Not even Dominic Cavello would turn his brother's daughter's wedding into a firefight, right?

Wrong.

A couple of hoods in light-blue tuxedos were taking a smoke break outside when they spotted my team coming out of the van. One headed back inside while the other blocked their approach."Sorry, this is a private affair…"

Tom Roach flashed his shield."Now it's open to the public.FBI. "

I zoomed back to the other wiseguy hurrying out to the wedding party on the deck. He ran up to the crippled old man in the wheelchair.

I was right! It was definitely Cavello! But our cover was shot.

"We're blown!" I yelled, fixing on the commotion on the deck."Everybody close in on Cavello! Manny, you and Ed stay put and cover the dunes.Taylor, " I called out to an agent posing as a waiter,"wait for Tom's crew."

Then Cavello jumped out of the wheelchair, suddenly the healthiest guy in the world. Steve Taylor put down his serving tray and pulled a gun from under his jacket."FBI!" he yelled.

I heard a shot and watched Taylor go down and stay down.

Chaos erupted. Guests were scurrying around the deck, some shrieking, others ducking under tables. A few of the well-known mob bosses were hurrying toward the exits.

I refocused on Cavello. He was hunched over, slinking through the crowd, still in disguise. He was making a path toward the stairs leading down to the beach.

I took out my Glock and hopped off the ledge I'd been perched on. Then I ran for the clubhouse along the shore road.

I stayed near the white clapboard clubhouse, then ran in the restaurant's front door and through to the deck. I could still see Cavello. He had peeled off his black glasses. He shoved an old woman out of his way and leaped over a wooden fence-then he was running toward the dunes.

We had him!