“All legitimate ships will comply with a radio call from the Coast Guard. Unfortunately, the one ship we want stopped is not going to comply. Or respond.”

“All right… can we block the harbor?”

I’d played that scenario in my mind and replied, “It’s difficult to physically stop a large ship that’s intent on entering the harbor.” I let her know, “We have police and Coast Guard craft that can pull off a combat boarding of a large hostile ship going full speed ahead, but it’s not easy—especially if there’s armed resistance.”

“Can’t the ship be… like, blown out of the water?”

She was asking questions I’d already asked myself, and the answers were not good. I informed her, “Even a Coast Guard cutter doesn’t carry a gun big enough to stop a large ship, and all the shore batteries guarding the approaches to New York Harbor were deactivated after World War II. You’d need a Navy warship to be in the area—or jet fighters.” I added, “In any case, do we want to fire on a ship that may have an atomic device onboard? Or fire on the wrong ship by mistake?”

She thought about all that, then said, “You’re telling me that a ship with a nuclear weapon onboard could sail directly into New York Harbor and detonate.”

“Well… it’s possible. Especially if it was a ship that looked legit. Or if it was on a suicide mission.”

She thought a moment, then said, “Whoever planned this in Moscow understood that seaport security has some holes in it.”

“Big enough to sail a ship through.”

Tess stayed quiet, then said, “Maybe, as Buck said, we are misinterpreting what we see.”

“We’d all be happy to be proven paranoid.”

She didn’t respond and we drove in silence. Indeed, it was hard to believe this was happening. It seemed like an abstract problem in a training exercise. Find the nuke, Detective. We gave you some clues. Think. Is Abdul smarter than you?

No. But Ivan could be.

Holy shit.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

As I drove along Gin Lane I could see the ocean fog rolling in. What else could go wrong tonight? Well, I was about to find out.

I drove past Tamorov’s gates, and up ahead I saw a Chevy sedan parked in the street. As I got closer, my headlights picked out a man and a woman talking to Steve and Matt.

I pulled over and got out, leaving the Blazer running. Tess followed.

The guy, a middle-aged man wearing a young man’s sports jacket and jeans, introduced himself as Suffolk County Detective Phil Florio, and the lady was Detective Beth Penrose. I actually knew Detective Penrose, having once worked with her on the Plum Island case. In fact, we had become romantically involved, as they say.

“This is a pleasant surprise,” I said sincerely.

“Nice to see you,” she replied, though she didn’t mean it.

This was a bit awkward. I mean, it didn’t end well, and may not have ended at all, except that Kate came into the picture and I had to stop double-dipping, so I’d made The Call and explained the problem to Beth, who did not seem to understand the solution. I would have told her in person, but she carries a gun.

Detective Florio asked, “You know each other?”

Neither of us replied, which was a clue for all the detectives standing there that this was not a happy reunion.

Also, Beth must have known from Kalish or Florio that she’d be meeting me here, and if not, she’d just heard it from Steve and Matt. But she apparently hadn’t told anyone that she knew me. Nor had she recused herself by explaining, “I slept with that asshole for a year and he dumped me for some FBI slut.” I would certainly recuse myself from any assignment that brought me into proximity of an ex, but women… Well, they’re into drama. Sometimes revenge.

Anyway, Tess took advantage of the silence to introduce herself. “Tess Faraday, State Department Intelligence.”

Matt and Steve, like Scott Kalish, seemed surprised that Tess had come up in the world in the last few hours.

I said to my team, “I’ll explain later.” I asked them, “Any word from the home office?”

Matt replied, “Just a few texts.” He let me know, “I told them you were on a meal break.”

It sounded like my FBI colleagues at 26 Fed didn’t know they were in a possible nuclear blast zone. Well, it’s not in my limited job description to tell them. Also, that’s compartmented information. Sorry, boys.

Beth asked me, “How can we help you, Detective?”

I looked at her in the light of the Blazer’s headbeams. It had been about six years since I’d last seen her. She looked the same and she still favored her tailored, almost masculine pantsuit, white blouse, and sensible shoes. Not particularly sexy, but professional. On the plus side, she still looked like she was smuggling balloons.

“Detective?”

“Sorry, Beth. What was the question?”

“All my friends call me Detective Penrose. Why don’t you do the same?”

Why don’t I just call you bitch?

She asked again, “How can we help you?”

“Have you been briefed?”

Phil Florio replied, “We were told you’re here on a Federal surveillance, and the target, a Russian dip, went in this Russian guy’s house, then sailed off in a boat with some guests, and you want to question the owner of that house. Georgi Tamorov.”

“Correct.” I let them know, “Tamorov is having a party, and there are about thirty Russian guys in there, maybe not all U.S. citizens, plus about a dozen Russian hostesses.” I added, “The Russkies who took off in the boat had another dozen escorts with them.”

Detective Florio smiled. Detective Penrose rolled her eyes.

I further briefed them, “As I’m sure you’ve heard, Ms. Faraday and I were in there undercover with the caterers, so we know the layout.”

Tess added, “Everyone is naked.”

“Right. So we don’t need to pat them down.”

Matt and Steve laughed. Even Beth and Tess smiled. And Detective Florio seemed anxious to get to the party.

I said, seriously, “I counted eight Russian security guys in there, dressed in black, and they may be carrying—and there could be more I didn’t see.”

Detective Penrose asked, “Do you expect any resistance?”

“I expect that the hired security guards will decide not to be heroes.”

Tess advised, “But, as you know, have a plan to kill anyone who poses a threat to you.”

I think I created a monster.

Florio suggested, “Maybe we need more people.”

“We can handle it.” I also informed them, “There are about fifteen caterers on the premises, mostly English deficient, and a few household staff, similarly challenged.”

Detective Penrose asked, “Do you have a warrant of any sort?”

“We don’t need one.” I explained, “We’ve been invited onto the premises.”

She knew me well enough to know I’d invited myself. I said to everyone, “Here’s the plan. Tess and I go in first with our vehicle and gain entry at the gate, followed by Phil and Beth… Detective Penrose. Matt and Steve bring up the rear and they secure the gate, the guards, and the dogs—bring your Mace—then Steve goes down to the beach. I don’t want anyone leaving the party. Especially if they’re naked.” I asked, “Any questions?”

Detective Penrose had a question. “What are we looking for?”

“For the record, we’re looking for drugs and underage females. Also illegal aliens and unlicensed guns.”

“And off the record?”

Tess answered, “That’s classified information.”

Beth ignored her and looked at me. When we parted, I was working for the Anti-Terrorist Task Force, and sometimes I’d share a few things with her, and maybe that’s what she was thinking now. Finally, she asked me, “Do you anticipate any arrests?”