Edge of Danger (Edge Security Series Book 3)

by Loye, Trish

  His lips twisted. “Just the name of someone from my past.” He shook his head. “It’s a common enough name.”

  One more question about the enigmatic Zach Grayson. She put it away to deal with later.

  “Maybe the rest of the papers belong to this E person,” Alyssa said.

  Zach nodded and kept sorting through the envelope’s contents, so she went back to the video surveillance, fast forwarding through it.

  “I found something,” she said a few minutes later.

  He came around the desk to see her monitor.

  “Look at the time stamp,” she said. “Two a.m. The trains are only coming every half hour.”

  On the video, the platform was deserted until two people walked into the camera’s view—Rob and a slightly shorter, leaner person in a hoodie and jeans. Rob leaned on the guy in the hoodie. They stopped near the edge. Hoodie guy looked around before pushing Rob off the platform and onto the track.

  He stared at Rob—or maybe he was speaking, his back was to the camera so Alyssa couldn’t be sure. Then he left, taking the far stairs without ever showing his face to the camera.

  “Dammit,” she said. “Why did he do that? It wasn’t a robbery.”

  “Zach. Al,” Riley called from across the room. He waved urgently at them. “We’ve got something.”

  Both she and Zach jumped up and followed Riley. Alyssa would go back to Rob’s murder when she had time. For now, the priority had to be finding Al Shabah.

  In the Global Intelligence room, on the main screen, a man swathed in black with sunglasses spoke Arabic.

  “Al Shabah has bombed the center of all evil. He has killed evil Americans and soldiers in New York. We hail the work of Al Shabah as righteous…”

  The man continued to speak, but Alyssa tuned him out.

  “Where’s this originating from?”

  Riley sighed. “Already checked. The video has been spread all over the net and it’s hard to find the origin, but because of background noise and the man’s accent, we believe it’s from Northern Iraq.”

  “So confirmation that the bombing this morning was Al Shabah,” Zach said.

  “Looks that way,” Riley said.

  “But wait,” Alyssa said. “He said Americans and soldiers were killed.”

  Zach looked at her. “Only the bomber.”

  “And while he was a vet, I’m not sure that’s what he was talking about. So, most likely the coffee shop wasn’t the end target of the bomb and Al Shabah hasn’t connected with his contacts about his failed attempt.”

  She whirled to Drew, who sat with headphones on. “Keep monitoring all black-net traffic. Al Shabah will want to make contact with his people.”

  She looked at Zach. “Now we need to figure out what his real target was.”

  * * *

  Zach spent the rest of the day tracking Tony Merchant’s last movements and trying not to think about Alyssa Harrison. He widened his search area and honed in on something.

  “Alyssa,” he called across the GI room to her work station. She’d taken a desk far from his this afternoon. So much for being partners. She stared steadily at her screen, ignoring him.

  “I’ve got something,” he said.

  Both Riley and Drew looked up. Even Masters walked over. “What is it?” he asked.

  “The VA hospital on East 23rd Street. Merchant had an appointment there that morning. Right about the time the bomb blew.”

  “How’d you figure that out?” Masters asked.

  “From his file that we got from the shelter,” Zach said.

  “He was going to blow up a VA hospital?” Alyssa asked. At least she’d finally come over to join them.

  “Looks like it,” he said. “Thank god, he hardly ever showed up for his appointments.”

  “So that proves he was a mule,” Alyssa said. “A hospital for veterans is just Al Shabah’s style.”

  Agent Masters crossed his arms. “But how did Al Shabah contact him?”

  “Still working on that,” Zach said.

  “We need that answer,” Masters said and strode off.

  Alyssa left without even looking at him. She’d been avoiding him all day. It had been obvious this morning that she regretted last night. And that pissed him off. More than he expected.

  He didn’t show it, though. He knew nothing would make her run faster than to show how much he cared what she thought.

  He needed space from her.

  He looked up a local locksmith and placed a call he should have made yesterday. Then he went to find Marc.

