Capture (Butch Karp Thrillers) (41 page)

Walking up to Stupenagel, he addressed her coldly, calmly. “We shall see who’s a warrior and who’s not.” He spoke into his handheld radio. “Bomb team, is the device armed?”

A click was followed by the sound of gunfire and a man screaming in pain. “Armed men are in the room. They killed the guards and just shot two of my men.”

“I’m sending more men,” Abdullah yelled into the radio, nodding to several men, who ran off. “Do whatever it takes, make any sacrifice. Get to the bomb.”

Abdullah glared at Stupenagel, who smiled and said, “Guess maybe God isn’t on your side.”

The terrorist’s eyes narrowed, but instead of getting angry, he smiled. “You’re wrong,” he said. “God
is
on my side. There is more than one path to Paradise.”

Kane stood looking through the telescope at the ship in the harbor, waiting for the signal. When he saw the green flag unfurled, he smiled and turned to face Lucy, who sat naked and bound in a chair facing the myriad lights of the Manhattan skyline. The hulking Abu stood near her, stealing glances at her breasts and legs, wondering if the boss would let him…

“Want a look?” Kane asked the young woman. “It’s really quite beautiful.”

Lucy kept her eyes on the Brooklyn Bridge. “I don’t get off watching cowards murder people.”

“No?” Kane said as if surprised. “Imagine that…I do.” He pointed to the ship. “That’s a floating bomb and it’s going to sail right up under the Brooklyn Bridge and roast your old man. It’s Christmas come early; hell, it’s even snowing.”

“I hope your bomb is big enough to come through this window and turn you into a smoking ember,” Lucy replied.

Kane walked over to the big window and tapped on it. “Multilayered polycarbonate laminate. Bulletproof, fireproof, and it would take a direct hit from a pretty good-size bomb to get through. I had it installed so that we could watch the fireworks in perfect safety. Now, if I’d been able to get a big tanker full of liquefied natural gas on the East River, it might have been a bit too warm in here, even if we didn’t burn to the ground like some of our neighbors probably will. This ship will turn the Brooklyn Bridge into molten
steel, take out every window along the waterfront, and incinerate all forms of life, including our friend al-Sistani out there.”

Lucy looked where he was pointing and saw al-Sistani was tied to a chair on the concrete deck outside the house. He struggled against the ropes and seemed to be yelling something, but the house was soundproof. Kane and Abu had placed bets on whether he would die immediately or suffer for a while when the ship blew up.

“But don’t worry,” Kane continued. “It won’t be
too
big. You and me and Abu will all be snug as bugs in a rug. But thanks for the thought.”

Hobbling back to the telescope, Kane turned it toward the Brooklyn Bridge. “Ah, there’s your dad now. I was beginning to worry that he wouldn’t figure out all of Andy’s riddles.”

Lucy frowned. “You knew?”

“Jesus Christ, who do you think is the dominant personality here?” Kane laughed. “Are you really that stupid? Of course I knew he wanted to warn your dad, the traitorous little do-gooder. I probably couldn’t have stopped him entirely; he does keep trying to get out and it does take an effort to keep him submerged. So I let him make up his stupid riddles, and even went along with the hand-delivered messages, just so long as it kept him from spilling the beans entirely. In fact, I thought it would be fun to find a way to kill the invincible Karp-daddy at the same moment of my triumphant return to my favorite city in the whole wide world.”

Kane pulled out Lucy’s cell phone and leaned against the picture window in front of her. “Let’s give him a call, shall we?” He hit the speed dial button for Karp. “Hi, Butch! It’s your future son-in-law. How do you like the show so far?”

Winking at Lucy, Kane giggled. “Now, now, what good are empty threats? But hey, I’ve got another riddle for you. This is for the jackpot…. ‘What do you get when a famous Muslim traveler crosses the Nile? I’ll give you a hint: Longfellow said it best.’ I’ll call back in a few and see if you’ve figured it out. But a lot of lives could depend on it, including your daughter’s. Want to say hi?”

Kane held the cell phone out toward Lucy. “Say hi to dear old Dad?”

“Do the right thing, Dad,” Lucy shouted.

“My, my, how altruistic,” Kane said, snapping the phone shut. “That ought to keep him there. Isn’t this fun?”

Karp closed the cell phone but kept it in his hand. “You got him, Espey?”

“Not quite,” Jaxon said. “I think we’ve narrowed it to a row of houses on Pierrepont Place. I hope he calls again. I want to narrow this down. We’re going to have to go in fast and heavy, and we’re only going to get one shot at this.”

