Operation Hell Gate - Marc Cerasini [63]
Liam had followed Fulton until he'd reached Boerum Place, a quiet, shady boulevard only a few blocks from downtown Brooklyn. Even from a distance, Liam had been able to see the emergency vehicles rushing down Atlantic Avenue, hear the sirens wailing. He hadn't thought much about it then, and when he caught the smell of bacon frying, he could no longer ignore his exhausted condition.
He'd been through a lot — the long ride, the mugging, the subway train nearly killing him, then the cop getting suspicious. He felt cold, clammy, shaky all over. He hoped getting some food into him would help him make the final hike to Taj's store. So he'd sat at the counter of a small neighborhood diner and ordered up a good fry — bacon, sausage, eggs, toast — then washed it all down with a cup of hot tea.
The food had done the trick. He was still bloody fah'ed out, but the hot food and the caffeine in the cha had revived him enough to finish the job for Shamus. By the time he'd made his way over to Atlantic, however, he'd found his way blocked by a police barrier.
The officers had seemed preoccupied with watching the drama unfold, so Liam had followed the line of yellow tape and wooden barricades until he'd found an unguarded spot and slipped through. He'd walked another block, to the corner of Court Street. It had been impossible to go farther than that. Police were everywhere, and emergency vehicles had blocked every street. Fire trucks were scattered about, and fire hoses jutted from hydrants and snaked along the pavement. Finally Liam had joined a group of Middle Eastern men who'd emerged from a greengrocer to watch the action from a fairly close vantage point.
Liam had been stunned to discover that black FBI vans had circled Kahlil's delicatessen — his destination — and armored assault teams had just entered the store. Sirens had continued to blare, emergency lights flashed as more vehicles moved through the cordon. Police, fire department, and traffic helicopters were circling overhead, the sound of their beating rotors reverberating from the surrounding buildings. Among the air traffic a chopper belonging to Fox Five News dipped low, cameras rolling to provide live coverage to its millions of viewers.
Then the staccato sound of gunfire had shattered the bright blue morning. Shocked outcries had greeted the shots and many had fled the sidewalks, taking shelter in the surrounding stores and shops. A second assault team entered the building to join the first, and Liam had heard another burst of gunfire. Then he'd heard the muffled explosion, saw the flashes inside the brown-brick building, and the brownstone literally folded in on itself, to vanish in a massive cloud of billowing dust and debris that washed over emergency vehicles and law enforcement officials close to the collapse. Almost immediately, a dozen fires sprang up among the rubble.
"Back! Everyone back!"
A fireman was on the sidewalk now, in helmet and full gear. He was waving everyone into the surrounding buildings. As he forced the crowd back, away from the toppled structure, a dozen more firemen hurried forward, toward the conflagration.
Liam knew that the law enforcement officials who had charged into that building had been buried in tons of rubble. As fires began to spread, Liam was amazed by the courage of the firemen who rushed toward the site of the explosion instead of away from it.
"Clear the area!" a fireman's bullhorn blared.
Liam considered retreating, but didn't. Instead, he slipped through the crowd and moved forward. He was only half a block away now, and his flesh prickled with the heat of the fire. A thick column of black smoke rose from the rubble, pushed along Atlantic Avenue by a faint breeze off the water. The smoke hit Liam, choking him. He smelled