CHAPTER 45
Okay, I thought, time to call in the police. This clearly was more than we could deal with in any legitimate fashion. It was certainly a crime scene, and most probably some sort of national-security issue.
I could tell the communication process was not working when the emergency operator asked me if I was still on the ferry.
The ferry?
“No, ma’am—I’m over in Sconset. I’m standing on the beach outside Senator Harrison’s rented house on Baxter Road, where there has been a mass shooting.”
This sent the dispatcher into orbit. “Senator who? You’re not on the ferry?”
Why was the dispatcher asking about the ferry?
Was the explosion we’d heard somehow connected to the ferry?
It was becoming clear that more than one bad thing had gone down on this tiny island.
The dispatcher was struggling and the connection was getting garbled, so I hung up.
Hopefully someone would review the call and send officers out eventually.
Like the ambush in Iraq, it was up to me to step up and make some crucial decisions. My guys were pros, and I knew we could develop a battle plan much quicker than the local cops could.
First, though, I dialed Tristan Dent’s secure number. While I waited for him to answer, I had the team do another quick search around the house, looking for anything that might help us figure out who was behind the carnage.
“This is not a robbery gone bad,” I told Tristan after giving him an overview of the crime scene.
“Hell, there hasn’t been anything even approaching this level of violence on Nantucket in probably a century.
There are a lot of rich people here in the summer, but hardly anyone significant enough to attract a Mafia-type revenge hit.
There’s no drug trade beyond recreational use, and no real reason for premeditated crime. ”
“Somebody on that small island in the shitty, cold, North Atlantic has to know something,” Tristan said. “See what you can find in the house.”
“Will do. And let me know if you learn anything about that explosion we heard.”
Next I dialed Si Wilson. “Hey buddy, it’s Nat.”
“We heard a real loud bang or something from down near the harbor,” Si said. “Is something up?”
“No shit something’s up. Listen, for the next hour or so, I need you to keep your eyes open, keep watch on the nearby houses and roads.
Especially your neighbor Harrison’s place.
Don’t go anywhere or engage with anyone—just be my eyes and ears over there.
I need to know what you see. Write shit down and be as detailed as you can. We’ll be over later.”
In a crisis, people not used to living in chaos tend to panic immediately. They move disjointedly away from threats. It’s the ones who seem unfazed that you need to keep an eye on. It was a long shot, but I hoped that Si might be able to catch a glimpse of some type of orderly movement somewhere.
“Tell your mom I said hi too,” Wolf called.
“Asshole.” I shook my head and chuckled.
Getting his first real assignment had Si as excited as a rookie stepping onto the football field for the season opener. He quickly ended our call so that he could start keeping an eye out for any movement around that side of the island.
My first instinct was for all of us to get back to my house on the double, but then I took a moment to reconsider.
We weren’t in a gunfight, and a few minutes to gather the facts would pay bigger dividends in the long run.
I instructed Meg and Oliver to peel off and do a final security sweep of the house, collecting anything that looked useful.
“I got a blood trail, boss!” Wolf cried triumphantly.
Without hesitation, he shined the beam of his gun light down the steps of the porch and into the side yard.
JP and I immediately spread out with our gun lights and followed Wolf’s slow and methodical inspection of the dark stains on the grass.
They were heading away from the road and toward the ocean.
Wolf was a stud in every sense of the word, but particularly with regard to his tactical prowess. Whether it was spotting IEDs or booby traps or just finding shit hidden in plain sight, Wolf had a sixth sense that I had never seen in anyone else.
He zigzagged across the yard and in no time was leading us down a well-worn path toward the beach.
The white lights from Team Rhino showed recent footprints in the sand heading toward the water.
I couldn’t tell how many sets of tracks, but it was clear that at least three or four people had moved in the same direction from the path to the ocean.
Wolf spotted something in the sand and JP moved to investigate. “Check this shit out,” he called over. “It’s a fucking hand—like in Jaws. These SOBs cut off some poor bastard’s hand and just left it on the beach.”
By the time I reached him JP was down on his knees, examining the bloody appendage in the soft wet sand.
It was a surreal tableau.
My mind raced in a feeble attempt to classify what kind of enemy would commit a series of acts that could only be described as pure evil.
We moved in tactical formation back up the hill.
Oliver and Meg returned from their thorough search of the downstairs, and we took one last look at the bodies.
All told, the final count was three dead agents, two dead staff members, and one dead (and nearly naked) female in the bedroom upstairs.
We had no way to identify these people by name, but it was obvious who was Secret Service and who was on Harrison’s staff.
Back at my place, Meg fired up her laptop and connected to the CSTC secure site to see what she could find.
Oliver dumped a bag full of cell phones and notebooks onto my kitchen counter, all of which the team had collected from the senator’s place, and began to inventory them.
JP and Wolf took notes, gathering the facts we knew.
My phone rang. Tristan calling back. “Hey, buddy, have you heard anything?” I asked.
He had—and it was bad. A ferry from Hyannis to Nantucket with at least 100 people on board had exploded just inside the channel to the Nantucket Boat Basin.
Every Coast Guard ship was out searching for survivors.
What’s more, Nantucket Memorial Airport was on fire from multiple explosions on its east-west runway.
A small motel near the airport that the Secret Service was using as an alternate command post and temporary barracks had exploded as well. With the fire and rescue vehicles all at the harbor, the airfield was completely shut down; no fixed-wing aircraft could come in or take off.
Had I not just walked off a kill zone myself, I wouldn’t have believed a word he said.
“Listen closely,” my boss instructed. “I’ve got two birds in preflight right now. They have your number and will be in touch on the secure frequency.”
“Tristan, I think whoever did this has kidnapped and tortured Senator Harrison. I don’t have all the proof, but we can confirm multiple KIA and a human hand down by the ocean.
They must have headed out to sea.” I gave him more details as quickly as I could to fill in the blanks.
“I also have reason to believe they may have abducted a Secret Service agent, probably the special agent in charge.”
We were in unprecedented territory. However we decided to respond to these attacks, it was clear the decisions were going to go straight up the chain of command.
“Nat, I’ve already spoken with the people in DC,” Tristan confirmed.
“Rocket’s Red Glare is a go, immediately.
The secretary of defense is working with the attorney general and the White House to green-light other special-operations forces to interdict any future attacks by what they are calling a terrorist threat.
But for now, buddy, Team Rhino is all we have to save this man’s life.
You have command of this rescue mission.
Bottom line, brother: You need to figure out pretty fucking fast how to find this ship and take it down. Do you copy?”
“What about the missing Secret Service agent?”
I knew the answer already, but it was one of those preprogrammed questions we always ask.
“Senator Harrison is the priority.”