by Scott Gamboe
Then one of Othman's guards whirled about and faced the nearest of Tony's men. "We are betrayed!" His rifle erupted in a spray of automatic weapons fire. In a heartbeat, the barn became a hellish, nightmare world of barking rifles and flying bullets. Men fell screaming. Blood rushed from their bodies as they breathed their last. When silence pervaded once more, Tony clambered to his feet and surveyed the carnage. All of Othman's people were dead. Only one of Tony's men remained alive. Tony beckoned sharply, and the man slid down the ladder to the ground. His trembling hands pointed his rifle at the open barn door. Jim remained silent. The first shot had come from outside the building . . .
Another shot ripped through the night. Tony's last man dropped to his knees, gasping for breath. A second blast knocked him to his back, where he lay in a rapidly spreading pool of blood. It appeared Tony could see something Jim could not, because he slowly raised his hands, his wide eyes fixed on the doorway.
Amit stepped inside, a large-caliber sniper rifle still gripped in his hands. He surveyed the carnage in the barn with a shrug, then leveled the rifle at Tony.
"On your knees."
Tony stood immobile as he stared at the newcomer.
Amit nodded softly. "As you wish." He squeezed the trigger a final time. Tony's head exploded in a mass of blood and gore. The body collapsed upon itself like a house of cards. Amit slowly lowered the rifle.
"Jim. I see you yet live. I feared they would have killed you by now."
"Amit, I can't tell you how glad I am to see you. How did you find me?"
"I heard over a police scanner where you were being held. William freed you before I could, so I followed the two of you. I waited until Othman arrived and I could be certain of the cargo in the briefcases before I made my move."
Amit slung his rifle over one shoulder. But instead of freeing Jim from his bonds, he moved over to the table where the briefcases still sat wide open.
"You never suspected what Tony was selling, did you, Jim? I knew from the beginning. My people had been trying to arrange to buy these for several months, but Othman's organization had more money. They won the bid." He laughed. "Those former KGB agents are so predictable. They'll sell anything for a price."
Amit closed the briefcases but left the locks unsecured. "Othman was a dedicated follower of the true faith, but he was short-sighted. His plan to attack American cities was ambitious, but it lost sight of our true goal: the annihilation of the Jewish infidels."
Jim's jaw dropped. He tried to speak, but he was at a loss for words. Amit gave him a cold smile.
"You're obviously feeling a bit confused, my friend. Why would a Jew, and a member of the Mossad, besides, want to use nukes against his own country? The answer is quite simple, really. I'm not Jewish. And my name is not Amit. It's Karim Abdurrashid ibn Hajar. I penetrated Israeli Intelligence years ago. I've been passing information along to Hezbollah ever since."
Karim picked up the two briefcases. He nodded to Jim as he headed for the door. He stopped just outside the barn, where he set down one briefcase. He reached his free hand into his pocket.
"Tony was right about one thing, though. You can't be allowed to live. You could blow my cover, maybe even stop me from leaving the country with these." His hand emerged from his pocket holding a shiny silver lighter. With a flick of his wrist, a small flame flickered to life. He touched it to the frame of the door, the straw on the ground, anything that would burn. Within moments, several fires leapt toward the roof.
Karim hefted the remaining satchel. "Martyr's Inferno. It has a nice ring to it." He spun on his heel and walked away. The fading sound of his laughter drifted over the crackle of the flames.
CHAPTER 16
The fire spread at an alarming rate, and soon covered over half of the wooden structure. Jim gasped and coughed. He tried to draw a breath but was defeated by the growing pall of smoke. He twisted and pulled against his bonds. The ropes cut into the skin of his wrists. In desperation, he looked around for anything he could grab with his feet, a tool to sever his bonds. He found nothing, not even a shovel, within his limited reach. Despair reached its insidious fingers around his heart, choking him as surely as the killing fumes from the fire. His vision wavered, and his head dropped to his chest.