Jaxon didn’t have to finish the thought.
If Lucy’s going to survive.
But Karp knew. “I think he’ll call. But it might be the last chance. Keep working on it, I’ve got to figure out this other riddle.”

Karp punched the number for his home. “Zak?”

“Dad!” his son replied. “They bombed the Brooklyn Bridge. It’s all over the news. I guess I didn’t save the world?”

“You can, Zak,” Karp said. “I’m okay and everything’s going to be all right. But I need your help again. Are you still at your computer?”

“Yeah.”

“Search for this phrase: ‘famous Muslim traveler.’”

“There’s a few names that come up,” Zak replied. “I’m not sure how to pronounce these but…looks like I-ben Arabi. I-ben Battuta. I-ben Jew-bare…”

“Wait! That one,” Karp said. “How do you spell it?”

“I-B-N…J-U-B-A-I-R.”

“Thanks, Zak, you did it again, love ya,” Karp yelled. “I’ll get back to you.”

Closing the cell phone, Karp spoke aloud. “Jaxon, did you get that?”

“Yeah, what are you thinking?”

“Kane’s riddle,” Karp said. “I think he was referring to Longfellow’s famous quote about ships passing in the night. Do you have access to that list of ships that left Trinidad when Jojola and Tran disappeared? Maybe they were on to something.”

“Hold on a sec,” Jaxon said. That was followed by silence and
then he came back on the line. “I’m patched in to one of my computer guys at the office. Give him the names of the ships.”

“The
Ibn Jubair
…that’s I-B-N and J-U-B-A-I-R, and
The Nile
.”

“I can tell you right now that
The Nile
was one of them,” Jaxon said. “That was the ship that Ned and I were watching the last night we saw Jojola and Tran. It’s a big liquefied natural gas tanker. We had reports that something was up involving the ship. But nothing came of the tip. Got anything, Greg?”

“Yeah, just came up. The
Ibn Jubair
is a medium-size refrigerated cargo vessel. It was supposed to be heading for Nova Scotia. But was contacted by the U.S. Coast Guard early this morning off the coast, reported mechanical problems…. Let’s see, was diverting to…the Brooklyn shipyards.”

“Shit!” Karp exclaimed. “Is there any chance those two ships crossed paths and
The Nile
could have transferred gas into the
Jubair
?”

“They left within a few hours of each other,” Greg replied. “And had similar routes. The
Jubair
to Nova Scotia. The
Nile
to the floating transfer facility in the Long Island Sound.”

“Jaxon, I’d tell somebody about that tanker,” Karp said.

“Already on it. What about the
Ibn Jubair
?”

Karp turned to Blanchett, who’d been standing by trying to decipher what was happening. “Ned, do you think you could get your scope on that ship out there?” he said, pointing to the cargo ship sandwiched between the tugboats. “And tell me the name?”

Blanchett opened the case containing his sniper rifle and pulled out the scope, which he trained on the ship. “It’s tough to see with the snow and haze,” he said. “Hold on a sec…. It’s the
Ibn Jubair
!”

“Jaxon, did you hear that!”

“I’m on it,” Jaxon replied. Karp heard him yelling to others. “Call the airbase, give them this code…and tell them to scramble fighters, we have a hostile ship in New York Harbor, possibly loaded with liquefied natural gas. And Greg, you get on the line to the Coast Guard and Harbor Patrol. Same message.” The agent turned
his attention back to Karp. “I don’t know how they did it—it takes a special refrigeration unit to get cold enough to store LNG—but if that ship is filled with gas and they set it off under this bridge or next to the waterfront in lower Manhattan—”

Blanchett interrupted. “More bad news,” he said. “The ship is moving toward us.”

As Karp and the others watched, small figures of men appeared on the forward deck of the ship. One stood up next to the railing and a moment later a gray line of smoke marked the path of the rocket-fired grenade into the wheelhouse of the tugboat. A single heartbeat passed and then the wheelhouse exploded. The tugboat veered wildly away from the
Ibn Jubair
. Meanwhile, on the other side, the remaining tugboat was trying to get away as men on the deck of the ship raked it with automatic-weapon fire. Smoking and on fire, the tug finally broke free and headed away at full speed like a singed cat.

Slowly, a white wake grew around the bow of the
Ibn Jubair
as it began to pick up speed. Karp looked around; there were still hundreds of people trying to get off the bridge, and who knew how many thousands in all the glassed-in rooms and offices of the skyscrapers, and driving in cars, along the waterfront.

