Robert Tanenbaum - Bad Faith

“What the hell?” said the lead NIDSA agent, pointing his gun at Ghilzai while his partner handcuffed Akhund, who was still trying to catch his breath from a blow to the solar plexus.

“He,” Lucy said, pointing to Jojola, “just called him”-she pointed at Tran-“a ‘stupid monkey.’ It’s a pretty typical insult in Vietnam.”

The lead agent’s jaw dropped and then he scowled. “I could give a rat’s ass what they’re calling each other.”

“This is what we get working with amateurs and old men,” added the second agent, placing flex cuffs on the downed terrorist’s wrists.

Jojola and Tran stopped their squabbling to look hard at the agent who’d insulted them.

“Amateurs and old men?” Jojola said, seething. “Look, you baby-faced James Bond wannabe. I was kicking the asses of tougher men than these two before you were born.”

“You mean we were kicking your ass,” Tran retorted before sneering at the agent and adding, “But yeah, tre em imbecile -”

“Sort of French-Vietnamese for ‘imbecile child’ …,” Lucy interpreted helpfully.

“-all I see are cheap suits, bad haircuts, and snot-nosed children playing at being men,” Tran continued.

“All right, boys,” Lucy interrupted. “I think we still have work to do, and we need to move on.”

She smiled and shook her head. She’d met Jojola, a member of the Taos Indian tribe, when he was the tribe’s chief of police and had teamed with her and her mother to catch a serial child-killer in New Mexico. A decorated army veteran who’d served during the Vietnam War, he was a spiritual man who had not been surprised that the crossing of their paths, and the seemingly coincidental events that had twisted their fates together, led to his joining Espey Jaxon’s small counterterrorism agency.

At least it was no stranger than the participation in the agency of Tran Vinh Do, a longtime family friend, mostly because of his dedication to Lucy’s mother, Marlene. Tran was a former Vietcong leader during the war in Vietnam and was now currently a gangster in New York City. Although she didn’t need convincing that there was more than coincidence to all of their lives crossing, it didn’t surprise her to learn that Jojola and Tran had been sworn enemies during the Vietnam conflict, even though they’d since buried all but the verbal hatchets and were the best of friends.

The federal agents glared at Jojola and Tran for a moment but then the lead agent shrugged. As he turned Ghilzai around, he looked at Akhund and said, “Good work, Hasim. We’ll put in a good word with the judge.”

Akhund furrowed his brow, trying to understand what the agent was saying, but Ghilzai got it right away and lunged at his partner. “Traitor!” he spat as the agent restrained him. “I knew you could not be trusted! As Allah is my witness, you will die for this and your soul be cast into the pits of jahannam !”

Hasim Akhund’s eyes grew wide with fear. “I did nothing,” he said. “They are trying to make me look like a traitor!”

“Okay, you two, break up the love fest,” the lead agent said. “Captain, would you make the announcement? Meantime, you two assholes stand there against the window. You might enjoy what you’re going to see.”

The ferry captain picked up the microphone to the public address system and spoke. “Ladies and gentlemen, please remain in your seats. Our sister ferry tied up next to us is ready to get back in service and so we’re going to let her go ahead. We hope you enjoyed your visit to the American Family Immigration History Center and we’ll be under way for Liberty Island shortly.”

With that, the captain turned off the microphone and nodded to the agents and Lucy. “Good luck,” he said.

“Thanks,” Lucy replied as she and her two cohorts quickly moved toward the door. She’d remained aboard the ferry when it docked so that she could listen in with eavesdropping equipment on any calls placed by Ghilzai’s cell phone. She knew the code words he was going to use if the attack was going forward, but if he had changed his mind and contacted his counterparts speaking in Urdu or Arabic, her talents might have been needed. They knew a lot of what was planned, especially regarding the attempt to hijack the ferry, but they did not know how to locate the other part of the terrorist team-only that they were going to attack by boat. Now she had to get to the other ferry.

Lucy ducked out of the pilothouse and hurried past curious, but not alarmed, tourists. She quickly made her way to the other ferry, stepping aboard as the crew cast off and the boat pulled away from the pier.

It was a lovely spring morning in Gotham when Karp and Murrow emerged onto Crosby Street and turned the corner onto Grand Street for the half mile or so walk to the Criminal Courts Building on Centre Street. The trees were beginning to bud and although the sun had yet to peer over the tops of the skyscrapers, their fellow pedestrians smiled and chatted beneath clear blue skies as they wove their way through the throng on the busy sidewalks.

Reaching the front of the massive Criminal Courts Building, Karp pointed to a newsstand. “I’ll be up in a minute,” he said. “I’m going to go pick up the Times and say hello to Warren.”

As Karp approached, “Dirty” Warren Bennett, who owned the newsstand, looked up through thick, smudged glasses and grinned. “Hey, Butch … asshole bitch … how are you this morning?” the thin little man with the long, pointed nose asked.

Karp smiled back. Bennett hadn’t earned his nickname because of the state of his clothes or personal hygiene, though both were in need of a good washing. The moniker was due to his Tourette’s syndrome, which, in addition to causing muscle spasms and facial tics, made him involuntarily swear like a longshoreman.

“Hey, I got one … oh boy shit whoop crap … for you,” Bennett said.

Karp’s smile disappeared and was replaced by his game face. He and the news vendor had been playing movie trivia for years, with Bennett trying to stump Karp, which he’d yet to do. “Well, pilgrim, draw if you’ve got the cojones ,” he replied with his best, though poor, John Wayne imitation.

Bennett sneered. “Oh yeah? Okay then, Mr. Wayne. In 1944 Lux Radio Theater featured … whoop whoop oh boy … a radio adaptation of this movie with Betty Grable, Carmen Miranda, and John Payne,” he said. “Name the movie and be exact.”

Karp scoffed. “Appropriate choice for this morning,” he replied. “ Springtime in the Rockies . That exact enough for you?” He waited for Bennett’s face to show the first sign of triumph before he shattered his friend’s hope of finally scoring a point. “But it’s a trick question, Mr. Bennett,” he said, watching his opponent’s hopeful expression immediately fade. “John Payne played the part of Dan Christy in the film, but Dick Powell replaced him for the radio version.”

“Damn it, Karp, you bastard,” exclaimed Bennett, whose responses weren’t always tied to Tourette’s. But he shook his head and smiled. “Man, you’re … oh boy shit piss … good.”

Karp wiggled his eyebrows. “Don’t mess with the Duke of Trivia, pilgrim.”

Both men laughed as Karp picked up a newspaper and paid the vendor. But as he turned toward the Criminal Courts Building, a shout interrupted his good mood.

“There here he is! There’s Karp!” The shout elicited jeers and epithets.

Looking in the direction of the voices, Karp saw a dozen or so protesters, some carrying picket signs, walking swiftly toward him on the sidewalk. Emerging from the middle of the pack to lead them was the Reverend C. G. Westlund, who didn’t yell but smirked as he approached.