by Cat Connor
“Thanks, I think,” Claude replied, wiping residual iodine spray off his face.
“Let’s go,” Kurt said.
I took a breath and climbed over the rubble following Kurt and Claude into the dusty, smoke-filled interior toward the sound of choking and tears.
Seventeen
Into The Daylight
I slid down the wall of a building on 10th Street, across the road from the J Edgar Hoover Building and drew up my knees. My heart raced, nausea came and went. It took vast amounts of effort to control my breathing and bring everything around me back into focus. My phone was in a death grip in my filthy hands. I saw Mitch’s picture on the screen, below it a green call button. I touched the call button and waited. Breathing and counting.
“Talk to me for a few minutes?” My voice steady enough to speak when he answered.
“Of course. You okay?”
“No, yes, maybe.”
Breathe.
“El?”
“I will be.”
Mitch started talking and I breathed. “Today I worked from home. Your home. It was nice being among your things. Comforting.”
Everything slowed down as I listened to Mitch’s voice. I loved his voice.
“I’m cooking us dinner. Roast chicken. Stuffed it too. Homemade stuffing. Nice bottle of Pinot Gris chilling. Ellie, you doing okay?”
“I’m doing better. Keep talking.”
Mitch talked. I listened to his words, letting them take over my being and settle the crazy in my mind. “Mom rang. She was worried when she couldn’t reach me at my desk today. I switched the news on about two this afternoon. Thank you for insisting I go home. You were right. Is this what this is about?”
“Newseum at one fifty-three this afternoon, and …” I checked my watch. “Five minutes ago a large chunk of the Hoover Building landed on Pennsylvania killing a woman as she walked by.”
“Are you safe?” Mitch asked.
“Yes,” I replied, crossing my fingers. I had no idea. But I hoped so. “I’m trying to figure out how two of those women were at the Newseum and near the Hoover Building today as Voxer indicated when they messaged me this afternoon. Our bugs say they were still in Fair Oaks Mall. They said they were in Fair Oaks mall when I spoke to them and that was confirmed by my surveillance team.”
What the hell? It made zero sense.
I took a shaky breath. Then another and another. Just keep breathing. Don’t think. Just be. The answers will come.
“Are you alone?”
I looked around. “Yeah, I am.” I had no idea where everyone was. “I should go find Kurt and Claude and the rest of the Delta teams.”
“Come home, El?”
“Soon. I’ll find Kurt first and I have to meet with a Secret Service agent this afternoon.” I looked over at our building. Chaos. Utter chaos. “I gotta go.”
I ended the call. The bedlam in front of me was an all-too-familiar scene now. My mind sifted images and compartmentalized everything. To survive the day, I needed to mentally step back. I couldn’t be emotionally tied to anything I witnessed.
Sitting on the cold ground with a solid building against my back didn’t feel as soothing as it once would have done. Getting back to a place where D.C. felt safe would not be easy. Someone broke my city and it would take time to fix it.
Deep breaths. Calming thoughts.
Mitch’s voice in my head.
With some distance achieved, I scanned the area. Looking for anyone familiar, maybe someone I’d seen at the earlier bombing or maybe at the Navy Yard. Someone like Agent Troy.
I doubted whoever was responsible had left. The person may even be helping. I remembered what Chance said about firefighters lighting fires.
Where was Troy?
If he was intent on being a hero and this was his handiwork, then surely he should’ve stumbled upon the bomb and played the hero? Three bombings in twenty-four hours. That’s some serious shit.
There were people everywhere. It was hard to see individuals and focus on faces. My phone rang. I looked at the screen: Iain Campbell.
“I have the drone airborne. I can see you. You okay?” Iain said.
“Yeah. What else can you see?”
“Having to fly low, lot of smoke and particles in the air, scanning the crowd, checking out bystanders.”
Bystanders. Rubberneckers. The worse the incident, the bigger the crowd. People have a perverse need to view the unfathomable.