  The CSIS agent was at a desk in the main area. He looked up when Zach approached.

  “What are you doing?” Zach asked.

  “Going over personnel records,” he said.

  “Can you follow Alyssa home?”

  Marc’s eyebrows raised. “Yes. Why?”

  “I need to make sure she’s safe. Her apartment was busted into two nights ago.”

  “I assume they haven’t caught the guy?”

  Zach sighed. “No.”

  “You know she can take care of herself,” Marc said. “She seems almost as capable as Valkyrie.” Marc referenced one of the female members on their team, a former special operations soldier and one of the toughest women Zach had ever met.

  “Just do it,” Zach said.

  “One last question.”

  Zach pinched the bridge of his nose. “What?”

  Marc studied him. “Why aren’t you doing it?”

  “I don’t have time.”

  “None of us do,” Marc said with a frown. He watched Zach’s face for a moment. “Oh shit, Doc. She’s Jake’s sister. Did you sleep with her?” Then he held up his hands. “No. Don’t answer that. I’m already guilty by association.”

  “She…” Zach began. “We…” He shook his head. “It’s none of your fucking business.”

  “Really?” Marc stretched the word out.

  “Really,” he said. “Now don’t let her out of your sight.”

  “All night?”

  Zach wanted to say yes, but Marc was right—she could take care of herself. “If her door’s fixed, just make sure she gets inside.”

  “Sure you don’t want to see her home yourself?”

  Of course he wanted to do it himself…and stay all night with her besides. But he needed distance. She’d already gotten too far under his skin. “I’m sure,” he said. “Besides, having me around is the last thing Alyssa Harrison wants. Just make sure she doesn’t see you.”

  “Wilco,” Marc said.

  14

  Zach entered the Global Intelligence room at six in the morning. He’d had a shitty night’s sleep and decided to forgo his run in order to get into work early.

  The room only held a skeleton crew, but Drew sat among them. Alyssa wasn’t in yet, but he knew she’d be there soon. Marc had called last night reporting Alyssa safe at home with a new door locked tight against intruders.

  Zach began skimming through more video files of terrorists. Anything he could, to see if he could track down any clue as to who Al Shabah was and how he was connected to Qatil Atfaal.

  To him.

  He briefly considered telling Masters the truth-that the man Al Shabah spoke of in the videos, this mysterious ‘child killer’ was actually Zach himself. Visions of being stuck in interrogation for the rest of the investigation stopped him. He would come clean eventually, but not until it wouldn’t endanger the hunt for Al Shabah.

  “Shit,” Zach said. He needed to get E.D.G.E. working on this angle. Not that the NYPD wasn’t great, but his team had way more experience tracking terrorists. And they could help him follow any leads without wasting time thinking Zach was the enemy.

  “Zach?” Drew called from the other side of the room. “We’ve got another message.”

  Zach went to his monitor, where Drew played a video for him.

  It was the same black-swathed man from the last video—Zach could tell from the way the man stood with his hands in
front of him.

  “Qatil Atfaal, this next act of retribution is not just for the citizens of America, but for you. I will take the one you care for, just like you took the one I treasured most in the world.”

  Drew looked at him when the message was done. “What does he mean?”

  “He’s after someone in particular.” Zach’s thoughts unwillingly jumped to Alyssa.

  “We’ve got to find this Qatil Atfaal,” Drew said.

  But Zach wasn’t listening. He picked up the phone and dialed Alyssa’s number. “Pick up,” he whispered.

  * * *

  At five-thirty the next morning, Alyssa rubbed her gritty eyes. She’d spent another late night going through any security footage in the area around the bombed coffee shop before she finally came home. They still weren’t any closer to tracking down Al Shabah’s whereabouts or his target, so they’d all agreed a few hours’ downtime was in order. Though she suspected Zach had stayed behind to keep working.

