by Irene Hannon
Keeping one hand on the wheel, Luke called Nick.
Two rings in the man answered. “What’s up?”
“Do you know if your people have Doud in their sights yet?”
“No—but if they don’t, they’re in the process of scoping out the alley behind his office to see if his car’s there.”
“It’s not.” Luke filled him in on the conversation he’d had with Alexa. “And Kristin’s not answering her cell.”
“Is that significant?”
“Yes. She always answers my calls.” Her frenetic trip to Boston had been the sole exception. “One miss, I could live with. Three rolls to voicemail raises a red flag.”
“Okay. Let me alert our people that Doud went home in case they’re still working the office location.”
“In the meantime, I’m going to do a drive-by of his house myself. See if Kristin’s car is there. I’m not that far away.”
“If you find anything suspicious, call for backup before you make any move.”
“That was my plan.” His response came out sharper than he intended—but he wasn’t a rookie at this. He knew how to rein in his emotions and let the left side of his brain take over in dangerous situations.
Even if this case might put that skill to the test.
“Sorry.” If Nick was put out by his attitude, the man’s conciliatory tone gave no indication of it. “We all have a tendency to overreact when people we care about are involved. Been there, done that. I’ll call you back as soon as I get an update on the surveillance.”
“Thanks.”
Luke dropped the cell onto the seat beside him, hit his lights and siren, and pressed on the gas. Only when he was within a mile of Ryan’s house would he pull back on the emergency maneuvers.
Nick might think they were overkill, anyway.
But his gut said otherwise.
And in all the years he’d been in law enforcement, his gut had rarely lied to him.
Something was going down. He could feel it in his bones.
Even worse, he had a sinking feeling Kristin was in the middle of it.
“You understand what I’ve told you, correct?”
Kristin tried to speak, but her voice choked as Ryan carefully lifted the bomb-laced vest and approached her. She nodded instead.
“Nevertheless, I’ll remind you again. This type of explosive is volatile and unstable. The chemicals are sensitive to heat, shock, and friction. I have the control button, but the more you move, the higher the risk it will detonate on its own. Keep that in mind.”
He stopped in front of her and lowered the hole in the vest over her head. As the twenty-plus-pound weight settled over her, the air whooshed out of her lungs.
She was now a walking bomb. One that could blow up at any moment—either deliberately, with the push of the button at the end of the wire Ryan had shown her, or by mistake if she happened to inhale the wrong way.
And there was no escape.
Even if Luke somehow discovered her predicament, he couldn’t help her. Ryan controlled the button, and he could press it before anyone got close.
Based on everything she’d read about suicide bombers, however, he would prefer to detonate it in a crowded place where he could inflict the maximum amount of harm.
“Stand up.”
With a fervent plea to the Almighty for protection, she struggled to her feet under the weight.
Ryan disappeared behind her, and a second later a sharp snap freed her wrists from the wire restraints.
“Hold your arms straight out at your sides.”
She lifted them, parsing out each breath.
He leaned in close and secured the front and back of the vest, pulling the straps taut under her arms until the deadly garment was snug against her body.
Backing off, he gave her a swift perusal, then picked up a man’s sturdy, long-sleeved denim shirt from the counter and held it open behind her. “Slide your arms into this.”
After she complied, he stepped in front of her again. “Button the front and the sleeves.”
Fingers trembling, she did as he instructed while she tried to jump-start her numb brain.
Think, Kristin! Don’t give up, no matter how low the odds you’ll survive. Buy yourself some time to come up with a plan. Get him talking.
“Why did you . . . did you arrange to have Dr. Bishara killed?” She grasped at the first thought that came to mind. “He couldn’t identify you.”
“He was a loose end.” Ryan crossed to the laptop on the counter and tapped some keys. “Too bad the maintenance man was armed. But Bishara may not survive anyway.”
She fumbled a button. “How do you know about the maintenance man?”
Ryan’s lips twisted as he jotted a few notes on a pad of paper beside him. “The cops aren’t the only ones who can listen in on conversations.”
“You bugged me?” She stared at him. “How?”
“There are apps for everything these days. It’s easy to put a tap on a phone—and turn a cell into a microphone. All you need is access to someone’s phone for five or ten minutes.”
“You never had . . .” Her words trailed off. The day he’d invited her in for coffee cake, she’d left her purse in his office before going to the conference room . . . and he’d disappeared to take a call.
“I see you figured it out.” He waved the slip of paper at her with a grim smile. “I’m glad I did some preliminary research on venues. This won’t rival 9/11, but it will definitely make a statement.” He folded it in half and tucked it in his pocket.
“Why don’t you tie me up and leave me behind? You don’t need me to do this.”
Her desperation-laced plea had no impact on the man she’d once thought of as a friend.
“On the contrary.” He picked up his keys from the counter, his face devoid of all emotion. “It could come in handy to have a hostage if anyone tries to stop me.”
Hostage.
Her stomach did a flip-flop.
