“I’m gonna reach under your arms and lift you. While I’m lifting you, Jim’s going to place these bags of sand,” Goodman pointed at the three sandbags on the floor beside them, “one at a time, on the chair. When you’re out of the chair, the sandbags will replace your weight, and all of us will get out of here. OK?”
Roger Montgomery nodded.
“Roger, this is very important. I don’t want you to try and stand up. OK? Just let me lift you.”
Goodman looked over at Silvester and back to the boy. He smiled, and asked, “Ready?”
He gently placed his arms under Roger, and pulled the boy towards him without taking any of the child’s weight off the chair. As he carefully moved the boy closer to the edge of the chair, Silvester moved behind them with two thirty-pound bags of sand, one in each hand, and slid them down the back cushion deliberately lowering the sandbags towards the seat. The veins and tendons on his forearms bulged under the weight.
Goodman nodded his head and partially lifted Roger’s backside a half-inch off the chair, as Silvester gently lowered one of the sandbags so that a corner of the bag was touching the seat cushion. He was careful not to place the full weight of the bag on the chair until more of Roger’s weight was taken away. As Goodman pulled the boy closer, Silvester allowed more of the weight of the bag to shift onto the chair. It took 90 seconds until he released the full thirty pounds of the sandbag and began to lower the other bag.
“You’re doing great Roger,” Goodman said. He looked up at Silvester and saw the beads of sweat on his forehead. He nodded and pulled the boy closer until Silvester lowered the second thirty-pound bag completely onto the chair.
“We’re two-thirds of the way there, Roger.”
Silvester wiped the sweat from his brow as he reached for the remaining sandbag. Roger Montgomery moaned. “You OK?” Goodman asked.
The boy began to sob.
“Look at me son. We’re almost finished. Jim can’t hold those bags too much longer. He’s gonna need your help,” he paused and smiled at the boy. “You ready?”
Roger nodded.
Sixty seconds later Goodman had moved the boy to the very edge of the chair. Silvester had positioned the third sandbag less than an inch above the seat.
Goodman looked up at Silvester and gave him a slight nod signaling he was ready to lift Roger Montgomery completely out of the chair. His movements and those of his companion were precise and perfectly timed. He hugged the boy as he finally lifted him and stepped closer to the sandbags behind the chair as Silvester removed his hands from the final sand bag. They had pulled it off!
A heartbeat later, before they cleared the chair, there was a faint click from beneath the chair. Silvester screamed, “Cover!”
Goodman, still holding the boy jumped behind the wall of sandbags with Silvester right behind him. He dropped the boy to the floor and lay on top of him. Silvester grabbed the cover and barely pulled it over them when the explosion erupted.
The concussive pressure from the overwhelming force of energy lifted their bodies off the floor. A millisecond later another wave of explosive pressure shook the room. The deafening sound of the explosion left Goodman’s ears ringing. Shrapnel from the bomb and other debris crashed down on the cover they had spread over them, striking the backs of the two men who shielded the boy who lay beneath them. Goodman could barely hear the boy’s screams over the ringing in his ears and the pounding of his own heart.
Benson, Hunter, and Wong, who were now standing behind a dump truck a block further east on 10th Street, watched in horror as the windows of the apartment blew out, sending shards of glass, bricks, wood and shrapnel through the air. Even from that distance they could feel the concussive force of the explosion. The cacophony of sounds - the bomb blast, sirens, car alarms, screams - added to the chaos.
Hunter tried to suppress his fury over the senseless violence and probable loss of life he was witnessing. He could not conceive that the two members of the tactical squad and the boy could have possibly survived the explosion.
“Mother fucker!” Wong screamed. “When I get my hands on that Korean cock-sucker, I’ll choke him to death!”
34
Immediately after the explosion
A full minute after the explosion when the last piece of debris had fallen on top of the tarp Goodman, his ears still ringing, rolled off Roger and looked over at his partner, “You alright?”
