“Yep. It made big news before they hushed it up. Some creepy doctors arranged to make a ton of money selling organs on the black market. Turned out they had contacts throughout the states and overseas. They’d get orders for organs, kidnap and kill donors, taking whatever they wanted. I think there were close to a dozen people involved.”
“Ten, and Haversham was on the case.”
She nodded. “He co-headed it. But that was four or five years ago, right?”
“Yes.” Jane’s mind whirred. “You’re sure you never heard the name Kaminski?”
“Before coming to Seattle? I’ve heard it more than a few times here, but they’re nowhere near to taking on the Mazzucas. They have no real firepower. And calling them a crime family or organization is an insult to families andorganizations everywhere.” She chuckled. “But I do know some interesting intel on Haversham, if you’re interested. Though Rob could probably tell you more. He—” The sound of firecrackers distracted them. “What the heck is that?”
More noise, and cement chipped at their feet.
Sullivan and Jane dropped.
Gunfire.
Near them, people scattered and screamed.
Jane swore. “Those aren’t firecrackers.”
“Where are the shots coming from?”
Something struck the ground to the right of Jane, hitting the edge of the platform close by. She peered over the ledge to see one shooter, holding a rifle aimedat her,standing between small cars in line for the ferry.
“Down below—” Sullivan swore as a round struck between her and Jane. “And over there!” She nodded to two people, a man and a woman, firing pistols from the building some twenty or so yards away. Sullivan pulled out her weapon.
“They’re aiming at us. We need to move.” Jane also wanted to get the gawkers and civilians standing around to safety. “Get to safety!” she yelled at the people staring at them with blank expressions.
She and Sullivan darted away, running for the stairwell for some cover while shots continued to explode around them. Sullivan couldn’t return fire because too many people ran between her and the shooters.
Sirens screamed, growing closer.
Below, a loud exchange of gunfire filled the air, likely from the Washington State Troopers who’d been checking on the vehicles boarding the ferry.
“Drop your weapons,” she heard someone yell.
Sullivan grabbed a nearby crying woman who stood frozen in fear. She nudged her toward the stairs and fired back.
Jane tackled a young man just before a bullet drilled into the post behind him. “Head down and away,” she told him, watching him crawl away in terror down the stairs.
The rest of the civilians had scattered. The shooting ceased, the gunmen nowhere to be found. So she turned to check on Sullivan.
And found her friend bleeding on the ground.
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
“Seriously, I’m fine,”Sullivan growled at the closest paramedic wrapping her leg.
“You don’t look fine,” Jane said.
Sullivan glared but ignored her and said to the EMT, “The bullet barely grazed me. Just hurts. Yes. It was a bullet after all.”
“Ma’am, please don’t move. Let me just?—”
“Guy, I appreciate your help, but…” She gave him a polite and appreciative earful, trying to get down to the cops buzzing all over the terminal grounds.
Rapp stood by Jane’s side. He’d been nearby and seen the lights of responding vehicles just before Jane had called him. Since she didn’t know if the shooting—aimed at her and Sullivan—had to do with Code Blue or the Mazzucas, she decided to err on the side of caution by calling her not-boss.
“Thanks for letting me know,” he murmured. “You sure you’re okay?”
