22. Admiral
22
ADMIRAL
T he SUVs came to a stop in a defensive triangle formation that spoke of tactical training. My first thought was bureau SWAT, but the vehicles’ positioning was too perfect—this was a higher level of operational expertise.
“Status?” I barked into my comms.
“Eight tangos deploying,” Tank reported. “Full tactical gear, encrypted comms. This isn’t bureau standard issue.”
“Hostiles?”
“Negative on ID yet, but they’re moving like tier-one operators.”
That meant Special Forces training or equivalent. Not Castellano’s usual muscle. My mind raced through the possibilities—private military contractors, black ops teams, someone with virtually unlimited resources.
I pulled Alice closer as we moved through the camp’s lower level. “Diesel, what’s our exit strategy?”
“Lake route is clear. Doc’s got a seaplane inbound, ETA twelve minutes.”
Twelve minutes might as well be twelve hours. If our guys didn’t stop them, the team moving in would breach in two.
“Blackjack, initiate Echo protocol,” I ordered, leading Alice toward the boathouse.
“Roger that,” he responded, tightening our communications’ level of encryption.
“Admiral.” Tank’s voice was strained. “You need to see this.”
I checked the feed on my phone and felt my blood run cold. The team leader had removed his tactical helmet, revealing a face I knew all too well.
“Son of a bitch,” I breathed.
“You know him?” Alice asked.
“Jason Huxley. Former assistant director of internal affairs.” The same man Grit had said was leading the task force. “So much for rumors of early onset dementia.”
“Apparently,” Alice said grimly.
The pieces clicked into place. Huxley wasn’t here as FBI—he was here as someone’s cleanup crew. Which meant we’d been right about the corruption going higher than the bureau.
“Admiral, we’ve got a second team approaching from the north,” Kodiak reported. “Similar loadout, different tactical pattern.”
They were boxing us in, using coordinated teams to cut off escape routes. Professional operators who knew exactly what they were doing.
“What’s the seaplane’s ETA?” I asked.
“Doc told the pilot to step on it. Four minutes out.”
“Come on. There’s a skiff in the boathouse we should be able to take far enough out to meet the aircraft.”
“The lake’s frozen,” Alice pointed out.
I smiled grimly. “Not all of it.”
The industrial bubblers I’d installed years ago kept sections ice-free through the winter. It was meant to protect the docks—now, it would be our way to safety, as long as the pilot didn’t run us over when he landed.
I pulled the lower-level side door of the boathouse open. It bypassed the main entrance and went straight to the docks as opposed to the upper levels, where the K19 guys had set up their command center and were bunking.
“Boss,” Tank cut in urgently. “No one else is deploying from the vehicles. It’s a smoke?—”
His warning came too late. In front of me, a man I didn’t recognize stood between us and the skiff, with a gun pointed in our direction. Someone to our left yanked Alice away from me and clamped their hand over her mouth.
Chad Sweeney materialized from the shadows on the right.
“Don’t,” he said calmly when I reached for my weapon. “We both know how this ends if you try.”
Alice’s eyes met mine, wide with fear but also determination. We’d been so focused on Huxley’s theatrical approach that we’d missed the real threat slipping in behind us.
And now, the man I’d trusted—my mentor, my friend—held the woman I loved at gunpoint.
“All this time,” Sweeney said, his voice dripping with condescension as he pressed his gun harder against Alice’s temple, “I hoped you’d figure it out on your own. The great Agent Kane, with his sterling record and unwavering moral compass.” He chuckled darkly. “But you were too busy playing house with a criminal to see what was right in front of you.”
My muscles coiled, ready to spring, but the gun trained on Alice kept me frozen. One wrong move, and she’d pay the price.
“You know what your problem is, Pershing?” Sweeney continued, using his free hand to brush a strand of hair from Alice’s face. She jerked away from his touch, making him tighten his grip. “You’re too damned loyal. Too high and mighty, just like Sarah was. She could’ve walked away, taken the money that would’ve meant she’d be set for life. Instead, she had to play the hero. Sarah died for the same reason you both will if you don’t agree to play this my way.”