Silvester gave him the thumps-up.
Goodman looked down at Roger Montgomery, who was curled up beside him; the boy’s eyes were as wide as saucers. “How ‘bout you little man?”
Roger turned to him, the shock and terror of the explosion still apparent in the blank expression on his face. “Roger, can you hear me?”
The boy nodded, and reached for Goodman. He began to sob, and Goodman hugged him. “It’s alright. You’re safe now.”
Goodman and Silvester pushed the cover aside. They slowly got to their feet and surveyed the devastation that surrounded them. The sandbag wall was ripped and gashed from the ball-bearings, shards of glass and other debris, none of which had fully penetrated the barrier. Goodman’s gaze lingered on the epicenter of the blast for several seconds. He drew in a deep breath and held it. He blew it out and said to Silvester, “The bomb must’ve been tilted towards the front wall. I’m guessing that between the chair frame and the sand bags, we didn’t get the full force.”
Silvester took in the destruction around them and shrugged, “Maybe it just wasn’t our time.”
Goodman, slowly looked around what was left of the room again. There was a gaping hole in the roof above where he was standing; all of the windows and part of the front wall of the building were missing. Broken plaster, glass, bricks and wood lay all around them. There was nothing left of the chair that had been at the center of the explosion, only a hole in the floor.
The boy’s eyes widened as he took in the scene and listened to the two men who had saved his life converse so matter-of-factly about their brush with death.
The sound of pounding footsteps running up the stairs interrupted their conversation. Someone shouted, “Boss, Jim! You alright?”
“We’re good,” Goodman responded.
“Jesus!” the first man in exclaimed when he surveyed the devastation.
Three other members of the squad rushed in, “What the f…” One of the men stopped in mid-word when he saw the boy.
“Let whoever’s in charge know we’re OK. We’ll take Roger down and get him back to his mother,” Goodman said.
Roger reached up and wrapped his arms around Goodman’s neck. The man could feel the boy’s tears as he lifted him off the floor. “Whatdaya say we get outta here?”
The boy nodded. The three of them left the room and headed down the stairs, the tactical squad members and the bomb disposal unit applauded when they got to the ground floor. A number of them patted the boy’s head as he passed by.
When they stepped out of the building, Goodman put Roger down. He immediately ran over to Silvester and hugged him. Tears flowed down Sylvester’s cheeks as he tousled the boy’s hair.
Hunter and Benson approached; neither could conceal their amazement that the two men and the boy had survived.
Andrew Wong along with the Police Commissioner, and the Mayor were standing a few feet away. A large contingent of the media was barricaded behind them. Benson approached Goodman and said, “I think the PC and the Mayor want you to address the press. It would be better if we spare Roger the ordeal, don’t ya think?”
“Roger, ready to see your mother?” Goodman asked the boy.
The boy looked up and motioned for Goodman to lean down. “Will I see you and Jim again?” he asked.
“Count on that. You’re a member of our team now.”
Roger Montgomery beamed with pride.
The Montgomery Suite, Ritz Carlton Hotel
The reunion of the boy and his mother was far more restrained. The nanny led Roger into the sitting room in Cha
rles Montgomery’s suite in the Rittenhouse Hotel. The smile on Roger’s face that had been so joyous when he stood with his heroes and during his narrative to Hunter and Benson on the ride over suddenly seemed forced when he approached his mother.
Hanna Chao opened her arms, and the boy practically cringed when she awkwardly embraced him.
Benson turned to Hunter; his eyebrows arched in a ‘what the fuck is going on?’ expression. Hunter shrugged; Leonard Jarvis, who was also present looked down at the carpet; and Montgomery, with an expression of profound sadness on his face, watched in silence.
After she released Roger from the hug, Chao took her son by the hand. Before she led him out of the room, Montgomery said, “Roger, I’m told you were very brave. I’m proud of you son.”
