“I’m doing much better, Richard,” I replied, smiling. “And I think the shoes are Alexander Wang, but you know, I do my best not to focus on the designer brands.”
“Well you’re missing out, but I won’t hold it against you today, honey. By the way, thanks for sending out those social media posts. There’s been a steady stream of donations coming in on the website, and people have been bringing in canned goods and other food items all morning. Look at the donation bin over there.”
“That’s great, George. Glad to help,” I answered. “So when do I go on?”
“In about 4 hours, just a little after 2:00 pm,” he replied. “But you can help with greeting visitors at the donation box, or whatever you feel like. By the way, it’s a good thing you look so nice, all decked out in Mister Wang. There’s a TV and print component of the show. We invited some of the news media to cover the event and they accepted. I mean all 15 of them. They all want to get a piece of you, so be sure to have a sound bite for them on how you’re doing, while you give the public appeal for more donations. They’re set up in the break room, so you can do a few interviews before you go on. And a couple of them will alternate coverage while you’re live.”
“Sure,” I said with some hesitation. I was surprised he hadn’t given me more warning, but I knew it was good for the cause, so I went with the flow.
“Oh, and one more thing. About four corporations delivered those large, media op checks to be unveiled when you’re on. Everybody wants to be associated with Kate Samuel!” George was almost as animated as Richard today. He looked over my shoulder and noticed the two officers and a few of Matt’s guys. “Hold on, are those guys all with you? I thought Matt said some of them would be outside and at the entrances. Where am I supposed to fit them all? Thank heavens Richards isn’t here; he’d be all over that one with the beard.”
George went on with his chatter that was customary when he was in a good mood. Business was going well because the listener base was growing far beyond the station owner’s expectations. The fundraiser was the icing on the cake. Physical foot traffic here at the station, people donating and mentioning us online, and I think we were trending on Twitter under the hashtag #927FMFireFundraiserNYC. The creative for the tag was not my doing; I would have shortened it, but it was good to see them bringing attention to the cause on social media.
Soon enough it was my turn to go on. I was ready to rumble.
“Ladies and gentlemen, you’re listening to Kate Rock and it’s a pleasure to be your host for the next hour of the 92.7 FM Fire Fundraiser. I hope you missed me, because I sure missed you all. A lot has happened since my last time connecting with you, and much of that is the reason we’re having this fundraiser. I’m not gonna bore you with recaps of the fire. It’s been all over the news. I do want to take a moment to say this. I am so floored by the show of support from many of you. Your flood of kind social media posts, well wishes, cards, and thoughts have been a source of strength and I want to say thank you all.
“Now let’s get to why we’re here. We’re three hours into today’s fundraiser and have already hit the halfway mark. But this is New York City, my friends, and I know we can do better. The families who have been affected by the row house fire really need you to come through for them today. We have just 19 days until Christmas and that’s not a lot of time at all, but it’s enough to help these families have a very merry Christmas. So keep those pledges rolling in and come on down to our location with your food donations.
“I am going to do my best to bring out the Christmas spirit in all you listeners. So be ready for the big guns. Time to tug at your hearts strings, my friends, which we hope are connected to your purse strings. Up next we’ve got the song “Happy Christmas (War Is Over)” by John Lennon. And coming up, we’ll unveil the mega donations from four Manhattan corporations that wanted to do a little bit more for this event. Stay tuned.”
John Lennon’s song faded in and I was happy. I was back in the saddle and it felt fantastic. George popped his head in and signaled with a thumbs up. He raised his eyebrows and pointed at the outer door. It was Matt. There was some time before the song ended, so I went over to speak with him briefly.
“Hi, what are you doing here?” I asked, instinctively reaching up to him to accept his embrace.
“I just popped by to make sure you’re ok,” Matt answered, wrapping one arm around my waist. “You were amazing just now. I’m so glad to see you getting back into your routine.
“Thanks. It feels good too. So will you stick around until the end of my segment?”
“Definitely. I’ll be out here, listening to Kate Rock with all of New York City. Then I was thinking we can have dinner somewhere.”
“Sure,” I answered. “Talk to you in a bit.”
I got back to my seat with time to spare.
“And we’re back with me, Kate Rock. You know listeners, Lily Tomlin once said, “I always used to say, ‘Somebody should do something about that.’ Then I realized, I am somebody.” Well, people of New York, I know we can accomplish amazing things if we all take Lily Tomlin’s quote to heart. I know many of you have done exactly that. And we need more of you to keep giving. Remember, friends, when it comes to charitable giving, New Yorkers have the biggest hearts. And what’s even better is your donations can be claimed on your tax return. So keep giving and let’s make this a special season for the fire victims.
“Next up is ‘Blue Christmas’ by Elvis Presley, listeners. We weren’t kidding when we said we’ll be tugging at the heart strings. Here is the King of Rock and Roll, followed by ‘I’ll Be Home for Christmas’ by the one and only Bing Crosby.”
