Ticket #549: book.html

File book.html, 532.3 KB (added by cloggy, 3 years ago)
Line 
1<?xml version='1.0' encoding='utf-8'?>
2<html xmlns:v="urn:schemas-microsoft-com:vml" xmlns:o="urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:office" xmlns:w="urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:word" xmlns:st1="urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:smarttags" xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml">
3  <head>
4    <meta name="ProgId" content="Word.Document"/>
5    <meta name="Generator" content="Microsoft Word 11"/>
6    <meta name="Originator" content="Microsoft Word 11"/>
7    <link rel="File-List" href="book_files/filelist.xml"/>
8    <link rel="Edit-Time-Data" href="book_files/editdata.mso"/>
9    <!--[if !mso]>
10<style>
11v\:* {behavior:url(#default#VML);}
12o\:* {behavior:url(#default#VML);}
13w\:* {behavior:url(#default#VML);}
14.shape {behavior:url(#default#VML);}
15</style>
16<![endif]-->
17    <smarttagtype namespaceuri="urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:smarttags" name="State"/>
18    <smarttagtype namespaceuri="urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:smarttags" name="City"/>
19    <smarttagtype namespaceuri="urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:smarttags" name="place"/>
20    <!--[if gte mso 9]><xml>
21 <o:DocumentProperties>
22  <o:Author>HDS</o:Author>
23  <o:LastAuthor>HDS</o:LastAuthor>
24  <o:Revision>3</o:Revision>
25  <o:TotalTime>3</o:TotalTime>
26  <o:Created>2009-10-01T22:08:00Z</o:Created>
27  <o:LastSaved>2009-10-01T22:11:00Z</o:LastSaved>
28  <o:Pages>55</o:Pages>
29  <o:Words>62302</o:Words>
30  <o:Characters>355123</o:Characters>
31  <o:Company>Hitachi Data Systems</o:Company>
32  <o:Lines>2959</o:Lines>
33  <o:Paragraphs>833</o:Paragraphs>
34  <o:CharactersWithSpaces>416592</o:CharactersWithSpaces>
35  <o:Version>11.9999</o:Version>
36 </o:DocumentProperties>
37</xml><![endif]-->
38    <!--[if gte mso 9]><xml>
39 <w:WordDocument>
40  <w:DoNotHyphenateCaps/>
41  <w:ValidateAgainstSchemas/>
42  <w:SaveIfXMLInvalid>false</w:SaveIfXMLInvalid>
43  <w:IgnoreMixedContent>false</w:IgnoreMixedContent>
44  <w:AlwaysShowPlaceholderText>false</w:AlwaysShowPlaceholderText>
45  <w:Compatibility>
46   <w:UseFELayout/>
47  </w:Compatibility>
48  <w:BrowserLevel>MicrosoftInternetExplorer4</w:BrowserLevel>
49 </w:WordDocument>
50</xml><![endif]-->
51    <!--[if gte mso 9]><xml>
52 <w:LatentStyles DefLockedState="false" LatentStyleCount="156">
53 </w:LatentStyles>
54</xml><![endif]-->
55    <!--[if !mso]><object
56 classid="clsid:38481807-CA0E-42D2-BF39-B33AF135CC4D" id=ieooui></object>
57<style>
58st1\:*{behavior:url(#ieooui) }
59</style>
60<![endif]-->
61    <!--[if gte mso 10]>
62<style>
63 /* Style Definitions */
64 table.MsoNormalTable
65        {mso-style-name:"Table Normal";
66        mso-tstyle-rowband-size:0;
67        mso-tstyle-colband-size:0;
68        mso-style-noshow:yes;
69        mso-style-parent:"";
70        mso-padding-alt:0in 5.4pt 0in 5.4pt;
71        mso-para-margin:0in;
72        mso-para-margin-bottom:.0001pt;
73        mso-pagination:widow-orphan;
74        font-size:10.0pt;
75        font-family:"Times New Roman";
76        mso-fareast-font-family:"Times New Roman";
77        mso-ansi-language:#0400;
78        mso-fareast-language:#0400;
79        mso-bidi-language:#0400;}
80</style>
81<![endif]-->
82    <title>Unknown</title>
83    <meta content="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml; charset=utf-8" http-equiv="Content-Type"/><link href="stylesheet.css" type="text/css" rel="stylesheet"/><style type="text/css">
84                @page { margin-bottom: 5.000000pt; margin-top: 5.000000pt; }
85                @font-face {
86    font-family: "MS Mincho";
87    panose-1: 2 2 6 9 4 2 5 8 3 4;
88    mso-font-alt: "\FF2D\FF33 \660E\671D";
89    mso-font-charset: 128;
90    mso-generic-font-family: modern;
91    mso-font-pitch: fixed;
92    mso-font-signature: -1610612033 1757936891 16 0 131231 0
93    }
94
95                @font-face {
96    font-family: "\@MS Mincho";
97    panose-1: 2 2 6 9 4 2 5 8 3 4;
98    mso-font-charset: 128;
99    mso-generic-font-family: modern;
100    mso-font-pitch: fixed;
101    mso-font-signature: -1610612033 1757936891 16 0 131231 0
102    }
103</style></head>
104  <body link="blue" vlink="blue" class="calibre2">
105
106<div class="Section">
107
108<p class="MsoNormal"><p class="calibre3"> </p></p>
109
110<p class="calibre4"><a name="cov01"></a><img width="140" height="140" id="_x0000_i1025" src="cover.png" class="calibre5"/></p>
111
112<p class="MsoNormal1"><p class="calibre3"> </p></p>
113
114<p class="calibre4"><br class="calibre6"/><strong class="calibre7">Black Friday</strong><br class="calibre6"/><i class="calibre8">A Maggie O'Dell Novel</i><br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/><strong class="calibre7">Alex Kava</strong><br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/><img width="26" height="34" id="_x0000_i1026" src="logo.png" class="calibre5"/></p>
115
116<p class="MsoNormal1"><br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre9"/><br class="calibre9"/></p>
117
118<p class="calibre4"><a name="ada01"></a><strong class="calibre7">Also by
119ALEX KAVA</strong><br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
120EXPOSED<br class="calibre6"/>
121WHITEWASH<br class="calibre6"/>
122A NECESSARY EVIL<br class="calibre6"/>
123ONE FALSE MOVE<br class="calibre6"/>
124AT THE STROKE OF MADNESS<br class="calibre6"/>
125THE SOUL CATCHER<br class="calibre6"/>
126SPLIT SECOND<br class="calibre6"/>
127A PERFECT EVIL</p>
128
129<p class="MsoNormal1"><p class="calibre3"> </p></p>
130
131<p class="calibre4"><a name="ded01"></a>Walter Platt Carlin<br class="calibre6"/>
132November 13,1922 to September 6,2008<br class="calibre6"/><i class="calibre8">Husband, father, officer, gentleman, friend</i>—<br class="calibre6"/><i class="calibre8">You were definitely one of a kind.</i><br class="calibre6"/><i class="calibre8">We miss you every single day.</i></p>
133
134<p class="MsoNormal1"><p class="calibre3"> </p></p>
135
136<p class="calibre4"><strong class="calibre7">CONTENTS</strong><b class="calibre7"><br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/><strong class="calibre7"><a href="#ch01">CHAPTER 1</a></strong><br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/><strong class="calibre7"><a href="#ch02">CHAPTER 2</a></strong><br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/><strong class="calibre7"><a href="#ch03">CHAPTER 3</a></strong><br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/><strong class="calibre7"><a href="#ch04">CHAPTER 4</a></strong><br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/><strong class="calibre7"><a href="#ch05">CHAPTER 5</a></strong><br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/><strong class="calibre7"><a href="#ch06">CHAPTER 6</a></strong><br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/><strong class="calibre7"><a href="#ch07">CHAPTER 7</a></strong><br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/><strong class="calibre7"><a href="#ch08">CHAPTER 8</a></strong><br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/><strong class="calibre7"><a href="#ch09">CHAPTER 9</a></strong><br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/><strong class="calibre7"><a href="#ch10">CHAPTER 10</a></strong><br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/><strong class="calibre7"><a href="#ch11">CHAPTER 11</a></strong><br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/><strong class="calibre7"><a href="#ch12">CHAPTER 12</a></strong><br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/><strong class="calibre7"><a href="#ch13">CHAPTER 13</a></strong><br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/><strong class="calibre7"><a href="#ch14">CHAPTER 14</a></strong><br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/><strong class="calibre7"><a href="#ch15">CHAPTER 15</a></strong><br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/><strong class="calibre7"><a href="#ch16">CHAPTER 16</a></strong><br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/><strong class="calibre7"><a href="#ch17">CHAPTER 17</a></strong><br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/><strong class="calibre7"><a href="#ch18">CHAPTER 18</a></strong><br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/><strong class="calibre7"><a href="#ch19">CHAPTER 19</a></strong><br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/><strong class="calibre7"><a href="#ch20">CHAPTER 20</a></strong><br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/><strong class="calibre7"><a href="#ch21">CHAPTER 21</a></strong><br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/><strong class="calibre7"><a href="#ch22">CHAPTER 22</a></strong><br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/><strong class="calibre7"><a href="#ch23">CHAPTER 23</a></strong><br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/><strong class="calibre7"><a href="#ch24">CHAPTER 24</a></strong><br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/><strong class="calibre7"><a href="#ch25">CHAPTER 25</a></strong><br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/><strong class="calibre7"><a href="#ch26">CHAPTER 26</a></strong><br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/><strong class="calibre7"><a href="#ch27">CHAPTER 27</a></strong><br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/><strong class="calibre7"><a href="#ch28">CHAPTER 28</a></strong><br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/><strong class="calibre7"><a href="#ch29">CHAPTER 29</a></strong><br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/><strong class="calibre7"><a href="#ch30">CHAPTER 30</a></strong><br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/><strong class="calibre7"><a href="#ch31">CHAPTER 31</a></strong><br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/><strong class="calibre7"><a href="#ch32">CHAPTER 32</a></strong><br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/><strong class="calibre7"><a href="#ch33">CHAPTER 33</a></strong><br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/><strong class="calibre7"><a href="#ch34">CHAPTER 34</a></strong><br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/><strong class="calibre7"><a href="#ch35">CHAPTER 35</a></strong><br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/><strong class="calibre7"><a href="#ch36">CHAPTER 36</a></strong><br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/><strong class="calibre7"><a href="#ch37">CHAPTER 37</a></strong><br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/><strong class="calibre7"><a href="#ch38">CHAPTER 38</a></strong><br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/><strong class="calibre7"><a href="#ch39">CHAPTER 39</a></strong><br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/><strong class="calibre7"><a href="#ch40">CHAPTER 40</a></strong><br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/><strong class="calibre7"><a href="#ch41">CHAPTER 41</a></strong><br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/><strong class="calibre7"><a href="#ch42">CHAPTER 42</a></strong><br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/><strong class="calibre7"><a href="#ch43">CHAPTER 43</a></strong><br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/><strong class="calibre7"><a href="#ch44">CHAPTER 44</a></strong><br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/><strong class="calibre7"><a href="#ch45">CHAPTER 45</a></strong><br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/><strong class="calibre7"><a href="#ch46">CHAPTER 46</a></strong><br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/><strong class="calibre7"><a href="#ch47">CHAPTER 47</a></strong><br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/><strong class="calibre7"><a href="#ch48">CHAPTER 48</a></strong><br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/><strong class="calibre7"><a href="#ch49">CHAPTER 49</a></strong><br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/><strong class="calibre7"><a href="#ch50">CHAPTER 50</a></strong><br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/><strong class="calibre7"><a href="#ch51">CHAPTER 51</a></strong><br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/><strong class="calibre7"><a href="#ch52">CHAPTER 52</a></strong><br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/><strong class="calibre7"><a href="#ch53">CHAPTER 53</a></strong><br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/><strong class="calibre7"><a href="#ch54">CHAPTER 54</a></strong><br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/><strong class="calibre7"><a href="#ch55">CHAPTER 55</a></strong><br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/><strong class="calibre7"><a href="#ch56">CHAPTER 56</a></strong><br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/><strong class="calibre7"><a href="#ch57">CHAPTER 57</a></strong><br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/><strong class="calibre7"><a href="#ch58">CHAPTER 58</a></strong><br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/><strong class="calibre7"><a href="#ch59">CHAPTER 59</a></strong><br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/><strong class="calibre7"><a href="#ch60">CHAPTER 60</a></strong><br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/><strong class="calibre7"><a href="#ch61">CHAPTER 61</a></strong><br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/><strong class="calibre7"><a href="#ch62">CHAPTER 62</a></strong><br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/><strong class="calibre7"><a href="#ch63">CHAPTER 63</a></strong><br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/><strong class="calibre7"><a href="#ch64">CHAPTER 64</a></strong><br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/><strong class="calibre7"><a href="#ch65">CHAPTER 65</a></strong><br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/><strong class="calibre7"><a href="#ch66">CHAPTER 66</a></strong><br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/><strong class="calibre7"><a href="#ch67">CHAPTER 67</a></strong><br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/><strong class="calibre7"><a href="#ch68">CHAPTER 68</a></strong><br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/><strong class="calibre7"><a href="#ch69">CHAPTER 69</a></strong><br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/><strong class="calibre7"><a href="#ch70">CHAPTER 70</a></strong><br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/><strong class="calibre7"><a href="#ch71">CHAPTER 71</a></strong><br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/><strong class="calibre7"><a href="#ch72">CHAPTER 72</a></strong><br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/><strong class="calibre7"><a href="#ch73">CHAPTER 73</a></strong><br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/><strong class="calibre7"><a href="#ch74">CHAPTER 74</a></strong><br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/><strong class="calibre7"><a href="#ch75">CHAPTER 75</a></strong><br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/><strong class="calibre7"><a href="#ch76">CHAPTER 76</a></strong><br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/><strong class="calibre7"><a href="#ch77">CHAPTER 77</a></strong><br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/><strong class="calibre7"><a href="#ch78">CHAPTER 78</a></strong><br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/><strong class="calibre7"><a href="#ch79">CHAPTER 79</a></strong><br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/><strong class="calibre7"><a href="#ch80">CHAPTER 80</a></strong><br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/><strong class="calibre7"><a href="#ch81">CHAPTER 81</a></strong><br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/><strong class="calibre7"><a href="#ch82">CHAPTER 82</a></strong><br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/><strong class="calibre7"><a href="#bm01">EPILOGUE</a></strong><br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/><strong class="calibre7"><a href="#bm02">AUTHOR'S NOTE</a></strong><br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/><strong class="calibre7"><a href="#bm03">ACKNOWLEDGMENTS</a></strong></b></p>
137
138<p class="MsoNormal1"><p class="calibre3"> </p></p>
139
140<p class="calibre10"><a name="ch01"></a><strong class="calibre7">CHAPTER</strong><b class="calibre7"><br class="calibre6"/><strong class="calibre7">1</strong></b></p>
141
142<p class="MsoNormal1"><i class="calibre8">Friday morning, November 23</i><br class="calibre6"/><i class="calibre8">Mall of America</i><br class="calibre6"/><place w:st="on"><city w:st="on"><i class="calibre8">Bloomington</i></city><i class="calibre8">, <state w:st="on">Minnesota</state></i></place><br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
143Rebecca Cory stood her ground despite another elbow shoved into her shoulder
144blades. She'd let the first two shoves go. A quick glance back at the tattooed
145man convinced her to ignore this one, too. The man towered over her, wearing
146camouflage pants and a muscle T-shirt. No signs of a coat. Quite a strange
147fashion statement considering it was twenty degrees outside and snowing, but
148not a bad idea in the crowded mall.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
149Even with a glance it would have been hard for Rebecca not to notice the
150purple-and-green dragon that snaked down the man's arm, its tail curling up
151around his neck and its fire-breathing head squeezing out of the T-shirt's
152tight armhole. The tattoo crawled all the way down past the man's elbow. The
153same elbow that kept finding its way into the middle of Rebecca's shoulder
154blades.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
155She told herself to be patient. She could finally see the order counter as the
156line to the mall's coffee bar grew shorter. It wouldn't be much longer. She
157tried to concentrate on the Christmas music, what she could hear of it through
158the crowd's chatter and the temper tantrums of impatient toddlers.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/><i class="calibre8">"…in a winter wonderland."</i><br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
159She loved that song. But it certainly didn't feel like winter in here. Sweat
160trickled down her back. She wished she had left her coat back with <city w:st="on"><place w:st="on">Dixon</place></city> and Patrick who
161were guarding a rare find, a bistro table and four chairs in the mall's
162overcrowded food court.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
163Rebecca hummed with the music. She knew all the words. They had sung Christmas
164songs on their long road trip. <state w:st="on">Connecticut</state> to <state w:st="on"><place w:st="on">Minnesota</place></state>. Twenty-one
165hours. Thirteen hundred miles. Surviving on Red Bull, convenience-store coffee
166and McDonalds. She hadn't caught up yet on sleep although yesterday they all
167crashed after Thanksgiving dinner at Dixon's grandparents' house. The first
168holiday meal she'd had in years—turkey, dressing, real mashed potatoes and all
169the trimmings. Granddad said a blessing. Nanna served seconds whether you asked
170for them or not. Dixon had no clue how lucky he was. Family, tradition,
171stability, unconditional love. It gave Rebecca hope to see those things still
172existed despite being absent from her family's life.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
173Another elbow.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/><i class="calibre8">Damn!</i><br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
174She resisted looking back this time.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/><i class="calibre8">What in the world was she doing here?</i><br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
175She hated malls and yet here she was on the day after Thanksgiving, the busiest
176shopping day and craziest shopping crowd of the year. She'd let Dixon talk her
177into it, just like this whole trip, convincing her it'd be an adventure she'd
178never forget. He'd been doing crap like that since they were in kindergarten
179and he convinced her paste tasted like cotton candy. You'd think she'd learn by
180now that Dixon's taste for adventure was pretty much like his taste for cotton
181candy, tame and sugar-coated, the hype being the most exciting part of anything
182Dixon did. What did she expect from a guy who quoted Batman and Robin?<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
183And poor Patrick, along for the ride, trying to be the good sport.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/><i class="calibre8">Patrick</i>.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
184He was a whole different story. She should have found Patrick's behavior
185endearing. Instead, she thought it a bit suspicious that this totally cool and
186together guy would want to travel 1300 miles to spend Thanksgiving with her and
187Dixon. Seemed a long way to go just to get inside her pants.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/><i class="calibre8">That wasn't fair.</i><br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
188She knew he didn't have any family to keep him in Connecticut over the long
189holiday weekend. His mom was in Green Bay. He had a stepsister in D.C. He'd
190asked if they could cut through Wisconsin on the way back, like that was part
191of his excuse to go along. That maybe they could just drop in and say
192"hi" to his mom. <i class="calibre8">But no big deal if it didn't happen</i>.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
193That was Patrick. Low-key, mature, steady as a rock. Dixon called it
194"boring." Rebecca called it dependable and she liked that about
195Patrick even if she wasn't so sure about his intentions. Dependable felt good.
196Having Patrick along felt good, though she didn't like admitting that even to
197herself.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
198They'd become friends working at Champs across from the University of New
199Haven. Patrick tended bar and Rebecca waited tables. She wasn't old enough to
200serve drinks to the table and if there wasn't another "of age"
201waitress working then Patrick did it for her, always so patient about it even
202when he was swamped behind the bar.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/><i class="calibre8">Patient, kind, gentle…very suspicious.</i><br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
203Pretty weird, or maybe just sad and pathetic, that she found all that
204suspicious. Mostly in the beginning. Not so much anymore. Next to Dixon,
205Patrick was her best friend. Her mom didn't think it was normal for Rebecca to
206have boys as best friends.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
207"Are you having sex with these boys?" her mom wanted to know. Then
208when Rebecca told her "absolutely not," her mom seemed even more
209perplexed.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
210"You're not a lesbian, are you?" her mom had asked and quickly added,
211"Not that there's anything wrong with that."<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
212In the last three years Rebecca had watched her mom and dad yell their way
213through a divorce. Her dad immediately married the coworker he claimed to have
214just met. Her mother reciprocated with her own stream of men. After watching
215the two of them, Rebecca had long ago made the decision to concentrate on her
216future, to use their love life catastrophes as inspiration. Her future was her
217escape and she wouldn't allow someone, dysfunctional parents or a boyfriend, to
218screw that up for her.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
219Besides, her love for animals, especially dogs, was the one thing Rebecca knew
220without question. Taking care of them, healing them would save her. She looked
221to it as her salvation from an otherwise dreary, miserable life. She knew
222veterinary school would be a long haul, but she was willing to put in the tough
223hours. Maybe someday have her own clinic. That and a pack of dogs, a couple of
224horses, some cats, too. Her mom wouldn't even let her have a small dog in their
225post-divorce condo. It was just as well. Not having someone she was obligated
226to, had made it easier to leave for college and live on campus. Same theory
227went for not having someone to hold her back, distract her from her dream.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
228When her mom asked if she was coming home for Thanksgiving, Rebecca's first
229inclination was to blurt out that she didn't have a home. But her mom wouldn't
230have understood. And she certainly wouldn't have allowed Rebecca to travel
231halfway across the country with Dixon and Patrick, so Rebecca lied.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/><i class="calibre8">No, not really a lie.</i><br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
232She simply told her mom that her dad had asked her to spend Thanksgiving with
233his new family. That was actually true. He had asked her to join them on their
234extravagant Thanksgiving trip to Jamaica. It wasn't Rebecca's fault that her
235mom hadn't checked it out, that she would rather swallow fire than talk to her
236ex-husband.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
237By the time Rebecca made her way back to the table, Patrick had gotten a
238Cinnabon for each of them. From the look on Dixon's face she knew Patrick was
239making him wait for her.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/><i class="calibre8">Add dependable and courteous to that list.</i><br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
240It made Rebecca smile just as Andy Williams started singing, "I'll be Home
241for Christmas." The mall must have the same Christmas CD collection that
242Dixon owned.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
243Dixon was singing the words to "I'll be Home for Christmas" as she
244set down his Red Bull and coffees for her and Patrick.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
245She barely sat down and he bit off a mouthful of cinnamon roll while popping
246the tab on his drink. Her friend was charming and talented and witty and
247totally oblivious to anyone else when he was obsessed. Which was the reason
248they were here at the mall on the day after Thanksgiving. His latest obsession
249involved the red backpack at his feet.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
250"Chad and Tyler are already here."<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
251He waved at them across the food court but they even didn't look his way.
252Typical, but Rebecca didn't point out to Dixon that the two jocks still treated
253him like an elementary school tag-along. The four of them had gone to school
254together up until Rebecca's mom dragged her away to Connecticut. Dixon chose
255West Haven for college partly to be with Rebecca but as soon as he came home to
256Minnesota, Chad and Tyler could draw him into their escapades with a simple
257phone call.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
258Rebecca noticed they both carried red backpacks identical to Dixon's. What did
259he get himself into this time? She pulled off her coat and let it hang over the
260back of her chair. She usually stayed away from Dixon's adventures. She wiped
261at her bangs that were pasted to her forehead and stretched her back expecting
262it to ache from the tattooed man's elbow.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
263"We agreed to start on the third floor and work our way down."<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
264"What exactly is it you guys are doing?" Patrick asked.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
265Rebecca wanted to kick him under the table. Dixon took on causes like they were
266T-shirts with slogans that he changed every other week. Most likely this was
267Chad and Tyler's idea. Dixon read Vince Flynn novels and superhero comic
268books—Batman was currently his favorite. He did a cool imitation of Homer
269Simpson and knew all the characters from <i class="calibre8">Lord of the Rings</i>. Not only
270could he find Venus, and sometimes Mars, in the night sky, he could name all
271three stars in Orion's Belt. When he told Rebecca he had decided to major in
272cyber-crime, she couldn't imagine him stepping out of his fantasy world long
273enough to deal with real life criminals. He was a smart, quirky guy and Rebecca
274hoped he'd realize soon that he didn't need Chad and Tyler.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
275"Do you realize that eighty percent of toys sold in the U.S.A. are made in
276China?" Dixon told Patrick as he stuffed another piece of cinnamon roll
277into his mouth. "And that's just toys. Don't even get me started about
278other products. Like those cute little patriotic flag pins everyone puts on
279their lapels…made in China." He drew out the phrase like it was all the
280proof he needed to substantiate his argument. Never mind that it sounded like
281he had memorized it from some pamphlet.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
282Patrick glanced at Rebecca as he sipped his coffee. She winced, wanting to tell
283him it was too late.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
284"Over a half million production jobs were outsourced to other countries
285last year," Dixon continued. "Just to make everyday products that we
286can't live without."<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
287"Like your new iPhone," Rebecca said pointing to the gadget in
288Dixon's shirt pocket, the earbuds a constant fixture dangling around his neck.
289"Made in China but you can't live without it."<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
290"These are different." He rolled his eyes for Patrick as if saying
291she didn't know what she was talking about. "Besides, this was a gift, a
292reward, in exchange for lugging around this backpack all day."<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
293"Ahh," Rebecca said and didn't have to add that she knew there had to
294be a catch.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
295"And I can live without it, Miss Smartypants," he added.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
296"Really?" Rebecca raised an eyebrow to challenge him.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
297"Of course."<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
298She put out her hand. "Then loan it to me for the day. You owe me for
299losing my cell phone."<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
300"I didn't lose it. I just haven't remembered where I placed it."<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
301But already Dixon's smile disappeared as if he was trying to contemplate life
302without immediate access and communication to the world. Just when she thought
303he couldn't bear to relinquish it, he pulled the cord from around his neck and
304slid the cord and the iPhone across the table to her. The smile reappeared.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
305"Don't break it. I just got it."<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
306"What about the backpack?" Patrick asked.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
307Both Rebecca and Dixon looked at him as though they completely forgot what they
308had been talking about. Patrick pointed to the pack at Dixon's feet.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
309"What's the deal with the backpack?" he asked again.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
310"That, my friend, contains the secret weapon." Dixon was back to his
311infomercial. "Inside is an ingenious contraption that will emit a wireless
312signal. Completely harmless," he waved his hand, "but enough
313interference to mess up a few computer systems. Wake up a few of these
314retailers. Last time I was home Chad and Tyler took me to a rally with this
315cool professor at UMN, drives a Harley, one of the big ones."<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
316Rebecca couldn't help but smile. Dixon wouldn't know a Harley from a Yamaha,
317but she didn't say anything.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
318"This is a guy who's been in the trenches, knows what he's talking about.
319You know, he's been to the Middle East, Afghanistan, Russia, China. Professor
320Ryan says that until we hit people in the almighty pocketbook nobody's gonna
321care that we outsource hundreds of thousands of jobs every year or that the
322southern invasion is stealing twice that many jobs right here, right out from
323under us."<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
324"Southern invasion?" It was Rebecca's turn to roll her eyes at Dixon.
325She'd lived through many of his obsessions and humored him by listening to all
326of his rants, but once in a while she had to let him know she couldn't take him
327seriously. Next week Dixon would probably move on to saving beached whales.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
328"So why the padlock?" Patrick asked, still interested.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
329Dixon shrugged like it didn't matter, that the padlock was a minor point and
330besides, he was finished with his spiel. Rebecca recognized the look. He was
331ready and impatient, looking over his shoulder, concerned with finding Chad and
332Tyler. That's when she knew this idea was probably theirs. Not Dixon's. But
333he'd go along, wanting to be friends with the cool guys, the high school jocks
334he grew up following around. They were always getting Dixon in trouble and she
335didn't understand why he kept going back for more. Maybe another semester away
336at college, away from them, would help.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
337One thing about Dixon, he was there for his friends. Rebecca could account for
338that. In the early days of her mom and dad's divorce Dixon was always there for
339her, just a phone call away, telling her it had absolutely nothing to do with
340her, reassuring her, making her laugh when it was the last thing she thought
341she'd ever do again.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
342Dixon's iPhone started playing the theme song from <i class="calibre8">Batman</i> and she slid
343it back over.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
344"It hasn't even been five minutes—" she started.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
345"Hey, I can't help it, I'm a popular guy."<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
346But within seconds of answering Dixon's face went from cocky and confident to
347panic.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
348"I'll be there as soon as I can."<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
349"What's wrong?" Rebecca sat forward. The mall noise had amplified.
350Somewhere behind them a PA system was announcing Santa's arrival.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
351"That was my granddad." Dixon's face had gone white. "They just
352took Nanna to the hospital. She may have had a heart attack."<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
353"Oh my God, Dixon."<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
354"You want us to go with you?" Patrick was already pulling on his
355jacket.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
356"Yeah, I guess," Dixon said, trying to stand but stumbling over the
357backpack at his feet. "Oh crap." He pivoted around trying to look
358beyond the crowd. "I promised Chad and Tyler." He picked up the
359backpack with a pained look and dropped it on the table as if the weight of it
360was suddenly too much.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
361"Don't worry about it," Rebecca said, grabbing the pack, surprised at
362how heavy it was but sliding it up over her shoulder as if it were no problem.
363"I just need to walk around with it, right?"<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
364"I can't ask you to do that."<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
365"You're not asking. I'm offering. Now go."<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
366"How will you get home?"<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
367"Patrick and I will figure it out." She gave Dixon a one-armed hug,
368all she could manage with the awkward weight of the backpack.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
369He handed her the iPhone and she tried to wave him off, but he insisted,
370"No, a deal is a deal."<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
371They watched him disappear into the crowd as a family of four took over their
372bistro table. She and Patrick made plans to meet by the Gap in an hour.
373Rebecca's mind was on Dixon's grandmother while she stopped at the restroom.
374She had known Mrs. Lee since she was a little girl. She always treated Rebecca
375as though she were a member of the family, this time even giving Rebecca their
376daughter's old bedroom.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
377"I know it's a bit outdated, but I couldn't bear to change out the
378wallpaper," Mrs. Lee had told Rebecca as she showed her around the room,
379explaining that daisies had been her daughter's favorite.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
380Rebecca was clear across the food court by the time she realized she had
381forgotten Dixon's backpack hanging on the restroom door. She swore under her
382breath as she turned around, hurrying back to retrieve it.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
383She saw Chad and hoped he didn't notice her. He was headed in the opposite
384direction. She was watching him when the explosion happened. Everything moved
385in slow motion. She was paralyzed by a flash of red-and-white light engulfing
386Chad's body. The sound of the blast reached her ears just as glass shattered
387and fire erupted.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
388An invisible force knocked her completely off her feet. She felt hot air lift
389her. Pressure crushed against her chest. She slammed back down to the floor
390with a rain of metal and glass and wet debris showering over her, stinging her
391skin and scorching her lungs. She couldn't move. Something heavy lay on top of
392her. Pinning her down. It hurt to breathe. She could smell singed hair.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
393When she opened her eyes the first thing she saw was an arm ripped apart and
394lying within a foot of her. For a panicked second she thought it was her own
395until she saw the green dragon tattoo splattered with blood.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
396It looked like it was snowing, glittery pieces floating down. Rebecca closed
397her eyes again. Through the moans she recognized Doris Day's voice, singing, <i class="calibre8">"Let
398it snow…"</i><br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
399And then the screams began.<br class="calibre9"/><br class="calibre9"/></p>
400
401<p class="calibre10"><a name="ch02"></a><strong class="calibre7">CHAPTER</strong><b class="calibre7"><br class="calibre6"/><strong class="calibre7">2</strong></b></p>
402
403<p class="MsoNormal1"><i class="calibre8">Newburgh Heights, Virginia</i><br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
404Maggie O'Dell slid a pan of stuffed mushroom caps into the oven then stopped to
405watch out her kitchen window. In the backyard Harvey entertained their guests,
406leaping into the air to catch his Frisbee. The white Labrador retriever was
407showing off. And her guests were humoring the big dog, laughing and chasing him
408through the fallen leaves. Three adult professionals acting like kids. Maggie
409smiled. Nothing like a dog to bring out the inner child in everyone.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
410"This is all quite an accomplishment," her friend, Gwen Patterson
411said, trying to point with her chin while her hands stayed busy chopping onion.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
412At first Maggie thought her friend meant the spread of munchies the two of them
413had prepared. It was a feast that looked more like a cocktail reception than a
414college football big-screen marathon. But Gwen wasn't talking about the food.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
415"I mean getting us all here together," Gwen explained. "All of
416us in one place without a crime scene…or a corpse."<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
417"Yes, but there's free food and beer," Maggie said. "That's
418usually enough."<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
419"True." Gwen smiled. "You never did tell me why your brother
420couldn't make it."<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
421"Guess he got a better offer," Maggie said, relieved that her back
422was to her friend. She didn't want Gwen to see the disappointment. It was best
423to keep things light. No big deal. Her psychologist friend would poke and probe
424if Maggie wasn't careful. "Hey, I can't expect to drop into his life and
425have an instant relationship."<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
426She risked a glance over her shoulder only to see that her instinct was right.
427Gwen had stopped chopping and was watching her.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
428"There's always Christmas," Maggie added, trying to sound positive
429when she knew it was a long shot. She hadn't even brought up the subject with
430him. One rejection per phone call seemed sufficient.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
431"Do you think we have enough food?" Maggie wanted off the subject.
432This was supposed to be a day for relaxation. No stress. Just watching college
433football with friends, sharing a beer and some killer salsa.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
434"This is plenty," Gwen reassured her and went back to chopping.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
435Maggie stood with hands on her hips, assessing the island countertop that
436showed off trays and platters of finger foods. She had never thrown a party
437before. She didn't attend many either. In fact, she rarely invited guests to
438her house. Funny how getting an extended warranty on life had a way of making a
439person do things she thought she'd never do. Less than two months ago Maggie
440and her boss, FBI assistant director Kyle Cunningham had been exposed to the
441Ebola virus. Maggie had survived. Cunningham hadn't been so lucky.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
442"I don't know if we have enough. I've done a couple of road trips with
443Racine," Maggie said, trying to ward off the memories of being confined to
444an isolation ward and the helplessness of watching her boss go from a vibrant
445leader and mentor to a skeletal invalid sprouting tubes and lifelines. She closed
446her eyes, again keeping her back to Gwen as she grabbed onto the counter,
447pretending to survey their spread.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/><i class="calibre8">Keep it light</i>, she reminded herself. <i class="calibre8">Relax. Breathe. Enjoy.</i><br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
448"You'd never guess by looking at Racine but she can put away a pile of
449food."<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
450As if summoned, Julia Racine came in the back door, her short spiky blond hair
451tousled, her sweatshirt sporting a few dry leaves, a smudge of dirt on the knee
452of her blue jeans. The scent of fall trailed in with her. She looked more like
453a punk rock star than a D.C. homicide detective.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
454"Your dog cheats," Racine announced, running her fingers through her
455hair as her eyes took in the kitchen activities. "He knows all the
456shortcuts," she said but the carefree frolic in her voice disappeared as
457she glanced from Maggie rinsing celery at the sink to Gwen chopping onion at
458the island counter.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
459Maggie could tell in an instant Racine wasn't comfortable, not just in Maggie's
460kitchen, but in any kitchen. The tall, lean detective crossed her arms and
461stayed pressed in a corner. She'd probably rather be back outside with Harvey,
462Ben and Tully. Racine wasn't a woman used to the company of other women. Maggie
463understood that. Too many hours spent with male colleagues. In many ways Julia
464Racine reminded Maggie of a younger version of herself.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
465"Back behind you," Maggie said, pointing to the cabinet Racine leaned
466against. "There're some white square appetizer plates. Could you pull out
467a stack and put them on the counter. Some glasses, too."<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
468Racine seemed startled by the request but Maggie moved on to her next task
469without further instruction. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Racine
470recover and nonchalantly get the plates and glasses.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
471Maggie plopped down the freshly washed bunch of celery on a paper towel next to
472Gwen's cutting board. She pulled out a couple of stalks, handing one to Racine
473as she munched on her own. This time when the detective leaned against the
474counter she didn't look quite as rigid and out of place.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
475"So," Racine said, taking a bite of the celery and letting the word
476hang there. Obviously she was more comfortable. "What's the deal with you
477and Benjamin Platt?"<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
478Maggie glanced at Gwen.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
479"That's actually a good question," Gwen said then shrugged in defense
480for joining in.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
481Maggie realized she might regret making Racine feel comfortable in her kitchen.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
482"He's quite a hottie," Racine continued without prompting. "I
483mean if you're into that soldier of fortune type."<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
484"He's a doctor," Maggie found herself countering.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
485"An army doctor," Gwen added.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
486Maggie stopped what she was doing, ignoring Gwen but getting a good look at
487Racine, making eye contact briefly before the detective felt it necessary to
488straighten the plates and glasses she had put on the counter minutes ago.
489Maggie's first impulse was to wonder if the young, tough-as-nails detective was
490jealous…of Platt, that is. Not Maggie. Several years ago when Racine and Maggie
491first met, Racine admitted she was attracted to Maggie. She had even made a
492pass at her. Somehow the two had gotten past it all and became friends. Just
493friends. Though in times like this, Maggie wondered if Racine still hoped for
494more.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
495Maybe it was due to a temporary setback in Racine's own love life. Racine
496hadn't even mentioned her most recent lover, though Maggie had told her to
497bring a guest. Instead of asking about the elusive lover, who, if Maggie
498remembered correctly, was an army sergeant and soldier of fortune herself,
499Maggie simply said, "Ben's good company."<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
500Maggie's cell phone interrupted any further discussion. She found herself relieved.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
501"This is Maggie O'Dell."<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
502As soon as Maggie heard her new boss's voice, the muscles in her neck went
503tight. Her holiday weekend off was about to end.<br class="calibre9"/><br class="calibre9"/></p>
504
505<p class="calibre10"><a name="ch03"></a><strong class="calibre7">CHAPTER</strong><b class="calibre7"><br class="calibre6"/><strong class="calibre7">3</strong></b></p>
506
507<p class="MsoNormal1"><i class="calibre8">Bloomington, Minnesota</i><br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
508They called him the Project Manager. He didn't mind. It was better than some of
509the names he'd been called in the past. Like John Doe #2. Project Manager was
510definitely better than that. He still bristled a bit at the John Doe #2 label.
511He was always in charge. Never number two. Didn't matter that being mistaken as
512number two had been to his advantage. Besides, that was almost fifteen years
513ago.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
514The name on his new driver's license was Robert Asante and he took time to
515correct anyone who didn't pronounce it accurately.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
516"Ah-sontay," he would say. "Sicilian," he would add, like
517it meant something to him when, in fact, he simply wanted them to believe his
518olive complexion was from Italian ancestors and not from his Arab father.
519Though it was his white American mother whom he truly owed for his deadliest
520disguise, indigo-blue eyes. Anyone who doubted his ancestry usually put all
521hesitation aside when they looked into his eyes. After all, how many blue-eyed
522Arab terrorists could there possibly be?<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
523And how many of them would be wearing a gold wedding band on his left ring
524finger? Everyone who asked to see his ID also got a glance at the photo
525inserted on the opposite side of his wallet, the photo of him with his family,
526a beautiful blond woman and two little girls. Even the wireless earbud in
527Asante's right ear, the leather jacket he wore with jeans, a T-shirt and
528designer running shoes portrayed him as an all-American businessman. Minor
529details that he knew made all the difference in the world. Details that had
530earned him the nickname, the Project Manager.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
531He retreated to the parking lot and now stayed inside his car, parked across
532the street, a safe distance from the shopping mall. Close enough to hear only
533the echoes of the blasts and far enough away to avoid the initial chaos. This
534particular parking lot was also out of view of any security cameras. He had
535double-checked during one of his many practice runs. Although it hardly
536mattered. Already the car's windshield was filled with snow, obscuring the view
537inside if anyone happened by.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
538Earlier, he had watched on the small handheld computer monitor as each of his
539carriers moved into place. Three separate carriers. Three separate bleeps in
540his ear. Three separate blinks of green light skipping across the computer
541screen as he tracked them.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
542Tracking them had been the easy part. Without them realizing it, Asante had
543planted GPS systems on each carrier. Now he detonated each one with a simple
544touch of a button. His well-planned mission reduced to nothing more than a
545touch-screen video game, blowing up each carrier. One after another, leaving
546only seconds in between.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
547First CARRIER 1, then CARRIER 2, and finally CARRIER 3.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
548He could hear the echo of each blast. Each explosion confirmed each detonation.
549Confirmed success of the mission.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
550There was nothing like this adrenaline rush. It was better than drugs. Better
551than sex, better than a well-aged single malt Scotch. His fingertips still
552tingled. Okay, maybe it was only the frigid weather.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
553He sat back against the crackling-cold vinyl of the car seat. After hundreds of
554hours, weeks, months of planning, step one was complete. He took several deep
555breaths, not bothered by seeing his own breath as he exhaled. Not feeling the
556cold, conscious of the adrenaline still pumping through his veins.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
557He was ready to call in confirmation. Then he heard it in his ear. Faint at
558first.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
559"Bleep."<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
560A pause. Maybe the monitor had malfunctioned.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
561Another bleep.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/><i class="calibre8">Impossible.</i><br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
562He shot forward in the car seat. Pulled up the computer monitor.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
563The machine gave another bleep. Then a <i class="calibre8">bleep, bleep, bleep</i>.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
564A green light started blinking across the screen in unison with the annoying
565sound.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
566Asante brought the small computer screen close to his face until it was almost
567touching his nose. And yet he still couldn't believe his eyes.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
568One of his carriers was still alive.<br class="calibre9"/><br class="calibre9"/></p>
569
570<p class="calibre10"><a name="ch04"></a><strong class="calibre7">CHAPTER</strong><b class="calibre7"><br class="calibre6"/><strong class="calibre7">4</strong></b></p>
571
572<p class="MsoNormal1"><i class="calibre8">Mall of America</i><br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
573Patrick Murphy was on the escalator going down when the first explosion rocked
574the steps beneath him. Shoppers clutched the handrails and looked around,
575startled and curious, but no one panicked. After all, Santa had been due at any
576moment. Maybe the mall had some theatrical entrance planned that included
577fireworks. The place was certainly big enough. Patrick had never been in a
578four-story mall that had its own amusement park, theater and aquarium. The
579place was amazing.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
580No, the first blast went off without any panic. Only curious looks and turns on
581the escalator. No one panicked. Not until the second blast. Then there was no
582mistaking, something was wrong.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
583Without thinking Patrick twisted around. Instinct drove him in the opposite
584direction. He tried to fight his way up the down escalator, shouldering past
585shoppers, three thick, who were frantically headed down, shoving their way,
586using heavy shopping bags to pry through. Patrick tried to climb, pressing
587forward. He grabbed onto the handrail, almost losing his balance. The handrail
588was moving in the opposite direction, too. He tried to use his body to push
589against the crowd. He had a swimmer's build, strong broad shoulders, tapered
590waist, long legs and a stamina and patience that came from physical discipline.
591But this was impossible, like swimming against a current, being caught up in a
592rip tide.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
593A linebacker of a man dressed in a parka told Patrick to get the hell out of
594the way while he stiff-armed him in the ribs. A teenaged girl screamed in his
595face, paralyzed and clutching the handrail, not allowing Patrick to pass.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
596The third blast was closer, its vibration almost rippling the steps of the
597escalator. That's when Patrick gave in. He turned back around and allowed the
598mob to carry him down the escalator. But as soon as they reached the bottom
599Patrick forced his way to the up escalator, grateful to find it practically
600empty. He raced up the moving steps. By now he could smell sulfur and smoke but
601continued to climb. Maybe his training actually had made a difference, taken
602hold of him without notice. It wouldn't be the first time he relied on gut
603instinct. Usually he trusted it. Lately he wasn't so sure.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
604Within the last year he had changed majors and with it his entire future. Not a
605good idea your senior year of college. It was an expensive undertaking for a
606guy working and scraping for every credit hour dollar. What started as a
607vocation and change of major had actually turned into a passion. All thanks to
608a father he'd never met. But Patrick knew it wasn't the extra classes in Fire
609Science that now made him race toward smoke. It probably wasn't even all those
610volunteer hours at the fire department that kicked him into full-throttle
611instinct, although firefighters were trained to push their way into burning
612buildings when everyone is clamoring to get out.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
613But this drive, this urgency, this gut instinct that had taken control of him
614and propelled him toward the explosions, had little to do with his new training
615and everything to do with Rebecca. He had left her back on the third floor at
616the food court, back where it sounded like the explosions had come from. He
617couldn't leave without her. Had to make sure she was okay. How many times had
618she checked on him? Made sure he was okay? All those nights working at Champs.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
619"You don't look so good," she'd say in between orders and refills.
