Unsafe Harbor

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by Jessica Speart


  Fortunately, Vinnie had done just that after an ambulance had arrived on the scene and rushed him to the hospital. Leung’s first bullet had barely missed his heart. The second had hit his leg. The third had left a permanent scar on his face.

  “I’m getting too old for this kind of crap,” Bertucci had declared a few days later. “That’s it for me, Porter. I think you’re gonna have to find yourself a new playmate.”

  Vinnie instantly knew something was wrong when he’d spotted a Mercedes parked at the front gate, and saw that the guard had disappeared. He’d dispatched Connie to get help and promptly rushed to my aid.

  “Do you know what a shot in the face is probably gonna do to my acting career?” he’d moaned while lying in his hospital bed.

  What it had done so far was to launch him into semi-stardom. Taking three bullets proved to be the best career move he could have made. Not only was his heroism splashed across the news, but Vinnie became an instant darling on the talk-show circuit, appearing on Letterman, Leno, and Oprah. Even Donald Trump wanted in on the action. Bertucci had already been invited to participate in the next season of The Apprentice.

  Meanwhile, discussions were under way for a TV movie, after his story ballooned from having apprehended an ivory smuggler to taking on the entire Chinese mob. It was amazing what a little good publicity could do.

  It turned out my hunch had been correct. Santou had been tracking down a lead on terrorists. But like so many others before, once the individuals snuck into this country they seemed simply to vanish.

  The bombshell discovery I’d made of ID tags, blueprints, and maps never hit the front-page news. Rather, that bit of information was deemed too sensitive and kept tightly under wraps. Instead, the government continued to spoon-feed pabulum to the general public, assuring them that all was well as it could be on the home front.

  The whole thing annoyed me to high hell. But Santou had offered up a simple explanation.

  “Try as we might, there are no silver bullets to make us any more secure. So why cause unnecessary panic?”

  It was good to know that Big Daddy government was doing such a bang-up job of keeping us all safe.

  On the bright side, Gavin von Falken was being held for fraud and for trading in illegal diamonds. He’d also admitted to hiring the thugs that beat me up. However, he continued to deny any knowledge of terrorists, while insisting that he was nothing but an innocent pawn in a dirty game.

  Jake had laughed at that one, and said he hoped von Falken enjoyed his future prison accommodations. Personally, I hoped the guy ended up in a nice location—say, somewhere like Abu Ghareb.

  As for Tiffany Stewart, the woman was amazing. She’d managed to land on her Manolo Blahniks once again, having gotten off scot-free for all her work as an informant. The last I’d heard, she was back on the prowl, looking for another wealthy husband.

  Most of all, I’d been surprised to find that I wasn’t immediately reprimanded. The truth was that I hadn’t yet heard from Jack Hogan. Instead, my fate was left to the powers that be: the big boys in D.C., who had been gunning for me since Day One.

  I’d finally learned of their decision only yesterday.

  My punishment was severe: suspension from the Service for a litany of violations. Not the least of which was giving a damn about endangered species.

  “Come on, chere. What say we take Spam for a walk?” Santou suggested, and gave me a kiss on the cheek.

  I placed the album on the couch, knowing it would be there when I returned.

  There’s something magical about the city as it sleeps under a fresh blanket of snow. It’s as though a spell has been cast over its soul. I could hear Manhattan’s heart beating along with my own.

  We walked to the river where a shaft of crisp morning light splayed across the waves, nearly taking my breath away.

  “There’s something we need to talk about, chere. I didn’t want to bring it up until you were well on your way to recovery,” Santou informed me.

  His tone immediately warned that the subject matter was serious.

  Great. What was I about to be lobbed with now? I clenched my fists, not knowing how else to prepare myself.

  “You lied to me, Rachel. You pretended to cancel your appointment in the Diamond District. You deceived me and compromised an active investigation,” Jake accused, his voice taut as a bowstring.

  Every word that he said was true. Just hearing it made my heart ache. Still, Jake wasn’t lily white, himself. He’d had no qualms about doing what he deemed necessary in order to advance his case.

  “You’re right, and I’m sorry about that,” I agreed. “But on the other hand, you clearly knew that Leung was in New York, what he was up to, and purposely didn’t tell me. Rather, you insisted that I drop my case in order to protect your own.”

  “Okay,” Santou grudgingly conceded. “I’ll accept that. Only, you nearly lost your life on this one, chere. Maybe that’s acceptable to you. But it sure as hell isn’t to me.”

  His voice broke, and he quickly tried to cover it with a cough.

  “Yeah, but I didn’t. I’m still here,” I responded lightly. “Besides, you probably won’t have to worry about that anymore.”

  There. I’d said it aloud. Each word hung in the air like a tiny weight.

  “What do you plan to do now, Rach?” Santou asked, as Spam chased after a flock of snowy pigeons.

  “Oh, I don’t know. Maybe take a trip to Disneyland,” I replied with a caustic laugh that couldn’t disguise my pain.

  But I knew what he meant. Did I plan to fight for my job? Or pick up my marbles and leave?

  “I’m really not sure yet. I’ll have to think about it for a while,” I finally said.

  However, Jake wasn’t buying my line.

  “Don’t take too long, chere. You’re not one to stand idly by. I know you far too well. You have to be on the side of the angels,” he said and, placing an arm around my shoulder, drew me close.

  That was true. The problem was that the angels had begun to elude me, and I no longer knew where they were anymore. Perhaps this would be a good time to find out. Meanwhile, I planned to spend some time with my family—Jake, Terri, Gerda, and Spam.

  As for the animals, I’d continue to be their voice in any way that I could.

  The sun lit the city in an incandescent kiss as Santou, Spam, and I slowly began to walk home.

  Acknowledgments

  Thanks go to John Meehan, Resident Agent in Charge with USFWS, Special Agent Carmine Sabia, and Supervisory Wildlife Inspector Laurel Zitowsky, for their inside views of Newark Seaport; to Special Agent Tara Donn for sharing her knowledge of shahtoosh; to Susan Lieberman of World Wildlife Fund International for her insight on the ivory trade; and to Gerry Wachs for opening the Diamond District to an outsider.

  Praise for JESSICA SPEART’s

  Rachel Porter Mysteries

  “Jessica Speart has created a new genre—the wildlife mystery thriller—and I love them!”

  Pittsburgh Post Gazette

  “Fresh and close to the bone. [Speart’s] characters breathe with the endlessly fascinating idiosyncrasies of living people.”

  Nevada Barr

  “A highly enjoyable series.”

  Chicago Tribune

  “Chills and laughs galore.”

  James W. Hall

  “The author portrays the stark atmosphere…vividly…There are plenty of appealing characters, not the least of which is Rachel herself.”

  Publishers Weekly

  “Rachel Porter…is a very good traveling companion.”

  Boston Globe

  Rachel Porter Mysteries

  by Jessica Speart

  UNSAFE HARBOR

  RESTLESS WATERS

  BLUE TWILIGHT

  COASTAL DISTURBANCE

  A KILLING SEASON

  BLACK DELTA NIGHT

  BORDER PREY

  BIRD BRAINED

  TORTOISE SOUP

  GATOR AIDE


  Copyright

  This book is a work of fiction. The characters, incidents, and dialogue are drawn from the author’s imagination and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  UNSAFE HARBOR. Copyright © 2006 by Jessica Speart. All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins e-books.

  Adobe Digital Edition April 2009 ISBN 978-0-06-194602-8

  10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1

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