The boy looked up at Montgomery and said, “Thank you, Father.”
“That’s not quite what I expected,” Benson said after Hanna and Roger left them.
Montgomery’s face left little doubt of his disgust of his former wife’s behavior. “She’s not the maternal type,” he said.
“Ya think?” Benson commented sarcastically.
“Maybe it’s a cultural thing,” Hunter added.
“Maybe,” Benson answered sarcastically. His turned from Hunter to the others in the room, and continued, “The thing I can’t quite wrap my mind around is, if the North Koreans want Triple M’s minerals, why would Qwon-Du Pak want to kill the kid. Roger’s their leverage. It just doesn’t add up.”
“When I was in Naval Intelligence, we gave up trying to figure out what motivated the Norks. They don’t see things like we do. They’ll starve their people and spend millions on developing a nuclear arsenal. Now that the boy’s safe, we need to focus on the underlying problem of eliminating the risk to Mr. Montgomery and his family,” Jarvis said.
Benson looked directly at Jarvis and said, “I suggest you leave that to the police and the feds.”
“Of course,” Jarvis replied, but his eyes betrayed the lie.
Benson turned to Hunter, “We need to talk.”
Hunter nodded.
“Now,” Benson said and motioned for Hunter to follow him out of the room.
“Gentlemen, I’ll see you after Detective Benson and I have concluded our business.”
35
Southwest Detectives
Benson drove Hunter to Southwest Detectives, where Jake Loman was waiting for them. Instead of taking him to one of the interview rooms, they went to the conference room where Captain Jamison was sitting at the conference table.
“Mr. Carson,” Jamison said.
Hunter waved his hand, “My name’s Charles Hunter,” he said.
Jamison nodded, “I know. My detectives filled me in on your history. They tell me you’re a stand-up guy. I personally checked out your military record. Spoke to your former CO. He told me you’re the real deal. Benny and Jake also said you would never do anything to jeopardize your niece’s well-being. So, I’m gonna give you some leeway.”
“Thank you, sir,” Hunter replied.
“Here’s the thing. Whatever the fuck you’re planning to do,” he nodded to Benson and Loman, “my detectives are gonna be with you, to make sure you don’t act beyond your authority. If they tell you to back off, that’s exactly what you’ll do. We clear on that?”
Hunter nodded.
“One jarhead to another, don’t make me sorry I agreed to extend you this courtesy,” Jamison stood up, and extended his hand.
“Thank you again sir.”
“Semper fi marine,” he said and walked out of the conference room.
* * *
After Jamison left, Benson opened the folder he had placed on the conference table in front of him and passed copies of the documents in it to Hunter and Loman. “This is the extract Nikki got from Homeland on your guy who blew-up Chinatown today. She had to twist some arms to get this, Homeland doesn’t like to share, even with the Secret Service, despite the fact they’re part of them.
His name is Ran Kang-Dae. He’s a former member of the RGB, according to what Homeland was told by the CIA.”
The dossier listed his age at 37 and other vital statistics, including a list of kidnappings, assassinations, and other crimes that he was alleged to have committed.
“We figure, Kang-Dae, which loosely translated means ‘big and strong,’ is probably an alias. The CIA refers to him as ‘Scarface.’ Anyway, he was supposedly cashiered out of the RGB along with Qwon-Du Pak.”
“You think he’s still in the RGB?” Hunter asked.
“Nikki and her boss think so.”
Hunter stared at the picture of the man as he thought through the implications of the DPRK’s involvement in the attacks on Montgomery’s family. “The first time I heard anything about North Korea’s involvement in this was last night,” he said.
“Are you telling us Montgomery and his guy were withholding this from you?” Benson asked.
Hunter did not immediately respond as he considered the question. “I don’t think so. Maybe they didn’t know about it until then.”
“Either way, we need to nail this down,” Benson said.
