by Laura Scott
“And Tariq is dead,” Diana added. “So there’s no point in pushing forward.”
“Put the phone down,” Amar repeated in an oddly hoarse voice. There was something . . . off about it. “I won’t ask again.”
“Did you hit someone before we arrived?” Sun asked, coming up from behind him. He hadn’t realized she was beside them and wished there had been a way for Sun to get behind Amar. “We found the blood stains. Rather messy, don’t you think?”
“It doesn’t matter. He is tied up and left someplace where he can no longer do any harm. He will die today, just like all of you.” Amar turned ever so slightly to face Sun. “You believe you outnumber me, but the difference is I don’t care if I die. I push the trigger and we will all be blown to bits, including the man who actually believed he would become rich by helping my brother Mustaf escape.”
“Your brother?” Jordan echoed. “Is your name Daboor?”
“No.” Amar lifted the hand holding the trigger. “Be silent. Today, Allah’s will shall be done.”
“Fadia? Is that you?” Diana stepped forward, staring openmouthed at the man whom Elam called Amar. “It is! I remember that scar running down from the corner of your left eye. The one you claimed Tariq put there with his knife.”
The scarred eye widened in horror. Suddenly it all made sense. Amar wasn’t a man, which was why his voice didn’t sound deep and his stature was so slight.
This was a woman, pretending to be a man. Fadia was Tariq’s wife and the woman Diana had assisted in her quest to find freedom. She was also Mustaf’s sister. His mind reeled as he realized Fadia had betrayed Diana in the worst way possible.
And was soon about to betray them all.
Chapter Twenty-Five
September 11 – 8:42 a.m. – Marlboro, MD
Diana couldn’t believe helping Fadia escape Tariq was the catalyst for everything that had happened.
Bryn’s kidnapping, the death of Chris Wallace, her US Marshal handler, and so many other awful things.
Because of her choice to honor her mother’s memory, freeing the women who’d been tortured by the very men who should have honored and protected them.
She stood frozen, unable to move, braced for the inevitable explosion. If Fadia pressed the trigger, they would all be dead.
Even Bryn.
Dear Lord, no. Please. Not my baby. Not Bryn. Please, Lord, help us!
A sense of calm washed over her, and she took a step toward Fadia, hoping and praying that she might be able to get through to the woman. “Tariq is dead, Fadia. Sun killed him. He can never hurt you again.”
Fadia’s gaze darted toward her, then away as if she couldn’t bear to see her up close.
“I know he hurt you, Fadia. I know you fled from him in fear. All you have to do is hand us the trigger and walk away. You will be free of the past, forever.”
“I will never be free,” Fadia said harshly. “Tariq was a monster, breaking his promise to my brother to treat me well. I spit on him! But when I saw you, I realized there was a way to get even with Tariq. Unfortunately, my brother is not free yet either. I have not received the signal.”
Diana thought that Fadia’s talking was a good sign. “You don’t want to die without knowing your brother is safe. That would make all of this useless, wouldn’t it?”
Again, Fadia’s dark eyes flickered toward her. “He will be in the air soon.”
Diana decided arguing wouldn’t get her anywhere. “I’m sure he will, after all, you orchestrated this plan very effectively. I’m impressed. Not once did I suspect you were the mastermind behind this.”
“Men are greedy and will do anything for money. And men always underestimate us, yes?” Fadia looked directly at Diana for the first time, maybe sensing a kindred spirit. “He never once recognized me while in disguise because women are nothing to him.”
“Men do underestimate us,” Diana agreed, wondering if Sun could do her martial arts moves to get the trigger out of Fadia’s hand. “But not children, Fadia. Not my Bryn.”
This time, Fadia didn’t so much as glance toward Bryn. “This is what my brother wants to be done. What my brother paid Tariq to do. Tariq failed thanks in part because he became obsessed with killing you, your daughter, and the FBI agent who killed his father, but I will not.”