“Espey, whatever happens, catch Kane,” Karp said. “Or this will just be the start of something much worse.”

“I promise, Butch. Now leave; there’s nothing more for you to do there. Let NYPD and the air force deal with this. If they can’t, you did everything you could.”

“Can’t do it, Espey,” Karp said. “This is personal to Kane. He’s somewhere he can see me. I’ve got to keep his eye on me and get him to call again.”

Karp turned to Blanchett. “I think you better go, Ned. You, too, Gilbert and Clay.”

The three others ignored him and looked out at the ship in the harbor. “We’re staying,” Murrow said.

Karp smiled. He patted Blanchett on the back. “Ned, you might want to get your rifle ready,” he said. “I don’t know why, but as Lucy might say, maybe there’s a reason you’re here.”

Blanchett nodded. “Been thinking the same thing. Don’t know
how I’m going to stop a ship with a .50 caliber, but maybe I can pick up a few of those assholes. All I know is that if the bear is trying to eat you and all you have is a rock, you throw the rock.”

“Look for the leaders,” Karp replied. “Maybe you can put them in a panic if the main guy is gone.”

Karp flipped open his cell phone again. “Ivgeny,” he said when his cousin answered. “Here’s the situation.”

“Bomb team, have you killed the infidels?” Omar Abdullah yelled into the radio. But there was only silence. “Bomb team, report!”

More silence, and then a voice. “Why, hello, Omar. I’m afraid the bomb team is indisposed at the moment. In fact, you might want to send a few more. Tran and I are tied at three each, and we need a tie-breaker or three. No even numbers, please.”

“Give me that,” said another voice Abdullah recognized as the Asian. “What’s the matter, Omar, cat got your tongue? Or maybe Stupenagel has your tongue? I heard she’s been hanging around some loose company.”

“Hey, watch it, Tran!” Stupenagel laughed. “You should see the look on Omar’s face. Priceless!”

Abdullah’s eyes blazed with fury. “Make more jokes. You’re just going to die with the rest of us,” he said, and slammed the radio against a bulkhead. He turned to Stupenagel and grabbed her chin. “You do know you’re going to die, don’t you?” he snarled. “You’ll never see your wonderful boyfriend or anyone else you love ever again. No matter what else happens, I am going to make sure that you in particular never live to see another sunrise, even if I have to kill you with my hands.”

“I know that, Omar,” Stupenagel replied softly. There were tears in her eyes but her voice was firm. “I’ve already accepted that. But I’m happy. The boys have fucked up your plan.”

Omar’s cruel eyes glittered but he smiled. “They have only made it more difficult.” He turned to the captain. “Aim for the docks between the last tall building and the bridge. We’ll rupture the tanks by running into them.”

The captain nodded. He and the rest of the crew had volun
teered for this suicide mission. “Police boats approaching,” he said.

Abdullah picked up the microphone for the ship’s broadcast system. “Prepare to repel the infidels.” He then watched with pride as his men assumed the positions they’d trained for while at sea—some manned searchlights, others set up .50 caliber machine guns, or checked their assault rifles, grenade launchers, or handheld rockets before finding cover from which to fight. Not only would his men have the advantage of shooting down on the police, he knew from the Internet that the Harbor Patrol was lightly armed. He also knew that the Coast Guard—at least those who hadn’t been paid off—were busy monitoring “hazardous” shipping, not some broken-down old milk wagon.

An NYPD helicopter suddenly appeared off the starboard bow and shined a spotlight on the bridge. “
Ibn Jubair
, cut your engines, lay down your arms, and prepare to be boarded,” said the pilot over the loudspeaker.

Abdullah nodded to a young man who’d been standing near the door with an over-the-shoulder missile launcher. The young man stepped out of the bridge and sighted and fired the missile, which buried itself in the copter and exploded.

As the helicopter whirled away from the ship and crashed in the water, the men on the
Ibn Jubair
cheered. Then they began firing at the Harbor Patrol boats that were approaching at high speed over the dark water, the twilight suddenly blazing with tracers and spotlights. A rocket grenade caught a police boat broadside and left it dead and smoking as its crew jumped overboard or lay where they’d fallen.

It was soon clear that the police were outgunned and unable to approach the slow but inexorable ship. There’d always been a plan just in case the small bomb attached to the hull and linked to the tanks of gas malfunctioned. Even a change in target if it looked like the Brooklyn Bridge was too far. The skyscrapers of lower Manhattan along FDR Drive crowded along the waterfront, thousands of windows and who knew how many lives exposed to the flash fire of an exploding LNG ship.