“That’s good,” Josh said. “If it was up to me, I’d order them to bomb the shit out of the island and be done with it.”
Voss’s expression softened and he saw a rare glimmer of fear in her eyes. “Me, too. If it’s anything like what you said—”
“It’s exactly like I said. You’ve got to get Turcotte to recall that team. Get those people off the ship.”
She shook her head. “Look at him, Josh. That’s not going to happen.”
“Then people are going to die.”
“Have a little faith,” Voss chided him.
Josh sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “You’re not listening, either. I lost my faith last night. We should sink that ship. Better yet, blow it apart.”
He glanced at the Antoinette again. His shoulder throbbed and he wondered if it was too soon to take another Vicodin. He tried to pull together stray thoughts, to make sense of what he’d heard.
“Let me see if I’ve got this straight,” he said. “We’ve got FBI, Coast Guard, and ICE on the case, but the DOD says, ‘screw Homeland Security and the Department of Justice, we call dibs’? And nobody argues?”
“We don’t know if anyone argued, Josh. But you know if the Department of Defense wants in, they’re in. All anyone has to tell the Joint Chiefs is that it’s a matter of national security.”
“How is it a matter of national security?”
“I wondered the same thing.” Voss lowered her voice. “And I’ve wondered why, if Homeland Security pulled out ICE, they didn’t pull out the Coast Guard as well. Not that I want them to abandon us out here, but still, it’s odd, don’t you think?”
Josh turned that one over for a moment. “No. Think about it. What does this Coast Guard ship have that the ICE guys didn’t bring to the party?”
“You mean besides a helicopter?”
Josh nodded, turning to survey the deck of the Kodiak.
“Yeah.”
Voss looked to see what had caught his attention. “Ah. Of course. A big fucking cannon.”
“Not to mention pulling ICE away from the scene limits the number of people and agencies who will be exposed to the truth of what’s on that island, once we have our marching orders.”
“They’re moving fast,” Voss said. “Like they’ve got a plan.”
“Maybe they do, but don’t be surprised if it changes when they get a look at the things down there. It isn’t going to be as simple as doing pest control.”
Josh nodded toward Turcotte, Rouleau, and O’Connell. “What about this? If we have orders to secure and wait, where does Turcotte get off boarding the Antoinette?”
“Orders were to stay away from the island, but no one mentioned the Antoinette.”
“And he’s trying to use that loophole to close the case before the new boss shows up.”
“That’s about it.”
Any other time, Josh would not have been surprised. Really, he wouldn’t have blamed Turcotte at all. But the usual parameters did not apply here. FBI standard operating procedure had to be completely thrown out the window, and so did any concern for individual cases. They had discovered a new and deadly species. The things were smart enough to have used the Mariposa as bait, and Josh had to wonder if they had purposely let the lifeboat escape the night before for the same reason — to lure more prey back to the island. How many had they killed already? How many people had been on board the derelict ships that had been sunk in the island’s shallows?
How did one gun-smuggling case matter in the face of that?
But Turcotte hadn’t seen the creatures — the things Tori had called sirens — up close. If he had, he would have understood.
“He’s got to call them back,” Josh said.
“Wait,” Voss replied.
Josh went to the railing and stared across the span of water that separated the Kodiak from the Antoinette. The small Coast Guard launch bobbed beside the massive container ship, waiting for the FBI team to return. No one moved up on the deck. Turcotte’s people had either gone into the accommodations block or belowdecks.
“This is a huge mistake,” he said.
O’Connell’s radio crackled. “Come in, Dan. We’re in.”
“This is O’Connell,” the older agent said into his handheld. “Any sign of survivors?”
“Nada. It’s quiet in here.”
“Do a room by room search for the contraband. If you don’t come up with anything, we’ll start checking the containers out on deck. Check in every fifteen minutes.”
“Will do.”
At least he asked about survivors first, Josh thought. He watched the deck of the Antoinette expectantly, but after they had all stood in silence for several minutes, he began to breathe easier. Maybe the things had all retreated to the island before dawn, once they had gotten what they came for. Once they had fed.
“Maybe—” Voss started to say, but her words were interrupted by gunfire.
“Shit,” Turcotte snarled.
O’Connell barked into his radio, but the only replies, amidst the static on the handheld, were screams.
66
Despite the sun bearing down on her, Rachael Voss felt cold. She stood with her arms crossed, staring across at the Antoinette. Nearly half an hour had passed while Coast Guard personnel boarded the container ship and approached every door without entering, under orders to stay out of any closed area. They were armed and careful and there were no more screams, but those of the FBI team Turcotte had sent over lingered in her mind.
Josh and Pavarotti stood behind her, talking quietly with Nadeau and McIlveen — two other members of their St. Croix field division squad. They were all spooked, eyes blank and haunted, and Voss knew their expressions mirrored her own. Only Josh seemed to have begun to recover, if the storm clouds in his eyes were any evidence. He had tried to warn Turcotte. Gabe Rio and the other survivors of the Antoinette had done the same.
Turcotte and O’Connell had barely moved from the place they had been standing when the shit hit the fan, but they were alone there now. Voss had moved up to the bow of the Kodiak, where several off-duty seamen were taking a cigarette break, and the rest of her team had joined her there. They came together in a crisis, her squad. If anything could make her feel safe under the circumstances, it was that.
She watched Turcotte, observed the slump of his shoulders, and felt sorry for him. The guy could be a total asshole, but he had tried to get clever, following orders to the letter but still attempting to hold on to his case. Voss suspected she might have done the same thing in his shoes, or at least considered it. Now most of Turcotte’s squad was dead; only himself, O’Connell, and two others still lived. And all he could do was wait for the shitstorm that would no doubt result from his colossal fuckup, and grieve for good men.
Voss watched the Coast Guard launch surging in the water, returning from the Antoinette with only five people on board. She glanced across at the container ship and its blocky, rusty cargo, and shivered.
“Special Agent Voss?”
She turned to see Cornelius Sykes coming toward her. Behind her, Josh and the other guys came to attention and huddled close. Whatever news Sykes brought, they wanted in on it.
“Lieutenant Commander?” Voss said.
Sykes had about him the grim air of the consummate soldier. He viewed her as the commanding officer of her squad — which, technically, she was — and so he didn’t even glance at the other agents.
“The captain has asked me to update you, ma’am.”