“No, Fadia, I’m sure your brother wants you alive,” Diana pressed. “As I said earlier, you can walk away. Jordan can help you find a way to join your brother in Syria.” It was a rash promise, and she hoped Jordan wouldn’t give anything away. “Please, Fadia. Let us go.”
Fadia hesitated, and for a moment Diana thought she’d gotten through. Then the woman dressed as a man shook her head. “Take a step back, Diana. And the rest of you too.” Fadia held the trigger device up higher so they could see it. “Or I’ll blow us away now, regardless of where Ahmed is.”
A wave of helplessness washed over her. If she couldn’t change Fadia’s mind, she felt certain they would all die here today.
* * *
September 11 – 8:45 a.m. – Richmond, VA
Mustaf was concerned at the length of time they’d been waiting on the tarmac. He’d repeatedly told these men to simply take off, but they’d stubbornly refused.
If he was physically stronger, he would have forced the issue. But as it was, he could barely keep himself sitting upright.
A glint of light caught the corner of his eye. He turned to stare out the small window. More lights were visible now, red and blue flashing lights.
Police?
“What’s going on?” Mustaf did his best to sound authoritative.
The guy stood and looked down at him. “They’re coming for you.”
No. No! Mustaf straightened in his seat. “I already promised to double your fee. If you leave now, I’ll triple it. Get me out of here!”
But in a nanosecond he knew it was already too late. The plane engines died, and he heard the voice outside the plane, coming from some sort of bullhorn.
“Come out with your hands up!”
“Idiots!” Mustaf screamed. “You could have left. We could have been long gone from here!”
The man in the cabin ignored him. He opened the door and lifted his hands. “We didn’t know who this man was, and now that we know he’s a terrorist, we’re happy to turn him over to you.”
Infidels! Traitors! This couldn’t be happening.
But when the cops swarmed the plane, surrounding him at gunpoint, he knew it was over.
Despite being so close, he’d lost his freedom, forever.
* * *
September 11 – 8:48 a.m. – Washington, DC
“Did you get him?” Yates demanded.
“We got him,” his SAC from Virginia confirmed. “But mostly because these guys on the plane decided to turn him in. If they’d just taken off . . .”
“We would have had fighter jets tracking the plane until they were over a wide open space and shot them down,” Yates finished. “I’m sure the pilot knew that was a distinct possibility. And it wouldn’t be viewed badly, no one would mourn Mustaf’s death.”
“True. Well, we got him and are using FBI resources to fly him back to DC.”
“I want double the amount of protection as before. Heads will roll if he escapes a second time,” Yates threatened.
“Trust me, we are well aware of that.”
Yates disconnected from the call, then frowned realizing just how many calls from Rashid he’d missed. He quickly tried Rashid’s number but to no avail, then listened to the two messages. Something about the terrorist site being that of an amusement park?
A sliver of fear snaked down his spine. He’d gotten Mustaf, but the terrorist threat was all too real. If Rashid needed help, they had to respond.
He swiftly walked down the hallway to the debriefing room where his team was assembled. Raking his gaze over the room, he realized two members of the team were missing.
“Where are Ben Cunningham and Rick Slater?”
The remaining task force members glanced at each other. “We’re not sure and have been unable to reach either of them by phone.”
Yates scowled. “Track them down, use every single resource you have. One of them has been leaking information outside the task force, and I want to know which one and where they are right now.”
The men sat dazed for a long moment.
“Hurry!” Yates snapped. “It’s a matter of life and death!”
They jumped into action, digging into computers and muttering between themselves. Yates turned and walked away, dread dogging his steps.
He’d let Rashid down, having been too focused on Mustaf.
If Jordan, Sun, and other innocent lives were lost today, their deaths would rest solely on his shoulders.
