[Lady Justice 41] - Lady Justice and Terror on the Tracks

by Robert Thornhill

  I slept late the next morning and had just finished reading the paper with my ugly mug plastered on the front page, when there was a knock on the door.

  It was my brother, Mark.

  “Well, well,” he said, pointing to the headlines, “you’ve been a busy boy since the last time we talked.”

  “Not my idea,” I replied, tossing the paper aside. “Anyway, I told the police everything I know in my statement, if that’s why you’re here.”

  “Not at all. Actually, I’m here to give you an update. I thought you might want to know whose plans you’ve been screwing up.”

  “You’ve identified the bombers?”

  “We have. There were prints all over both bombs. Evidently they weren’t too concerned about handling them, figuring they would be blown to pieces.

  “We’ve identified three suspects, Yasir Patel, a Pakistani, and Mostafa Jafari and Ahmad Shirazi, Iranians. Patel is the hacker that broke into the railroad’s computers. We’ve seen his work before.

  “As you well know, this latest event was their third attempt to sabotage the railroad. I doubt they’ll just give up and go home. We’re expecting them to try again. We have to catch them before that happens.”

  I held up my hands. “Well, leave me out of it. I’ve had my fill of terrorists and railroads.”

  He smiled. “I don’t blame you. That’s not why I’m here. I just wanted you to be aware of what’s going on and tell you to watch your back.”

  “Watch my back? Why?”

  “Do I have to spell it out? You and our father have foiled all three of their previous attempts. I’m not saying they are looking for retribution, but just be careful.”

  I honestly hadn’t thought of that. “Do you think we’re in danger?”

  “I hope not, but just in case, we’re putting a man on your building until we find these guys.”

  Swell! Without realizing it, I might have lured the terrorists right to my front door!

  “I’ll let you get back to your paper,” Mark said, heading to the door.

  When I opened the door to usher him out, Dad was just about to knock.

  Both men were surprised.

  “Mark!” Dad said.

  “Hi, John, how are you doing?”

  “Doing great. What a pleasant surprise. Is this a social visit or business?”

  “Business, I’m afraid.”

  “I’m guessing you’re here about those terrorists who are trying to blow up trains,” Dad said, knowingly.

  “Sorry, I can’t talk about it. Classified. I’m sure you understand.”

  “Sure,” Dad replied with a wink. “Hush, hush. Listen, I came to talk to Walt about the big game tomorrow. Since you’re in town, maybe you can join us.”

  “Big game?”

  “Oh, that’s right,” Dad said. “I forgot. You’re from Washington. The Kansas City Chiefs are playing the Tennessee Titans for the AFC championship tomorrow. The winner goes to the Super Bowl. We’re having a watch party in my apartment. Can you come?”

  “Uhhh, no can do. I’ve got a lot on my plate right now, but good luck to your team. I gotta go.”

  After watching Mark head down the stairs, Dad turned to me. “You and Maggie are coming, aren’t you?”

  Honestly, with everything that had transpired, I had totally forgotten about the game. I did need to decompress, and an afternoon of football might just be what the doctor ordered.

  “Sure, we’ll be there.”

  “Good! Bring Arbor Mist.”

  Like most everyone else in Kansas City, the people in my building were rabid Chiefs fans. We had watched every game and sweated through the highs and lows of another season.

  After a very promising start, the Chief’s young phenom quarterback, Patrick Mahomes, suffered a dislocated knee. Everyone groaned, figuring the season was over for sure, but miraculously, he bounced back, missing only two complete games.

  Then, uncharacteristically, the Chiefs lost three in a row at Arrowhead Stadium. Now they were on a roll. Having won the AFC West, they next played the Houston Texans for the Division Championship.

  After the first quarter of the game, the Chiefs were behind 24 -0. It seemed that once again, the Chiefs’ season was coming to an end. Needless to say, the entire city was overjoyed when the team roared back to defeat the Texans 51-31.

