Solomon's Gold

by Alex Lukeman

  More wires were hooked up to a package in front of the container. Seconds ticked off as the timer counted down.

  Nick set his flashlight down in the duct, pointing at the bomb.

  "There's a bomb, and a timer counting down. Call Harker, clear the hotel."

  Selena took out her phone and speed dialed Virginia.

  "Yes, Selena."

  "We found a bomb. Nick says clear the hotel."

  "Tell her, do it now," Nick yelled from inside the duct. "Tell her she's got less than four minutes."

  "I heard that," Elizabeth said.

  She disconnected and started making calls.

  "Oh, shit," Kowalski said.

  "Get out of here," Ronnie said. "Find the first cop you can find and tell him there's a bomb. Then get out of the hotel."

  Kowalski ran for the door.

  "What have we got, Nick?" Ronnie asked.

  "There are two different packages, both of them wired up. There's a timer counting down. It's hooked up to a black object that's round, about two feet long. Sophisticated. This isn't some homemade job. The second package has wires coming out of it, too. It's covered with some kind of paste. Probably something to fool the dogs."

  "What do you need?"

  "I think the package blows when anybody messes with the timer or the black thing and sets it all off. There are a lot of wires. I cut the wrong one, it's all she wrote."

  "Can you get to the timer?"

  "Not without going through a web of wires. Someone knew what they were doing when they put this together."

  Then he thought, Selena. The baby.

  "Selena, get out of here."

  "Just defuse it, Nick. I'm not leaving you here."

  "Damn it, Selena."

  "Tell us what to do, Nick. None of us are going anywhere."

  Ronnie said, "How much time, Kemo Sabe?"

  "Less than two minutes. We could use one of those transporters about now, like they had on Star Trek."

  The timer was down to one minute and fifty-seven seconds. He took out his knife.

  "Not much I can do. I'm going to start cutting."

  "Wait," Selena said.

  She ran over to the wall, pulled down a fire extinguisher, and ran back.

  "That might work," Ronnie said.

  "What might work?" Nick called.

  Ronnie grabbed the extinguisher from Selena, ducked through the access panel, and climbed up the ladder below Nick.

  "Spray the shit out of it with this," Ronnie said. "It's cold, it will coat everything. It should stop the timer."

  "What if it doesn't?"

  "Then we'll all be sitting on a cloud somewhere having a cold beer. Use the extinguisher."

  He handed it up. Nick took the extinguisher from him and looked at the timer.

  Forty-two seconds.

  He pulled the safety pin, pointed the extinguisher at the malevolent package in front of him, and squeezed the trigger. A cloud of white blasted out of the nozzle, coating everything in the ductwork and beyond. Nick closed his eyes and ducked down as some of the spray blew back at him. It felt ice cold against his skin.

  He opened his eyes and looked down the duct. The beam from his flashlight illuminated a scene that might've come out of a Christmas display window in a department store. Everything was covered with a thick coating of white. A faint shine of red from the timer came through the white. He couldn't read the numbers, but it didn't look as though they were moving. Even as he watched, the red glow faded.

  "Must've worked," he said. "Time to get the bomb squad in here."

  Nick climbed down the ladder and stepped out into the room.

  Lamont and Ronnie started laughing.

  "What's so funny?"

  Ronnie said, "Your face and hair are covered in white. You look like a damn zombie."

  Selena wrapped her arms around him.

  "You should've left."

  "Not a chance," she said.

  CHAPTER 48

  Elizabeth was in her office, on the phone with Hood at Langley.

  "It was sarin," Hood said. "It was supposed to release into the ventilation system. There was enough gas to kill everyone in the conference, including the President and the prime minister. I think you just renewed your lease with the White House. Corrigan knows it was your team that found the device and deactivated it."

  "It won't make any difference, if his Chief of Staff has anything to say about it."

