Trouble in Paradise

"A guy named Wilson Cromartie and a guy named James Macklin and probably some others are on the island. I assume the motive is robbery."

"How they going to get off the island?"

"Don't know."

"People on the island?"

"Far as I know, about a hundred."

"I'll get a hostage negotiator up here," Danforth said.

"Good. Let's not get any civilians killed," Jesse said.

"We got a traffic helicopter should be here anytime," Danforth said.

"And a transport chopper if we need one. That'll take a little longer. We got to fly it in from Hanscomb Field."

"Better call it up. We don't want to have to wait for it when we need it."

"Will do," Danforth said.

"What's your plan?"

"I might go ashore."

"Alone?"

"Yeah. Might be a good idea to have someone on the ground."

"Police chiefs don't usually do that kind of work," Danforth said.

"This is a small-town department," Jesse said.

"It's sort of informal here. We all pitch in."

"You don't have anyone else you'd trust?" Danforth said.

"Or you don't want to ask anyone else?"

Jesse shrugged.

"Whatever," he said.

"Who's going to run the department?"

"Molly," Jesse said, "and Suit." He nodded at Simpson.

"I ought to come with you, Jesse," Suitcase said.

"You stay here. Molly shouldn't have to run it alone."

"You remember what that cop said in Tucson," Suitcase said.

"I'm not going up against anyone," Jesse said.

"I'm just reco

"I could cover your back," Suit said.

"You're too big to scoot around in the bushes," Jesse said.

"You go with Lieutenant Danforth. Molly will stand by in the station, and I will have a look see on the island."

"How you going to get there?" Suitcase said.

"I'm working on that."

"Doc?"

"He's been around this harbor all his life," Jesse said.

"You going to have him put you in the water?"

"Probably," Jesse said.

"And?" Suit said.

"And we'll see," Jesse said.

FIFTY-EIGHT.

The helicopter came up from the south east, across the causeway to Paradise Neck' and then across the harbor. It hovered for a time over the explosion site, then banked suddenly and flew down the Stiles Islam coast and paused again, this time over the boat house explosion.

It moved away from the yacht clut and began unhurriedly to fly back and forth over Stiles Island, looking at what there was to look at. Across the emptj span where the bridge had hung, there was a gathering of trucks and automobiles and people. The helicopter paused again over the small downtown where people were gathered in the street, looking up, then moved on toward the open ocean side of the island where the restaurant was located.

In the van, Crow heard the helicopter first and glanced up through the van window. It wasn't in sight yet. As the van pulled up beside the restaurant, they all heard it.

"Chopper," Fran said.

Macklin looked up through the van window and watched the helicopter come in over the treetops and hover over them. Then he got out of the van and walked around to the back and opened the doors.

"Everybody out," he said, and the six women climbed out and stood silently beside the van.

The helicopter dropped down a little and Macklin fired four rounds from his handgun at it. The helicopter heeled sharply and soared in the same motion and was out of range almost at once.

"Let 'em know we're here," Macklin said.

"I think they know that," Crow said.

"They're going to know it even more in a minute," Macklin said.

"JD, gimme the cell phone."

Five hundred yards offshore, holding the boat steady against the rough chop, Freddie Costa watched the helicopter fly back across the island, out of pistol range. The prow of the boat pounded steadily as the short waves pushed at it. He looked at his watch.

Three and a half hours.

Across the island, across Stiles Island gut, where the roiling water foamed over the wreckage of the bridge on the Paradise side, in the mobile operations command truck, a radio operator talked with the helicopter pilot. Ray Danforth stood listening. Suitcase Simpson was with him, looking a little uncomfortable among the State SWAT team cops with their black fatigues and their assault weapons and their funky gun belts.

"I think the bandits are at the restaurant on the open ocean side of the island. We drew some small arms fire," the pilot said.

"There's a power boat maybe four, five hundred yards offshore. From here, it doesn't look like he can get closer."

"Okay," Danforth said to the radio operator.

"Tell them to stay out of range but monitor."

He turned to Suitcase.

"When is high tide around here?"

"Don't know," Suitcase said, "but I'll find out."

"Do that," Danforth said.

FIFTY-NINE.

"Lemme call Carleton Jencks," Doc said.

"Snapper's father?"

"Yeah. He knows the harbor better than I do."