by L. J. Taylor
“All clear!” called out one of the bomb techs.
The bomb techs went in first, carefully searching the warehouse for explosives. They came out a few minutes later. The head bomb tech walked up to them. “We found the hostage strapped to a chair in the middle of the room. He’s alive, but he’s sitting on ten blocks of C-4 wired to a pressure switch, a remote detonator and a cell phone. We also found hidden cameras that appear to be transmitting the feed to a remote location.”
“So what you’re telling me is that the bomb could go off if he phones it in, detonates it from a remote location or if the hostage gets off that chair,” Agent Michaels said.
The bomb tech nodded. “That’s right.”
“Can we disarm it?” Agent Michaels asked.
“Yes, but it’s going to take time. Meanwhile, he could see us working on it through the video feed and set it off. I told the men to evacuate the building on the off chance he hasn’t seen us yet. The cameras are trained on the hostage and the bomb. We jammed all cell phone signals around here before going in, so he wasn’t able to set off the bomb by phoning it in. He could still have someone set it off by remote though. Maybe the other agents have gotten to him. We’re waiting for a report,” he said.
“What other agents?” Agent Michaels asked. “Have we found out where he’s hiding?”
“We traced the surveillance signal back to a laptop in the Comfort Inn on LeJeune. I reported in and headquarters told me agents had already been dispatched there. We got ahold of two of those agents, but the suspect was not in the room they checked out. We haven’t been able to get in touch with Agent Peters or Agent Phillips,” he said.
“Manning probably got past them and is on his way here. How close does he have to be to detonate the bomb by remote?” Tyler asked.
“I’d say no more than thirty feet outside the warehouse in any direction,” the bomb tech said.
“That’s a lot of ground to cover,” Agent Michaels said. “We’re going to need some more men.”
“Is there any way you could do something to delay the detonation long enough for me to get Mr. Morgan out of there?” Tyler asked.
The bomb tech nodded slowly. “We could spray the bomb with liquid nitrogen. That would give you maybe ten seconds’ delay. A young healthy man who’s a fast runner might be able to get far enough away to survive the blast, but the hostage is an older man who looks tired. He’ll never make it.”
“Is there any way to fool the pressure switch so that someone could trade places with him?” Tyler asked.
“Theoretically, yes. As long as the right amount of pressure is applied to the seat of the chair, the switch won’t know the difference. But we’re talking about a very delicate operation here. One wrong move and both men could go boom. I don’t know if the hostage is in good enough condition to slide off that chair slowly enough to do the transfer without registering a weight change to the pressure sensor. Who could we get to switch with him anyway? This would be an extremely high risk operation,” the bomb tech said.
“I’ll make the switch,” Tyler said. “Just tell me how to do it.”
“Are you sure?” Agent Michaels asked. “We’re not ordering you to do this. You heard him. This is extremely dangerous.”
Tyler looked at him. “Yes. I’m sure. That man in there is like a father to me. You don’t have to order me to do this. You couldn’t stop me.”
The bomb tech raised his eyebrows. “Well, in that case, let’s get started.”
***
Charles silently inched down the hall to the door of the hotel room and peered inside. Manning stood in front of the desk staring into the screen of a laptop computer his back to Charles. The two agents sprawled bloody and motionless on the floor.
As Charles crept into the room, he saw Manning pull a cell phone out of his pocket. He sped up, grabbed Manning by the neck with one arm and used the other to knock the cell phone out of his hand. He tightened the choke hold, seeking to cut off Manning’s air and render him unconscious. He wanted to break the man’s neck.
Manning rammed his right elbow into Charles’ midsection. The pain was intense causing Charles to grunt and momentarily loosen his grip on Manning’s neck. Manning took the opportunity to spin in Charles’ grasp and bring his knee up into Charles’ groin. Charles saw stars and doubled over. Manning kicked him in the face. He fell back and then down next to Agent Peters, who was lying on the floor bleeding from a gunshot wound in the chest.
