“No one will believe that I could have done all this on my own.”
“You are the grandson of a great man, and once O’Leary’s body is found inside your apartment there will be no doubts about your guilt. You both worked for the sanitation department and so your relationship is already established.”
Sharad gawked at Smith.
“My apartment? Why would O’Leary be in my apartment?”
“I lured the gay bastard there by leaving him a different note. One stating your desire to be more than friends. When he showed, I murdered him, and his death will be on your head.”
“Maybe, but I won’t be blamed for this craziness.”
“Whether it’s believed that you were helped or not won’t matter. It will be your name uttered endlessly in connection with this act of terrorism, your face shown on every television screen. A pity, as it is a great honor that you don’t deserve. However, it will elevate your grandfather and broaden his legacy.”
Sharad stared at Smith for a moment longer before making a run for the door. He didn’t even get two steps before Rasa grabbed his arm and yanked him back.
After that, Sharad’s wrists were bound together behind his back and a gag was shoved in his mouth and taped in place.
Smith held out a set of keys and spoke to Rasa.
“Retrieve my van. I left it across the street and a block south of here.”
Rasa took the keys and then looked over at Tanner.
“I want to be the one to kill him.”
“You will have that pleasure after you return with the van.”
Rasa grinned and left to get the van.
Smith stared down at Tanner.
“Whoever you really are, you’ll soon be dead.”
Tanner glared back at him.
“I was thinking the same about you, Smith.”
Smith laughed at him and then spoke to his men in Arabic.
“Prepare to leave; God’s vengeance is nigh!”
The men gave shouts of agreement and began filling their modified red kettles with the chemicals. Two men to each of the containers that held the white powder, while the fifth man, who was Rasa’s partner, filled both his own and Rasa’s kettle with the silvery powder Tanner had seen earlier.
Smith had explained to the men that once they were at Times Square, the three teams of two would follow one behind the other while releasing their mix of death at the eastern end of the area.
The wind was blowing east to west. When the gas formed, the wind would aid in the spreading of their mayhem. The kettles held a shallow container on top that would be filled with change, as if they had received donations. Anyone looking inside the kettle would see only the change on top.
The bulk of the kettles held the chemicals, and a gentle squeeze of their modified handles would sprinkle the chemicals about.
The snow was expected to begin falling shortly, and by the time the free Christmas concert was going strong, the snow would reach levels that would give birth to the gas.
Tanner didn’t know how he would do it, but he had to stop them. First however, he’d have to survive an encounter with Rasa.
The huge Arab returned with the van and helped the others seal the barrels. Afterward, Rasa grabbed the bound and gagged Sharad, whose eyes looked devoid of all hope, and pushed him into the rear of the van.
Through the open side door, Tanner watched Smith as the terrorist leader gave final instructions to his men.
“Rasa will deal with Tanner and then you’ll all travel together in the other van to the target area. Remember, leave your guns in the van and carry the ceramic knives instead. There are hidden metal detectors where you’re going, but the knives have been modified, and the metal that was once in their handles has been removed. If anyone attempts to stop or otherwise detain you, use your knives and kill as many of the Christians as you can. God is great and our cause is righteous!”
With those words, Smith slammed the back doors on the van and drove off.
Rasa told the other men that he would join them soon, and then he reentered the factory and shut the door behind him.
The big man walked over to Tanner slowly while bringing out a knife. When Rasa reached him, he gripped Tanner’s neck and leaned down to stare into his eyes, as the razor sharp blade moved closer.
“Khalid give you to me like Christmas present, now I think I open you up.”
CHAPTER 20 – Please knife me
Sara had all but forgotten the reason she was meeting with Brian Ames as she fell deeper in love with the man every minute she was with him.
Ames was enraptured by her as well, and they moved from their stools at the bar and took up residence in an intimate booth in the rear of the tavern.
They talked about their childhoods over dinner while making each other laugh. By the time they were ready to order dessert, Ames was holding her hand.
This is insane. Sara told herself, but knew she didn’t care. She was in love.
***
In Forrest Hills, Francis Nash reached into the safe that was hidden under blankets inside his walk-in closet.
He removed the ten thousand dollars he kept on hand. The money was a far cry from the usual amount he gave away each year, but it was better than nothing, and he refused to let the Scrooge-like thief that stole his money ruin his Christmas and end a tradition.
As he began feeding the money into the gold envelopes that were marked with the words, A GIFT FOR YOU, a loud cracking sound came from outside. It was such a sharp and sudden noise that it startled Francis and made him jump.
He left the closet and headed for the balcony to take a look outside, and saw a red velvet sack lying on the floor near the railing.
Francis stepped out onto the balcony and shivered from the cold, but then spotted something that puzzled him. There were thick clouds overhead, but behind them was a mostly full moon, and the night was aglow with luminescence that allowed Francis to make out details without the aid of a flashlight.
Out beyond the balcony, one of the long branches of a tall maple tree had cracked near its middle. It was hanging loose and dangling above the ground.