* * *
September 11 – 8:51 a.m. – Marlboro, MD
Jordan ignored the sweat dripping down the middle of his back, never taking his gaze from Fadia’s hand holding the trigger. His phone vibrated in his pocket, but he didn’t dare reach for it. While he appreciated Diana’s attempts to get through to the woman, he didn’t think there was any way she could talk Fadia out of her plan.
He didn’t have Sun’s expertise with martial arts and sensed that any attempt to get the trigger from Fadia’s hand would result in the bombs being detonated. Bombs plural, even though he felt certain that the one here at the carousel was the only one with the potential to harm them.
And at this range? Kill them.
That other children would be spared was some consolation.
He couldn’t bring himself to glance at Bryn. The daughter he’d only just discovered. The daughter he’d barely had time to talk with. To hold.
And then there was Diana. The woman he still loved. If only he’d taken a moment to tell her. Tell her and Bryn both how much they meant to him.
How much he loved them.
He tensed, debating the right time to make his move. If Fadia was going to kill them anyway, he may as well make a last-ditch attempt to retrieve the trigger.
Without detonating it.
A tapping noise reached his ears. He frowned and risked a glance off to his left, the direction from which he’d heard the noise.
There it was again, tap tap tap.
Strangely enough, the sound seemed to be coming from somewhere inside the merry-go-round.
“Fadia, it sounds as if the man you attacked is still alive.” Sun’s voice was conversational, as if she was unconcerned with their impending doom. “Tell me, what was the purpose in that?”
“To torture him with knowing he’s going to die, why else?” Fadia responded, glancing at Sun.
He met Sun’s gaze and gave a slight nod. Only in working together did they have even a chance of getting out of this.
“Stop! FBI! Drop your weapons!”
The startling command drew Fadia’s attention. Jordan didn’t hesitate. He launched himself at Fadia, striking the underside of her arm holding the trigger in an attempt to shake it loose, trusting in God and in Sun’s graceful ability to grab it.
He hit Fadia hard, feeling only a twinge of regret at decking a woman. He heard Diana shout but ignored the sound as he and Fadia landed on the ground with a bone-rattling thud. He tensed, waiting for the resulting explosion.
It never came.
Jordan lifted his head and looked over his shoulder. Indeed, Sun had the trigger cradled in her hand. She was standing stock-still. Diana and Bryn were too.
It took a long second for them to realize it was over.
They’d managed to successfully disarm Fadia.
“I said, this is the FBI!” the man shouted again.
Jordan rolled off Fadia, grabbing her wrists and forcing them together. “Good for us. Then toss me your cuffs so I can secure this terrorist.”
“Terrorist?” The man approached cautiously, staring in confusion at the small group. “What’s going on?”
“Toss me your cuffs,” Jordan repeated. “Tell me who you are and we’ll fill you in.”
The man hesitated, then tossed the cuffs toward Jordan. He caught them one-handed and tightly cuffed Fadia’s thin wrists.
Then he stood, dragging Fadia upright. “This is Fadia Mustaf, sister of Ahmed Mustaf. Apparently, she’s been working behind the scenes to free her brother and to mastermind this terrorist attack.” Jordan stared at the guy for a moment. “And you are?”
“Ben Cunningham. I tracked Rick Slater’s cell phone to this area. He’s been acting strangely, and I have reason to believe he’s a traitor.”
Jordan hesitated, glancing at Diana. She shrugged. “I didn’t find any red flags in Cunningham’s file, but Slater seemed to have more money than he should.”
“I believe you’ll find him inside the merry-go-round,” Sun said, jerking her thumb in the general direction. “Fadia hit him and tied him up in there. We heard him tapping, so he’s still alive.”
Instead of looking alarmed, Fadia smiled. In that moment he knew.
There was more than one trigger.
* * *
September 11 – 9:09 a.m. – Washington, DC
“Sir? We’ve found a possible location for Cunningham and Slater.”
Yates looked up at Geoff North hovering in the doorway. “Where?”
The guy looked sheepish. “As strange as it sounds, their cell phones are pinging off a tower near an amusement park in Marlboro, Maryland.”
