Kendall, McBride, Beard and Holmes were heading around back. A slew of officers in uniform had been called, and they’d be arriving momentarily.
“Let’s just walk down the street,” Craig told Mike. “Check out the entry. It’s going to be empty. They’ve cleaned out. They know that their man Paco is dead—and that he missed killing Riley and Tanya. They’ve moved on. We don’t need a barrage of firepower.”
“Situation calls for backup, kid,” Mike reminded him.
“And we’re waiting. I just want to be at that door in case there is a straggler in there anywhere,” Craig said. “These guys must have the ability to move fast. We know it’s a pretty major operation. They seem to have the ability to move at the drop of a hat—”
“Easy enough,” Mike interrupted, “when you maintain a lot of property that really belongs to dead men.”
“Easy enough, but not for forever,” Craig said. “And they haven’t had much time this go-around.”
“They didn’t have much time last go-around,” Mike reminded him. He sighed softly. “These people...they have balls out the kazoo. This Paco guy just about asked you to shoot him. How the hell are they doing it?”
“I’m thinking family,” Craig said. “What is a man willing to die for? His children, his wife, his mother. Maybe they have some kind of hold over them. Hell...who knows.”
“Pizza,” Mike said.
“What?”
“You can smell the pizza—big-time.”
Mike had barely finished before the sound of an explosion ripped through the air.
To their side, the building seemed to burst into splinters and turn into a roar of fire that sent heat waves streaking up to the sky.
“Down!” Craig shouted, even as the force of the blast pushed them sideways.
He grabbed Mike, and the two of them ran like hell across the street as far as they could.
The world around them burned.
* * *
The fire went high and fierce—quickly. In a matter of moments, the shooting flames were gone, and the building was beset with just a few flames here and there.
Car alarms were going off all around.
Craig was on his feet, ready to race for the building.
“Craig!” Mike caught him by the arm.
He swung around. “Mike, what if...what if they left someone in there?”
“Oh, God,” his partner murmured.
Sirens were blaring. The fire department was near.
Near. Not there yet.
Some windows had been blown out—Craig and Mike were really lucky they weren’t injured...or dead.
“We gotta go in!” Craig said.
Mike didn’t argue. They hurried to the entry; the doors had exploded outward. Glass crunched beneath their feet.
“The basement,” he said to Mike. “The basement...it’s where they kept the women. If someone is in here...”
“Jesus.” Mike sighed. “We are idiots.”
“What if someone is in there who’s alive? Seconds can matter!” Craig pulled his shirt up to cover his mouth and nose.
“Then let’s go.”
Craig rushed in.
Mike plunged after him.
They’d searched the ground level, moving carefully across the smoldering floor, and were doubling back across the building when they saw a firefighter.
“Hey, you guys, we can take it—”
“Yeah, yeah, but we’re already in. Follow me, please!” Craig said.
At first, they couldn’t find the stairs. Then, Craig saw a charred sign. He tore for the doorway, Mike and the firefighter behind him. Racing down, he entered into a cloud of smoke.
He crouched low.
He saw the remnants of the “dorm” Riley had described. Sheets, feather pillows, half burned, here, there, everywhere, charred and in puffs of white-and-black feathers.
“Smell that?” Mike whispered. “That ain’t pizza!” he said.
No.
Only one thing smelled that way.
Burning flesh.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Kieran was still talking with Tanya and Detective Wolff when word came through that a building in Brooklyn had exploded. They quickly learned that, luckily, no one had been inside. It had gone up before any police officers or agents had entered.
Just hearing what had happened, though, caused ice-cold rivulets of fear—stabbed through with streaks of hot relief—to race through Kieran’s body.
She stood.
Her legs wobbled and she sat back down.
She thought about what had happened, and she agreed that she should stay away when Egan made preparations to head over to Brooklyn.
She knew that Wolff couldn’t go—he couldn’t be seen in the area, lest he chance his undercover position.
She was sure that Craig wouldn’t want her at the scene, either.
But Kieran couldn’t stay away.
She told the remaining team that she was going to the pub. It wasn’t a lie; she would head there right after she went to Brooklyn.
Right after she saw Craig.
Because there was no way in hell she couldn’t see him now, couldn’t touch him, couldn’t make sure for herself that he was absolutely all right.
She allowed Egan to get an officer to drop her off at Finnegan’s.
She hopped out, and was about to turn around to quickly head for the subway. But just as the police car pulled away, Danny came walking up.
“Hey! Just finished up a tour. I was going to call you. I was worried. Kind of silly, I guess. I mean, you’re not out in Brooklyn often, but with everything going on... Did you hear there was a massive explosion? But, thank God, I see you’re here, and...”
“Craig is there. Come on!” She grabbed her brother by the upper arm of his jacket.
“Hey!” He resisted.
“Come on, Danny, please, before Declan comes out and it turns into a big thing. Please? I need you with me. I have to see Craig. Please, come on!”