620Then at the end of the evening after they were finished cleaning up, both
621tired, dead on their feet and needing to get back to study, she'd hop up onto a
622bar stool in front of him and say to him, "So tell me what's going
623on." And she'd sit quietly and listen, really listen, eyes intent and
624sympathetic. She'd listen like no one else ever had.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
625Patrick started to feel the spray from the sprinklers above and yet the smoke
626still stung his eyes. He pulled out his sunglasses then he yanked the hem of
627his T-shirt up over his nose. He stayed close to the wall. Let a rush of
628hysterical shoppers race by. Then he pressed forward again, slowly, taking in everything
629through the gray haze of his sunglasses. He tried not to trip over the debris,
630some from the explosion, other stuff that people had dropped or left behind:
631half-eaten food and spilled shopping bags. That's when Patrick thought about
632the backpacks.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
633He couldn't forget the bad feeling he had listening to Dixon Lee talk about
634their innocent prank. The whole time Dixon explained their scheme to send
635wireless static, some sort of interference that would play havoc with the
636retail shops' computer systems, Patrick kept thinking something didn't sound
637right. He should have listened to his gut instinct.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
638Why would anyone put a padlock on a backpack just to carry it around the mall
639and mess up a few computers?<br class="calibre9"/><br class="calibre9"/></p>
640
641<p class="calibre10"><a name="ch05"></a><strong class="calibre7">CHAPTER</strong><b class="calibre7"><br class="calibre6"/><strong class="calibre7">5</strong></b></p>
642
643<p class="MsoNormal1">Rebecca stumbled and quickly
644reminded herself to not look down. She didn't want to see what she had bumped
645into this time. She continued to wipe at her face, each glance at her fingers
646found blood, some not her own. She tried raking her fingers through her long
647hair, but kept cutting her fingertips on pieces of glass and metal.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
648She was cold and shaking, her vision blurred, her heart hammering so hard it
649hurt to breathe. Her throat felt clogged, her tongue swollen. She must have
650bitten it. And when she did suck in gasps of air, the sting of acid, mixed with
651the sickly scent of sulfur and cinnamon, gagged her.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
652A small gray-haired man slammed into Rebecca, almost toppling her. She looked
653back to see him holding a hand up to a bloody pulp where his ear once was.
654Other shoppers pushed and shoved. Some of them also injured and bleeding. All
655of them in a hurry to flee even if their shock tangled their legs and confused
656their sense of direction. They dropped everything they didn't need. Rebecca
657stepped in a puddle she hoped was soda or coffee but knew it could be blood.
658She tried to sidestep another and instead, skidded on a slice of pizza.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/><i class="calibre8">Slow down,</i> she told herself. Not an easy task with all the chaos racing
659by and bouncing off her.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
660Toddlers were crying. Mothers scooped them up, leaving behind carriers,
661strollers, diaper bags and stuffed animals. There were screams of panic, some
662of pain. Smoke streamed from the blast areas where small fires licked at
663storefronts despite the sprinkler system misting down from the high ceiling.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
664The PA system announced a lockdown. Something about "an incident in the
665mall." And through all the noise and chaos Rebecca could still hear the
666holiday music.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/><i class="calibre8">Was it just in her head?</i><br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
667She found it macabre yet comforting to have Bing Crosby telling her he'd be
668home for Christmas. It was the only piece of normalcy that she had to hang on
669to as she stumbled over discarded food, shards of glass, broken tables and
670puddles of blood. There were bodies, too, some injured and unable to get up.
671Some not moving at all.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
672She didn't know what to do, where to go. Shock was taking over. The shivers
673that overtook her entire body came in uncontrollable waves. Rebecca knew enough
674from her pre-vet studies to recognize the signs of shock. The symptoms were
675similar for dogs and human beings—rapid heartbeat, confusion, weak pulse,
676sudden cold and eventual collapse.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
677She wrapped her arms around her body. That's when she discovered it. The pain
678shot up her left arm. How could she not have noticed it before this? A
679three-to-four-inch piece of glass stuck out of her coat. Without seeing the
680entry she knew it had pierced into her arm. The sight of it made her nauseated.
681Her legs threatened to collapse and she caught herself against a handrail so
682that she didn't tumble to the floor. Still, she slid to her knees.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/><i class="calibre8">Don't look at it. Don't panic. Breathe.</i><br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
683She saw a policeman and felt a wave of relief until she recognized the man was
684mall security. No gun.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/><i class="calibre8">Yes, that's right. She knew that.</i><br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
685She'd worked for a pet shop in a local mall her senior year of high school.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
686He was close enough now that Rebecca could hear his frantic sputters into his
687handheld walkie-talkie.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
688"It's bad. It's really bad," he said. He looked young. Probably not
689much older than Rebecca. "I don't see anyone else with red
690backpacks."<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
691Even through the shock, it sent a chill through Rebecca.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/><i class="calibre8">The backpacks.</i><br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
692She tried to stand, tried to twist around and look toward the direction where
693she had last seen Chad.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/><i class="calibre8">No Chad. Not even a wounded Chad stumbling around like her.</i><br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
694All Rebecca could see was a scorched wall. Smoke. Bits and pieces. A pile that
695looked like a heap of smoldering black garbage.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/><i class="calibre8">Chad?</i><br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
696She felt dizzy. Her throat tightened. The nausea threatened to gag her.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/><i class="calibre8">No, she wouldn't think about it. She couldn't think about it.</i><br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
697Rebecca looked in the other direction. Standing now, gripping the handrail with
698white knuckles and wobbling to her feet. She could see a black hole where the
699women's restroom used to be. The restroom where she had left Dixon's backpack,
700hanging on the door of the first stall. The backpack that she was supposed to
701be carrying.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/><i class="calibre8">Oh God. That's what exploded. The backpacks.</i><br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
702She slid back to her knees, the realization hitting her hard as she eased
703herself onto the floor. There was something sticky underneath her. She didn't
704even care. How close had she come to becoming a smoldering pile of garbage?<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
705Somewhere from inside her coat she could hear the theme to <i class="calibre8">Batman</i>, and
706amidst the stampeding feet and the moans surrounding her, the music seemed not
707at all surprising. In this bizarre version of reality the theme to <i class="calibre8">Batman</i>
708seemed to fit in perfectly.<br class="calibre9"/><br class="calibre9"/></p>
709
710<p class="calibre10"><a name="ch06"></a><strong class="calibre7">CHAPTER</strong><b class="calibre7"><br class="calibre6"/><strong class="calibre7">6</strong></b></p>
711
712<p class="MsoNormal1"><i class="calibre8">Newburgh Heights, Virginia</i><br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
713This wasn't at all the day Maggie O'Dell had planned.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
714R.J. Tully turned on the TV in Maggie's great room but instead of listening to
715ESPN's pregame predictions Maggie could hear bits of news as her partner
716flipped from one cable news channel to another.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
717"There's nothing yet," Tully reported to the others all gathered
718around the counter that separated the kitchen from the great room.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
719"A.D. Kunze said it just happened," Maggie told them. "Local
720police haven't arrived at the scene yet."<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
721"Then how does he already know it was a terrorist attack?" Benjamin
722Platt asked.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
723"He doesn't, but the governor's a personal friend." Maggie tried to
724relay what her new boss had just told her—which wasn't much—while she jotted
725down a list of what she needed to pack.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
726"So he calls in the FBI?" Julia Racine joined in.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
727Maggie shrugged. The nice thing about having friends who were colleagues was
728they understood better than anyone else what the job entailed. The bad thing
729about having friends who were colleagues was that they couldn't shut off being
730colleagues.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
731"They think there were at least two explosions inside the mall,"
732Maggie said. "Possibly three. They believe there may be more
733targets."<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
734"But why send you?" Gwen didn't bother to hide her irritation.
735"You're a profiler, for God's sake, not a bomb specialist."<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
736"They'll need to draw up a profile immediately, so they know who to start
737looking for," Tully said, remote in his hand, still pointing it at the TV
738from across the room. Still flipping channels though he had the TV on MUTE now.
739"They've got to put pieces together as soon as possible before any
740eyewitnesses start second-guessing what they saw or heard."<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
741Maggie glanced at Tully, looking for signs that he might be disappointed he
742wouldn't be going along. They had been a team before budget cuts and before his
743suspension. Paid suspension. It was protocol anytime an agent used deadly
744force. Less than two months ago Tully had shot dead a man he had once
745considered a friend. The agency would find it justified. Maggie knew Tully
746would, too…eventually. Just not yet.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
747"Okay, so Kunze needs a profiler on the scene. That doesn't answer why it
748has to be Maggie." Gwen fidgeted with the knife that had recently been
749chopping vegetables. Maggie watched her friend stab the knife's tip into the
750wooden cutting board, then pull it out and stab it again like a person tapping
751a pen out of nervous energy. "Are you sure you should even be
752flying?"<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
753This made Maggie smile. There was a fifteen-year age difference between the two
754women and sometimes Gwen found it difficult to hide her maternal instinct.
755Although it made Maggie smile, all the others were looking at her now with
756concern. The same case that had garnered Tully a suspension had landed Maggie
757in an isolation ward at USAMRIID (the United States Army Medical Research
758Institute of Infectious Diseases) under the care of Colonel Benjamin Platt.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
759"I'm fine," Maggie said. "Ask my doctor if you don't believe
760me," and she pointed at Ben who remained serious, not ready to agree just
761yet.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
762"Kunze could send someone else," Gwen insisted. "You know why
763he's sending you."<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
764Maggie could hear the anger edging around the concern in her friend's voice.
765Evidently so could everyone else. Harvey even looked up from his corner, dog
766bone gripped between big paws. The silence was made more awkward by the oven
767timer that reminded them of what the day had started out to be.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
768Maggie reached over and tapped several of the oven's digital buttons, shutting
769off heat and sound.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
770More silence.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
771"Okay," Racine finally broke in. "I give up. I seem to be the
772only one who hasn't gotten the latest news alert. Why is the new assistant
773director—"<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
774"Interim director," Gwen interrupted to correct.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
775"Yeah right. Whatever. Why's he sending O'Dell? You make it sound like
776it's something personal. What have I missed?"<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
777Maggie held Gwen's eyes. She wanted her to see the impatience. This was
778bordering on embarrassing. People in Minnesota may have lost their lives and
779Gwen was worried about department politics and imagined grudges.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
780Tully was the one who finally answered Racine. "Assistant Director Ray
781Kunze told Maggie and me that we were both negligent on the George Sloane
782case."<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
783"Negligent?"<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
784"He blames them," Gwen blurted out.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
785"He didn't say that," Maggie insisted although she remembered the
786sting of the words he did use.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
787"He insinuated," Gwen corrected herself. "He insinuated that
788Maggie and Tully, quote, 'contributed to Cunningham's death.'"<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
789"He told us we have some proving to do," Tully added.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
790Maggie couldn't believe how calm he was, explaining it over his shoulder as he
791kept an eye on the TV, as if he was simply updating the scores of the day. The
792subject did not have the same effect on Maggie and Gwen knew that. Perhaps Gwen
793had even picked up Maggie's initial anger and carried it for her when Maggie
794had become weary of the burden. It wouldn't have been so bad had Kunze not
795triggered a guilt Maggie had already saddled herself with. Some days she still
796blamed herself for Cunningham's death even without Kunze's accusations of
797contributable negligence.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
798Her psychology background should have reassured her that she was experiencing a
799simple case of survivor's guilt. But sometimes, usually late at night, alone
800and staring up at her bedroom ceiling, she'd think about Cunningham getting
801infected, both of them exposed to the same virus. Just the image of his
802deteriorating body and how quickly he had gone from strong and vital to
803helpless, caused a sinking hollow feeling in the pit of her stomach, an ache
804accompanied by nausea. That feeling was very real, physically real. Cunningham
805was dead. She was alive. How was that possible?<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
806"So he sends you off to Minnesota to appease his friend the
807governor," Gwen said. "You. When there's probably someone there in
808the Minneapolis field office."<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
809"Gwen." Maggie bit her lower lip. She wanted to tell her to stop.
810This wasn't something to discuss with or in front of Ben and Julia, or even
811Tully.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
812"It's just not right."<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
813The sudden volume of the TV drew all their attention as Tully pointed and
814punched until it was loud enough to hear the FOX news alert:<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
815"There have been reports of a possible explosion from inside Mall of
816America," an unseen voice announced while on the screen a bird's-eye view
817appeared of the expansive mall. It was, perhaps, stock film since the parking
818lot was not full and the trees had green leaves.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
819"911 operators have experienced a flood of calls," the disembodied voice
820continued. "Emergency personnel, as well as our news helicopter, are on
821their way so we have no details as of this moment.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
822"We can tell you that Mall of America is the largest mall in America. More
823than 150,000 shoppers were expected to visit the mall today, traditionally
824called Black Friday, the busiest shopping day of the year."<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
825Inside Maggie's great room there was silence. No more accusations. No more
826questions. No more arguments.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
827Ben crossed his arms as he stood beside her, shifting his weight only slightly
828so that his shoulder brushed against Maggie.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
829"Forget the politics," he said calmly, quietly, an obvious attempt to
830reassure her. "Just go do what you do best."<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
831Before Maggie could respond or ask what he meant, he added, "Go get these
832bastards."<br class="calibre9"/><br class="calibre9"/></p>
833
834<p class="calibre10"><a name="ch07"></a><strong class="calibre7">CHAPTER</strong><b class="calibre7"><br class="calibre6"/><strong class="calibre7">7</strong></b></p>
835
836<p class="MsoNormal1"><i class="calibre8">Mall of America</i><br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
837"We've got a problem," Asante growled into his wireless headset. He
838avoided people in the parking lot, some standing in the frigid cold just
839staring while others ran to their vehicles.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
840"What's the problem?"<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
841Asante could barely hear the response.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
842"We've got one carrier still on the move."<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
843There was silence and Asante thought perhaps the connection had faded out.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
844"How is that possible?" came the reply.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
845"You tell me."<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
846"There were three blasts. No one could survive that."<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
847"You watched them?" Asante asked with careful accusation.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
848"Of course." But the conviction wavered against the hint of Asante's
849irritation.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
850"You saw each one?"<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
851"Yes. I saw all three arrive in the food court area." Hesitation,
852then the admission. "Carrier #3 brought two friends along. I didn't think
853it was a problem."<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
854Asante stayed silent when he wanted to remind his point man that he didn't get
855paid to think. No matter how willing, no matter how capable they appeared to
856be, Asante had learned to trust no one but himself. It was a tough lesson he
857had learned long before Oklahoma City, one that had taught him to always,
858always have cutaways like McVeigh and Nichols for each and every project no
859matter how small or large.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
860"I'm headed back in."<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
861More silence. Asante knew exactly what the man was thinking. <i class="calibre8">You must be
862insane</i>. But of course, he wouldn't dare question the Project Manager.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
863"What do you want me to do?" The question came quietly, hesitantly
864and probably with the hope that Asante would not request that he accompany him.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
865"Find out who those other two are." He could almost hear the other
866man's relief.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
867Asante continued, making his way through the cold and the snow to the back of
868the mall, toward the same exit he had used earlier to flee. Before he'd left
869the sanctuary of his getaway car, he'd exchanged his Carolina Panthers baseball
870cap for a navy blue cap with PARAMEDIC embroidered on the front. He'd also
871changed his jogging shoes for a pair of hiking boots. On purpose the boots were
872three sizes too large for him. A shoeprint could be as incriminating as a
873fingerprint and in the snow the print might be well preserved. He had already
874prepared the boots with socks in the toes, making them a comfortable enough fit
875that he could run in them if necessary.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
876The jogging shoes he'd kept and thrown into a duffel bag with everything else
877he would need including a syringe filled with a toxic cocktail he always
878carried for himself. It was one more detail, a safeguard for a project manager
879who insisted on controlling even the details of his own death if it came to
880that. Today he'd need to use it on the surviving carrier instead of on himself.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
881He had never intended to return to the scene but took every precaution if it
882became necessary. He had researched and studied the mall's routine until he
883knew it by heart. Within seconds the mall's security would come over the public
884address system announcing "an incident" and ordering a lockdown.
885Shops would pull down their storefront grates. Kiosks would close down and secure
886their merchandise. By now the sprinkler systems on the third floor would have
887been activated. Escalators and all portions of the amusement park would come to
888a screeching halt.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
889The fire department would be alerted as soon as those sprinklers opened. Asante
890expected their sirens any moment now. In fact, he was surprised he didn't hear
891them already, but the snow might slow them down. The local police would follow.
892As soon as a bomb was suspected, a bomb squad and a sniper unit would be sent.
893Mall security carried no weapons. Asante figured he had ten minutes at least,
894thirty minutes at the most, before he had to deal with a ground and air mass
895invasion of armed responders.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
896As he plodded through the snow he set his diver's watch to count down the
897seconds. Thirty minutes should be more than enough time to find the errant
898carrier and terminate him.<br class="calibre9"/><br class="calibre9"/></p>
899
900<p class="calibre10"><a name="ch08"></a><strong class="calibre7">CHAPTER</strong><b class="calibre7"><br class="calibre6"/><strong class="calibre7">8</strong></b></p>
901
902<p class="MsoNormal1">Patrick shattered the glass to
903get the fire extinguisher. Yards away, the explosion had blown out storefronts
904and ripped open brick walls, yet here it hadn't left even a crack in the glass
905case that housed the fire extinguisher. He pulled the extinguisher's pin, ready
906to use it, but found only smoke, no fire. Still, he pushed his way through the
907gray mist, thick and wet like a fog on a humid summer morning. Again, he was
908going the wrong direction. He waited until a stream of shoppers shoved by, then
909he tried to move forward.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
910Over the intercom he heard the mechanical voice repeating the same calm
911message, "There's been an incident at the mall. Please remain calm. Walk,
912don't run, toward the nearest exit." The Muzak system was still playing
913holiday songs. No one noticed either.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
914Patrick stopped to help a woman who had gotten shoved to the side. She was
915wrestling her baby out of a stroller. The infant looked unharmed but was
916screaming. The mother was wide-eyed and panicked.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
917"Oh my God, oh my God!" she kept mumbling.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
918Her hands were shaking and jerking at the blankets and straps that kept the
919baby restrained inside the stroller. She stumbled and rocked back and forth,
920losing her balance like someone who had too much to drink. Patrick noticed she
921didn't have any shoes on. Her feet were already bloodied from the shower of
922glass that glittered the floor. He looked around and discovered the three-inch
923heels tossed aside. He scooped them up and offered them to her.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
924"Your feet," he pointed.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
925She didn't seem to hear him. She didn't even look up at him. Once she had the
926baby in her arms she ran for the escalators, leaving behind the stroller, a
927diaper bag, a purse…and her shoes. She didn't notice the trail of blood her
928feet left.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
929Patrick put out one fire, a kiosk of cell phones already charred from the
930blast. He recognized a couple of stores and knew he was close to the food
931court. It had to be just around the corner. The smoke was thicker here. Harder
932to see. He had to feel alongside the wall and watch his feet. Debris littered
933the floor, slick and crunchy. He worried the rubber soles of his One Star
934high-tops might not be thick enough to withstand the larger pieces of glass and
935metal. Through the smoke he saw a sign for the restrooms. It dangled overhead
936and he realized this was where he had last seen Rebecca.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/><i class="calibre8">Finally.</i><br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
937Only Patrick couldn't see the doorway. It was gone, replaced by a huge, ragged
938hole. The wall was buckled, lopsided and charred. Bricks bulged and hung loose
939like toy building blocks tossed and shoved out from the other side. Water
940seeped from one of the holes in the wall and a smell like rotten eggs, maybe
941sewage, flooded the area. He prayed that Rebecca wasn't still inside the
942restroom when the blast went off.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
943That's when Patrick tripped, slamming himself against the sharp bricks, ripping
944the palm of his hand open, but managing to stay on his feet. When he looked
945down he saw the long dark hair first and thought he had tripped over a
946mannequin. After all, the legs were twisted and knotted together like they were
947made of plastic and were stuffed into a garbage bag. But there was nothing
948plastic about the eyes that stared up at him through the tangled hair. Her jaw
949had been torn away, leaving a wide gaping smile. Patrick's first reaction was
950to reach down to help her up. Then he jerked back when he realized she must be
951dead.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
952He took a better look at the twisted pile of legs he had tripped over and for
953the first time his head began to swim and his knees felt a bit spongy.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
954The legs were no longer connected to the rest of the woman's body.<br class="calibre9"/><br class="calibre9"/></p>
955
956<p class="calibre10"><a name="ch09"></a><strong class="calibre7">CHAPTER</strong><b class="calibre7"><br class="calibre6"/><strong class="calibre7">9</strong></b></p>
957
958<p class="MsoNormal1"><i class="calibre8">Lanoha's Nursery</i><br class="calibre6"/><i class="calibre8">Omaha, Nebraska</i><br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
959Nick Morrelli pulled out a credit card. He knew his sister Christine was
960watching him so he tried not to wince, flinch or clear his throat. All signs
961she would be looking for.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
962She had already told him that he didn't have to pay for the fresh-cut nine-foot
963Fraser fir Christmas tree. In fact, she had told him three times, leading him
964to insist, making him pretend that it was no big deal. And why would it be a
965big deal? Never mind that he had just left a prominent position with the
966Suffolk County prosecutor's office in Boston to move back to Omaha. It wasn't
967like he was fired or let go. The decision had been entirely his choice.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/><strong class="calibre7"><i class="calibre8">Choice, not impulse.</i></strong><br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
968Impulse was the word his mom and Christine used.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
969"Your father knows you love him, Nicky," his mom had said when he
970told her he was moving back to Nebraska. "He doesn't expect you to leave
971your life and be at his side."<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
972At the time Nick wanted to tell her that the old Antonio Morrelli would want
973that exactly. He'd want everyone to uproot and rearrange their lives to
974accommodate his schedule especially now when he appeared to be near death. A
975massive stroke had left Nick's father paralyzed and bedridden several years
976ago. Now his only means of communication were his eyes. Maybe it was simply
977Nick's imagination but he swore he could still see that same disappointment and
978regret in those eyes—now watery blue instead of ice blue—every single time the
979man looked at him.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
980Nick had tried most of his life to do what his father expected, tried to fill
981the huge shoes. His father had played quarterback for the Nebraska Huskers, so
982Nick made sure he played quarterback for the Nebraska Huskers, but Nick only
983played for one season. A disappointment to his father who had redshirted as a
984freshman. His father had gone to law school, so Nick went to law school, only
985he had no interest in practicing law or filling the vacancy his father had left
986for him in the law firm his father had started.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
987Nick had even run for and had been elected county sheriff, the position the
988elder Morrelli retired from as a living legend. But Nick had embarrassed his
989father, again, by tracking down a killer his father had allowed to go
990undetected under his own watch. It should have made up for all the rest. Nick
991had succeeded after all. But that wasn't the way Antonio Morrelli looked at it.
992Instead he saw it as his son embarrassing him, showing him up and making him
993look bad publicly.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
994Nick's move to Boston had probably been the first thing he had ever done on his
995own and for himself without the influence of the elder Morrelli. His father had
996never been a district attorney. Had never argued high-profile cases involving
997anything close to what Nick found himself a part of, from drug trafficking to
998double homicides. These were the types of cases Nick tackled on a regular basis
999as a Deputy County Prosecutor for Suffolk County. And yet it wasn't enough.
1000Apparently it wasn't, because here he was, returning home still searching for
1001something. Hopefully his father's approval didn't remain on that search list.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
1002It must have been what his mother was thinking. She made it sound like Nick was
1003moving back to be close to his father whose deteriorating condition would most
1004likely make this his last Christmas. And his sister, Christine, seemed to think
1005Nick had moved back to play role model to her fatherless teenaged son. That was
1006partly true. He cared about Timmy and wanted to be in the boy's life. But the
1007truth was, at least when Nick admitted it to himself, his reasons were not
1008quite so lofty or noble. In fact, they were fairly selfish.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
1009Yes, he wanted to be close to his family during this last holiday together but
1010he also wanted to be away from the sudden loneliness in his life. There was an
1011emptiness that permeated his Boston apartment and even leaked over into his
1012job. It definitely felt as though he had lost something, but it wasn't his
1013ex-fiancée Jill Campbell. Surprisingly, her absence from his life had little to
1014do with the loneliness he was experiencing. What was worse, leaving Boston
1015didn't help either. The emptiness followed him. This hollowed-out feeling was
1016something that he was carrying around with him. Maybe that wasn't the right way
1017to describe it but it was definitely what it felt like.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
1018His new job at a high-level security corporation kept him distracted. He liked
1019the new challenge. And the position actually paid very well…or at least it
1020would. Eventually. He had only started a month ago.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
1021"I know you're a little miserable," Christine said, interrupting his
1022thoughts.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
1023"I'm not miserable."<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
1024"It's okay to admit it."<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
1025"I'm not miserable."<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
1026She was giving him that look, that "you're so full of crap" look.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/><i class="calibre8">Okay, so maybe he was a little miserable. Miserable went well with hollowed
1027out.</i><br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
1028"It's understandable." Christine seemed to think they should discuss
1029his life in the middle of Lanoha's Nursery. "You recently broke off your
1030engagement. What's it been? Five months?"<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
1031"I'm not miserable because of Jill," Nick insisted through clenched
1032teeth, hoping his sister would get the idea to lay off and at the same time
1033realizing he had probably verified her accusation. If she knew him as well as
1034she thought she did, she'd know it had nothing to do with Jill.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
1035"If it's not Jill," Christine said, pretending to keep it casual by
1036fingering the price tags on some holiday wreaths, "then it must be
1037Maggie."<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
1038It was like she stuck a dagger in his side and Nick had to keep from wincing.
1039He had spent the last month convincing himself that Maggie O'Dell had moved on
1040and had no interest in being a part of his life. He had given it his best shot.
1041Anything more and he'd become some psycho stalker. It was over. Time to move
1042on. He told himself this over and over. His head heard him loud and clear. It
1043was his heart that ignored him.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
1044"I know," Christine said, taking his silence as confirmation.
1045"It's complicated."<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
1046But it wasn't all that complicated. Nick had met Maggie four years ago, working
1047a case when he was sheriff of Platte City, Nebraska. She dropped into his life
1048as an FBI profiler, smart and witty, tough but beautiful. Nick had known a lot
1049of women—he'd been with a lot of women—but he'd never met anyone quite like
1050Maggie O'Dell. There had been instant chemistry. At least that's how Nick
1051remembered it. But she was married then.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
1052They'd stayed in touch and after her divorce he gave her plenty of opportunity
1053to be charmed by him, even advertised that he was open to a relationship. A
1054real relationship, something Nick Morrelli rarely considered. But Maggie turned
1055him down for whatever reason. Perhaps she just wasn't ready. That's what he
1056wanted to believe. Being rejected was a new concept for him.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
1057But last summer they crossed paths again. Another case with ties to the one
1058four years ago and for Nick it brought back all those memories and some
1059feelings he didn't realize he still harbored. Feelings that slammed him hard.
1060Hard enough that he canceled his wedding engagement.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
1061Then he did the only thing he knew how to do. He pursued Maggie with cards,
1062e-mails, flowers, requests to spend time together despite her living in the
1063D.C. area and him in Boston. Nick thought he was being the proper suitor. That
1064is until he discovered there was someone else in her life. He had let her slip
1065away, blown his chances. This time it was too late.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
1066He'd let her slip away to a guy named Benjamin Platt. Nick had looked up the
1067license plate on a Land Rover he saw parked outside of Maggie's house. Platt
1068was an army colonel, a medical doctor, a scientist, a soldier. He wasn't sure
1069that even a tall, dark and charming quarterback-turned-lawyer stood a chance to
1070compete with that.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
1071"Can we concentrate on Christmas?" he asked after too much silence.
1072He could already see Christine knew she was right. He took no pleasure in the
1073fact that to his big sister he seemed to be an open book.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
1074Before Christine could respond two store clerks interrupted them, coming into
1075the center of the store.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
1076"There's been an explosion at Mall of America," one of them
1077announced. "There may be dozens of people dead."<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
1078Customers throughout the store came up the aisles to hear the news.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
1079"That's one of ours," Nick told Christine. He barely got his cell
1080phone out of his jacket pocket when it began to ring.<br class="calibre9"/><br class="calibre9"/></p>
1081
1082<p class="calibre10"><a name="ch10"></a><strong class="calibre7">CHAPTER</strong><b class="calibre7"><br class="calibre6"/><strong class="calibre7">10</strong></b></p>
1083
1084<p class="MsoNormal1"><i class="calibre8">Mall of America</i><br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
1085Asante wasted little time fighting through the wave of hysteria. It was
1086ridiculous. This was why he never stuck around afterwards to watch. There were
1087some he had worked with in the past who enjoyed this chaos—the smell of fear,
1088the clawing and clamoring to survive, the screams and cries of human nature at
1089its most vulnerable. Or, as Asante considered it, human nature at its most
1090pathetic. And from simply a glance, he knew that to be true.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
1091Years ago he learned never to be fooled. Those who bragged that a crisis
1092brought out the best in people would soon have you forget that the exact same
1093crisis would also bring out the very worst in people. Asante stood at the top
1094of the escalator looking down as the wildfire of panic raced through each floor
1095of the mall and he resisted the urge to smile. People shoved each other, stepping
1096over the injured, dropping and leaving behind their precious belongings. If
1097they thought this was bad, wait until they saw what was to come. This was but a
1098distraction.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
1099He followed the GPS signal as he shoved through, keeping close to the walls
1100where he knew any cameras still functioning could not pick up his image as
1101easily. He walked quickly when he wanted to run. Time was slipping by. It had
1102taken him longer than he expected to fight his way through the crowds amassing
1103at the exits. The signal seemed to be taking him right back to where the
1104carriers began—in the food court.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
1105Asante stopped suddenly. He dropped down to the floor, kneeled and doubled over
1106his duffel bag, pretending to be hurt while a security guard ran by. He didn't
1107want security seeing his PARAMEDIC cap and escorting him through to the
1108wounded. He'd find his own wounded.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
1109While on the floor he turned on his wireless headset that fit close and tight
1110over his left ear. He had strapped the small computer, just a fraction bigger
1111than a smartphone, to the inside of his arm so he had both hands free and could
1112still follow the green blinks on the computer screen's map. He poked in a
1113number on the keypad and then turned up the volume on his headset. In seconds
1114he was listening in on the mall's security guards exchange information and
1115curses.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
1116"Where are the cops?"<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
1117"On their way."<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
1118"How frickin' long does it take?"<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
1119This time Asante couldn't help but smile. Their wait was his gain. And now they
1120would warn him when it was time for him to leave.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
1121The food court reminded him of a sidewalk café in Tel Aviv after it had been
1122bombed. It had been in his student days when he was still studying the art of
1123terror. Where better to learn than on the eternal battlefield. Now he looked
1124around at tables and chairs that were strewn and broken like piles of pickup
1125sticks. The walls were splattered with a combination of Chinese dumplings,
1126pizza, coffee, flesh and blood. The floors glittered with glass. The mist from
1127the ceiling sprinklers added to the haze, dampening those who ran away and
1128soaking those who couldn't.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
1129Asante followed the green blinking light on his GPS system, tapping it twice
1130when it malfunctioned and indicated that his target was right in front of him.
1131He pressed several buttons before he realized the computer had not
1132malfunctioned at all. Where he expected to see the young Dixon Lee, he saw
1133instead a young woman. She was curled up behind an overturned table, close to
1134the rail that overlooked the mall's atrium.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
1135She was no longer moving, but she was, indeed, the source of the blinking green
1136light.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/><i class="calibre8">Son of a bitch.</i><br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
1137This was his errant carrier?<br class="calibre9"/><br class="calibre9"/></p>
1138
1139<p class="calibre10"><a name="ch11"></a><strong class="calibre7">CHAPTER</strong><b class="calibre7"><br class="calibre6"/><strong class="calibre7">11</strong></b></p>
1140
1141<p class="MsoNormal1"><i class="calibre8">Newburgh Heights, Virginia</i><br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
1142Maggie left them to pack. She insisted they stay.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
1143"Please don't let all this food go to waste," she told them. "Gwen
1144and I worked too hard to prepare it." Then with a smile, "Okay?
1145Please stay."<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
1146Racine had been the first one to promise though it came out in typical Racine
1147style. "Yeah, no problem. I'm starving. It takes more than a little
1148holiday carnage to keep me from eating."<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
1149It was enough to break the ice and make the rest of them laugh.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
1150Still, Maggie wasn't surprised to hear the knock on her bedroom door. She
1151expected Gwen had one last word to get in.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
1152"Come on in."<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
1153"You sure?" Benjamin Platt stood in Maggie's doorway looking more
1154like a hesitant schoolboy than an army colonel.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
1155"Yes, of course. Come on in," Maggie told him, trying to hide her
1156surprise.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
1157He showed her the little black doctor's bag he had in his hand. It had become a
1158familiar object over the last two months. Ben had made several house calls
1159after Maggie's quarantine at USAMRIID. Inside the bag she knew he kept a
1160phlebotomist kit for taking blood samples and at least two vials of the vaccine
1161for the Ebola virus.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
1162"Still carrying that around, huh?"<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
1163"Ever since I met you," he said.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
1164"I have that effect on guys."<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
1165His eyes narrowed. He was serious now, ready to put aside their usual witty
1166repartee.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
1167"You're not due for another shot of the vaccine until late next week, but
1168considering where you're going," he paused, and waited for her eyes,
1169"and what you'll encounter, I think it might be a good idea to give you
1170the dose before you leave."<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
1171That he was concerned made Maggie concerned. This was a doctor, who all the
1172while she was quarantined and restless for results, kept telling her to slow
1173down and wait, that they would deal with whatever it was when they found out
1174exactly what it was. The "whatever" they were dealing with ended up
1175being Ebola Zaire, nicknamed "the slate sweeper." Maggie had been
1176exposed but didn't show any signs of the virus. The incubation period for Ebola
1177was up to twenty-one days. It had been fifty-six days since Maggie's exposure.
1178That she knew exactly how many days was a testament to how seriously she still
1179took the threat.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
1180"You don't think—"<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
1181"No, of course not," Ben interrupted. "Just a safety precaution.
1182Your immune system has been through a hell of a lot."<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
1183"Okay," she said and started to clear a place for him to set the bag
1184on her dresser. Her Pullman was spread out on the bed, almost packed. She'd
1185learned a long time ago to keep the basic necessities already in the bag. While
1186Ben prepared a syringe Maggie looked for a warm turtleneck sweater. She'd been
1187to the Midwest enough times during this time of year to no longer underestimate
1188the cold.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
1189"It's snowing there," Ben said as if he could read her mind.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
1190"Boot snowing or just snow-snowing?"<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
1191This time he stopped his hands and looked up. "There's a difference?"<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
1192"Oh, big time. You haven't been to the Midwest in the winter?"<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
1193"Chicago, but no. It was spring."<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
1194"My first trip I only had leather flats. It snowed like eight or ten
1195inches and the only place nearby to buy boots in the middle of nowhere,
1196Nebraska, was a John Deere implement store."<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
1197"Let me guess, you ended up with bright green, size twelves?"<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
1198"Something like that."<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
1199She rummaged through her closet and pulled out a pair of slipover boots that
1200folded easily. When she turned back to her suitcase Ben was watching her,
1201smiling.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
1202"What?"<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
1203"Nothing," he said, shaking his head but still smiling. "You're
1204just pretty incredible, that's all."<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
1205She hoped the flush up her neck didn't show in her face. She held up the boots
1206for him to see as she placed them in the suitcase. "I knew eventually I
1207could get your attention with my sexy footwear."<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
1208"I hate to disappoint you," he said, setting aside the syringe and
1209coming close enough to touch the back of his hand to her cheek, "but you
1210managed to do that without any footwear at all. The first time I saw those bare
1211feet in oversized athletic socks back at USAMRIID my heart skipped a couple of
1212beats."<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
1213Maggie wasn't sure if it was his touch or his rare and surprising admission
1214that caused her own heart to miss a couple of beats.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
1215"A foot fetish, huh?" She tried to keep it light.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
1216"Big time."<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
1217Another knock on the door startled both of them. This time it was Gwen.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
1218"Sorry to interrupt. Your ride to Andrews is here."<br class="calibre9"/><br class="calibre9"/></p>
1219
1220<p class="calibre10"><a name="ch12"></a><strong class="calibre7">CHAPTER</strong><b class="calibre7"><br class="calibre6"/><strong class="calibre7">12</strong></b></p>
1221
1222<p class="MsoNormal1"><i class="calibre8">Mall of America</i><br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
1223The glass hadn't plunged in as deep as Rebecca thought it had. It was bleeding
1224but no major gusher. So no major arteries. She still had to pull the chunk of
1225glass out.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/><i class="calibre8">She could do this. Of course, she could.</i><br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
1226She had cleaned up and taken care of her share of wounds and injuries. Never
1227mind that they were on dogs. Bites from other dogs, rips from barbed wire or
1228abuse from owners. One of the dogs she helped treat had been hit by a car. All
1229of the wounds were gross. No different than this. If anything, it should be
1230easier when it was herself. No sad brown eyes looking up at her. If only her
1231head would stop throbbing and her stomach would stop threatening to shove
1232everything up or down.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
1233The security guard had left and Rebecca felt relieved. Scared and in pain but
1234relieved. <i class="calibre8">How weird was that?</i> She couldn't help wondering if the
1235security guards had seen Chad and Tyler and Dixon with the exact backpacks? Had
1236they been watching them on the security cameras? Was that possible on a day
1237like today with the crowds? Or maybe especially on a day like today. How else
1238would they know?<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
1239She looked around again and couldn't see any other blue uniforms. Or did some
1240security guards wear plainclothes? If they had been watching the guys and were
1241suspicious of the backpacks that meant they had seen her, too. Would they
1242recognize her now?<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/><i class="calibre8">Maybe not with this harpoon in her arm.</i><br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/><i class="calibre8">God, it hurt.</i><br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
1243She thought she could hear sirens now. There were shouts from below. Was
1244someone shouting "Police"?<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
1245The shouts were drowned out by an ear-piercing electronic buzz. Somewhere an
1246alarm had been set off. No one seemed to pay attention to any of it. There
1247wasn't a sound that could stall the hysteria.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
1248Rebecca stayed put. She tried to assess the damage to her arm. Her coat was
1249shredded on the left side where broken glass must have pummeled her. Funny, she
1250didn't remember.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/><i class="calibre8">How could she not remember the pain?</i><br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
1251It happened so quickly. She was probably lucky to have just one piece of debris
1252stuck inside her.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
1253She carefully ripped the fabric away from the wound and the sight of her own
1254flesh, purplish-red, raw and torn made her sit back. She leaned her head
1255against the rail, waiting for the nausea to pass. She felt the vibration of the
1256stampede around and under her. She couldn't focus, couldn't hear over that buzz
1257and now there was an annoying whirling sound like bursts of wind through a
1258tunnel. She closed her eyes and that's when she realized it wasn't wind. It was
1259her own raspy breathing.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/><i class="calibre8">She had to do better than this.</i><br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
1260She needed to get the glass out of her arm.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/><i class="calibre8">Come on, Rebecca. Just pull the damned thing out.</i><br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
1261One, two, three…like a Band-Aid in one quick jerk.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
1262But she'd need to stop the bleeding when she pulled out the glass. Her eyes
1263flew open. She'd have to shove something into the hole the glass left in her
1264arm. If not, she'd bleed to death. This was actually good. It made her think
1265through the process. It made her focus.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
1266She grabbed pieces of her coat that she had ripped away and began peeling out
1267the lining. It'd be cleaner than the outside of the coat. And it was softer.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
1268"I can help you with that."<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
1269Rebecca looked up to find a man standing behind her. He wore a cap that read
1270PARAMEDIC but he was in jeans and hiking boots. No uniform. Although she
1271couldn't really see underneath his winter coat. A duffel bag was slung over his
1272shoulder.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
1273She should have felt saved, rescued. She wouldn't have to do this herself. But
1274there was something about the way he held the already loaded syringe that
1275didn't seem quite right.<br class="calibre9"/><br class="calibre9"/></p>
1276
1277<p class="calibre10"><a name="ch13"></a><strong class="calibre7">CHAPTER</strong><b class="calibre7"><br class="calibre6"/><strong class="calibre7">13</strong></b></p>
1278
1279<p class="MsoNormal1"><i class="calibre8">Omaha, Nebraska</i><br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
1280Nick Morrelli was trying to check flights on his smartphone while Christine
1281waited to drive them home. Outside the car her son Timmy and his friend Gibson
1282helped the Lanoha Nursery worker load the Christmas tree on top of Christine's
1283SUV. Nick had offered to help, too, but the boys insisted they could do it. He
1284didn't argue. All he could think about was finding a way up to Minneapolis.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
1285His new boss had chosen Nick to represent Mall of America's security company,
1286their security company, United Allied Security. With his experience as a county
1287sheriff he had dealt with homicide scenes and forensic evidence. And as an
1288attorney he had the legal background to protect the company's rights. That's
1289what his boss Al Banoff had told him. Nick guessed it was one of those golden
1290opportunities that shouldn't be questioned. Even if the opportunity would be
1291measured in fatalities.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
1292"How many do they think are dead?" Christine asked him.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
1293Nick gave her a warning look.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
1294"What?"<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
1295"Stop being a reporter," he told her.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
1296"I'm just asking," she said, then added, "Out of concern.
1297Nothing more."<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
1298"Right."<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
1299He waited. He knew she wouldn't give up that easily.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
1300"Seriously, it's bad, isn't it?"<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
1301But this time without even glancing at her Nick could tell she was concerned by
1302the catch in her voice. He caught a glimpse of her hand before she hid it in
1303her lap, nervous fingers combing through her blond hair. Explosions going off
1304in a crowded mall the day after Thanksgiving—it was a nightmare that could
1305happen anywhere. That's what grabbed you by the throat and choked your senses
1306for a minute or two.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
1307"Yeah, I think it's bad."<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
1308"Reminds me of the Hawkins shooting," she said in almost a whisper.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
1309"It was around this time of year?"<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
1310"December 5th."<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
1311Nick had been living in Boston at the time but he knew the incident had rattled
1312the state of Nebraska. A nineteen-year-old named Robert Hawkins walked into the
1313Von Maur at Westroads Shopping Mall, took the elevator to the third floor and
1314started shooting. By the time he was finished and turned the gun on himself,
1315eight other people were dead. All of them random and innocent shoppers and store
1316employees.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
1317"That was so hard on the entire community," Christine said, now
1318watching out the SUV windows, as if she wanted to make sure her son couldn't
1319burst in and overhear. "I can't even imagine what this will be like for
1320the families."<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
1321Nick operated by getting through life step by step, prioritizing and keeping
1322focused on what needed to be done immediately. He couldn't think about the
1323victims right now or their families. As heartless as that sounded, he needed to
1324stay focused on his job. For his old job as a Boston prosecutor that meant
1325finding the bad guys and putting them away. This job would be a little
1326trickier. The premise remained the same—find out who did this. Find who cracked
1327their firewall of security. No, not cracked. More like ravaged.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
1328"I'll take you to the airport," Christine said, startling Nick back.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
1329"Looks like there's room on a Delta flight in two hours from now."<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
1330"Can you pack and be ready that fast?"<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
1331"Sure, why not. If I forget something I'll be at the mall."<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
1332She rolled her eyes at him and he thought he saw the beginning of a smile. But
1333just as quickly it disappeared. Her fingers gripped the steering wheel and Nick
1334watched her face transform from sister to mom while Timmy and Gibson opened
1335their doors and piled into the backseat.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
1336"You're gonna miss the Nebraska Colorado game, Uncle Nick."<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
1337"You can TiVo it for me, okay?" he told the boys.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
1338Nick caught Christine's eyes and just in that moment they seemed to exchange
1339the same thought: <i class="calibre8">Oh but to be fifteen again and have the world revolve
1340around only you.</i><br class="calibre9"/><br class="calibre9"/></p>
1341
1342<p class="calibre10"><a name="ch14"></a><strong class="calibre7">CHAPTER</strong><b class="calibre7"><br class="calibre6"/><strong class="calibre7">14</strong></b></p>
1343
1344<p class="MsoNormal1"><i class="calibre8">Mall of America</i><br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
1345Patrick saw Rebecca just as he heard the first shouts from down below,
1346"Police, put up your hands." She looked crumpled against the railing
1347that separated the open expanse of the atrium and what used to be the food
1348court. Tables and chairs were tossed and broken, splintered into pieces like a
1349tornado had blown through. She was conscious though hugging her left arm to her
1350body. And there was a man standing over her. Someone trying to help.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/><i class="calibre8">But why had he chosen Rebecca?</i><br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
1351He remembered trying to help the mother get her baby out of the stroller and
1352wanted to kick himself for being paranoid. Of course, people helped each other.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
1353As Patrick got closer he could see the white type on the man's baseball cap. Paramedic?
1354Strange, he didn't think there was a rescue squad here yet. He looked down over
1355the railing. Two uniformed police officers scrimmaged the mall entrance two
1356floors down. They were the first responders that Patrick had heard or seen
1357though he guessed it was certainly possible for more to be here without him
1358noticing.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/><i class="calibre8">Blue jeans, hiking boots, a duffel bag.</i><br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
1359Patrick still wasn't satisfied. And there was something in the guy's hand that
1360looked like…<i class="calibre8">damn, it looked like a needle and syringe</i>. None of the
1361volunteer rescue and fire units Patrick had ever worked with would approach an
1362injured person with a syringe.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
1363"Hey," Patrick shouted, but his voice was drowned out in the whirl of
1364noises.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
1365"Rebecca," he yelled and saw her body jerk up. But it wasn't in
1366response to his call.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
1367In one swift move she jumped to her feet, kicking at a table leg and sending it
1368into the man's path before sprinting off in the other direction. The man
1369stumbled but only for a second. He pocketed the syringe and bolted after Rebecca,
1370shoving a pair of teenaged girls out of his way. In the chaos no one else
1371noticed.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
1372Patrick took off after both of them.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/><i class="calibre8">What the hell was going on?</i><br class="calibre9"/><br class="calibre9"/></p>
1373
1374<p class="calibre10"><a name="ch15"></a><strong class="calibre7">CHAPTER</strong><b class="calibre7"><br class="calibre6"/><strong class="calibre7">15</strong></b></p>
1375
1376<p class="MsoNormal1"><i class="calibre8">Washington, D. C.</i><br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
1377Andrews Air Force Base disappeared below and Maggie forced herself to not look
1378for it, to stop watching out the airplane window. Killers, she could handle.
