Hogan continued her course for five minutes and then came around in a great half-circle to the north and landed on a high school football field. Two cars crammed with FBI agents were waiting when the helicopter touched down.
Griffin twisted in his seat to face Pitt. “I’ll take my team and enter through the front gate that opens onto the loading dock. You and Giordino remain with Hogan and act as aerial observers. Should be a routine operation.”
“Routine operation,” Pitt replied acidly. “Walk up to the gate, flash your shiny FBI badge and watch everybody cringe. Never happen. These people kill like you and I swat mosquitoes. Driving up in the open is an invitation to get your head blown off. You’d be smart to wait and call up reinforcements.”
Griffin’s face showed he was not one to be told how to run his business. He ignored Pitt and gave instructions to Hogan.
“Give us two minutes to reach the gate before you take off and circle the warehouse. Open a frequency with our field communications office and inform them of the situation. And tell them to relay our reports to Bureau headquarters in Washington.”
He stepped to the ground and got in the lead car. They drove around the high school gymnasium onto the almost invisible road that led to the Bougainville docking facility and disappeared over the levee.
Hogan raised the helicopter into the air and went on the radio. Pitt moved to the co-pilot’s seat and watched as Griffin and his men approached a high chain-link fence enclosing the pier and warehouse. With a mounting uneasiness he observed Griffin leave the car and stand at the gate, but no one appeared to confront him.
“Something’s happening,” said Hogan. “The tow-boat and barge are moving.”
She was right. The towboat began to slip away from the pier, pushing the barge with its blunt snout. The helmsman expertly maneuvered the two craft into the main stream and turned toward the gulf.
Pitt grabbed a spare microphone/headset. “Griffin!” he snapped, “the barge is being moved from the area. Forget the ship and warehouse. Return to the road and take up the chase.”
“I read you,” Griffin’s voice acknowledged.
Abruptly, doors flew open on the ship and the crew scrambled across the decks, tearing canvas covers off two hidden gun emplacements on the foredeck and stern. The trap was sprung.
“Griffin!” Pitt shouted into the microphone. “Get out. For God’s sake, get out.”
The warning came too late. Griffin leaped into the lead car, which roared off toward the safety of the levee as 20-millimeter Oerlikon machine guns began rapping out a deadly hail. Bullets tore into the wildly careening car, shattering windows, shredding the thin metal like cardboard and ripping through the flesh and bones of those inside. The rear car coasted to a stop, bodies spilling out onto the ground, some lying still, some trying to crawl for cover. Griffin and his men made it over the top of the levee, but all of them were badly wounded.
Pitt had whipped open the violin case, stuck the barrel of the Thompson out the side window and sprayed the bow gun of the Burns.Hogan instantly realized what he was up to and banked the helicopter to give him a better angle of fire. Men fell around the deck, never knowing where the deadly barrage came from. The gunners on the stern were more alert. They swung their Oerlikon from Griffin and his agents and began spewing its shells into the sky. Hogan made a game effort to dodge the fire that missed not by feet but inches. She kicked the helicopter around the ship as though it had a charmed life as the one-sided gun duel clattered over the river.
Then the trajectory from the Burnsswayed through the air and hammered into the helicopter. Pitt threw up an arm to protect his eyes as the windshield disintegrated and blew into the cockpit. Steel-nosed bullets punctured the thin aluminum fuselage and wreaked havoc with the engine.
“Ah can’t see,” Hogan announced in a surprisingly calm voice. Her face ran crimson from several cuts, most of the blood streaming from a scalp wound into her eyes, blinding her.
Except for a few deep scratches on his arm, Pitt was untouched. He passed the machine gun to Giordino, who was wrapping a sleeve torn from his shirt around a shell gash on his right calf. The helicopter was losing power and dipping sharply toward the middle of the river. Pitt reached out and took the controls from Hogan and banked away from a sudden murderous fire that erupted from the towboat. A dozen men appeared from the pilothouse and a hatch on top of the barge and wildly threw automatic weapons fire at the battered helicopter.
Oil was streaming out of the engine, and the rotor blades were madly vibrating. Pitt reduced the collective pitch to keep the rotor speed from falling too quickly. He saw the instrument panel break into fragments from a storm of bullets. He was fighting a hopeless battle; he couldn’t hold on to the sky much longer. The forward motion dropped off and he was losing lateral control.
On the ground behind the levee, Griffin sat on his knees in helpless rage, holding a shattered wrist, watching the helicopter struggle like a great mortally wounded bird. The fuselage was so riddled by holes he couldn’t believe anybody on board was still alive. He watched the craft slowly die, dragging a long trail of smoke as it faltered and limped upriver, barely clearing a grove of trees along the bank and disappearing from sight.
69
Sandecker sat in Emmett’s private office at FBI headquarters and chewed idly on a cigar stub, his thoughts depleted. Brogan nervously juggled a half-empty cup of coffee that had long since turned cold.
General Metcalf walked in and sat down. “You all look like pallbearers,” he said with forced cheerfulness.
“Isn’t that what we are?” said Brogan. “As soon as the Senate convicts, all that’s left to do is hold the wake.”
“I’ve just come from the Senate reception room,” Metcalf said. “Secretary Oates is buttonholing members of the President’s party, trying to persuade them to hold off.”
“What are his chances?” asked Sandecker.
“Nil. The Senate is only going through the formality of a trial. Four hours from now, it will all be over.”
Brogan shook his head disgustedly. “I hear Moran has Chief Justice O’Brien standing by to administer the oath.”
“The oily bastard won’t waste a second,” Emmett muttered.
“Any word from Louisiana?” Metcalf asked.
Emmett gave the general a negative look. “Not for an hour. The last report from my agent in charge of the field office said he was making a sweep of a promising dock site.”
“Any concrete reason to believe Margolin is hidden in the delta?”
“Only a stab in the dark by my special projects director,” replied Sandecker.
Metcalf looked at Emmett. “What are you doing about the Bougainvilles?”
“I’ve assigned nearly fifty agents to the case.”
“Can you make an arrest?”
“A waste of time. Min Koryo and Lee Tong would be back on the streets in an hour.”
“Surely there must be enough evidence.”
“Nothing the Attorney General can sink his teeth into. Most of their illegal operations are managed outside our borders in Third World nations that aren’t overly friendly toward the United States—”
The phone buzzed.
“Emmett.”
“Agent Goodman in communications, sir.”
“What is it, Goodman?”
“I have contact with agent Griffin in Louisiana.”
“About time,” Emmett snapped impatiently. “Put me through.”
“Hold on.” There was a pause broken by an audible click, and then Emmett heard the sound of labored breathing. He switched on the speaker amplifer so the others could hear.
“Griffin, this is Sam Emmett, can you hear me?”
“Yes, sir, very clearly.” The words seemed uttered in pain. “We ran… ran into trouble.”
“What happened?”
“We spotted a Bougainville cargo ship tied to a pier beside a barge and towboat about seventy miles below New Orleans. Before my team and I could gain entry for a search, we were fired upon by heavy weapons mounted on the ship. Everyone was hit… I have two killed and seven wounded, including myself. It was a massacre.” The voice choked and went quiet for a few moments. When it came back on the line the tone was noticeably weaker. “Sorry for not making contact sooner, but our communications gear was shot out and I had to walk two miles before I could find a telephone.”