by Irene Hannon
“I know how sensitive and unstable TATP is—and I’m aware of the danger to everyone involved. Particularly Ms. Dane.” A beat passed, and when Nick continued, his voice was shadowed with regret. “There’s no good solution to this, Luke. People are going to get hurt.”
And some were going to die.
Kristin among them, unless the odds somehow shifted in their favor.
Squeezing the wheel, he tried to keep his inner turmoil under wraps. “All we can do is our best.”
“And that’s what we’ll do. All of us.”
Luke swallowed hard and hung a left. “I’m coming up on the I-44 entrance ramp.”
“Copy that. I’m in position to relieve the previous tail. Hang tight.”
What other choice did he have?
Five minutes later, his cell buzzed again. “He’s exiting onto I-270 south.”
“Got it. Keep me apprised.”
“Will do.”
Luke dropped the phone onto his lap, turned on his blinkers for the I-270 exit, and tried to make sense of Doud’s route.
Failed.
And driving blind stunk.
How were they supposed to plan a strategy if they didn’t know the destination?
As minute after minute ticked by with no update from Nick, Luke’s grip on the wheel tightened. They were running out of Missouri exits.
Was the man going to cross the Mississippi into Illinois? And what was on the other side of the river this far south other than cornfields and . . .
His phone buzzed again, and he grabbed it.
“He’s exiting onto Telegraph north.”
At Nick’s grim tone, Luke tensed. “Is that significant?” Being new to a city was a definite disadvantage in a situation like this. Too bad his work hadn’t yet taken him this far south.
“There’s a banquet center on Telegraph that draws large crowds. Jefferson Barracks is down there too.”
He frowned. “The veterans’ cemetery?”
“There’s also an adjacent park with the same name. They often have special events there.”
Park.
Special events.
Luke’s brain began clicking.
The department-wide alert that had gone out earlier in the week—it had mentioned Jefferson Barracks. But with all that had been going on, he’d given it no more than a fast skim.
Focus, Carter. Pull it up on your internal screen.
Concentrating, he let it scroll through his mind—and as the content began to register, his pulse stuttered.
“The state VFW convention is having a picnic there today. We were notified earlier in the week that extra officers might be needed to deal with the crowd.” He reached deep, calling up as many details as he could remember. “The Mid-America Air Force Band from Scott AFB is performing, and the governor is scheduled to speak. Hundreds of veterans and spouses are attending.”
Nick’s breath hissed out. “That is very bad news.”
A vast understatement.
What better target for an organization that hated America than one comprised of people who’d fought for their country?
Taking the governor out too would be a bonus.
“If Doud wants to make headlines around the world, he’s chosen the perfect venue.”
“Yeah.” Nick exhaled. “This isn’t just a random act of terrorism.”
No, it wasn’t. It was a well-thought-out strategy, designed to send a powerful message of hatred to America by killing scores of her staunchest defenders.
“I agree.” Luke flexed his fingers on the steering wheel to restore circulation to his bloodless knuckles.
“We’re going to need some additional personnel to handle this.”
“I’ll call County and get mass casualty teams on alert and coordinated with dispatch. I’ll also talk to my boss and have him ask Patrol to send officers down here for traffic control around the perimeter of the park.”
“That works. Stand by while I connect with the park and get some details on the location of the event and ranger personnel on-site.” The line went dead.
Luke zoomed up the ramp to Telegraph, hung a left, and accelerated north as he made his calls—including one he hadn’t mentioned to Nick.
Hopefully Sarge would cut through the red tape and get him the gear he’d requested.
The banquet center registered as he zipped by, but the retirement party on the marquee that was scheduled for this afternoon was small potatoes compared to a gathering of military veterans.
Unless they were way off base in their assumptions, Doud was closing in on his target.
He spotted Nick’s car a few vehicles ahead as his cell rang again.
“The event’s at the outdoor amphitheater. Most of the veterans were bussed in from the convention hotel, but the locals attending filled the lot. That will work to our advantage. After we enter, leave your car on the side of the road and ride with me. I can give you an earpiece that will help with communication.”
“Got it. Has the governor arrived?”
“No. We’re diverting him.”
One piece of positive news, anyway.
As they ended the call, he pressed on the gas, hugging Nick’s bumper.
And praying harder than he’d prayed since the hours he’d spent in the emergency room three years ago, waiting for the doctor to come out and talk to him about Jenny.
That day, he’d known even before the solemn-faced physician approached him that he’d lost his wife.
Now he could lose Kristin too.
The harsh reality slammed into him with the same breath-stealing impact as the blow to the solar plexus that had sidelined him once during a soccer game in high school. The inability to catch his breath was as potent and terrifying now as the day he’d lain on the field struggling to suck air into his lungs.
Clinging to the wheel, he tried to follow the instructions the coach had given him two decades ago.
Stay calm. This will pass.
Didn’t work.
Because this might not pass. He and Kristin might never have a chance to explore the future he’d been convinced lay ahead for them.
Fighting for air, he looked toward the heavens.