1379Being at 38,000 feet and not in control still required conscious effort.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/><i class="calibre8">Conscious effort or a Scotch, neat.</i><br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
1380It didn't even matter that it was a private jet with comfortable leather lounge
1381chairs. To make matters worse, Assistant Director Ray Kunze sat across from her
1382alongside Allan Foster, the silver-haired senior United States senator from
1383Minnesota. To Maggie's left was the Assistant Deputy Director of Homeland Security,
1384Charlie Wurth. The three men were finally quiet after exchanging pleasantries,
1385a few barbs and then the requisite comments of disbelief and anger. Maggie had
1386simply sat back and tuned them out.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
1387"They warned us," Senator Foster said for a second time.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
1388"We'll know soon enough if this was the work of any organized group or
1389simply one madman." A.D. Kunze looked to Maggie and nodded like it was
1390some secret signal to back him up. "Our Special Agent O'Dell should be
1391able to tell us exactly who to look for as soon as she sees those
1392videotapes."<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
1393Instead of agreeing or offering any assurance, Maggie asked the senator,
1394"What exactly were the warnings?"<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
1395"We haven't substantiated or authenticated them yet," Kunze answered
1396for the senator. "But I'm certain once we get a look at the terrorists—on
1397the security cameras and from eyewitness reports—we'll be able to determine if
1398the warnings provide an appropriate template."<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
1399Maggie found herself staring at Kunze. Did he always talk like this? As if
1400surrounded by TV cameras and reporters?<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
1401"I'm just curious," she said and shrugged as though it didn't matter
1402whether or not they shared. "Warnings and threats often reveal more than
1403intended."<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
1404Senator Foster met her eyes and nodded, "That's very true." Then as
1405if to squelch any protests, he added, "And the warnings are all we have
1406right now."<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
1407"You said security had video," Kunze tossed at Wurth, again reminding
1408Maggie of a politician looking to already place blame if need be.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
1409"Yes, they should have video," Wurth said with a calm that made
1410Kunze's bulging vein in his forehead look manic. "But you know how retail
1411security is. They're more concerned about shoplifting than bombs. We'll be
1412lucky if we caught any of the terrorists on camera. And hopefully the cameras
1413weren't tampered with or destroyed."<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
1414Maggie knew Wurth had been awarded his position in Homeland Security for his
1415work investigating the fraud and failures of the federal government after
1416Hurricane Katrina. He had a reputation for pushing the envelope and getting things
1417done. Compared to his FBI counterpart and the senior senator, Wurth would be
1418the one least worried about political correctness or organizational protocol.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
1419Ironic, Maggie thought as she watched the small, wiry black man. Ironic and
1420refreshing to meet someone who didn't premeasure his actions to limit his
1421accountability. In other words, it was refreshing to meet someone in this
1422business whose number one concern wasn't covering his own ass.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
1423Kunze dug a file folder from a bulging leather satchel and handed it to Maggie.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
1424She glanced at the three men as she started to sift through the contents. Each
1425man watched her with different looks that telegraphed their different
1426agendas—looks and agendas as different as were the men.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
1427Maggie guessed Wurth somewhere around her age, middle thirties with a small but
1428athletic frame. He shed his sport jacket as soon as they boarded and rolled up
1429the sleeves of his oxford shirt, a pale pink shirt with a bright red necktie.
1430She immediately liked Wurth who didn't seem to care about putting on airs or
1431hiding his working-class past. He sat on the edge of his chair, nervous energy
1432tapping out with his foot.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
1433In contrast Senator Foster's tall, lanky body lounged back in his chair with
1434legs crossed at the ankles and extending well beyond his personal space. His
1435elbows braced up on the chair arms, hands together creating a steeple of
1436fingers that held up his head and seemed to point out the deep cleft at the
1437bottom of his chin. He reminded Maggie of an academic professor, thoughtful,
1438slow to speak as if he truly were pondering every answer before he responded.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
1439Assistant Director Kunze was physically a direct opposite of both Wurth and
1440Foster. Square head on massive shoulders, Kunze looked more like a well-dressed
1441bouncer at a private nightclub. His stare could easily be mistaken as vacant
1442while, in fact, his mind analyzed and processed every move his opponent made.
1443He used the image of all brawn, no brains to his advantage and had even been
1444rumored to play it up every chance he got.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
1445A.D. Kunze's superiors called him straightforward and quick-thinking. Maggie
1446considered him reactive and impulsive. Colleagues described him as determined,
1447focused and passionate. Maggie saw him as unpredictable, short-tempered and
1448vindictive. In plain English, a petty brute of a man who didn't deserve to walk
1449in Kyle Cunningham's shadow let alone take over his position.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
1450Previous to Kunze being assigned interim assistant director of the Behavioral
1451Science Unit Maggie had never worked with the man, and yet he came to the
1452position loaded with an unshakable perception of her, a preconceived
1453misperception. Evidently her reputation of bending the rules was something
1454Kunze had no patience for. His accusation that Maggie and Agent Tully had
1455contributed to Assistant Director Cunningham's death somehow, by their
1456individual negligence in the case, was absurd. Why Kunze insisted on using it
1457against them puzzled her. It almost seemed ridiculous, except that Maggie knew
1458Kunze might actually be able to pull it off.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
1459Inside the file folder were poor-quality copies of memorandums about several
1460phone calls and e-mails. They seemed standard fare. The group called itself
1461Citizens for American Pride, CAP for short. Maggie was familiar with the group
1462and similar ones. Most of them had gained popularity through the Internet and
1463on college campuses. Their missions weren't all that different from the white
1464supremacist groups of the '80s and '90s, which they disguised with a veil of
1465normalcy and a level of legitimacy.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
1466Instead of holing up in cabins or compounds, the groups—always professing
1467America pride and ideals—held family picnics, sometimes church sponsored,
1468though not affiliated with any one church or Christian denomination. They held
1469rallies on college campuses. From what Maggie remembered, most of the groups
1470preached family values and focused on putting an end to exporting jobs,
1471stopping the floodgate of immigrants coming across the border and encouraging
1472the purchase of American-made products. Maggie remembered recently seeing, as
1473the holiday shopping season began, a full-page ad in <i class="calibre8">USA Today</i>,
1474sponsored by Citizens for American Pride, calling for a boycott of electronic
1475games. Their reasoning being that they wanted to prevent the addiction and
1476destruction of American youths.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
1477Picnics, boycotts, rallies, advertising campaigns—none of it sounded like a
1478group capable of bombing a crowded shopping mall.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
1479Maggie was about to ask what basis they had to take these particular threats
1480seriously when a flight attendant interrupted.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
1481"What can I get for the four of you?"<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
1482Kunze ordered coffee, black. The other two men nodded in unison for Maggie to
1483go next. Kunze wasn't rattled in the least, nor apologetic.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
1484"A Diet Pepsi," Maggie said.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
1485Wurth asked for the same. Then Senator Foster gave instructions for a gin
1486martini that required a three-step process.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
1487"Do you have anything onboard to eat?" Maggie stopped the attendant
1488before she turned to leave. "I haven't eaten yet today." She thought
1489of the spread of food she had prepared and left for her friends and her stomach
1490felt hollow.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
1491"I'm certain I can find something."<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
1492"Yeah, food would be a good idea," Wurth agreed.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
1493This time Maggie saw Kunze scowl at the deputy director. She kept a smile to
1494herself as she went back to sifting through the file folder. Perhaps she had
1495found an ally in Wurth.<br class="calibre9"/><br class="calibre9"/></p>
1496
1497<p class="calibre10"><a name="ch16"></a><strong class="calibre7">CHAPTER</strong><b class="calibre7"><br class="calibre6"/><strong class="calibre7">16</strong></b></p>
1498
1499<p class="MsoNormal1"><i class="calibre8">Mall of America</i><br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
1500BECCA, DON'T TRUST ANYONE—DIXON<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
1501That was the text message that had flashed on the screen of Dixon's iPhone.
1502Rebecca noticed it when she started ripping out the lining of her coat and the
1503phone fell out of her coat pocket. She had forgotten about having the phone.
1504Hadn't even remembered it when she heard the <i class="calibre8">Batman</i> theme ring tone
1505earlier.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
1506Without the warning from Dixon, Rebecca still would have run. There was
1507something creepy, something totally wrong about this guy in the PARAMEDIC cap.
1508From her pre-vet experience she knew drugging a wounded animal was best for the
1509animal and the rescuer, but certainly that's not how it worked with people. Was
1510it? And what about the others lying just yards away in much worse shape?<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
1511Her instincts had been correct. The guy gave chase, almost grabbing her wounded
1512arm. He was still following though now keeping his distance when she managed to
1513insert herself into a group headed down the escalator. Rebecca pressed in
1514between an elderly couple and a group of women with screaming children in their
1515arms. Behind them were two old women with their arms around each other, bracing
1516each other up and making it impossible for anyone to pass by them on the escalator.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
1517Rebecca glanced over her shoulder. He was there at the top of the escalator,
1518only a dozen or so steps behind. She avoided eye contact but could feel his
1519stare.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
1520The escalator made it feel like they were moving in slow motion. There was no
1521way for her to push forward and take advantage of the temporary barrier between
1522them. No one dared to rush down the steps. By now all that were left on the
1523third floor were the trailers, those slowed by shock or injuries, old age or
1524physical handicaps. The first waves were already down on the main level of the
1525mall, piling at the exits.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
1526Rebecca gripped the cell phone in her hand and with her thumb punched in:<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
1527WHAT DID YOU GET ME INTO?<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
1528The response chimed back quickly:<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
1529THANK GOD U R OK. WHAT ABOUT CHAD &amp; TYLER?<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
1530They were getting to the bottom of the escalator. Her thumb flew over the
1531miniature keypad:<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
1532SOMEONE'S AFTER ME.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
1533WHO IS HE, DIXON???????<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
1534They were on the second floor and Rebecca tried to stay with the safety net
1535group but they were breaking apart, going separate ways. Another glance back.
1536He was stuck on the escalator for a few more seconds, looking miserably
1537impatient, his hand ready to shove the old women out of his way.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
1538She dashed around the corner, stumbled through a kiosk of sunglasses that had
1539been knocked over. She slipped but kept her balance. Her arm throbbed. Again,
1540she felt light-headed and nauseated. In the reflection of a storefront window
1541she could see him coming, already turning the corner. A brisk walk. Not
1542running. Not yet.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
1543His head swiveled from side to side, watching everyone and taking in everything
1544around them. She kept track of him in the store window reflections as she
1545passed by, avoiding looking back at him and wasting time. All the storefronts
1546were already closed, metal grates across the entrances preventing her from
1547ducking into one of them.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
1548Rebecca kept a steady pace. There was another group approaching the next set of
1549down escalators. She hurried to join them. She wedged herself into the middle
1550just as they started getting on the escalator. A quick glance over her
1551shoulder. He was there at the top, following, not even ten feet behind.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
1552She gripped the moving railing with her left hand and snatched it back.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/><i class="calibre8">Blood. And lots of it.</i><br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
1553Her hand was wet and sticky with it. The realization that it was her own sent
1554her stomach reeling again. The wound in her arm was bleeding more than she
1555thought.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
1556In her right hand she held the cell phone and began texting again:<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
1557WHERE R U? WHICH HOSPITAL?<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
1558"Becca."<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
1559She heard her name called and twisted around.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/><i class="calibre8">Was it possible the man knew who she was?</i><br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
1560She saw him looking up and followed his eyes. Leaning over the second floor
1561railing was Patrick waving at her.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/><i class="calibre8">Patrick. Steady, reliable Patrick.</i><br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
1562Tall, lean, looking strong…and worried. Something black smeared the side of his
1563face. His hand waved, trailing a bloodstained wrap.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
1564She smiled up at him.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/><i class="calibre8">God, it was good to see him.</i><br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
1565Something unclenched inside her. It would be okay. She'd be okay. She wasn't
1566alone. They were almost to the bottom of the escalator. She'd hang tight to the
1567group, wait for Patrick to catch up. Another look over her shoulder and she saw
1568him at the top of the escalator. The man in the PARAMEDIC cap saw him, too. He
1569had something in his hand, something that flashed before he pocketed it.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/><i class="calibre8">A knife? A gun? The syringe?</i><br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
1570The cell phone chimed Dixon's reply:<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
1571ST MARY'S. COME HERE.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
1572DON'T TRUST ANYONE.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
1573NOT EVEN PATRICK.<br class="calibre9"/><br class="calibre9"/></p>
1574
1575<p class="calibre10"><a name="ch17"></a><strong class="calibre7">CHAPTER</strong><b class="calibre7"><br class="calibre6"/><strong class="calibre7">17</strong></b></p>
1576
1577<p class="MsoNormal1"><i class="calibre8">In flight</i><br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
1578Maggie set the file folder aside. She was more interested in Homeland Security
1579Deputy Director Wurth's phone call. He took what looked like meticulous notes,
1580while he nodded and inserted "Yes, I understand" several times. For
1581the rest of them seated around him and listening, it was impossible to know
1582what was going on.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
1583FBI Assistant Director Kunze didn't bother to hide his impatience. He waved a
1584beefy hand at Wurth, palm up accompanied by a shoulder shrug. It was as plain
1585as if he were saying, "What the hell's going on?" Wurth ignored him.
1586He continued to take notes in the small leather folio, underlining words and
1587redotting i's in between writing. Maggie saw it as a nervous habit of a man
1588with too much energy. Also a way of controlling information and ignoring the
1589rest of them. Perhaps the deputy director had a few political tricks up his own
1590sleeve.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
1591"Three bombs," Wurth told them even as he was tapping the button on
1592the phone to end his call. "Mall security noticed at least three men with
1593identical red backpacks earlier this morning. They started tracking them just
1594minutes before the blasts."<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
1595"Arabs?" Foster made no excuse for his first question.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
1596"Mall security cameras are pretty crappy," Wurth said. "No one
1597seems willing to make that assessment at this stage. They also aren't willing
1598to discount anything either. Right now their focus is making sure there aren't
1599any more bombs in the mall. Some of these sickos get their kicks from waiting
1600for and taking out the first responders."<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
1601Maggie remembered all too well. That was exactly the case two months ago when
1602she and Assistant Director Cunningham responded to what they believed was a
1603bomb threat. A quiet suburban neighborhood. An ordinary house. Only the woman
1604and her daughter who lived there had not been the real targets. She didn't want
1605to think about it. Didn't need to relive it again for the hundredth time.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
1606She glanced at A.D. Kunze fingering his too-tight collar and loosening his tie
1607as he shoved into his mouth the last bite of a bagel loaded with cream cheese.
1608Between chews and as he wiped at the corner of his lip he asked, "So how many
1609dead?"<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
1610At that very moment, Maggie realized how much she missed Cunningham, his brisk
1611but polite manner, that crinkle of concern indented in his brow, his quiet
1612authority that seemed to enter the room with him. She even missed his nagging.
1613Kyle Cunningham had been Maggie's mentor for over ten years. She'd learned so
1614much from him, taking her cues not only on how to work a case but how to relate
1615to colleagues, when to remain quiet, what to look for, even how to dress. In
1616some ways Cunningham had replaced her father. And losing him felt like losing
1617her father all over again. She didn't need her degree in psychology to
1618understand that was why she was having nightmares again. Nightmares of going
1619through her father's funeral over and over, still from the eyes of a
1620twelve-year-old.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
1621"It's too early." Wurth brought her back to the inside of their jet
1622and not alongside her father's coffin. He was sidestepping Kunze's question.
1623"You know how these things are in the preliminary stages. We can't rely on
1624mall security to give us an accurate read of what's happening."<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
1625"Why not?" Maggie asked and surprised Wurth with her challenge.
1626"You believed their report about three bombs, three men with three red
1627identical backpacks."<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
1628Kunze stopped eating and actually sat forward, interested in Wurth's answer.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
1629The deputy director looked from Maggie to Kunze then to Senator Foster who
1630continued to sip his martini but raised an eyebrow to show that he, too, was
1631waiting for the response.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
1632"Right now they think the explosions were confined to the third floor. But
1633the day after Thanksgiving the place was packed. Estimates are anywhere from
1634150,000 to 200,000 people inside. Depending on the detonation power inside each
1635backpack…" Wurth shrugged—his best guess was as good as theirs. "We
1636don't have a body count, if that's what all of you are looking for. But I will
1637tell you that early reports indicate it's bad, very bad."<br class="calibre9"/><br class="calibre9"/></p>
1638
1639<p class="calibre10"><a name="ch18"></a><strong class="calibre7">CHAPTER</strong><b class="calibre7"><br class="calibre6"/><strong class="calibre7">18</strong></b></p>
1640
1641<p class="MsoNormal1"><i class="calibre8">Mall of America</i><br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
1642Asante had missed his opportunity. He hated loose ends.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
1643He watched the young woman escape his reach and wedge herself even further
1644inside a mob that pressed tight against each other as they swarmed to get out
1645the mall exit closest to them. Asante didn't recognize the young man who waved
1646at her. It wasn't Dixon Lee.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
1647Here on the first floor, cops in uniform with rifles yelled at people to get
1648their hands up. The cops wore Kevlar vests and blue jeans, their badges in
1649plain view, strapped to their arms or thighs. They tried to cut a path through
1650a swarm of shoppers at the side entrance for firefighters and paramedics to
1651enter.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/><i class="calibre8">Real paramedics.</i><br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
1652Asante resisted the urge to pluck off his own cap and stuff it into the duffel
1653bag. Instead he left it on, parroting the cops, telling people to get out of
1654his way. Only Asante headed the opposite direction. He hurried for the back
1655service exit for a second time in the last hour, walking quickly, not rushing,
1656shouldering past one throng of people and cutting through another. The service
1657exit wasn't marked so no one crowded toward it. He slipped out the heavy door.
1658The alarm that he had dismantled earlier remained silent though it wouldn't
1659have mattered now with the chorus of alarms and whistles and screams.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
1660He dodged behind the set of Dumpsters until he got a good look around. Then he
1661allowed his cap to add confidence to his stride across the parking lot. There
1662was too much chaos for anyone to pay attention to him. The snow came down
1663heavier now. The wind had picked up. The weather became an unexpected bonus.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
1664Before Asante reached the car, he flipped on his headset and punched several
1665numbers into the computer strapped to the inside of his arm.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
1666In seconds came a voice, this time a female voice, calm and ready.
1667"Yes?"<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
1668Asante used the computer screen's touchpad to continue his task.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
1669"I'm downloading two photos," Asante said as he ripped off a glove
1670and glided a finger over the computer's touch screen. He had taken quick
1671pictures with his cell phone while on the escalator.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
1672"The woman may have been with Carrier #3 earlier," Asante continued.
1673"That must be how she ended up with his signal."<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
1674He tapped the keyboard and touched through the menu to send the photos, his
1675fingers expertly knowing what to do without hesitation. "I want you to
1676tell me who both of them are. Find out everything you can. Start with the
1677woman. I want all the basics: credit cards, driver's license, passport, home
1678mortgage, prescriptions, parents, siblings…all of it."<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
1679"No problem."<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
1680"I'll let you know when and what photos to release as planned."<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
1681"Consider it done. Anything else?"<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
1682"I have a flight to catch. I need Danko to continue tracking Carrier #3's
1683GPS signal." A quick stroke brought up that computer screen that showed
1684the GPS signal. It appeared to be stuck back inside the mall. He climbed into
1685his car and took in the scene across the street, wondering if perhaps he could
1686still finish her out here.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
1687"Sir, I may be able to do better than that."<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
1688"Excuse me?"<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
1689"I have the most recent text messages from that signal right in front of
1690me. I can tell Danko exactly where the subject is headed."<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
1691Of course. How could he have forgotten. He smiled. This loose end wouldn't be
1692so difficult to tie up after all.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
1693"Where?"<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
1694"Saint Mary's Hospital. She's googling the directions to get there right
1695as we speak. In fact," and she paused, "I can access all the text
1696messages that were made and received from that signal."<br class="calibre9"/><br class="calibre9"/></p>
1697
1698<p class="calibre10"><a name="ch19"></a><strong class="calibre7">CHAPTER</strong><b class="calibre7"><br class="calibre6"/><strong class="calibre7">19</strong></b></p>
1699
1700<p class="MsoNormal1"><i class="calibre8">Mall of America</i><br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/><i class="calibre8">Bloomington, Minnesota</i><br class="calibre6"/>
1701Nick Morrelli followed his security escort as they made their way to the front
1702entrance of the mall. He brushed the snow off his trench coat and raked a
1703gloved hand over his hair.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/><i class="calibre8">Boots. He should have brought boots.</i><br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
1704In his rush to pack he'd forgotten boots. It hadn't been snowing in Omaha.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
1705The escort, who had introduced himself to Nick at the airport as Jerry Yarden,
1706insisted the snow was letting up. Made it sound like the five or six inches on
1707the ground were no big deal to trudge through. This was Minnesota, after all.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
1708"Should be stopping in about an hour," he told Nick.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
1709He followed alongside Yarden, straining to keep up. Nick was almost a head
1710taller but the little man walked briskly through the mall parking lot. That's
1711because Jerry had boots.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
1712Finally Nick slowed and let Yarden go ahead of him to the next police
1713barricade. This was their third one. While Yarden flipped open his ID Nick
1714approached with caution. By now his leather loafers were caked with snow. He
1715was afraid he'd slip and make an ass of himself. Nick waited his turn then
1716without a word he showed his badge and security credentials to yet another
1717police office at the door. This one had his own badge strapped to his thigh. A
1718two-way radio was strapped to his shoulder. He wore a black stocking cap and
1719Kevlar vest, both with POLICE in white letters across the fronts. He held a
1720rifle in one hand and took Nick's ID in the other, lifting it to eye level so
1721that his head never bowed, never lost track of everything going on around him.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
1722He looked at Nick hard, not just comparing the photo to Nick's face but almost
1723as if he wanted to see if he could make him crack, expose any weaknesses, any
1724deceit before Nick made it past his station. Nick wanted to tell the officer he
1725appreciated the tough scrutiny, but to say it would insinuate that he expected
1726something less. Instead, Nick kept quiet, accepted his credentials back with
1727only a nod. As soon as the police officer waved Nick and Yarden through, the
1728man's eyes were somewhere else, ready for the next threat.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
1729Although it was believed that all the bombs had gone off on the third floor,
1730even the first floor showed signs of the explosion. Streamers of debris hung
1731from a huge holiday wreath. The Christmas tree in the center of the atrium was
1732littered with bits and pieces that Nick could tell didn't belong, some shiny,
1733some ragged.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
1734Down here the sprinklers had not been triggered but there was a damp chill.
1735Enough that he caught himself reaching for the lapels of his trench coat and
1736stopping himself before he turned them up.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
1737Off to the side, strung out in front of Macy's, two units of rescue workers
1738barked requests and orders as they handed out blankets and tended to injured
1739shoppers. But Nick's eyes searched above, trying to look up at the four-story
1740atrium. Snipers, dressed in black with Kevlar vests and helmets, were stationed
1741at the tops of the stalled escalators, weapons shouldered and ready. The
1742overpowering smell of smoke and sulfur permeated the air. Shouts echoed down.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
1743"We don't need to go up there," Yarden told him like he was doing
1744Nick a favor.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
1745Nick glanced down at the little man. Removing his stocking cap had released
1746Yarden's large ears and sent his red hair straight up. That, and his ruddy
1747cheeks, made him look almost like an elf. It only added to the bizarre scene.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
1748"Our security office is down this way." Yarden pointed. "County
1749police cordoned it off. Mr. Banoff convinced them to leave everything as is
1750until you arrived."<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
1751"No one's looked at the tapes yet?"<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
1752Yarden shook his head. "They've had more important things to do." He
1753stopped suddenly, turning to Nick and looking around to see if anyone was
1754watching them. "Mr. Banoff convinced them that it's to their benefit if we
1755sift through the tapes. It'll save time and we understand the equipment so we
1756can pinpoint angles, views, etcetera."<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
1757Then Yarden wiggled a long, skinny index finger for Nick to come closer.
1758"You do understand what Mr. Banoff means when he says <i class="calibre8">sift,</i>
1759right?"<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
1760For the first time since he entered the mall Nick's stomach twisted a bit. He
1761hated to think that his new employer was simply worried about covering his own
1762liability at a time like this. Nick didn't answer Yarden. He simply nodded.<br class="calibre9"/><br class="calibre9"/></p>
1763
1764<p class="calibre10"><a name="ch20"></a><strong class="calibre7">CHAPTER</strong><b class="calibre7"><br class="calibre6"/><strong class="calibre7">20</strong></b></p>
1765
1766<p class="MsoNormal1">"Keep her still. Can you
1767do that?"<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
1768"Yes," Patrick told the large, black woman in the too-tight blue
1769uniform.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
1770He couldn't take his eyes off her purple latex-gloved hands, quick and expert
1771fingers working on the wound in Rebecca's arm.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/><i class="calibre8">The wound looked deep. Really deep.</i><br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
1772No, he didn't think keeping Rebecca still would be a problem. If anything he
1773thought Rebecca looked too still. He wished she would say something, anything.
1774Open her eyes for longer than a series of unfocused blinks.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
1775"We're gonna need some plasma over here," the woman yelled over her
1776shoulder, making Patrick jump. She noticed him jump, but pretended not to. He
1777appreciated that small gesture. Instead she continued to give him instructions.
1778"And warm. You need to keep her warm," she told him as she pointed
1779with her chin at the blanket.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
1780He immediately pulled it up and started tucking it in along the sides of
1781Rebecca.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
1782"You're doing good," the woman told him. "Real good."<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
1783He knew she was giving him things to do to keep him from going into shock, too.
1784He wanted to tell her he was a volunteer with a fire department back home in
1785Connecticut and had some experience with this kind of thing but just as he
1786thought of it, he quickly dismissed it. He realized he didn't have experience
1787with anything at all like this. Not bombs going off. Not friends hurt and
1788unconscious. It was different with Rebecca lying here.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
1789He had barely caught up with her, squeezing and shoving his way through a swarm
1790of people trying to exit the mall. Rebecca had been tapping frantically at
1791Dixon's iPhone while being jostled about. One minute she was trying to tell him
1792something, drowned out by the noise engulfing them and the next minute she was
1793slipping down into the mob, like a swimmer being sucked up under a wave.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
1794He had to pull her up. She was faint and feverish, her eyes rolling back into
1795her head. She grabbed onto his arm and her hand was filled with blood. He had
1796already noticed the wound in her arm. Glass impaled the skin, too deep for him
1797to pluck it out. He knew it would bleed even more if he did that. Somehow he
1798had managed to separate her from the mob and get her to sit down before she
1799collapsed completely.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
1800"You got that plasma?" the woman yelled again, startling Patrick
1801again, but this time, at least, he didn't jump.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
1802He watched her finish the last sutures.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
1803"Is she gonna be okay?" He knew it was a lame question but he needed
1804to ask it anyway.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
1805"Of course she is." But she didn't look up at him, concentrating
1806instead on the rhythm of her fingers. Her right hand sutured while her left
1807hand dabbed at the blood. "Your girlfriend's gonna be just fine."<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
1808Patrick opened his mouth to correct her but stopped himself. Rebecca wasn't his
1809girlfriend. She would have been the first one to protest if she could. Not
1810because they didn't like each other. It was an independence thing. At least
1811that's what she called it. She connected independence with being totally on her
1812own. He actually got that. Understood it completely. Or maybe recognized it
1813since it was close to his own philosophy, his own creed.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
1814That fierce independence was probably what connected them in the first place.
1815Although Patrick didn't refer to it as independence so much as a lack of trust.
1816When you grew up without anyone to count on you learned quickly to count on
1817yourself. His mom had done her best but as a single mom she was gone a lot,
1818working long hours. Patrick didn't blame her. It was what it was. Besides, he
1819turned out just fine. Maybe grew up a bit sooner than his classmates. Nothing
1820wrong with that.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
1821He had never felt like he belonged with kids his own age anyway. They were
1822always too immature. Like Dixon Lee, full of unrealistic ideals. Patrick didn't
1823have the time or luxury to worry about and protest things like immigration when
1824it took all his energy just to keep his own job and work full-time so he could
1825pay for his rent and tuition. He didn't make time for guys like Dixon Lee.
1826Didn't let them in. Didn't trust them. Or anyone, for that matter. It was part
1827of the creed. You can only trust yourself. But then came Rebecca messing up his
1828resolve.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
1829She was witty—that dry humor that takes you by surprise—and smart. Not just
1830book smart but capable of debating an issue, reasoning, quipping with a polite
1831sarcasm he found totally charming. Most importantly, she knew how to listen.
1832He'd throw out bits and pieces of himself—the safe stuff, not anything that
1833would reveal his true secrets—expecting her to bat them aside. Only Rebecca
1834absorbed it all. Not just absorbed, but sorted and sifted and tried to put the
1835bits and pieces together. Patrick had never met anyone quite like her.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
1836And oh, by the way, did he mention she was pretty easy on the eyes? Small with
1837an athletic build and enough curves to offset her tomboy attitude. Big brown
1838eyes and creamy skin, although right now, she looked too pale. Her
1839shoulder-length hair was wet with perspiration, the feathery bangs stuck to her
1840forehead. Her normally full lips were now thin and tight from fighting the
1841pain.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
1842Her eyes fluttered open and he reached for her hand underneath the blanket. He
1843decided he liked the sound of her being his girlfriend though he wouldn't admit
1844it out loud. If you let someone in they usually expected to know everything,
1845including all your secrets. Patrick wasn't ready for that.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
1846The plasma arrived and the woman in the blue uniform started preparing the
1847lines and checking Rebecca's other arm for an entry vein. She didn't ask
1848Patrick to let go of Rebecca's hand as she positioned the arm to her liking.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
1849"You're gonna be just fine," she said and Patrick nodded before he
1850realized she was talking to Rebecca now.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
1851Her eyes focused on him and stayed there. She squeezed his hand and he smiled
1852at her. Had he ever told her she had the prettiest eyes he'd ever seen? Of
1853course he hadn't.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
1854He wanted to tell her she could count on him. Right now. For as long as she
1855wanted or needed. She could set aside that fierce independence and lean on him.
1856And it didn't have to mean anything. But instead, he didn't say anything and he
1857knew he would regret it.<br class="calibre9"/><br class="calibre9"/></p>
1858
1859<p class="calibre10"><a name="ch21"></a><strong class="calibre7">CHAPTER</strong><b class="calibre7"><br class="calibre6"/><strong class="calibre7">21</strong></b></p>
1860
1861<p class="MsoNormal1">Asante lost the GPS signal
1862halfway to the airport. That happened sometimes with control towers and radar
1863from incoming and outgoing airlines. It didn't matter. He needed to let Danko
1864handle the loose ends while he moved on to the next phase. There could be
1865nothing that got in the way.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
1866The snow tapered off. Trucks with blades and sand were already out on the
1867streets. Asante had to slow for them. As soon as he'd speed up again he'd have
1868to hit the brakes and skid around nervous drivers. The first snow of the season
1869and everyone seemed to have forgotten how to drive. He had counted on that fact
1870as being an advantage. Now it was simply annoying.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
1871He caught his eyes in the rearview mirror. The adrenaline had been replaced by
1872anxiety. He told those simmering blue eyes to stay calm, to be patient. Then he
1873took several deep breaths, holding each one before letting it out slow and
1874easy.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
1875He told himself that no project ran completely without flaws. The brilliance of
1876a project manager like himself relied on his ability to react and readjust. And
1877at the same time he had to make it look effortless, to cast the illusion of
1878calm, to let his crew see only confidence, nothing less.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
1879Though handpicked they were followers at heart when you peeled away their
1880individual layers of talent, whether those talents included technosavvy
1881intelligence or physical strength. Asante believed he possessed a gift in
1882reading other people, seeing potential where others saw mediocrity. But he
1883could also detect weakness. Everyone had some vulnerability no matter how well
1884hidden. Asante could find it and, if necessary, exploit it.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
1885From his inner circle, he insisted on perfection. He expected nothing less.
1886Anyone chosen for his crew knew this. Being selected was a commendation as well
1887as a burden. Glitches were unacceptable. A weak link could be quickly removed
1888and the removal was permanent. This is what made him a great project manager.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
1889He set the small computer on the dash to see the screen better. Before he could
1890press any of the preset buttons a call buzzed in. He checked his phone. He
1891didn't recognize the number though he often instructed his crew to use prepaid
1892cell phones to prevent tracking.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
1893"Asante," he answered into his wireless headset.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
1894"You tried to use my grandson," an angry voice came back at him.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
1895Asante knew immediately who it was. He had already been warned that the man
1896might be a problem. "How did you get this number?"<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
1897"What the hell did you think you were doing?"<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
1898"Once the project has begun no one has control but me. Those are the
1899rules."<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
1900"You meant to kill him, didn't you, you asshole."<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
1901"Nor are you to have any contact with me." Asante kept his voice calm
1902and steady even as he disconnected the call.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
1903With one hand clenching the steering wheel and the other on the phone's keypad
1904he tapped several keys, ensuring that number would be blocked.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
1905He checked his eyes again in the rearview mirror, disappointed to find the
1906anxiety turning to anger. Calm. He needed to stay calm. He flexed his fingers
1907and stretched his neck from side to side.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
1908Despite the man's fury and accusation, his grandson, Dixon Lee, had not been a
1909mistake or a glitch. Asante allowed himself a smile. Dead or alive, Dixon Lee
1910had been a well-planned insurance policy. Another quick glance in the mirror.
1911Nobody messed with the Project Manager once the project began. Nobody. Not even
1912the assholes who special ordered the project.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
1913Asante turned into the long-term parking lot at the airport and found a space at
1914the far end, close to where he had stolen the car earlier. He gathered up his
1915belongings, stuffing them into the duffel bag. Then he wiped down every single
1916surface inside the car that he had touched. He left the car just as the airport
1917shuttle pulled into the lot. He glanced at his diver's watch. Plenty of time.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
1918He took another deep breath. He hated glitches. In the old days he could
1919predict and ward off every single one. Perhaps it was time to retire. Buy an
1920island somewhere. He had more than enough money stashed safely away in Zurich,
1921even before this project. He deserved the rest. A nice long relaxation,
1922something more substantial than the short escapes that lasted only as long as a
1923box of Cubans and a couple bottles of Chivas.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
1924Instead of focusing on glitches, instead of thinking about Carrier #3 Asante
1925reminded himself of other successes. It calmed him to run past projects through
1926his mind step by step—the early planning, the stages and then the denouement.
1927So when Asante boarded the shuttle bus he nodded to the driver with a brief
1928smile and in his mind he began the playback of Madrid, March 11,
19292004…backpacks, the train station at rush hour, bright flashes of light and
1930most of all…success.<br class="calibre9"/><br class="calibre9"/></p>
1931
1932<p class="calibre10"><a name="ch22"></a><strong class="calibre7">CHAPTER</strong><b class="calibre7"><br class="calibre6"/><strong class="calibre7">22</strong></b></p>
1933
1934<p class="MsoNormal1"><i class="calibre8">Saint Mary's Hospital</i><br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
1935Henry Lee paced the hallway, unclenching his fists only long enough to drag
1936nervous fingers over his bristled head and rub the disbelief from his eyes. At
1937sixty-eight he was still vain enough to take pride in his compact, fit and trim
1938physique. He was strong and healthy and unlike his father and grandfather Henry
1939had done everything in his control to prevent hereditary heart disease from
1940shortening his golden years. Everything, that is, except to make sure that his
1941wife, his sweetheart, his Hannah, had also stayed healthy. It was simply
1942inconceivable to him that she was in surgery right here, right now undergoing
1943the emergency triple bypass that Henry thought for certain he had dodged.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
1944He couldn't help wondering if this was some cruel punishment from God though he
1945thought he had given up on the foolishness of His existence years ago. No God
1946Henry could believe in would take away a daughter as murderously as his own had
1947been taken. Hannah was always the one, the believer, the healer, wanting to
1948make sense out of madness. She was Henry's lifeline, his common sense, his
1949sanity. He couldn't bear to lose her. And then to find out that he almost lost
1950his grandson on the very same day. If God did exist He was, indeed, cruel and
1951vindictive.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
1952Henry looked for the boy, again, checking the waiting room and glancing around
1953the corner. Earlier Dixon had come to the hospital when summoned, physically
1954distraught about his grandmother, his eyes red-rimmed, his fingernails bitten
1955to the quick. When he said he had just come from the mall Henry thought his own
1956heart had stopped, realizing what could have happened had he not called the
1957boy.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
1958While the first reports came in about a possible terrorist attack at the mall,
1959the boy remained quiet. The two of them watched the wall-mounted TV while
1960sitting silently side by side in the surgery waiting room. No one else was
1961there, except for a few staff members wandering in and out. No surgeries were
1962planned the day after Thanksgiving other than emergency ones. It took several
1963reports before Dixon—in between gnawing at his poor thumbnail—confessed and
1964explained about his friends and how they had convinced Dixon to help them. The
1965whole time Henry felt the blood drain from his face.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
1966"We were told we were carrying electronic jamming devices," Dixon
1967told him, his eyes darting around, teeth nipping at another fingernail. "I
1968think it might have been something else."<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
1969"That's impossible," Henry said but he knew it to be quite the
1970opposite. "I told you to stay away from those two."<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
1971"We've been friends since third grade."<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
1972"Doesn't matter. They're trouble."<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
1973"I've got to find out if they're okay," Dixon told him. "Can I
1974borrow your phone?"<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
1975The boy was so distraught Henry handed over his smartphone without hesitating.
1976It was better he make his own calls from the hospital's public phones. They
1977were less likely to be traced. He certainly didn't want the calls immortalized
1978on his monthly statement.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
1979He dialed the second number, this one from memory instead of a crumpled piece
1980of paper, his fingers still shaking from the first call.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
1981"Hello?"<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
1982"Allan, it's Henry. We need to have a meeting."<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
1983"For what reason?"<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
1984"We need to reconsider."<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
1985"Reconsider?"<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
1986"Yes. We need to stop this."<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
1987Henry expected anger. He was prepared for it. He wasn't prepared, however, for
1988laughter.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
1989He held the phone away from his ear and closed his eyes tight against the
1990sudden pain of his clenched jaw muscles, an involuntary reaction from his early
1991days as a boxer preparing for an upper left. This was worse than any punch.
1992When the laughter silenced he brought the phone back to his ear.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
1993"There's no stopping this now. Go home, Henry. Get some sleep."<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
1994A dial tone erupted in Henry's ear before he could respond.<br class="calibre9"/><br class="calibre9"/></p>
1995
1996<p class="calibre10"><a name="ch23"></a><strong class="calibre7">CHAPTER</strong><b class="calibre7"><br class="calibre6"/><strong class="calibre7">23</strong></b></p>
1997
1998<p class="MsoNormal1">It was twilight by the time
1999their motorcade of black SUVs idled at the first set of police barricades
2000surrounding the mall. Maggie couldn't help but notice that the short ride from
2001the airport yielded a breathtakingly beautiful sunset, the sky clear now except
2002for the pink-purple streaks. The only evidence of a recent storm was the
2003glittering snow that blanketed everything in sight. That and the cold, a bitter
2004cold that you could see in breaths that streamed from brief greetings while
2005getting in and out of vehicles.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
2006"Looks like even the national vultures have already arrived," A.D.
2007Kunze said as they passed by a lopsided line of vans and trucks with TV call
2008letters on their sides and satellite receivers on their roofs. A helicopter
2009flew overhead.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
2010"It's all part of the process," Senator Foster told them, looking out
2011at the reporters and cameramen assembling equipment as close to the action as
2012possible.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
2013Maggie noticed the senator straighten his tie in the reflection of the SUV's
2014window. At first she thought she was mistaken. Perhaps it was an absentminded
2015habit. But then he brushed a hand over his silver hair. She glanced at Deputy
2016Director Wurth, expecting to exchange an eye roll and instead found him doing
2017the same.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
2018"This isn't gonna be pretty," Kunze warned. "I was on the site
2019at Oklahoma City. I'm telling you, nothing smells worse than charred
2020flesh." He pulled out of his pocket a small container of Vicks VapoRub,
2021unscrewed the lid and offered it to the others.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
2022Maggie declined. She had actually smelled charred flesh before.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
2023"I didn't think anything could smell worse than bloated flesh," Wurth
2024said, but dipped his finger in the proffered container and smeared a dab over
2025his lip.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
2026And she'd smelled bloated flesh, too. Maggie remembered without much prompting.
2027She knew Wurth's experience had been with hurricane victims. Her own was from
2028floaters, victims whose killers chose a watery grave hoping to dehumanize and
2029impersonalize them even more.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
2030Senator Foster hesitated at Kunze's offer, watching as the interim director
2031rubbed a generous fingertipful over his own lip and even up into his nostrils.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
2032"I certainly don't want to get in the way of people trying to do their
2033jobs," Senator Foster finally said. "I'm here to show my
2034support."<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
2035Kunze and Wurth nodded. Maggie refrained and kept herself from saying,
2036"Sure, why not take advantage of some free reelection publicity without
2037dealing with the gruesome reality." She watched A.D. Kunze and as they all
2038got out of the SUV and made their way to the entrance she couldn't help
2039wondering if that's exactly why Kunze was here. A high-profile case could turn
2040his interim title into a permanent one. But why drag her along?<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
2041It was time to find out.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
2042"I'll need someone from security to show me where I can view the
2043tapes," she told Kunze as she trudged through the snow alongside him.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
2044Maggie was grateful she remembered the slipover boots. Kunze jerked twice
2045trying to keep his balance. It was good timing on her part. He didn't question
2046or challenge her, instead he simply said, "Yeah, yeah, of course."<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
2047As soon as they got inside Kunze grabbed Wurth by the elbow, already taking
2048control.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
2049"We need access to those security tapes, Charlie."<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
2050"Not a problem." But Wurth's eyes were already upward along with his
2051attention. Maggie realized the man couldn't wait to get to the third floor.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
2052Kunze noticed the distraction, too. "The sooner we connect the bombers the
2053sooner we can get some warrants."<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
2054"Of course," Wurth said, tugging off his gloves and stuffing them
2055into his pocket with one hand while the other hand started punching numbers
2056into his cell phone. "I'll get someone down here."<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
2057"And Charlie, I sure hope to hell your local guys thought to secure those
2058videos," Kunze said.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
2059"Not to worry. Of course they took care of everything. Just hang on,
2060okay?"<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
2061"I'm just saying I better not see videos of those backpacks on the local
2062news."<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
2063"We've got it taken care of, Ray."<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
2064Maggie stayed back. She'd been a part of these multijurisdictional cases
2065before. She knew all the collegial talk from the flight here was over. It was
2066time to let the pissing contest begin.<br class="calibre9"/><br class="calibre9"/></p>
2067
2068<p class="calibre10"><a name="ch24"></a><strong class="calibre7">CHAPTER</strong><b class="calibre7"><br class="calibre6"/><strong class="calibre7">24</strong></b></p>
2069
2070<p class="MsoNormal1">Nick allowed Yarden to cue up
2071the video for him. He had already tagged several segments from cameras on the
2072third floor, particular instances that had drawn attention before the bombs
2073went off.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
2074"We were watching them," the little man told Nick, as his long
2075fingers flew around the computer keyboard, poking with incredible ease and
2076efficiency. "Shoplifters often use backpacks. And they'll work in teams.
2077That's what we thought was going on."<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
2078Yarden sat back and let the first video play. He folded his arms over his
2079chest, shooting glances at Nick, as if anxious for his reaction. Nick leaned
2080forward. The film was grainy, black and white but the angle was decent. The
2081backpacks looked ordinary. Not trendy. Big and bulky and, from the shift in
2082this young man's walk, heavy.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
2083Yarden keyed up another video on a second monitor, but left the first playing.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
2084The second young man was shaggy-headed, a bit shorter and thin. The backpack
2085was identical.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
2086At first glance it bothered Nick that these guys looked like older versions of
2087his nephew, Timmy and his friend, Gibson. Clean-cut young men, ordinary with
2088confident strides. There were no slumped shoulders. No shifty eyes or heads
2089darting from side to side. They didn't look at all like nerds or social
2090misfits. Nothing like perhaps Klebold or Harris who had been responsible for
2091the Columbine school shootings.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
2092What was even more disturbing to Nick was that they didn't look anything like
2093he expected a suicide bomber to look. Did he expect brown-skinned Arabs? Yeah,
2094he did. And he knew he wasn't alone. Someone suggests suicide bomber and the
2095mind readily conjures up that racial profile.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
2096"They aren't exactly what you'd expect, are they?" Yarden asked as if
2097he could hear Nick's thoughts.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
2098"No. Not exactly." He avoided glancing at Yarden, wanting to at least
2099appear objective. He suspected the security officer was looking for Nick's
2100approval, hoping to bond, confidants taking sides in what could turn into a
2101finger-pointing showdown. "Do you have any decent front facial
2102shots?"<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
2103"All of us have been upstairs helping." Yarden suddenly sounded
2104offended. "I only had a few minutes with these before I left to pick you
2105up."<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
2106"Sure. I understand."<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
2107"I thought that was supposed to be your job."<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
2108"Yes, you're absolutely right." Nick could play the diplomat if
2109needed.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
2110"I found a flash. And one of the explosions." Yarden started stabbing
2111at the computer keys again, ready to please and make up for not having what was
2112requested. He fast-forwarded a video clip, shoppers in full-speed animation.