  Now, all that stood between them and the Super Bowl were the Tennessee Titans.

  A half-hour before kickoff, Maggie and I headed to Dad’s apartment, arms filled with Arbor Mist.

  As soon as Dad opened the door, I could tell by the smell that Bernice had been busy baking Snickerdoodles.

  Armed with cookies and Arbor Mist, we huddled around the TV for the kick-off.

  As the players were introduced, Bernice giggled. “I like Travis Kelsey. He’s a hunk!”

  We were all on pins and needles when the Chiefs fell behind 10-0 in the first quarter, but like the game with the Texans, the Chiefs roared back defeating the Titans 35-24.

  For the first time in 50 years, the Chiefs were going to the Super Bowl!!!

  CHAPTER 11

  A week later, I received a call from Captain Short.

  “Walt, if you’re interested, I have another job for you and Kevin.”

  “If it involves terrorists, no thanks. I promised Maggie.”

  “No, it’s nothing like that. The whole city is going nuts over this Super Bowl thing. As you probably know, Red Friday is coming up this week and it’s going to be gangbusters. There’s going to be a big rally in the Power and Light District. We’re expecting close to twenty-thousand fans to show up.”

  I knew what he was talking about. During the football season, every Friday before a Sunday Chiefs’ game was designated as Red Friday.

  Fans were encouraged to wear Chiefs sweatshirts, T-shirts, caps and scarves.

  All around town cars could be seen sporting little Chiefs flags.

  Even downtown Kansas City was involved. The Union Station, the Power & Light building, and many hotels were flooded with red light.

  “So I’ve heard,” I replied. “What’s all that have to do with Kevin and me?”

  “Crowd control,” the captain replied. “We’re going to be spread thin. I’m calling in all available officers until this Super Bowl thing is over with. I could use you and Kevin at the Power & Light rally. Nothing dangerous. Just keeping a lid on things and making sure the fans don’t get too carried away. Are you interested?”

  “May I assume this is a paying gig?”

  “Of course.”

  “Okay, we’re in.”

  I called Kevin and told him our latest assignment.

  We arrived at the command station on Friday afternoon and, along with a throng of other officers, were transported to the Power & Light District.

  Even at that early hour, fans dressed in Chiefs’ gear were starting to gather. By six o’clock, the place was packed.

  Music was blaring, fans were dancing and drinking, and everyone was exuberant about the prospects of the Chiefs winning the Super Bowl.

  KC Wolf, the Chiefs’ mascot was there to encourage the crowd, as if they needed any encouragement.

  Toward the end of the evening, Kansas City rapper Tech N9ne showed up to perform on the stage.

  For an old guy like me, it was a wild and crazy night. Thankfully, there were no major incidents, just fans demonstrating their encouragement for the hometown team.

  When we were finally transported back to the command center, the captain addressed the group of officers. “Well done. Now go home and get some rest. On Sunday, we’ll be doing this all over again. The Super Bowl starts at five-thirty. The “Super Watch Party” as they’re calling it, starts at noon. I want you all back here at ten a.m. Any questions?”

  I looked at Kevin. “Are we really up for another one of these?”

  He shrugged. “It’s a once-in-a-lifetime thing. Why not? We can sleep after it’s over.”

  On Super Bowl Sunday, we were tra
nsported, once again, to the Power & Light District. Due to the size of the expected crowd, they had closed off the streets surrounding the district. On Grand Avenue, they had erected a fifteen-foot LED screen to broadcast the game. There was a 30-foot beer truck and numerous grill stations.

  “Well,” Kevin said, “at least we’ll be able to see the game.”

  By kick-off, more than twenty-thousand fans had crowded into the venue. Every time there was a run, pass, or tackle by one of the Chiefs, the roar was so loud, my ears hurt. Every time there was a play by the San Francisco 49er’s, there were agonizing groans.

  At half-time, the game was tied, 10 to 10.