  Their demolitions expert had confirmed the cafe bomb had been on a timer. Obviously Al Shabah hadn’t taken into account the carrier’s need for coffee, or that he would skip his appointment at the hospital. It also indicated that Merchant hadn’t known he was a suicide bomber or what the mission was. So Merchant probably wasn’t close to Al Shabah, which only widened the circle of potential suspects.

  She showered and dressed quickly. After a quick glance down Rob’s alley, she walked past Lattes and More without going in. Poor Rob. She would find his killer when this was over. But right now she needed to focus on Al Shabah.

  She trotted down the steps and into the subway station on Central Park West. She slid her metro card and strode through the turnstile and down more steps to her platform. A blonde woman wearing a red hoodie and black tights followed her, her eyes glued to her phone. She looked vaguely familiar. Probably lived in the area and was on her way to one of those expensive hot yoga places where Zen Ponytail Guys droned on.

  It wasn’t excessively crowded on the platform at six-fifteen, but there were enough people to make Alyssa grumpy without her latte. She should have stopped for one. She’d obviously caught the banking and stocks crowd. All wore some version of the same dark suit; some of the women wore sneakers and carried purses large enough to hold their heels. Personally, Alyssa hated how imbalanced she felt in heels. She did have a pair to wear on formal occasions, otherwise give her boots or sneakers.

  Alyssa snorted at the direction of her thoughts. She needed a coffee before she hit work; her mind was drifting all over the place.

  Her cell buzzed.

  “Harrison,” she answered. Midway down the platform, a grizzled homeless man slept by a sign. They weren’t supposed to do that. The transit cops usually moved them along.

  “Alyssa, where are you?” Zach demanded.

  “Good morning to you too,” she said as she moved closer to make sure the old man really was sleeping. She didn’t need another dead body right now.

  “Where. Are. You?”

  The old man’s eyes opened and he rubbed his head, pushing his lank gray hair back so it stood on end.

  “I’m at the subway stop on the Upper West Side.” He was probably nursing a hangover. “What’s with the third deg—”

  “There’s been another message. I think you might be in danger.”

  The man sat up and his trench coat fell open.

  Shock made her stop as ice flooded her veins.

  “Alyssa?” Zach’s voice sounded distant in her ears.

  “He’s wearing a bomb,” she whispered.

  The man frowned and looked down at what Alyssa had seen. A black vest was strapped to his chest, covered in black plastic cylinders and wires. A digital timer on the front counted down. Just over eleven minutes.

  Zach shouted something, but she couldn’t hear him over the buzzing in her ears. She stood frozen, staring at the homeless man who looked up at her, a frown on his face.

  “What is this?” he asked.

  She tried to speak, but the words got caught as her throat squeezed shut. She tried to breathe slowly and deeply. Dr. Martinez had said at moments like this, she needed to control her body and focus on the here and now.

  She couldn’t let herself go. They could all die if she did.

  Instead of Dr. Martinez’s voice in her head, she heard Zach’s. “Focus on your senses. What do you see?”

  “Five cylinders duct-taped to a vest wrapped around the chest of a homeless guy,” she said without thinking. “He looks confused.”

  “What do you smell?”

  She took a deep breath, focusing only on that sense, shutting down all other thoughts.

  “Coffee and cologne.” From the suits. “Body odor.” From the homeless man in front of her.

  “Good, Alyssa,” Zach said. “Good. Are you still with me?”

  She clutched the phone harder, trying to keep her thoughts from scattering again. “I’m here,” she said quietly.

  “I need you to evacuate everyone. Keep the man calm,” Zach said.

  “Right.” Focus, Alyssa.

  She gestured to the man. “Cover your chest please, sir.”

  “What is this?” His voice rose as he spoke. “What’s happening?”

  She turned her back to the man, even though her skin crawled with the need to see what he was doing. She pulled her badge and raised her voice. “This terminal is closed. I need everyone to leave immediately in an orderly fashion.”

  The woman in the red hoodie stood on the stairs and looked up from her phone. People around Alyssa immediately started grumbling. One young businessman, his hair clipped almost militarily short, stepped in front of her. “Why? The trains are running down here. I’ve got a meeting in thirty minutes.”