God, please! Don’t let her die! Please!
The desperate plea bubbled up from the depths of his soul.
Yet even as he sent it hurtling to the cloudless sky, he knew it would take a miracle to save the woman who’d stolen his heart.
Jefferson Barracks?
Kristin stared at the small road sign as Ryan flipped on his turn signal.
Why would he pick a location like this for a suicide bombing?
But as soon as they swung into the park, the large electronic sign at the entrance gave her the answer.
Welcome Missouri Veterans
Follow the arrows to the state VFW convention picnic.
Ryan was going to detonate the bomb in a park filled with American heroes who’d fought the country’s enemies in numerous wars?
A wave of horror rolled through her.
No.
No!
Stomach churning, she swallowed past the bile rising in her throat.
Waiting had been a mistake.
Yet when could she have made her move? Detonating the vest on I-44 or I-270 would have killed scores in the heavy Friday afternoon traffic. Every car around them had been filled with innocent men, women, and children.
Still . . . there would be many more casualties here. Hundreds of people might be in attendance.
Hysteria threatened to shut down her brain—but a firm inner voice yanked her back from the brink.
Stop it, Kristin! Pull yourself together. It’s too late for regrets or second thoughts. Work with what you have. Do the best you can to save as many lives as possible and steal this victory from Ryan.
Gritting her teeth, she straightened her shoulders.
Okay.
She could hold it together long enough to do this.
Maintaining her grip on the dash, she scanned t
he park. There was too much activity near the entrance, too many cars coming and going. The best place to detonate might be the parking area. If the picnic was already in progress, there should be few people wandering around.
And the lot had to be close.
Meaning the clock on this drama was ticking down to the end.
A bead of sweat trickled past her temple, and she swiped it away. Strange to be perspiring when she felt cold and clammy.
Stranger still to know her life would end in a handful of minutes.
If ever there was a time to pray, this was it.
She bowed her head and closed her eyes as Ryan guided the car down the narrow road, following the arrows.
“Talking to your God?” Derision scored his question.
Kristin ignored him.
“You Christians are a curse on the world.” He spat out the condemnation, his hatred almost palpable. “As is America.”
She remained silent. Trying to convince a fanatic to change course was futile, especially at this late stage. She’d rather devote her final few minutes to prayer.
And as the car rolled toward the parking lot . . . as she centered her thoughts on God . . . her fear gave way to steely resolve and an almost out-of-body calmness.
Only one regret shadowed her heart.
The tomorrows she’d envisioned with Luke that would never be.
Inside the park boundary, Luke jammed on the parking brake in his Taurus. After pulling a pair of binoculars from his glove compartment, he sprinted to Nick’s car and slid into the passenger seat.
“Here’s your coms.” The agent handed him the earpiece.
He fitted it into place, pocketed the power pack, and clipped the mic on his collar as Nick peeled off the shoulder and sped down the road.
Half a minute later, the agent ignored the arrows for the picnic that pointed straight and hung a right on Grant.
“Why this route?”
“Grant parallels the road to the amphitheater and the parking lot. I was patched through to the ranger in charge at the scene. He said the road is hidden from view by a small hill—making it an excellent staging area.”
“Does he know what’s going on?”
“Yes. We need someone already inside the park to help pull this off. He’s going to intercept Doud at the entrance to the lot and instruct him to continue onto the adjacent service road at the far end and park on the grass.”
“Won’t Doud get suspicious about the diversion?”
“He shouldn’t. The ranger says the lot is full of cars and buses. I also asked him to keep Doud talking as long as possible.”
Luke flipped on the power pack for the communications gear. “Does he know we’re dealing with a suicide bomber?”
“Yes.”
“What if he gets nervous? Clues Doud in?”
“I think he can handle the assignment. He’s a former Green Beret and longtime park employee. Besides, we have no choice. He’s here, he’s in uniform, and there’s no time to get one of our own people into position.”
Hard to argue with that logic—even if the setup left a lot to be desired.
“Where’s your sniper?”
“He and his spotter passed us on the approach road. They’re going to park in our staging area and find a position with a good line of sight. There’s a copse of trees at the fringe of the blast zone that should give them reasonable cover.”
“So the plan is to take Doud out after he parks and leaves his car.”
“Yes.”
“What’s the backup plan if your sniper can’t get a clear shot at him?”
A tic in Nick’s cheek confirmed Luke’s suspicion even before the agent spoke. “We have an armed bomb technician suiting up as we speak. He’ll approach from the other side of the parking lot once Doud drives onto the grass. If Brett can’t pull this off . . . the agent will move in. Doud can’t protect his back from every direction.”
“He’ll detonate as soon as he spots him.”
“I know.” He glanced over. “We have agents preparing to herd the crowd back the second Doud drives past the open area where the amphitheater is located. But moving a group that size with a high percentage of people who are older or disabled isn’t going to happen fast. We have to minimize the loss of life.”
Luke understood that.
As incident commander, he’d make the same difficult call.
But it punched a gaping hole in his gut.