  During the third quarter, there were more groans than cheers. The Chiefs had committed two turnovers and were behind 20 to 10.

  With only nine minutes remaining in the game, and San Francisco seemingly in control, it was beginning to look hopeless.

  Then, magically, everything turned around. The Chief’s defense stiffened and the offence scored three touchdowns in a six-minute stretch.

  Pandemonium broke out when time expired with the Chiefs ahead 31-20.

  The Kansas City Chiefs had won the Super Bowl for the first time in fifty years.

  Announcers said that no team EVER, had been behind by ten or more points in all three playoff games and won it all.

  For Coach Andy Reid, it was his 222ndwin on 02/02/2020.

  It was also Groundhog’s Day, and one could only hope that like Bill Murray’s Groundhog Day, the Chiefs would be doing it over and over again in the future.

  Yasir Patel smiled as he watched the exuberant fans screaming and dancing in the Power & Light District after the Chiefs had clinched the Super Bowl title.

  “Perfect!” he said, rubbing his hands.

  “I don’t understand,” Mostafa said. “Why do you care about this stupid game?”

  Yasir opened his computer. “Come here, my friend, and I will show you.”

  “Five years ago, their baseball team won the World Series. After their victory, there was a parade. Here is a photo of the fans gathered after the parade.

  “There were 800,000 fans crammed into that tiny area. It was so crowded people could barely move. There will be another parade for the football team. Even more people are expected to crowd together.”

  “So, what do we care.”

  “We care because this is an excellent opportunity for us. Have you ever heard the American expression, ‘Shouting fire in a crowded theatre?’”

  Mostafa shook his head.

  “It’s a metaphor for an action whose principal purpose is creating panic. Imagine the carnage if a crowd such as this was suddenly convinced they were in danger. Chaos would ensue and thousands would be trampled.”

  Yasir closed the computer. “We have work to do.”

  CHAPTER 12

  It was nearly ten o’clock by the time the Super Bowl ended. People in the Power & Light District partied until the wee hours of the morning.

  It was almost four A.M. when I staggered in the door. I took a quick shower and tumbled into bed. When I awoke at noon, there was a text on my phone. The captain said he could use Kevin and me at the upcoming parade if we were interested. We had two days to recuperate, so I said yes.

  Yasir handed Mostafa a small package wrapped in waterproof paper.

  “There will be portable toilets all along the parade route. Pick one and place this device into the bottom.”

  “Just this one?” Mostafa asked. “Why not more? Many more?”

  “Because just this one will accomplish our mission. Sure, there will be a few casualties at the site of the blast, but our main goal is to incite fear into the hearts of the people. Once they hear the explosion, they will panic and run for their lives.

  “Your job will be to stand on the edge of the crowd, then yell, “BOMB! RUN!” when you hear the explosion. Make sure you have an avenue of escape or you will be trampled to death.”

  Yasir smiled. “This will be a parade the city will never forget.”

  The Super Bowl victory parade was billed to be one of the biggest celebrations in Kansas City history. Over a million people were expected to line up along the parade route and around Union Station where the rally would be held.

  All of the schools in the area cancelled classes so that the kids could come and pay homage to their gridiron heroes. Businesses closed their doors figuring most of their employees would be calling in sick anyway.

  Some ardent fans were expected to start gathering the night before. Many arrived at the crack of dawn in order to secure a front row spot along the route.

  Some unlucky officers would be required to spend the night to keep an eye on things. Thankfully, Kevin and I weren’t part of that group.

  The parade itself was supposed to begin at 11:30 in the morning, but TV coverage started at the ungodly hour of 4:30. We were supposed to report at 4:00.

  Weather in Kansas City is, to say the least, unpredictable. On Super Bowl Sunday, the temperature was in the upper 60’s, just a few degrees cooler than at the game in Miami. Monday was also unseasonably warm, but on Tuesday, the day before the parade, the temperature fell 30 degrees in just a few hours. The forecast for the parade called for the temperature to be in the 20’s with snow showers. Brrrr! We were told to dress in layers. It was going to be a long, cold day.