As he was wondering what had caused it, Francis jumped once again, as a nearby car let loose a loud backfire. Francis shivered from the cold, scooped up the sack, and headed for his bedroom. After shutting the door on the balcony, he looked in the bag and saw that his money had been returned.
There was also a handwritten note.
SORRY, SECRET SANTA. WE DIDN’T KNOW YOU WAS YOU.
Nash stared at the letter and money in disbelief and then he let loose a laugh of joy.
It was going to be a great Christmas after all.
***
“Cut me, slice me open if you want, just don’t use that damn gas on me,” Tanner begged Rasa, in what he hoped sounded like a plea born of fear.
Rasa had been about to use a knife to rip open Tanner’s stomach, to inflict agony before killing him, but paused, as he turned his head to stare back at the table where the dead mice lay in their plastic cages.
The large man grinned and put his knife away.
“Gas is horrible death, very painful.”
Rasa walked over and gathered up the cube of chemicals that had been meant for the mouse that had escaped. Along with it, he grabbed what was left of the bottle of water. After picking up the gas mask, Rasa slid a chair in front of Tanner and placed the open cage on the floor between Tanner’s legs, which were still taped to the chair.
The big man sat across from Tanner, but before he did so, he had to unbutton the jacket on the Santa costume, so that the buttons wouldn’t go flying off it from the pressure of his bulk. Once he was settled in the chair, Rasa sent Tanner a wicked grin as he held up the bottle of water.
“When I pour this, you suffer and die.”
Tanner struggled to free himself from the chair, even as he made movements with his tongue, inside his closed mouth, while breathing hard through his nose.
Ras
a’s smile widened. He was thinking that Tanner was panicking and was close to hyperventilating from fear. Rasa sat the bottle of water down for a moment while he reached for the gas mask, where it lay beside his chair.
As he did so, Tanner made a wet sound that caused Rasa to think he had been spat upon. He checked the front of his Santa suit and found nothing, but when he looked at Tanner, he saw that the man was smiling at him, although his lips were sealed tight.
Tanner’s eyes peered downward and Rasa’s gaze followed. Rasa realized what Tanner had done just as an agonizing pain began stinging his throat. Tanner had spat into the open cage, and thus, had activated the deadly chemical mixture, since human spittle is mostly water.
Rasa let out a cry of terror. He then slammed the lid on the cage, sealing it shut, and scrambled to put on the mask. He was too late, and his muscles all twitched with violent spasms that caused him to fall from his chair.
***
Tanner watched Rasa’s growing agony while continuing to hold his breath to avoid a similar fate. After Rasa fell to the floor, Tanner rocked his upper body forward while simultaneously attempting to stand on the toes of his boots.
The rear legs of the chair left the ground but then settled back down again. Tanner looked at the closed plastic cube beneath him and wondered if its lethal gas could leak out. Possibly, but he remembered that Smith had taken off his mask after closing the lids on the cubes. Even if the cube was airtight, it would still be prudent to move as far away from it as he could, and that meant he had to stand.
Again, Tanner threw his upper body forward in the chair and once more the rear legs left the floor. This time he was able to maintain his balance on the toes of his boots and he walked hunched over with the chair lashed to his back.
He was growing red-faced from the lack of air but he continued to hold his breath until he was near the front end of the factory. Then, in a bid to free himself of his bonds, Tanner sprang up, while propelling himself backwards, causing the wooden chair to slam hard against the old factory’s grease-stained concrete floor.
The painful impact made him open his mouth and he involuntarily inhaled a deep breath while releasing a moan.
Tanner laid there waiting for the pain to arise. When it didn’t appear after several seconds, he assumed he had escaped the gas and went to work freeing himself from the chair.
One of the arms of the chair had been damaged in the fall and broke free from where it had sat flush against the chair’s seat. Tanner was able to slide the tape binding his wrist along the broken piece until it reached the break in the wood and slid off. He then used his free hand to tear at the tape on his other wrist.
Behind him, Rasa’s thrashing had ceased, but the big man was still moaning. However, it was an odd moan, and was accompanied by a wheeze, as if the man had become asthmatic. What had killed a mouse might not be enough to kill a man, but Rasa would never draw an easy breath again.
With both hands free, it was a simple task for Tanner to liberate his legs.
Tanner stood and walked over to stare down at Rasa. At some point, Rasa had attempted to use his gun, it sat outside the holster on his hip, among the folds of the Santa costume.
Rasa’s fingers scraped at the weapon, but he lacked the strength to grip it. That told Tanner that not only did the gas affect the respiratory system, but also sapped the vitality of the muscles.
Tanner picked up the gun, along with the ceramic knife, and then found a twin of the gun in a holster on Rasa’s ankle. Afterwards, he stripped the Santa costume from Rasa.
Although it ate up time he might not have, Tanner wiped his prints from anything he touched, such as the chair he’d been secured to.
He did a quick but thorough job of it, knowing that he had to strike at the men outside before one of them grew restless and came in to see what was taking so long to kill one man.
