by R. A. Lamb
Sam yelled, “Check it out first. Don’t open that--”
But it was too late, a canister, rattled across the floor, spewing choking smoke. I saw Sam reach for her weapon.
Mathews shouted at the opened doorway, “No! No! I was the one who--“
Tat, tat, tat. His body jerked like a puppet on a broken string and fell backward blocking Sam’s line of fire.
Tat, tat, tat. The shooter or shooters strafed the inside of the trailer. Monitors exploded and sparks flew as ricocheting bullets destroyed the bank of computers. The smoke from the canister now half-filled the trailer. I saw the black and yellow handle of the Taser on the bench and grabbed for it.
The sharp crack of Sam’s 9mm was followed by the distinctive sound of the terrorists’ Uzis. She was spun against the wall. Her gun flew from her hand and Sam fell backward and sank into the layer of smoke leaving behind an ugly smear of red droplets on the trailer wall.
“Kat, get down,” I grabbed her arm and dragged her to the floor. I yelled in her ear, “Hide in the smoke and make your way to the cab. I’m right behind you.” I felt her tremble as she got on her knees and disappeared into the smoky curtain.
Another burst of gunfire filled the trailer. I heard the crunch of glass under the terrorists’ feet as they entered and the hiss of shorting wires from the dying computers. My eyes burned the instant my head dipped beneath the layer of smoke. I held my breath, but I heard Kat coughing as we crawled toward the cab. The terrorists were too busy shouting to hear any noises we made.
I felt a warm gust of air letting me know that Kat had opened the door. At least she’s safe, I thought. A moment later I was on the ground beside her. I pulled her close and felt her shiver.
“I’m scared too. We have to get into the crowd,” I said coughing. We ran for the nearest group of people. For the moment the sky was dark and silvery trails of smoke from the rockets hung in the air.
I grabbed Kat around the neck and shouted, “Get out of the jumpsuit. These uniforms make us targets.” We made our way toward the grandstands on the west lawn of the Capitol, and closer to the orchestra. I thought, there would be safety in numbers and it was wall to wall people ahead. That’s when I caught a glimpse of him.
“Stay here.” I put my arm around Kat and kissed her hard on the lips.
“Todd, where are you going?”
“I’ll meet you at the interrogation bus.” I turned and quickly made my way into the crowd. The MC announced, “And now the National Symphony Orchestra playing Tchaikovsky’s 1812 Overture.” The music began with a burst of cannons, and the blare of trumpets, followed by volley after volley of gold, red and white rockets bursting and showering the night with cascades of color. The sound was deafening.
I’m getting closer. I need to stay focused. That’s when I got a clear view. Ponytail. It was Ponytail. He was moving toward the orchestra and there was something in his left hand. Whatever it was had a silver antenna. Again the fireworks streaked across the night.
A remote, I thought, my God there must be a bomb in the speakers I saw put out today. The orchestra’s the target. He’s getting in range to detonate it.
I pushed my way toward Ponytail, screaming at the crowd to let me through. They couldn’t hear me. It was useless but I shouted anyway. I was within ten steps when Ponytail turned. I saw the surprised look on his face and then recognition. Ponytail reached under his shirt.
I saw the flash from his right hand as his bullet hit me in the chest and knocked me backward off my feet. I gasped for breath and clutched the spot where the bullet had hit my Kevlar vest. My chest felt like I had been struck with a heavy hammer. I tried to get up but a wave of nausea hit me. I swallowed hard tried hard not to black out.
Ponytail started toward me. There was nothing between us. I clearly made out the remote with its silver antenna and blinking red light in one hand and an automatic pistol in the other. Ponytail raised his gun and fired as I rolled to his left. A sharp pain shot through my arm. My head began to spin, my skin felt wet and clammy and I tried to stand but only made it to my knees. I reached for the Taser in my belt. I was dizzy. My eyes blurred.
Only five steps separated us. My mind screamed, these next few seconds will determine whether I live or die. One shot, one chance.
Ponytail raised his weapon.