I looked up and spotted the drone hovering in the sky at the corner of the building I leaned on. I waved.
“Do your best, Iain. If you get eyes on Troy, let me know. He’s been missing all day.”
“Where do you want me to download the feed?”
Good question. Not my office.
“You got my home number?”
“Yes.”
“Call home, talk to Mitch. Send the feed directly to my PC.”
“Good thinking.”
“Hey, does that drone of yours deliver food?”
“A picture of food maybe … hungry?”
“Yeah, for a poppy seed bagel with cream cheese and smoked salmon.”
Iain laughed. “Carnage will do that to a person. I’ve got Mitch on the other line. Talk soon.”
I didn’t move. That confused me. Why wasn’t I standing up and looking for Kurt and Sandra? Why wasn’t I coming up with avenues of investigation? Because I didn’t know where to start. And then I remembered the C4 inside the Beretta that I found in our bullpen once. The only way to get explosives into our building was if the person was supposed to be there and/or carrying something that could conceal the explosive. Not a backpack and not a briefcase, not unless they were supposed to be there. That thought swirled, making me feel sick. I could walk in carrying Semtex without anyone blinking, especially in an evidence bag or in a box with other evidence or even in my shoulder bag. Hell, I could just carry a couple of pounds of the orange shit in my hand.
Would anyone challenge Troy?
No. He was an agent. Mentored by me.
Holy enabling Batman.
I was on my feet and running toward the entrance we usually used on 10th. If it was someone, anyone, who was comfortable in the building, why blow out one section only? To focus attention away from something? No one stopped me as I ran through the doors and up the stairs. Running without thought, I felt I knew something I didn’t or couldn’t know and had no explanation.
I swung open a smoke-stop door and stood in the quiet of the corridor that led to my office. Quiet? It wasn’t quiet. From deep within the walls that surrounded the Delta team bullpen, I heard the tapping of a keyboard. No one should be here. I took my phone from my pocket and switched it to silent.
My hand tightened on the grip of my Glock and I released it from my holster. Gun in hand, I approached the bullpen. There was a sudden draft. I glanced over my shoulder as the stairwell door slowly closed. Kurt walked toward me. I signaled him to be quiet and pointed to the bullpen. He fell in behind me.
Ten feet.
Breathe.
At the doorway, Kurt’s hand squeezed my shoulder twice, indicating he was ready to move. I was right. He was left. I tapped his hand and stepped through the doorway focusing on the right side of the room, checking for hazards. Clear.
From a secure position, I faced the interior of the room. Kurt had his weapon trained on Troy.
Our missing agent.
What a surprise.
I walked toward them. “You want to explain why you’re in an evacuated building?” I asked, as Kurt stood Troy up and took his weapon.
“I was trying to find a link between the bombings,” he replied. I detected a tremor in his voice. Not so sure of himself then?
“How’s that working for you?”
“The only link is the women.”
“The three women. Well, let’s bring them in then,” I said. “Do you know where they are?”
He said nothing. Kurt repeated my question.
&nb
sp; Troy shook his head.
“Walk,” Kurt said, giving him gentle encouragement toward the nearest wall. “Assume the position.” Kurt patted him down and removed two flash drives from his suit jacket pocket. “Catch.” He threw them to me one at a time.
“What will I find on these?” I asked Troy.
“My notes,” he replied.
Two flash drives. I looked at them carefully. Two eight-gig flash drives: seemed like he required a lot of storage for his notes. Maybe he expected to be using them for a long time.
“Let’s have a look shall we? My office.”
I let Kurt take Troy and lead the way. I paused by the computer he’d been using and read the screen. He had the Operation Visitor case file open. I checked to see what pages he’d looked at and if he’d added notes. He had. He’d surmised that the only link between the bombings was the three tourists from New Zealand based on not much. I scrolled down the screen.
Ah, crap.