The rest of the time went smoothly, with the various media outlets floating in and out to cover parts of the show or to participate themselves. We had surpassed the fundraising goal before the last 10 minutes. There was a celebratory mood around the station, with some of the staff sharing hot cider with the visitors as they brought in food donations. Matt had even started chipping in, and was helping to wrap some of the toys that were brought in.
George had set aside 10 minutes at the end to do the unveiling of the checks, which were all covered in brown wrapping paper. The plan was to rip each one open with the TV and print media present, so there could be live coverage of the amounts. I was up again.
“And we’re back to announce how far ahead the big corporate donors are going to get us. These sure are big checks listeners, and let’s hope we’ll see a lot of zeros at the end of each of them. You can also tune in to your local TV or online news channel to see firsthand as we live stream the unveiling of each check now. Drumroll please?”
I ripped the wrapper off the first check as the sound engineer played the drumroll sound effect on queue. “And we have a donation from the Kitrich Consulting Group for a whopping one hundred thousand dollars! Let’s give it up for Kitrich!” Real applause rang out in the studio, accentuated by the sound engineer’s well-timed synthesizer.
The second check was for fifty thousand dollars, which was met with more applause.
“Just two more checks to go, ladies and gentlemen. How much will the mega conglomerates throw their support behind the cause? Let’s see.” As I ripped the check I saw the amount before I saw the names. “My goodness, listeners, we have a donation for an unbelievable two and a half million dollars! Let’s give it up for Karl and Kiera Sam—u—el?”
My voice trailed off in the middle of the live announcement, in disbelief. Those were my parent’s names. I thought I read it wrong so I looked at it again. It was them. A million questions flooded into my mind, trying to understand how they could have done this, and what it meant. Were they in the city? What was their real reason for the donation? How did they know? Was it just an elaborate rouse to manipulate me? Were there any strings attached? I was in shock.
George was frantically motioning to me from the doorway to keep going, so I said weakly, “Let’s give a resounding thanks to Mr. and Mrs. Samuel for their unbe
lievably generosity. This amount will go a long way for the many people who were displaced by the fire. Thank you so very much.”
My mind was racing. I couldn’t think, but professionalism dictated that I continue. I needed to wrap up my segment without being thrown off completely.
“Alright, listeners, and viewers. Let’s not forget the support of the TV and print media who have also given their time today to share our event to such a wide audience. Thanks for being here. Okay. Now we’ve just been blown away by one of the biggest donations our radio station has ever received during a fundraiser, so bear with us as we regroup and ready ourselves for the last check. Here we go!”
I was still reeling from the check from my parents. Matt heard my voice hitch over the station speakers. He came over to stand at the window beside the door where the two officers were waiting. He mouthed the words ‘are you ok’ to me. I shook my head and shrugged my shoulders, confused.
I ripped the wrapping paper off the last check. All of a sudden, the confusion, shock and surprise fell away, and all that was left was a chill. I felt the blood drain from my face. I moved the headset off my head and nervously signaled for George to come over.
He walked around and started speaking before he saw what I saw. “What? We have to keep go-…” He stopped short.
The check was not a check. It was a sign that read:
KATE SAMUEL.
TIC. TOC.
GET. OUT. NOW.
BEFORE. IT. ALL. GOES.
BOOM.
Book Three - Hero Holiday
Chapter 1
Time is one of those things. Sometimes, it freezes, giving us the perception that everything is moving in slow motion. At other times, it speeds up, making the world around feel like one of those old silent films, where everything moves unnaturally fast. After I read what I now call the bomb check, time did both.
I was already in shock from having seen my parents’ names on the large contribution to the fundraiser. For the bomb check, I had become numb. A myriad of questions floated around my head as three tan suits rushed me down a quieter exit stairwell on the other side of the floor. Who would do this? And why? Was it the same people who sent that man to the hotel to threaten me? What did it have to do with the Holsteins? Did it have anything to do with my parents? My brain was on overload.
As the bomb check sunk in, within moments, everyone on the floor was ushered to the emergency exits and asked to calmly walk down the stairs and away from the building. Our regular emergency drills had trained us to get to our office meeting location, which was two blocks away. Somehow, no one heard the word calmly. There was a frenzied and panic-stricken advance to the exits, with staff, reporters, and visitors seeming to claw over each other to get through the doors.
Matt and some of his security detail stayed back, working to take control of the situation, albeit with limited success. Too many people had seen the message, and they were not in a mental state to follow orders or be calm. The police officers who were assigned to me worked feverishly to restore order, but to no avail. One of them pulled at George, who was attempting to stay, so he could get one of the transmitting laptops in a hallway closet. He was intent on keeping the online radio show going.
The other officer jumped into high gear and got a message to the building management to evacuate the rest of the building. He then radioed the precinct to call out their bomb squad. Within minutes, the entire 39-story building was evacuated. It was a wonder that no one had gotten hurt in the stairwell descent. I guessed they could attribute it to the building’s well-developed quarterly safety drills, which most of the building tenants felt to be quite annoying. Not so on the bomb check day.
