His vow sent a shiver down her spine, and she didn't want to ask any more questions because she wasn't sure she wanted to hear his answers.
The Bayside Marina sat on a protected inlet in the Bronx, a mid-sized facility that catered to weekend boaters and fishing enthusiasts rather than luxury yacht owners. As they pulled into the gravel parking lot, Kara could see maybe fifty boats of various sizes tied up along a series of floating docks—cabin cruisers, fishing boats, a few sailboats with their masts reaching toward the darkening sky.
At seven o'clock on a Sunday evening in January, the place was nearly deserted. Most recreational boaters had already pulled their vessels in for the winter, and those that remained were battened down for the night. The marina office was dark, and only a few boats showed lights on in their cabins.
They got out of the car and walked carefully down to the floating docks, their footsteps muffled by the gentle lapping of waves against the hulls.
"There," Max said, pointing toward the furthest dock where a sleek white cabin cruiser sat at the end of the pier with the name Isabelle painted on the side. It was bigger than most of the other boats, maybe forty feet long. As they approached the boat, they could see a light on inside the main salon.
They paused for a moment as Novik came into view, a phone pressed to his ear, gesturing wildly as he spoke.
"Wonder if he's alone," she whispered.
"Let's get closer," Max said, casting a look around as they crept down the dock. And suddenly Novik's voice ran through the air.
"I told you, I don't have a boat that can make it to the Bahamas," he said. "I need a plane and a private airfield."
He was looking to run, and they needed to stop him. Max stepped aboard first, and she followed. They both drew their weapons. Novik was a big man, broad-shouldered and thick around the middle.
"I need to get out of the country," Novik continued. "Tonight, if possible. Yes, my brother will pay anything. He owes—" Novik stopped mid-sentence when he saw them enter the cabin. He threw down his phone and started to reach for a gun on the table.
"FBI," she shouted. "Don't do it, Novik. We just saw Hartford die. You don't want to be next."
He froze, turning his head at her words, his eyes cold but also scared. "Hartford is dead?"
"Yeah. His house was blown up," Max said as he moved across the room and grabbed Novik's gun before he could reach for it again. "Costa was killed last night. I'm guessing you're next, unless you make a deal."
"What kind of deal?" he asked warily.
"You tell us where to find Caleb Azrani and Ali Qadir."
"I don't know where Caleb is, or his brother, or anyone else. I had nothing to do with any of this. All I did was tell Hartford about an internet site."
"Where he could hire someone to build bombs, blow up buildings and kill people," she said, still pointing her gun at his face. "Start talking."
"I can't help you. They didn't tell me anything. And when I heard about Elias, I got scared, so I went into hiding. I'm trying to get out of town."
"Where does Caleb live?"
"He's always changing his address. I only know how to reach him through the site."
"You're not in charge?" she asked.
"God, no! Caleb is in charge. Well, actually, I don't think he's on top anymore either. His brother is in town with a lot of other bad people."
"What are they here to do?" Max asked.
"I don't know, but Cal's brother hates America. That's why I was shocked when I heard he was in town. I didn't think he could get into the country."
"You need to come with us," she told him. "We'll protect you as long as you tell us the truth."
"You'll put me in jail," he said, but the resignation in his gaze told her he knew he had no other option.
"At least you'll be alive."
Before he could respond, they heard approaching engines. Fast boats, more than one.
Max moved to the window and swore under his breath. "We've got company. Two speedboats coming in fast."