36
The Montgomery suite at the Ritz Carlton Hotel
“Mother why does Father hate me?” Roger asked Hanna Chao.
Chao considered the question, as she evaluated the possible consequences of further alienating her son from Michael Montgomery, as well as the potential benefits if she chose an alternative strategy. Although she gave birth to the boy, she considered the child an inconvenience and had no real emotional connection to him. She had not told Roger that Montgomery was not his father.
Chao had been caught off guard by the attempt to kill the boy. Qwon had never told her about it. She realized that despite the fact that the plan to use the child as a means to assume control of Triple M had fallen apart when Montgomery disclosed his vasectomy, as far as Chao was aware, her handlers believed that the boy could still be used as leverage. This was especially the case since before the divorce the relationship between Roger and Montgomery had been surprisingly warm and loving; even though the man knew he was not the boy’s biological father. Why kill the child now?
“He doesn’t hate you,” she replied.
“Then why won’t he have anything to do with me?” Roger asked, not knowing that she was responsible for the estrangement.
“I don’t know. Why don’t you ask him yourself?” She stepped further away from her son as she considered her next move. “Wait here - I’ll be right back.”
Chao knocked on the door to the sitting room. Leonard Jarvis opened it. “Is Michael still here?” she asked.
Jarvis turned, Montgomery nodded, and he waved her in, “Mr. Montgomery, Ms. Chao is here.”
Montgomery, who was sitting on a sofa in the center of the room, stood up.
Chao approached him and said, “As I’m sure you can imagine, the boy is upset. He would like to speak with you; there’s something he wants to ask you.” Her manner was cold and businesslike.
Montgomery held her indifferent gaze and replied, “Of course.”
Minutes later there was a soft knock, Montgomery opened the door and said, “Please come in,” and led the boy to the sofa.
When they sat down, he asked. “Can I get you something to drink? Are you hungry?”
Roger shook his head.
“Your mother told me you wanted to ask me something.”
The boy nodded.
Montgomery smiled and waited for Roger to continue.
“Why don’t you like me?” he said as the tears suddenly flowed down his cheeks
Montgomery was momentarily stunned by the child’s display of emotion. He could only imagine the pain he must be experiencing from the feeling of rejection. He embraced the boy who was sobbing and could not stop his own tears. They held each other for several minutes. The only sound was the ticking of a grandfather clock that stood in the corner of the room.
Montgomery loosened his hold on t
he boy, pulled a handkerchief from his pocket, and gently wiped the tears from Roger’s cheeks. “I think it’s time that we get to know one another,” he said.
There was a knock on the door. “Room Service!”
“I ordered us some lunch. Are you hungry?”
The boy nodded.
While they ate lunch, Montgomery and Roger talked like they used to before Chao spirited the child away. Montgomery was struck by the mature and articulate way with which the boy expressed his thoughts and the depths of his loneliness. He told Roger how sorry he was for not being there for him. He didn’t tell the child that he had repeatedly asked Hanna to allow him to visit and that all such requests had been denied.
“Can I stay with you?” Roger asked.
The earnestness of the boy’s question tugged at Montgomery. “I would like that very much, if your mother agrees.”
“She doesn’t love me. She won’t care,” Roger said with a certainness that hurt Montgomery to his core.
* * *
When Hunter, Benson and Loman returned to Montgomery’s suite, Jarvis filled them in on the development involving Roger Montgomery’s request that he live with Michael.
“Did Mr. Montgomery agree?” Hunter asked.
“He and the boy met with Hanna Chao. She threatened a custody battle.”
“I’m not a lawyer, but didn’t he tell us the boy is not his biological son?” Benson commented.
Jarvis nodded.
Benson shrugged.
“Where’s Roger now?” Hunter asked.
“He’s with Mr. Montgomery. He refused to stay with his mother,” Jarvis replied.
“I can’t blame the kid. Did you see how she greeted him? Like she could barely stand touching him,” Jake said.
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