Tanner threw on the Santa suit, donned one of the fake beards, and checked the guns.
The weapons were loaded, their slide action smooth, and their safety switches thumbed off.
It was time to show Smith’s men what true terror was all about.
CHAPTER 21 – Santa war
Sharad let out a soft moan as he once again fell over onto his bound hands.
The floor of the van was slippery, but he suspected that Smith was taking the turns tighter than he needed to, in order to jostle him about.
He attempted to stand twice, and both times found himself tumbling hard atop the van’s plywood covered floor. There were no windows in the sides of the van, at least not at its rear.
However, Sharad could see through the steel mesh that separated the rear compartment from the front and would catch glimpses of his surroundings through the windshield. It was snowing, but just barely, as scattered flakes of white drifted down from the sky.
At the beginning of the trip, Sharad felt uncomfortable with his hands secured behind him, but as time passed, the discomfort became pain.
Sharad sighed beneath the gag in his mouth. A little pain was the least of his worries. Smith was going to kill him, and had already killed the sanitation cop Mike O’Leary. And, if he somehow survived, he would be blamed for the terrorist attack taking place in Times Square.
Sharad thought of all the people who would die and struggled against his bonds once more, but it was useless. Then, he thought of Jennifer and realized that he’d never see her again, and that she might spend the rest of her life thinking that he had been involved with committing mass murder.
Tanner, who was he? Could he possibly stop Smith somehow?
The man seemed so confident and unafraid, but he was likely dead already, while still taped to the chair inside that old factory.
Sharad realized that Tanner’s death would be blamed on him as well, and the hopelessness of his situation overwhelmed him.
He was going to die and there wasn’t a soul who could stop Smith’s plans.
***
Tanner stepped from the side door of the factory and shot two of Smith’s men in the back. A third man had been smoking and nearly swallowed his cigarette while reaching for his gun. As he raised it to fire, Tanner sent two into his chest.
Tanner had taken them by surprise, and although initially outnumbered five-to-one, he had killed or seriously wounded three of the men only two seconds into the firefight.
Tanner was holding two guns. He had used the weapon in his left hand to send several shots towards the fourth and the fifth man, who had been leaning against the wall at the left side of the alley.
Unable to aim two guns at once, Tanner used the spare gun to unnerve the men, but had no expectation of hitting them.
However, luck was with him, and the fourth man fell back against the wall with a bullet wound in his gut, which caused the feathered pillow he was using as a Santa belly to let loose a plume of feathers.
The fifth man returned fire while running away. Tanner fired a shot that chipped the bricks a foot from the fleeing terrorist’s head and then watched as the man reached the end of the alleyway and headed right.
Tanner had been planning to let one man flee from the start, in the hope that the runner would lead him straight to Smith.
As he passed the man he’d shot in the stomach, Tanner saw the man reach for his gun. The weapon had fallen between the man’s legs, as he stumbled back against the wall.
Tanner knocked the man’s feet out from under him and then stomped twice on his head, causing the terrorist’s fake white beard to go askew. That would keep the man unconscious until the Feds arrived, and perhaps the man knew something useful.
Smith likely knew something useful. If so, he was taking it to his grave.
Tanner looked back along the length of the alley and saw four dead or wounded Santas. He then ran to where he’d left his rented car. He had to catch up to the terrorist he’d let live, hoping that the fool would lead him straight to Smith.
***
Sharad was wondering where Smith was taking him to w
hen he spotted a building he knew well. They were in his old neighborhood in Brooklyn.
When Smith pulled up in front of his former apartment building, Sharad remembered the Arab doorman he had talked to the time he returned to look for Jennifer.
Smith had said that someone had been watching, and Habib’s appearance at the park earlier told him that Smith had known about Jennifer. Sharad didn’t know how he would do it, but if Smith harmed Jennifer, Sharad would kill the man.
They had been stopped in front of the building for only a few seconds when Smith made a U-turn and then a sharp right down a side street, followed by another quick turn. That placed them at the rear of the building Jennifer was living in with her father and sister, and Sharad feared that Smith was targeting them.
He pleaded with Smith to leave them be, but it came out as nothing more than unintelligible mumbling with his mouth gagged.
The passenger door opened and someone climbed in. The man acknowledged Smith with a warm greeting that was returned in kind, and then he smiled at Sharad.
“Hello there, young man; it’s good to see you again, and I know that my daughter will be pleased as well.”
The man was Professor Gates, Jennifer’s father.
CHAPTER 22 – ...Often go awry
After handing Sharad over to Professor Gates, Smith traveled back to Manhattan.
When the snow became heavy enough to facilitate the need for the windshield wipers, Smith laughed aloud, while believing that the success of his plan was assured.
Communication with his teams had ended when he left them, on the off-chance that the authorities would be monitoring all calls coming from the Times Square area and would have enough time to act upon them.
There was no further need for talk, only action, and Smith was confident that his men were seeding destruction with every passing second. Once they had dispersed the chemicals the men would gather at an isolated farmhouse that belonged to Professor Gates.
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