  "She won't be there forever. As far as the public knows, it was a conventional bomb, not poison gas. That device wasn't manufactured in somebody's basement. Your average terrorist doesn't have access to the kind of machinery necessary to manufacture that cylinder, not to mention the gas. We think Tehran is behind this, but we can't prove it."

  "Were not out of the woods yet," Elizabeth said. "Those three are still out there somewhere. They may try something else."

  "I'm going to send something to you," Hood said. "One of the agents who was killed at the van was documenting the search with a video. His phone was destroyed, but he was streaming images back to headquarters. I'd like you to look at it. That, and the video from the garage that led them there in the first place."

  "Do we have a visual on any of the terrorists? Something we can use to help identify them?"

  "You can see someone sitting in front as the van enters the garage, but his face isn't visible."

  "Send everything over," Elizabeth said. "We'll take a look at it."

  "Check your inbox. It should be there now."

  Elizabeth looked at the screen on her computer, entered a command, and saw the files.

  "Got it."

  "I've got to run."

  Hood disconnected. Elizabeth looked at the phone and set it down. It seemed like every phone conversation she had with Hood ended like that. She wasn't sure that boded well for the future of a relationship between them.

  The team was back in Virginia. Elizabeth decided that everyone needed to watch the video. Six pairs of eyes were better than one. Stephanie was down in the computer room. Nick and the others were either in the gym or on the range.

  Fifteen minutes later, everyone was settled on the couch, looking at the blank monitor behind Elizabeth's desk.

  "I have two videos I want you to watch," Elizabeth said. "The first one shows the van used by the terrorists entering the garage where it was found. The second was taken by one of the FBI agents as they examined it."

  "What are we looking for?" Ronnie asked.

  "Anything that might give us a clue about who these people are, help us track them down, or ID them. It's a slim chance, but these videos are all we have. That, and FBI drawings based on Kowalski's descriptions. This is what they came up with."

  Artist drawings of the three men appeared on the monitor.

  "Those are pretty generic," Nick said. "Could be any three men from anywhere in the Middle East."

  "They're better than nothing. Sometimes they get it right," Elizabeth said. "Watch the videos and tell me what you think."

  "We got any popcorn?"

  Elizabeth gave Lamont one of her looks.

  "Sorry," he said.

  "We'll start with the garage," Elizabeth said. "I'll run it in slow motion."

  They watched as the white van came into view. The video was grainy and badly lit. The camera was angled to capture the license plate as the vehicle passed. You couldn't see who was sitting in the front, only someone sitting on the passenger side as the van passed the camera. The license plate was clearly visible as it went past the camera and into the garage. The video clip came to an end.

  "That's it?" Nick asked.

  "The next one is longer," Elizabeth said.

  The video from Silverton's phone began playing on the monitor. The image panned over three of the agents. The audio quality was poor, but they could make out what was being said.

  "The tall one is Matthews," Elizabeth said. "He was in charge."

  The video zoomed in on the license plate and th
en swiveled to follow Matthews as he walked to the driver side door. They saw him take disposable gloves from his pocket and put them on before he tried the door.

  "Locked. It figures."

  "How about the back?"

  "That's Dodge speaking," Elizabeth said.

  On screen, Matthews walked to the back of the truck and tried the handle.

  "We're in luck," Matthews said.

  He moved to open the door. The screen went white.

  "Some luck," Lamont said.

  "Let's see those videos again," Nick said. "Something's off."

  Elizabeth ran them again.

  "You see it?" Nick asked.

  "Where's the sign?" Ronnie said. "When it came into the garage, it had a sign on it."

  "I'll be damned," Elizabeth said. "You're right."

  "No one's commented on the sign?" Selena asked.

  "No," Elizabeth said. "If they had, I would've heard about it. I can't believe I didn't see that."

  "How do you get rid of a sign painted on the side of a truck?" Nick asked.

  "Maybe it was one of those magnetic signs," Ronnie said. "People use them all the time to advertise their business. It's cheaper, and if you change vehicles you can take it with you."

