Blood List(60)

One man dropped screaming into the water as another shot from Marty's .50 caliber shattered his leg. Marty rolled to his left and reloaded in a single fluid movement, then scrambled to find another firing position. Another burst of automatic fire, and the beach went dark. Carl swore over the COM as bullets sparked off the top of the lighthouse.

Trying to adjust his eyes to the darkness, Gene looked out over the cliff face. Another dark figure knelt in the water, barely visible in the moonlight. The silhouette took shelter behind a rock and leveled what looked like a huge straw onto his shoulder. Doug's voice cried out over the COM. "RPG! RPG!" Machine gun chatter opened up from Doug's position, and sparks rang off the rock. The man ducked into cover until Doug had to reload.

The figure on the beach re-positioned the tube. His head burst like a melon hit with a sledgehammer. Carl's whoop of excitement came over the COM a split second before the rifle report hit Gene's ears. As the headless man crumpled, the RPG fired into the air, leaving a trail of smoke in its wake. It crashed back down into the water a few seconds later. The explosion ignited the gasoline from the ruptured motor.

As fire rippled across the water, men panicked. Most dove under the water to escape the spreading flame. The man clutching his face didn't. He flailed as the flames reached him. The grenades on his bandolier detonated. Shrapnel killed two men who had survived the gasoline fire and shredded the legs and back of a man on the beach. The others threw down their weapons and put their hands in the air. Gene tried again.

"FBI! STAND DOWN AND PUT YOUR HANDS ON YOUR HEADS!" The men on land dropped to their knees and folded their hands on their heads. In the water, men struggled to avoid the double danger of sharp rocks and burning gasoline. Marty lay in the snow and stared down the rifle scope. He swept it back and forth across the beach, searching for active hostiles.

Gasping for breath, his heart racing, Gene took stock. "Status," he said over the COM. The replies were immediate, breathless.

"Brent. I'm okay."

"Goldman, five by five."

"Bates, okay."

"Palomini, okey-dokey."

"Renner, still on the couch."

"All right," Gene said, "let's go get them. Marty, Doug, secure the suspects and check the injured. Carl and I will cover you. Jerri, you've got Renner duty. Be careful, everybody."

Nobody said anything as the team got moving. After a few seconds, Marty spoke.

"Fuckin' A, Gene."

"Yeah," Gene replied.





Chapter 20





February 2nd, 3:54 AM EST; Summer home of Dr. Abraham Lefkowitz; Martha's Vineyard, Massachusetts.



Twenty minutes later the scene flickered with red and blue lights, the product of one police car, one fire truck, and two ambulances, the entire emergency response force of the town of Aquinnah. A coroner had been called for the four dead and would arrive shortly from Boston.

Both of the injured men were in critical condition, one with a thigh that had been obliterated by Marty's .50 cal, and the other with shrapnel embedded in his back and legs. Four had extreme hypothermia, despite their wet-suits. Soon they would all be evacuated to Boston via ambulance boats due to arrive at any time at the main dock in Aquinnah.

The men wore government-issue, SWAT-style personal body armor, ski masks, gloves, and night-vision goggles. Gene's team recovered nine AK-47s, six pistols of Eastern European make, two bandoliers of grenades, and one tube RPG launcher. The weapons charges alone were enough to put these men away forever. None had identification, so the living and deceased alike had their fingertips scanned into Gene's PDA and uploaded to Sam.

They had laid the bodies out on the beach above the tide line. The ruined rafts were still tangled in the rocks. The survivors sat at the top of the cliff, wrapped in blankets taken from the house to protect them from the frigid wind. Carl stood watch over the prisoners. Gene, Marty, and Doug stood off to the side, their voices low but hostile.



Paul sat on the couch with his eyes closed, Jerri standing behind him on guard duty. The COM ear-bead he had been issued by Sam Greene was silent. It was also in his pocket. The one he had found near Gene Palomini's unconscious body almost a month before was in his ear. The encryption needed to break the lock on the COM had been pretty complex, but no encryption is unbreakable for someone with the right connections.



Marty's voice was pissed-off, as usual. "We can just fucking grab him, Gene. He's got nothing more to offer us. Nothing. Put him in a fucking box and deal with him later."

"Now's the time, boss," Doug said. "We won't get a better chance. He's got to know he's about out of usefulness."

"I gave him my word, Doug," Gene said.