  “Sir, I need everyone to evacuate. The terminal is closed.”

  She could feel sweat trickle down her back. Zach’s voice was speaking from the phone, but she couldn’t listen to him right now.

  “But why?” the businessman said, crossing his arms over his chest.

  Her knees shook and she locked them. Her chest felt tight like she couldn’t get enough air. What had he asked?

  “Are you okay?” the businessman asked. “You don’t look too good.”

  Get a grip, Harrison!

  “Everyone evacuate now,” she yelled, giving the businessman the tiniest push. “There… There’s a gas leak.”

  More people gathered around the businessman as if he was their leader. An older woman, her dark hair styled impeccably, sniffed the air. “I don’t smell anything.”

  What was wrong with these people? She wiped sweat from her forehead. She needed to breathe. Why were they all crowding around her?

  The businessman frowned. “Why aren’t the gas company people down here?”

  “Sir, move now,” she snapped, “or I’ll arrest you for interfering with a police officer.”

  Zach’s voice yelled something from the phone.

  “You can’t do th—” His gaze caught on something behind her. “Holy shit! Is he wearing a bomb?”

  His words got everyone’s attention.

  The homeless man hadn’t closed his trench coat. She could see a digital timer on it. Less than eight minutes. He stood.

  “Sir! Don’t move!” she yelled at him. He stopped, but everyone else turned as one and ran. Some faster than others, pushing people out of their way. The woman with the stylish hair wobbled on her high heels and fell to her hands and knees. She sobbed with terror.

  “Get this off me!” the homeless man yelled.

  Alyssa grabbed the arm of a teenage boy flying by, his jean jacket flapping. “Help her,” she ordered, pointing at the woman. The teen immediately snagged the woman under her arms and helped her to her feet. He spoke to her and she nodded, kicking off her shoes. They ran out together. The woman in the red hoodie stood on the stairs watching Alyssa like she was waiting for her to come too. Alyssa waved the woman off. She nodded and ran up the stairs after everyone else. Now the
platform was clear but for Alyssa and the man behind her. She faced him.

  “Sir, I need you to calm down. The bomb squad is on their way.”

  They both looked at the timer. Less than seven minutes.

  “Who did this to me? I don’t want to die.” He stepped toward her.

  She couldn’t help it. She moved back and raised her hand palm out.

  His eyes widened. “You think—”

  “Get out of there, Alyssa!” Zach’s voice from the phone finally penetrated. “You aren’t trained.”

  She put the phone back up to her ear. “I see cylinders with wires attached, presumably to the detonators inside. If it’s simple C-4 then I can remove the blasting caps.”

  “No!” Zach’s voice vibrated over the line. “Don’t touch it. If it’s Al Shabah’s work, it would probably blow if you tried to open the cylinders. He’s known for motion sensors, temperature triggers, and resistance sensors. He likes to make them look simple.”

  “Zach. The timer’s at six minutes.”

  The homeless man tore off his trench coat. The vest had been buckled behind him. Wires threaded through the buckles. She described them to Zach while the man got more and more frantic.

  “What’s your name?” she asked him.

  “Craig,” he said. “Craig Douglas. Help me.”

  “Tell him the bomb squad is on the way,” Zach said over the phone, “and get out of there.”

  “The bomb squad is on the way,” she repeated, but her feet didn’t move. Her brain screamed for her to get out.

  “Alyssa, talk to me,” Zach said.

  “Craig, I’m going to see if I can help you get that vest off.”

  “Alyssa, no!”

  “Zach, I’m putting you on speaker.” She placed the phone on the ground while she examined the back of the vest.

  “Someone put this vest on him,” Alyssa said. Her hands trembled as she lightly traced the three large buckles on his back. Black wires wove through the buckle connected to a small plastic box the size of her finger to the first knuckle.

  “Don’t touch those wires,” Zach said after she’d described the boxes.

  “Cut it off!” Craig yelled.