Keep it together, Kristin. Don’t panic. Stall.
“What are you p-planning to do?”
“You’ll see soon enough. Let’s go.” He picked up the detonation button at the end of a long cord and motioned for her to precede him out the door, into the attached garage.
“Can’t we—”
“I said let’s go.” He glared at her, impatience flashing in his eyes. “Now.”
So much for her delay tactics.
He followed her into the garage, but at the car she hesitated. “If I lean back against the seat, won’t I set this off?”
“It’s possible. So I’d advise you not to lean back.”
Her legs began to shake, and she groped for the car, easing gently inside after he opened the door.
He closed it with a soft click, circled around to the driver’s side, and took his place behind the wheel. A few seconds later, the garage door rumbled up behind them, and light spilled into the dark space.
“Brace yourself.” He leaned forward to start the engine.
As he backed out of the garage, Kristin angled sideways in her seat, gripping the dash with one hand and splaying the fingers of the other on the seat back, cringing with every bump and sway as he rolled down the driveway and swung onto the street.
“Where are we g-going?”
He didn’t respond.
Apparently he was through talking.
And maybe it didn’t matter.
She might not know their destination, but she knew what was going to happen after they got there.
Dozens—perhaps hundreds—of people would die.
If Luke and his cohorts had an inkling about what was happening, they might be able to contain some of the damage. Not save her, but spare the lives of a multitude of potential victims.
Unfortunately, they had no clue what was unfolding.
Only she was privy to Ryan’s plans.
And you can minimize the death and destruction.
As the startling truth echoed in her mind,
she froze.
She did have some control over this situation.
She was wearing the vest—and because it was volatile, she had a say in when it detonated too.
Meaning she could let Ryan drive this car to wherever he intended to wreak chaos . . . or she could force his hand in a location where just the two of them would be killed.
Her heart began to hammer even harder.
If the vest was as unstable as he’d indicated, all she had to do was fall on the ground . . . or tackle him . . . or lunge for the button in a spot where the fewest people would be injured.
But taking such a heroic leap would require a huge amount of courage.
Perhaps more than she possessed.
Only at the moment of decision would the true depth of her bravery be tested.
In the meantime, all she could do was pray she’d have the mettle to do what needed to be done when the time came.
Wait!
Luke did a double take as he passed a car at the corner of Doud’s street. Kristin was in the passenger seat, perched at an odd angle, half twisted toward the driver.
None other than Doud.
He bit back a word that wasn’t pretty as they continued on their way, neither of them paying any attention to his car.
Not that it would have mattered if they did. The dark-tinted windows hid his features.
But he’d had an unobstructed view of them. And though his glimpse of Kristin had been brief, one thing had been clear.
She was pale as death.
Quashing the urge to hit his lights and sirens again and take off after them, he executed a quick U-turn as Doud made a left at the corner. After falling in behind him, he kept several car lengths between them while he punched in Nick’s number.
The FBI agent answered at once. “I passed on your message to our agents. They’re en route to Doud’s house as we speak.”
“Too late.” Luke accelerated through a yellow light, focusing on Doud’s car. “I just got here. He was pulling out of his street as I arrived—and Kristin’s in the front seat. Based on her pallor and body language, she’s not a willing passenger.”
A beat passed, and when Nick spoke again, his tone was grim. “I’ll have our guys join the tail. Expect a call from them momentarily. You can keep them apprised of your location until they meet up with you. I’ll have the second agent in the car do the same for me so I can join the entourage too.”
“Could we get some air support?” It would be disastrous if the ground tail lost Doud.
“Too problematic. It could tip off Doud that he’s being followed. I’ll also alert Mark to put the SWAT team on standby.”
“Let’s hope we don’t need them.”
“Agreed.”
But as Luke ended the call and accelerated to keep Doud’s car in sight, it was clear they might need a lot more than a SWAT team to stop a man with ISIS connections—and to save a passenger who could very well be a hostage.
Was that Luke’s Taurus back there?
Kristin squinted out the back window as the black car continued to follow in their wake.
It looked like his vehicle.
But that had to be wishful thinking.
Why would Luke appear out of nowhere just when she needed help?
Ryan executed a sharp left, and Kristin’s heart lurched as she scrambled to brace herself again.
“It appears your boyfriend might be tailing us.” Ryan flicked a glance in the rearview mirror.
So he’d noticed the car too—and the same thought had crossed his mind.
Yet it still made no sense.
“He has no idea where I am.”
“Who knew you were planning to stop by my house? And don’t lie to me again.”
“Your assistant. I tried to return your cell at the office first. And Alexa. That’s it.”
Ryan’s jaw hardened. “Alexa might have told your detective if he phoned the shop looking for you. That could be why he’s been trying to call you.”
“He wouldn’t know where I am now, though.”
“Unless he was watching my house.” Ryan drummed his fingers on the wheel, twin crevices denting his forehead. “Let’s find out.”
For the next few minutes, he drove a winding route through the streets, checking the rearview mirror every couple of minutes.
