"What?" he said, sounding distracted, which he probably was, since he was somewhere between the bridge and the ship, descending fast.

"I don't think the detonator's right. It's smaller and it-"

"Tell Althea to get away from the truck." She heard a thump and Wilder's sharp intake of breath. "I'm on the ship."

"Well, get back here."

"Doesn't work that way-one-way rope. Gravity rules."

Lucy stood up. "Althea," she called. "We're going to go a different way with this shot. You can leave."

Althea nodded and tried to help Bryce unsnap the cuff. "It's stuck," she called back.

"The cuff is stuck," Lucy told J.T. over the radio as she started to run toward Althea. "What do I do?"

"Stuck?" J.T. swore, but his voice was low, almost a whisper. "It's not stuck, the asshole used real cuffs, which probably means real explosives. You-"

Lucy dropped the headset and ran for Althea. When she reached the car, there were sixty seconds on the detonator.

Lucy pulled the gun out of the holster under her shirt. "Hi, Al, how's it going?"

"Lucy?" Althea said, and then Lucy put the barrel on the chain and fired. Althea screamed and Lucy spun her around and yelled, "Run," and Althea and Bryce ran for the rail while Lucy went flat out for the monitors, yelling, "Get behind the truck," to Gloom, diving behind it with him just as the armored car exploded, catching a piece of hot metal on her cheek and something else on the back of her head.

Then she was on the ground behind the truck, hands over her head as metal rained down all around them.

Wilder was in the middle of the ship, crouched down on a container, MP-5 at the ready, when he heard the explosion from above. Hot metal went everywhere, sharp edges slicing through the air, heavy chunks thudding onto the river, steaming, and somewhere up there…

"Lucy?" Wilder whispered into the radio, more afraid than he'd ever been in his life.

Silence.

He swallowed. "Lucy?"

Maybe she was just concussed. Maybe…

"Lucy," he said, his voice sharp. "Answer me, damn it."

"Hey," her voice came over the headset, shaky. "I just got blown up. Give me a minute."

"Are you hurt?"

"No," she said, her voice unsteady.

"Are you all right?"

"Yes," she said, but she wasn't. He could tell.

"Where are you bleeding?"

"I'm not-"

"Don't screw with me, Lucy, where did you get hit"'."

"My cheek," she said. "I'll probably have a nice scar.'

"Scars add character. Where else?"

"Thumped the back of my head."

Wilder swore. "Double vision? Dizziness-"

"J.T., a fucking car just blew up behind me. Dizzy, hell, I'm mad. What did that asshole think he was doing? He was going to kill Althea."

"He was creating a diversion," Wilder said, relieved that she was mad. "Probably supposed to keep me busy to give him time to get on the ship without me. I moved too soon."

"The ship's pretty much under the bridge."

"I know," Wilder said. "I'm on it." He looked to the right as his section of the ship cleared the bridge and saw two people dangling on ropes above the waiting speedboat. "Bryce and Althea got off the bridge." They re just not getting off the ropes.

"Are they okay?"

Wilder watched Bryce swing closer to Althea and fumble with her rigging. "Kind of."

"Kind of?"

Use the knife to cut her free, Wilder thought, and still Bryce fumbled.

Wilder went to the side of the ship, trying to keep an eye out for Nash and anything else that would kill him. He waved to get Bryce's attention, and by some miracle, after the fourth or fifth wave, Bryce looked over and stopped, stunned.

Wilder pulled out his knife and waved it at Bryce.

Bryce looked at his own knife.

That's good, Wilder thought, make the connection.

Bryce drew his knife and reached for Althea, and Wilder said a prayer to whoever protected fools and actors, put the sword back in the sheath, and went to look for Nash.


***

Hell, Lucy thought, as her head throbbed. Pepper. Damn it, I can't have a concussion, I have to get Pepper.

"You okay?" Gloom asked.

"Great," Lucy said and looked over the top of the truck bed.

The armored car was in burning pieces all over the bridge, its glow lighting up the center span.

"Get off the bridge," she said to Gloom. "Get everybody packed up and out of base camp. Get them away from this hellhole."

"I'll wait for you in the camper," Gloom said and started down the bridge, giving the burning car a wide berth.

Lucy headed for the rail. The ship was almost completely out from under the bridge now and J.T. was on it. Althea and Bryce were hanging by ropes over the side above the dark water, Bryce waving his knife at Althea in the shadows. No, really, trust Bryce, she thought and then sighed. Below them, Doc waited in the boat, as planned in the stunt as a safety, only the running lights on.

I hate you, too, she thought. Kidnapping bastard.

She straddled the railing and watched as Bryce cut the rope and he and Althea did the short drop into the water.

Don't look down, she thought. God, I hate irony. She clipped the rope to her vest and looked out into the darkness at the skyline as instructed. Then she took a deep breath, threw her other leg over the rail so she was on the river side, and pushed off, extending her brake arm as J.T. had taught her so that she descended a good fifty feet before bringing it in tight and coming to a halt, swinging on the rope.

Then she heard powerful engines rev below, thought, What the hell? and looked down.

No speedboat anymore, just a body in the water.

"No," she said and let go of her brake hand to slide off the rope into the water, hitting hard and shuddering at the cold as she went in. She swam toward the body-Doc-and rolled him over, relieved when he coughed and then worried again when he went limp as she supported him with her arm. It didn't make sense, Doc was one of the bad guys. Who-

She heard the helicopter coming in, which was a damn good thing since she was never going make it to shore with him. Her clothes were soaked and dragging her down, but she couldn't get them off without letting go of him, and if she did that, he'd go under. Even if he was part of the gang that had kidnapped Pepper, she couldn't let him go under.