  "A magnetic sign would make sense," Selena said. "They wouldn't risk taking a rental to a painter."

  "How many people make those kinds of signs?" Ronnie asked.

  "You can buy them at a lot of places," Nick said. "But most of those don't manufacture them. They have to be ordered."

  "Someone had to make it and they'll have a record of who ordered it," Elizabeth said. "It's a lead. I'll let Clarence know."

  CHAPTER 49

  Dayoud paced back and forth in the small apartment, while Hamid and Amin watched.

  "It was bad luck," Hamid said.

  "We failed," Dayoud said. "That is all Tehran will see. We will never have another opportunity like that. Months of planning, gone, with no results."

  "It's not our fault," Amin said.

  Dayoud scowled at him. "You are a fool."

  "You don't have to be insulting."

  "Do you understand nothing? Yesterday, you were talking about going home. That is no longer an option."

  "What do you mean?"

  "He means it is necessary to redeem ourselves in the eyes of Allah," Hamid said.

  Dayoud nodded approvingly. "That is right, brother. You see clearly to the heart of the matter."

  Amin looked from one to the other. "What are you saying?"

  "Explain it to him, Hamid."

  "He means we must now become shahid."

  "Martyrdom?" Amin was shocked.

  Hamid's voice was gentle. "Think about it, brother. It was never certain we would return home. We always knew it might be necessary to give our lives for the cause."

  "Yes, but..."

  "We took the oath, you know we must honor it. If we had succeeded in killing the Jew and the American president, things would be different. Now we will use our lives to sow death among the unbelievers."

  Amin bowed his head. "You are right, brother."

  Hamid patted him on the arm. "Allah will welcome us to Paradise."

  "I have already thought about our targets," Dayoud said.

  He went into the bedroom and took a folded map from the dresser. He came back to where the others sat and spread the map out on the kitchen table. Three areas were circled in red.

  "This is a map of Manhattan," Dayoud said.

  He tapped the map with his finger. "This is Times Square. It is always crowded at night, with thousands of people. The Americans gather there like mindless cows in the field. I will take the gas into the midst of them and release it. Many will die."

  Dayoud pointed to a second spot.

  "This is Penn Station. It is a major transportation hub for the city. Subways and trains and buses all come here. Hamid, you will take a vest and find a central spot. When you are satisfied that you can do the most damage, you will fulfill your oath. You will be the first to gain martyrdom."

  "God willing," Hamid said.

  "What will I do?" Amin said.

  "You and I will go to Times Square together. The explosion at Penn Station will confuse the police and draw them away. Your target is a theater on 48th St. where a popular play is being staged. The play glorifies the deviant sexuality of this decadent country. It is a perfect statement that the infidels cannot ignore."

  "I will wear a vest?"

  "Yes. You will wait outside until the play is over. When the stream of people leaving is at its peak, then you detonate the vest."

  "What if I'm detected?"

  "The vest will be hidden under your coat. No one will notice you."

  "When do we attack?" Hamid asked.

  "Today is Thursday. Tomorrow is a day for prayer. We will attack on the evening of the next day."

  CHAPTER 50

  It was Saturday, and unseasonably warm on the East Coast. People were out taking advantage of the freakish sunshine and warm weather. Weekends were usually a time when Elizabeth could relax. This weekend, relaxation wasn't an option.

  There wasn't much she could do without more information. Everyone knew there could be another attack. The three Iranians had failed to kill the Israeli prime minister and President Corrigan, but that didn't mean they were done. She'd sent Nick and the team back to New York, on the off chance something would turn up. Something to give them a chance at finding the terrorists before they could do any more damage.

  Elizabeth's phone signaled a call from Langley.

  "Hello, Clarence."

  "Elizabeth. I have some news."

  "Good news, I hope."

  "We've tracked down the New York manufacturer of the sign that was on the van. The Bureau is sending someone there now."

