NYPD Red

Chapter 83



“CAPTAIN,” I SAID, “I know I should have taken your call, but—”

“We’ll have plenty of time for repercussions later, Detective,” she said. “Right now, I want the short version of what went down.”

I gave it to her in under sixty seconds. Kylie stood by my side and didn’t say a word.

“And you’re sure Benoit is on the yacht?” Cates said.

“As sure as we can be, but he’s fooled us before. I wouldn’t pull any of the units you have covering the other events.”

“Okay,” she said, “what do we need to catch this son of a bitch?”

“A boarding vessel,” I said. “Kylie knows the layout of the yacht, and we can both spot Benoit. Just get the two of us on board.”

“Three of you,” Cates said. “This time you’re not going anywhere without a bomb tech.”

“Fair enough, Captain.”

“You see any C4, you point it out to the tech. You got lucky once, but you will not—repeat, not—attempt to disable any explosives. Your only job is to disable Benoit. Understood?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Get moving. I’ll call you with the details.”

I was about to bolt when Cates held up her hand. She stared at me, stone-faced. “And Jordan…make sure your phone is on.”





Chapter 84



WITHIN MINUTES, KYLIE and I were back in the PPV doing ninety on West Street barreling toward South Street Seaport.

There may only be seventy-five cops attached to NYPD Red, but there are another thirty-five thousand brothers and sisters in blue who’ve got our backs—and our fronts. By the time we entered the South Street Viaduct, which tunnels under Battery Park, we had two motorcycle cops from Highway Patrol clearing our path.

“Hot damn!” Kylie yelled. “We’re getting a police escort.”

Captain Cates had the full power of the New York City Police Department at her fingertips, and when we emerged from the tunnel, it was clear that she hadn’t hesitated to use it.

The road in front of us was clear. No, it was empty. FDR Drive, which is often preceded by the words “heavy backups” on the 1010 WINS traffic reports, didn’t have a single car on it—northbound or southbound.

One look at the service road, and I could see that there was plenty of traffic just waiting to clog it up, but there were squad cars with flashing lights at every entrance ramp holding them back.

Cates called, and I put her on speaker.

“We got lucky. We’ve got our bomb techs spread out across the city, and Jeff Ordway was on standby half a mile from the Seaport. Sergeant Ordway is one of our best. Jim Rothlein from Harbor Patrol will meet the three of you at Pier 17. He’s in an unmarked boat with a plainclothes crew so you can get close to the yacht without looking like cops. I’ve also scrambled Scuba and SWAT, but I’m keeping them out of sight. Benoit can’t know there’s an armada bearing down on him. This has to run like Special Ops.”

“How about the captain of the yacht?” I asked. “According to Spence, this guy Campion’s lifelong dream is to take down a pirate on the high seas. I don’t want him to go all Steven Seagal on us.”

“Rothlein radioed him on the NYPD frequency and told him to prepare to be boarded. As far as Campion knows, you’re just doing some routine follow-up on the shooting at the funeral home, and you couldn’t wait for the boat to dock tonight—nothing that would set off his cowboy genes.”

“MacDonald says there’s a swimming platform at the stern,” I said. “Can you arrange for us to board there?”

“Rothlein thinks it’s too visible,” Cates said. “There’s a cargo hold door on the starboard side. It’s harder to see from the top deck. Once you get close, the yacht will slow down, but not enough for Benoit to get suspicious. A couple of crewmen will open the cargo door and extend a ramp. The three of you will have to jump while both boats are moving at a pretty good clip.”

Making a sideways leap from a moving boat onto a narrow ramp was not nearly as easy as jumping forward onto a low-hanging double-wide swim platform would have been, but Cates was right. This had to run like Special Ops.

“Getting on board won’t be a problem,” I said.

“Once you’re on board, get Ordway to the engine room. Benoit is smart—he’ll know that’s where he can do the most damage. Odds are he plans to jump ship and set his bombs off by remote. Your job is to keep him from getting off that boat, because I guarantee you that as soon as he’s a hundred yards away, he’ll blow it up and laugh while it burns. I’ve got fireboats and EMS units tailing you, and I’ve got choppers and a chase team, but I’ve only got the two of you to keep him from pushing that button.”

“We can handle it, Captain,” I said.

“I’m counting on you, Jordan. Me and a hundred other people,” she said. “Put MacDonald on the horn.”

I held the cell phone close to Kylie. “Right here, Captain.”

“I’ve got a message from your husband. FDNY cut him out of the floor, he’s on his way to NYU Medical, and he loves you.”

“Tell him I love him, too,” Kylie said.

“I have a better idea,” Cates said. “Make sure you get your ass back here in one piece and tell him yourself.”