2113Then he stopped and freeze-framed, taking a few more seconds and zooming in
2114before he started the video again.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
2115Nick watched, amazed that even without sound the wall of bricks exploding in
2116front of him made him wince.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
2117"Where is this camera?"<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
2118"All of these are third floor. This one is around the corner from the food
2119court."<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
2120"Play it again," Nick asked. "Only this time in slow-mode. And
2121zoom out."<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
2122"Zoom out?"<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
2123"Yes." He didn't even glance at Yarden to acknowledge his skepticism.
2124Instead, Nick leaned forward and waited.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
2125The shot took in the entire stretch of the long hallway, brick walls on both
2126sides. One side had interruptions of doorways. The other was solid. Signs hung
2127above the doorways and in several other locations. Nick watched the wall
2128explode again. It was the side with the interruptions.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
2129"What's on the other side of that brick wall?"<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
2130"There's not much down this hallway. Some offices. Restrooms."<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
2131"Play it again," he asked.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
2132This time just before the wall exploded, Nick pointed at the monitor.
2133"Stop."<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
2134Yarden responded quickly.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
2135"Zoom in on this sign."<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
2136Yarden obeyed immediately, no hesitation.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
2137The sign read WOMEN.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
2138"Is the men's restroom next door?" Nick asked.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
2139Yarden quickly consulted a map of the third floor that was spread out across a
2140bulletin board.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
2141"The men's restroom is clear down at the end of this hall and,"
2142Yarden said, his voice higher than normal, "on the opposite side."<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
2143"So this explosion came from—"<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
2144"The women's restroom."<br class="calibre9"/><br class="calibre9"/></p>
2145
2146<p class="calibre10"><a name="ch25"></a><strong class="calibre7">CHAPTER</strong><b class="calibre7"><br class="calibre6"/><strong class="calibre7">25</strong></b></p>
2147
2148<p class="MsoNormal1">Before he went through the
2149security checkpoint Asante found the airport restroom labeled FAMILY. The
2150single room was larger than he remembered: one toilet, a sink and counter with
2151a changing table and most importantly, a bolted lock on the door. It was
2152perfect. No one would bother him here.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
2153He checked his watch as he hung the garment bag on the door hook. He still had
2154plenty of time to catch his flight. While he unpacked the essentials from his
2155duffel bag he turned on and adjusted his over-the-ear wireless headset. He
2156tapped a number and put aside the phone.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
2157One ring and an answer. "Yes?"<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
2158"Give me an update," he said as he dug out of the duffel bag a
2159compact, but expensive and powerful electric shaver, zipping it out of its case
2160and setting both aside for now.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
2161"Text messages indicate Dixon is at the hospital."<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
2162"He's okay?" Asante chose his words carefully. But then he already
2163knew the boy was alive. His grandfather had as much as confirmed that in his
2164angry phone call.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
2165"His grandmother is having emergency heart surgery. Rebecca is on her
2166way."<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
2167"So they're together?" He punched up the map of the mall's third
2168floor on his computer screen.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
2169"She asked what he got her into."<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
2170Asante slid his finger over the small computer screen, zooming in on the map
2171where Carrier #3's bomb had exploded. GPS devices were packed in the backpacks,
2172but every carrier was also given a brand-new iPhone so they could track both
2173carrier and bomb in case one of them decided to leave the backpack behind. He
2174had chosen to keep them all on one floor, the combined blasts close to each
2175other, causing the greatest structural damage as well as creating a larger
2176blast area. That had been his priority. Now he checked to see exactly where
2177Carrier #3's backpack was when it exploded. Zooming in he could see it quite
2178plainly: the women's restroom. The young woman not only had Dixon Lee's iPhone,
2179she had been carrying his backpack.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
2180"Sir?"<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
2181"Continue."<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
2182"Her name is Rebecca Cory. She's a student at the University of New Haven,
2183a resident of Hartford, Connecticut. Her father is William Cory of—"<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
2184"Credit cards? ATM card? Driver's license?" he interrupted as he
2185peeled off his clothes. He didn't need to know the entire portfolio they had
2186amassed. Just those details that mattered.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
2187"ATM card through First Bank of Hartford," the female voice
2188continued, pleasant and soothing as though she were reciting menu items for a
2189special dinner. "She took out a cash withdrawal of fifty dollars two days
2190ago in Toledo. However, a MasterCard looks to be her choice of payment. She
2191uses it for everyday incidentals. Up until two days ago, a daily Starbucks
2192charge in West Haven. Connecticut driver's license."<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
2193"Revoke all three. Immediately."<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
2194"Yes, sir."<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
2195"I want her feeling disabled." He stood before the mirror now in only
2196socks and boxers, thinking this is exactly how he wanted Rebecca Cory—stripped
2197and vulnerable. Figuratively speaking. At least until it was safe to kill her.
2198"Tell Danko that he can find the girl and Dixon Lee at the hospital."<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
2199"And if he does?"<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
2200"Extract both."<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
2201"Yes, sir."<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
2202Asante would find another way to use the boy. An extra cutaway when the time
2203was right. A bargaining chip, perhaps.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
2204"What about the other young man?" he asked.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
2205"His name is Patrick Murphy. I'm still working on him."<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
2206Asante gave her instructions for what came next, including what to do with
2207Murphy. Before he hung up he gave her a new contact number to use. Then Asante
2208removed the SIM card from the cell phone, destroyed it, and flushed it down the
2209toilet. The portable memory chip held all the traceable data including personal
2210identity information and a record of incoming as well as outgoing calls. From
2211the duffel bag pocket he pulled out a new SIM card and slid it into the cell
2212phone. In seconds he keyed in the password for his wireless headset, punched in
2213a couple of codes and the phone was as good as new and ready to use. He put it
2214and the headset on the sink, safely out of his way.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
2215The shaver indicated that it was fully charged. Within seconds he shaved off
2216his goatee. He reset the shaver's rotating heads so they wouldn't go all the
2217way to the skin but would leave a half inch. Then he started path after path
2218over his head, watching the dark hair, some of it three to four inches long,
2219fall to the sink.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
2220Next came the hair color. The formula was his own special mixture. He squirted
2221it into the palms of his hands and rubbed it over the new stubble, watching his
2222hair turn honey-colored before his eyes. He massaged it into his eyebrows, too.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
2223Cleanup took only a few minutes. Everything he no longer needed, including the
2224syringe, was flushed away or washed down the drain. The hiking boots went into
2225the trash can along with the rest of his clothes. From the garment bag he
2226unzipped an expensive suit, navy blue and tailored to fit him perfectly, as did
2227the white shirt. He left the collar open and stuffed the tie in the duffel bag.
2228He replaced his over-the-ear wireless headset and tucked the cell phone into
2229his breast pocket.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
2230Finished with discarding the Project Manager, he flipped open his wallet to his
2231driver's license and held it up. Once again, he looked like Robert Asante, an
2232ordinary businessman traveling to his next appointment. More importantly, the
2233man in the mirror matched the man in the driver's license photo.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
2234It was time to move on to the next site. Time for the next stage of the
2235project.<br class="calibre9"/><br class="calibre9"/></p>
2236
2237<p class="calibre10"><a name="ch26"></a><strong class="calibre7">CHAPTER</strong><b class="calibre7"><br class="calibre6"/><strong class="calibre7">26</strong></b></p>
2238
2239<p class="MsoNormal1">"We already have our
2240company investigator reviewing the tapes," the small man named Jerry
2241Yarden told Maggie as he led her through a back hallway.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
2242Maggie couldn't believe it. The security company was reviewing its own tapes?
2243She stopped herself from asking whose authority and what protocol gave them
2244that go-ahead? She'd learned years ago that questioning the locals risked
2245offending them. The result only made her job tougher. It was better if they
2246believed she was on their side. Most people already believed that federal law
2247enforcement would sooner point fingers and place blame than present solutions
2248and share credit.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
2249"I understand someone in security noticed the young men before the bombs
2250went off?"<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
2251"Oh yeah, we noticed. Three identical red backpacks." He glanced back
2252at her over his shoulder, not slowing his rapid, almost erratic pace. "You
2253betcha we noticed."<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
2254Yarden was Maggie's height, small-framed but long-limbed, arms pumping and
2255swinging loosely as he walked. He reminded Maggie of a propeller with a thatch
2256of red unruly hair.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
2257"How did you know they were red?"<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
2258"Excuse me?"<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
2259"Your surveillance cameras are black-and-white, right?"<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
2260"Oh sure. We started following them up on the floor," Yarden
2261explained. "We're trained to watch what people bring into the mall with
2262them. We see something suspicious, we follow on the floor. You know, large
2263purses, shopping bags with return items, backpacks, even baby strollers. We had
2264a woman last month sneaking cashmere sweaters under her baby. You'd be
2265surprised what people do."<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
2266Maggie smiled to herself. Actually she wouldn't be surprised.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
2267His Midwest manners kept track of her, politely leading the way and holding
2268doors open. Now he pointed to a door at the end of the hall.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
2269"We thought they were shoplifters," he said. "None of us
2270expected those backpacks to have bombs in them."<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
2271He beat her by four lengths to the end of the hallway, yanked the door and
2272again held it open for her, his feet spread apart and both arms engaged like
2273the door was a ton of lead. She pushed aside the fact that she could probably
2274bench-press Yarden's weight let alone hold open the door for herself. Instead
2275she thanked him and stepped inside.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
2276He led her through a maze of offices and back to another door. When he opened
2277this one she immediately noticed the room was dim and lit from only the wall of
2278monitors, four rows of ten across with a long control panel of keypads,
2279switches and color-coded buttons.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
2280Sitting at the panel with his back to them was the lone investigator,
2281square-shouldered, dark hair. There was something familiar about the man.
2282Before he swiveled around Maggie recognized Nick Morrelli.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
2283He, however, was not prepared. He did a double take, looking from Yarden to
2284Maggie and back to Maggie.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
2285"Fancy seeing you here," he said with his trademark smile, the one
2286that employed dimples and white teeth in the glow of the computer monitors.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
2287"Hi Nick."<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
2288"You two know each other?" Yarden seemed disappointed.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
2289"We've worked together before," Maggie answered, leaving it at that
2290and watching to see if Nick would be compelled to add more. "So you've
2291left the D.A.'s office? You're an investigator now?"<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
2292"For United Allied Security."<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
2293"Yes, the mall's security company. Do the local authorities know you've
2294been reviewing the videotapes?" Maggie asked Nick but looked back at
2295Yarden who avoided her eyes. Finally Yarden nodded, his head the only part of
2296him in motion now, arms glued to his sides. He reminded her of a bobble-head.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
2297"Yeah, no problem there," Yarden said, still nodding. "They've
2298got their hands full, you know?"<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
2299She noticed his cadence grew faster with a slightly higher pitch in relation to
2300his amount of guilt. Even the tips of his ears grew red.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
2301"We're only here to help," Nick told her but Maggie knew from
2302experience that Morrelli's loyalties were sometimes divided, and often resulted
2303in something close to personal quicksand.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
2304Four years ago Nick Morrelli had been county sheriff of a small Nebraska
2305community that was held hostage by a killer—a killer who was targeting young
2306boys. To solve the case Morrelli had struggled to abandon a lifetime of loyalty
2307to his father, the previous sheriff, in order to save his nephew. Maggie and
2308Nick's paths had crossed several times over the years but most recently last
2309summer when, once again, Maggie had been sent to Nebraska to profile another
2310killer. This time Nick's loyalty to a childhood friend had almost jeopardized
2311the case.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
2312"Well then, so you two know each other," Yarden said, anxious to
2313break the silence and ease the tension. "That should make this easier,
2314right?" The little man spun a chair around and held it for Maggie.
2315"Ms. O'Dell—"<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
2316"Agent O'Dell," Nick corrected.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
2317"Oh yeah, right. Agent O'Dell."<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
2318She sat in the proffered seat, next to Nick, giving him only a glance and
2319focusing her attention instead on the wall of monitors. They had been cueing
2320the tapes, stopping them at important intervals. Over a half dozen of the
2321screens were already freeze-framed.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
2322"As you can see, all we've been doing is tagging segments that might be
2323relevant." Nick waved a hand at the screens. "Isn't that right,
2324Jerry?"<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
2325"Right. There's an awful lot of tape to look at. We're just trying to
2326narrow it down. We're not discarding anything. We're just looking and
2327tagging."<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
2328Maggie almost felt sorry for the nervous little man. She could hardly tell him
2329to relax, that it was Nick Morrelli she didn't fully trust and not Mr. Yarden
2330whom she had only met moments ago.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
2331"Agent O'Dell will need to see the carriers," Yarden said quickly,
2332grabbing the opportunity to move on. He took the seat on the other side of
2333Maggie. "The tapes are grainy at best." Even before he scooted his
2334chair forward his fingers were flying over the control panel. "We work on
2335a three-second system. That is the camera takes a shot every three seconds.
2336It's not continuous, so it might seem a bit jerky if you're not used to
2337it."<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
2338"Do you have a Z97 filter or HDzoom pack?"<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
2339Yarden's fingers stopped in midflight and he looked at her with obvious
2340admiration. Not only did she understand the three-second system but also the
2341new state-of-the-art technology.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
2342"We don't have anything quite as sophisticated," Yarden said,
2343glancing over to Nick as if he was to blame, being the company's highest
2344authority on the premises.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
2345"The company is considering updates," Nick said almost too quickly.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
2346Maggie heard a bit of defensiveness in Nick's tone. She ignored it and focused
2347instead on Yarden who was cueing up segments for her to view on monitor after
2348monitor.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
2349"This is one of them." He pointed at the first screen.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
2350Maggie leaned forward. Nick didn't. Had he already seen these? Of course, he
2351had. She wondered how long Morrelli and Yarden had been at it.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
2352From the grainy quality of the video all Maggie could decipher was that the man
2353was average height, clean-cut. He was wearing jeans, a jacket with maybe a logo
2354on the shoulder, and tennis shoes. There was nothing extraordinary about him.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
2355She felt the two men watching her, gauging her reaction, waiting.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
2356Yarden added more views, cueing monitor after monitor until there was a line of
2357grainy freeze-framed images of two different young men with the same backpack
2358walking separately through the crowded mall. Only one instance showed the two
2359of them together.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
2360"I thought there were three?"<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
2361"Oh yeah, there were three all right." Yarden's fingers started
2362poking the keys again. "The third one came in with a young woman and
2363another man." He brought up the segment. "We followed him to the food
2364court. Then we…we sort of lost him. We don't have many camera angles on that
2365area and no cameras actually in the food court."<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
2366"What about the woman and the other man? Were they involved?"<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
2367When Yarden didn't answer Maggie sat back and glanced over at him. He and Nick
2368were exchanging another look. Yarden's ruddy complexion had gone pale. Nick
2369started searching the monitors.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
2370"What is it?" Maggie asked.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
2371"We think one of the bombs went off in the women's restroom," Nick
2372told her as his eyes darted from screen to screen. "You may have just
2373answered our question as to how that could have happened."<br class="calibre9"/><br class="calibre9"/></p>
2374
2375<p class="calibre10"><a name="ch27"></a><strong class="calibre7">CHAPTER</strong><b class="calibre7"><br class="calibre6"/><strong class="calibre7">27</strong></b></p>
2376
2377<p class="MsoNormal1">For a few minutes Rebecca was
2378back in the bedroom she grew up in, light filtering through yellow gauze
2379curtains, the sound of windchimes outside her second floor window. She could
2380smell fried bacon and imagined her parents down in the kitchen, her mom setting
2381the Sunday breakfast table with bright-colored placemats and long-stem glasses
2382for their orange juice. Her dad would be playing short-order cook, waiting for
2383Rebecca before he started his performance of flipping the pancakes. Those
2384Sunday mornings weren't for show. Her parents really had been happy, the banter
2385out of love not jealousy. She wanted to sink down and soothe herself in that
2386moment, that feeling of calm and security. If only she could ignore the prick
2387at her skin, the ache in her arm, that deep burning sensation.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
2388Her eyes fluttered open. She willed them to stay closed. They wouldn't listen.
2389The blur around her swirled images and noise together. Before her eyes could
2390focus she started to remember: holiday music, Dixon laughing, Patrick smiling.
2391And then…backpacks exploding.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
2392Rebecca didn't realize that she had tried to sit up until she felt hands on her
2393shoulders pushing her back down.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
2394"It's okay."<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
2395She recognized the voice and searched for it. Patrick's face bobbed in front of
2396her, slowly coming into focus. There was no smile, only concern. And she tried
2397to remember—how badly had she been hurt? The image of a severed arm lying next
2398to her made her twist around to check both her own. One was wrapped. The other
2399had a needle and tubes in it. But both were there, attached.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
2400"You're all right, sugar," a woman's voice said from someplace over
2401Rebecca's head. "Just relax and lie still a bit."<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
2402"Do you remember what happened?" Patrick asked.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
2403She nodded. Her throat felt like sandpaper. She tried to wet her lips. Patrick
2404noticed, fumbled around then brought a bottle of water to her mouth. He was
2405gentle, giving her sips when she wanted to gulp. She knew he saw her
2406frustration but still he insisted on sips.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
2407"Where are we?"<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
2408"The hotel across the street," he said.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
2409"Where?"<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
2410"Across the street from the mall. They set up a triage area here."<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
2411"But the hospital…I thought we were going to the hospital."<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
2412"It's okay." He took her hand. "They were able to take care of
2413you here. You don't need to go to the hospital."<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
2414She sat up again. This time Patrick helped her instead of holding her back
2415down. Her eyes scanned the room, searching through the chaos for the man with
2416the syringe.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
2417"He's not here," Patrick told her. "I've been watching."<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
2418She avoided his eyes and continued her own search. The man with the syringe
2419knew she was still alive. She wiped at her forehead despite the poke of the
2420needle. Her skin was clammy with sweat and she still felt light-headed. Dixon's
2421message rattled in her mind. He said she wasn't safe. That she couldn't trust
2422anyone. Not even Patrick.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
2423Did the man with the syringe give up because he knew she was with Patrick and
2424he couldn't get to her? Or did he no longer <i class="calibre8">need</i> to get to her because
2425she was with Patrick?<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
2426Rebecca glanced at her friend. His hair was tousled, his jaw bristled with dark
2427stubble. His eyes watched her with an intensity she wasn't used to seeing. What
2428was it? Concern, panic, fatigue? Or something else?<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
2429How well did she really know Patrick Murphy?<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
2430"You okay?" he asked as he reached for her hand again.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
2431She pulled back, grabbing her bandaged arm as if in pain.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
2432"Did they give me anything? Like for the pain?"<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
2433"I think she just localized it." Patrick was already looking around
2434for a nurse or paramedic. "Does it hurt pretty bad?"<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
2435Now there was no doubt—concern filled his eyes when he looked back at her.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
2436"Could you see if they have some Advil or something?"<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
2437"Yeah, sure. I'll be right back."<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
2438Rebecca watched him zigzag through the triage groups and head for a nearby
2439exit. She patted down her pockets carefully and stopped when she saw him glance
2440back. He disappeared from sight and she twisted around to find her coat.
2441Quickly she found Dixon's iPhone. It was turned off. She decided to keep it
2442off.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
2443She scooted to the edge of the covered table, almost forgetting the needle and
2444IV tube in her arm. Another glance over her shoulder. No Patrick. She bit down
2445on her lower lip and pulled the needle out, bending her elbow to stop any
2446bleeding. Then she eased off the table, awkwardly, without use of her hands and
2447trying not to notice the ache in her bandaged arm.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
2448Still no sign of Patrick. She saw an EXIT sign in the other direction and
2449that's where she headed. Within minutes she made her way through the crowded
2450lobby and found an ATM. No one noticed her. There was too much commotion. She
2451kept her head down but her eyes darted around everywhere. She slipped her debit
2452card into the machine, keyed in her PIN and waited. She'd get enough cash for a
2453cab ride, something to eat. Maybe she'd better get enough for a hotel room, but
2454someplace near the hospital.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
2455The card spit out of the machine and the display screen blinked: CARD REFUSED.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/><i class="calibre8">There had to be a mistake.</i><br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
2456She'd used this debit card a couple of times on their trip and in various
2457locations. She knew she still had about $425 in the account. She slid the card
2458back in and before she could key in the PIN the machine spit it out again,
2459repeating the message.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
2460Rebecca glanced around. Still, no one paid attention to her. There was too much
2461chaos in and out to notice her sudden panic.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
2462She pulled out her one and only credit card. She'd taken a cash advance from
2463the card last month. She had a substantial cash allowance available but had
2464disciplined herself to use it only as a last resort. This definitely qualified.
2465She slid the credit card into the machine, waited and typed in the PIN. Maybe
2466she'd better take out extra, especially if her debit card wasn't working. Just
2467to be safe. All she had in her pockets was the change left from a twenty.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
2468The machine spit this card out, too. CARD REFUSED.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
2469Don't panic, she told herself. There's just something wrong with this machine.
2470She'd find another ATM. No big deal.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
2471She found the exit with confident strides through the midst of rescue personnel
2472and bloodied shoppers. She was in good shape compared to them. That's what she
2473kept telling herself. Then she pushed through the side door and she was
2474outside. When had it gotten dark?<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
2475The cold hit her in the face. She had to catch her breath. It had started
2476snowing again. The wind whipped around her. On this side of the hotel there
2477were only lights in the corners of the parking lot. And suddenly the confidence
2478seemed to slide right out of her. She was all alone. Nothing new there. She was
2479used to being on her own. So why did this time feel like she was sliding off a
2480cliff?<br class="calibre9"/><br class="calibre9"/></p>
2481
2482<p class="calibre10"><a name="ch28"></a><strong class="calibre7">CHAPTER</strong><b class="calibre7"><br class="calibre6"/><strong class="calibre7">28</strong></b></p>
2483
2484<p class="MsoNormal1">There wasn't much to go on, yet
2485Maggie made note of everything. Small details that appeared insignificant at
2486first glance, could end up breaking a case. Despite the grainy black-and-white
2487video she might find something. Except A.D. Kunze expected more than something.
2488He expected her to supply a conclusive profile, one irrefutable enough he could
2489use for a search warrant. He made it sound like she should have names,
2490addresses and social security numbers just by examining the black-and-white,
2491three-second delayed movements of these young homicide bombers.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
2492Unfortunately he wasn't the only one. Television and movies had turned
2493profiling into a sort of magic act that had people believing with a few clues
2494and a wave of the hand, you could pull the rabbit out of the hat, so to speak.
2495Even Kunze insisted there was a scientific formula—which was almost as bad as
2496magic—that if a suspect showed certain characteristics or traits—characteristic
2497number one, two and five from a theoretical psychological profiling chart—then,
2498of course, the suspect fit a specific category. Organized, disorganized. Anger,
2499vengeance. Ritualistic, chaotic. Two out of three and voilà, just look for the
2500nearest sociopathic narcissist with a speech impediment dressed in a
2501double-breasted navy blue suit. If only it were that easy.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
2502Maggie had a premed background, a bachelor's degree in criminal psychology and
2503a master's in behavioral psychology. Early in her career she had earned a
2504forensic fellowship at Quantico. Yet, even she believed profiling was more
2505about observation than anything else. The trick—if there was one—was seeing
2506what others missed, taking account of what may appear obvious to others. And
2507just as important as paying attention to what was left behind, you needed to
2508pay attention to what was absent.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
2509Notably absent in this case so far? Hours had passed and no one had taken
2510credit for the attack. Not even a suicide note or video…yet. Already it didn't
2511quite fit into a mass killing category like Virginia Tech or Columbine High
2512School. Also absent was that none of these young men looked nervous or anxious.
2513None of them seemed to fit the profile of a homicide bomber or a mass murderer.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
2514"Is this the one?" Yarden asked.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
2515He had been waiting on her almost to the point of being annoying. Ordinarily
2516she'd rather be left alone to run through each tape, over and over as many times
2517as necessary until she was sure no detail had gone unnoticed. But this was
2518Yarden's territory. Actually his mastery of the control panel and ability to
2519follow instructions were saving them valuable time.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
2520"Yes. If you could rewind it from when we first see him."<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
2521It was the track on the corner monitor from the third-floor camera in what
2522Yarden had marked as NW1. This would be the third time Maggie had asked to see
2523this particular track.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
2524There had to be something here that she was missing. What was she not seeing?<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
2525Yarden began the tape, fingers ready to freeze-frame or zoom in. But Maggie let
2526it play. She wanted to examine Bomber #1, focusing only on him, picking him out
2527of the distant crowd then watching as he got closer and closer.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
2528His head didn't swivel or dart around. His hands stayed by his side in a
2529comfortable, easy stride. There was nothing to indicate he was nervous or
2530anxious. He didn't glance around, worried about being followed. He didn't look
2531around for cameras, didn't even seem to care whether or not one caught him on
2532film.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
2533He wore a jacket, jeans, tennis shoes, a baseball cap. Nothing sagged, bulged
2534or flapped over to hide any weapons or to disguise his appearance. Nor was
2535there anything to indicate he belonged to a gang. No backward cap, no special
2536hand signals, no T-shirt with a message. He appeared to be dressed in regular
2537street clothes.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
2538Maggie guessed his age at somewhere between eighteen and twenty-six. Like the
2539others he was undeniably Caucasian. Light-colored hair curled over the collar
2540of his jacket but not over his ears. Sideburns were long but trimmed, and on
2541the morning after Thanksgiving, Maggie couldn't help but notice he had taken
2542time to shave. Was that something a twenty-year-old took time out to do,
2543especially if he knew he was going to the mall to blow himself up?<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
2544Maybe it meant nothing. She knew homicide bombers often followed their daily
2545routine even on the day of their deaths. They didn't want to alarm or tip off
2546family members or friends. Still, she wrote it down in her small notebook.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
2547She wasn't used to jotting things down. Never had a problem keeping it all in
2548her head. Writing stuff down, that was her partner, R.J. Tully. He scratched
2549out notes about everything and on anything that was available: a napkin, a dry
2550cleaning receipt, a ticket stub. Maggie had been content to commit details to
2551memory until A.D. Raymond Kunze came along. Now it seemed important to keep a
2552record of her thought process. He couldn't sideswipe her if there was
2553documentation. Suddenly she was becoming one of those bureaucrats she hated,
2554concerned about covering her ass. Was it that, or did she simply not want Kunze
2555to win, to break her spirit?<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
2556On the video Bomber #1 crossed right below the camera. Not even a glance in its
2557direction. Did he even know it was there? A clean-cut, good-looking,
2558college-aged guy with his entire future ahead of him. Nice clothes, athletic
2559physique, an air of confidence. She wanted him to look up, just for a second so
2560she could see his eyes. So that she might be able to get a glimpse of why he
2561did this? But she already knew. She had already seen this series three times
2562before and each time she had willed his eyes to glance up. Come on, just one
2563glance. And each time Bomber #1 simply walked on by.<br class="calibre9"/><br class="calibre9"/></p>
2564
2565<p class="calibre10"><a name="ch29"></a><strong class="calibre7">CHAPTER</strong><b class="calibre7"><br class="calibre6"/><strong class="calibre7">29</strong></b></p>
2566
2567<p class="MsoNormal1">Rebecca was gone.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
2568Patrick's first reaction was that she'd been taken against her will. Could that
2569paramedic psycho have followed them?<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/><i class="calibre8">Damn!</i> He knew he should never have left her alone. He had been so sure
2570the guy wouldn't dare try anything here in the crowded hotel ballroom where
2571triage sites with cots, IVs and real medics lined up one after another. Narrow
2572paths would make it difficult to drag anyone from the room without notice. Or
2573so Patrick thought. What if the guy managed to get to Rebecca and drug her?<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/><i class="calibre8">Stupid! How could he be so stupid?</i><br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
2574"You looking for your girlfriend?"<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
2575Patrick spun around. It was the old man who had been on the triage cot next to
2576Rebecca. His silver hair sprouted up out of the gauze that now wrapped his
2577head.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
2578"Have you seen her?"<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
2579"Yep. She left."<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
2580"By herself?"<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
2581Was it possible the guy was confused?<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
2582"As far as I could tell." He scratched at the gauze. "She just
2583got up and left."<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
2584"Just like that?"<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
2585"Just like that. Pulled the needle from her arm." He pointed at the
2586IV left on the cot.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
2587"Did you see where she went?"<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
2588The man pointed a crooked finger. Patrick had to turn and look over his
2589shoulder. There was an exit clear across the ballroom. That didn't make sense.
2590The closest exit was right behind her where Patrick had gone. She watched him
2591leave. If she was looking for him why would she head in the opposite direction?<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
2592"Are you sure?"<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
2593"Hey, I may have gotten knocked in the head but there's nothing wrong with
2594my eyesight."<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
2595"Sorry. It's just…"<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
2596"I know, I know," he nodded. "You're worried about her. She
2597didn't look so good. A little glassy-eyed, if you ask me."<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
2598Patrick pulled out his cell phone. No text messages. No voice messages. No
2599missed calls. He didn't know Dixon's iPhone number and Rebecca didn't have a
2600cell phone of her own. What was she thinking? Was she still in shock? Maybe she
2601didn't know what she was doing.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
2602He thanked the old man and headed for the exit. If she was disoriented, she
2603couldn't have gotten far.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
2604The exit opened to a common area. A table and folding chairs had been set up.
2605Two blue uniformed paramedics controlled the flow of the chaos. Patrick could
2606barely see the lobby through the crowd. To his right he saw a bank of elevators
2607and down the hall to the left, another exit. This one probably to the outside.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
2608Patrick stood looking from one area to the other. Which way did Rebecca go? He
2609couldn't imagine her fighting her way through the crowd. She hated crowds and
2610after what she'd just been through? But she wasn't herself. Maybe still in
2611shock. He'd learned how physically debilitating shock could be from his Fire
2612Science classes. If she wandered outside she might not realize how cold it was.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
2613He headed for the exit. Just as he pushed out the door he saw a man in a
2614uniform coming from the parking lot, headed for Patrick.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
2615"You. Wait a minute. Whatya think you're doing?"<br class="calibre9"/><br class="calibre9"/></p>
2616
2617<p class="calibre10"><a name="ch30"></a><strong class="calibre7">CHAPTER</strong><b class="calibre7"><br class="calibre6"/><strong class="calibre7">30</strong></b></p>
2618
2619<p class="MsoNormal1">Nick leaned back in his chair
2620and rubbed his hands over his face, his fingertips digging at the blur of
2621fatigue. He didn't need to look at his watch. The bristle on his jaw told him it
2622was late. His stomach reminded him he hadn't eaten since earlier in the day. He
2623had a headache. The room was too warm and too dark. The glare from the computer
2624monitors had sucked the liquid from his eyes. And of course it didn't help
2625matters that Maggie O'Dell sat next to him, so close he could smell the scent
2626of her, causing his mind to reel slightly off track—was it shampoo? Lotion?
2627Perfume?<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
2628They must have already looked at several miles' worth of tape, trying to find
2629the three young men and track their paths. They followed them through the mall
2630as best they could, accessing the appropriate camera view and going backward.
2631To get to the third floor, each of the young men had to come up one of the
2632escalators. To come into the mall, they had to enter through one of the
2633entrances. And so the reasoning took them, step by step, camera by camera,
2634segment by segment. It was tedious and now Maggie wanted to go back through
2635certain segments over and over again.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
2636Yarden was much more patient than Nick. He caught himself sighing a couple of
2637times but didn't even garner a glance from Maggie. She was in another zone. And
2638Yarden was busy proving himself a master of the control panel, his long fingers
2639never tiring, his mind sharp, his patience admirable. Never once did he grumble
2640or question or hesitate. He was the quintessential follower, eager to please,
2641jumping at the next request. And although Nick was technically Yarden's
2642superior the little man beamed at Maggie, looking to her first for each
2643instruction no matter whether Nick had given the last. Truthfully, Nick
2644couldn't blame him. There was an easy calm about Maggie, a presence that
2645entered every room with her. One that said, "I know this is tough but
2646we'll handle it together."<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
2647Nick remembered feeling that way four years ago when she stepped into the chaos
2648a serial killer had left behind in Platte City, Nebraska. As sheriff Nick was
2649supposed to have jurisdiction over the case. He was supposed to have control.
2650He could still conjure up that sense of being overwhelmed, the panic he tried
2651to keep at a low boil somewhere deep inside himself. Even then, Maggie's
2652presence had reassured him, settled the boil to simmer, made him believe
2653everything would be okay. So he understood Yarden being attentive to Maggie's
2654every word, her every command, her every move. Nick was too, but for a slightly
2655different reason. When was it that his true feelings for her had come to the
2656surface? When had it finally hit him? Really hit him? Before he canceled his
2657wedding to Jill? Or had that simply been the excuse that led him to the real
2658conclusion?<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
2659As he watched Maggie, now he wondered why it had taken him so long.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
2660"Stop it right here." Maggie interrupted Nick's thoughts, pointing to
2661a monitor in the upper corner that had caught her attention. "Can you zoom
2662in on his baseball cap?"<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
2663Yarden obeyed instantly.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
2664"What is that?" She pushed her chair back and stood for a better
2665view, tapping the screen with her index finger. "We've been focused on
2666finding a front shot but what's that on the side of his cap? It's a logo, isn't
2667it?"<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
2668Yarden moved forward, careful to keep from leaning too close.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
2669She'd been taking notes, pages of them in her miniature notebook. As Nick
2670swiveled and stood to take a closer look at the monitor, he glanced down at the
2671notebook before he glanced up. In a brief glimpse, all he caught was the word
2672PROFILE at the top of the page.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
2673"Oh, I know what that is. It's the Golden Gophers," Yarden said,
2674beaming like a school kid answering the tough question for his favorite
2675teacher.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
2676"College team," Nick explained to Maggie.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
2677"Right. University of Minnesota," she said without missing a beat.
2678Nick was impressed. Yarden even more enamored. "Looks like he's wearing a
2679letterman jacket, too," she added. "Jerry, doesn't that look like the
2680university's insignia? It's an <i class="calibre8">M</i>, isn't it?"<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
2681Yarden was already punching keys and zooming in on the guy's upper left chest
2682where Maggie had been pointing.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
2683"Minnesota fan," Nick said.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
2684"Or he's a student," Maggie countered.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
2685The phone on the wall rang.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
2686It startled all three of them. Yarden looked at it as though he'd never seen it
2687before. He glanced at Maggie, then Nick.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
2688"Must be the guys upstairs," he said, but still didn't move to answer
2689the phone like he didn't want to be reminded of what was upstairs.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
2690At first Nick thought Yarden was waiting for someone to instruct him once again
2691or to give him permission to answer it. However, one good look at Yarden's face
2692and Nick could tell the apprehension was dread, not uncertainty.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
2693The phone must have rung a dozen times before Yarden pushed himself out of the
2694chair and reached for it.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
2695"Security." A pause and then he added, "This is Jerry. Jerry
2696Yarden."<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
2697Nick tried not to watch, but it was impossible to look away. Yarden's entire
2698face crunched together like a man waiting for something or someone to hit him.
2699He nodded and swallowed hard a couple of times, his Adam's apple bobbing above
2700his collar.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
2701By the time he returned the phone's receiver to the wall Yarden had lost all
2702color in his face.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
2703"Security thinks they have another bomber," he said in almost a
2704whisper.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
2705"You're kidding?" Nick asked. "Where?"<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
2706"In the southwest parking lot." The Adam's apple bobbed again.
2707"They wanna see you and me upstairs."<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
2708Maggie's cell phone started ringing. A couple seconds later, Nick's started
2709ringing, too.<br class="calibre9"/><br class="calibre9"/></p>
2710
2711<p class="calibre10"><a name="ch31"></a><strong class="calibre7">CHAPTER</strong><b class="calibre7"><br class="calibre6"/><strong class="calibre7">31</strong></b></p>
2712
2713<p class="MsoNormal1">"He may have gotten left
2714behind," Charlie Wurth told Maggie as he helped her into a bulletproof
2715vest.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
2716It didn't make sense this many hours later.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
2717"Maybe he was hiding somewhere inside the mall," Wurth added as if he
2718could sense Maggie's question. "Waiting. You know, thinking he could leave
2719after everything settled down a bit."<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
2720Maggie could tell the new Deputy Director of Homeland Security had never worn a
2721Kevlar vest before just by looking at the way he had cinched up the straps of
2722his own vest. His fingers were shaking slightly, just enough that she noticed.
2723He was nervous. Of course, he was nervous. It shouldn't matter, but it managed
2724to ratchet up her anxiety. The adrenaline was already causing her heart to race.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
2725"What makes them think he's one of the bombers?"<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
2726"They said he was sneaking around the back."<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
2727She raised an eyebrow.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
2728"And a backpack," he quickly added. "A red backpack."<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
2729Maggie glanced at the three other men in the small exit way. They were gearing
2730up, too. In silence. No conversation. Only the snaps and clicks of their
2731equipment. SWAT team. Cool and calm. Or so they appeared. It was chilly here, a
2732draft coming from somewhere and yet she could smell their sweat.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
2733Maggie glanced beyond the exit way. A.D. Kunze was nowhere to be seen.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
2734"He sets that thing off out there," Wurth continued and now Maggie
2735could see beads of sweat on his upper lip, "we're in a heap of
2736trouble."<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
2737"I'm a profiler, not a negotiator. What exactly do you want me to
2738do?"<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
2739On the phone, Kunze had told Maggie it was "showtime." He followed up
2740with, "Security says they've got a live one. And you need to be able to
2741tell them whether they do or not."<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
2742It had sounded like a joke, a dare. But he was serious.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
2743She had had stranger requests but not from her assistant director. Cunningham
2744would have never sent her out like this.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
2745"What exactly is it you want me to do, Deputy Director?" she asked
2746again.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
2747"They've got him cornered. Now, maybe he's just some kid with a red
2748backpack. Scared out of his wits because of all the excitement. But if he's one
2749of the bombers…we can't take that chance. These guys—" Wurth's hand waved
2750at the SWAT team as if he were only now introducing them to Maggie. "They
2751can't take him out if there's a chance that pack's gonna blow. Cops can't
2752approach him either. Same reason."<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
2753That was it. End of explanation.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
2754Wurth pulled a ball cap on and started struggling into a blue jacket that had
2755SWAT on the back. He made it look like the Kevlar vest was a straitjacket. It took
2756a couple attempts of poking his arm behind him into the jacket before he found
2757the armhole.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
2758One of the team members handed a blue jacket to Maggie.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
2759"And me?" she had to ask Wurth.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
2760Evidently he thought he had explained everything he needed to explain. He
2761looked up at her as he struggled with the zipper, his fingers still giving him
2762a problem.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
2763"You can tell us if he fits the profile of the other bombers."<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
2764He said it as if it were a matter of fact. Maggie wanted to laugh. This was
2765crazy.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
2766"And if I can't?"<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
2767He stopped. So did the SWAT team. The look on Wurth's face told her immediately
2768that hadn't been considered.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
2769"I know you're probably a little nervous, Agent O'Dell," Wurth said,
2770quiet and slow, sounding like a child's father. Suddenly she was "Agent
2771O'Dell," when all during the flight she had been Maggie.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
2772"I'm not nervous." Her stomach told her differently but she had
2773learned long ago to set aside the nerves. That wasn't the problem. She knew how
2774to focus. She trusted her gut instinct. She could respond and perform under
2775stress. But this was ridiculous and she wanted to tell Wurth exactly that. Had
2776he ever examined crappy, black-and-white surveillance video? "This isn't
2777the way profiling works."<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
2778"Look, Agent O'Dell." This time he took her arm and bent toward her,
2779close enough she could smell the peppermint on his breath, almost as if he
2780thought what he was going to confide wouldn't be heard by the SWAT team despite
2781the crowded exit way. "This may be our only shot to prevent another
2782tragedy. A.D. Kunze is willing to take a risk on your talent. So am I. Now we
2783just need you to be willing to take that risk, too."<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
2784He was a smoother politician than she had given him credit for.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
2785"Let me borrow your tie," she told him as she pulled on the blue SWAT
2786jacket.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
2787Wurth looked surprised but didn't question her or hesitate and he tugged at his
2788necktie.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
2789"Anybody have gloves?" she asked and was immediately handed a pair.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
2790She pulled on the gloves, the fingertips too big but they were warm and she
2791wouldn't be handling anything that required perfect dexterity. Then she took
2792Wurth's bright red necktie and wound it around her left wrist, making a knot
2793and letting the ends dangle about six inches.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
2794"When I raise my left hand above my head," she told the SWAT team,
2795and demonstrated, "that means 'take him out.'" They all nodded. She
2796turned to Wurth, waited for his eyes. "Make sure whatever law enforcement
2797is out there now knows the signal."<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
2798She had no intention of raising her hand but she knew they would look for a
2799signal. More importantly, they'd wait for a signal. With several law
2800enforcement agencies taking part, it was better they wait for some signal
2801rather than misjudge and react to any sudden movements.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
2802One of the SWAT members was already relaying the message over the radio
2803strapped to his shoulder, but Maggie waited for Wurth's assurance, his
2804commitment, his accountability.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
2805"Absolutely."<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
2806She watched his fingers rezip his jacket and this time she noticed they weren't
2807shaking.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
2808"Okay," Maggie said. "Let's do this."<br class="calibre9"/><br class="calibre9"/></p>
2809
2810<p class="calibre10"><a name="ch32"></a><strong class="calibre7">CHAPTER</strong><b class="calibre7"><br class="calibre6"/><strong class="calibre7">32</strong></b></p>
2811
2812<p class="MsoNormal1">This time Nick led the way
2813while Yarden hung back, always a couple of steps behind. He showed his ID to
2814the guard at the bottom of the second escalator. National Guard, sniper unit.
2815By this time no one made it upstairs without scrutiny and security clearance.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
2816As Nick climbed the stairs—all the escalators had been stopped—he felt his
2817breathing change. He wasn't sure he was prepared to see what was at the top of
2818the third floor. His father used to tell him there wasn't anything worse than
2819seeing a body ripped apart in a car accident, flesh peeled back, burned or
2820mangled. As county sheriff, Nick had a couple of opportunities to judge for
2821himself. But Nick had seen worse—the small blue bodies of two little boys,
2822carved and left by a serial killer in the prairie grass along the Platte River.
2823Could anything top that? He hoped not.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
2824He knew how this worked only because two weeks ago as part of his training for
2825the new job position he had attended a seminar on terrorist attacks and what to
2826look for at any one of the facilities where they provided security. It had been
2827intended to be a guide on how to convince their clients to upgrade their
2828systems. Two weeks ago Nick thought the seminar preached scare tactics. The
2829"what if" scenarios seemed a bit over the top. Now he realized how
2830wrong he had been.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
2831Thanks to that seminar the information was all still fresh to him. So he knew
2832the protocol. In his mind, he tried to prepare himself for what he was about to
2833experience. Rescue mission always came first: treat the injured, put out fires,
2834make the building safe. Those who were wounded and injured were now on the
2835first floor, across the street at the hotel triage area or on their way to a
2836hospital.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
2837Next came the recovery while preserving evidence. At this point, those who were
2838left wouldn't be going anywhere in a hurry. For several hours they would become
2839a part of the crime scene, helping answer questions that they should never have
2840been expected to be asked. Maggie had once told him that even after death, victims
2841were an investigator's best hope for telling them who the killer was.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
2842Almost at the top of the escalator and Nick felt like he was holding his
2843breath. His heart pounded against his rib cage. The entire air smelled scorched
2844up here. Someone had finally turned off the Christmas music. The eerie silence
2845that replaced it was almost worse.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
2846The scene before Nick struck him as surreal. A black crater had been cordoned
2847off. A half dozen crime techs in Tyvek suits silently walked a grid, measuring,
2848mapping, scooping, sifting and photographing all of it, grid by grid. He knew
2849they would eventually do this with each site.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
2850"Dig out the crater," was what they called it. All of the debris
2851within an area fifty percent bigger than the crater itself would need to be
2852examined. The techs were using sterilized equipment to sweep up and sieve.
2853Seemed odd to Nick at first that they'd need sterilized stuff to handle what
2854had already been burned, but what you brought to a crime scene could be just as
2855detrimental as what you took away.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
2856Later those same techs would be on hands and knees doing a fingertip search of
2857the same areas. They'd make sure even the tiniest fragments of evidence didn't
2858go unnoticed. But it wasn't just about collecting debris. They were measuring
2859and examining dents and dished metals, looking for embedded scraps, swabbing
2860for undestroyed explosives, testing for solid residue.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
2861The task appeared insurmountable. And they would have to repeat it two more
2862times at two more blast sites.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
2863"Mr. Morrelli?"<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
2864Nick almost forgot why he was here. For a minute he felt invisible, looking in
2865from the outside, tiptoeing on the edges of his dream or someone's nightmare.
2866He turned so suddenly he bumped Yarden, almost knocking him over.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
2867"Sorry."<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
2868"No problem." Jerry Yarden looked like he might be sick at any
2869minute, his face ashen, eyes wide.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
2870"Nick Morrelli."<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
2871The man approached, watching his step as he made his way over. He wasn't part
2872of the collection team and wore a navy blue suit instead of the Tyvek overalls.