Water splashed in her face from the blast of the blades overhead and she squinted, looking up. The helicopter was hovering just above them, slowly getting closer and closer.

The skid. It was right there, less than six inches above the water and two feet away. Lucy could see LaFavre in the darkness in the pilot's seat, grinning at her. He wasn't wearing his dark glasses this time but it made no difference as his eyes were covered by night-vision goggles bolted to his flight helmet.

She looped Doc's arm over the metal and then smacked him hard on the cheek. He came to and clutched the skid, more out of instinct than conscious thought, and Lucy grabbed hold of the skid with both hands and pulled herself up onto it. She reached down and grabbed Doc, pulling them both into the chopper to sprawl on the metal floor, where Doc promptly threw up half the river.

Lucy got to her knees as the helicopter lifted and looked at Karen in the back, her wrists handcuffed to a piece of chain, looking like hell.

"I swear, Lucy," she said over the rotor noise. "I didn't know he'd kidnap Pepper."

"Fuck you," Lucy said and took the handcuffs LaFavre indicated on the seat next to him. She cuffed Doc's hands behind his back and then let him fall forward again.

"No one was supposed to get hurt," Karen said, leaning forward, her face earnest. "No one was supposed to even know. That's what Nash told us."

"Well, he lied. And so did you. And then you tried to cut him out and it made him crazy. She leaned forward. I warned you about this when the skid broke. I told you he'd take you down. You stupid bitch, you could have stopped this and now he's got Pepper!"

Karen pulled back, and Lucy rolled Doc over with her foot so he wouldn't fall out if LaFavre banked. Then she climbed between the seats and sat beside LaFavre, who was already gaining altitude. "Did you see Bryce and Althea? Doc was supposed to pick them up but…"

LaFavre shook his head. "Probably on the speedboat. It's by the big ship."

"That's where we're going. We head for the ship and we get J.T. Go."

"Not the plan," LaFavre said.

"Fuck the plan."

He shook his head. "Trust J.T. We stand off, watch and wait for the call. This is about the little sweetie."

Lucy swallowed. "But he's out there alone."

"No, he's not," LaFavre said. "We're here." He nodded to a pair of binoculars hanging between them. "Take those. See if you can find him. It's light enough on that ship."

Lucy picked them up and trained them on the brightly lit ship. "I don't see him."

"Keep looking," LaFavre said, and Lucy leaned forward, her heart pounding as she searched.

Wilder wished he had his night-vision goggles but the ship had its lights on and there was a lot of glow from the bridge overhead, thanks to the burning car. He was pissed. On top of kidnapping Pepper, Nash had been more than willing to blow up Althea, Bryce, and Lucy. What the hell was worth that?

He moved across the top of the stacks of containers, finger on the trigger, wishing the goddamn SEALs would get there, knowing they wouldn't because they had goddamn orders and goddamn Crawford had them winging out toward goddamn Letsky while things were going to shit here.

Over the throb of the ship's engines, he heard a splash off the starboard side and knew he was very close to Nash's position. Another splash. Nash was offloading the cargo, probably for pickup by Doc in the speedboat. Then the boat would go to the rendezvous with the chopper. As long as Nash kept moving and didn't stop to check that the jade was in the boxes, it would work out. Wilder realized the whole cargo-net-on-the-bridge thing had been bullshit. Misdirection by Nash. He wouldn't need the net until the rendezvous. No wonder he was pissed that LaFavre had pointed that out.

Wilder gave a nervous glance to his rear, knowing the ghost might be keeping watch, ready to pick off anybody who interfered. He'd yet to play his hand, which was good since it upped the odds he was actually going to bring Pepper to the rendezvous. And somewhere ahead was Nash with his back pressed so hard against the wall, he was probably through it to the other side. And the other side was pure desperation. And desperate people were the most dangerous of all.

Wilder heard a speedboat cut through the water and thought, Nash's pickup. He worked his way around the last container to see the boat, hearing its engine cut before he got a good look.

It was a cigarette boat, the one favored by drug runners, sleek and fast, stopped now, and Bryce was on the fantail, picking up one of the boxes Nash had dropped. What the hell? Two more boxes were already in the boat, and while Wilder watched, Bryce reached for another one, working fast, faster than Wilder had ever seen him do anything.

Bryce is working with Nash? Wilder thought, dumbfounded.

The world really was screwed up. So much for wingmen.

Then his sat phone vibrated in his pocket, making him jump. God damn. Wilder kept the MP-5 in one hand and pulled it out with the other.

"Wilder," he hissed.

"We got him."

Wilder blinked. Despite the static, it had to be Crawford because no one else would send such a vague message. "Who?"

"Letsky. He put up a fight and we blew his yacht right out of the water. Mission accomplished."

"That's great but-" And then he heard the slightest of sounds behind him and he swung around, dropping the phone and bringing the MP-5 to bear on Nash and pulling the trigger.

Nothing happened.

He automatically began to clear and recock the gun but Nash slammed the stock of his own MP-5 against the side of Wilder's head, dropping him semiconscious to the deck.

"Removed the firing pin the first night you were in the hotel," Nash said. "Before Althea distracted you for me. So busy checking her gear, you never checked your own." He kicked the sat phone overboard.