“Khalki, friend, think about it. I’m offering you everything you want—everything you asked for, lifted out of the sea and loaded on a boat bound for Odessa.”
If the foreigner had any brains at all, Catwoman judged, he wouldn’t trust Eddie. And it looked like he did have brains, and a twitchy finger. Another step and Eddie was going to have a hole for a heart. This was not how she meant for Eddie to die. Catwoman balanced on her toes, not quite certain what she wanted to do, or if it could be done. As it turned out, the decision wasn’t hers.
“Freeze!”
Switches were thrown and cones of light descended from a pair of hand-held spots in the rafters.
“This is the Gotham CIty Police Department. Drop your weapons. Raise your hands slowly.”
The foreigners were stunned; so was Eddie. They looked into the light, blinding themselves. The older man wasn’t surprised at all. He advanced toward Eddie. Then a gun was fired somewhere in the rafters. Khalki was thrown backward by the bullet impact. Then the spotlights, and the men holding them fell to the floor, and then all hell broke loose.
Catwoman scrambled for cover. Somebody shot out the headlights of the foreigner’s truck. The only light in the pier came from the boat riding in the water some distance below. The gunman who’d been hiding in front of her aimed his weapon into the rafters. She didn’t think he hit anything with his one round, but two other gunmen saw the muzzle flash. One shot got him in the neck. His death throes carried him into the light from below. When he collapsed on his back the letters “G C P D” were legible on his bulky vest. Eddie had drawn a weapon and was using the smaller weapon crates as a shield. He had the gun cocked but was too busy dodging to take aim or fire. The older man was nowhere in sight. The three remaining foreigners were using their ancient pickup truck for cover and firing wildly into the darkness overhead.