2873Still, he had on paper shoe covers—what looked like a size fifteen. Goggles
2874dangled from his neck alongside paper face mask. Purple latex gloves stuck out
2875of his jacket pocket.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
2876"You don't recognize me." The man seemed disappointed.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
2877Nick took a better look. He didn't expect to find anyone he knew up here.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
2878"David. David Ceimo. What the hell are you doing here?"<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
2879"Good to see you again, Nick." He put out a hand.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
2880"Almost didn't recognize you without your helmet in my gut."<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
2881That garnered a wide-mouth grin. Had he smiled first off, Nick would have
2882immediately known the man even without a Mizzou gold and black mouth guard. The
2883safety had sacked Nick twice in one game, a string of quarterback blitzes
2884contributing to the Huskers' embarrassing and rare loss at home to the
2885Univerisity of Missouri. Not a fond memory even now as Ceimo's hand devoured
2886Nick's.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
2887The two men had gone on to make the NCAA All-American team, but if Nick
2888remembered correctly, Ceimo had made it all the way to the big house. Minnesota
2889Vikings, first-round draft. Unfortunately he also remembered the tall, lean
2890Ceimo had been injured his second year, final game of conference play, a huge
2891hit that left him on the turf. To look at him now it hadn't affected him a bit,
2892and though he had trimmed down a bit he still looked like he could tackle
2893anyone who got in his way.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
2894"I'm here for Governor Williams," Ceimo told him. "Chief of
2895staff."<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
2896"Congratulations." Nick kept the, "you've got to be
2897kidding," to himself. Why should he be surprised? Ceimo was probably wondering
2898the same thing about him. A one-season quarterback now representing the largest
2899security company in the country? "Have you met Jerry Yarden?"<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
2900"No, I don't think so," Ceimo said, extending his hand to Yarden.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
2901"David and I played football against each other."<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
2902"That right?" Yarden stood between the men, craning his neck, looking
2903from one to the other. "Seems you know a lot of people here."<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
2904Nick ignored the comment and told Ceimo, "Jerry's the head of security
2905here."<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
2906"Actually assistant to the director."<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
2907Both Nick and Ceimo cocked their heads at almost the same insinuating angle.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
2908"The director's still in New Jersey. There for Thanksgiving," Yarden
2909rattled off in defense.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
2910"Yeah, state fire inspector is stuck in Chicago," Ceimo told Nick and
2911Yarden, crossing his arms and obviously finished with the small talk. Nick
2912didn't mind. "There for the holiday, too. O'Hare's backed up. This snow's
2913canceling flights left and right."<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
2914"Governor stuck somewhere, too?" Nick asked. It was an innocent
2915question but Ceimo's glare didn't take it as innocent.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
2916"We've got a problem," he said instead of accounting for the
2917governor's absence. "The governor wanted me to keep you guys informed, as
2918a favor to your boss. Wanted you to have a heads-up. Be one of the first to know
2919in case there's something more we should be looking for."<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
2920Yarden was nodding, bobble-head style.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
2921"It's looking like these guys didn't do this on their own."<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
2922Nick was just about to tell Ceimo they already knew about the potential fourth
2923bomber in the parking lot.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
2924"They may not have even known they'd volunteered to be shrapnel."<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
2925"What do you mean?" Yarden asked.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
2926"You've located the detonators," Nick said. That would be the first
2927step.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
2928"Need the fire inspector to verify, but my bomb expert seems convinced."<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
2929Nick couldn't help noticing Ceimo said, "my" bomb expert and wondered
2930why the hell he was telling them any of this? They were simply security. On the
2931totem pole of jurisdiction they came pretty close to the bottom of the stack.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
2932"What exactly is your bomb expert convinced about?" Nick asked, only
2933because it looked like Ceimo was waiting to be asked. He seemed to be enjoying
2934doling out the information slowly.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
2935"Understand only a handful of us know about this, okay?"<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
2936"We got that loud and clear." Nick was tired. They all were. Patience
2937wearing thin.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
2938"Bombs were detonated from off-site."<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
2939"Off-site?" Yarden didn't understand.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
2940Nick thought he might have heard wrong.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
2941"The bombers didn't detonate their own packs?"<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
2942Ceimo nodded. "Someone else did it from outside the immediate
2943perimeter."<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
2944"Somebody else? How could they do that?" Yarden still seemed
2945confused.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
2946But Nick wasn't. He knew exactly what Ceimo was suggesting. They'd spent hours
2947viewing miles of tape and the whole time, all three of them—Maggie, Nick and
2948Yarden—kept saying the same thing, "These kids don't look like homicide
2949bombers."<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
2950There was a good reason they didn't look the part. They weren't bombers. Poor
2951bastards, probably didn't even know what was in store for them.<br class="calibre9"/><br class="calibre9"/></p>
2952
2953<p class="calibre10"><a name="ch33"></a><strong class="calibre7">CHAPTER</strong><b class="calibre7"><br class="calibre6"/><strong class="calibre7">33</strong></b></p>
2954
2955<p class="MsoNormal1">The wind stung Maggie's face
2956with tiny ice pellets. It was bitter cold and yet she could feel sweat trickle
2957down the middle of her back. Wurth and one of the SWAT members led her along a
2958breaker wall that separated the parking lot from the hum of interstate traffic.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
2959Deputy Director Wurth walked hunched over, probably from the cold. He had joked
2960earlier that, at least, he didn't have to worry about freezing his ass off in
2961New Orleans, but Maggie couldn't help thinking his trained, hunched-over stride
2962may have been a precaution against getting his ass shot off. Maybe she had been
2963wrong about him being a novice to a Kevlar vest.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
2964An area in the back corner of the parking lot had been cordoned off. Despite
2965what had happened, people still had to be pushed back. Looked like mainly
2966media—cameras and microphones, trails of breath from reporters doing live
2967feeds.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
2968Maggie could see slivers of the scene over the hoods and roofs of cars and
2969SUVs. They had the suspect pinned down between the lanes of parked vehicles
2970though she couldn't see him. Back here, yellowed light streaked with glittering
2971snow pellets was all they had to break up the darkness.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
2972It looked like two different groups of law enforcement. A guess from the
2973different colors of jackets and hats. Most likely county and state. Rifles
2974leveled on bumpers or hoods. Every officer would have his or her service piece
2975drawn. She wasn't sure who had jurisdiction. It didn't matter to her as long as
2976they played by her rules.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
2977She glanced back at Wurth. He wasn't even armed. How could she trust him to
2978keep these guys from firing? They didn't even know him. Most of them were
2979locals and it would be tough to keep the emotion out of this. On the day after
2980Thanksgiving, every single one of them probably knew someone in that mall today:
2981a mother or wife, sister, brother, best friend, neighbor. They thought they had
2982a live one. Adrenaline would be pumping. And the cold would only add to the
2983rush.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
2984"Ready when you are." A voice startled her, crackling over static and
2985coming from her shoulder. She'd forgotten about the two-way radio the SWAT team
2986had strapped to her upper arm. At first it had felt too tight; now she couldn't
2987feel anything.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
2988"No one fires unless they see red," she shouted into her shoulder,
2989the stream of breath tracking to the radio like visible sound waves.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
2990"Roger that."<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
2991"Any weapons?" she asked, this time keeping her voice lower.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
2992"Haven't seen any. Only the backpack."<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
2993"I'm gonna let him see me, hands out to my sides."<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
2994"Roger."<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
2995Maggie stood up straight as she came around a set of officers crouched behind
2996an SUV. They acknowledged her presence with only a nod. One of them pointed,
2997indicating the young man was just on the other side.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
2998She saw a piece of camouflage move and realized it was the suspect, right
2999there. He was only five feet away. He glanced at her, did a double take and
3000scooted back but was trapped between two vehicles. He had the backpack clutched
3001to his chest like he knew it was the only thing keeping them from firing.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
3002"It's okay," she yelled to him, holding her hands out from her side
3003to show him she wasn't armed.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
3004His eyes darted around. He was tall and rail-thin. She could see him shivering.
3005God, he was young. And scared.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
3006"I just want to talk to you," she told him. It was hard to keep her
3007voice soothing with the cold air sucking her breath away. His eyes met hers and
3008she recognized something in them.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
3009"Hold your fire," she shouted. "He's not one of them," she
3010yelled to the officers just as the boy pounced at her.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
3011He shoved her back and bolted past her. She hit hard into a car grill.
3012"Don't shoot," she managed to scream, scrambling to regain her
3013balance.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
3014She took off after him, expecting to hear gunfire at her back.<br class="calibre9"/><br class="calibre9"/></p>
3015
3016<p class="calibre10"><a name="ch34"></a><strong class="calibre7">CHAPTER</strong><b class="calibre7"><br class="calibre6"/><strong class="calibre7">34</strong></b></p>
3017
3018<p class="MsoNormal1">Patrick didn't think the man in
3019uniform was a cop. There had been plenty of cops in the mall. From what he
3020remembered, all of them had their guns drawn and their badges displayed
3021prominently, strapped to a thigh, tacked to a vest. One even had his fastened
3022to the side of his knit stocking cap. This guy didn't have a badge. Just a
3023uniform and an embroidered name tag that read FRANK. Patrick guessed security.
3024Was he with the fake paramedic guy? How hard was it to get a uniform? He
3025wondered if his name was really even Frank.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
3026One thing for certain, the guy was big, burly, solid. One side of his jaw
3027looked crooked. He looked like the type of guy you could hit and he'd never
3028even feel it. He reminded Patrick of a bully who picked on him in junior high.
3029He'd gotten plenty of blackened eyes and bloodied lips. This guy towered over
3030Patrick, too. But maybe he wasn't so fast. And if he didn't have a gun…<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
3031"Just think it's odd," Frank said. He had an accent, but not a
3032Minnesota accent. More like Brooklyn which only increased Patrick's paranoia.
3033"Why you coming out the side door like you're sneaking off?"<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
3034"It was the first door I came to."<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
3035"You get hurt?" He pointed to the blood on Patrick's sleeve. He
3036hadn't realized it was there.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
3037He glanced up at Frank, gauging what direction to go with this guy.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
3038"Yeah, but they patched me up."<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
3039"You look a little bit woozy, yet. Might not wanna be slipping out the
3040back until you have all your wits about you."<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
3041Okay, maybe Frank was a good guy. That was the downside of not trusting people.
3042Sometimes good guys slipped through the cracks and you didn't recognize them.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
3043"Actually, I was looking for my girlfriend," Patrick confessed.
3044"She got hurt, too. I'm hoping she didn't go wandering out into the cold.
3045Did you see anybody else come out this door?"<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
3046Frank stared at him hard. Had Patrick been wrong about him? He glanced around
3047the parking lot and shook his head.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
3048"Some commotion going on around front. Nobody back here." Then he
3049grinned at Patrick, coffee-stained teeth, a gap between the front two.
3050"Just you." Despite the grin he was still examining Patrick. "They
3051found another bomber." His eyes stayed firmly planted on Patrick, watching
3052for his reaction.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
3053"Another—?" Patrick asked.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
3054"Out in the parking lot," he continued, warming his gloved hands
3055together in front of him, as if to show Patrick how huge his hands were.
3056"Asked us to keep a lookout for any others."<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
3057"Oh man, I can't believe there're more." Patrick grabbed at his arm
3058as if it suddenly hurt. "Haven't they done enough damage?" Then he
3059rubbed at his eyes as if they were starting to blur. "You know, you're
3060right. I probably should go back in. I don't feel so good."<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
3061"What about your girlfriend?" Frank wasn't convinced.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
3062Patrick shrugged and continued to hold his arm right over the stain of
3063Rebecca's blood. "Maybe she didn't come this way. You said you didn't see
3064anybody else. She's probably still inside looking for me."<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
3065He turned to go back into the hotel.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
3066"Hey, kid," Frank said and Patrick winced.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
3067He stopped. The door was so close, about five steps away. Maybe he should just
3068make a run for it. But what if the door was locked from the outside?<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
3069When he glanced back, Frank had a long nightstick in his huge gloved hand,
3070slapping it against his other hand. Where the hell did that come from?<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
3071"Don't go sneaking out any back doors anymore, okay?" Frank told him.
3072"Everyone's a little on edge right now. You know what I mean?"<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
3073He flipped a switch. The nightstick was actually a long-handled flashlight. And
3074then Frank turned, shined a tunnel of light in front of him and left into the
3075dark.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
3076Patrick took a couple of gulps of cold air. Paranoid. He was too damned
3077paranoid. He went back into the hotel. Rebecca had to be inside somewhere.<br class="calibre9"/><br class="calibre9"/></p>
3078
3079<p class="calibre10"><a name="ch35"></a><strong class="calibre7">CHAPTER</strong><b class="calibre7"><br class="calibre6"/><strong class="calibre7">35</strong></b></p>
3080
3081<p class="MsoNormal1">Maggie ignored the ache in her
3082back. Something pinched where she had slammed against the front of the car. At
3083first she had tried to unzip her jacket to get at her Smith &amp; Wesson. It
3084slowed her down too much. The kid wasn't armed. She'd do without it. Besides,
3085she was the only one who could catch him now. They'd all listened to her. Stood
3086down.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
3087Behind her she could hear footsteps crunching but they were too far back. Her
3088radio crackled from her shoulder, "Subject headed south, southeast."<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
3089The kid had slipped a couple of times, little traction in his sneakers. Each
3090time she closed the distance between them, two paces, three. Only a car length
3091between them now, but he was wiry, flexible, spinning around bumpers and
3092twisting to avoid rearview mirrors. He was scared. Didn't matter that he wasn't
3093one of the bombers. He didn't understand what had caused all the attention. Maggie
3094wondered if he even understood much English.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
3095As soon as she had gotten a good look at him she knew immediately he wasn't a
3096part of the group of young men she had spent the afternoon watching. He was too
3097young. And he was black. Tall, skinny—almost anorexic thin. But it was that
3098look in his eyes that gave him away, that terrified panic of someone who's been
3099accused and hunted before. She'd seen that look. It wasn't fear from guilt. It
3100was fear of persecution. She was guessing about his lack of English.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
3101There were drifts between the cars and one of them had swallowed Maggie's boot,
3102sucking it right off her foot. Cheap slip-ons. She didn't let it slow her down.
3103Her daily exercise regimen included a three, sometimes four-mile run.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
3104From the radio, more static then, "Don't let him leave the lot."<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
3105She heard the clicks of metal behind her. Closer.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
3106Damn it! Was that the sound of rifles getting set? Is that what she was
3107hearing? Someone bracing a weapon against the metal of a vehicle? Taking aim?<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
3108"Hold your fire," she yelled into her shoulder, only it came out in
3109gasps, hardly coherent.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
3110"Suspect fleeing. Considered dangerous."<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
3111"Hold all fire," she tried again. He's scared, not dangerous. Could
3112they shoot him with her trailing this close?<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
3113She heard more movement coming fast behind her. Heavy boots crunching snow, the
3114slap of leather, the clack of metal, shouts garbled by the wind.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
3115The boy slipped again, wiping out and thumping his knee against a bumper.
3116Another two paces lost. Then he glanced over his shoulder. Big mistake. Slowed
3117you down every time. He thought he'd regain momentum by taking a sharp left,
3118and running parallel back in her direction, only with a lane of cars between
3119them. Maggie spun around.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
3120He was right there. Right alongside her. She could see slices of him between
3121the parked vehicles. The cars were all that separated them. She pushed herself.
3122A little faster. Her lungs were already burning from the cold air she'd sucked
3123in. But the wind was at their backs now. Just a little more. She needed to get
3124a step or two in front of him. She'd still lose him if she had to twist between
3125the vehicles. She decided on a shortcut.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
3126Maggie glanced ahead at the long uninterrupted row of vehicles. She chose
3127wisely. Then she jumped on the hood of a compact and let the slide of
3128snow-caked rubber soles on metal propel her right on top of the boy. It knocked
3129him completely off his feet. His elbow jabbed into Maggie's side, catching her
3130right under her vest. It knocked the air out of her. She squeezed her eyes shut
3131against the pain, but still held on.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
3132He was shoving and kicking until she grabbed his arm. One twist and his body
3133went rigid. She pulled his arm back behind him and almost automatically he went
3134down, face down. Her knee was in his back, his legs sprawled.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
3135"You may not feel like it now," she told the boy in machine-gun
3136bursts of breath. Each intake of cold air stabbed her lungs. "But you'll
3137thank me for this later."<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
3138Better a knee in the back than a bullet.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
3139When she finally looked up she was surrounded by men in helmets and scoped
3140rifles. One of them held the red backpack that had gotten discarded somewhere
3141along the chase. Another held the boot she had lost.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
3142Charlie Wurth squeezed through the group, a head shorter than the rest of them,
3143looking small and out of place. But he had a huge smile on his face as he
3144offered a gloved hand to help Maggie up.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
3145"Son of a bitch, O'Dell. You are something else."<br class="calibre9"/><br class="calibre9"/></p>
3146
3147<p class="calibre10"><a name="ch36"></a><strong class="calibre7">CHAPTER</strong><b class="calibre7"><br class="calibre6"/><strong class="calibre7">36</strong></b></p>
3148
3149<p class="MsoNormal1">"It's bigger than we
3150thought," David Ceimo was telling Nick and Jerry Yarden. "Not just
3151three kids getting together and thinking it'd be cool to blow up a shopping
3152mall."<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
3153Nick pulled the paper shoe covers on but kept his face mask dangling at his
3154neck. Jerry had geared up completely, reminding Nick of an orange bug. The
3155elastic band that held up the mask made his ears stick out further. And he'd
3156mussed his hair, leaving tuffs sticking straight up. Nick resisted the urge to
3157nudge him, and do a swipe at his own hair like he'd do with his nephew, Timmy,
3158to tell him his hair was all tousled. Instead Nick pulled on a pair of purple
3159latex gloves and followed behind Ceimo and Yarden, staring at Jerry's tufts of
3160orange hair rather than looking down at the trails of blood. Bodies were
3161covered where they lay but he swore he saw what looked like a leg—gnarled
3162fabric and flesh with a loafer—underneath what may have once been a food court
3163table, now twisted metal.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
3164Ceimo was leading them to the first and closest crater. No one paid any
3165attention to them. They continued their slow, painstaking tasks. The buzz and
3166hum and swish of equipment took the place of conversation. Walking amongst the
3167techs in their Tyvek overalls, masks and goggles reminded Nick of walking
3168through a scene of <i class="calibre8">Star Wars,</i> a different planet covered in soot and ash
3169with a distinctive smell of burnt dinner. That's how he tried to think about
3170it. Especially the burnt dinner part. Anything to keep his mind from focusing
3171on it really being burnt flesh and singed hair.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
3172A tech noticed their approach. She shoved her goggles up on top of her short
3173blond hair then picked up the tray of debris she was sifting through.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
3174"Jamie's lead on the crater dig. She's our bomb expert," Ceimo told
3175them.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
3176Nick thought she looked like a college kid. On closer inspection he could see
3177small crinkle lines at the corners of her eyes that revealed she was older.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
3178"Go ahead and tell them what you told me," Ceimo told Jamie.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
3179She pointed with a gloved finger to a pile of debris in the center of her tray.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
3180"When you think of an explosion most people automatically think everything
3181is incinerated. But fire is only one portion of an explosion. The other, of
3182course, is blowing things apart. We end up with fragments. Some actually are
3183decipherable." She poked around the debris and now Nick could see what
3184looked like fibers, obviously scorched but some of the ends were still red.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
3185"The backpack," Yarden said.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
3186"Yes, and this metal piece was part of the detonating mechanism."<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
3187"Doesn't look like much of anything," Nick couldn't help saying.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
3188"There're several other smaller fragments here." She gently pushed
3189them out of the ash. "I'll piece them together back at the lab, but I
3190recognize it already. You guys remember the Pan Am flight that went down over
3191Lockerbie, Scotland?"<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
3192Everyone nodded. It was a long time ago. Nick figured twenty years at least,
3193but anyone in law enforcement recognized the case. A huge passenger jet blowing
3194up in the air.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
3195"That was a mess," Jamie said like she'd been there. The crinkles
3196weren't that deep. "The debris was scattered over miles and yet
3197investigators were able to determine the exact cause. They found a tiny piece
3198of circuit board from an electronic digital timer. It'd been placed inside a
3199radio-cassette player along with Semtex then placed inside a brown Samsonite
3200suitcase." She paused, noting Yarden's dropped jaw. "Yeah, amazing,
3201huh?"<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
3202"Are you saying this piece of metal might be some sort of circuit
3203board?" Nick asked.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
3204"No, it's not. It's a bit different. But what I am saying is that we can
3205determine a lot from fragments. Sometimes they're very definable. The devices
3206used to detonate a bomb are sort of like a black box in an airplane. It can
3207tell us a great deal of things. That circuit board found in the Lockerbie
3208bombing was identified as a particular digital timer manufactured by a company
3209in Zurich. Only twenty of the devices had been made. Special ordered and custom
3210made for the Libyan government."<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
3211"Wow!"<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
3212Nick glanced at Jerry Yarden. Maggie might have some competition. Looked like
3213Yarden had transferred his awestruck attention and affection to Jamie. Nick
3214thought he saw the beginning of a smile at the corner of her mouth but
3215otherwise she seemed unfazed. Instead, she continued.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
3216"This detonating device is something I've only seen once before."<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
3217"So you might be able to track it to its manufacturer?"<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
3218She hesitated at Nick's question. "There's a good possibility."<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
3219"Wait a minute," Ceimo said for the first time. "You didn't tell
3220me that before."<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
3221"I'm just saying it's a possibility. Remember I still have to piece the
3222fragments together. But from what I'm seeing so far, this device looks like it
3223may be specialized enough that we might be able to track its manufacturer. It's
3224certainly different. Not digital. Not a preset. For lack of a better
3225definition, it's wireless. It allows the bomb to be detonated with a remote
3226control."<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
3227"Could they have each had a remote control on them at the same time?"<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
3228Jamie shook her head. "I'm not finding anything to indicate that, but
3229truthfully," she said, shrugging, "the only reason for a remote
3230control device like this is if you don't want to be anywhere near the bomb when
3231you detonate it."<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
3232"Why not just use a digital one?" Nick insisted. "Set all of
3233them for the same time? You wouldn't have to be nearby then, either, would
3234you?"<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
3235"That's true. But things can go wrong with the digitals. If you get
3236delayed you can't reset them, at least, not so easily or quickly."<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
3237"And if he used a remote control, why not just leave the backpacks where
3238he wanted them to go off?"<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
3239"We would have noticed them," Yarden said. "We watch for
3240anything left behind."<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
3241"Exactly," Jamie agreed. "Too much of a risk that they'd be
3242found before they exploded."<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
3243There was a silence. No one wanted to admit what it all meant that the bombers
3244may have been victims, too.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
3245"There's something else," Jamie finally said. With an index finger
3246she pulled out another piece of metal. "Not conclusive," she warned,
3247"but the backpacks may have had some kind of padlock on them."<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
3248Nick rubbed at his jaw. He remembered how much those guys reminded him of his
3249nephew, Timmy. Older versions but ordinary, clean-cut guys. Enjoyed football.
3250Maybe played. The one had on a letterman jacket. He remembered their confident
3251strides on the video. No nervous jitters. No swiveling heads or darting eyes.
3252Just walking up and down the mall.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
3253What the hell did they think they had locked away in those backpacks? And who
3254convinced them to carry them around a crowded mall?<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
3255"You said you've seen this type of detonator before," Nick reminded
3256the bomb expert.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
3257Jamie hesitated, looked to Ceimo.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
3258"It's okay," he told her. "The governor wants Al Banoff 's guys
3259up to speed on this."<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
3260"I've seen it only in the plans for another bomb. We caught the guy before
3261he completed it. He had the entire blueprint drawn and claimed it was simply a
3262class project. But he'd already begun constructing it. The detonating device
3263was very similar to this one, an advanced wireless system that could be
3264triggered via a remote control. It stood out because it was pretty different
3265from what we're used to seeing. So was the bomb he was planning. That's why he
3266needed to be able to detonate it from as far away as possible."<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
3267"What was so different about it?"<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
3268"It was supposed to be a dirty bomb."<br class="calibre9"/><br class="calibre9"/></p>
3269
3270<p class="calibre10"><a name="ch37"></a><strong class="calibre7">CHAPTER</strong><b class="calibre7"><br class="calibre6"/><strong class="calibre7">37</strong></b></p>
3271
3272<p class="MsoNormal1">Asante had cleared airport
3273security with no problems. He presented a boarding pass and driver's license
3274and received only a cursory glance with a wave of a busy hand. Even his duffel
3275bag made it through with a brief pause on the conveyer. No one spoke to him. No
3276one gave him a second look. It was perfect.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
3277Except that here he still sat at his gate. His flight was delayed. No new
3278departure time even hinted at.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
3279He avoided drawing attention to himself but stayed close enough to listen. He'd
3280heard the desk clerk tell another passenger that their plane was on the ground
3281in Chicago and the snowstorm kept it there. As soon as it was cleared for
3282takeoff and on its way, she would alert everyone. Until then, they could only
3283wait.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
3284"No," she told several impatient passengers. "There were no
3285other flights tonight to Las Vegas."<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
3286On his handheld computer, Asante had done his own search of other flights on
3287other airlines. Unfortunately the clerk was correct. There were no other
3288flights from Minneapolis to Las Vegas until morning and all of those were
3289booked or overbooked.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
3290"It is after all, Thanksgiving weekend," he overheard the clerk
3291defend herself when one of the passengers complained.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
3292Asante kept calm. Just another glitch.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
3293He had already checked rental cars, too. None available. Even those due back
3294were delayed because of the storm. What Asante had earlier called a godsend was
3295quickly turning into a…a glitch, he reminded himself. Only a glitch.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
3296Sitting so close to the information desk, he'd shut off his phone's ringer and
3297ignored all calls. Now he checked messages. They knew better than to leave text
3298messages. Too easy to trace. There was, however, one voice message. He pushed
3299the button to listen.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
3300"Hi, it's me," the woman's voice said in a cheerful, familiar tone, a
3301wife leaving a quick message for a husband. "Just wanted to let you know
3302Becky hasn't been picked up yet. She's out of cash. On our way to get her
3303now."<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
3304Asante smiled. He should have been upset that Rebecca Cory was still wandering
3305around. "She's out of cash," meant that the girl must have tried an
3306ATM machine. Their system would be able to tell them exactly where the ATM
3307machine was located. They'd know exactly where to "get her."<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
3308He checked his wristwatch. If the plane was still in Chicago there was no way
3309it would get here within an hour. He had ignored his hunger for too long, and
3310he believed taking care of the basics kept the mind sharp. Food was one of
3311those basics. He set the alarm on his watch for thirty minutes. On his handheld
3312computer, that he continued to keep strapped to his other wrist, he set the
3313alarm for any weather alerts concerning Chicago and Minneapolis. Then he swung
3314his duffel up over his shoulder and headed off to find something to eat.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
3315Despite the delay he was safe here. If the authorities began searching for
3316another person—another John Doe #2—they'd never identify him now. Even if they
3317captured his image on any of the mall's cameras and started canvassing the
3318airport to prevent his escape, they'd never find him. Most airports didn't have
3319cameras in their ticketing or receiving areas. Those were virtually
3320securityless or what Asante liked to call, "security-lite." And the
3321John Doe #2 who had facilitated the mall bombing was no longer anywhere to be
3322found. He had been left down in one of those camera-less areas, stuffed away in
3323the restroom trash and flushed down the toilet.<br class="calibre9"/><br class="calibre9"/></p>
3324
3325<p class="calibre10"><a name="ch38"></a><strong class="calibre7">CHAPTER</strong><b class="calibre7"><br class="calibre6"/><strong class="calibre7">38</strong></b></p>
3326
3327<p class="MsoNormal1">Maggie shouldn't have been
3328surprised that A.D. Kunze didn't share Deputy Director Wurth's excitement for
3329the way she had handled the parking lot suspect. Turned out the kid was a
3330sixteen-year-old Sudanese refugee, separated from his newly adoptive mother
3331during the bombing. He spoke pretty good English except the panic had
3332dismantled the pretty good. Raw fear and instinct had brought back too many fresh
3333memories of government police in his country. He did the only thing he knew—he
3334ran. Fortunately he hadn't been hurt.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
3335Maggie, on the other hand, knew she might have a bruised rib or two. Not a good
3336idea to go flinging yourself over car hoods or getting shoved into chrome
3337grills of SUVs.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
3338She was still holding her aching side, allowing Wurth and a paramedic to help
3339her take off her vest. Wurth insisted she get checked out and had taken her to
3340the hotel across the street where a triage area had been set up in one of the
3341ballrooms. To avoid the media, he convinced a paramedic to use a small room off
3342the ballroom. They were able to keep the media out. No such luck in keeping
3343Kunze out. He came marching in and immediately began lecturing her.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
3344"What the fuck did you think you were doing out there, O'Dell? You were
3345just supposed to let them know whether or not the kid was one of the
3346bombers." He stood over her, hands on his hips, veins bulging in his thick
3347neck. "We didn't need you running off and playing hero. You could have
3348gotten a bunch of bystanders killed. Not to mention law enforcement officers.
3349We have enough trigger-happy assholes out there without you giving them a good
3350excuse to let loose."<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
3351"That's enough." Wurth surprised Maggie as much as he did Kunze.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
3352"What'd you just say to me?"<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
3353"Shut the fuck up." Wurth was about five inches shorter and fifty
3354pounds lighter than Kunze but he didn't back down. He stared up at the FBI
3355director and didn't flinch. "Your agent did a courageous thing out
3356there."<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
3357"Courageous? You think that little game of catch-me-if-you-can was
3358courageous?"<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
3359"She prevented an innocent kid from getting killed. And yeah, on a day
3360when we're all looking to shoot up somebody for what happened here, I'd say
3361what she did was pretty courageous."<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
3362"Well, it's too bad you're not her supervisor. Maybe she wouldn't get
3363reprimanded."<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
3364"Reprimanded?" That stopped Wurth.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
3365As for Maggie, again, she shouldn't have been surprised. She said nothing. Just
3366closed her eyes briefly from the sharp pain in her side and finished pulling
3367off the protective gear. Kunze had managed to scare off the paramedic, too.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
3368"Forty-five minutes," Kunze said. "That's how much time you two
3369get to clean up before you go live in front of the media and explain what just
3370happened. I'll see you then."<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
3371They watched him leave. He disappeared out the door.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
3372Wurth turned to look at her. "What the hell did you ever do to that
3373guy?"<br class="calibre9"/><br class="calibre9"/></p>
3374
3375<p class="calibre10"><a name="ch39"></a><strong class="calibre7">CHAPTER</strong><b class="calibre7"><br class="calibre6"/><strong class="calibre7">39</strong></b></p>
3376
3377<p class="MsoNormal1">Rebecca started to panic again.
3378The ATM at the gas station/minimart next to the hotel had spit out both her
3379debit card and her credit card. She wasn't sure she had enough money for a cab
3380ride to the hospital. Mall of America was clear out here in the suburbs and she
3381knew the hospital was downtown.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
3382She stood inside the station's shop looking out at the swirling snow. God, it
3383was cold and dark. After the explosion, she'd ripped out the lining of her coat
3384to stop the bleeding in her arm. Each time the shop door opened it made her
3385shiver to think about going out walking in that cold again.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
3386She bought a Snickers bar just so they wouldn't kick her out of the shop,
3387although there was a steady stream of people coming and going. She stared out
3388the window, headlights flickering on and off as cars pulled up to the gas pumps
3389or parked at the shop. She could see her reflection in the glass, only glimpses
3390but enough to feel like she didn't recognize herself. Her arm throbbed. She
3391contemplated buying the travel pack of Tylenol for four-ninety-eight, but that
3392would leave her with even less money, less security.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
3393She took small bites of the candy bar, trying to remember when she had eaten
3394last. All she'd had was the coffee earlier at the food court. Leftover turkey
3395and dressing last night at Dixon's grandparents' house. A heavenly feast. God!
3396That felt like days ago. A lifetime ago.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
3397"Becky?"<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
3398Rebecca turned to find a woman smiling at her. None of her family or friends
3399called her Becky. Either Rebecca or Becca. But the woman looked like she knew
3400her.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
3401"I thought that was you," the woman said.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
3402She had paid for her gas and was obviously headed back out the door. Now she
3403moved aside to let someone else out and let go of the door. She was Rebecca's
3404age, maybe a little older, dressed in worn-out jeans and an expensive leather
3405jacket. In one hand, car keys dangled from her fingers, in the other she held a
3406couple bags of chips and her spare change.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
3407"I'm sorry, do I know you?"<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
3408"No, not really," the woman admitted and shrugged as if she was sort
3409of embarrassed. "I'm Chad's girlfriend. He pointed you out at the mall. I'm
3410on my way to pick him up. Can I give you lift somewhere?"<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
3411Rebecca blinked and tried not to gasp. Chad was dead. She'd seen him explode.
3412Did his girlfriend really not know?<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
3413"No, thanks," she managed. "I'm actually waiting for
3414someone."<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
3415"Really?" The woman didn't look convinced. "Looks like you got
3416hurt." She pointed at the bloodied sleeve of Rebecca's coat. "Crazy
3417what's happened, huh. Chad got bruised up, too. You sure I can't give you a
3418lift?"<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
3419"No really. I don't want to miss my friend."<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
3420People were walking in around the woman. She was starting to be in the way of
3421the foot traffic.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
3422"Okay then. See ya."<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
3423Rebecca watched the woman walk back to her vehicle. She looked over her
3424shoulder and waved. Rebecca slid over so she could still see out the window but
3425now over a display of ice scrapers. The woman's van was back at one of the
3426corner pumps, the windshield draped in shadows so Rebecca couldn't tell if
3427there was anyone else in the van.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
3428Was it possible that Chad had survived? Could Rebecca be mistaken? In her panic
3429and shock could she have only thought she saw Chad explode? All of it seemed
3430like a nightmare. A bad movie. Maybe she had imagined it.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
3431She squeezed out of sight while keeping her eye on the van. A quick glance
3432around the shop. The guy behind the cash register was watching. She pretended
3433to look at the ice scrapers, picking one up and checking the price. Another
3434wave of customers came in and the guy was too busy to keep track of her. She
3435replaced the ice scraper and moved to the other side of the shop, close to the
3436restrooms, a spot where her view was only a slice of the gas pumps. But she
3437could see the parking lot's exit and the back lot. She watched the van leave.
3438Slowly it pulled out the exit and onto the street. Rebecca felt her shoulders slump
3439from relief.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
3440She pulled Dixon's iPhone out of her pocket and powered it on. Dixon was her
3441only hope. She found his last text message. She didn't need to know the number
3442if she simply pushed Reply.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
3443She tapped out her message:<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
3444U STILL THERE?<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
3445Within seconds came the response:<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
3446WHERE R U?<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
3447A GAS 'N SHOP ACROSS FROM MALL. CAN U COME GET ME?<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
3448She waited.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
3449ON MY WAY.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
3450Rebecca leaned against the wall, weak with relief. She quickly caught herself.
3451Glanced around. Cash register guy was still busy. She'd be okay. She'd wait
3452here for Dixon.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
3453Then she saw it. The dark-colored van eased its way slowly to the opposite side
3454of the parking lot, creeping to a stop alongside the back Dumpster.<br class="calibre9"/><br class="calibre9"/></p>
3455
3456<p class="calibre10"><a name="ch40"></a><strong class="calibre7">CHAPTER</strong><b class="calibre7"><br class="calibre6"/><strong class="calibre7">40</strong></b></p>
3457
3458<p class="MsoNormal1">Maggie found a Pepsi machine
3459and ice maker off the crowded lobby. Wurth had managed to get them hotel rooms.
3460Even had her bag delivered from the back of the SUV. She got the impression
3461that once you earned Charlie Wurth's respect he took good care of you. Not
3462something she was used to, especially lately with A.D. Kunze.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
3463As the last of the injured were cared for, the hotel's ballroom, reception area
3464and lobby slowly transformed into an information center for families to
3465reconnect and to find out about loved ones. Screams and cries—some out of
3466sadness, some out of relief—mixed with greetings and a litany of instructions.
3467The front revolving doors swirled continuously, bringing in a constant stream
3468of cold air and a new wave of victims, their families or responders.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
3469Maggie gently eased her way through the crowded lobby, nudging and excusing
3470herself. The constant press of bodies and steady hum of voices made it feel
3471like forever to get across to the bank of elevators.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
3472The hotel was large, an eight-story convention center, but the holidays and its
3473proximity to Mall of America ensured it was packed with regular customers. This
3474overflow of injured and worried families created an additional energy and
3475caused a commotion of its own. In the midst of all of it, Maggie had noticed
3476the disjointed line of guests dragging their suitcases and waiting to check
3477out. A good deal of frightened guests—concerned about the bombings not being
3478over or confined to the mall—wanted to be gone, leaving rooms available for law
3479enforcement and medical personnel. Maggie didn't realize how grateful she was
3480that Wurth had snatched up several of those rooms until she closed the door to
3481her own. Now as she tried to make her way back there with her Diet Pepsi and
3482bucket of ice, she realized how dead tired she was.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
3483Once inside the elevator the noise disappeared, like turning off the volume of
3484a loudspeaker. The cries and shouts and mumblings were replaced by Christmas
3485music. At first, Maggie only noticed the change because of the drastic
3486difference. As she left the elevator and started for her room, the music
3487followed her down the hallway. Then she recognized it as a nice change. A
3488soothing change.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
3489She usually survived the Christmas season by ignoring it as best as possible
3490but there were certain elements that reminded her of a pleasant time in her
3491childhood, what she called the prefire days. Music of the season was one of
3492those things that she took heart in.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
3493Maggie was twelve when her father was killed, a firefighter running back into a
3494flaming house to save the occupants. People told her she should be proud her
3495father died a hero. As a child Maggie thought that was a ridiculous thing to
3496tell her because, of course, she would rather have a live father than a dead
3497hero.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
3498Christmases after his death were usually as unpredictable as they were
3499untenable. It depended on how early in the day—or the evening before—her mother
3500decided to start the festivities and who the guests would be—Jim Beam, José
3501Cuervo or Jack Daniel. If the year had been especially successful, Johnnie
3502Walker might replace all the others.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
3503As an adult, Maggie had tried—in the beginning, at least—to start some new
3504holiday traditions with her now ex-husband, Greg. But as a young and rising
3505star in a prestigious law firm, Greg had always been more concerned with being
3506seen at the right holiday parties and leaving lasting impressions with
3507expensive gifts that he'd later grumble about not being able to afford. There
3508were no quiet moments putting up a tree, no midnight masses with inspiring
3509messages of hope, no family feasts around a crowded table. After a while the
3510Christmas season became something Maggie just got through.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
3511But every once in a while something would remind her of Christmases before the
3512fire—happy, wonderful times that now after twenty years seemed almost a figment
3513of her imagination. Earlier she thought she had seen someone who looked like
3514her father—down in the crowded lobby—so he was already on her mind.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
3515As she placed her key card into her hotel room's door the next song began:
3516"Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas." Without warning she
3517remembered her father singing the same words and that Christmas came back to
3518her in a flood of memories so vivid they couldn't possibly be made up by her
3519imagination.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
3520The three of them—her mother and father and Maggie—had spent the afternoon
3521trudging through the snow at a Wisconsin tree farm. Their mission to find and
3522cut down "the most magical Christmas tree in the field."<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
3523"How will we know it's magical?" She wanted to know but her father
3524just kept shaking his head and saying, "We'll recognize it when we see
3525it."<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
3526Maggie had been eleven that Christmas. She was too old to believe in Santa or
3527magic. When her father finally stopped and pointed to the tree he wanted, she
3528thought it looked suspiciously like all the others they had declined. But her
3529father loved to make a special event out of their outings and she and her
3530mother played along. That night they decorated the tree, sipping hot chocolate
3531and singing Christmas carols. At the time they had no idea it was to be their
3532last Christmas together. Perhaps that alone was what ended up being magical
3533about it.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
3534Inside the room, Maggie checked the time. She set aside the ice bucket. The ice
3535was for her bruises, not the soda. She guzzled half the Diet Pepsi while she
3536started pulling off her dirty clothes. Her suitcase lay open on one of the
3537double beds. She wished she had time for a shower before their press
3538conference, but she'd settle for a change of clothes. She turned on the TV only
3539to fill the quiet, glancing briefly. Then she stopped completely.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
3540The scene being played out looked like an episode of the reality show, <i class="calibre8">Cops</i>.
3541It was, in fact, the local news. The camera had captured her chase of the young
3542Sudanese boy. It wasn't the first time the channel was playing it. The anchors
3543were commenting as though they had seen it over and over and were now doing an
3544instant replay analysis.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
3545"Here it is," the woman said just as Maggie watched herself jump up
3546onto the hood of the compact car.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
3547"Whoa," the two anchors joined together.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
3548"That had to hurt," the woman added but she said it like she was a
3549proud mother. "We've just learned that agent, Special Agent Margaret
3550O'Dell, is a profiler from Quantico who is here at the request of Governor Williams."<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
3551A professional photo of Maggie appeared in the corner of the television screen.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
3552The anchor continued, "Special Agent O'Dell was able to assist and tell
3553local law enforcement that this teenaged boy was not one of the bombers simply
3554by the profile she has already come up with for the homicide bombers. The
3555boy—"<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
3556Maggie's cell phone started ringing.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
3557On the television screen a photo of the boy was added alongside Maggie's.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
3558"This is Maggie O'Dell."<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
3559"Some good news and some bad news," Charlie Wurth announced without a
3560greeting.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
3561"What's the good news?"<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
3562"You don't have to do the press conference. I'll join Chief Merrick and
3563his home team for this one."<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
3564"Let me guess. A.D. Kunze doesn't want to exploit my escapade."<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
3565"Aw, so you're watching."<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
3566"Just turned on the TV. Looks like the local station caught it."<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
3567"<i class="calibre8">Au contraire, cheri</i>," he said giving his voice a pretty good
3568New Orleans Cajun spin, "Networks just picked it up. CNN and FOX have it,
3569too. You're a star."<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
3570"So I'm guessing that's the bad news."<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
3571"No, no. That's not it. Remember how disappointed your supervisor was about
3572a half hour ago? Well, now he's fit to be tied. He did want me to tell you that
3573we're all meeting down in the command center, ground level, room 119. Your
3574presence is greatly appreciated. Why don't you wait and come down in about
3575thirty minutes. I should be finished with the media by then and I'll do my best
3576to play interference."<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
3577He was gone before she could thank him. She found the remote and clicked
3578through the channels. Sure enough, there was the chase in various stages on
3579different channels.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
3580Her phone started ringing again. What had Wurth forgotten to tell her?<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
3581"This is Maggie O'Dell."<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
3582"Hey, it's Nick. What are you doing right now?" He sounded as casual
3583as if he were asking her on a date. Obviously he hadn't seen a television yet.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
3584"Having my nails done, followed by a spa treatment."<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
3585He laughed long and hard. Like someone who hadn't laughed in quite some time
3586and didn't expect to right this moment. So long, in fact, that she had to wait
3587for him. It made her smile.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
3588Then he was serious, again. "We heard the fourth bomber was a false alarm.
3589Are you okay?"<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
3590"A few bruises. I'm fine."<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
3591"Listen, Jerry and I just learned a few interesting things. I know we're
3592all meeting over at the command center in a little bit, but I thought you might
3593like a heads-up."<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
3594"So what did you learn?"<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
3595He told her about the bomb expert's findings. It only confirmed her suspicions,
3596that the young men carrying the backpacks had no clue what was to happen today.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
3597He told her that Jerry was downloading the best shots they had found of the
3598five suspects and ended by asking if there was anything else she wanted them to
3599bring.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
3600"How 'bout a burger and fries," she said.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
3601"I'll see what I can do."<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
3602He hung up before she could tell if he knew she was joking. With Morrelli it
3603was hard to decipher. There had always been chemistry between them but
3604otherwise they seemed out of sync with no common ground to rely on. Maybe she'd
3605simply given up trying to figure it out.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
3606She finished peeling off the rest of her clothes. Ironically the chase had been
3607good for her, mentally as well as physically. A month ago she wasn't sure her
3608body would hold up to those sorts of challenges ever again. She had felt weak
3609and nauseated. A fever and nosebleeds sent her into a tailspin of panic,
3610constantly wondering if the virus she had been exposed to might be replicating
3611itself inside her body. At times she believed she could feel it exploding her
3612blood cells. But she'd been lucky. She'd gone past the incubation stage and
3613still showed no signs of the virus. Yes, she'd dodged yet another bullet,
3614unlike Cunningham.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
3615Now as she examined her injured right side she could see it had already started
3616to turn blue and purple. Next to the scars on her torso, the bruises looked
3617mild. No big deal. She'd accepted the fact that her body was becoming a road
3618map of past cases. Told herself it came with the territory. When you tracked
3619killers for a living, sometimes it got rough. Most of those memories had been
3620safely compartmentalized. Eventually the fear and panic of the exposure would
3621find its own compartment. Now if only she could do the same with her personal
3622life.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
3623Her friend Gwen Patterson, the professional psychologist whose past client list
3624included killers as well as five-star generals, didn't believe in compartments.