Danny let out a breath.
“Yeah, yeah...okay. Hurry to the subway...speed it up before someone looks out one of the pub windows!” Danny shook his head and blew out a breath. “I sure as hell don’t want to explain abetting you in crazy deeds to Declan, either!”
* * *
It wasn’t really difficult to hide in plain sight—by the time Kieran and Danny arrived at the scene of the explosion in Brooklyn, yellow tape was up, officers were about everywhere, and crowd control was in full effect because there were hundreds—perhaps thousands—of people on the streets. To say that a crowd had formed would be putting it mildly.
That didn’t deter Kieran—Craig was somewhere here. She was simply terrified for him; her heart was racing. In pure panic, she started to plow her way through people, determined that she had to get to him.
Danny stopped her, pulling her around, holding her firmly and brooking no argument.
“He’s all right. Kieran, don’t go off the handle. You can put yourself in danger. You can get yourself killed.”
“But, Craig...”
“Craig is smart, tough—and more,” Danny said.
“No one is tough enough to survive an explosion!”
“I thought they told you he wasn’t in the building. Damn, sis—have some faith in the man.”
“I have nothing but faith in him, but how the hell would he know a building was about to explode?”
“He’s all right. Believe me.”
She inhaled sharply; as they had wedged themselves into the crowd staring at the burnt-out shell of a building, Egan had arrived.
So had the media.
The street was an absolute zoo of people of importance, people wanting to speak to the people of importance, and people just watching the scene of the di
saster. As she looked around, she saw that Jacob Wolff had not been able to resist the temptation to find out what was going on, either. He was pressed in the crowd to their left, a look of tortured concern on his face.
He must have somehow felt Kieran’s eyes on him because he turned, and he saw her. And since she had taken him unaware, he smiled before turning back.
They were in this together, she determined. They had been told to stay away.
Neither had been able to do so.
An officer spoke over a bullhorn, asking people to please respect the police line and let the emergency workers do their jobs.
The crowd seemed to shift back a little.
“What the hell?” Danny muttered suddenly as he bumped against Kieran.
“What?” Kieran asked him.
“Someone pushed me.”
“It’s a crowd, Danny—people push in crowds,” she said.
“This girl shoved. She seemed scared, worse than you. And it was so weird, I swear she was muttering ‘the King is coming.’ Don’t know where she was from, but someone has to tell her—this is America. We don’t have kings and queens.”
“What?” Kieran demanded. “Who? Who was it? Where did she go, Danny?”
Someone jostled Kieran. She realized she’d been holding her cell phone.
It went flying.
“Damn,” she murmured, diving down to find it. It was impossible, but the damn thing seemed to have cleanly disappeared. She was nearly pushed over as someone walked by her.
“Hey!” she protested. And then, of course, she saw her phone.
Smashed to pieces. She still grabbed it, rising to look around for Danny. He was by her side, reaching for her arm, looking around and shaking his head with disgust. “People!”
“Danny, this woman who was talking about a king. What did she look like? Where is she now? We need to find her.”
“She was little, but strong! A blonde woman. She’s gone now. We’re not going to find her. But... Hey! What the bloody hell?”
Danny spun around as he spoke; Kieran saw that someone had grabbed his arm to draw him back from Kieran.
Danny had recently been learning to control his temper. He’d been learning not to behave too rashly. Danny’s impulses to help others—especially those he perceived as downtrodden or used or abused—had gotten him into trouble in the past. He was quick to swing a fist.
Kieran gripped his forearm with both hands before he could possibly respond, even as his hand was clenching.
Because the person who had grabbed him was Jacob Wolff.
“I have to get you two out of here,” Wolff said.
“Get us out of here? Who the hell are you?” Danny demanded. Jacob was in plainclothes. He looked like any dark-haired slightly scruffy guy on the streets.
“Um...a friend,” Kieran said. “What is it? What’s wrong?” she asked Wolff.
“Come on! Follow me—now!”
* * *
Craig was aware that the firefighters were now the only ones who should be in the building.
But he knew that someone was there. Anyone close knew that someone was there.
Dead or alive.
The thing was—the explosion had been set. The building had been destroyed on purpose.
So if someone had still been in the building, they were either a victim or they knew what had happened, possibly did it...
“There!” he said.
A black, smoldering pile lay on the floor. It moved.
Craig raced forward, his heart beating hard.
Was it the baby’s mother? Being killed before she could escape, before she could cause trouble? Had she been left behind to die a horrible death as a warning to others?
“Here!” he shouted, knowing that the fire department had EMTs with them, that help would be there in seconds. “Over here!”
He slid down on his knees, lifting a charred blanket.
It wasn’t the baby’s mother.
It was, however, a human being. A man. His skin was charred so that it was impossible to define the man’s race, his age...anything about him, other than that he had been at the very wrong end of a fierce explosion.
“Dead?” Mike asked softly, reaching him.
