Nelson Demille - Radiant Angel

“I know you’re a dickhead and you’re going to die.” I glanced again at Tess, but she wasn’t moving.

Mikhail now noticed that the trunk was open, and this disturbed him. “Turn around and close the lid.”

So my options were reduced to two — go for my borrowed gun, or turn around and pull the detonator wires, which would either blow the nuke prematurely or kill it right before this asshole killed me.

People are morbidly drawn to looking at dead bodies, and Mikhail made the mistake of glancing at Urmanov as he passed him, and I pulled Gorsky’s gun from my pocket at the same time as Mikhail looked back at me.

I don’t know who would have gotten the first shot off, because all of a sudden I heard a deafening crash and the sound of tearing metal, and the ship rolled sharply to port. I was knocked off the boat and into the water and momentarily stunned, but I jumped to my feet, moved quickly to my left, and aimed my pistol at the dock above me.

Mikhail suddenly appeared with his gun aimed at where he’d last seen me. I popped off three rounds, discovering that Gorsky’s pistol was silenced, at the same time that Mikhail discovered that my aim was good.

I could hear water rushing into the ship, and The Hana was starting to list to starboard. Obviously we’d been rammed. The good news was that the nuke would be underwater. The bad news was that this ship was sinking fast.

I ran to Tess, who was now trying to get out from under Petrov’s dead body.

I pulled him off and helped her to her feet. She did not look good, but her head was clear and she said, “I saw an icebreaker...”

“Right. Let’s go.”

I lifted her onto the dock, then climbed up and got her to her feet. “I’m going to carry you to the swimming platform.” I reminded her, “Your float coat is there. Ready?”

“John, the nuke...”

I assured her, “The electronics will fizzle. Let’s go.”

But she kept staring at the nuke. “It might take too long for the water...”

I could hear the sea rushing in from about midship, but I didn’t see any water coming into the garage. So with the extra time that Mikhail had given us, I went back to Plan A and ran to the catwalk, shut off the garage pumps, then hit the switch marked SHELL DOOR.

I heard a hydraulic sound, and watched as the door on the starboard side began to swing out, letting in the sea. A wall of water ran into the garage, making the ship list more to starboard, and I thought we were going to capsize. Was this a good idea? But the nuke was completely covered with water now, and if it was really like my cell phone, it was dead. If not, we were.

The amphibious craft was rising with the water, and I called to Tess, who was limping toward me on the tilting dock. “Stay there!”

I ran across the catwalk to the opposite dock, jumped into the amphibious craft, and released the two lines.

I looked at the dashboard, which seemed simple enough, like a lot of sports boats I’d been on. I started the engines, pushed off from the dock, and turned the wheel hard. The amphibious craft came around in the tight space and I maneuvered it to the forward dock where Tess was kneeling. “Jump in!”

She slid into the seat beside me as I headed for the open shell door.

The water inside the garage had reached the level of the water outside, so we didn’t have to sail against the incoming sea. That was the good news. The bad news was that The Hana was listing so badly now that the top of the door opening was only about four feet from the water, and the headroom to clear this ship was getting tighter as the ship continued to tilt. I gunned the engines and said, “Duck!”

As we shot through the open door, the windshield of the amphibious craft clipped the top of the opening and ripped it off, sending the windshield flying over our heads.

When I looked up, we were out in the bay where the dawn was breaking.

I put some distance between us and The Hana , in case the nuke was still alive, then I looked back at the big yacht, which was almost on its side, a few degrees from slipping under.

Off in the distance I spotted the icebreaker, heading out toward The Narrows, mission accomplished.

I didn’t see any other ships around, but an NYPD helicopter hovered overhead and his loudspeaker blared, “Stay where you are!”

I cut the engines and we both stood. Tess put her arm around me and we waved, trying to look friendly.

Tess turned toward the rising sun. “Long day.”

“I hope you learned something.”

I took off my shirt and tied it tightly around her thigh as we watched The Hana disappear under the water, taking its secrets with it. At least until it was raised. Then it remained to be seen what secrets were made public. I know how these things work.

I looked at the Manhattan skyline, about half a mile away, still standing, but still in the center of a lot of people’s crosshairs.

The Twin Memorial Beams, which go on at dusk on September 11 and off at dawn, went off. Until next year.

Tess put both arms around me and we looked at each other, then kissed for the video camera in the chopper. I guess I could explain that later.

She lay down on the bench seat and I knelt beside her. “You okay?”

“I need a drink.”

She probably needed a pint of blood, but I said, “We have a date.”

I heard engines approaching and looked up to see a Coast Guard cutter and an NYPD Harbor craft heading toward us.

So, situation corrected. Surveillance target in known location. End of tour.

Holy shit.

So the FBI put me on paid administrative leave, which they sometimes do during an ongoing investigation into a serious case or incident. This has the dual benefit to them of getting rid of me while still keeping me under their control. As a contract agent, I could have just resigned, but they were going to terminate my employment anyway, so why bother?

Kate finally made it home, oblivious to my bad day on the job. Normally I’d share some of this with her, but this was sensitive compartmented information that she had no need to know. She did, however, have some unclassified information for me that she could share; she had been offered a reassignment to FBI Headquarters in Washington. Or did she ask for the reassignment? I don’t know and I didn’t ask.

The following day, after I visited Tess in the hospital, I told Kate that I had been placed on leave, pending, I told her, an investigation of me losing an important target. Kate seemed concerned, maybe because this brought up the question of me going with her to Washington. But as we both knew, my non-job was still in New York, so officially I had to stay here. I could, however, put in a request to spend my free time — which is every day — in D.C. But Kate and I agreed that a little separation would be good for both of us while we were going through career transitions.

And did I mention that her boss, Tom Walsh, was also being reassigned to Washington? My detective instincts told me this was not a coincidence.

Regarding the events under investigation, there was a complete news blackout on that, except for the cover story that a yacht of Saudi Arabian registry had suffered a serious collision with another boat in New York Harbor and had gone down with loss of life. Salvage operations were underway. All of this is true, confirming once again that the best lies are lies of omission, and about ninety-nine percent of what happened has been omitted.

Geopolitics is not my strong point, but I understand why the government is not calling this a thwarted nuclear attack, perpetrated by the Russians. I mean, American-Russian relations are shitty enough without accusing them of nuclear terrorism, which wouldn’t improve things much, and might restart the Cold War. I’m sure Washington is going to get its pound of flesh from the Russkies, somewhere, somehow, but in the meantime we’re still focused on Abdul, which is an easy sell to the public, and Ivan still looks like a potential ally. At least that’s my take on this. But who knows what the hell is going on in Moscow and Washington?