“Don’t you say her name,” Alice snarled.
Sweeney’s expression hardened. “Your sister made her choice. Just like Bobby did. Just like you’re about to.” He turned back to me. “So what’s it going to be, Admiral? Are you going to watch another woman die because of your holier-than-God moral stance? Or are you going to be smart for once?”
The gunshot that cracked through the boathouse came from behind Sweeney. He stumbled forward, his grip on Alice loosening just enough for her to drive her elbow back into his solar plexus and twist free.
“Get down!” Two voices shouted simultaneously from different directions.
I recognized Grit’s instantly, but the other was unfamiliar, though I knew immediately who it belonged to—Alessandro Castellano. I tackled Alice behind a stack of crates as more gunfire erupted, shielding her body with mine.
“Stay down,” I ordered as the shootout continued all around us.
“Alessandro’s here,” I said into my comms, still processing the reality of the situation. “Repeat. Alessandro Castellano is in the boathouse.”
“So is Grit,” Tank responded. “Neither appeared on the sensors. Motherfuckers must’ve jammed the system.”
I pulled Alice closer as another exchange of gunfire erupted above us. Through gaps in the crates, I tracked the unfolding firefight. Grit had taken up a defensive position near the main doors while Alessandro, who looked nothing like his surveillance photos, was systematically working his way around the perimeter, forcing Sweeney’s team to divide their attention.
The distinctive sound of an approaching seaplane cut through the gunfire. Our extraction was almost here—if we could reach the water. I studied the space between us and the dock access, calculating angles and cover. We’d have to time this perfectly.
“Tank,” I said into my comms. “Status on Huxley’s team?”
“Still holding position outside. They haven’t breached.”
Because they didn’t need to. Sweeney’s crew on the inside was supposed to quietly take us out while Huxley’s group provided the visible threat. It was a classic misdirection that we’d fallen for completely. If Grit and Alessandro hadn’t intervened when they did, we’d either be dead or taken hostage. There was no way the rest of our guys could’ve gotten to us in the split second the other two had.
I pushed the thought aside. Right now, we needed to focus on survival. The rest—sorting out allies from enemies, unraveling the layers of deception, and finding justice for Sarah—would have to wait.
“Admiral.” Grit’s voice came through my earpiece. “North corner has the cleanest exit line. Alessandro’s got the others pinned down. You’ll have about three seconds.”
Alice’s hand found mine, and she squeezed. We were out of time and options.
“On my mark,” I said, both to her and through the comms. The plane’s engine grew louder. Our window of escape was closing.
I took one last glance at the man who’d mentored me, who I’d trusted. Sweeney’s face was a mask of cold determination as he tried to maneuver for a shot around the crossfire Grit and Alessandro had created.
“Now!” I pulled Alice up, and we ran, bullets tearing into the crates behind us as Sweeney’s men opened fire. But Grit’s and Alessandro’s cover kept them from getting a clean shot as we sprinted toward the outside dock.
The bitter cold struck our faces as we burst outside. Behind us, the gunfight intensified. Ahead, I could see the plane’s running lights approaching through the fog that covered the lake.
We weren’t safe yet. But for the first time since Sweeney’s ambush, we had a fighting chance.
“We have to get past the ice,” I said, pulling Alice toward the channel the bubblers had kept clear. The skiff was our only chance of reaching the plane, but with bullets now splintering the dock around us, even those few yards felt like miles.
“Cover the north side!” I heard Grit shout from inside the boathouse. More gunfire erupted, but it wasn’t directed at us. He and Alessandro were still providing cover and had been joined by Tank, Blackjack, and Atticus, keeping Sweeney’s team pinned down.
I helped Alice into the skiff, my hands shaking as I untied the line. The small boat rocked violently when I jumped in after her. Starting the motor felt like it took hours, though it couldn’t have been more than seconds.
The seaplane touched down with a roar, sending up a massive spray as it cut through the dark water. Its landing lights illuminated the channel I needed to follow through the ice field.