And then there was a tug at his left wrist. He struggled to raise his head. His eyes somehow focused on Krista. She frantically worked at the knots securing his arms. Before she worked the first knot free, Nick Halliton secured a scythe from the wall. He sawed at the ropes on Jim’s other wrist. Krista released her side first. Jim fell to his knees, jerked slightly sideways by the rope still holding his right arm. Moments later, it too came free. He dropped to all fours.
Krista and Nick lifted him to his feet, one under each arm.
"Wait." Jim nodded his head to where Tony lay sprawled across the blood-soaked straw. "In his pocket. A tracking device for the briefcases."
The FBI agent darted to Tony's side. He went through his pockets and retrieved the black box. As an afterthought, Nick ran to Matt's body and grabbed Jim's pistol. He pulled Jim's arm back around his shoulders. The trio dodged falling debris and staggered through the burning, collapsing barn. They burst through the doorway and into the cool night air. By the time they reached the car, they were all gasping and wheezing.
"We have to hurry." Jim broke off in another fit of coughing. "The briefcases Tony bought were nukes, smuggled out of Russia."
"Nukes?" Nick craned his neck, looking about the field. "Where are they now?"
"Amit took them. He's with Hezbollah. We have to stop him before he leaves the country." Jim recounted what had transpired in the barn.
Nick tossed the GPS tracking device to Jim. He studied the display. "South. It looks like they're heading for Saint Louis."
Nick motioned for them to get into the car. Jim dropped into the backseat with Krista, while Nick jumped behind the wheel and immediately started the engine. Jim pulled Krista tightly against him, content just to hold her as his oxygen-starved lungs pumped in a desperate race for fresh air. His fits of coughing slowly subsided.
He forced his weakened body upright. "Thanks, Nick."
Nick glanced over his shoulder and extended a hand. "Agent Ryan Finley, NSA." Ryan explained the necessary deception over his name. Krista told Jim everything that had happened since he had left the hotel with Amit, or Karim, as he turned out to be. Ryan tugged his phone from his pocket and dialed a number.
After several moments, he ended the call. "There's no one at our office, but I guess I shouldn't be surprised." They raced back into the outskirts of Fairview Heights. Ryan yanked the wheel hard to the right and slammed on the brakes. The car roared down the entrance ramp for Interstate 64 at high speed, sliding sideways across the pavement. They sped away toward Saint Louis.
Ryan dialed another number. “Hello. This is Agent Finley of the NSA. We have a federal emergency. I need you to stop all outbound flights at Lambert until we can get some agents on the scene." An argument ensued, and he finally hung up in frustration. "I figured they wouldn't believe me, but I had to try." He checked his watch and dialed another number.
Ryan's rapid speech betrayed his anxiety while he spoke to his supervisor. Even from the backseat, Jim could hear the woman at the other end shout her rage into the phone. Ryan ended the call and slipped his phone into his pocket.
"Okay, she's calling in the big guns. They'll close the airport, but we still have to find Karim."
"What do you think he'll do in Saint Louis?" Krista asked.
"I know who he is. Not by sight, but his name is well-known to the NSA. He has Hezbollah contacts in the Saint Louis area. He'll want to get out of the country as quickly as possible, and they could make it happen. We just have to get to him before he links up with the sleeper cell."
They raced into the night. Ryan told Jim and Krista that, in all likelihood, Karim would meet his contacts somewhere in the downtown area, most likely near the river. Such a location would allow the group immediate acce
ss to three different interstate highways to facilitate their escape. Ryan merged onto Interstate 55. They crossed the Mississippi River.
The towering landmark of the Saint Louis Gateway Arch loomed over the riverfront, silhouetted against the nighttime skyline. Due to the late hour, the Arch was closed. Its tiny windows were dark against the gray metal framework. Some few revelers still wandered the downtown streets. Most wore red hats or shirts bearing the logo of the Saint Louis Cardinals baseball team. The bars had just closed for the evening, so it would not be long before the streets were deserted.
Jim licked his lips and looked up. "I'm having some trouble with this tracker. I can't seem to get a clean read on it anymore."
Krista leaned closer. "It might be interference at the other end. Proximity to the nukes might be disrupting the signal. Let me see it."