He said the women were in the city today and in the vicinity of the Newseum prior to the explosion. Why would he think that? He didn’t know about our electronic surveillance because only Kurt and I could see the feed and in any case, our surveillance program put them firmly in Fairfax County not here in D.C.; Voxer put them here. He didn’t know about Kris and Jerry either.
Where was Troy getting his information?
I took a screen shot of the information and filed it. Then amended the case notes to say I had doubts about the women’s involvement, based on a short interview. It was time to lock Troy out of the case file.
In my office, Troy sat still. His gaze fixed on the wall behind my desk.
“Why do you think the women were in the city today?” I asked as I plugged the first of his flash drives into my laptop. Two seconds later, a box on my screen asked for a password. “Password, Troy?”
“Tourist,” he replied.
A complete copy of the Sentinel case file scrolled down the screen. I shook my head.
“You copied a case file. How fucking stupid are you?” I glared at him over my laptop. “That’s a career ender.”
“I thought I could work on it at home.”
“Never occurred to you to log in remotely and work on it?”
Of course, that would leave a trail. And Sentinel would recognize the remote access and block all attempts at downloading or copying the file and its contents. Safeguards are necessary. People are stupid. So he knew enough not to try remote access but Troy didn’t seem aware that Sentinel logged all changes to case files with the agent’s name and ID. It would’ve logged the download and tagged the file. I’d see it as soon as I logged back in. That information was above his pay grade.
Troy’s mouth set in a firm line. He wasn’t feeling chatty. Shame. Because I was.
“Are there any more bombs in this building?”
He said nothing.
“Troy. If you have any hope of redeeming yourself then you need to talk to me. Now.”
A psychic twinge made me check my phone. The screen was full of missed calls and messages. Dammit. I turned the volume back on. Three of the calls were from Campbell.
“I need to make a call,” I said to Kurt. “I’ll be in the hall.”
I closed the door, leaned on the wall and called Campbell.
“You wanted me?”
“You all right? You took off in a big hurry. Thermal imaging suggested a person in your bullpen and I saw you run into the building.”
“You sent Kurt?”
“Yes. You’re welcome.”
“We found Troy in the bullpen downloading files.”
“Idiot.”
“Yep.”
“Let me know if you need anything. It’s still crazy out here.”
“Thanks, Iain.”
I checked the text messages next. One long one from Mitch. I replied to tell him I was fine and I’d be home when I could get there. Caine’s messages weren’t such easy replies. I ignored them. I had no answers yet. Director O’Hare’s message required a response. I texted her saying Delta was safe. The explosion took out empty offices.
Empty offices.
I pocketed my phone. The next floor down directly under us were conference rooms. I went back into my office and checked the second flash drive. No password this time. It contained video footage. I clicked on the first video. It was one I’d seen before. I clicked the next and the next … I had fourteen videos open and flicked from one to the other. These were the deleted videos.
“Talking would be smart,” I said, looking at Troy.
“I don’t know what’s on that drive,” he said, his voice cracked.
Was it enough to arrest him on suspicion of terrorism? No. he never left the damn building with the flash drives, but he intended to. There was a ledge and I suspected legal would go nuts if I rappelled over it.
How’d they feel about me pushing Troy over the ledge?
“Special Agent Troy, you are required to explain your behavior to SAC Grafton and me at the earliest possible time. You may bring a support person with you.” I opened the Delta calendar and scanned for suitable time and date. “We are not done here but you are. You will be in SAC Grafton’s office next Monday morning at eight. Until then you are stood down.”
He slumped in the chair.
Kurt spoke, “Badge and ID on the desk, now.”
Troy did as he was asked.
I entered data onto Sentinel, updating Troy’s agent status. He would no longer be able to access the building freely. I marked him “escort required.” If I were proven wrong, I’d apologize. I hoped I was wrong, even though his behavior did nothing for my trust issues.
Smoke.
