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Fire Catcher

Fire Catcher

⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐ 356+ 5-Star Reviews

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Tick. Tick. Boom!

A sinister figure known as the Fire Catcher is blowing up commuter ferries, leaving scores of people dead. He's willing to stop if his one demand is met: a dinner date with Agent Abby Kane.

But as the investigation unfolds, a startling revelation emerges—the Fire Catcher documents these fiery spectacles and sells the horrifying images to art collectors worldwide.

If Abby wants any chance to solve this case, she’ll need to seek help from the most unlikely people.

Prepare for a breath-stealing ride in the Fire Catcher.

Series: Abby Kane FBI Thriller #15

Paperback: 280 pages

Read An Excerpt

At exactly 6:42 a.m., the explosion ripped Ferry #11, shredding the top three decks and blasting splintered pieces of metal, plastic, and fiberglass across the water. An orange and yellow fireball shot seventy yards up into the sky like an aerial firework. The billowing cloud of combustion quickly turned into a black, ashy cloud as it mushroomed. With the blue-and-white ferry’s engine still idling, the captain-less, 70-foot ship slowly circled in the San Francisco Bay. A minute later, another ear-piercing blast boomed across the Bay.

Ferry #8, which carried commuters back and forth between the San Francisco Ferry Building and the city of Alameda, exploded shortly after leaving its berth in the Lagoon Ferry Terminal. This particular ferry was always jam-packed in the morning, with commuters heading to work in San Francisco. The explosion completely disintegrated the top two decks, leaving a fiery ghost ship coasting across the water.

Near the mouth of the Napa River is the city of Vallejo, and within it, the Vallejo Ferry terminal. Ferry #15 had just departed and was rounding the southern end of Mare Island, which opened up to San Pablo Bay, when the bombs planted on that vessel exploded. The entire bow of the ship had been blown off, giving the people crossing the Alfred Zampa Memorial Bridge a clear look into the belly of the vessel. With no bow, the ferry quickly took on water and began to sink. Survivors of the explosion could be seen jumping off the ship’s stern into the frigid waters. Some passengers’ clothing was covered in blood, while others’ had burned entirely off.

Within the next five minutes, two more explosions would take place. One would destroy Ferry #3, which serviced the route from the Ferry Building to Oakland. The other explosion would sever Ferry #9 entirely in half and kill most of the commuters coming from Tiburon.

* * *

I was on my morning run along the Embarcadero near Pier 9 when I heard the explosion. I couldn’t see past the large pier buildings from where I stood, but the sound told me something terrible had happened. I veered off the pathway and ran down a pier toward the Bay to see if that might give me a better look at what had just happened. As I neared the end of the pier, a second explosion went off rattling a nearby railing. This one was much louder, closer. A split second later, a fiery mushroom cloud erupted into the sky. I first thought something had exploded at the Port of Oakland, but that fireball in the sky was too close and too big to be an exploding shipping container.

As I reached the pier’s edge, I saw it: a ferry, just east of the Bay Bridge. The entire topside of the ferry was missing and flames were swallowing the remaining part of the ship.

I stood there a bit dumbfounded. The damage to the boat was massive. Only one thing could possibly cause that much destruction: a bomb. A woman shrieked and caught my attention. People were starting to gather.

“What the hell happened?” a man shouted.

“Call 911!” another person shouted.

Two women sobbed uncontrollably, and a man began to pray. I didn’t see any survivors treading water or even floating bodies, just a ton of debris spreading across the water. A couple of fishing boats maneuvered toward the ferry.

Assuming both explosions were caused by bombs, the FBI would definitely be involved. As the Special Agent in Charge of the San Francisco headquarters, I needed to get my butt into the office ASAP. Just as I spun on my heels, another explosion went off. A fireball shot up into the sky in the distance, north of where I stood. And then a fourth and a fifth explosion followed. My heart sank, and my jaw unhinged. Multiple exploding ferries, all timed to go off within minutes of each other. This was no accident. This was a terrorist attack.

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