“The Hana.”

“Spell it.”

Tamorov was staring at the floor now, and he spelled the prince’s name and the name of the yacht, then said, “That is all I know.”

I hope that’s all I need to know. I said to him, “If you pray, Georgi, say a prayer for Mrs. Tamorov and for a million other innocent people.”

He nodded, and I thought I heard him say, “My God.”

“As my mother used to say to me, pick your friends carefully.”

Tess and I left Georgi Tamorov to contemplate the results of his bad choices.

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

Out on the back deck, the Suffolk County PD had arrived. Phil Florio and Beth Penrose, as the first responding detectives, were in charge, and they were conversing with two uniformed sergeants.

Detective Florio seemed anxious to get a team together to go upstairs and bust the Ivans and their ladies, but I told him he needed to go to the living room and sit on Tamorov and not let him communicate with anyone.

Someone had found the audio controls and shut off the music, and I could hear the surf breaking on the shore. There was no sea breeze and the fog lay motionless over the ocean and the beach. The floodlights came on and reflected off the mist, adding more weirdness to an already surreal night.

I texted Scott Kalish: You are looking for a yacht named The Hana. Owned by a Saudi prince, Ali Faisel. Will call you later.

Tess asked me, “How did you know about a yacht?”

“From Dmitry, the driver.”

She nodded, and came to the same conclusion I did. “The nuke would not be on a Russian ship. But it could have come from one.”

“Correct.”

“And this Saudi prince will look like a nuclear terrorist. Or he actually is a terrorist.”

“It almost doesn’t matter at this point. But we’ll know when we find The Hana.”

“I hope it’s The Hana that we’re looking for.”

“It is.”

“And that we’re not too late.”

I was fairly sure now that the attack was supposed to look like a jihadist follow-up to 9/11—or it actually was, if this Saudi prince was in cahoots with Petrov. I said to Tess, “I think we have until eight forty-six A.M. or nine oh-three A.M.”

She looked at me, then nodded.

“Unless Petrov is spooked and goes early.”

She had no reply.

Tess and I found Detective Penrose talking to a uniformed sergeant about how best to get a few dozen naked people out of the pool, dressed, cuffed, and into the waiting prisoner bus.

I said to Beth, “The homeowner, Mr. Tamorov, is inside with Florio. I have told Tamorov about Radiant Angel and he needs to be kept in strict isolation. The only phone call he’s allowed to make is to you. Give him your card and instruct him to ask someone at the county lockup for permission to call you if he remembers anything further. Call me and I’ll get back to him.” I added, “And please be sure Mr. Tamorov writes a check to Hampton Catering. Twenty-five thousand.”

“Does he get the police raid discount?”

Funny. Even Tess laughed. I also asked Beth, “Has anyone found our cell phones?”

“Unfortunately, the caterers grabbed the whole basket when you told them to leave.” She scolded me, “You are not supposed to let anyone leave the premises.”

“They had a tough day.”

“Me too. And I’m still here.”

“Well, I’m leaving. But please send someone to get our phones, deliver the check, and remind Dean Hampton to keep quiet. National security.”

She reminded me, “You and Ms. Faraday and your team have to log in your presence.”

Sounded like my wife. Another stickler for rules. Even when the world was about to blow up. “We’ll be sure to log in and log out.”

“Where are you going?”

“Just between us, I’m going out on a SAFE boat.”

“I suppose that’s better than having to deal with all this.”

“I always know when to run from a shit storm.”

“You usually run into a worse one.”

“That’s my M.O.”

Ms. Faraday sensed a private moment coming, so she moved off to where Steve and Matt were speaking to another uniformed sergeant.

Beth and I looked at each other, and I said, “It’s good to see you again.”

She didn’t reply.

She wasn’t wearing a wedding band, but in this business you often don’t. I said, “I married that woman.”

“Congratulations.”

“You?”

“Looking for a rich Russian.”

“You came to the right place.”

Well, that seemed to cover it, so I got down to business and asked, “Have you spoken to Scott Kalish?”

“I did.”

“So you understand there are no rules tonight.” I added, “I want all these people kept under wraps until at least noon tomorrow. Make up some charges.”

“The FBI will be all over this in an hour.”

Not to mention the CIA if they were working with the State Department. I advised her, “If my name comes up, you don’t know where I went.”

“All right. But can I mention that you appeared crazy as ever?”

“That’s our secret.” I added, “I’m sure we’ll be in touch when you write your report.”

“I’m sure the Feds will make you unavailable for the next ten years.”

Longer, if the CIA whacked me. “Call me anytime.”

“You don’t have a phone.”

I smiled. “You’ll find it. Meanwhile, Tess and I are sharing Matt Conlon’s phone.” I gave her the number.

She told me, “I have discovered that you are with the Diplomatic Surveillance Group, and that your duties and responsibilities are very limited.”

“My job is to keep the surveillance target in sight at all times, and to find him when I lose him. And that’s what I’m doing.”

“Don’t get yourself killed doing it.”

“Anything further?”

“No. I’ll take care of this.” She gave me her card. “Call me later and let me know what’s happening.”

“If you see an incandescent flash on the western horizon, you’ll know what’s happening.”

“Don’t say that.”

“Talk to you later.”

We both hesitated, then hugged for a brief second. “Careful,” she said.

I walked toward Steve, Matt, and Tess, who saw the public display of affection. They were speaking to a patrol sergeant, and I motioned to my team to join me.

Steve informed me, “I just got a call from a supervisor, Special Agent Howard Fensterman. He says he knows you.”

“We worked together in Yemen.”

“He said you’ve exceeded your authority—”

“How does he know that?”

“Not from us. I told you, the last we texted was that you and the trainee were on a meal break.”

“Okay.” So the word had reached 26 Federal Plaza, probably through Washington, that there was a situation in progress. And somehow my name came up, and my name at 26 Fed causes concern for some reason.

Steve continued, “Fensterman said you are relieved of your duties and you are to report to him at 26 Fed with all due haste.”

I didn’t think I wanted to be at 26 Fed tonight. And neither did Howard Fensterman, who obviously didn’t know he was in a nuclear blast zone. I mean, that’s compartmented information. To the max.

Steve also told me, “Matt and I are also relieved. We’re all going to see Fensterman.”

Matt asked, “Are we getting fired?”

“Probably.”

“Shit.”

My boys looked at me as though I’d let them down and totally fucked up their second careers and their lives. I asked Steve, “And Tess?”

“Fensterman didn’t mention her.”

Right. Fensterman probably knew who she was. I glanced at Tess, and she understood that I wanted to let my team know what was going on, but she shook her head.

I assured Matt and Steve, “Don’t worry about your jobs.”

Matt said, “I don’t think you can fix this one, boss.”

Steve added, “Fensterman was really pissed.”