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“No one knows for sure. There was a series of explosions and gunfire out around Long Island. From our reports, it lasted for ten minutes or so. But it was late, and there were no boats at the ready, so it took a couple hours to get people over there to check it out. By then it was light, and everything was gone. It looks like someone was using Fort Strong as some sort of a hideout. No one’s talking along the waterfront, though. You sure you haven’t heard anything?”
“Like I said,” Kit reassured him, “if I hear anything, you’ll be the first to know.”
“I hope so,” Martin said. “This feels like it’s getting out of control.” Steele remained silent. “When is Carpio due in court?”
“Next Wednesday,” Kit said. The word seemed to stick in her throat.
“One week,” Martin said. “Not much time.”
“Not much time,” Kit agreed.
“OK,” Martin relented. “If you need any help making sure you’ve got all the bases covered, let me know.”
“Will do,” Kit said. Martin hung up, and Kit lingered with the phone against her ear. In her heart she knew that one week wasn’t nearly enough time to make sure all the bases were covered, no matter how much help she had.
FIFTY-FOUR
Saturday, February 9
“The police will bring him in through here.”