3625She oftentimes reminded Maggie that stuffing everything behind doors and into
3626convenient little compartments of the mind sometimes had a way of backfiring.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
3627"One of these days a few walls may crumble. Then what?"<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
3628She suggested Maggie find a way to sift through the good and bad. Learn how to
3629hang onto the good stuff. But what if the good—those memories of her
3630father—only reminded her of what's missing in her life? Maybe that's what Nick
3631Morrelli was reminding her of, again. Too many things missing.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
3632Maggie checked the time. A five-minute shower would definitely do her wonders.
3633And then she needed to learn some things on her own. She pulled out her laptop
3634and plugged it in on her way to the shower.<br class="calibre9"/><br class="calibre9"/></p>
3635
3636<p class="calibre10"><a name="ch41"></a><strong class="calibre7">CHAPTER</strong><b class="calibre7"><br class="calibre6"/><strong class="calibre7">41</strong></b></p>
3637
3638<p class="MsoNormal1">Henry Lee sat next to his
3639wife's bed, staring at the tubes connecting her to a half a dozen machines. The
3640biggest tube that came out from under the covers at the foot of the bed held
3641his attention. Yellow and red fluids pumped through it, mixing into a spiral of
3642pink. It nauseated him whenever he let himself think that fluid was actually
3643being pumped out of Hannah.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
3644He watched the tubes because he couldn't quite look directly at her. She was
3645bloated beyond recognition, thin lips shoved apart by more tubes down her
3646throat. Her eyelids fluttered and sometimes he caught her looking for him. Did
3647she know he was here? He grabbed her hand and squeezed.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
3648"That's good." The nurse noticed as she came into the intensive care
3649room. "She's going to be a little uncomfortable as she starts to notice
3650the tube down her throat. We're easing back on the morphine so she'll wake
3651up."<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
3652"Uncomfortable?" He didn't like the sound of that. He didn't want her
3653to be in pain. He stood and wrapped Hannah's hand in both of his.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
3654"It's okay." The nurse recognized his angst. "We need her to be
3655a little more awake and alert so when we pull the tube out she'll breathe on
3656her own. Otherwise heart patients want to sleep and let the machine continue to
3657do all the work for them."<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
3658"But she'll be in pain?" He wasn't satisfied.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
3659"Uncomfortable." The nurse corrected him. "As soon as we get it
3660out, we'll be able to increase the dose again. It won't take long."<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
3661Hannah was staring up at him now, eyes blurred but she looked like she was
3662trying to tell him that she hurt. Though her arms were poked with needles and
3663tubes she was attempting to reach up to her throat, glassy eyes imploring him
3664to help her. It killed him to see her like this.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
3665"She'll be okay," the nurse said. "I'm going to need you to step
3666out of the room while we take the tube out."<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
3667He didn't move. He didn't want to leave her. Her eyes kept pleading with him.
3668How could he leave?<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
3669The nurse put a hand on his shoulder.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
3670"It'll only be a few minutes. I'll come get you just as soon as we're
3671finished."<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
3672He tried to keep his face from wincing or showing his concern. No, it wasn't
3673just concern. Who was he fooling? It was fear…pure and simple. He could not
3674lose this woman. Losing a daughter was one thing, like cutting off one of his
3675arms. But Hannah? That would be like ripping out his own heart. You can survive
3676without an arm. It's tough as hell but you find a way. Without Hannah? No, he'd
3677never be strong enough to survive without her.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
3678"I'll be right here, Hannah. The nurse is going to take good care of
3679you." Then he added as if he needed to hear it out loud, "You're
3680going to be just fine."<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
3681He walked out of the room, his knees so weak he had to put his hand up against
3682the wall to steady himself. He made it through the double-wide doors that took
3683him out of the Intensive Coronary Care unit, and he felt like he couldn't
3684breathe. The waiting room was still empty. He dropped into one of the
3685unyielding vinyl chairs.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
3686He glanced around. Still no Dixon. Henry hadn't seen the boy since he left with
3687Henry's cell phone to call his friends. He still couldn't believe that they had
3688found a way to use Dixon, to suck his own grandson into this. My God, they went
3689so far as to seek out and target the boy's friends. And why? Because of Henry's
3690apprehension? Because they wanted to ensure his silence?<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
3691He closed his eyes and shook his head. He still couldn't believe it. He wanted
3692to call Allan again. Ask him if he knew. Find out what the hell was going on?
3693How could something that had begun with such honorable intentions turn into a
3694greedy and disgusting grab for power and money?<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
3695The boy's absence only made Henry more anxious. He was relieved to have Dixon
3696safe and with him, but now he grew impatient with the boy. Of course, he was
3697concerned about his friends but his grandmother had just come out of major
3698heart surgery. He should be here at her side…at Henry's side.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
3699He absolutely hated to admit that he needed someone to be at his side. For
3700forty years he had worked his way up to establish a successful business, a
3701national success. A Fortune 500 success. Even in retirement he had refused to
3702hand it over, insisting on remaining chairman, casting the deciding vote,
3703always in control and on top of things. Or so he believed until now.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
3704Hannah's emergency surgery had certainly caught him off guard. Just like his
3705daughter's death. He had believed there could be no worse day than that
3706dreadful one in April back in 1995. The difference—Hannah was there with him,
3707by his side.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
3708Right now he didn't care about anything else. Didn't care that their strategy
3709had gone so terribly wrong. Or had it? Is this exactly what they wanted to
3710happen?<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
3711Henry was beginning to understand that what he considered patriotism and honor,
3712his so-called business associates appeared to see as only methods to raise
3713profit margins and leverage political power. Henry had made a mistake. He
3714realized that now. Family was what mattered most. Family was the most important
3715thing. Everything else—country, business, even honor, were secondary. The
3716tragic irony was that it was his sense of family that had sent him down this
3717path in the first place. Only he had strayed too far. He'd forgotten what his
3718original mission was, letting his pride and pigheaded stubborn ideals
3719jeopardize everything else. Everything including what family he had left. How
3720the hell could he ever make this right again?<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
3721On TV the local channels were still live at Mall of America. A press conference
3722was going on but in the corner of the screen a chase scene from earlier played
3723out. Still no confirmation on how many were dead though the estimate had been put
3724at anywhere from twenty-five to fifty. Hundreds more had been injured.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
3725Henry rubbed at his eyes then rubbed his hands together. His fingers were
3726trembling. He glanced down the hallway. Where the hell was Dixon? They had told
3727him earlier that he could use the phone in the waiting room for local calls. He
3728just needed to dial a 9 first. He grabbed the receiver and punched in the
3729number for his cell phone.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
3730Sometimes a boy needed to be reminded of his obligations. Family needed to
3731stick together. And damn it! He needed Dixon here with him, not off checking on
3732his friends.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
3733The phone rang four, five times before a voice answered that Henry didn't
3734recognize.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
3735"It took you long enough to call."<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
3736"Who is this?"<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
3737"Never mind that. I'm sure you'll want to talk to your grandson."<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
3738There was a muffled sound and then, "Granddad? What's going on?"<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
3739Only Dixon sounded muffled, too, as though he were being kept a distance from
3740the phone. Then he heard the boy yell out in pain and this time Henry Lee felt
3741his knees give out completely.<br class="calibre9"/><br class="calibre9"/></p>
3742
3743<p class="calibre10"><a name="ch42"></a><strong class="calibre7">CHAPTER</strong><b class="calibre7"><br class="calibre6"/><strong class="calibre7">42</strong></b></p>
3744
3745<p class="MsoNormal1">Patrick had wandered around the
3746hotel for long enough. He'd been up and down every hallway on every floor,
3747checking stairwells, riding freight elevators and popping through doors to
3748laundry rooms, ready to apologize each time. Rebecca wasn't here.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
3749It was freezing cold outside. He kept alongside the busy highway though there
3750were no sidewalks and little room for pedestrians. On this night he wasn't
3751alone. There was a lot of chaos in and out of the parking lots of businesses that
3752bordered Mall of America.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
3753Would Rebecca have risked going to one of the restaurants? He didn't think so.
3754There were absolutely no taxi cabs. Rescue vehicles and police cruisers still
3755lined the edges, red and blue lights flashing but the sirens off now. News vans
3756with satellites on their roofs and reporters and camera crews took up any other
3757available space. Uniformed cops directed traffic in and out of the hotel
3758parking lot. All of the mall's entrances looked like they were barricaded. A
3759Red Cross RV was stationed near the front of the mall with shuttle vans.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
3760No, there was enough chaos that no one noticed Patrick walking in and out of
3761traffic. And no one would have noticed Rebecca either.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
3762He stopped at a busy intersection, this one still using the traffic lights
3763instead of a uniformed cop. Vehicles headed for the interstate could speed off
3764to the ramp with no wait, unlike those stalled in the other direction. They had
3765to wait in stop-and-go traffic inching their way toward the mall and the hotel.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
3766Earlier he'd tried directory assistance to get a phone number for Dixon Lee.
3767Nothing. There were no directories for cell phones. He got a number for Henry
3768Lee. Practiced what he'd say to the man if he answered.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
3769He dialed. Waited. Only an answering machine.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
3770Of course, Mr. Lee was probably still at the hospital. Patrick didn't have a
3771message rehearsed for the answering machine so he hung up. He was running out
3772of ideas. He was cold. He was hungry and he was worried about Rebecca.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
3773That's when he saw her.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
3774Across the street he recognized her. She had just come out of the Gas 'N Shop.
3775Tentative at first, holding onto the door of the shop as if she might need to
3776run back in.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
3777"Rebecca," he yelled. His voice got lost in the hum of four lanes of
3778traffic between them. He tried to cross against the light and the blast of a
3779car's horn stopped him. One lane of traffic moved slowly. The other didn't need
3780to wait for him and let him know. Evidently the Good Samaritan patience was
3781wearing thin.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
3782He found himself shifting, pacing, while waiting to run across as soon as the
3783light changed. In the meantime, he watched helplessly as Rebecca hesitated then
3784relinquished her hold on the shop's door. Slowly she approached a white sedan,
3785bending to a rolled-down passenger window before getting into the car.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
3786A sigh of relief. Patrick recognized the car. He'd spent two days in that
3787vehicle, riding and driving from Connecticut to Minnesota. Yes, now he could
3788see the <i class="calibre8">Batman: The Dark Knight</i> decal on the back window. It was Dixon's
3789car.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/><i class="calibre8">Thank goodness.</i><br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
3790Patrick started crossing the street as the car left the shop. He ran against
3791the wind and ice. Twice he slipped, almost falling. He waved his arms though
3792the car was driving away from him, leaving the parking lot. He raced around the
3793gas pumps, zigzagging between vehicles, taking a short cut. Dixon's car pulled
3794onto the highway just as a van honked, almost hitting Patrick, so close he
3795could feel the heat of its engine at his side. He jumped onto a curb, out of
3796the woman's way. Now all he could do was watch as Dixon's car gunned its engine
3797and sped toward the interstate ramp without even noticing him.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
3798He was out of breath. His high-tops were caked with snow, his fingertips numb,
3799his hair wet and plastered to his head. He stood there watching the red
3800taillights disappear as pellets of ice pricked at his face.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
3801It was okay, he told himself. He could relax. At least Rebecca was safe.<br class="calibre9"/><br class="calibre9"/></p>
3802
3803<p class="calibre10"><a name="ch43"></a><strong class="calibre7">CHAPTER</strong><b class="calibre7"><br class="calibre6"/><strong class="calibre7">43</strong></b></p>
3804
3805<p class="MsoNormal1">Maggie shouldered her way
3806through the crowded hallway. The entire floor of conference rooms at the hotel
3807had become a makeshift command center. She passed one door she recognized as
3808the triage room and another where victims reunited with families. Room 119 was
3809at the end of the hall.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
3810She had changed into blue jeans, a turtleneck sweater and leather flats. Her
3811Smith &amp; Wesson stayed back inside her room's safe, along with her badge.
3812All she carried was her smartphone, her ID, a credit card, room key card and a
3813twenty-dollar bill she'd slid into her jeans pocket.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
3814Nick and Jerry Yarden waited outside the door, both smiling at her. She could
3815tell they'd seen the chase scene by now. So had the others. It was obvious as
3816soon as she walked into the room. Heads turned and nodded. Eyes glanced then
3817stayed and stared.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
3818It was a small group. Maybe a dozen. Police chief Daryl Merrick's group was in
3819another room. Merrick had won jurisdiction and ended up lead on the case. He
3820had his hands full recovering bodies and rescuing injured, setting up
3821information centers for victims and families, not to mention juggling a media
3822nightmare. However, it'd be up to the federal agencies—Homeland Security and
3823the FBI—to conduct the investigation, issue warrants and track down the
3824killers. That was this group, gathered in Room 119. Most of its members were
3825still at the scene, sifting through debris and interviewing witnesses. They
3826would still be cataloguing evidence and piecing together theories in the days,
3827even weeks after tonight.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
3828Charlie Wurth was back from the press conference and at the front of the room,
3829setting up a huge dry-erase board. Alongside him a CSI tech plugged in a
3830computer and arranged a projection screen. Nick introduced Maggie to David
3831Ceimo and a bomb expert, named Jamie, while Yarden made his way to the front of
3832the room to hand off a jump drive containing the grainy, blurred images—the
3833best shots they'd found—of the five suspects. Maggie listened to Nick and David
3834Ceimo explain their connection while she watched Yarden with Charlie Wurth.
3835There appeared to be some discussion, then Wurth was pointing to the computer.
3836It looked like he wanted Yarden to stay and help run the show.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
3837"Okay, people," A.D. Kunze said as he made his entrance into the
3838room, pulling the door closed and letting it slam shut behind him. "I know
3839everybody's tired. Let's get to this."<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
3840Wurth nodded at Yarden and handed him a wireless remote.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
3841"Go ahead," Wurth told him.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
3842Yarden was a bit hesitant. Maggie could tell he was nervous. The tips of his
3843ears had begun to turn crimson. He was a master at the computer panel but it
3844was different in a dark room with only monitors. Here in front of a group of
3845law enforcement officers it would be a bit out of Yarden's realm.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
3846Yarden glanced down before cueing up the photos on the projection screen. On
3847the computer monitor Maggie could see there were rows of photos, about five
3848photos in each row. The images, now jpegs, would have been downloaded from
3849digital cameras used to record the scene. They were joined by the images Yarden
3850had brought from the surveillance videos.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
3851Yarden pushed a few buttons on the computer keyboard then pointed the wireless
3852remote and clicked. A crime scene photo of one of the craters came onto the
3853projection screen. He clicked again and another image came up alongside. On
3854closer inspection, Maggie could see the smaller image was one of the shots of
3855the same area from a surveillance camera before the explosion.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
3856"We initially believed there were three bombers," Yarden started to
3857explain. "Then we discovered the site of one of the bombs was the women's
3858restroom." He clicked the remote and the "before" shot was
3859replaced by one with a zoomed-in image of the sign.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
3860Yarden waited a few minutes then he cued up three more shots: the grainy images
3861of four men and one young woman. Even on the projection screen Maggie was
3862struck by how indecipherable the images were. They would never be able to
3863identify them.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
3864"What's your assessment, Agent O'Dell?" A.D. Kunze boomed from his
3865perch against the back wall. "You must have a profile established. After
3866all, you were able to determine that young man in the parking lot was not one
3867of the five."<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
3868There was silence. These were trained investigators. They knew this was an
3869unfair call-out even if Kunze hadn't used a condescending tone.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
3870"At least one of them may have been a college student," Maggie said.
3871"We were able to make out logos on a ball cap and letterman jacket."
3872She saw Yarden cueing up those close-ups even as she spoke. "All five are
3873Caucasian, between the ages of eighteen and twenty-six. None are wearing
3874anything controversial. Other than the ball cap and letterman jacket there's
3875nothing to indicate by the way that they're dressed that they belong to a
3876specific organization or gang. There's no visible piercings or tattoos. I know
3877there was some expectation to connect these individuals to a group like CAP,
3878but I see no evidence of that from the videos."<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
3879"That's Citizens for American Pride," Wurth added. "There were
3880some warnings about an event called into Senator Foster's office." Then he
3881pointed to the photos and he said, "We had three bombs, you have five suspects."<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
3882"Right," Maggie continued. "It appears that two of the people
3883came into the mall with one of the bombers. Because one of those backpacks
3884ended up in the women's restroom, we suspect the young woman was involved. And
3885possibly the other young man. I might add that none of the five suspects appear
3886to be overly anxious or nervous. And certainly didn't act like homicide
3887bombers."<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
3888"Which follows my theory," Jamie, the bomb expert joined in.
3889"There's preliminary evidence that all three bombs were detonated by
3890remote control. I'm speculating that none of these individuals knew they were
3891carrying explosives. Or if they did, they didn't believe they would be
3892detonated while they were carrying them, otherwise, there's no reason for an
3893off-site remote. Also just from the fragments I can already determine the devices
3894were constructed by someone who knew what he was doing. A professional.
3895Definitely someone who was trained in the use and handling of explosives."<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
3896"But in the case you told us about earlier," Nick said, "you
3897mentioned this detonator had some similarities to a guy who drew up a blueprint
3898for a dirty bomb. If I'm remembering correctly, didn't you say he claimed he
3899did it for a class project? Wasn't he a student?"<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
3900"I remember the detonator," Jamie told him. "I'm sorry, I don't
3901remember other details." She glanced around and noticed that wasn't good
3902enough. "I can get details."<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
3903Wurth nodded, satisfied.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
3904Kunze didn't look satisfied. "What about groups like CAP?" he asked,
3905looking to Maggie again. "We certainly can't dismiss their involvement
3906simply because none of these kids were wearing AMERICAN PRIDE T-shirts."<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
3907"Agreed," Maggie told him. "I did some checking. The ball cap
3908and letterman jacket are from the University of Minnesota here in the twin
3909cities. Citizens for American Pride held two rallies on campus within the last
3910year, the most recent, last month. However, the university hosts a variety of
3911similar events and forums."<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
3912"So it's possible these kids were members?" Kunze wanted to know.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
3913"As I said earlier, there's no evidence that points to that, but
3914yes," Maggie conceded, "it's possible."<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
3915Kunze seemed satisfied. He left before the meeting was adjourned. Maggie
3916couldn't help but wonder why he was so determined to pin the bombings on this
3917particular group. From her brief research before coming down to the meeting,
3918she couldn't find a single incident of violence or criminal behavior attributed
3919to the group. Sure, they had made some outrageous statements but even the
3920so-called warnings or threats that Senator Foster's office had received were
3921mild. They also hadn't taken credit for the attack which was odd.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
3922Wurth and Yarden went over more crime scene photos. They created a list of
3923information, evidence and leads. When they were finished David Ceimo offered to
3924take them out for burgers and beer. Maggie realized, as she often did, that
3925only law enforcement officials would think of food after a meeting like this.<br class="calibre9"/><br class="calibre9"/></p>
3926
3927<p class="calibre10"><a name="ch44"></a><strong class="calibre7">CHAPTER</strong><b class="calibre7"><br class="calibre6"/><strong class="calibre7">44</strong></b></p>
3928
3929<p class="MsoNormal1">Nick scooted into the tall
3930leather-backed booth behind David Ceimo. He wanted to kick himself. He'd
3931hesitated. Overcompensated. He didn't want to look obvious about wanting to sit
3932next to Maggie and now Yarden beat him to it. Not only that but Yarden had
3933managed to fit himself right in between Maggie and Jamie while David Ceimo and
3934Nick took up the other side of the huge corner booth. Deputy Director Charlie
3935Wurth was supposed to join them later. Nick figured he should have invited A.D.
3936Kunze, too, but he couldn't find the FBI guy. He'd left the briefing early and
3937no one seemed to know where he had gone.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
3938Nick was relieved to be away from the scene, even if it would be for an hour or
3939two. As a county sheriff and then a prosecutor, he'd been to plenty of crime
3940scenes. But nothing this massive and never this many fatalities. He had gained
3941a new respect for those left behind still sifting and walking the grids around
3942the craters.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
3943On a busy Friday evening, The Rose and Crown was packed. The English-style pub
3944had a lobby full of guests waiting, but Ceimo's older brother Chris owned the
3945place. He had escorted the five of them personally to the quieter of two rooms.
3946Now he came back with place settings, handing them oversized menus and taking
3947their drink orders himself.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
3948"On the house," Chris told them.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
3949"No," David insisted. "I can't let you do that."<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
3950"I'm not letting any first responders pay tonight." The older Ceimo
3951was shorter than his brother, handsome with a quick smile but serious dark
3952eyes. "We all make our livings, in part, because of the mall and the
3953airport. Something like this happens, we have to pitch in somehow. It's the
3954least I can do."<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
3955They watched him leave then David said, "His partner brought over a bunch
3956of food to the scene. I had to get him cleared through security. They almost
3957wouldn't allow it till Chief Merrick noticed a pastrami on rye." He
3958smiled, obviously proud of his older brother. "Must have brought four or
3959five dozen sandwiches."<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
3960"Yeah, that was nice," Jamie said. "People don't usually think
3961about us needing to eat. My boyfriend always thinks it's gross that we'd even
3962want to, but after six or seven hours you get hungry."<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
3963"You want, I can have Chris shut off this television." David pointed
3964to one of the many screens suspended throughout the pub. This one was off to
3965their side about ten feet away, just over Nick's right shoulder. The volume had
3966been muted and closed captions ran along the bottom of the screen.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
3967Nick found himself looking to Maggie. David did, too. Even as they waited for
3968an answer the video footage of the now infamous chase was being played.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
3969"It's okay," she said after it took a second or two for her to
3970realize they were allowing her to make the decision. "If there's an update
3971or a break in the case, where better to find out?"<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
3972They all laughed. Nick realized every one of them probably had a story to tell
3973of the news media preempting one of the cases they'd worked on. However, he
3974doubted that any of them had been preempted by a journalist in their own
3975family. His sister, Christine, had done it to him twice in the past. Once even
3976compromising her son, Timmy's safety. He thought she'd learned her lesson, but
3977he didn't trust her. It was almost as if she couldn't help it. Like a drug
3978addict. Even now he avoided returning her calls. Was she concerned or looking
3979for a scoop?<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
3980Briefly he realized her calls might concern their dad, but Christine would say
3981so, wouldn't she? His dad's health had been deteriorating the past several
3982months, bad to worse with no hope of recovery. The stroke he'd suffered four
3983years ago had reduced him to a shadow of the man Antonio Morrelli had once
3984been. But some things never changed and Nick thought the old man was stubborn
3985enough to stick around just out of spite and to ruin Christmas for all the rest
3986of them. Maybe deep down that's what Nick hoped. Whether he wanted to admit it
3987or not, he wasn't quite ready for his father's departure, for him to be gone
3988completely and forever from his life.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
3989He scratched at the stubble on his jaw and rubbed at his eyes. When he looked
3990up he found Maggie watching him from across the table. The others were talking
3991about food, their attention buried in the large menu placards. But not Maggie.
3992She had one elbow on the ridge that separated the booth from the wall. Her
3993cheek rested against her hand. David Ceimo sat directly across from her, Yarden
3994right next to her and yet, she was watching Nick from clear across the diagonal
3995of the table.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
3996At first he glanced away. But her eyes were still there when he looked up again
3997and this time he met them despite the flutter they stirred in his gut. She
3998looked tired, but she smiled, just a little. Her eyes were still serious with
3999an intensity he recognized. From the first time he met Maggie O'Dell he felt
4000like those eyes could examine anyone deeply, and he knew they missed nothing.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
4001Their drinks came at that moment. Before Chris finished setting them down,
4002Yarden was pointing at the television screen, waving his arms to get their
4003attention.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
4004"Holy crap," Yarden blurted as he tried to stand up for a better
4005look. "They have the bombers."<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
4006Nick had to look over his shoulder. Three photos of three young men were
4007displayed in the middle of the screen. Names appeared beneath them and on the
4008CC crawl at the bottom of the screen.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
4009Chris reached up and turned the volume on:<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/><i class="calibre8">"…were last seen. Two unnamed sources have verified the identity of
4010three men allegedly involved in the bombing at Mall of America. All three are
4011college students, two at the University of Minnesota and one at the University
4012of New Haven in Connecticut. Again, the three young men are, Chad Hendricks of
4013St. Paul, Minnesota; Tyler Bennett also of St. Paul, Minnesota and Patrick
4014Murphy of Green Bay, Wisconsin."</i><br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
4015"Son of a bitch." Ceimo was the first to speak. "What sources?
4016Where the hell did they get photos and names?" He was pulling his smartphone
4017from his jacket pocket, as he slid across the booth's bench. Nick barely got
4018out of the bench and out of his way.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
4019Nick glanced around the table as he sat back down. Both Yarden and Jamie's eyes
4020were still glued to the television screen. Maggie's face had gone white and she
4021was digging for her own cell phone.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
4022"What is it?" Nick asked her. She looked like she had seen a ghost.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
4023"Patrick Murphy."<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
4024He noticed her fingers had a slight tremble as she punched at her cell phone's
4025menu. He could see she was searching for a number.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
4026She glanced back up at him. He thought he saw a glimpse of panic before she
4027looked back down. Without giving him her eyes again, she said, "Patrick
4028Murphy is my stepbrother."<br class="calibre9"/><br class="calibre9"/></p>
4029
4030<p class="calibre10"><a name="ch45"></a><strong class="calibre7">CHAPTER</strong><b class="calibre7"><br class="calibre6"/><strong class="calibre7">45</strong></b></p>
4031
4032<p class="MsoNormal1">Maggie excused herself,
4033suddenly feeling claustrophobic up against the wall. Yarden and the bomb expert
4034named Jamie couldn't move quick enough to release her from the corner of the
4035booth. She needed to get out of the noise and the crowd and the prying concern
4036of Nick Morrelli's eyes. She escaped to the restroom, only to find a long line
4037waiting for the stalls. But it was quiet here if you didn't count the cell
4038phone conversations.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
4039On her own phone she searched the queue for Patrick's number. She had called
4040him a week ago—ten days at most—to invite him to Thanksgiving. He already had
4041plans. He was going out of town with friends to spend the long holiday with
4042them. She pretended like it was no big deal.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
4043Maggie blamed herself. She was the adult, twelve years older and yet, she had
4044no idea how to take on the role of the decision-maker, the family planner. No
4045idea how to be or act like a big sister. Hell, she had no idea how to act like
4046a family.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
4047Now as she searched her phone's menu she wondered why she hadn't memorized his
4048phone number. She was good with numbers and details. Even as she jotted things
4049down while viewing the videotapes she knew she didn't need the notes. The
4050discovery of Patrick two years ago had brought with it a whole storm, not just
4051about having a brother but all her preconceptions about her father. The parent
4052she loved and missed and remembered with adoration had actually led a secret
4053life. And for two decades her mother continued to keep his secret. Patrick
4054reminded Maggie of that every single time she saw him or talked to him. It was
4055crazy and she needed to find a way around it if she ever intended to have a
4056relationship with him. But not having his phone number was another reminder
4057that she evidently wasn't ready. Now here she was hoping Patrick's number was
4058in her phone's call history.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
4059Her fingers kept hitting more than the arrow buttons. She had to focus, to
4060concentrate despite the flushing toilets and the nagging little girl who wanted
4061to go into the stall by herself. Even from behind the stalls there were
4062conversations. People on their phones. Couldn't they go to the restroom without
4063talking about their day? Though tonight's conversations were sprinkled with
4064excitement and concern about the bombing and the newly released suspects.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
4065Finally, Maggie found the number. She started to hit "return call"
4066then glanced around again and stopped. How exactly was she going to do this?
4067She moved away from the line, back into another corner by a sink that had an
4068Out of Order sign posted on the mirror in front of it.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
4069She hit the button, closed her eyes and waited. It didn't need to ring twice.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
4070"Becca?" It was Patrick, anxious and out of breath.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
4071She had no idea who Becca was. Of course not. She had no idea who any of her
4072brother's friends were.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
4073"It's Maggie, Patrick."<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
4074The silence lasted so long she was afraid he had hung up.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
4075"Patrick, are you involved in this?"<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
4076She wished he'd ask what? Maybe even pretend he had no idea what she was
4077talking about.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
4078"I wasn't with Chad and Tyler, if that's what you're asking."<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
4079Maggie leaned against the tiled wall. God! He knew who they were. If he hadn't
4080known them, he wouldn't call them by name. They'd only be the other two
4081suspects.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
4082"You know them?"<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
4083"They were friends of one of the friends I was with." He let out a
4084long sigh. "That sounds lame, doesn't it?"<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
4085He sounded so young. Had she ever been that young, that naïve? She noted that
4086he said "were." Past tense. Did he know the two young men were dead?<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
4087"You're wanted for questioning," she told him and hated that she
4088sounded entirely like an FBI agent and not at all like a sister. Why could she
4089not get a hang of this?<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
4090"Yeah, I just saw."<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
4091"Where are you?"<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
4092Silence.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
4093"Patrick, you're going to have to trust me or I can't help you."<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
4094"Let me think about it."<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
4095She was pacing as much as the corner allowed, getting frustrated. What was
4096there to think about? Letting her help him or trusting her?<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
4097"I'll let you know," he said in what sounded like a rush. And then he
4098was gone. Silence.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
4099"Damn it!"<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
4100Her anger surprised her and drew looks. Even a couple of stall conversations
4101came to a halt. Maggie pretended to ignore it all and she stomped toward the
4102door. This time the line parted for her long before she had to ask or squeeze
4103through.<br class="calibre9"/><br class="calibre9"/></p>
4104
4105<p class="calibre10"><a name="ch46"></a><strong class="calibre7">CHAPTER</strong><b class="calibre7"><br class="calibre6"/><strong class="calibre7">46</strong></b></p>
4106
4107<p class="MsoNormal1">Asante finished the
4108cheeseburger and fries, leaving a reasonable tip. An ordinary meal that
4109wouldn't stand out and an ordinary tip that wouldn't leave a negative or overly
4110positive impression. Ordinary, he had learned long ago, was the key to being
4111invisible.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
4112As he headed back to his gate he noticed groups of people at all the other
4113gates amassed under the television monitors. He stopped, as did the others
4114walking in front and behind him even though he already knew what the commotion
4115was. The local television station had finally decided to release the photos his
4116crew had anonymously submitted. He watched for a while then continued through
4117the terminal, turning his head as he passed other televisions. He had to, at
4118least, pretend to be interested and surprised and appropriately disgusted.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
4119The waiting area for his gate was full, not a single seat available. The
4120regulars who raced to board first were already standing near the door, their
4121oversized carry-ons left in the way, making it impossible for anyone to
4122overtake their position or even pass by.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
4123Asante had always hated airport travel. In recent years it had become only
4124worse. There were no longer manners or etiquette. People treated the waiting
4125areas like their living rooms, tossing coats and bags on seats that should be
4126left for other passengers. They gobbled down fast food while talking on their
4127cell phones, carrying on conversations that others shouldn't have to listen to.
4128They let their kids scream and crawl and run around. It was almost as bad as a
4129mall. And yes, though he treated each of his projects as professional assignments,
4130it had brought him a slight pleasure to blow up the largest shopping mall in
4131America. Likewise it would give him considerable pleasure to blow up one of the
4132busiest airports during the busiest travel day of the year.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
4133As he drew near the information desk he was pleased to see he wouldn't have to
4134ask any questions or depend on eavesdropping on others as they questioned the
4135airline clerk. Posted below their flight number and destination was now a
4136departure time. He still had an hour wait, but the posted time meant the plane
4137had left—or at least been cleared to leave—Chicago.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
4138He settled close to one of the television monitors. It was only an hour. He
4139could pretend to be interested in the calamity for an hour.<br class="calibre9"/><br class="calibre9"/></p>
4140
4141<p class="calibre10"><a name="ch47"></a><strong class="calibre7">CHAPTER</strong><b class="calibre7"><br class="calibre6"/><strong class="calibre7">47</strong></b></p>
4142
4143<p class="MsoNormal1">Patrick shoved his hands deep
4144into his jacket pockets. His cell phone stayed buried in his fist. How could he
4145trust Maggie? He barely knew her. It hadn't been that long ago that he
4146discovered she existed. That they shared a father. She got the legal version.
4147He got the illegitimate one. Both their mothers kept them from knowing about
4148each other, some twisted pact Patrick's mother said was "a profound
4149mistake." Of course she called it that only after the secret had been
4150found out.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
4151Now Patrick stood under the awning of a restaurant adjacent to the mall. He had
4152walked into the place hoping to finally get out of the cold, sit down and have
4153something to eat. The restaurant was packed, but he had found an empty bar
4154stool in the lounge and ordered a Sam Adams. He was taking the first sips while
4155he looked over a menu. That's when the news alert came on.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
4156The television monitors were back behind the bar, high up, and everyone was
4157watching or pointing.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
4158Patrick almost choked. He still couldn't believe it was his picture, his name.
4159He had just taken a drink of the beer. Could barely swallow. Why did the police
4160think he had something to do with the bombing? And now Maggie did, too. He
4161didn't even know Chad and Tyler. Had never met them. Dixon pointed them out at
4162the mall this morning. That was it.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
4163Now here Patrick was out in the cold, again, shivering, teeth chattering.
4164Soaking wet from his head to his toes. He made his way back to the hotel,
4165avoided making eye contact with anyone, keeping his head down. Though he
4166honestly wondered if anyone could recognize him in his present condition.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
4167By now he figured he knew the hotel better than anywhere else. If he needed to
4168hide, it seemed the best place. He took the stairwell to the fourth floor,
4169knowing from his previous search that this was one of the quieter floors. He
4170waited to make sure no one was in the laundry room before he went in. Helped
4171himself to enough towels to dry himself off. He even found a pair of work
4172coveralls.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
4173He peeled out of his wet clothes, rolled them up in some towels and threw them
4174into one of the dryers. The coveralls were a size too big. He had to turn up
4175the cuffs. But they were dry and warm. He decided to take off his wet high-tops
4176and his socks and threw them into the dryer, too. If any of the maids caught
4177him he knew enough Spanish to make up a good story. At this time of night he
4178didn't expect to see much housekeeping staff.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
4179From the laundry room, he heard the freight elevator. It was stopping at the
4180fourth floor. He recognized the screech of the doors sliding open. He looked
4181into the hallway but ducked back into the laundry room just as he caught a
4182glimpse of the man stepping out. A huge man in a blue uniform. Patrick's
4183stomach did a flip as he pressed himself against the inside wall, hidden
4184partially by the racks of folded towels, and held his breath.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
4185He didn't think he could fool the security guard named Frank a second time
4186tonight.<br class="calibre9"/><br class="calibre9"/></p>
4187
4188<p class="calibre10"><a name="ch48"></a><strong class="calibre7">CHAPTER</strong><b class="calibre7"><br class="calibre6"/><strong class="calibre7">48</strong></b></p>
4189
4190<p class="MsoNormal1">Maggie hadn't gotten far and
4191her phone started to ring. She didn't recognize the number. The area code was
4192local. Could Patrick be calling from a pay phone? Or perhaps a friend's?<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
4193"This is Maggie O'Dell."<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
4194Silence.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
4195Then a man's gravelly voice said, "Special Agent Margaret O'Dell?"<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
4196That was what the television reports had called her. She shifted her weight,
4197crossed her arms, exhaustion giving way to alarm. It was someone who had seen
4198her infamous chase. Someone who could access her unlisted cell phone number.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
4199"Who is this?" she asked, none too politely.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
4200"I have some information about the incident…at the mall. What happened
4201there."<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
4202The caller sounded out of breath, fatigued, hesitant. Maggie guessed from his
4203voice that he was older than the college-aged young men the news media said
4204were responsible for the "incident."<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
4205"Are you saying you saw what happened?"<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
4206"No."<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
4207"But you were at the mall."<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
4208"No…no, I wasn't there." He was getting frustrated. She needed to
4209wait. People revealed more during silences than after questions. "I know
4210things."<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
4211Silence again.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
4212"I'm listening," she finally said when she thought she might lose him.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
4213"I have information. That's all that you need to know right now." He
4214was almost angry and definitely frustrated, physically exhausted. "Look,
4215my wife just had surgery. I'm a little tired," he said, not an apology,
4216Maggie thought, so much as a way to calm himself down. "I'll tell you
4217everything I know. Only you. Nobody else. You're the agent that saved that boy,
4218right?"<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
4219Before she answered, he continued, "But you have to come to me. You have
4220to come to where I say, so I know they won't be listening."<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
4221"Okay," Maggie told him. Did he really have information? Or was he a
4222conspiracy theory nut, trying to hone in on some attention for himself? And how
4223did he get her cell phone number?<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
4224"They have my grandson," he burst out without prompting. "That's
4225where the bastards crossed the line."<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
4226She knew asking him who "they" were would get her nowhere. He
4227wouldn't even give his name. He told her exactly where he wanted them to meet.
4228She had no problems with the locale or his laundry list of instructions, though
4229she wasn't sure how she would pull it off. Definitely not with A.D. Kunze's
4230help. But by the time the man had hung up Maggie realized she knew the one
4231person who could make this happen. She started searching for the governor's
4232right-hand man.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
4233She found David Ceimo in the restaurant's kitchen, his cell phone pressed so
4234hard against his face there was a red indentation on his cheek.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
4235"I want to know where they got this information. Anonymous doesn't cut
4236it," he yelled over the clanging of pots and pans. "I don't care.
4237Find out."<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
4238Ceimo shrugged and attempted a smile when he saw her. She leaned against a
4239steel rack to let the chef squeeze between them.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
4240"Any luck?"<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
4241"The photos were e-mailed anonymously to someone at the TV station."
4242He raked a flap of his thick brown hair off his forehead only to have it fall
4243back. His fingers made a second unsuccessful swipe. "They claim two
4244sources confirmed."<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
4245"Sources close to the investigation?"<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
4246"Not from what I'm hearing. Just 'two independent sources.'" And he
4247air-marked the quotes. "How did we get to this place where our news media
4248only sensationalizes the news instead of reports it?"<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
4249They had to move out of the way again while a waiter tried to remove a tray
4250from the refrigerator. The kitchen, though spotless, had little room for any
4251extra personnel. Maggie moved to the other side of a narrow, long table, what
4252looked like the kitchen's more extensive version of that evening's dessert
4253tray.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
4254"I just received an interesting phone call," she told him, glancing
4255down at the tiramisu and cheesecake that came between them. "With an
4256interesting request."<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
4257Ceimo's eyes narrowed on her. He was better at blocking out the kitchen
4258activity. Maggie's training kept her eyes darting around, looking for anything
4259and trying to catch everything. Her stomach, however, kept reminding her that
4260they hadn't had a chance to eat, drawing her eyes down to the desserts.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
4261"And this request?" Ceimo was impatient.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
4262"The caller claims he has information."<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
4263"What kind of information?"<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
4264"He'll only share it in person. And only with me."<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
4265"He saw you on TV," Ceimo said, surprising her. There was more to the
4266governor's aide than she expected. Nick Morrelli had introduced David Ceimo as
4267an old football rival. His good looks and charm—not unlike Nick's—had made her
4268misjudge his intellect, just as she caught herself doing with Nick.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
4269"What if he's just some wacko?"<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
4270"Wackos are my specialty," she said and started giving him the
4271details.<br class="calibre9"/><br class="calibre9"/></p>
4272
4273<p class="calibre10"><a name="ch49"></a><strong class="calibre7">CHAPTER</strong><b class="calibre7"><br class="calibre6"/><strong class="calibre7">49</strong></b></p>
4274
4275<p class="MsoNormal1">Nick wished he could find an
4276excuse to stay in Ceimo's SUV and tag along with him and Maggie. The two were
4277obviously on some secret mission. He found himself a little jealous. That was
4278ridiculous. Of course, he knew it was. Maggie asked Ceimo only because of his
4279connections. Nick wondered if it had something to do with her stepbrother. He
4280wanted to ask. Would have asked, but once again, he ended up in the wrong
4281place, sandwiched between Yarden and Jamie in the back of the SUV.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
4282"Let me know if there's anything I can do," he managed to say just as
4283Ceimo dumped them out in front of the hotel.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
4284Nick followed Yarden and Jamie down a hallway back to the command center. It
4285hadn't been that long ago that they had left. Charlie Wurth was still here and
4286Kunze had returned.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
4287Nick poured himself a cup of coffee and was dumping cream into it when Kunze
4288said to him, "Wurth said O'Dell was with you."<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
4289"She was."<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
4290Kunze glanced at the door again.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
4291"She went somewhere with Mr. Ceimo," Yarden offered.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
4292"Where exactly did they go?"<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
4293"They didn't say." Nick shrugged, sipped his coffee.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
4294Kunze grumbled under his breath, digging his cell phone out of his jacket
4295pocket. He stomped across the room, punching in numbers just as Deputy Director
4296Charlie Wurth asked everyone to take a seat.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
4297Wurth started writing on a huge white dry-erase board at the front of the room.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
4298"Here's what we know so far about these guys. We haven't had much time to
4299dig. Everything's still coming in. Feel free to chime in if you've got
4300questions or information to add. No need for formalities."<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
4301On the dry-erase board under POI (persons of interest) he listed the names of
4302the three young men the news media had released:<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
4303CHAD HENDRICKS, age 19, St. Paul, Minnesota<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
4304TYLER BENNETT, age 19, St. Paul, Minnesota<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
4305PATRICK MURPHY, age 23, Green Bay, Wisconsin.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
4306He drew a bracket that connected Chad and Tyler, then jotted, "roommates
4307at UnivM."<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
4308"We have two agents with a search warrant on their way to the dorm room
4309these two men shared on campus. It looks like they also went to the same
4310elementary school and high school."<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
4311A.D. Kunze passed out copies with all three of the young men's photos. He
4312stopped at Nick and Yarden's table.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
4313"Can the surveillance video verify these three were the ones with the red
4314backpacks?"<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
4315Both Nick and Yarden took a closer look. Nick didn't like being put on the
4316spot. Neither did Yarden.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
4317"You saw the quality of the shots we had. It's tough to tell," Nick
4318said. "Hendricks for sure." He pointed at Chad's photo. It was a head
4319shot. Probably from a sports roster. He was definitely the kid in the Golden Gopher
4320ball cap. They had looked at that video enough times to safely identify him.
4321Yarden was doing his bobble-headed nod.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
4322"This one could be Bennett." He tapped Tyler's photo. "But
4323Patrick Murphy…I don't think we have good enough video to identify him."
4324He wanted to get back to the surveillance room, back to the video. If he looked
4325a bit harder he wondered if he would recognize the man Maggie said was her
4326stepbrother.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
4327"Definitely Hendricks and Bennett," Yarden said, sounding confident.
4328He wasn't just backing Nick up. Yarden may be timid but he was good at his job.
4329"We couldn't get a good look at the third bomber or the two people he had
4330with him. They all disappeared into the food court."<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
4331"What do you mean disappeared?" A.D. Kunze asked.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
4332"The food court doesn't have any cameras."<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
4333"None?"<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
4334"No, sir."<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
4335Nick stopped himself from defending the antiquated security system that
4336originally had been designed to track shoplifters, not terrorists.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
4337"Mall security doesn't extend to that area," Yarden started to
4338explain but Charlie Wurth stopped him.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
4339"We never expected our shopping centers to be targets for terrorist
4340attacks," Wurth said. "Same reason mall security officers are not
4341armed. There are changes that are long overdue."<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
4342"Interesting that the TV station didn't have the girl's photo," Nick
4343said.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
4344He had everyone's attention now. Even A.D. Kunze stood quietly.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
4345"So what does that mean?" Charlie Wurth asked.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
4346"Could mean that whoever leaked those photos to the media didn't know the
4347girl ended up with one of the bombs." A.D. Kunze crossed his arms over his
4348chest. "At least it wasn't anyone from our group. Let's make sure it stays
4349that way."<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
4350"Is there any evidence that the bombers died with the backpacks?"
4351Wurth asked Jamie.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
4352"Preliminary says yes to two of the three. The restroom bomb didn't appear
4353to have human remains mixed with it."<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
4354"You can tell that?" Nick couldn't imagine what it must be like to
4355sift through and determine that conclusion.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
4356"Without getting into the gory details—" Jamie must have read his
4357mind "—yes, we can."<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
4358"So there's a chance that three of the five escaped?" A.D. Kunze said
4359it like it was an outrage.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
4360"Don't forget the asshole with the remote," Wurth reminded them.
4361"He got away, too. I'd place all my bets on him being the one who leaked
4362the photos to the media."<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
4363A knock at the door stopped Wurth. Everyone twisted around to the door at the
4364back of the room. Kunze was closest. Instead of just opening it and letting the
4365intruder in, he stepped out. In seconds he was back. No one had moved, taking
4366their cue from Wurth who waited.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
4367"Morrelli, Yarden." Kunze waved them over.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
4368He didn't give them any hints. He escorted them out the door without another
4369word. On his way out to join them, he waved a hand at Wurth to continue.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
4370Kunze led them to a couple waiting off to the side. The man wore a long
4371cashmere overcoat. The woman's was leather, no less expensive.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
4372Jerry Yarden seemed to recognize them before Kunze began the introductions. His
4373ears were red again, his eyes wide. Neither a good sign.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
4374"The Chapmans arrived while you both were out. I asked them to stop back.