Kristin continued to watch out the back window too, searching for signs of the Taurus.
But the car eventually disappeared.
Along with her misplaced hope.
Fear bubbled up inside her again as her gaze traced the wire that ran from under her shirt to the detonation button draped over Ryan’s leg. Even if Luke had been following them, there was nothing he could have done to save her. All Ryan had to do was reach down and press the button if anyone got close.
That might not be how he wanted this to end, but if his plans went south, she had no doubt he’d set off the bomb rather than risk capture.
Since the black Taurus was gone, however, Ryan would be free to carry out whatever nefarious plan he’d concocted, without any interference.
Except from her.
She shifted around to scan the route ahead rather than watch the road behind.
Maybe she didn’t have the fanatical mind-set of a jihadist who placed no value on his own life, but she cared about other people—and the only way to save them was to ensure the bomb went off in a spot where there would be the fewest possible casualties.
Where that might be, she had no idea. Certainly not here, in the midst of Friday afternoon traffic.
But once they came to a place that would work, she’d have to make a quick decision and go for it full out.
Because she’d have only one chance. If she failed, Ryan wouldn’t let her try again.
She eyed the button in Ryan’s lap again, a wave of nausea rolling through her.
God, please help me see this through! Give me the courage to do what needs to be done—and to trust that you will be with me to the end.
30
“Do your people still have Doud in view?” Luke repositioned the cell against his ear, maneuvered around a sluggish driver, and accelerated.
“Affirmative. He’s moving south.” Nick’s tone was clipped and businesslike.
“Okay.” Relinquishing the tail to the FBI agents had about killed him . . . but the standard protocol of switching follow cars did reduce the risk of being spotted. If he didn’t have a personal interest in Doud’s passenger, he wouldn’t have given it a second thought.
Letting Kristin out of his sight, however, wasn’t sitting well.
“Mark’s assembled the SWAT unit—and our top sniper team is en route too.”
Sniper.
Luke’s blood chilled at the thought of Kristin anywhere near a sniper’s line of sight.
“What about a negotiator?”
“We have one on standby—but this isn’t a negotiation situation. One of the agents in the follow car has a pair of high-powered binoculars trained on the occupants. Doud’s in a T-shirt. Ms. Dane’s wearing a bulky, oversized long-sleeved shirt.”
Oversized clothing plus long sleeves in ninety-two-degree weather.
As he did the math, the wheel grew slippery beneath Luke’s palms.
“You think Doud put his bomb-making skills to work and she’s wearing the result.”
“I think that’s a strong possibility. We dispatched some of our people to his house. From the back window they had a view into his kitchen—and what they saw gave us plenty of grounds for an exigent circumstances search.”
As Luke listened to Nick describe what they’d found, his stomach knotted. “It sounds like he was making TATP.”
“We concur. How much do you know about that?”
“A fair amount. I was on the bomb squad in Richmond for a while. Triacetone triperoxide is a favorite of suicide bombers, so it fits with what we already know about Doud and his background.”
“I agree. At least he’s driving the car, which suggests we�
��re not dealing with a dead man’s switch.”
“True.” Trying to keep a switch depressed while maneuvering a car through traffic would be tricky. One slip of his finger, the bomb would detonate. “So the question becomes, is there an activation button or is it a wireless trigger?”
“We’re going to cover the latter contingency by flooding the airwaves with radio frequencies to jam the signal. Too bad he’s not driving a GM car.”
“Yeah.” It would give them far more control if they could have that company’s OnStar technology remotely disable the car at a place of their choosing. “Since that’s not an option, what’s the plan?”
“I’m going to take over the tail in about half a mile. We’ve got more agents on the way, but stick close. We may need you back in the rotation until they get here. Cross street coming up.”
As Nick read it off, Luke adjusted his course. “I’m a quarter mile back. If you need me, I can catch up fast.”
“I’m hoping our people get here first. Doud may know your vehicle. You paid WorldCraft several visits, correct?”
“Yes.” He couldn’t dispute the possibility the man had taken note of his car.
“If we can keep you out of the rotation . . . hold.” A muted voice spoke from Nick’s radio, then he was back. “He’s on the ramp for I-44 westbound.”
West?
“I would have expected him to head east, into the city. There are all kinds of events going on in town on a Friday night—baseball game, concerts, conventions.”
“A suicide vest would have a problem getting through security at those venues.”
“There’s not much security in the peripheral areas, though. Or the large public gathering spots, like Kiener Plaza and Ballpark Village. The Paris bombings were all in public spaces.” Luke maneuvered around a slow car.
“But there were several bombers involved in that incident, adding to the impact. Doud is working alone. Given his connections to a top ISIS figure in Syria, I suspect he’s picked a target that will make a bigger statement than killing random civilians.”
“If he gets that far. The vest could blow all by itself.” The words left a rancid taste in his mouth—but dancing around the facts wasn’t going to improve Kristin’s chance of surviving this.