  Everything was going according to plan until shortly after eight o’clock.

  To everyone’s shock and surprise, a green sedan broke through the barriers at the beginning of the parade route and began careening south.

  The moment I saw the car break through, my greatest fear was that inside were Bernice’s A-rab terrorists on a suicide mission to plow into the crowd and kill as many innocent people as possible.

  Alert officers tossed spike strips in the street and soon, all four of the tires were flat. Running on rims, the car continued south. In just a few moments, the car was surrounded on all sides by officers in SUV’s. The vehicles on either side prevented the car from crashing through the barriers and into the crowd.

  Finally, at Union Station, the officers boxed in the car, bringing it to a halt.

  Immediately, officers, with weapons drawn, surrounded the vehicle.

  Thankfully, when it was all over, we learned that the occupants weren’t terrorists, but an inebriated man and woman who decided to take an ill-advised trip down the parade route. Seeing all the cops surrounding the car, I was pretty sure they wouldn’t be attending the rally.

  That tragedy averted; the rest of the morning went like clockwork.

  The parade, consisting of 38 vehicles, started right on time.

  In the lead vehicles were the Governor of Missouri, the Mayor of Kansas City, and a host of other politicians, eager to cash in on the celebration. Following them were the Hunt family, the owners of the team, and all of the Chiefs’ office staff. The Chiefs’ Cheerleaders were close behind.

  Even Warpaint, the Chiefs’ equine mascot was there, ridden by a pretty gal wearing Chiefs’ gear. Following dutifully behind was another gal carrying a bucket and a pooper-scooper. It certainly wouldn’t do to have Warpaint heed a call of nature right there in the middle of Grand Avenue.

  Atop the next seventeen double-decker busses, the Chiefs’ players waved to the adoring crowd that lined the street.

  By this time, I had been on duty eight hours. The temperature was in the mid-twenties, and it snowed intermittently. To paraphrase one of Kevin’s favorite lines, “It was cold enough to freeze the balls off a brass monkey.” I was chilled to the bone.

  An hour or so previously, some kind soul brought us cups of hot coffee. That was most welcome at the time, but now that the hot brew had time to circulate through my system, I was faced with another problem. I had to pee.

  Fortunately, the parade organizers had seen fit to place 700 portable toilets along the parade route. They had learned a lesson from the Royals parade in 2015. At that event, they only provided 200 toilets, hardly enough for the 800,00
0 people who attended. Still, as I thought about it, 700 toilets for the million people they were expecting today was a crap-shoot, so to speak. Certainly not enough if everyone got the squirts at the same time.

  I got Kevin’s attention. “Keep an eye on things. I have to take a whiz.”

  He nodded. “Sure, I hope everything comes out all right.”

  Always the comedian.

  I headed to the nearest row of toilets. Once inside, I realized I had another problem. Even wearing gloves, my fingers were nearly frozen, and as instructed, I had worn multiple layers. Finding Mr. Winkie under all those layers was going to be difficult.

  I knew it was an impossible task wearing gloves, so my first act was to remove them. To my horror, the gloves slipped out of my frozen fingers, fell into the gaping hole in the seat, and disappeared into the depths of the toilet.

  “Well crap!” I muttered, fishing the flashlight out of my coat.

  I directed the beam into the swill below and spotted my gloves laying beside a box wrapped in some kind of waterproof covering.

  I knew right away that this couldn’t be good.

  I backed out of the toilet and called the command center with the communication device than each of us wore.

  “This is Walt Williams, and I think we have a problem.”

  Moments later, an officer joined me at the row of toilets. After taking a look for himself, he backed out of the stall. “I’ll call the bomb squad. You keep people away from here.”

  “Hang on a minute,” I said. “If the bomb guys show up here dressed in their protective gear, it could cause a panic. There must be another way.”