I squeezed the trigger. Ponytail froze at the impact. White rockets exploded overhead. In their light I saw every muscle of Ponytail’s face and neck contract as thousands of volts coursed through his body.
Ponytail sank to his knees not two steps away. The wires from my Taser dangled from Ponytail’s chest. Ponytail’s eyes were closed, then slowly opened and locked on mine. Ponytail tried to raise the arm holding the remote. I could see his fingers twitch. Then Ponytail’s eyelids fluttered as the tranquilizer pellet took effect and he fell face forward, brushing my knee with his long hair.
Two officers ran toward me, guns drawn, shouting, “Drop that weapon.” I let the Taser slip to the ground. The roar of the canons and the trumpets reached a fever pitch. The sky exploded in a fury of color. The crowd jumped, clapped and cheered.
I vaguely remembered one of the officers shouting into his radio for more backup and a paramedic. The smell of burned sulfur hung around us like a shroud. I lost all sense of reality and my world went blank. I vaguely remembered being turned over. A blurry image hovering above me and a muffled voice, “Can you hear me, fella. You’ve been shot. You’re going to be okay but I need to look.”
I remembered the medic cutting my sleeve and the cold sting of alcohol on my arm. I started drifting off again, but was shocked to awareness as I gagged on the smelling salts held under my nose.
“It’s a through and through,” the medic said, “This is going to hurt a little.” He gave me a shot and he was right. It stung like hell. The medic applied a compress, and wrapped my arm with gauze. That didn’t make it feel any better. Two policemen helped me up and held me as we slowly made our way through the remaining crowd to an ambulance.
One said, “Just a few more steps and--”
I saw the interrogation bus. “I’ve got to go to that bus. I told my girl I’d meet her there.”
“Sorry, that’s not a good idea. We’ll have an officer go later and--”
I interrupted and after a brief argument they helped me to the bus’s door and up the three steps. Hank flashed his badge and asked them to standby. They waited outside.
I leaned against the driver’s seat. My arm throbbed. Kat still wore her Kevlar vest. She threw her arms around me and whispered in my ear, “Glad to see you, Cowboy.”
I winced, “Me too, Kat, me too”
Hank caught my eye and winked. His jacket was streaked with dirt, his hand was wrapped with a handkerchief.
I held Kat tighter with my good arm, “Where are Sam and Agent Mathews?”
Kat’s voice choked, “When the terrorists attacked the van,” She hesitated, “Sam was shot. Her shoulder. I heard the medic say it looked bad. They rushed her to the hospital. And Agent Mathews was killed. The terrorists’ shot him, Todd. They just shot him point blank.”
I lowered my head to Kat’s shoulder. Another wave of nausea swept through my gut, “What about Alkobar? Was he there? Did we get him?”
Hank answered for her, “He was on the grounds, we got a positive ID, but he got away.”
“All this for nothing?” I looked toward Hank.
“No, that’s not right, Hank took a step toward me. “We took down four terrorists, no bombs were set off, not a single spectator hurt. Alkobar failed. It was a good night.” Hank motioned to the holding cell. “I can’t wait to interrogate this one,” and he pointed to the barred door.
On a seat, behind the bars sat Jamie Hendricks. Hank looked at my bandaged arm, “Now you and Kat go to the hospital with those policemen. They’ll make sure your safe. I’ll have guards posted and check on you later.”
Chapter 23
The attendants in the emergency room
knew what they were doing. They ran some tests, redressed my wound and gave me another shot that made me forget I’d been hurt.
The attending physician said, “We want to keep you both overnight for observation.”
We were put in adjoining rooms. Police were posted outside our doors. I had just settled in bed when my door opened. It was Kat. She had this anxious look I’d never seen before and said, in fact she whispered, “Todd, do you mind… I mean I don’t want to be alone tonight.”
I held out my hand, “Me either, Kat.”
The next morning the phone rang. I looked at the clock on the end table. It was quarter of nine. I reached across Kat to pick it up, my nose an inch from hers. I let the phone ring one more time as I brushed her lips with mine. “Morning,” I whispered.