Manning brought his gun hand up and aimed his weapon at Charles. “So, you thought you could beat me at this game old chap? Well, bully for you for trying. Unfortunately, your high opinion of your skills didn’t meet up to your expectations.” Keeping his weapon trained on Charles, he walked over to where the cell phone had fallen and picked it up.
A gurgling sound from Agent Peters caught Charles’ attention. Agent Peters caught his eye then turned his head to look in the direction of his right hand which lay between them. He still held his weapon.
Charles looked up at Manning. He’d taken his eye off of Charles and was hitting buttons on his cell phone with his thumb.
Charles snatched the gun out of Agent Peters’ hand, raised it and fired. The bullet hit Manning in the chest and threw him backwards against the desk. He fell to the floor.
Charles got up and ran over to him. He snatched the cell phone from Manning’s hand and looked at it. To his horror, he saw that Manning had hit the redial button. Nine digits appeared on the tiny screen.
Charles’ eyes flew to the laptop. He expected to see camera snow. Instead, he saw a clear image of Tyler, his father and someone wearing a bomb squad jacket. He breathed a sigh of relief then squinted at the screen. What the hell were they doing?
Tyler appeared to be sliding his weight onto the chair and his father appeared to be sliding off it with the help of the bomb tech. The bomb must have a pressure switch.
Something made him look down at the floor. Maybe it was a slight sound or a movement. Maybe it was just gut instinct. He glanced down just in time to see Manning raise his gun. He kicked the gun out of Manning’s hand and then he kicked Manning in the head, rendering him unconscious.
He went over to check on Agent Peters. He was still alive. He checked the other agent’s pulse and felt nothing. He returned to Agent Peters and applied pressure to the wound on his chest. He could hear sirens wailing as they approached the hotel.
“Hold on, man,” he said. “Help is on the way.” Although he was not in the habit of praying, he sent up a silent one for Tyler and his father.
***
Kathy waited in the safe house feeling helpless and growing more frantic as each report came in. So far, all they knew was that shots were fired at the Comfort Inn, men were down, Manning had been arrested, and they were still trying to defuse a bomb at the warehouse where Charles’ father was being held hostage. No-one could tell her if Charles was alright or where he was.
“Take me to the warehouse,” Kathy said to the agent closest to her. It was Agent Rosaria Santos, a tough looking Latina who wore a dark pants suit, a crisp white button down cotton shirt and her long black hair pulled back into a sleek ponytail.
Agent Santos shook her head. “No can do. My orders are to keep you here until we know you’re safe.”
“You can’t keep me here against my will. I need to know if Charles is alright. If he is, then I know he’ll go to the warehouse to make sure his father is safe. Please, no-one can tell me anything here,” Kathy said.
“There’s a bomb at the warehouse, Ms. Brooks. It’s not safe to take you over there. And even though Manning is in custody, there’s no telling where the rest of his team is or whether Peachtree has sent any more killers out to look for you. The safest place for you to be is right here,” Agent Santos said.
“I don’t care,” Kathy said. “Charles isn’t answering his cell phone. I need to know he’s safe. He may even need my help. Are you coming or do I need to call a cab?”
Age
nt Santos sighed and raised her eyes to the heavens. “Fine. I’ll take you over there. Agent Michaels will have my ass for it though.”
Kathy smiled. “Don’t worry. Just tell him that I forced you to take me there. He’ll believe it.”
“I’m sure he will,” Agent Santos said.
***
Beads of sweat poured down Mr. Morgan’s forehead as he slowly transferred the remainder of his weight off the chair and Tyler took his place. His cramped leg muscles tensed with the effort of making sure he didn’t move too quickly. The minute his right buttock cleared the chair, the bomb tech raced him out of the warehouse and onto the street. What took only seconds felt like forever as he ran half expecting the bomb to explode.
