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his fellow spy and formerly his lover.
I raised my Beretta Tomcat. The laser beam hit her dead center between the breasts,
the surest target I could find.
"Daphne, no!" A hand grasped mine and pointed the gun toward the ground. Julie shot
me a look, anguished but filled with loathing, and ran.
"Let her go," Darius said.
I turned my head to look at him. My voice was filled with fury. "Why did you stop me?
She's one of them."
He shook his head. "I couldn't. You have to understand. I couldn't let you do it. No
matter what she is."
But I didn't understand. I didn't understand at all.
The sirens wailed closer. We had to run. I stared at Darius. I felt angry and confused.
"Later," he said, and took off running.
I tried to put what had just happened out of my mind. I needed to get my ass out of
this place. I pushed forward to release the kickstand of my bike, hit the starter, and
raced toward the winding road that would lead me to Fifth Avenue on the west side of
the park.
Within a minute I had the park exit at Seventy second Street in sight. I slowed down,
fearing there would be traffic on the busy avenue even this late at night. That caution
probably saved my life.
As I entered the intersection a white Chevy cut me off. I hit the brakes, skidded, lost
control, and toppled, the bike sliding out from under me. I rolled across the asphalt,
pulling my arms in close to my body, grateful for my leathers. I came to a halt when my
face collided with a pair of black, permanent shine, regulation police department
shoes.
It hurt like hell. I lifted my head and looked up. The bright light of a flashlight struck me
in the face. I winced.
A familiar voice, pissed off more than usual, said, "Miss Urban. I should have known."
"Evening, Lieutenant," I said. "You mind if I stand?"
I got to one knee, my legs wobbling, my body swaying. The lieutenant put his hand
under my arm. He helped me get on my feet. I felt light headed. I pulled off my helmet
and gritted my teeth. I tried to steady the spinning world.
"Miss Urban," the world weary police detective said in a world weary voice. "I hear we
have maybe fifteen dead bodies in the middle of Central Park. May I ask you
something?"
"Uh huh," I answered, all the while thinking, Only fifteen? There have to be at least a
hundred hunters down. So that's what the ambulances were for. My mother planned all
along to remove the dead before the cops arrived.
"Do you think you could tell me" Lieutenant Johnson said sweetly. I winced. I could
see it coming "WHAT THE FUCK IS GOING ON?"
"It's sort of a long story," I said.
"Why don't you get in the back of my car and tell me." It was an order, not a request.
"But my bike& " I protested, looking at my beautiful red Harley Electra lying against a
tree, its front wheel mangled.
"I'll get a uniform to pick it up. But don't expect to get it back. It's evidence."
"Ah, shit, Lieutenant," I began to say, intending to argue with him, when my cell phone
vibrated in my pocket.
"I'd better get this," I said, holding up a finger.
It was Benny on the phone, her voice high and excited. "The Intrepid is on the move.
It's been spotted sailing toward New York Harbor, a couple of miles before the
Verrazano. And, sugar? J says those stupid diplomats think the terrorists are jist a
bringing it back. The air force ain't going to bomb it."
"Ah, shit," I said again.
"Get downtown to the ferry terminal, will you, girlfriend? We have a ship to stop."
I turned to Lieutenant Johnson and gave him an insouciant grin. "Hey, Looie, guess
what? I need a ride."
Chapter 21
"And I will come again, my luve,
Tho' it were ten thousand mile."
Robert Burns, "A Red, Red Rose"
Say what you want about Johnson. He's got no personality, but the man knows his shit.
I told him about the Intrepid. He was a little peeved I hadn't told him the whole story
to begin with. I figured that out when he crushed another Coke can with his hand while
I was talking. But he totally agreed with me when I laid out my reasons for believing
the ship was not just being returned it was rigged to explode once it was inside New
York Harbor.
I also told him what I thought might stop it.
He reached over to the floor by the passenger seat and grabbed the unmarked car's
red police light, leaned out the driver's window, and stuck it on the roof. He flipped on
the siren, put the accelerator to the floor, and headed for Whitehall Street.
He grabbed the handheld radio, muttering to himself all the while, "I bet those sons of
bitches are going after the Statue of Liberty. Sons of bitches!" After that the lieutenant
talked a mile a minute into the radio as he drove all the way downtown like a man
being chased by the devil.
"I know everybody's up at Central Park," I heard him bellowing into the handheld. Hell,
half of New York could have heard him. "Unless you want another goddamn nine
eleven, get every first responder out of there and down to the Staten Island Ferry. And
move both the ferries to the terminal."
Whomever he was screaming at put him through to the chief. In a calmer voice
Johnson told his boss what had to happen. In a minute he and the chief were patched
through to the mayor and the head of the Port Authority. Next I heard the governor's
voice on the line.
Everybody asked a lot of questions. Johnson gave them answers they didn't want to
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