4375Mr. and Mrs. Chapman, this is Nick Morrelli and Jerry Yarden from UAS, United
4376Allied Security. The Chapmans are the majority owners of Mall of America."<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
4377Nick relaxed. The well-dressed couple probably just wanted to give them
4378commendations. He didn't realize how wrong he was until Mrs. Chapman furrowed
4379her brow and said, "What in the world went wrong?"<br class="calibre9"/><br class="calibre9"/></p>
4380
4381<p class="calibre10"><a name="ch50"></a><strong class="calibre7">CHAPTER</strong><b class="calibre7"><br class="calibre6"/><strong class="calibre7">50</strong></b></p>
4382
4383<p class="MsoNormal1">Rebecca should have trusted her
4384gut instinct.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
4385Even before she got into Dixon's car she knew something wasn't quite right. He
4386didn't turn to look at her directly, and instead, kept the left side of his
4387face out of her sight. Yet if she had seen his black eye she still would have
4388gotten into the car. She would have been concerned and would've wanted to hear
4389what had happened.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
4390No, it wasn't that he wouldn't look her in the eyes. It was something else. A
4391tension, a fear so palpable she had felt it.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
4392However, her gut instinct could never have predicted a gunman crouched in the
4393backseat. Nor would she have predicted that the woman from the van, the one who
4394had called her Becky and offered her a ride, would be slamming her face down
4395into the snow and binding her wrists with plastic ties.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
4396Now all alone in what felt like a dark, cold hole with the smell of gasoline
4397all around her, Rebecca's mind raced. Who were these people? Why were they
4398doing this? Had Dixon been involved in the mall bombing? Was Patrick? What did
4399they want with her? She didn't know anything. She hadn't seen anything.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
4400Her eyes started to adjust to the darkness. It was a cellar or a crawl space.
4401Wood rafters for a ceiling that wasn't even four feet from the floor. Not
4402really a floor, just cold, hard concrete. The walls were concrete blocks. No
4403windows. One small three-foot-by-three-foot door above. A trapdoor with no
4404stairs. It didn't fit tight or in the rush, was left askew. Light from above
4405seeped in around the left side. They had flung her down and with her wrists
4406tied together she landed hard on her wounded arm. She felt a trickle of blood
4407and knew some of the sutures had ripped. The pain was secondary. Nothing could
4408override her fear.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
4409Up until now she had been with Dixon. They left his car in the long-term
4410parking lot at the airport. It had still been snowing. Rebecca searched for
4411signs of life, security vehicles, a shuttle bus, other motorists, passengers
4412returning to their vehicles. There was no one. Even if she dared to scream no
4413one would hear her.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
4414The woman in the van had followed close behind. It was there, in between the
4415vehicles of the parking lot, that the woman pulled Rebecca from the car and
4416pushed her down into the snow, binding her wrists so tight Rebecca felt the
4417plastic bite into her skin. They shoved Dixon and Rebecca into the back of the
4418van. The gunman crawled up beside them.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
4419Dixon wouldn't meet her eyes. He looked awful. His lip was split on the same
4420side as the black eye. His hair stuck up in places where it had been yanked. In
4421the headlights of passing traffic she saw that his coat had been ripped and his
4422jeans stained at the knees.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
4423She wanted to ask him what was going on. She wanted to make him look at her and
4424tell her whether he had anything to do with the bombing. But the panic had
4425closed off her throat. It took all her effort to breathe, to keep from
4426hyperventilating. Her arm throbbed.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
4427They had parked in a long narrow alley, some place downtown. Again, there was
4428no one to see them hustled from the van through the back entrance of a
4429building, a brick building four—maybe five—stories high with long, dark
4430corridors, institutional linoleum, blank sterile white walls. Rebecca tried to
4431notice everything. Isn't that what they did in the movies? Even blindfolded and
4432gagged they'd remember how many railroad tracks the car had bumped over or the
4433sound of water under a bridge. Noting and recording her surroundings made her
4434concentrate on something other than the pounding of her heart.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
4435Now she tried to do the same thing here, alone in the dark. It simmered her
4436panic.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
4437She could hear muffled voices. Thumping footsteps overhead. Not just footsteps.
4438It sounded like they were moving furniture. In the room above, she remembered
4439metal desks and rolling chairs, file cabinets and a shelf with electronic
4440boxes. There were several computers left on, their screen savers the only
4441illumination in the room when they first entered. Everything had looked new,
4442the walls a freshly painted white, plain and sterile like the corridors. Oddly
4443there had been nothing personal in the room. No coffee mugs, no jacket over a
4444chair, no container with pens, no plaques or pictures. It looked almost as if
4445someone had quickly put together a makeshift office that was meant to be
4446temporary.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
4447Her eyes stared at the trapdoor, first waiting for someone to reappear. As time
4448passed she still watched, wondering if the door wasn't closed properly and was
4449out of line to cause that sliver of light, then maybe it wasn't locked. Could
4450she shove it open? A bit of hope fluttered until she realized that with her
4451hands tied behind her back she'd never be able to push it open or climb out.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
4452She started looking around the musty area for something sharp to rub the
4453plastic tie against. There had to be something here. That's when she noticed
4454why the smell of gasoline was so strong. There were pools of it on the hard,
4455cold concrete floor. She must have fallen in it because now she could smell the
4456damp spots on her jeans and coat. Two cans marked gasoline sat on a shelf with
4457their caps off. But they were set upright, not tipped over.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
4458Rebecca realized this crawl space hadn't been splattered with gasoline by
4459accident. Someone intentionally poured it out all over the floor.<br class="calibre9"/><br class="calibre9"/></p>
4460
4461<p class="calibre10"><a name="ch51"></a><strong class="calibre7">CHAPTER</strong><b class="calibre7"><br class="calibre6"/><strong class="calibre7">51</strong></b></p>
4462
4463<p class="MsoNormal1"><i class="calibre8">Saint Mary's Hospital</i><br class="calibre6"/><i class="calibre8">Minneapolis, Minnesota</i><br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
4464Henry Lee wanted to continue pacing. He had been able to pace all he wanted
4465downstairs in the cafeteria, watching for the FBI agent while pretending to sip
4466coffee and burn off nervous energy. Not much of a ruse—he had been nervous,
4467anxious and angry. Pacing helped.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
4468Though disappointed, he felt a slight bit calmer back here, sitting at Hannah's
4469side, holding her hand and listening to the machines wheeze and hum. There were
4470still too many machines attached to her. But she was sleeping, resting,
4471breathing on her own, now that the tube had been removed from her throat.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
4472Henry glanced at his wristwatch. He had waited in the cafeteria ten minutes
4473longer than his own self-imposed deadline, though the whole time he had been
4474anxious to get back to Intensive Coronary Care. He shouldn't have been
4475surprised that the FBI agent didn't meet his request. She must have thought he
4476was some psycho and had passed on the message as a hoax.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
4477Probably just as well. The hospital cafeteria had been a bad idea. He hadn't
4478been thinking clearly. It was risky. They might be watching him. He couldn't
4479see them, couldn't pick them out, but he wondered if they were here. After all,
4480they must have taken Dixon from the hospital. If they had recognized the FBI
4481agent from the TV news clips and saw him talking to her, they would most
4482certainly kill Dixon.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
4483Henry wasn't sure what he'd do now. He had five hours before they would allow
4484him to talk to Dixon again. He had called his cell phone number anyway. It rang
4485five times before it clicked over and he heard his own voice ask if he wanted
4486to leave a message. He called it three more times. Each time it was the same.
4487That meant they had left the phone on, left it somewhere to ring, probably just
4488out of Dixon's reach, taunting him, reminding him who was in control.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
4489Henry was worried sick about the boy. He tried to keep from conjuring up images
4490of what they were doing to him. These were ruthless people who didn't mind
4491blowing up innocent women and children in a shopping mall. People who had an
4492agenda beyond what they were hired to do. He feared they would kill Dixon
4493whether Henry "behaved" or not.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
4494Maybe it was the fatigue, maybe it was sheer madness, maybe it was the
4495realization that he had nothing to lose. They could take the project and twist
4496it into their own selfish scheme, but by God, he would not allow them to take
4497his grandson down with them. They had crossed a line and for that, he'd send
4498them all to hell even if it meant he had to go along with them.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
4499A nurse had left when Henry returned to the room. He'd lost track of the
4500in-and-out traffic. Now a white-coated doctor came in, still gowned up from
4501surgery. Henry ignored them all unless they spoke to him first. He didn't want
4502them interrupting his thoughts.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
4503This doctor checked the machines, like all the others. Then she stood on the
4504other side of Hannah and did something that surprised Henry. The doctor took a
4505tissue from the side table and gently wiped a small line of drool that had
4506escaped down Hannah's chin.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
4507Henry raised his eyes to meet the doctor's.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
4508"Hello, Mr. Lee."<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
4509Henry simply nodded. At first he thought she was just another doctor, a polite
4510one taking time to introduce herself. But she held his eyes and little by
4511little he recognized her beyond the black square-framed eyeglasses and the hair
4512that was slicked back to accommodate the surgical cap. She looked smaller in
4513the scrubs, white coat and blue paper shoe covers, but she had donned the role
4514of doctor or surgeon with an air of grace and confidence that had fooled him.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
4515It was too late to hide his surprise or the sigh of relief.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
4516She'd come, after all.<br class="calibre9"/><br class="calibre9"/></p>
4517
4518<p class="calibre10"><a name="ch52"></a><strong class="calibre7">CHAPTER</strong><b class="calibre7"><br class="calibre6"/><strong class="calibre7">52</strong></b></p>
4519
4520<p class="MsoNormal1">"How did you find out my
4521name?" Henry Lee wanted to know, but Maggie could see he was pleased
4522rather than upset about it. "And how did you find me?"<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
4523"There's a consult room next door. Security key card entry only," she
4524told him in the same calm voice she might use had she really been one of his
4525wife's doctors, updating him, comforting him. "It's already been swept for
4526bugs. We have it for the next twenty minutes."<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
4527He stared at her as if she were speaking a foreign language and he needed an
4528interpreter. Finally he nodded. She waited while he tucked his wife's hand
4529under the covers. He had been holding it all this time and looked reluctant to
4530let go. Then he followed Maggie without further hesitation.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
4531"I'm sorry about your wife," Maggie told him as they settled into
4532comfortable chairs in the next room. "It sounds like she made it through
4533surgery quite well."<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
4534"That's what they keep telling me." He sounded like he didn't believe
4535them.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
4536She reminded herself that his wife's condition wasn't her concern, though she
4537admired his obvious devotion to her.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
4538In the short amount of time since his phone call, Maggie had learned quite a
4539bit about Henry Lee. With David Ceimo's connections as the governor's chief of
4540staff, he had been able to track the anonymous phone call to Maggie's cell
4541phone. The call had come from a waiting room in Saint Mary's Hospital's ICC.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
4542In their brief conversation the caller had let it slip that his wife had just
4543had surgery. On the day after Thanksgiving, there were no planned surgeries.
4544Maggie had been able to find out that there were, in fact, only two emergency
4545surgeries. One, an appendectomy. The other, a triple bypass. Another quick
4546phone call to ICC—this one a bit of a finagle—and Maggie was able to get the
4547patient's name. From there she discovered her anonymous caller's name. While
4548David Ceimo took care of getting her hospital credentials and security
4549clearance, Maggie searched everything she could find about Henry Lee by using
4550her smartphone's Internet connection.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
4551Turned out the man had an outstanding reputation as a business mogul, taking
4552several companies and building them into national Fortune 500 successes. Now
4553retired and remaining chairman of his empire, he used his clout to lobby for
4554homeland security measures. He was far from the wacko she had expected.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
4555"I'll only tell you what I know if I'm promised immunity from
4556prosecution." He said it like it was something he had memorized, perhaps
4557rehearsed. There was none of his earlier passion in this request.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
4558"I don't have the authority to make that promise."<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
4559In the past A.D. Cunningham had backed her up with any deals she believed
4560necessary. She was pretty sure A.D. Kunze would not.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
4561"I can assure you that I'll talk to the authorities about your
4562cooperation," she told him, "but that's as much as I can
4563promise."<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
4564He studied her with tired and hooded, watery blue eyes. She could see him
4565evaluating his options. She waited while his eyes left hers, darted down to his
4566wringing hands then back to hers.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
4567"They have my grandson," he said and cleared his throat, an
4568unsuccessful attempt to hide the hitch in his voice. "Will you at least
4569try to get him back?"<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
4570"I'll do everything in my power to try to get him back."<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
4571Then Maggie sat forward and waited, not wanting to throw out questions that
4572might limit the information he gave.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
4573"I'm a patriot," he chose to open with.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
4574It surprised Maggie, but she kept from showing it. One of the companies Henry
4575Lee owned was a security provider. From the brief background search, she had
4576expected to come here and get information from him that might involve some
4577breach of security or perhaps a failure to report a warning.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
4578What Maggie O'Dell didn't expect was a confession.<br class="calibre9"/><br class="calibre9"/></p>
4579
4580<p class="calibre10"><a name="ch53"></a><strong class="calibre7">CHAPTER</strong><b class="calibre7"><br class="calibre6"/><strong class="calibre7">53</strong></b></p>
4581
4582<p class="MsoNormal1">Nick stood at Jerry Yarden's
4583side as Yarden gave his long-winded and animated version of what security had
4584done to try and foil the attack. The Chapmans nodded, thin-lipped and
4585unblinking. Nick was relieved when his cell phone started ringing.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
4586"Sorry, I've got to take this call," he told them, excusing himself
4587and escaping down the hall without even looking to see who was calling.
4588"This is Nick Morrelli," he said with just a hint of importance mixed
4589with a dab of irritation for the Chapmans' benefit.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
4590"Finally. I can't believe you answered."<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
4591It was his sister, Christine. True enough, he had ignored her previous calls
4592and not returned any of her messages. He hadn't been ready to divulge any
4593details that he suspected the news reporter in her would be wagering for.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
4594"Yeah, sorry. It's been crazy here."<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
4595He glanced back down the hall. The Chapmans had forgotten him already and were
4596focused on poor Jerry. Nick took another hallway, searching for somewhere a bit
4597quieter.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
4598"We've been watching," Christine said. "It's hard to imagine. I
4599can't even pretend to know what it must be like to be there in the middle of
4600it."<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
4601He found a small, empty room off the elevators and ducked inside. Stacked,
4602dirty coffee cups filled a table. Folding chairs were left in no particular
4603pattern. Nick sat down in one against the wall.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
4604"The director of security and I were just getting our asses chewed by a
4605couple of the owners of the mall."<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
4606"You're kidding. What did they think could have been done?"<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
4607Nick heard the interest in Christine's voice and immediately hoped he wasn't
4608sorry he had told her that.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
4609"It's kind of late," he said, glancing at his watch and wanting to
4610prevent any follow-up questions. "Is everything okay?"<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
4611"I didn't want to add to your stress, but I knew you'd want us to call
4612you." He didn't like the change in her voice. "We had to have Dad
4613taken by ambulance to Lakeside Hospital's emergency room."<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
4614Nick shot out of the chair, gripping the phone tight against his ear.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
4615"Is he okay?" He found himself bracing one hand against the wall.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
4616"They've got him stabilized."<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
4617"What happened?"<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
4618"Mom noticed his breathing was more…I guess raspy. That's how she
4619described it." There was a long pause. "Nick, I don't think she's
4620gonna be able to take care of him from here on out. It's getting harder and
4621harder."<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
4622He needed to sit back down. Found the chair again.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
4623"Okay," he offered as his best gesture of agreement. "What are
4624you thinking?"<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
4625He'd never been in on these conversations. It had always been Christine and his
4626mom making the decisions regarding his dad's care. He had been off in Boston,
46271300 miles away, up until several months ago when he moved back to Omaha. Now
4628he realized how lucky he had been all those years, and he couldn't help but
4629wonder why Christine decided to foist this on him this time?<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
4630That wasn't fair. He knew that wasn't fair. But he was exhausted, overwhelmed
4631and 400 miles from home. What could he do about it?<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
4632"You know she won't agree to moving him anywhere outside of home,"
4633Christine said. "But she's being stubborn about having some outside help.
4634She keeps saying Dad doesn't want some stranger helping him pee. It's
4635ridiculous."<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
4636He glanced around the room. He wanted to ask her why all of this needed to be
4637decided right now? He was safe, stabilized, she had told him. Christine was
4638always worrying about things before they happened.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
4639"How long will they keep him in the hospital?"<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
4640"His doctor wants to run some tests. Probably through the weekend."<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
4641"Can we talk about it when I get home?"<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
4642Silence. Had it been the wrong thing to say?<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
4643"Sure, that's fine," she finally said.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
4644Nick recognized that tone. It meant waiting was anything but fine. Passive
4645aggressive. Wasn't that what they called it. Both of them had the symptoms.
4646Number one on the list was "hates confrontation."<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
4647"It's just that I'm a little overwhelmed right this minute," he tried
4648to explain and knew it sounded lame as soon as it escaped his mouth.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
4649"I just wanted to talk to you about it, Nick." She was upset but
4650doing her best to keep it from her voice. "I'm fully aware that when it
4651comes time to actually fix it, that I'll be the one doing it by myself."<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
4652He didn't know what to say. He felt like she had slugged him in the gut. He
4653felt like an asshole.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
4654"I've gotta go," she said and he heard the click before he could
4655respond.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
4656He closed his eyes and leaned his head back against the wall. He wasn't good at
4657this family stuff. That's why they'd never asked him before. But if Christine
4658knew that, why was she expecting something different from him? Why now?<br class="calibre9"/><br class="calibre9"/></p>
4659
4660<p class="calibre10"><a name="ch54"></a><strong class="calibre7">CHAPTER</strong><b class="calibre7"><br class="calibre6"/><strong class="calibre7">54</strong></b></p>
4661
4662<p class="MsoNormal1">Maggie tried not to interrupt
4663Henry Lee. She refrained from crossing her arms or any other nonverbal gestures
4664that might stop him. Her psychology background had taught her to listen without
4665giving any indication of prejudice. Sometimes an impassive listener gathered
4666more valuable information than a seasoned interrogator. Human nature dictated
4667certain behaviors, like filling in long silences or attempting to please a
4668receptive listener.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
4669"My daughter, Dixon's mother, was one of the 168 people who were murdered
4670on April 19, 1995. Four thousand eight hundred pounds of ammonium nitrate and
4671jet fuel driven right up to the front of the Alfred P. Murrah Federal Building
4672in Oklahoma City."<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
4673There was still enough emotion to cause the blue eyes to go watery, again. He
4674took an irritated swipe at them and continued, "I didn't believe it could
4675happen. Thought we'd never allow it again. But we Americans have short
4676attention spans. We become complacent. Six years later, 9/11."<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
4677He sat back, sat forward, couldn't get comfortable. Didn't seem to know what to
4678do with his hands.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
4679Maggie waited out his silence and his fidgeting.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
4680"We've become complacent again," he told her. "This was meant to
4681be a wake-up call. This administration keeps tearing down our policies on terror,
4682weakening our security systems. They're leaving us vulnerable for another
4683attack. And mark my word, there will be another attack." The anger was
4684creeping back into his voice.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
4685"It'll be some major sporting event or in one of our shopping centers or
4686an airport. They've broken down the barriers we worked so hard to build.
4687Closing down Gitmo. It's crazy. Treating those monsters to three square meals
4688while all they want to do is get back out there and slaughter innocent
4689Americans."<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
4690"Thirty-two innocent Americans were killed today." She couldn't help
4691it. She didn't want to listen to his diatribe and let him believe her silence
4692might excuse, condone or possibly understand it.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
4693"Dear God, thirty-two?" He covered his face with trembling hands.
4694"That wasn't supposed to happen," he said through his fingers as they
4695rubbed at his disbelief. "I swear to you, that wasn't supposed to
4696happen."<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
4697"What exactly was supposed to happen, Mr. Lee?"<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
4698"A disruption. That's all." He shook his head and sat forward, hands
4699wringing. "Our group…and it's an influential group of high-level,
4700upstanding individuals…"<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
4701"Citizens for American Pride?"<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
4702He let out a breath, something that sounded between a snort and a chuckle.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
4703"CAP? It's a smokescreen, a distraction. That organization has nothing to
4704do with this."<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
4705"Then I don't understand, what group are you talking about?"<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
4706"No one knows about us. We've managed to keep it secret for almost fifteen
4707years. We've influenced business contracts—billions of dollars—making sure that
4708American companies are awarded. We've manipulated government policy. Nothing
4709different than what lobbyists do, only we have members who are…let's just say,
4710a bit closer to actually making government policy."<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
4711"Are you saying members of Congress are a part of this secret group?"<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
4712He shrugged and she knew he was monitoring what he told her, perhaps deciding
4713as he went along.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
4714"We're not thugs," he said. "That's all I'm saying. Sometimes
4715our methods may have seemed a bit unconventional. We did what we felt was
4716necessary to influence, to persuade, to keep America on track. Yes, we pushed
4717the envelope. But no innocent lives were lost. I promise you that."<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
4718Now he glanced around the room as if checking to see if it was, indeed, secure.
4719"This was meant as a wake-up. The devices—electronic jamming devices—were
4720supposed to be in those backpacks. They were designed specifically to disrupt
4721computer and satellite feeds. I helped create them myself. It was supposed to
4722be a virtual electronic blackout, appropriately timed to occur on what the
4723retail world calls 'Black Friday.' A day of substantial profits would be turned
4724upside down to show how easily a terrorist could walk in and do the same, maybe
4725worse."<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
4726"You certainly proved the worse part."<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
4727Maggie bit down on her lower lip. Calm, steady, impassive—she could do this
4728without injecting emotion. She kept from balling her hands into fists, willed
4729her feet to stay planted when she wanted to pace.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
4730"You're right. Someone certainly proved it. Someone with his own agenda.
4731Those boys didn't have anything to do with this."<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
4732"You know the boys involved?"<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
4733"They were friends of my grandson. Chad, Tyler and Dixon got hoodwinked
4734into carrying those backpacks. And Patrick—they shouldn't even have his
4735picture. He didn't have anything to do with this. Patrick and Becca just went
4736to the mall to be with Dixon."<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
4737"You know Patrick Murphy?"<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
4738"Patrick and Becca celebrated Thanksgiving at my home yesterday, spent the
4739last two nights with us. They go to University of New Haven with Dixon. Came
4740from Connecticut all together. Drove two days. Good kids. Good, decent
4741kids."<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
4742He was shaking his head and didn't notice Maggie swallowing hard.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
4743Patrick had been telling the truth. He didn't have anything to do with the
4744bombing. She shouldn't have been so hard on him, should have trusted him
4745instead of asking him to trust her. Now she was sitting with the man who
4746Patrick had spent Thanksgiving with and he seemed to know more about her
4747brother's character than she did. Suddenly her stomach did a flip as she
4748realized something.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
4749"Was Patrick with Dixon when he was taken?"<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
4750"No, neither was Becca."<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
4751The relief was hard to contain but Henry Lee didn't seem to notice as he stared
4752at his hands again.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
4753"Dixon said he left the backpack with them. Are Patrick and Becca
4754alive?"<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
4755Maggie saw the realization in his eyes. He hadn't thought of it until now, that
4756Dixon's friends may have been killed in the blast.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
4757"Patrick is alive. I don't know about Becca."<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
4758Henry Lee shook his head. "Dixon was here at the hospital with me,"
4759he told her. "I was so relieved that he was safe. Then those bastards took
4760him from here. That's how I know they must be watching."<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
4761He stopped, took a couple of deep breaths to steer himself away from the anger.
4762"Dixon was worried about his friends. He borrowed my smartphone. He was
4763talking to them." He paused and squinted, looking for the right term.
4764"Texting them, making sure they were okay. That's how those bastards are
4765making me keep in touch, controlling how I keep in touch. With my own goddamn
4766phone."<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
4767"Who exactly are <i class="calibre8">they</i>, Mr. Lee? Who is it that has your grandson,
4768who switched bombs with jamming devices?"<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
4769"The one in charge calls himself the Project Manager." He looked
4770away. Took several more deep breaths as if steeling himself for what came next.
4771"And he's getting ready to make another attack on Sunday."<br class="calibre9"/><br class="calibre9"/></p>
4772
4773<p class="calibre10"><a name="ch55"></a><strong class="calibre7">CHAPTER</strong><b class="calibre7"><br class="calibre6"/><strong class="calibre7">55</strong></b></p>
4774
4775<p class="MsoNormal1">Just Patrick's luck. Looked
4776like security guard Frank used this laundry room as his break room.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
4777Patrick climbed into and folded himself inside one of the large commercial
4778dryers, barely clicking the door shut before the giant sauntered in. He pressed
4779himself against the metal drum, hoping anything that showed through the round
4780window would only look like a pile of clothes waiting to be sorted. He could
4781see just a sliver of Frank and what looked like a three-day supply of vending
4782machine snacks. The security guard sat down at one of the tables, popped a can
4783of soda, ripped open a bag of chips and propped up a paperback novel.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
4784Great. A nice, long break.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
4785Patrick tried to ignore the cramp in his legs. One leg twisted up under the
4786other. He'd better get used to it. Frank was settling in. The dryer next door
4787rattled and vibrated with the towels and his clothes, thumping his own
4788high-tops against the back of Patrick's head. He might get away with some
4789movement. The sound would get lost in the hum of the other dryer, but he
4790couldn't chance setting his own creaking or whining.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
4791Then he remembered his cell phone. He hadn't shut it off. He hoped Becca
4792wouldn't choose now to call him. Or Maggie.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
4793It reminded him that Becca hadn't called him. He couldn't call her. He didn't
4794have Dixon's phone number. But she had his number. Why hadn't she called? Now
4795that she was safe with Dixon, why wasn't she at least checking to make sure he
4796was okay? When she escaped from the triage area had she intended to escape from
4797him, too?<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
4798The thumping already gave him a headache. He chanced another peek. Frank had
4799barely made a dent in his junk food stash.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
4800Patrick's leg cramped, and he gritted his teeth against the pain. He leaned
4801back, tried to stretch. The metal drum groaned and he froze. He braced himself
4802and tried to listen over the vibration of the next-door dryer. No footsteps. He
4803didn't see a chunk of blue uniform. Maybe the groan had sounded louder inside
4804than outside.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
4805This was crazy. All through high school and college he worked hard, kept to
4806himself, tried to do the right thing, stayed out of trouble. Didn't date,
4807didn't do drugs, didn't binge drink, didn't go looking for a fight. Or at least
4808he didn't make a habit out of any one of those things. It'd been hard enough
4809taking care of himself. Paying for college. Making enough extra money to eat,
4810buy gas for his car and pay the rent. How the hell did he end up with his
4811picture plastered all over the network and cable news? How did he end up alone,
4812on the run? In a fucking dryer?<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
4813He closed his eyes and clenched his jaw against the thumping. It was exhausting
4814having only yourself to depend on. He thought maybe Becca had felt the same
4815way. He didn't want to admit how disappointed he was that she left without a
4816word to him, that she didn't call or text. If he admitted that he was
4817disappointed then he'd have to admit that she mattered. He had trusted that she
4818was his friend. Didn't friends look out for each other?<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
4819Maggie said he needed to trust her.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
4820He remembered when she called and invited him to her home for Thanksgiving. She
4821offered to pay for his flight or train ticket. Said he could spend the weekend
4822if he wanted. She had a big house with a huge backyard. She was anxious to
4823introduce him to her white Lab, Harvey. In the last two years since they'd
4824discovered each other, Patrick could count on one hand the times they had seen
4825or talked to each other. He didn't know this woman who was trying to suddenly
4826be his big sister.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
4827Then it occurred to him that she, at least, was trying. What had he done? Not
4828much of anything.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
4829From what little he knew about Maggie, he realized she had worked hard to get
4830where she was, working her way through college, earning a forensic fellowship
4831at Quantico. And it sounded like her life hadn't been much easier than his
4832after their father died. She had only hinted about her mother's alcoholism, but
4833Patrick had worked in Champs long enough to recognize the difference between
4834someone who chose to stay away from alcohol and someone who had to stay away.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
4835The first time he met Maggie she had come to Champs in the hope of seeing him
4836when he was working. Only she had no idea what he looked like. He remembered
4837watching this lady sitting by the bar as she glanced around like she was
4838searching for someone. It was a college bar. She looked out of place. Not
4839because she was older but because she was too classy for Champs. Then to make
4840matters worse—to prove even further that she didn't belong—she ordered a Diet
4841Pepsi.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
4842The memory brought a smile just as the next-door dryer came to a sudden stop.
4843No more vibration. No more thumping.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
4844Patrick stayed pressed against the drum, not daring to move. The quiet was
4845worse than the thumping. He risked a glance, moving only his head and keeping
4846the drum from groaning again. The table was empty. No snack food, no paperback
4847novel.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
4848He craned his neck. No Frank. Was it possible he was gone?<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
4849Patrick dared to eased himself up on his elbows, creaking the drum just enough
4850so he could see the rest of the room. Empty. Finally he could get out. If only
4851he could twist himself out of this pretzel.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
4852He pushed the door of the dryer. It didn't open. He put his shoulder to it and
4853began to shove his weight against it.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
4854The door didn't budge.<br class="calibre9"/><br class="calibre9"/></p>
4855
4856<p class="calibre10"><a name="ch56"></a><strong class="calibre7">CHAPTER</strong><b class="calibre7"><br class="calibre6"/><strong class="calibre7">56</strong></b></p>
4857
4858<p class="MsoNormal1">Henry could tell the FBI agent
4859didn't like him. Despite the compassion she'd shown earlier with Hannah, it was
4860obvious she was having a difficult time listening to his reason for any of
4861this. He didn't care. If he took into account what others thought of him he'd
4862never have built the business empire he had today.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
4863This agent, this young woman looked half his age. What did she know about
4864making decisions that would change the world? He didn't give a crap whether or
4865not she liked him. She could judge him all she wanted. The only thing he cared
4866about now was that she helped him get Dixon back. Nothing else mattered.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
4867"Where is the next attack supposed to take place?" she asked.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
4868He could tell that her patience was wearing thin. She didn't realize it but he
4869had caught plenty in her eyes, read the brief flickers of emotion she thought
4870she could conceal. Henry had hired and fired more people than this woman had
4871probably met in her young life. He saw that she wasn't just getting impatient,
4872she was anxious, exhausted, cautious, suspicious. Not only did she not like
4873him, she didn't trust him.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
4874"I don't know the exact location," he told her. His hands no longer
4875trembled. A good sign. He didn't like not being in control.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
4876She raised an eyebrow. It was the first facial expression she had allowed.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
4877"Sunday is the second busiest travel day of the year," he explained.
4878"It'll be an airport. But I honestly don't know which one. We provided a
4879list, but the choice was left to the Project Manager."<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
4880"Why an airport? I thought the jamming devices were designed to cause a
4881commotion in the retail industry? Stall the computers? Play havoc with their
4882profits."<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
4883"No, no you don't understand." He shook his head. He thought he had
4884been clear. "This isn't about money. This is about keeping America safe.
4885Keep terrorists from striking us again. This administration has destroyed all
4886the safeguards we worked so hard to put into effect. What better place and time
4887to remind Americans than a mall on the busiest shopping day of the year.
4888Likewise, an airport on the second busiest travel day, stalling travelers
4889returning home."<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
4890"Did you know it would be Mall of America?"<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
4891"Yes, of course. It's the largest mall in America."<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
4892"Then why don't you know which airport?"<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
4893He nodded. She was smart. But she still didn't quite understand.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
4894"The largest mall in America made sense, no question about it. But if we
4895knew which airport, we might give it away or incriminate ourselves."<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
4896"You're going to give me the list." It wasn't a question.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
4897He hesitated then reminded himself it didn't matter. It was a small exchange
4898for Dixon's life.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
4899"Of course. I don't have it memorized. I'll need to e-mail it to
4900you."<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
4901She pulled out her smartphone.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
4902"You'll e-mail it to me before I leave."<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
4903Maybe he had done his own misjudging of her as well. She was sharp,
4904quick…gutsy.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
4905"So tell me about this man who calls himself the Project Manager,"
4906she prompted him.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
4907"I wasn't the one who hired him," he told her.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
4908"He was hired?"<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
4909Another slip of emotion. He could see it, though subtle, it was there in her
4910eyes. Surprise? No, Henry thought it was more a flicker of disgust.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
4911"None of us met him. He made certain we had no idea who he was, what he
4912looked like, where he'd come from."<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
4913"Why did you believe you could trust him?"<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
4914Henry shrugged. Good question.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
4915"He came to us highly recommended by someone we trusted."<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
4916"Are you telling me this man you hired to upset retail business and stall
4917air travel, has his own agenda?"<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
4918"Either he has his own agenda or he's following orders from someone in our
4919group. Someone who believes we need bombs rather than jamming devices to wake
4920up America." Somehow he couldn't bring himself to tell her that the group
4921he defended and vowed to protect had gone a step too far, ignoring his
4922warnings, betraying years of integrity and honor in exchange for what? Power?
4923Greed?<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
4924"You realize I could take you in for questioning," she told him.
4925"I could make you tell us who that someone is."<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
4926"I know my rights, Agent O'Dell, and I employ some of the best attorneys
4927in the country. I'd clam up and you'd have nothing. You need this information
4928and I want my grandson back alive."<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
4929Her earlier sympathy had diminished.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
4930"If you want your grandson back you'll need to tell me something. I don't
4931know if you're aware of this but Chad Hendricks and Tyler Bennett are
4932dead."<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
4933He winced, closed his eyes. He had suspected as much.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
4934"Their backpacks blew up while on their backs, detonated from outside the
4935mall." Her voice had gained an edge to it. "They were just walking
4936around the mall, thinking they'd cause some commotion—according to you—by
4937jamming a few computers, holding up some lines of shoppers, irritating those
4938greedy retail owners. They had no idea they'd be blown into pieces."<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
4939His eyes met hers and he watched her carefully put away the anger, pretending
4940the emotion was a tool of her interrogation practice.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
4941"It's okay," he said. "It doesn't matter to me if you enjoy
4942taking swipes at me."<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
4943That surprised her. He could see she wanted to cross her arms but stopped
4944herself. She flexed the fingers of one hand, no doubt preventing them from
4945balling up into a fist.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
4946"Think whatever you must about me," he continued. "I deserve it.
4947But my grandson doesn't deserve to pay for any of my mistakes."<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
4948"Let's get back to the Project Manager, Mr. Lee. There has to be some
4949information you can give me about him."<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
4950"There is one thing. Though I don't know if it means much. He referred to
4951himself as John Doe #2. I was told he said it as if it were a resumé
4952enhancer."<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
4953"I'm not sure I understand."<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
4954"My daughter was killed in the bombing in Oklahoma City. The Project
4955Manager knew more about all of us than we knew about him. I figured it was some
4956twisted reference to the alleged third terrorist. For my benefit, perhaps.
4957Remember, they referred to him as John Doe #2? Maybe he said it because it was
4958true."<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
4959"Are you suggesting the man you hired as the Project Manager <i class="calibre8">is</i>
4960John Doe #2 from the Oklahoma City bombing?"<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
4961Henry shrugged.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
4962"That he even existed was mere speculation, rumor at best."<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
4963Henry noticed that Agent O'Dell looked like she was already considering it,
4964wondering if, indeed, John Doe #2 may have been real after all.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
4965"That's all I know," he said. "Did you want me to download that
4966list for you?" He pointed to the smartphone in her hand.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
4967She stared at him a second or two, the information taking time to sink in. He
4968wondered if she had any idea how much of a risk he was taking by telling her
4969any of this.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
4970"So we have a deal?" he asked, waiting for her eyes to meet his.
4971"You'll get my grandson back from this bastard?"<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
4972He knew there wasn't anything else she could say. She simply nodded.<br class="calibre9"/><br class="calibre9"/></p>
4973
4974<p class="calibre10"><a name="ch57"></a><strong class="calibre7">CHAPTER</strong><b class="calibre7"><br class="calibre6"/><strong class="calibre7">57</strong></b></p>
4975
4976<p class="MsoNormal1"><i class="calibre8">Saturday, November 24</i><br class="calibre6"/><i class="calibre8">McCarran International Airport</i><br class="calibre6"/><i class="calibre8">Las Vegas, Nevada</i><br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
4977Asante didn't want to waste any more time, but he waited behind three other
4978first-class passengers. He couldn't be the first to deboard the plane. Being
4979first would be noticed by the flight attendants as too anxious. Being first
4980would be out of the ordinary.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
4981Most of the passengers—even those who looked ready to hit the casinos' gambling
4982floors—were exhausted because of the long delay. Asante tried to blend in with
4983them though he had no intention of stepping foot in a casino. Not on this trip.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
4984Las Vegas had been an excellent choice, especially with the unexpected delay.
4985Most airports closed down after midnight. Not Las Vegas. It was just as noisy
4986at this hour as any other time of day. Even before he came up out of the
4987gateway he heard the clicks and pings of slot machines. Asante glanced at them
4988and wanted to shake his head. They filled the middle area of the terminal. The
4989majority of the machines were in play by passengers waiting for their flights
4990and needing to extend their addiction for as long as possible.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
4991He shouldered his way through the crowds and started following the signs for
4992baggage claim. He adjusted the duffel bag as he turned on his headset, already
4993planted on top of his ear. Then he punched the keypad on his phone. The call connected
4994in seconds.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
4995"Good flight?" the woman's voice asked in place of a greeting.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
4996"A bit delayed but I'm back on track."<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
4997"Becky is enjoying her reunion with her college buddy."<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
4998Again, they kept the conversation like a husband and wife checking in with each
4999other. He had trained them well, keeping it minimal and never mentioning full
5000names or using a name as traceable as Dixon.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
5001"Good. And what about our friend, Hank? How is he?"<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
5002"He's staying put. Seems to be behaving."<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
5003"Glad to hear that. So are we ready to clean house tomorrow?"<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
5004"Can't wait," she said with a laugh.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
5005A nice added touch, Asante thought.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
5006"In fact," she continued, "we're making the final
5007preparations."<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
5008"Call if there are problems. I'll talk to you later."<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
5009He found the escalator for baggage claim and got on with a dozen others.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
5010Glitches, he smiled to himself. That was the thing about glitches—they could be
5011fixed, rerouted or simply deleted.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
5012At the bottom of the escalator while everyone else headed for the luggage
5013carousels, Asante went the other direction to a small room off to the side.
5014There, a row of foot lockers lined each wall. He found #83 and expertly
5015fingered the combination padlock. One twist left, two twists to the right and
5016it slid open.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
5017Inside the locker, taped to the inside door was a sealed, plain manila envelope
5018with more cash than he'd need. Stacked one on top of another was a twenty-six
5019inch Pullman and its twin, both black canvas, their corners sufficiently
5020scuffed to look like they belonged to a seasoned traveler. He took the two
5021Pullmans out and dropped the duffel bag on top of one. Then he plucked off the
5022envelope, tucking it into one of the bag's side pockets. Finished, he hung his
5023coat in the locker, closed the door and replaced the padlock.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
5024Now all that was left was finding a ride.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
5025He headed for the exits. The warm air hit him in the face. What a difference a
5026few hours and a thousand miles made. Despite going from one extreme to another
5027and despite already breaking a sweat, the warmth felt good.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
5028He started looking for the shuttle buses. He'd catch the next one going to
5029long-term parking. At this time of night he was certain he'd be able to pick
5030out the vehicle of his choice.<br class="calibre9"/><br class="calibre9"/></p>
5031
5032<p class="calibre10"><a name="ch58"></a><strong class="calibre7">CHAPTER</strong><b class="calibre7"><br class="calibre6"/><strong class="calibre7">58</strong></b></p>
5033
5034<p class="MsoNormal1"><i class="calibre8">Saint Mary's Hospital</i><br class="calibre6"/><i class="calibre8">Minneapolis, Minnesota</i><br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
5035Still in scrubs, Maggie climbed into Ceimo's SUV. He'd been waiting in the
5036emergency room parking lot, at the emergency room entrance, the only way to
5037enter or leave the hospital after midnight. Thankfully he had the vehicle's
5038heater turned up. She reached over and clicked the button for her seat to heat
5039up, too. It'd take more than this, however, to get rid of the chill that Henry
5040Lee had left her with.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
5041Before she had time to get comfortable Ceimo told her, "Kunze and Wurth
5042have called. I had to tell him we were following up on a lead. But that's all I
5043told them."<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
5044She nodded, grateful.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
5045She had confessed to David Ceimo as soon as she asked for his help that she
5046wouldn't be telling anyone else but him, not until after she had talked to
5047Henry Lee. She knew A.D. Kunze wouldn't have allowed her to go. This was one of
5048those times she would have to ask for forgiveness rather than permission.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
5049Yes, she bent the rules every once in a while, but not without caution. At
5050least, she had learned that lesson. Okay, so her version of "caution"
5051didn't always coincide with her superiors'. There was a time or two that even
5052Cunningham had not been pleased with her. When lives are concerned and time is
5053ticking away, following the rules just to be following the rules, didn't make
5054sense. A.D. Kunze wouldn't agree. That's why earlier, as soon as Maggie had
5055entered the hospital, she turned off her phone, clicking it on temporarily only
5056for Henry Lee to download the list.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
5057"So," Ceimo asked. "Were you able to find out anything at
5058all?"<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
5059"Sunday," she said. "There's another attack planned on
5060Sunday."<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
5061"Sunday as in this Sunday? As in tomorrow?"<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
5062She glanced at the vehicle's green-lighted dials and searched for the clock.
5063She'd lost track of time. Of course, he was right. It was already Saturday
5064morning. They had less than twenty-four hours.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
5065"Yes, the Sunday after Thanksgiving, the second busiest day for airline
5066travel."<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
5067"Son of a bitch."<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
5068"I have a list of possible airports. Seven of them. We don't know which
5069one's been targeted."<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
5070"Minneapolis?"<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
5071"Not on the list."<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
5072She heard him let out a sigh of relief.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
5073"Sorry," he said, catching himself.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
5074"No need to apologize."<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
5075She watched out the side window. Snow covered everything: bus stop benches,
5076light poles, newspaper dispensers. The wind swirled it around and made it dance
5077in the headlights. The white lights on trees already decorated for the
5078holidays, twinkled on frosted branches. It looked like a winter wonderland.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
5079"What can I do?" He wanted to know.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
5080She chose carefully what to ask for and even more carefully what to tell David
5081Ceimo, deciding it was best to leave any speculation out. She gave him as many
5082facts and details as she could about Dixon Lee's abduction. That was the
5083promise she would need help in delivering, though at the moment it seemed
5084impossible with the little information they had.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
5085Ceimo assured her that the governor would be willing to do whatever was
5086necessary. Henry Lee and his empire of Fortune 500 businesses were important to
5087the state of Minnesota. They employed over 6,000 people and brought in
5088irreplaceable state tax revenues. Ceimo agreed that they'd need to work quickly
5089and secretly. The fewer people involved the better chances they had to find
5090Dixon Lee still alive.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
5091However, she mentioned nothing to Ceimo about the outrageous supposition that
5092the Project Manager, the man responsible for the mall bombing, could be the
5093infamous John Doe #2, the so-called third terrorist who was rumored to have
5094assisted—or according to some conspiracy theorists, guided—Timothy McVeigh and
5095Terry Nichols in the Oklahoma City bombing. The idea was crazy. Or was it?<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
5096By the time Ceimo dropped Maggie off at the hotel, the crowds had dissipated.
5097This time when she took a detour for her ice and Diet Pepsi, there were,
5098thankfully, no lines to elbow and nudge her way through. Several blue-blazered
5099hotel clerks smiled at her. One told her where there were still some
5100refreshments. Another asked if there was anything else they could do for her.
5101It wasn't until she got into the elevators and caught a glance of herself in
5102the mirrored walls that she realized why they had paid so much attention to
5103her. She was still in hospital scrubs and the white lab coat.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
5104This time she tried to block out the Christmas music that followed her from the
5105elevator to her room. There was nothing soothing about chestnuts roasting on an
5106open fire. She was exhausted. Her bruised side ached where the Sudanese boy had
5107shoved her against a car grill. Her stomach reminded her it was still empty.
5108And her shoulders felt a tremendous new weight, a burden put there by Henry
5109Lee's revelation.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
5110As soon as she got inside her room she popped the Diet Pepsi open and began
5111sipping. Then she pulled out her phone and started dialing what would be the
5112first of several calls.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
5113She steeled herself. It was time to call A.D. Kunze and Charlie Wurth. She'd
5114need to tell them everything. Earlier she'd made a judgment call to not ask for
5115Kunze's permission but now it was time to ask forgiveness.<br class="calibre9"/><br class="calibre9"/></p>
5116
5117<p class="calibre10"><a name="ch59"></a><strong class="calibre7">CHAPTER</strong><b class="calibre7"><br class="calibre6"/><strong class="calibre7">59</strong></b></p>
5118
5119<p class="MsoNormal1">Patrick struggled to breathe.
5120There were ventilation traps in these things, weren't there? He was sure of it.
5121There had to be. He told himself it wasn't like being underwater or stuffed in
5122an airtight compartment. He couldn't suck up all the air. There'd be enough. He
5123needed to settle down. He needed to just breathe.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
5124He told himself that firefighters oftentimes found themselves in tight
5125squeezes. Didn't they? What had he read? What had they taught him in any of his
5126Fire Science classes? Could he access some information, some advice, some
5127trick? Some "what if" you're caught without your pickax? Pickax? He
5128didn't even have a screwdriver.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
5129Who was he fooling? No professional firefighter would climb inside a commercial
5130dryer and shut the door.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
5131Sweat trickled down his back and down his face. He had to constantly wipe it
5132out of his eyes. The overalls stuck to him. It was crazy hot inside the dryer.