  "You don't think the terrorists are done, do you,?" Elizabeth said.

  "No, I don't. That device was sophisticated. These aren't your average suicide bombers. They were too well-equipped to give up if the first attempt didn't work out."

  "So far, they haven't made any mistakes."

  "Sooner or later they will," Hood said. "There's always a mistake. It will probably turn out to be something simple. Hang on, I'm getting another call. Right back."

  Hood put her on hold. Elizabeth looked at the sun shining on the patio outside and thought again about how nice it would be, to be lying on a beach somewhere.

  "I'm back," Hood said. "The Bureau got the address of the store where the sign was ordered. It's in the city."

  "Whereabouts?"

  Hood gave her the address.

  "Nick and the others are in a hotel three blocks from there. I can send them to check it out."

  "The FBI might not appreciate that."

  "I don't care what the FBI appreciates," Elizabeth said. "We can get there quicker than they can. Time is a factor here."

  "Go ahead and send them," Hood said. "I'll pass the word."

  "I'll call you as soon as I know what they know," Elizabeth said. "I'll call them now."

  She disconnected and called Nick.

  "Yeah, Director."

  "Where are you?"

  "In the hotel, about to eat lunch."

  "We know where the sign for the van was ordered," Elizabeth said. "It's a store about three blocks from where you are now. I want you to go there and talk to whoever took the order. Do it now."

  "On my way," Nick said. He hung up.

  The waiter set the plates with food down on the table. Nick stood and looked at the others.

  "That was Harker. Let's go."

  "What about the food?" Lamont asked.

  "We'll eat later."

  Nick took four twenties out of his wallet and tossed them on the table.

  "That ought to cover it."

  "For burgers and coffee?" Lamont said.

  "It's New York."

  Lamont picked up his burger and followed Nick and the others out of the hotel.

  It only took a few mi
nutes to walk to the store where the sign had been ordered. It was a narrow shop, crammed between a beauty parlor and a pizza joint. The aisles were loaded with tourist items. Cups with I Love New York printed on them, miniature statues of liberty, key rings with pictures of the Empire State building, stuffed animals, an endless array of souvenirs. They made their way to a counter in the back. A sign listed available services. One was copying keys. Another stated that custom signs could be made to order.

  "Must be the right place," Ronnie said.

  A sour-faced, dark-haired man about fifty years old stood behind the counter, watching them. Streaks of white showed in his hair. He needed a shave. A smell of stale smoke hung around him like a cloud. He looked nervous as he saw them approaching, his hand under the counter, ready to press an alarm. A name tag on his shirt identified him as Niko.

  Nick showed him his gold badge. He only used it in situations like this. It wasn't the kind of thing he took with him into places like Pakistan.

  "Are you the owner?" Nick asked.

  "Nah, I just work here."

  The accent was pure New York. Nick took out the FBI drawings made from Kowalski's description of Dayoud and the others. He laid them on the counter.

  "We only want to ask you a few questions," Nick said. "You're not in any trouble. You recognize any of these people?"

  Niko looked down at the drawings and back up again. "Nah, I ain't seen anybody like that."

  "Look again," Nick said. There was an edge of steel in his voice. "Take your time. Really take your time. Be sure."

  Niko looked at Nick, then at Lamont and the scar running across his face. He looked down again at the pictures.

  "Maybe," Niko said. "Maybe this one."

  He pointed at one of the pictures. Nick waited.

  "Yeah, I remember. He ordered a big sign for his truck. A contractor sign. I sell a lot of those, but usually not that big. That's why I remember it."

  Nick said, "Do you have an order slip for him?"

  "Maybe, I don't know. If I do, it's in the back."

  "You want to get it for me?"

  Niko looked at the store. "I gotta keep an eye on things. Sometimes people try to steal stuff."

  Selena smiled at him. "We'll watch the store for you. It would be a big help if you could find that slip."