She smiled that impish grin.
I picked up the receiver, “Hello.”
It was Hank.
“I’ve spoken to your doctor. He said you could check out if we restricted your activity. I want our team to hear what happened last night. You up to that?” I looked at Kat. She’d heard most of the conversation and nodded.
“We’re ready. How soon?”
“Hang on a minute. The doctor will be in to examine you, if everything is okay, I’ll have a car waiting.”
The doctor looked me over and asked the nurse to redress my wound and handed me a prescription. With a police guard in front of us and behind us, Kat walked beside my wheelchair as a nurse pushed me to the front entrance. A car was waiting. The chair was loaded into the trunk and two agents drove us to the DC police station.
We arrived just as Hank was finishing Hendricks’ interrogation. Kat and I watched through the one way glass. Hank said, “You can help yourself, Hendricks, by telling us where Alkobar is hiding.”
“You’ve got to be kidding, Holland. If I knew and if I told you, I wouldn’t live to see tomorrow let alone next week.”
“If you don’t, you can expect to live in federal prison the rest of your life. Think about it.”
Hendricks hung his head and quit talking. Hank scooted out his chair, opened the door and motioned to a guard. “Take him back to holding. We’ll try again later.”
Kat pushed my wheelchair. Hank led us to a conference room. Chief of Police Ratkin, some patrolmen and a few FBI agents were waiting. Kat and I went over every detail we could think of. There was a knock on the door. A plain clothes agent went over to Hank and handed him a message. “Good news. Alkobar was spotted renting a car. He’s in a dark blue Chevy Malibu.”
“That’s good news?” I questioned.
“It is. It’s equipped with GPS. We can track him and right now he’s heading for New York State. Hank turned to one of his agents, “Set up road blocks. Coordinate with the State Police.”
Chief Ratkin interrupted, “Let’s go to my office. I’ll help you get things started.” I figured Hank would have us taken back to the hospital but he let us stay with him. It was midafternoon when Hank got word choppers spotted the rental in a roadside park on Interstate 78, thirty-five miles west of Newark. The chopper pilot was patched into Hank’s cell phone. Hank put it on speaker.
“We have the vehicle in sight and State Police are about six minutes out.”
“Stay on the line. I want to hear what goes down,” Hank commanded. “Do you have agents in the chopper?”
“Yes sir, two. I’ll set down in the parking area when the state patrol arrives. Oh, I’ve spotted them. They are coming in, lights flashing. I’m going to land. We’ll touch down in a few seconds.”
“What about the suspect vehicle, any movement?”
“No sir. The police are now out of their cars, closing in on all sides. I can make out someone in the driver’s seat but no sign of movement.”
The conference room door opened abruptly and a uniformed patrolman whispered to Hank. “Damn-it,” Hank scowled.
The chopper pilot continued his description, “The driver appears to be injured. They’ve taken him out of the car and he’s lying on the ground. One of the agents is running back over here. Stand by, Agent Holland”
Hank glanced at Kat and me. We heard the pilot ask the agent, “Shall I call for an ambulance.” And the agent’s reply, “No need. He’s dead. Shot twice in the chest.”
Hank shouted, “Alkobar committed suicide? Let me talk to the agent.”
There was static on the phone, then “This is Agent Malroy.”
“Malroy, did Alkobar shoot himself?”
“The man in the car isn’t your guy.”
“What? Who is he?”
“We don’t know yet. The victim has no tattoos and no ID. Your perp must have taken it. Looks like he shot the driver and stole his car. ”
Hank slouched in his seat, “Let me know if you find anything else, Malroy.” Hank ended the call.
“Well you heard. Alkobar’s in the wind. We’ll set up road blocks but our chances just got a lot worse.”
Talk about doom and gloom. That was how I felt. Would I never be rid of Alkobar and the terrorists?
“Hank, what did the policeman tell you while we were listening to the chopper report,” Kat asked?
Hank was slow to answer. Finally he said, “Bad news about Hendricks too. He was in the showers this afternoon and was stabbed in the throat with the sharpened handle of a tooth brush. Whoever did it, broke it off so Hendricks couldn’t pull it out.”