Once outside, he was taken to an emergency vehicle. They sat him on a stretcher while the EMT’s checked him out. An F.B.I. agent walked up to him.
“Mr. Morgan, my name is Agent Michaels,” he said. “I’m very glad we were able to get you out safely.”
“I am too. But it’s not over. Tyler’s not out of the woods yet. Where’s Charles?”
“Your son went with two other agents to secure Manning and make sure he doesn’t try to remotely detonate the bomb. We’ve received reports of men down at that location.”
Mr. Morgan’s breath caught. He waved the EMT’s away. “Men down? Which men? Is Charles alright?”
“I don’t know,” Agent Michaels said. “The reports are that Manning is in custody, one man is dead and another is wounded. We should get more detailed reports momentarily.”
Mr. Morgan frowned. “With all of the technology available today, you people ought to be able to get better information than that. What kind of-.”
“Dad, stop terrorizing Agent Michaels. I’ve already done that enough today.” Charles stepped from behind the bomb squad van, walked up to his father and hugged him tightly. “I’m so glad you’re safe.”
“Same here, son.”
Charles pulled back, but kept his arm around his father’s shoulders. “Did he hurt you?”
Mr. Morgan shook his head. “I’m fine, son. My pride was hurt more than anything else. But Tyler’s still in there. That boy took my place on the hot seat.”
“I know.” Charles’ face was grim. “I saw it on a monitor in Manning’s hotel room.”
An unmarked sedan pulled up to the scene. The minute it came to a halt, Kathy jumped out and strode briskly up to Agent Michaels. “Is Charles here? Is he okay?”
“See for yourself,” Agent Michaels said. He inclined his head in Charles’s direction and then walked away.
Mr. Morgan watched Kathy turn her head and spot Charles. A smile lit up her face. She rushed straight into his son’s arms and buried her face in his chest. Charles kissed the top of her head.
“I’m so glad you’re okay,” she said.
“I’m fine, Baby,” Charles said.
Mr. Morgan raised his eyebrows. What have we here? He hadn’t seen Charles interact with a woman like that since Patti’s death.
Kathy pulled back and gave Mr. Morgan a smile.
“Hello, Mr. Morgan. I’m glad to see that you’re safe too. I’m Kathy Brooks.” She extended a hand.
Mr. Morgan shook it absently. “Nice to meet you. I wish it were under better circumstances.”
She nodded. “I know what you mean.” She turned back to Charles. “They said Tyler switched seats with your father. Is he still in there?”
Charles nodded. The three of them turned to watch the door to the warehouse.
Agent Michaels returned. “They’ve put liquid nitrogen on the bomb. That will give Tyler ten seconds to make the door of the warehouse. I hope that’s enough time.”
“He was the fastest runner in our unit,” Charles said. “He’ll make it.”
Mr. Morgan watched Kathy take Charles’ hand. As he said a silent prayer for Tyler, he felt Kathy pat him on the back. He looked at her. She sent him a reassuring smile. He returned it.
Agent Michaels raised the bullhorn he was holding. “Ready, set, go!”
Seconds later, Tyler sprinted through the warehouse entrance. Almost simultaneously, an explosion rocked the street and threw him into the air. He landed in a heap a few feet in front of them. Charles ran over to him and squatted down. “Hey man, you alright?”
Tyler rolled over, sat up, patted himself on various parts of his body as if to make sure they were still there, and then nodded. He looked a little dazed and had some minor cuts and bruises, but other than that, he seemed fine. “Yeah. But that’s the last time I go into a rigged warehouse for your behind.”
Charles threw back his head and laughed. He helped Tyler to his feet, grabbed him in a bear hug and spun him around.
“Hey,” Tyler said, “put me down! I’m dizzy enough from the explosion.”
Mr. Morgan walked up to Tyler and gave him a hug. “I’ll never forget what you did for me, son.”