Amusement park? Exactly what Rashid had mentioned in his voice message. Yates swallowed hard at the idea of children and families being in harm’s way. “We need the park evacuated ASAP, and I want you and I to fly there, immediately. I’ll call for the chopper.”
“Yes, sir,” North agreed. “But you should know the park doesn’t officially open until ten a.m.”
“Then make sure it doesn’t open at all, in fact, I want every single one closed until further notice.” He picked up his phone, ordered the chopper, and then joined North. “Let’s go.”
As he and North ran toward the waiting chopper, Yates hoped they weren’t already too late.
* * *
September 11 – 9:11 a.m. – Marlboro, MD
“This way,” Elam said, gesturing toward the carousel. “I believe there is a space in the center.”
Jordan glanced at Diana, Bryn, and Meira. “The three of you head back to the vehicle. I want you far away from here in case something happens.” He hadn’t voiced his suspicions of another trigger device, but from the grim expression on Sun’s face, she’d had the same thought.
For once, Diana didn’t argue. “Come, Bryn, Meira.”
Meira hung back, her gaze clinging to Elam’s. She whispered, “Come back to me, husband,” in Arabic.
Elam nodded. “I will, my love.”
Jordan glanced at Cunningham. “Stay here with Fadia and don’t let her out of your sight for any reason. She’ll sacrifice her life in an effort to take ours.”
Cunningham looked uncertain. “Shouldn’t I come with you?”
“Just wait here.” Jordan tried to temper his impatience. He followed Elam up onto the platform, then around to where they found a door. Opening the door, they carefully went inside.
The interior was dark, and it took a moment for his eyes to adjust. Then he saw the man tied to a post, a gag in his mouth, still using his heels to make the tap, tap, tapping noise they’d heard.
“Elam, is that one of yours?” Jordan spied the bird sitting on the ground at the base of a pillar.
“Yes.” Elam looked at him with large soulful eyes. “And there are many others hidden in the park I’m sure.”
“We’ll get a K-9 team here to find every one of them, but I’ll need you to take care of that bird. And tell me what to look for as far as a trigger.” He stared at the bound man. “I’m afraid to move him.”
The bound man grunted and squirmed, clearly anxious to be let loose. Jordan removed the gag first, as it was just a cloth tied around his head without any sign of a trigger.
&
nbsp; “Don’t you know who I am? Rick Slater with the FBI! Untie me right now!”
“Slater, huh?” Jordan stared down at him, trying to find something, anything that might be a trigger. “You’re the one who leaked information from the task force, aren’t you?”
“Me? Of course not,” Slater snapped. “How dare you accuse me of such a thing?”
“You’re here, aren’t you?” he countered, still searching for the trigger. “I’m assuming you were planning to meet Amar, AKA Fadia, here before she knocked you unconscious.”
Slater struggled against his binds. “Cut the ties around my wrists and ankles, you worthless piece of trash!”
“I’d hold still if I were you, there’s a trigger device hidden somewhere on your person that could make us all go boom.” There, he saw a tiny wire leading from the bind around his wrist to the guy’s back pocket.
Slater froze, the blood draining from his face.
Jordan knelt beside him and traced the wire to a trigger device that looked similar to the one Fadia had. “Elam? I need your expertise here.”
Elam had moved the bird bomb to the other side of the enclosure, then crossed over to help. Less than a minute later, Elam had disconnected the trigger and pulled the device from Slater’s pocket.
Jordan breathed a sigh of relief. “Let’s get these items out of here.”
Elam nodded and went over to retrieve the bird.
“Wait! You can’t leave me here,” Slater shouted.
“Sure, we can.” Jordan didn’t bother to look at him. “You’re under arrest for treason and plotting a terrorist attack. And that’s just for starters.” He stopped and glanced back at the man. “Did you pay Frank Carlson to betray Diana too?”