I felt a cold chill, “Is he going to be okay?”
“Don’t know yet. By the time we found him he’d lost a lot of blood. The guards took him to the infirmary.”
“And that means…”
“It means if he did know anything, he won’t be talking for a while and it means Alkobar got word inside to take Hendricks down.”
“Unbelievable,” was all I could think of.
“Believe it, Todd. Alkobar has connections. Our hope now is that he’s spotted by a road block.”
“Where could he be headed?”
“A safe house, New York City, the Canadian border, at this point we don’t know.”
Kat’s voice sounded tight. “What about us. Do we need to move again, get another car?”
“I need to make a couple of calls before I answer that. Sit tight. I’ll be back soon.” Kat and I sat alone in the conference room. It was silent except for the sound of people walking in the hall outside the door.
“Todd, I thought this was over. I thought we were going home, back to work, back to our lives.”
“Hang on, Kat. It can’t be much longer. Let’s hear what Hank has to say,” but in my gut I had my doubts.
It was over an hour before Hank opened the conference room door and sat down at the table. He had a grim look. One we had not seen before.
“Kids, I want you to trust me. There is a chopper heading this way.”
Kat slid her hand under mine.
“It’s going to take us to Quantico.”
I cleared my throat and gripped Kat’s hand, “The Marine base?”
“Yes, I’m going with you to make sure you’re okay. They have a compound there. Very secure. No one goes in or out. Sentries guard it around the clock. It’s the safest place I know.”
“Is that really necessary? I looked surprised. “After all we’re just --”
“You’re both key witnesses in a terrorist plot and more importantly you know Alkobar doesn’t like loose ends. And you fit that definition perfectly.”
We heard the flop, flop, flop of the helicopter as it approached the building.
“Come on. It’ll land on the roof and I want to be there when the wheels touch down,” Hank got to his feet.
We made our way to the top of the building and shielded our eyes as a drab green military helicopter hovered a few feet above the landing pad. Its massive blades blowing dust and gravel in all directions. The door slid open and a man wearing a helmet and fatigues motioned us forward.
Hank shouted something to Kat and me which was lost in the noise of the aircraft. He ducked h
is head and ran to the open door. We followed.
We hadn’t buckled up before the chopper lifted off. The marine raised the visor on his helmet and passed each of us a set of ear phones. I saw the pilot press a button on the stick.
“Welcome aboard. Your taxi will have you on the ground in twenty-five minutes. Relax and make yourself at home.”
Easier said than done, I thought.
The chopper sat down on a concrete pad next to a barracks on the base. A marine, sitting in a jeep was waiting and drove the three of us a few miles to an open field next to a cleared area surrounded by a chain link fence with razor wire coiled along the top. It reminded me of the part of Huntsville prison you can see from Interstate 45 as you drive from Houston to Dallas. The fence surrounded a one story brick building about as big as an ordinary house. The driver stopped in front of a gate where armed sentries in uniform stood guard.
“These are your quarters,” the driver pointed to the building. “Please wait here while I get clearance.” He picked up a folder and approached the guards.
I noticed several cameras mounted on poles positioned around the compound. I guessed this was a safe place but it gave me an eerie feeling.
“I’m leaving you here,” Hank said, “this is as secure as it gets. I’ve got some arrangements to make; should take a day or two. I’ll be in touch.”
One of the armed sentries stepped forward and examined the folder; then spoke into his hand held radio, “Occupants have arrived. Acknowledge when the outside perimeter may be accessed.”
From the radio we heard, “What is your protocol?”
The driver acknowledged, “Code name Bravo Alpha Two.”
The voice fed back, “Perimeter now may be accessed, proceed.”
The sentry pressed a key pad on the chain link gate; it swung open. He led Kat and me across the bare dirt yard to the front door. I turned and waved to Hank. He was already in the jeep. I watched the trail of dust as the jeep turned and started back down the road.
“What is this place?” I asked as I watched the jeep disappear.