“It’s my pleasure Mr. Morgan. It was the least I could do after all you and Mama Morgan have done for me,” Tyler said.
***
Two weeks later, Annette showed Charles into Kathy’s office. He held a large bouquet of red roses.
“Oh Charles, they’re beautiful,” Kathy said.
“Special delivery for a special lady,” he said. He kissed her on the cheek.
Annette stood there watching them, a goofy smile on her face. Kathy cleared her throat.
“Thank you Annette,” she said.
“You are welcome.” Annette wiggled her eyebrows at Kathy over Charles’ shoulder before leaving the office and closing the door behind her.
Kathy shook her head.
“What?” Charles asked.
“Thank God your case is now completely over. You could have gotten me into a lot of trouble bringing that big ole bunch of flowers to my office. Anyone with two eyes could figure out we’re still seeing each other.”
“Yeah, it’s pretty amazing how fast Peachtree’s board of directors consented to a judgment against the company and dismissed the Bar complaint when their criminal attorneys saw how much evidence the F.B.I. had against them,” Charles said.
“Even with the deal the company cut, Peachtree is finished as a defense contractor and Donald Peachtree’s going to have to do a lot of prison time if they ever find him,” Kathy said. “So, now that you’ve gotten your revenge and are a very rich man, what brings you here?”
“You do. I miss you.” He walked over to her, pulled her into his arms and kissed her lightly on the lips. She felt a thrill travel down her spine. She always did when he kissed her.
“I miss you too. You’ve been pretty scarce these past two weeks.”
“I had some thinking to do and some things I had to take care of,” he said.
“Yeah? Like what?”
“Well for starters, I had to get this.” He extracted a small box from his inner jacket pocket. He opened it to reveal a platinum engagement ring with a large pear-shaped solitaire diamond. He dropped to one knee.
Kathy’s mouth fell open. Charles’ amused gaze told her that she probably looked like a fish gasping for its last breath. She managed to close her mouth, but couldn’t quite wipe the huge smile off her face.
“Kathy Brooks, I love you. I want to spend the rest of my life with you, to grow old with you. Will you marry me?”
“Yes,” she said. “Oh yes.” She got down on her knees, threw her arms around Charles’ neck and kissed him. Then she pulled back and looked him in the eye. “By the way, I love you too.”
He stared into her eyes. She could see the emotion swimming in his.
“Say it again,” he said.
“I love you.”
He pulled her to him and kissed her more deeply this time. She felt the thrill all the way down to her toes.
“Why don’t we leave this joint and go somewhere a little more private to celebrate?” she asked.
“Sounds great. But first I have to go see Bill and tell him that I’m officially firing GRH.”
“Sounds good to me. We’ll stop by his office on the way out.” She grabbed her purse, powered down her computer and followed Charles out of the office.
* * *
Giada carefully peeled the poisoned lip covers off her lips. She threw them and the disposable gloves she wore into the toilet and flushed. She extracted another pair of disposable gloves from her purse, put them on and wiped down any surfaces in the hotel room she might have touched.
She carefully applied lipstick and made a small adjustment to the wig she was wearing. Satisfied, she walked over to the desk and unplugged the laptop she had used to transfer funds from Peachtree’s secret account into one of her own. She packed it into its case and took it with her. After all she had endured, the money and the laptop were the least Peachtree owed her.
She looked at his naked corpse sprawled across the bed and blew it a kiss. She then walked out of the hotel room and into her new life.
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About the Author
The oldest of six children, I grew up in New York City. As a child, I escaped my noisy siblings by voraciously reading every book in my parents' collection and every romance novel I could check out of the public library. My tastes later expanded to include classics, spy novels, and thrillers. Inspired by the stories I read, I began writing poetry and song lyrics and even tried to write a fantasy novel at the tender age of 13. I began writing novels as an adult during National November Writing Month in 2007 and have been chugging along ever since. When I’m not writing, I practice law in Miami, Florida.
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