“Incoming!” Diesel’s voice crackled through my comms. “Huxley’s team is moving!”
I gunned the motor, steering us toward the aircraft that was now taxiing toward us. The skiff’s bow cut through the icy water, each wave that broke over us feeling like needles against my skin. Alice gripped the gunwale with white knuckles as I maneuvered around the larger ice chunks.
A bullet punched through the hull near the waterline. Then another.
“We’re taking on water,” Alice said, her voice remarkably steady.
“We’re almost there.” The seaplane was drawing alongside us, its pilot expertly keeping the wings clear of the ice flows. A figure appeared in the doorway—Doc.
Another shot rang out as he pulled Alice inside just as the skiff’s bow dipped below the waterline.
When yet another shot rang out, the motor died.
I dove into the frigid lake, forcing my numb limbs to swim the few feet to the plane’s pontoon. Hands grabbed my jacket, dragging me up and in. The door slammed shut behind me.
“Go!” Doc shouted to the pilot. The engines roared as we began picking up speed.
I pulled Alice close, both of us shivering violently as the plane lifted off the lake’s surface. Through the window, I could see muzzle flashes still lighting up the boathouse. Our escape had been covered by a man I’d accused of being an enemy to me and the rest of the agents who served under and above him at the FBI and another I believed was second-in-command of a powerful and deadly crime family.
“Here.” Doc tossed us more blankets. “Merrigan and Bryar are waiting in a secure camp on Caroga Lake. We’ll be there in ten minutes.”
I nodded, too cold to speak. Alice pressed closer to me under the blankets, and I held her tighter. We were alive, but this was far from over. The last I saw, Sweeney was still alive. Who knew what kind of firepower he’d really brought with him. But so were Grit and Alessandro, whose timely arrival had saved our lives.
“What now?” Alice whispered, her teeth chattering.
I kissed her temple. “Now, we figure out what the fuck this all means, then finish what Sarah started.”
“It’s over,” said Doc once we were in the air, flying over Kane Mountain. “Here. Tank’s on the line.” He handed me a satphone.
“We’ve got Sweeney,” Tank’s voice crackled through the phone. Despite the poor connection, I detected satisfaction in his tone. “Grit winged him in the shoulder. He’s not going anywhere.”
“Huxley?” I asked.
“Blackjack got him in the leg. He’s in custody too. Three of their team are dead. The rest raised the white flag as soon as they realized who they were up against.”
I pulled Alice closer under the blankets Doc had given us, both of us still shivering from our frigid escape to the plane. Her teeth had finally stopped chattering, but her hands were like ice when I took them in mine.
“Alessandro’s explaining everything,” Tank continued. “You’re not gonna believe this, boss. He’s been working with the DOJ for years, gathering evidence against Vincent and the corrupt officials in his pocket.”
Actually, I could believe it. The pieces were finally falling into place—Alessandro’s perfectly maintained cover as the ruthless enforcer while systematically documenting the organization’s activities, the way he’d helped Alice trace the corruption, his timely arrival at the boathouse.
“What about our guys?” I asked. “Everyone okay?”
“All accounted for. Grit took a graze to the arm, but he’s refusing treatment until things are secured here.”
Of course he was. I owed that man one hell of an apology. He’d saved our lives tonight, proving his loyalty beyond any doubt.
“Also, can you let Alice know that Alessandro and the DOJ have proof it was Vincent who had Bobby murder Sarah, then ordered the hit on him? He’ll be charged for both. It was the final piece of the puzzle they were waiting for to finally start the indictments against him.”
“I will let her know, and thank you, Tank.”
“You got it, boss.”
“We’re about five minutes out from Caroga Lake,” Doc said from the copilot’s seat. “Merrigan and Bryar are ready and anxiously awaiting our arrival.”
I nodded, too exhausted to try to figure out what that meant. Too exhausted to even speak. The adrenaline crash was hitting hard, made worse by the bone-deep cold from the lake water. But we were alive. We had Sweeney and his crew in custody. Most importantly, I had Alice safe in my arms.