“Can you at least get me a boat?” I ask Walker. Having left the chaos of the docks behind, we’re back in the FBI agent’s tent.

“To take you to the Statue of Liberty?” Walker nods. “Yeah, I can arrange that.”

“Right now, though,” I reply. “I want it right now.”

“Five said sunset. That’s still almost an hour away,” Sam adds grimly. I know he’s been doing the same mental calculations that I have. He knows we won’t make it to the Sanctuary. Not unless we leave Nine to whatever fate Five has in store for him, and neither one of us is willing to go down that road.

“I’m not waiting. We aren’t on Five’s time. He’s probably sitting there right now, setting up a trap or something. Whatever the hell he does. We’re going early. If he’s not there, then we’ll be waiting for the bastard.”

“Good idea,” Sam says, nodding. “Let’s do it.”

“Make it happen,” I tell Walker, and step outside her tent.

From here, in Brooklyn Bridge Park, we can see Liberty Island. The green outline of the famous statue is visible against the smoky sky. It won’t take us long to get there. From this distance, I can’t discern any details. If Five is there or if he’s set up some kind of trap for us, I can’t tell. It doesn’t really matter. Whatever we find, we’re going to face head-on.

Sam follows me outside. “What’re we going to do?” he asks me. “I mean, with Five.”

“Whatever we have to,” I reply.

He falls silent and crosses his arms, also gazing out across the water at the statue.

“You know, I always wanted to see the Statue of Liberty,” is all he can think to say.

Inside the tent, I can hear Walker doing a lot of yelling into her walkie-talkie. Eventually, she succeeds in commandeering us one of the coast guard’s speedboats. It doesn’t have the artillery of one of the navy boats I spotted in the harbor, but it’ll get us to Liberty Island in a hurry. Walker also puts the call out to her trusted agents, assembling a crew of three guys who I recognize from the anti-MogPro task force that helped us go after the secretary of defense. I guess they’re the ones who survived the battle with Setrákus Ra at the United Nations. One of them is the guy I healed during that first skirmish in Midtown, the one who costars in the video Sarah posted all over the internet. He looks almost embarrassed when he shakes my hand.

“Agent Murray,” he introduces himself. “Never got a chance to say thank you. For the other day.”

“Don’t worry about it,” I tell him, then turn to Agent Walker. “We don’t need the backup. Just the boat.”