I glanced at Kurt. A fine haze filled the room. It smelled like death. That was wrong. We weren’t anywhere near the explosion site.
Kurt’s eyes met mine he started to speak, his words lost in a roar. Everything moved. My desk tilted and my chair tried to roll into the wall behind me with me on it. I fought to stay within arm’s reach of my desk. I pocketed the flash drives, shut my laptop and jammed it into the case that sat next to my desk.
“Leave it,” Kurt said.
“No.” I took the case with me.
The three of us made it to the hallway. I turned to see the wall behind my desk collapse. My chair flew into the air. My office disintegrated.
Shit.
We ran for the stairs. At the first landing, I wondered how far we would get before there were no stairs. Two floors down smoke rose from below. I pulled open a smoke-stop door and stepped out of the stairwell followed by Kurt and Troy. Another massive rumble shook the building. I lurched into a wall. Something hit me from behind. Glass in the door we’d come through smashed all over the hallway. I switched hands with my laptop case. Troy fell. Kurt helped him to his feet. Smoke billowed into the corridor. We moved fast in the opposite direction, heading for another set of stairs. It seemed to take forever to get out. Emergency services were all over the ground, high-vis everything in all directions.
“Stick with us,” Kurt said to Troy. He had his hand on Troy’s arm. “I mean it.”
“Yes, sir.”
I stood on the corner by the Hard Rock Café and surveyed the confusion in front of me. My eyes and brain tried to make sense of the destruction.
“That’s the painting that was on my wall,” I said pointing at something that spilled from the masonry before more wreckage covered it. “That was a close thing.”
“Too close,” Kurt replied. His hand touched my shoulder blade. It twinged a bit. “You’ve got a piece of something sticking out of your back. Should’ve left our vests on. Just your luck, Conway.”
“Crap. Can we just leave it and let it work its way out?” I knew that wasn’t going to happen. But it was worth a try.
“Turn a little toward my hand,” he said, touching my right shoulder.
I did.
“What is it?”
“Wood. Probably a piece of door.”
“Ba
d?”
“Don’t think so … I need to get in there and have a look.”
There were people everywhere. I didn’t really feel like taking off my jacket and top. There was no triage tent yet but I could see medical personnel, so I knew there would be soon.
“Into the Hard Rock, they have enough room in the bathrooms. I’ve got my gear,” Kurt said.
Yay. But he was right about the large bathrooms. Kurt told Troy he was coming with us. That didn’t impress me much.
“You are staying outside the bathroom door. Do I have to handcuff you to something?” I said as we went into the Café.
Kurt spoke to a staff member.
“You don’t,” Troy said. “I’ll wait.”
“Good that your brain finally kicked in,” I replied.
We followed Kurt up the stairs and to the women’s bathroom. It was empty. Troy stood outside.
Kurt opened his backpack and I stopped watching. I knew what he was going to do and it didn’t thrill me.
“You’ll need my help to get your jacket and shirt off. You ready?”
“Sure. Just do it.”
I felt the thing in my back move when Kurt lifted the fabric from my jacket out a little. He cut the hole bigger. I took one arm out of my jacket, Kurt lifted the fabric off the wood, and then I took out the other arm. The jacket ended up on the floor.
“Same again but with your shirt. Undo the buttons first.”
That bit was easy enough. Kurt pulled the fabric away from the wood and cut, then eased out my arm and lifted the fabric off the wood. My shirt landed on top of my jacket.
“We good now?” I asked.
“Yep. It looks like a smooth piece of wood, so I’m not expecting splinters but I need to get in there and look. This is going to hurt.”
“Thanks for the warning.”
“Let’s sit you down.” I sat on the floor. Cold from the tiles seeped into my jeans. I shivered.
“Not ideal, Conway, but we can do this. You ready?”
“Yes.”
No, not at all.
He sprayed something cold on my back. Iodine. I sat up straighter as the wood moved from side-to-side.
Jeez. He wasn’t kidding about it hurting.