The pile moved slightly. Breath, yes, he saw the man take a breath...
Whoever it was...he was still alive!
“No. Hey, help! Over here!” Craig shouted again.
He had already been heard. Firemen rushed to the victim; as quickly as possible, they secured him onto a backboard and brought him out.
“He is breathing,” Craig said. “He’s alive.”
“Barely,” Mike muttered.
Craig looked at the man. He was astonished to see that it seemed one of his eyes opened. He was trying to wet his lips. Trying to speak.
Craig lowered his head and an ear toward the man’s mouth, straining to hear his whisper.
“They must think I’m dead, must think I’m dead... I am dead. The kids, oh, God, Lily...”
“Hey, it’s all right,” Craig said.
What a stupid thing to say. Nothing was all right. That man was most probably dying.
But, according to his whisper, it seemed he almost needed to be dead.
“Dead, dead. For the kids, Lily...”
His voice trailed away. His one half-opened eye closed.
“We’ve got him,” a voice said softly.
An EMT was there. A serious young woman who had a medical bag with her, and a partner who was quickly at her side. They began to rattle off orders and agreements to one another, and her male partner shouted for a stretcher.
A few minutes later, the man was ready for transport.
“Any chance he’ll make it?” Craig asked the young female EMT.
“Yeah—he’s still breathing. I always say there’s a chance—as long as you’re still breathing. If there is the hint of a pulse, even, there’s a chance,” she said. “His is not a good chance. But we don’t give up until...well, we don’t give up. You riding with him?”
“Yeah, thanks!” Craig said. He turned to Mike.
“Meet you at the hospital,” Mike said.
“Find Kieran first, please,” Craig said. “This group, they’re always a step ahead of us. Make sure she’s okay, huh? Bring her with you.”
“You got it. She was at the safe house, right? With Egan?” Mike asked.
“Yes!”
“I’m on it!” Mike promised.
Craig crawled into the ambulance, keeping the best distance he could in the small space from the EMTs working to save the man’s life.
He was still breathing in the horrible scent of burning human flesh...
He took a deep breath, anyway. Patience. He was praying hard that they could save this man’s life—even though the man didn’t particularly seem to want to be alive.
That was it, of course. He’d said, They must think I’m dead.
That was the threat.
If he lived, if he talked, they’d kill his wife and kids.
* * *
“‘Come with me!’” Danny whispered to Kieran. “He sounds like the friggin’ Terminator. I mean, he could have added, ‘If you want to live.’”
Kieran turned quickly to stare at her brother as they headed through the crowd in the direction of Jacob Wolff.
“Danny, he may mean just that! There’s someone in that crowd. Come on...we have to move, move fast!”
“Holy...whatever,” Danny muttered.
They moved down one alley and then another.
They were not in a good section of Brooklyn. Trash lay about; a stench rose from the street. The buildings around them appeared to be covered in the soot of decades, or perhaps a century; the whole area had a miasma about it, as if not just the trash and grime of
time lay upon it, but as if poverty and hard labor and heartbreak and misery remained, as well.
“Where’s he taking us?” Danny demanded.
“I don’t know.”
“How do you know we should be following him? Who the hell is he? Is this whole thing entirely crazy? He could be taking us down dark alleys to slit our throats—”
“He’s an undercover agent, Danny,” she whispered back.
“Here!”
Jacob Wolff suddenly stopped, hurriedly used a key in a lock, and pushed open a nondescript door.
He ushered them in and closed and locked the door behind them.
The place was as nondescript as the door. Sparse furnishings, somewhat dark and dingy; it offered something of a living room/dining room area, a kitchen. There was no desk to be seen, no computer and absolutely nothing that might indicate anything about an owner or a resident.
“Safe house, hideout safe house, really. No one stays here, but it gets you out of the immediate action,” Jacob explained.
“Yeah, the immediate action,” Danny agreed. He looked at Kieran. He cleared his throat. “Okay, so...you’re an undercover cop.”
“I won’t be much longer. This thing is bursting into the open. I’ll be seen through soon enough—I’ve been hanging around the places where the worst of the worst hang out too often,” Wolff muttered. He looked at Kieran. She was afraid it might be an accusing look.
“If this blows open, you’ll need a break—a real life for a while, anyway,” she told him.
He didn’t argue with that.
“But...what the hell are we doing here? What was going on? Why did you drag us here?” Danny asked.
“The King and Queen are out there somewhere,” Jacob said.
Danny looked at Kieran as if she had really dragged him into a madhouse.
“King and Queen. Hey, buddy, sorry—this is America!”
There was a nice ring to his words—very patriotic—Kieran thought.
“They’re criminals, Danny, who go by those monikers so that no one knows their real names or even pseudonyms they might use. And to make those working more or less bow down before them,” Kieran explained.
“You should have let them come at me. Come on. What New York Irish kid hasn’t had a few boxing lessons?” Danny demanded.