“So we need to . . .” His words rasped, and he cleared his throat. “We need to deal with Doud as soon as he gets out of the car—as far from the amphitheater as possible.”
“Yes. Some of the crowd may still be in range of projectiles from the explosion, but it’s the best we can do.” He executed a U-turn and pulled onto the shoulder of the road, behind another car.
Luke surveyed the empty vehicle. “Your sniper’s?”
“Yes.”
Luke’s earpiece crackled to life. “Brett here. In position. Excellent line of sight to target area. Over.”
Nick spoke into the mic clipped to his collar. “Copy that. Expect the subject to arrive momentarily.”
“Doud will be parking on the other side of those trees?” Luke motioned toward the brushy, wooded area topping the rise beside them.
“Yes. From the crest of that hill, there’s a long, gentle slope down to the service road where the ranger will direct Doud.” Nick retrieved his own binoculars from the back seat. “You ready to do this?”
No.
Not even close.
The mere thought of seeing Kristin strapped into a suicide vest turned his stomach.
Nor did he want to stand by and watch while a terrorist played with a detonation button.
Or witness the carnage if the sniper missed or couldn’t get a shot and this went south.
But he couldn’t wait on the sidelines, either.
“Yeah.” He opened his door.
When Nick touched his arm, he paused. “Remember we’re borderline close if the bomb detonates—and the projectiles are like bullets.”
“I know exactly what we’re up against. That’s what big trees are for.”
“Agreed. So let’s use them. And we’re only going close enough to get a view of what’s happening. Seeing detail is what these are for.” He lifted the binoculars.
Luke locked gazes with the man. “I don’t take chances that have no reasonable expectation of producing results.”
After a moment, Nick dipped his head. “Are those anti-reflection equipped?”
“Yes.” Glint and glare from optical surfaces could be deadly—the very reason he supplied his own binocs.
“Okay. Let’s go.”
They set off at a jog for the thick cluster of large trees and bushy shrubs that would offer them a view to the adjacent service road—and a modicum of protection from flying projectiles if any happened to travel that far.
Somewhere among those trees, Brett was also hidden—ready to take out a terrorist.
And as they crested the hill and the narrow road came into view . . . as he and Nick tucked themselves behind two large oaks . . . he prayed the sniper got his chance before it was too late—and that his aim was true.
31
The amphitheater was packed.
As Doud drove past the gently sloping terrain that led down to the stage, Kristin’s stomach lurched. Hundreds of people were gathered around the raised platform in the distance, swaying to the big band sound of “In the Mood” being played by an orchestra of uniformed servicemen and women.
In a handful of minutes, Ryan planned to wade into the midst of the festive group and sow destruction.
But she wasn’t going to let him.
Pulse accelerating, she curled her fingers into tight fists as he continued past the crowd, toward the adjacent parking lot.
As far as she could tell, it contained only vehicles. No people.
The perfect place to implement her plan.
A ranger stepped out from t
he side of the road as they approached and lifted a hand.
The car slowed, and Ryan dropped his hand to his lap. Wrapped his fingers around the button.
Her heart stuttered.
If this ranger caused them any trouble, Ryan might not wait to plunge into the crowd to detonate the bomb. Despite her skimpy knowledge of explosives, she’d read enough suicide-bombing news stories to know that such a blast had a wide radius.
And many of the people in the amphitheater were within the danger zone.
Ryan braked and lowered his window halfway.
“Afternoon, folks.” The ranger leaned down and smiled into the car. “You here for the VFW event?”
“Yes.”
Despite Ryan’s terse response, the man’s genial demeanor didn’t waver. “It’s quite a party. And you’re getting here at the perfect time. The band just started playing. We had a big backup trying to get into the park about an hour ago, but you missed all that.”
Ryan’s leg began to jiggle. “So where do we park?”
“Well, that’s the one downside to arriving a little late. The lot’s pretty full. Those buses took up more space than we expected.” He waved toward the six motor coaches that filled the whole first row.
“We can squeeze in somewhere.”
“There are only two more rows, and they’re mostly full except for a few spots we’re saving for handicapped people. With a group like this, we have quite a few of those. If you folks don’t mind a short walk, we’re asking able-bodied visitors to pull down the service road and park on the grass alongside.” He motioned to a small road that veered off the parking lot on the far end.
A few cars were scattered on the grass—and that location was even farther from the crowd.
Better.
With every yard they put between themselves and the open expanse in front of the amphitheater, fewer people would be affected by the explosion.
“Fine. We’ll park down there.” Ryan started to close the window.
“One other thing.” The chatty ranger’s amiable smile held despite the abrupt response.
A muscle twitched in Ryan’s cheek, and Kristin held her breath until he lowered the window again. “Yes?”
“A tip for when you leave. Instead of coming back this way, continue on the service road. It will hook you up to the street that leads to that picnic shelter.” He pointed out the pavilion at the end of the road, on a small height. “That will take you to Grant, which will get you out of the park. You’ll have much less congestion going that way. It’s no fun to fight traffic at the end of an enjoyable evening.”
