Blood List(10)

Without waiting for a reply, he stumbled out into the afternoon.



* * *



October 18th, 11:27 AM EST; Deck of the MaryAnne; off the coast of Virginia.



This stinks, Gene thought as he looked into the choppy water. The boat rocked under his feet. He reeled in and inspected his hook. The four-pound jackfish stared at him with dead eyes, still perfectly intact. He sipped his beer and cast an accusatory glance at his sunbathing brother.

"Marty, I thought you said sharks love these things."

Marty shielded his eyes from the sun and squinted at Gene. "They do. Maybe they're not hungry. Just wait." He closed his eyes.

"Sharks are always hungry," Gene said. "They seem more interested in the mackerel than the jackfish." He cast the line back into the water.

Marty smiled and pulled his hat down over his face, muffling his voice through the fabric. "Give it time, bro. There's like four big makos down there, and the chum's got them all riled up. They'll bite."

Gene took one last look in the water, then sat. "Fair enough." He looked out across the ocean at a massive cargo ship passing in the distance. "You ever think about changing the name of your boat?"

Marty shook his head, making the hat jiggle on his face. "Nope. That's bad luck."

"You don't believe in luck," he replied.

"True," Marty said. "But that doesn't mean boats don't. You don't fucking mess with maritime tradition."

"But isn't having a boat named after your ex-wife a little weird?"

"Not as weird as it could be. She's hard to steer, stubborn, built like a brick shithouse, and just about perfect…." He trailed off.

Gene smiled. "Which MaryAnne are we talking about, here?"

Marty chuckled. "Not sure, bro. I love them both, and never spent enough time with either one."

"This job's hard on relationships," Gene said. "Maybe not as hard as the Navy, but the long hours, unexpected travel, the danger…I don't know how the two of you lasted as long as you did." The left pole dipped. "Hey, we've got a bite!"

Marty flipped to his feet in one fluid motion, an impressive feat on the rocking boat, and grabbed the pole with both hands. Eyes sparkling, he gave it a heave. His muscles strained as he dug in his feet. "That's a big one!"

Gene's phone beeped. Oh, great, he thought. He pulled it from his belt and cupped his hand over the screen to block the glare. It said, Utah. The caller ID read D Street.

"If that's work, tell them we're fucking busy," Marty said, giving another pull and reeling in a few feet of line.

Gene sighed. "It's work, but it's not Sam. It's D Street."

Marty snarled. "I'm on vacation."

"Not anymore," Gene said. He grabbed the other pole and started reeling. "We need to get these lines in and get to port, ASAP." He hit his speed dial as Marty dragged the shark closer to the boat. The phone rang once.

"On it, Gene," Sam said in his ear. "He's in Salt Lake. Flew there from Des Moines three days ago. I'm putting calls out to Carl and Jerri as we speak. Doug's in California, might be a little harder to track down. You'll have a plane waiting. SLC?"

"Yeah, that's fine. There's no point in trying to be sneaky about it. It might tip him off that we know something. Notify the SLC field office that we're coming."

"Will do. I'll have Doug meet you there. What's your ETA to Dulles?"

"Um…." Gene looked around at the open water. "Give us two hours."

"You got it, Gene." Sam hung up.

Gene patted Marty on the back. "You've got ten minutes to land that shark or let it go."

"Yes, sir."





Chapter 4





October 18th, 12:43 PM PST; San Jacinto Mountain; San Jacinto State Park, California.



Doug smiled sadly at the love of his life. Maureen Barnhoorn was a classic beauty, a tiny little thing with raven-black hair, high cheek bones, smooth skin tanned to milk chocolate, and soft brown eyes. They lay naked under the sleeping bag, bundled against the cold.

Doug watched the tears form in Maureen's eyes and stifled a flash of hatred for Gene Palomini. "I'm sorry," he said, "but I have to go." It was one thing to be on call. It was another to break her heart. To be fair, it wasn't Gene's fault. "This guy's going to kill someone else if we don't stop him. Something might break this time. We might get him." He brushed his fingers down her back.

"I know, baby," she said. "Robbie tells me you've got the FBI dream-job, the one everyone shoots for. Special Operations Units get the big guns, the big budgets, the big toys, and only the best get in. He's jealous, you know."

Doug nodded but didn't interrupt.