Before we all made it to our safety meeting spot, several squad cars and three fire trucks arrived at the scene. Shortly afterward, two bomb squad police trucks with markings that read New York City Bomb Disposal Unit drove around the northwest corner to the building and parked. Unfortunately, our meeting spot was three blocks in the other direction and so we weren’t able to watch everything unfold.
I didn’t see where Matt went, or if he had gotten out of the building. With five of his tan coats now hovering around me, I couldn’t go back to find out. I didn’t call them tan suits out of disrespect. There were so many of them that worked the rotations, that I couldn’t get to know them personally. They also kept a distance about them. The few who I did ask their names all said to call them ‘Barnes’, even the two who were Japanese. So I stopped asking and called them all ‘Sir’ when I needed to address them.
I looked toward the building with unease, worried that there might really be a bomb in there, and it could go off at any time. Matt was probably still inside, clearing the floors or helping his fire department colleagues that were onsite, or assisting the bomb disposal team. A wave of fear flowed through me, and my heart checked. All I could think about was Matt. I wanted to see him exit the building. I wanted him to be safe. Beside me. My inner voice was prompt in answering. This is what you get for falling love with a firefighter, Kate.
It had not quite been a week since I met Matt, and there I was, anxious and scared about what could happen to him. Worried that he could be hurt. The uneasiness intensified with every passing minute. Was this love? I tried to calm my emotions by reminding myself it was too early to feel so strongly for him, but it was futile. There were too many intense feelings, and soon, the emotions overcame me. If it wasn’t love, then I would have to resign myself not to try and define it there and then.
“So Miss Samuel, this bomb message, do you know who would send you a threat like that?” said a voice that came from over my shoulder. As I turned I realized it was the small group of the TV reporters who were at the radio station for the fundraiser. They had gathered around me, and were accompanied by their station videographers, with one reporter holding her microphone at my lips. Before I could open my mouth to answer, two of the tan coats flanked me on each side, and practically lifted me away and into one of their waiting SUVs.
I rolled down the car window where I sat, not wanting to have any distance between myself and what was still playing out at the building. My eyes were riveted on the scene. I silently kept hoping that nothing would happen, yet my body remained tense, as though it was bracing for something to happen. My breath was shallow, unable to relax, not knowing what would have happened next. I turned my body toward the window with my hands gripped tightly on the car door.
Officers had begun to expand the perimeter by marshalling onlookers and building staff further away from the building. Two bomb technicians from the disposal team emerged from the back of their truck, fully suited in protective gear. One was carrying what looked like a bomb inspection robot in his arms. They entered the building, and I think I held my breath from that moment on. It meant that at minimum, there was a suspicious package and that someone found it. ‘God, let Matt be ok’ was the prayer that kept repeating in my head.
The tan suit in the driver seat pressed his left ear and waved to the other in the front seat to get him to be quiet. “Lewis wants us to take her home,” he said. “It’s a pipe bomb and they’re going to try and recover it from the building for safe disposal.
“OK let’s round up the others,” the other guard said, leaving the vehicle to inform the others.
“Hold on,” I spoke up to the driver, getting impatient. “I’m right here within earshot, you know?”
“Sorry, Ma’am,” he answered. “Ma’am, we need to take you home. It’s not safe here.”
“OK, I understand. Is Matt ok?” I had to ask, as he became my only lifeline to Matt.
“Yes he’s fine, Ma’am,” he answered. “Ma’am, please excuse me. We need to assemble the crew so we can get go-” The guard didn’t finish his sentence because we both heard and felt what we had feared would happen.
KABOOM. It had to be the bomb that had gone off, rocking the ground slightly. In spite of the distance, the sound was immense and deafening. I could see broken glass flying
out of a few of the windows on the radio station floor of the building. Instinctively, I ducked down. When I looked up again, thick smoke was pouring out of the shattered façade. Many people in the crowd were standing with their hands on their ears. A few lost their footing from the blast, and others had immediately started running away to get some more distance between them and the disaster. Where was Matt?
The police and other emergency responders quickly snapped back into action to control and assist the crowd. There appeared to be a few minor injuries to first responders who were closer to where the broken glass fell into the street. Closer to the SUV, the tan suits hurriedly got in our vehicle and the two others behind it, and I was whisked away. Away from Matt.
“Is Matt okay?” I asked, my voice trembling and unable to hide my clearly visible terror over what had just happened. “Why aren’t we waiting for him?”
“Ma’am, he should be fine,” the driver answered. “We lost communications with him after the blast, but we have clear instructions from him and the Police to get you to safety.
I had my purse and phone with me this time. I quickly send a text to Matt to see if he would reply. A reply would be good news. I then searched for the online news station that was an affiliate for some of our radio programming, to see what had been reported so far. I was most concerned about injuries and deaths. My heart pounded harder with that thought. I did everything I could to try and block out any thoughts of the worst.
Just as soon as a short article loaded on my phone, we made it to the condo. The driver helped me out of the SUV before I could read what the article said, and three others took me up to the unit. They were more cautious than the 2 officers had been. One stayed at the elevator with me, while the other two did a sweep of the entire apartment. I was relieved they weren’t taking any chances.
HERO (The Complete Series) Page 14