While Krista studied the tracker, Ryan took them past the shadowy confines of a deserted Busch Stadium. They circled the brick structure while Jim scanned the rapidly thinning crowd for their prey. Ryan shook his head, his lips pursed. He turned the wheel hard to the left.
"He wouldn't be in the crowds like this. His people will want to rendezvous in private."
Krista leaned forward and reached past the headrest to point out a new direction. "Turn here. My best guess with the tracker is that he's closer to the river. Let's check the area a few blocks south of Laclede's Landing. The Landing will still be hopping, but the park will be empty."
Jim nodded his agreement. "That's actually a good idea. The park is secluded, but it's very close to the interstate. He can meet his contacts and be on his way to any airport in the country."
Ryan's eyes narrowed. "Airports aren't the only way out of the country. Let's go."
The car rolled slowly northward on War Memorial Drive. Krista and Jim stared silently into the night, searching for any hint of movement. They had passed the Arch when Jim spotted a small light in the darkness.
"Back there, on the other side of the reflecting pool. Looks like someone is smoking a cigarette."
Ryan turned left. Several blocks later, they turned from Broadway onto Spruce, where he guided the car to the curb. "Let's go on foot. Headlights near the park will just give us away."
Jim drew his pistol and pulled the slide back, far enough to see the bullet sitting in the chamber, ready to be fired. "Do you have a weapon for Krista?"
"Sorry. I gave you my only spare that night outside her apartment. I guess I need to buy more guns if we ever work together again."
Jim reached for the car door but hesitated when he heard the sound of a pistol's slide ramming into place. Krista gave him a half-smile and held up a pink Glock pistol. "I can take care of myself, dear."
Jim sat speechless, his mouth half open, his hand frozen in place on the door handle. "Where . . . never mind."
They tucked their pistols into their clothing to avoid drawing attention. Although Ryan could talk their way out of trouble, any commotion would give them away if Karim was hiding in the park. Krista checked the tracking device again, but shook her head. They were on their own.
An antiquated stone building, which Jim assumed was a church, stood in a brightly lit parking lot to their right. They circled the church and slinked through the well-groomed grass of the park, crossing over near the steeply-sloped hillside before turning north. By staying under the trees, the little group was able to avoid being illuminated by the sporadic lighting. They passed the first of the park's two lakes with no one in sight. Ryan gestured to Jim and Krista. He pointed west of the Arch, then at himself and indicated the Arch's east side.
Jim and Krista slipped away from the levee and bypassed the arch to the left while Ryan edged over to the right. They stayed close enough to see each other, but they were able to watch both sides of the mammoth structure for any signs of Karim. North of the Arch, they came together once more.
Krista snapped her fingers as she drew forth her pistol and pointed it toward a stand of bushes ahead and to their right. The three of them waited in the shadows of the trees, predators at hunt.
The wait did not last long. The glow of a cigarette appeared in the darkness. His voice a whisper, Ryan suggested Krista circle to the left, and Jim to the right. Ryan would stay in the middle. That way, he told them, they could avoid the dangers of a deadly crossfire while minimizing Karim's chances of escaping. Jim hated the idea of leaving Krista alone. But he knew it offered their best chance of successfully capturing the terrorist agent and recovering his deadly cargo.
Jim stayed low to minimize his silhouette as he darted through the park from tree to tree. Was Karim the person they stalked? Why would he hide in the dark, only to give himself away with the glow of smoldering tobacco? It made no sense, but there was no more time to worry.
He was in position. He signaled with the backlight illuminator on his watch. Ryan must have already received Krista's signal, because the rapid blinking of Ryan's light indicated they were ready to move in. Jim secured a two-handed grip on the pistol. He took a deep breath and lunged ahead.
All three of them converged on the small clearing at the same time, guns leveled. The trio shouted a cacophony of conflicting commands for their captive to put up his hands, drop to his knees, and not to move. Jim looked into the startled eyes of a disheveled homeless man who had taken up residence in the park for the night. He had a half-empty bottle of vodka in one hand, and his collection of partially smoked cigarettes in the other. The three lowered their weapons. Ryan tried without much success to calm the terrified man. Jim felt his face flush as he returned his pistol to his waistband.
