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Marple grabbed her seat with both hands. The engine sound was a muffled roar through the helmet. She looked over at Holmes. “Where are we going?”
“Back to Brooklyn!” he said. “We’ve been invited to a takedown!”
Marple looked at Poe, then back at Holmes.
They both looked jumpy but happy—like two kids on their way to summer camp. It was the way they both used to look when they were loaded.
CHAPTER 46
AT MILITARY SPEED, the flight would take less than an hour. Along the way, Marple got the full briefing from her partners. Holmes told her about their Shining Path theory, and Poe filled her in on the rest. Late last night, he told her, the FBI’s Manhattan branch had traced a group of next-gen Shining Path operatives to a Brooklyn residence.
“New terrorists?” asked Marple.
“Right,” said Poe. “Co-opted by Oliver Paul.”
Marple spent the rest of the flight doing research on her cell phone, tapping from site to site, report after report. By the time the East River came into view outside the cabin window, she had memorized the entire social and political history of Peru, Shining Path chapter included.
As the helicopter descended toward the Brooklyn Navy Yard, Marple could see a staging area in a parking lot. Lots of black SUVs and NYPD patrol cars plus a few boxy SWAT trucks.
The helicopter circled and touched down about twenty yards from the vehicles. As soon as the engine shut down, Holmes unbuckled and slid the side door open.
The first person Marple saw outside was SAC Burton Edwards. He was standing just below the chopper door with his arms folded, long hair whipping in the rotor blast. He did not look happy.
Holmes helped Marple out of her helmet, then hopped down onto the tarmac. He held her arm as she stepped down onto the skid and then onto the ground. Poe was right behind her. Above them, the rotors started to wind down.
“Who the hell called Washington?” asked Edwards, his jaw jutting out.
Marple looked at her partners. They were both playing dumb.
“Not sure what you mean,” said Holmes.
“Like hell you don’t,” said Edwards. “Two this morning I get orders to investigate and neutralize a possible cell of South American saboteurs. I fly here to handle it. And then I find out that Raymond Pike got somebody to authorize you three to come along on the operation.”
Poe shrugged but said nothing. His expression was the tell. Marple immediately realized what had happened. From their bed at the lodge, Helene Grey had made contact with her old FBI pal, who had vouched for them.
“We clearly have friends in high places,” said Poe.
“I’m not sure why Pike thinks you guys add value.”
“I do,” said Marple. “We have the habit of being always right.”
Edwards shot her a look. “Agatha Christie. Mystery of the Blue Train. Not her best.”
Marple was surprised. Impressed, even. Edwards knew not only the quote but also the source.
The agent turned and led the way toward the cluster of vehicles by the river. “I hope you’re right about this, or else we’ve got nothing.”
Marple glanced at Holmes and Poe. She hoped so too.
CHAPTER 47
FOR BRENDAN HOLMES, the ride to the target was a heady reminder of how it felt to be part of the action. He realized how much he’d missed it. Maybe Dr. Bell was right. Maybe it was another addiction—one he couldn’t resist.
As he sat with Marple and Poe in the back of a SWAT truck, surrounded by men in full body armor, he could feel his adrenaline pumping. Thanks to Pike’s endorsement, they would be with the main force, not just spectators. Holmes had always been lured by risk and danger, and this kind of action had a special charge. The moments before a paramilitary assault had a dark, irresistible energy. Like nothing else in the world.
Except maybe heroin.
Holmes and his partners weren’t in full tactical gear, but they’d been given helmets and bulletproof vests. No weapons, though. Edwards had taken a hard line on that. “If there’s any shooting to be done,” he’d said, “my guys will do it.”
