets. The hollow ring tone came from the glove box. A flash lit up the sky for a mile as the Ford exploded into a thousand pieces, taking its passengers and their secrets with it.

Chapter Thirty-Three

“What happened here?” Eric asked as he watched the blond EMT fussing over Bobby. “Tell me about Ashley!” he demanded, his stomach in knots. “How did she get hurt?”

“They said she’ll be okay.” Bobby placated him as he took Eric’s arm and they headed toward the office. His friend had a large wrap around his thigh, and favored the bandaged leg. The young woman tending to Bobby protested as he began to walk away. “I’m fine,” he told her, shaking off her attempts at attention. She shook her head as he followed Eric to the picnic bench. “Ashley’s a tough lady. She was just in the wrong place at the wrong time.”

“I’m not so sure.” He watched the emergency personnel cleaning up the mess. “Was anyone hurt badly?”

Bobby’s eyes studied the picnic table. “Rocco. The college kid,” his friend whispered.

Eric shrugged. “I didn’t see him. Is he in the hospital?”

Bobby gripped Eric’s forearm tightly. “He’s dead.”

Eric slumped like he’d taken a shot to the gut. “Dead?” he repeated quietly.

Bobby nodded. “A couple of customers and one of the mechanics were banged around pretty bad, but they’re okay.” He nodded to the parking lot where another emergency vehicle was serving as s field hospital.

“What the fuck happened, Bob?”

“Damned if I know. Rocco was at the end of dock four, bringing one of the boats over to be hauled out, I heard the engine start, and then all hell broke loose.” He shook his head in frustration and anger. “Thought we were back in the Afghani mountains again.”

They sat quietly side by side facing the destruction on the docks. No, Carson was right. Whoever had done this was sending a message.
Come to us or all hell’s gonna break loose.
But Eric was pretty sure they’d miscalculated. Too much firepower. Way too much. This wasn’t a message, it was a damn Federal disaster area.

Bobby sighed and looked away. “Fred Markham asked us to check his prop. The old Larson 26 we had on dock three. Said he hit bottom on Friday and was getting cavitations.” He pointed to the smoldering wood and debris.

Eric nodded as he studied the damage. Dock three was history. A few of the ten boats tied up were as well. Too early to tell how many.

“And…” Eric raised his hands.

“It’s crazy.” Bobby exhaled and looked toward the remains of the dock. “Rocco was always asking to do more than run the fuel pumps so I figured he couldn’t do any harm. Hell, it was a hundred yards from the slip to the lift cradle.”

“I got it,” Eric agreed, patting his friend on the forearm.

Bobby was staring blankly at some invisible image. “I was heading toward the office, about a hundred feet away when he called me. ‘Thanks,’ he yelled and turned the fucking key.” Bobby’s head sank. He swallowed. “All the Harbor Patrol guys found was his baseball cap.”

Eric studied him. “I don’t know what to say. But I know you didn’t cause that explosion.”

Bobby let out a breath and hung his head. “When I close my eyes all I can see is that kid standing there, waving at me.”

“It could have been you, or any of us,” Eric whispered.

“I know. Maybe that’s what’s spooking me. But this isn’t Iraq or Afghanistan, Ricky.” He shook his head again violently. “He was a kid from town doin’ a summer job.”

As Eric put his hand on Bobby’s shoulder, he looked at the disaster playing out before them. His friend was right. This wasn’t a war zone. But what he was witnessing looked familiar. Too damn familiar.

When Bobby turned, his eyes glistened. They wore a vacant look as he studied the horizon. “Just a kid doin’ his summer job,” he repeated quietly.

Someone approached rapidly on the gravel. “Mr. Montgomery?”

Eric turned at the tap on his shoulder. A tall, middle-aged man with a ruddy complexion and thick torso stood next to an attractive, slender young woman. The man wore dark blue trousers and a white, short-sleeved shirt, the woman the uniform of a State Police officer.

“I’m Eric Montgomery.”

“Chief Elliot, from the Yarmouth Fire Department. I’ve heard your name.” The man found Eric’s eyes and held out his hand. “Sorry we have to meet like this.”

Eric stood. He held out his hand and shook the chief’s. “Hello.” Eric nodded.

“This is Stacy Birch. A state police inspector. Her team handles investigations in this district when a fire and explosion is involved. They’re attached to the state fire marshal’s office.”

Eric looked closer at the young woman. Her thin face sported a dark tan masking a trace of freckles. Thick auburn hair disappeared under her military-style uniform hat. She studied Eric. Stacy was striking, but Eric’s mind was on overload. She pulled a black leather case from her back pocket and let it hang open, showing Eric her badge and ID.