A sound drifted out of the darkness. Jim stepped out from behind the bushes and saw a figure fleeing into the night, running back toward the Arch.
"There he goes!" he shouted. He took off at a dead sprint. The pounding of footsteps behind him announced that Krista and Ryan were with him. Fatigue coursed through his body, and he cursed his condition once more. Had this happened a month before, Karim could never have outrun him. As it was, Jim was giving everything he had just to keep up.
From the dark Saint Louis night, the base of the Arch slowly appeared. The image grew sharper as he approached. The figure ahead ran down the ramp and disappeared from view, but not before Jim saw the two briefcases dangling from his hands. They had him!
He slowed to a walk and edged closer to the ramp in a deep crouch. Krista and Ryan caught up to him. He told them what he had seen. Ryan motioned for Jim to wait as he pulled out his cell phone to call in the situation. Jim had to force himself to be patient. Karim had run down the ramp. With the facility secured for the evening, there was no way out. He was trapped, so there was no need for Jim to rush into his field of fire and risk being shot. They would wait for the Saint Louis Police.
Twin gunshots rang out, mingled with the sound of shattered glass striking the ground. The building's alarm shrieked its warning, the piercing klaxon painful at such a close range. Jim looked to the others as he rose to his feet once more.
"He's inside the Memorial. We have to go after him. He might sneak out the other side."
"Or worse," Ryan said with a frown, "if we leave him in there long enough, he might decide to use the nukes. He could destroy the entire city." He squinted as he strained to see the opening for the ramp on the far side of the monument. "If we all go inside, Karim could leave by the far exit. Krista, I want you to go cover the door over there. Jim, you will wait at this door to make sure he doesn't sneak around me and leave this way. You two have done enough. It's my turn to take the risks."
Jim wanted to object but decided against it. Krista slipped away into the park to watch the doors on the far side. Jim and Ryan edged closer to the ramp, careful to stay out of the view of anyone waiting below in case Karim had set up an ambush. Jim lay on his stomach. He crawled to the edge of the ramp. He peeked over the edge to the ground ten feet below. A door stood ajar, gaping into the building's dimly lit interior. The jagged remnants of the demolished window dangled at
odd angles from the door frame. He nodded to Ryan, who descended the stairs. The NSA agent crept down the ramp and slipped through the open doorway.
The seconds ticked by. Jim felt increasingly uneasy. Ryan's boss should have already notified the police, but no one had yet come. He also felt edgy about Ryan searching the building alone. While the most famous portion of the Jefferson Westward Expansion Memorial was the Arch, there was also a sprawling museum belowground, plus a theater and other attractions. It would be fairly easy for one man to hide from another. Perhaps a second set of eyes would help, even if Jim had to stay close to the door. He backed off to where the sloping ground provided a reasonably safe drop. He rolled over the edge and landed softly on the concrete below.
The open door was only two steps away when the first shots rang out. Jim sprinted through the doorway, gun held ready as he swept the darkness for any signs of movement. Another pair of gunshots ripped across the museum. To Jim's left, Ryan tumbled to the ground, one hand clutched to his chest while the other tried to arrest his fall. Across the main room, Jim saw a silhouetted figure retreat down the far ramp. An overhead sign indicated access to the South Tram. He trotted to the fallen NSA agent's side.
"Ryan, talk to me," he shouted. He winced at the deafening digital clamor of the alarm.
"I can't go any further, Hunter. It's up to you." He coughed, a wet, racking cough that sprayed a small amount of blood onto his chest. There were two gunshot wounds, one to the left shoulder and another to his abdomen. They were serious injuries, but Jim hoped he could hold on for a few more minutes. Help was on the way. Ryan could probably wait, but Karim could not. His time had come. Jim crossed the room and edged closer the ramp.
He froze at the sound of shattering glass. He looked to the south entrance in time to see Krista step through the doors. Her eyes immediately went to the crumpled form in the center of the room, then to where Jim stood poised to descend to the tram. Jim knew he could not afford to wait for her, so he pointed to Ryan, then stepped out of her view before she could object.