5133How long had it been? It felt like hours, but he knew that it hadn't been long.
5134Twenty minutes? Forty? Maybe an hour.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
5135He'd exhausted himself with the initial panic. His shoulder ached where he had
5136slammed it over and over against the immovable door. The only thing that
5137stopped him from yelling for help was explaining to Frank's meaty face why he
5138was stuck in a dryer.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
5139He concentrated on peeling and plucking out the rubber seal around the door.
5140The last piece, finally. Only it didn't make a difference. Not even a slight
5141bit looser. The sucker still wouldn't budge. Now his fingertips hurt from
5142squeezing them between the metal, hoping to bend or pry open the door. His
5143injured palm hadn't started bleeding again but it was throbbing. He was running
5144out of ideas. And eventually out of air, despite his theory about the vents.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
5145Okay, so this was bad but at least it wasn't a freezer.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
5146That first time he'd met Maggie she was working a case in Connecticut. The
5147killer ended up making national headlines—a psycho who cut the diseased body
5148parts from his victims, collecting his specimens in Mason jars then stuffing
5149the bodies in fifty-five-gallon drums hidden in an abandoned rock quarry. The guy
5150managed to throw Maggie into a chest freezer and left her there to die. By the
5151time anyone found her, hypothermia had set in. Hypothermia so bad the doctors
5152had to drain all her blood out of her body, warm it up and put it back in.
5153Amazing what they could do. Amazing that she had survived. Actually Maggie was
5154pretty amazing. Why was he only now realizing that?<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
5155Back then she had been a total stranger to Patrick. He felt bad for her but not
5156much else. Still, he came to see her, sat at her hospital bed a few times and
5157kept her company. But what else could he do? Besides, that fall he had plenty
5158of other things that required his attention.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
5159After that, he and Maggie had gotten together for lunch or dinner a few times.
5160He liked hearing the stories about their dad, but, like Maggie, Thomas O'Dell
5161was a stranger to Patrick, too. There was nothing tangible to connect to. No
5162memories. No photos. Nothing handed down. Patrick didn't even get the man's
5163surname.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
5164To make matters worse, his mother told him the subject of his father was
5165"off limits." She wouldn't discuss it and insisted he respect her
5166wishes. She said she knew she could count on him to not make this issue a problem.
5167How could she not see that refusing to talk about "the subject,"
5168"this issue," actually prevented Patrick from knowing about <i class="calibre8">himself?</i>
5169As a result, he had opted to spend Thanksgiving with friends who thought they
5170knew him so well they could leave him to fend on his own, instead of spending
5171the holiday with family who didn't know him at all.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
5172They all thought he was the mature, independent twenty-three-year-old who could
5173handle anything and everything thrown his way because he'd taken care of
5174himself so well for so long. Maybe he was sick and tired of taking care of
5175himself. Maybe he wanted to lean on someone else for a change.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
5176The heat continued to soar inside the dryer. He laid his head back against the
5177drum. Not exactly the right time to count on someone else. If everyone thought
5178he was so capable then certainly he should be able to get the fuck out of this
5179dryer. Maybe he just needed to sit back and look at things differently.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
5180He couldn't remember where the hinges were. What side? Had there been a handle
5181that he had to pull up on? He'd been in such a panic he just climbed in and
5182swung the door closed behind him. Was it possible he was knocking his shoulder
5183against the hinged side?<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
5184Maybe he needed to take a different approach.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
5185Patrick twisted and turned his body, making the metal drum whine. He slid and
5186shoved himself so that his back leaned against the back of the dryer. His knees
5187splayed out to each side of him in order for him to plant his bare feet on the
5188door. He didn't care if he broke the round glass and cut his feet. He needed to
5189breathe. He needed out of here. He pulled back his legs and kicked both heels
5190against the door as hard as he could.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
5191The door popped open.<br class="calibre9"/><br class="calibre9"/></p>
5192
5193<p class="calibre10"><a name="ch60"></a><strong class="calibre7">CHAPTER</strong><b class="calibre7"><br class="calibre6"/><strong class="calibre7">60</strong></b></p>
5194
5195<p class="MsoNormal1">Nick had been punching buttons
5196back in the video surveillance room, trying to follow the sequence Jerry Yarden
5197had taught him, when he got Maggie's call. Moments earlier he'd finally
5198convinced Yarden to go home, be with his family, get some rest, although Nick
5199imagined home for Yarden was a small studio apartment and his family probably a
5200cat, maybe two cats. He tried to hide his surprise when Yarden—humble but
5201proud—opened his wallet to show Nick his family: a beautiful brunette, three
5202handsome boys and a small white fluff-ball of a dog on his wife's lap. Nick
5203hadn't even been right about the cat.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
5204"You sure you'll be okay?" Yarden's parting words, accompanied by a
5205glance at the panel of keyboards and monitors. Nick wondered if Yarden worried
5206about leaving Nick alone or leaving his surveillance equipment alone with Nick.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
5207"I'll be fine. Go hug your wife and kids, Jerry. You did good, real good.
5208If I need you, I'll call."<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
5209Nick had been feeling like there wasn't much more he could do. He was exhausted
5210but he avoided going to his hotel room. Before he arrived in Minnesota he'd
5211reserved a room at the same hotel that was now the command center, but he
5212hadn't had a chance to get back there and even open his suitcase. He kept
5213checking his watch. He had called his boss, Al Banoff, to give him an update.
5214It was too late, or rather too early in the morning, to call Christine and
5215check on his father.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
5216So instead of his hotel room, Nick had gone back to the mall. He went back to
5217the video surveillance room and started cueing up video segment after segment
5218of the third bomber. He had the image of Patrick Murphy stamped into his mind
5219now and he wanted to see if the third bomber, or the bomber's friend, could be
5220Murphy. But in all the segments they had found, as soon as the two young men
5221and woman got off the escalators onto the third floor, they disappeared into
5222the food court and disappeared out of surveillance range.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
5223Then Maggie called.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
5224Okay, it was silly but he felt a new surge of adrenaline just hearing her
5225voice. Having her ask for his help was a bonus. Inviting him to her hotel
5226room…It was a case, he reprimanded himself. They were working a case—a
5227horrendous, sad, scary case. So why did his heart start pounding a little
5228faster? Why did the gusts of wind that bit and pulled at his coattail not chill
5229him? As he entered the hotel lobby, after walking all the way from the mall, he
5230stripped off his leather gloves to find his palms sweating. He actually had
5231sweaty palms. It was ridiculous. He was ridiculous.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
5232He stopped at his own room to pick up his laptop computer, the one request
5233Maggie had made of him. Once in his room, he shed his coat, took one look at
5234himself in the mirror and continued to pull off his shoes and socks, trousers,
5235shirt and tie. He would be a few minutes late, but he needed something to
5236revive him. He needed a shower.<br class="calibre9"/><br class="calibre9"/></p>
5237
5238<p class="calibre10"><a name="ch61"></a><strong class="calibre7">CHAPTER</strong><b class="calibre7"><br class="calibre6"/><strong class="calibre7">61</strong></b></p>
5239
5240<p class="MsoNormal1">Henry Lee stared at the wall
5241clock in the ICC waiting room. He'd been here for a good fifteen minutes,
5242watching the hands of the clock crawl. The wait strained his already frayed
5243nerves. Just five more minutes and he could make his next call to Dixon.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
5244Someone had left the Saturday <i class="calibre8">Tribune</i> on the unmanned and empty
5245registration desk. Headlines and colored photos of the bombing dominated the
5246front page. He didn't want to see any of it. Couldn't even look at it.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
5247He tried to keep still. He'd bitten half his fingernails to the quick—just like
5248his grandson. It had been an old habit he thought he'd replaced with single
5249malt Scotch, but he hadn't been able to have a drink since Thanksgiving. Now
5250here it was Saturday morning.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
5251In twenty-four hours there'd be another attack.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
5252He shook his head. No one could stop the attack. He didn't have much faith that
5253Special Agent Margaret O'Dell would be able to do anything. Maybe warn the
5254airports and Homeland Security. He'd done his part, done what he could.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
5255Henry wanted to believe that the young FBI agent would find a way to save Dixon
5256but deep down he knew he'd forced her to make a promise she had no way of
5257keeping. It'd be up to Henry to take control. If he expected to see Dixon again
5258he'd need to bargain with them this time. Put away his anger and negotiate a
5259deal.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
5260The people who had Dixon were hired mercenaries, minions of the Project
5261Manager. They could be bought. That's what he convinced himself. He didn't care
5262how much money they wanted, he'd get it. In his mind he'd already started
5263accessing accounts and determining which one had liquid assets. The holiday
5264weekend would make it tricky but not impossible.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/><i class="calibre8">Finally</i>. It was time. He could call.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
5265His hands resumed their annoying tremble, making it an effort to punch in the
5266correct numbers on the waiting room's desk phone.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
5267He counted the rings…three, four…They had to pick up. He'd waited the allotted
5268five hours they told him to wait. But instead of an answer there was a click
5269and his own voice instructed him to leave a message.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
5270"No." He slammed down the receiver.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
5271His cell phone was still on. It wouldn't ring five times if they'd shut it off
5272or if the battery had run down. Why would they ignore it? Besides, they had to
5273talk to him. How would they get any ransom if they didn't talk to him? Isn't
5274that what they wanted? Yes, they had to talk to him. It was in their best
5275interest to talk to him.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
5276He dialed again, punching in the numbers quickly as if he might trick his
5277fingers from shaking. He took a deep breath, ignored the acid backing up into
5278his throat. The phone rang and rang until yet another click, then, "This
5279is Henry Lee, please leave a message at the tone."<br class="calibre9"/><br class="calibre9"/></p>
5280
5281<p class="calibre10"><a name="ch62"></a><strong class="calibre7">CHAPTER</strong><b class="calibre7"><br class="calibre6"/><strong class="calibre7">62</strong></b></p>
5282
5283<p class="MsoNormal1">When Maggie opened her hotel
5284room door she had to stop herself from smiling. Nick Morrelli smelled as good
5285as he looked, fresh from a shower, his hair still wet and tousled. He hadn't
5286taken time to shave but the dark stubble only made him look more handsome, made
5287those damn charming dimples even more pronounced. He'd changed into blue jeans
5288and replaced his shirt and tie with a crew-neck sweater, baby blue that matched
5289his eyes and made them sparkle. Leave it to Morrelli, she couldn't help
5290thinking, to capitalize on every opportunity.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
5291Maggie was still dressed in the hospital scrubs. She hadn't taken time to
5292change. There was too much to do. No time to waste. Plus the cotton scrubs were
5293comfortable.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
5294"Room service shut down at one," she said as she led Nick into her
5295room. "But the front desk clerk brought up some leftovers."<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
5296She pointed at a tray with an assortment of fruit, cheeses and crackers on the
5297desk.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
5298"Help yourself," she told him as she grabbed a couple of grapes.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
5299"Wow, that was nice of them."<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
5300"It's amazing the service a doctor garners," she said, tugging on the
5301hem of the blue scrub top.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
5302"Very smart. I'll have to remember that. Dressing like a lawyer gets you
5303nothing free."<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
5304She smiled as she went back to her place in the corner where two wingback
5305chairs sat side by side, a floor lamp between them. She'd moved one of the
5306bedside tables in front of her chair where she could leave her laptop. Almost
5307everything else in the room remained the same. Her suitcase still lay on the
5308otherwise untouched bed.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
5309Nick loaded a paper plate with chunks of melon, grapes, strawberries, cubes of
5310cheese and a line of crackers. Maggie tried not to watch as he performed a
5311balancing act while he crossed the room to the other wingback chair. He glanced
5312at her with a sheepish smile.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
5313"I can't even remember the last time I ate," he said, sliding his
5314laptop case from under his arm to the cushion of the chair.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
5315Maggie made room on the table for him to set the plate down.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
5316"I know. We had to leave The Rose and Crown before we got a chance to
5317order."<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
5318"Yeah, where did you leave Ceimo, by the way?"<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
5319"He's off doing me a favor."<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
5320"Really?"<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
5321Maggie checked his eyes. She recognized that look. He was jealous. He noticed
5322that she could tell.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
5323"Any word on your brother?" he asked.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
5324Good change of subject. Mentioning the pub reminded Maggie of Patrick, too.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
5325"No. He's been ignoring my calls. Hopefully he's somewhere warm and
5326safe."<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
5327If Nick was expecting a longer explanation he didn't push for it.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
5328"So what's the game plan here?" he asked, pointing to her laptop as
5329he popped a cube of cheese into his mouth.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
5330She had told him very little over the phone except that an informant had given
5331her some information, she needed his help, and she wanted him to be a part of
5332the task force.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
5333"We have two hours before we meet with Kunze and Wurth downstairs. They're
5334already working on some details. In the meantime I'm plowing through some files
5335and court documents and I thought who better to give me a hand than an
5336attorney."<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
5337"Especially one you can ply with free food."<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
5338"Exactly."<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
5339He put his plate aside, moved his laptop and sat down in the chair next to her
5340where he could see what was on the computer screen.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
5341"You think this has something to do with the Oklahoma City bombing?"<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
5342"Not my idea. Someone else suggested it. In fact, the informant I met with
5343told me the mastermind of this bombing implied that he was John Doe #2. Absurd,
5344I know. Most likely he said it only for the effect, but I still have to check
5345it out. I'm looking for John Doe #2 suspects to see if anyone accused or
5346suspected could possibly be this bomber. How much do you know about the
5347Oklahoma City bombing?"<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
5348"I remember at the time being freaked out. There were rumors that McVeigh
5349had been scoping out the federal building in Omaha before he chose Oklahoma
5350City. Plus, Junction City, Kansas, is only a couple hundred miles from
5351Omaha."<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
5352"So you're familiar with some of the details." And she was pleased he
5353still remembered some of those details. Junction City, Kansas, was where
5354McVeigh and Nichols rented the Ryder truck they used to contain and transport
5355their mobile bomb.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
5356"I started teaching law at UNL the year before McVeigh's execution. The
5357whole thing made a good case study. The guy was a defense attorney's
5358nightmare."<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
5359"Because he admitted to planning and carrying out the plot?" Maggie
5360tapped her laptop's keyboard to bring up the document she'd just read.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
5361"His first attorney…Jones, I think. I can't recall his name," Nick
5362started then scratched at his jaw, trying to remember.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
5363"Stephen Jones."<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
5364"Jones claimed McVeigh wasn't being honest with him. He changed his story
5365even when they talked privately. Jones believed there were others involved. Not
5366just Terry Nichols."<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
5367"And McVeigh was protecting them?"<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
5368"Or McVeigh wanted his own role to be elevated. Sort of fit with the
5369notion that he wanted to be a martyr."<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
5370"No one's claiming to be a martyr here. In fact, no one's making any
5371claims for this one," Maggie said with a shrug. "I've been sorting
5372through file after file. If it is the same guy he didn't use the same M.O. I
5373can't find anything that's similar about this bombing and Oklahoma City. The
5374bombs alone were dramatically different. Four thousand eight hundred pounds of
5375ammonium nitrate and jet fuel stuffed into a Ryder rental truck is a huge
5376contrast to three backpacks."<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
5377She ran her fingers through her hair, resisting the urge to yank. This felt
5378like a waste of time. Henry Lee hadn't given her anything to go on.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
5379"Bomb-making technology's changed in…what is it? Fifteen years since
5380Oklahoma City? Maybe he didn't need a Ryder truck this time."<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
5381She looked over at Nick. He was right in a sense. Post 9/11, three backpacks
5382stuffed with explosives in the middle of a crowded mall would possibly be as
5383damaging to the American psyche as 4,800 pounds of ammonium nitrate and jet
5384fuel.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
5385"I have to tell you," Nick started again and paused. "I never
5386thought John Doe #2 was an absurd idea."<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
5387"Really?"<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
5388"Too many coincidences. I know eye witnesses are notoriously unreliable
5389but there were too many people who swore they saw someone with McVeigh. Someone
5390who didn't come close to fitting the description of Terry Nichols. Just a lot
5391of unanswered questions."<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
5392"I never would have pegged Nick Morrelli for a conspiracy theorist."<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
5393"If the case was so clear-cut why are you bothering to go through this
5394stuff? Why not dismiss what the guy said?"<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
5395She sat back and let out a frustrated sigh. Her eyes felt swollen, her wounded
5396side wouldn't stop aching.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
5397"Because I have nothing else. A.D. Kunze is doing a background check on
5398the informant. Wurth is looking to see if there've been warnings or bomb
5399threats at any of the airports. All the informant gave me was a warning.
5400Another attack. Tomorrow."<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
5401She let it sink in, watching Nick rub at his jaw like someone had punched him.
5402Yes, that was what it felt like. Being punched without warning.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
5403"He told me it'll be an airport," she continued, pulling herself back
5404to the front of the chair and clicking up the list Henry Lee had downloaded to
5405her e-mail address. She had gone over it at least a dozen times trying to find
5406some hidden clue as to why these seven were chosen and which one would be the
5407target.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
5408"He gave me a list," she told Nick, "but didn't give me a clue
5409as to which airport will be hit. Wurth is trying to warn all of them, but where
5410do we send extra reinforcements?"<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
5411She hadn't noticed that Nick had edged forward to get a closer look, his brow
5412furrowed, his arm leaning against her arm.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
5413"Where did you get this?"<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
5414"Why?"<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
5415"I've seen this list before. This exact list."<br class="calibre9"/><br class="calibre9"/></p>
5416
5417<p class="calibre10"><a name="ch63"></a><strong class="calibre7">CHAPTER</strong><b class="calibre7"><br class="calibre6"/><strong class="calibre7">63</strong></b></p>
5418
5419<p class="MsoNormal1">A thunderstorm of noise raged
5420above. Rebecca had no idea what her captors were doing. It sounded like claps
5421of thunder. She imagined sledgehammers against metal. Glass shattered. Heavy
5422objects banged against the floor, or what was her ceiling. She wouldn't have
5423been surprised to see something crashing through the wood rafters.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
5424She no longer cared what they were doing. As long as they stayed up there, they
5425wouldn't be hurting her. She had searched the entire crawl space, hunched over,
5426arms still twisted and tied behind her back. She tried to keep down the nausea
5427of fear. The overwhelming smell of gasoline burned her lungs and gagged her. It
5428brought on the dry heaves. Nothing in her stomach except acid. All she wanted
5429was something sharp—a left-behind tool, scissors, something jagged, anything—to
5430cut the plastic tie that bound her wrists together.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
5431There was nothing. The empty gas cans. Some shelves. A monstrosity of a furnace
5432rumbled in the corner. Rebecca stared at it. The huge metal box had rusted on
5433the bottom. Pipes going in and out of the contraption had been piecemealed
5434together. She looked closely for bolts or screws that might be protruding. Then
5435she found a bent piece of metal at one of the corners that made up the
5436furnace's storage cabinet. Someone had hammered it back into place but it still
5437stuck out, battered metal, the edges ragged…and sharp.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
5438Excitement dared to shove aside the nausea.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
5439The bent metal was a bit high. She'd need to do some maneuvering to back up to
5440it and raise her arms up. Pain shot through her wounded arm and Rebecca had to
5441stop. Had to sit down. She waited it out. Steadied her breath. Then she tried
5442again, slowly raising her arms up behind her. She'd have to bring her wrists
5443high enough to bring the plastic down onto the sharp metal corner. She could do
5444it but could she keep her arms raised for that long while she rubbed against
5445the jagged edge, using it like a serrated knife?<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
5446Just a little higher. She almost had it when all the noise from above came to a
5447sudden stop.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
5448She brought her arms down and waited, listening. Maybe they would start up
5449again. They might be taking a break. Or leaving. Could they be leaving? She
5450heard voices. Raised voices. An argument. Then the trapdoor started to creak
5451open.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
5452Rebecca scooted farther into the corner though she knew there wasn't anywhere
5453to hide. If she had only a few more minutes she could have cut her wrists free
5454and at least been able to defend herself. She'd kick this time, she decided.
5455And scream. She didn't care if no one heard her.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
5456The light from the open trapdoor had a bluish tint, not as glaring as she'd
5457expected but she still found herself squinting after being in the dim-lit crawl
5458space. She tried to slow her breathing so she could listen, but her heart
5459pounded in her ears.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
5460Someone was coming down. She could see shadows hovering over the opening. The
5461voices were louder but she couldn't make out the words. A scuffle, rubber soles
5462squeaking against linoleum, dragging or being dragged. Then without warning a
5463body tumbled down through the hole, thumping hard against the concrete.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
5464The trapdoor slammed shut and tight, this time closing off all light, but not
5465before Rebecca recognized the motionless body. It was Dixon.<br class="calibre9"/><br class="calibre9"/></p>
5466
5467<p class="calibre10"><a name="ch64"></a><strong class="calibre7">CHAPTER</strong><b class="calibre7"><br class="calibre6"/><strong class="calibre7">64</strong></b></p>
5468
5469<p class="MsoNormal1">Nick realized it was
5470silly—okay, even childish—but despite all the stress and urgency he still felt
5471disappointed. Maggie had called him to help, not because she needed a friend,
5472not because she wanted to lean on him, but only because he was a lawyer and
5473he'd be able to sort through the files and court documents quickly and
5474efficiently. Well, it seemed his help might pay off beyond her expectations.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
5475"You've seen this exact list of airports?" She sounded like she
5476didn't believe him.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
5477"Two weeks ago. UAS—United Allied Security sent me to a seminar on
5478terrorist attacks. It was part of my training for the new job position. Mostly
5479the basics—what to look for, how better to prepare and assist those facilities
5480where UAS provides security systems or equipment."<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
5481Nick had learned a lot at the seminar but he didn't like that it sounded like a
5482sales conference, even including a guide on how to convince clients to upgrade
5483their old systems. At the time, he thought some of the scenarios they presented
5484seemed a bit far-fetched and wondered if they were simply using scare tactics
5485to increase revenues and bonuses for UAS.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
5486"And you saw this list at your seminar?"<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
5487"It's a list of the airports being pitched upgrades."<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
5488"Being pitched what exactly?"<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
5489"At shopping malls UAS provides security personnel and equipment. All
5490airport security is now under TSA but our company—at least for those airports
5491under contract with us—maintains and replaces all the security equipment."<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
5492"Like the scanners?"<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
5493"Scanners, cameras, metal detectors, even the wands. But the pitch wasn't
5494only for upgrading current equipment. The plan called for a whole new security
5495package in the passenger arrival and departure areas."<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
5496She looked like she didn't understand.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
5497"Right now most airports don't have much security in the ticketing or
5498baggage claim areas. You don't see a camera until you get to the security
5499checkpoint area."<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
5500"We're protecting the passengers in the air but not on the ground,"
5501she said, nodding.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
5502"Exactly. UAS has been pushing for airports to have metal detectors and
5503cameras in those outside perimeter areas."<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
5504"Why were these seven chosen?"<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
5505"That, I don't know."<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
5506Maggie was pacing the length of the hotel room, a nervous habit Nick had
5507forgotten.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
5508"Where did <i class="calibre8">you</i> get the list?" he asked her, though he realized
5509she probably couldn't and wouldn't tell him.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
5510"Who owns United Allied Security?" she asked instead of answering.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
5511"I believe the holding company is HL Enterprises."<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
5512"As in Henry Lee Enterprises?" She stopped pacing to stare at him,
5513only it wasn't Nick she was seeing. Something had struck a chord.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
5514"Yeah, that's right. HL Enterprises already owns several companies that
5515are security related, one that produces the equipment, another one that designs
5516and builds structures. I think they took over UAS a couple of years ago. You
5517know how that works—Lee infused a truckload of cash in exchange for the
5518majority voting stock."<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
5519She started pacing again. This time Nick watched. He tried to piece together
5520where she was going with all this.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
5521"You think UAS is the target of this group?" Even as he asked it he
5522didn't think the idea made sense.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
5523Maggie didn't look like she discounted the idea. Instead, she stopped again.
5524This time she sat down next to him so she could look at the list she'd left
5525open on her computer screen. She turned and reached over to put her hand on his
5526arm. Waited for his eyes.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
5527"I asked for your help because I need someone I can trust to help figure
5528this out."<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
5529It took Nick off guard. He knew his face registered his surprise before he
5530could control it.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
5531"I don't trust A.D. Kunze. I had to tell him everything but I don't trust
5532what—if anything—he'll do with the information simply because it's coming from
5533me."<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
5534"What is it with that guy?"<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
5535"He blames Tully and me for Cunningham's death."<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
5536"That's ridiculous."<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
5537"Yes, it is, but he's interim director and he has the ability to make us
5538miserable. I think that's the only reason I'm here. He knew this would be an
5539impossible profiling assignment. I think he wanted me to fail. Even the parking
5540lot fiasco, I think he expected me to screw up. You saw those surveillance
5541videos. Very unlikely that we'd ID those young men from the videos or from any
5542profile I'd come up with. And here's the thing," she said, gripping his arm
5543now, "it didn't matter."<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
5544"What do you mean it didn't matter?"<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
5545"It didn't matter who the young men were that carried the backpacks. They
5546were incidentals. They were cutaways." There was an urgency in her eyes, a
5547frenetic pace to her words as if she was thinking out loud and Nick was simply
5548there to hear it.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
5549"Back in their dorm room they'll find Web sites in their computer caches
5550for how to make bombs," she continued. "They may even find traces of
5551bomb-making material. But no matter how much time and effort we put into
5552finding out who Chad Hendricks and Tyler Bennett were, or if Patrick was even
5553involved, none of it will matter. The cutaways won't lead us to who really did
5554this. They can't lead us, because they didn't know who planned this. They
5555didn't even know what was planned for them. There is no path because the
5556Project Manager didn't leave one. He took care of everything."<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
5557"Wait a minute. Who exactly is <i class="calibre8">the Project Manager?</i>"<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
5558"That's what I need your help in finding out. If I can't connect him to any
5559of the John Doe #2 suspects then I need to try and figure out where he's going
5560to attack next."<br class="calibre9"/><br class="calibre9"/></p>
5561
5562<p class="calibre10"><a name="ch65"></a><strong class="calibre7">CHAPTER</strong><b class="calibre7"><br class="calibre6"/><strong class="calibre7">65</strong></b></p>
5563
5564<p class="MsoNormal1">Maggie suggested they turn on
5565the TV. She wanted some background noise as long as that noise didn't include
5566news alerts or footage of her chase scene or interviews with neighbors who knew
5567Chad or Tyler. Nick handled the assignment by stopping at a channel that was
5568playing Christmas movies all weekend to celebrate the beginning of the holiday
5569season.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
5570"One of my favorites," he said, causing Maggie look up long enough to
5571identify Ralphie in <i class="calibre8">A Christmas Story</i>. Why was she not surprised that a
5572movie about a little boy wanting a Red Rider BB gun was Nick Morrelli's
5573favorite.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
5574They had an hour until they met Kunze and Wurth downstairs. Maggie still hoped
5575to find something, anything that might steer them in the right direction. While
5576she and Nick sifted through court documents and FBI files online she kept
5577trying to put some rhyme or reason to the Project Manager's choice of airport.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
5578Nick had made a good point about the impact of the attack. The number of
5579casualties may not be his priority. Was he more interested in the effect on the
5580American psyche? A crowded shopping center in the middle of the country the day
5581after Thanksgiving. That was something everyone could relate to, making it even
5582more frightening because of that. It wasn't a ritzy resort, a five-star hotel,
5583a nightclub or casino. A shopping center in the heartland struck at the very
5584heart of every single American who would be thinking, "<i class="calibre8">That could have
5585happened to me."</i><br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
5586Maggie brought up the list of airports on her computer screen, again. Was there
5587something equally telling in which airport the Project Manager had chosen? The
5588list—according to Henry Lee—hadn't been written in any order:<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/><i class="calibre8">McCarran International Airport, Las Vegas, Nevada</i><br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/><i class="calibre8">General Mitchell International Airport, Milwaukee, Wisconsin</i><br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/><i class="calibre8">Salt Lake City International Airport, Salt Lake City, Utah</i><br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/><i class="calibre8">Sky Harbor International Airport, Phoenix, Arizona</i><br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/><i class="calibre8">Cleveland-Hopkins International Airport, Cleveland, Ohio</i><br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/><i class="calibre8">Reagan Washington National Airport, Washington, D.C.</i><br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/><i class="calibre8">Detroit Metropolitan Wayne County Airport, Detroit, Michigan</i><br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
5589"Believe it or not, Las Vegas is the number one busiest airport for the
5590Thanksgiving weekend." Nick interrupted her thoughts, glancing over at her
5591computer screen.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
5592"Why doesn't that surprise me?"<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
5593"It'd be a pretty big impact."<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
5594She considered it then shook her head.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
5595"I don't think he chose Vegas."<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
5596"Gut instinct?" Nick asked.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
5597"Think about how you prefaced it with 'believe it or not.' It might be a
5598reality, but not everyone would relate to choosing a gambling casino over
5599Grandma's house for Thanksgiving. He's hoping the impact here is the idea that
5600it could happen to anyone."<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
5601Nick pointed the remote at the TV and muted Ralphie right before he got a
5602mouthful of Lava soap.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
5603"What about another Midwest hit? Could he be looking for someplace close?
5604Milwaukee's about a five-or six-hour drive. Detroit's a bit farther. Maybe ten
5605hours."<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
5606"Too difficult a drive in that snowstorm. My guess, he was at the airport
5607and gone before they were putting the wounded in ambulances."<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
5608"There were flight delays because of the snow," Nick said.
5609"Ceimo mentioned the state fire inspector was stuck in Chicago and
5610Yarden's supervisor was trying to get back from New Jersey."<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
5611"How much in advance was this storm predicted?"<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
5612Nick furrowed his brow, giving it serious thought.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
5613"They were talking about it early in the week," Nick told her.
5614"I only remember because I promised Christine I'd go with her to buy a
5615Christmas tree on Friday. I was hoping the storm would make her cancel."
5616He shrugged. "It's a good day for college football."<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
5617She nodded and smiled, remembering her own plans for Friday. Was that only
5618yesterday?<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
5619"Anyway, the storm ended up missing Omaha. Do you think he factored in the
5620snowstorm?"<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
5621Her turn to shrug.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
5622"I'm looking at a logical process of elimination. How many of these
5623airports are hubs for an airline?"<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
5624Nick leaned closer and took a look. Pointing with his index finger, he went
5625over the list, one by one.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
5626"Milwaukee is Midwest Airlines, Salt Lake City and Cleveland are Delta,
5627Sky Harbor is Southwest and US Airways. Detroit was a limited hub for
5628Northwest. Why? Are you thinking it might be a hub?"<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
5629"Actually I'm thinking the opposite. You said UAS has been trying to get
5630airports to upgrade the arrival and departure areas, right? At an airport that's
5631a hub aren't the majority of their passengers simply making a connecting
5632flight?"<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
5633She caught the glint in his eyes as he followed her logic.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
5634"So most passengers wouldn't be going through the ticketing area or
5635picking up baggage," she continued. "Not a big enough impact. And
5636Reagan National on the Sunday after a holiday will be a good deal of
5637politicians returning to Capitol Hill."<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
5638"You just eliminated every airport on the list."<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
5639"Both Las Vegas and Phoenix would be destination airports?" she
5640asked, thinking out loud and not really expecting an answer from Nick.
5641"Someplace where families would go for Thanksgiving for a treat to get
5642away. Maybe get out of the winter cold."<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
5643"I just remembered something," he said. "Airports depend on
5644state and federal revenues so we usually take that into consideration when
5645we're talking to them about upgrades. Phoenix is being considered for a chunk
5646of federal dollars. Something to do with Homeland Security. The city's number
5647two in the world, second only to Mexico City, for kidnappings."<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
5648Maggie remembered what Henry Lee said about his group influencing government
5649policies.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
5650"It has to be Phoenix."<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
5651She hugged him, excited, relieved. She kissed his cheek, but his lips found
5652hers. She let herself sink into him, maybe a moment too long. By the time she
5653pulled away she was out of breath.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
5654"Nick, this isn't a good idea. We're both exhausted."<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
5655"I'm not that exhausted."<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
5656He ran his hand over her shoulder, fingers caressing the back of her neck. His
5657other hand wrapped around her waist, gently nudging her back against him,
5658enough to show her he wasn't too exhausted. His lips brushed her neck, her
5659earlobe…maybe she wasn't too exhausted either.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
5660A knock at the door decided for them.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
5661"Damn. Can't we ignore it?" But he let her pull away.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
5662"Maybe it's housekeeping?"<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
5663"Too early," he said. "And room service doesn't begin until 6:00
5664a.m. I checked."<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
5665She crossed the room, instinctively reminding herself where she had left her
5666Smith &amp; Wesson.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
5667When she checked the peephole she had to do a double take. She was exhausted.
5668Was it possible her imagination was playing tricks on her?<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
5669She undid the locks and pulled the door wide open.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
5670"Hi," Patrick said, looking embarrassed and shy. His hair was
5671tousled, clothes wrinkled.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
5672"How in the world did you find me?" she asked him.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
5673"I used housekeeping's direct line to the front desk. 'Ms. O'Dell needs
5674more towels. What room is she in?'" He said it with a convincing Spanish
5675accent.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
5676She didn't say another word. Instead she followed her instinct this time and
5677simply hugged him.<br class="calibre9"/><br class="calibre9"/></p>
5678
5679<p class="calibre10"><a name="ch66"></a><strong class="calibre7">CHAPTER</strong><b class="calibre7"><br class="calibre6"/><strong class="calibre7">66</strong></b></p>
5680
5681<p class="MsoNormal1">Rebecca was sure Dixon was
5682dead.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
5683She couldn't see him in the dark. There was no sliver of light this time from
5684the sealed trapdoor. She listened for moans or breathing but heard only the
5685rumble of the furnace.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
5686She hunched over, paralyzed in the corner. With her hands bound behind her,
5687there was nothing she could do for him if he was alive and hurt.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
5688"Dixon?" she called for the second or third time. Her voice sounded
5689foreign to her, strained and small.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
5690There was no response.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
5691She searched in the dark and found the jagged metal on the corner of the
5692furnace. She stretched, made contact. It hurt to hold her arms at that high of
5693an angle. She hooked the plastic between her wrists onto the metal and started
5694rubbing it back and forth. Her wounded arm throbbed but she kept pulling and
5695sawing the plastic tie against the sharp edge. She had no idea if she was
5696making any progress.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
5697By now her eyes had adjusted to the dark. It wasn't pitch-black. She could make
5698out Dixon's body. Still no movement. She was too far away to see if he was
5699breathing. Her nerves were raw. Every little sound made her catch her breath,
5700stopping to listen. The silence above should have comforted her. Silence meant
5701no one would be coming down to hurt her like they had Dixon. Instead, it set
5702her on edge. Why would they just leave her to be found or to escape?<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
5703She kept sawing. God, her arm hurt. Her lungs felt on fire from the gasoline
5704fumes. She wanted to scream and shout. Get angry because it was better than
5705feeling afraid.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
5706"What the hell did you get us into, Dixon Lee?" she yelled.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
5707"Becca?"<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
5708She jumped, pulling her wrists down, and heard a pop. Her wrists were free.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
5709"Dixon?"<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
5710"Where are you?"<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
5711She could see him move, a shadowed bulk still lying on the concrete floor.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
5712"I'm here," she told him as she felt her way over to him. On closer
5713inspection she saw that his arms were bound behind him. He was struggling to
5714sit up, twisting and rocking.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
5715"Are you hurt?" she asked.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
5716"I'm okay. Sore. Maybe a bum ankle. How 'bout you? Are you okay?"<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
5717She touched his shoulder, startling him.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
5718"You got your wrists undone."<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
5719"We'll do yours, too. Let me just check and make sure nothing's
5720broken," she told him as she ran her fingers over his arms.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
5721"There's no time, Becca. We've got to get out of here."<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
5722He struggled to stand up and fell against her. She caught him by the waist as
5723he slid to his knees. Her fingers were wet and sticky.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
5724"Oh my God, Dixon, you're bleeding."<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
5725"Becca, we've got to get out. They've got the whole place rigged to
5726blow."<br class="calibre9"/><br class="calibre9"/></p>
5727
5728<p class="calibre10"><a name="ch67"></a><strong class="calibre7">CHAPTER</strong><b class="calibre7"><br class="calibre6"/><strong class="calibre7">67</strong></b></p>
5729
5730<p class="MsoNormal1">Maggie braced herself for A.D.
5731Kunze's reaction. From Patrick's initial telling she knew he might have
5732information that could be helpful. She just wasn't sure Kunze would see it that
5733way. Charlie Wurth saved her again. He called Chief Merrick and asked him to
5734send a police sketch artist instead of an arresting officer.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
5735"It might not do any good," she told them. "If the man Patrick
5736saw is the Project Manager he'll make sure that he looks different."<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
5737"I won't forget those eyes," Patrick said. "Or the way he
5738walked."<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
5739"Unfortunately, he can change both."<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
5740"He may not even be there if he uses another group of young people,"
5741Kunze reminded them.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
5742"I don't think he'll use cutaways this time," Maggie said, cautiously
5743watching for Kunze to disagree. He cocked his head to the side, encouraging her
5744to continue. "He doesn't have to go to the trouble. He's already set the
5745stage. Another bombing this soon. Everyone will be looking for young, white,
5746college-aged males."<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
5747It was just the five of them: Maggie, Patrick, Nick, Kunze and Wurth in the
5748room set aside for the investigators. Ceimo was scheduled to join them. The sun
5749was out today, streaming through the window, a welcome sight. Maggie couldn't
5750help but notice how beautiful the glittering snowy landscape was.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
5751"So what are you predicting he will do?" Wurth asked.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
5752When she turned away from the window and back to them, they were all watching
5753her, waiting.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
5754"The bomb expert," Wurth continued. "She said the detonator he
5755used was similar to the plans she saw for a dirty bomb. Should I be telling my
5756people that's what we might have here?"<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
5757Maggie crossed her arms over her chest. She had changed into trousers and a
5758knit sweater but left her matching blazer in her room. Now she wished she had
5759it. They were looking to her for instruction, for guidance. What if she was
5760wrong? Even Kunze was waiting for her to give them some direction.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
5761"I don't think it'll be a dirty bomb. He's looking for psychological
5762impact, not total carnage. He had the opportunity here at the mall. There could
5763have easily been hundreds killed." She stopped, expecting comments. There
5764were none. "My best guess is that it will be a suitcase bomb. He'll bring
5765it in himself and leave it somewhere in the crowded ticket area or in baggage
5766claim."<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
5767"If he puts it on a baggage carousel there's no way we'll find it in
5768time," Wurth said, shoving his shirtsleeves up. "Christ almighty,
5769this is not good."<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
5770"That's why we need to catch him as soon as he enters the airport."<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
5771"But you said yourself, he'll look different. Even if we have a
5772sketch," Kunze said.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
5773"I know I'll recognize him." Patrick startled all of them. They had
5774forgotten about him, waiting in the corner for the police sketch artist to
5775arrive. "Just put me someplace where I can watch."<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
5776"You're not going to Phoenix with us," Maggie said and immediately
5777regretted that she sounded like an overprotective big sister.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
5778She had already explained her rationale for Sky Harbor being the target. Wurth
5779hadn't disagreed with the logic, but said he was putting federal air marshals
5780in every airport on the list.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
5781"You said yourself," Patrick argued, "that he thinks he doesn't
5782need to use anyone else now because they'll be looking for young, white,
5783college guys. So maybe he won't walk differently. Maybe he won't need to disguise
5784himself. I'm telling you, I'll never forget those eyes."<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
5785"It couldn't hurt," Wurth said. "I say we bring the kid
5786along."<br class="calibre9"/><br class="calibre9"/></p>
5787
5788<p class="calibre10"><a name="ch68"></a><strong class="calibre7">CHAPTER</strong><b class="calibre7"><br class="calibre6"/><strong class="calibre7">68</strong></b></p>
5789
5790<p class="MsoNormal1">The trapdoor wouldn't move.
5791Rebecca tried to find something other than her hands to ram it with while Dixon
5792tried to saw his plastic tie. At least she had found a light switch, although
5793the single, low-wattage bulb set between the rafters lit only the area below
5794it.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
5795Dixon had told her not to worry about his bleeding. "Just a flesh
5796wound," he called it and Rebecca couldn't help thinking he sounded like
5797one of the heroes in the graphic novels he loved to read.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
5798"How do you know they rigged the place?"<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
5799"They told me. They laughed about it." He sounded out of breath.
5800"It was right after they let my granddad's phone ring and ring. They told
5801him if he called back at a certain time he'd get to talk to me again. But they
5802wouldn't let me answer. It was still ringing when they threw the phone up on
5803one of the shelves where I couldn't reach it."<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
5804He shook his head, then started sawing at the plastic again.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
5805Then Rebecca smelled something besides gasoline. It was seeping down from the
5806air vents.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
5807"Dixon. Do you smell that?"<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
5808He sniffed the air.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
5809"Holy crap," he said. "Smoke." He tried to saw faster.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
5810Rebecca banged on the trapdoor, using her battered hands. What if the fire was
5811already in the room above? They didn't have to rig a bomb. With all the spilled
5812gasoline, all they had to do was light a match. It'd explode once the flame
5813reached the fumes down here. It was hopeless.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
5814She heard Dixon's plastic snap. He rushed over to help her. That's when they
5815heard someone yelling above. Boots stomped. Wood cracked. Maybe they had
5816decided to come back and kill them before they left them to burn. Rebecca
5817crouched with Dixon in the corner.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
5818The trapdoor started to split and the metal point of an ax came through. The
5819smell of smoke was stronger. The voices louder. More boots thumping. A bright
5820light shined down as the last of the trapdoor came away.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
5821"Dixon Lee," someone shouted. "Are you down there?"<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
5822Rebecca held onto his arm as Dixon started to crawl forward. Above them,
5823surrounding the hole where the trapdoor had been, were three men in SWAT team
5824uniforms.<br class="calibre9"/><br class="calibre9"/></p>
5825
5826<p class="calibre10"><a name="ch69"></a><strong class="calibre7">CHAPTER</strong><b class="calibre7"><br class="calibre6"/><strong class="calibre7">69</strong></b></p>
5827
5828<p class="MsoNormal1">Nick almost didn't recognize David
5829Ceimo. He came into the hotel conference room wearing a leather bomber jacket
5830and aviator sunglasses pushed up on top of his thick mass of hair. And he was
5831smiling.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
5832Patrick had just finished with the police sketch artist, who didn't really
5833sketch but manipulated the bomber's face on a computer screen, using a special
5834computer program. Wurth had been on the phone nonstop, using one of the hotel's
5835landlines instead of his cell phone. Kunze and Maggie pored over more files.
5836Everyone, however, stopped what they were doing when Ceimo walked into the
5837room.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
5838"Just got the call. We have him," he said directly to Maggie.
5839"He's alive and safe."<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
5840"Thank God."<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
5841Nick glanced around. Seemed Maggie was the only one who knew what Ceimo was
5842talking about.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
5843"Some of the bomber's cohorts kidnapped Henry Lee's grandson earlier
5844today," Ceimo explained.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
5845"Dixon?" Patrick shot up. "Becca was with Dixon."<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
5846"She's still with him. She's safe," Ceimo told him. "They had
5847them locked up in the basement of a vacant office building. They must have been
5848using it as a makeshift command center. Had computers, cables, wireless
5849equipment—the works."<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
5850"Was there anything left behind that might tell us where the next attack
5851is planned?" Wurth asked.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
5852"Everything was smashed. The kid—Dixon, said they had portable drives on
5853the computers that they bagged up and took with them. The basement reeked with
5854gasoline. They started a small fire in one of the hallways. Probably expected
5855the whole place to blow up. And it would have had the SWAT team gotten there a
5856few minutes later."<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
5857Nick watched Maggie. She wasn't surprised by any of what Ceimo was telling
5858them. This must have been the favor she'd asked of him.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
5859"How did you know where they were?" Nick asked.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
5860He noticed the look Ceimo and Maggie exchanged before Ceimo answered, as if he
5861were getting permission.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
5862"Dixon had his grandfather's cell phone. The kidnappers left it on for Mr.
5863Lee to call. We were able to track their location by using the cell phone's
5864internal GPS signal."<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
5865"Son of a bitch," Kunze muttered.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
5866"Outsmarted the assholes," Ceimo said with that same smile that he
5867had on his face when he came into the room. "They thought they had Mr. Lee
5868under their thumb, so they got a bit cocky leaving the cell phone on. The boy
5869said they taunted him with its ringing. They had no intention of returning him
5870to his grandfather. Or the girl. Unfortunately, the kidnappers were gone before
5871we got there." He pointed to the police sketch artist. "The kids are
5872giving us descriptions."<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
5873"And Mr. Lee?" Maggie wanted to know.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
5874"I've sent someone over to the hospital to let him know. He won't be able
5875to see Dixon until after this is over. They're probably still having him
5876watched."<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
5877"Wait a minute. Henry Lee? Is that who we're talking about?" Nick
5878asked Maggie. "The head of HL Enterprises, the owner of United Allied
5879Security, he was your informant?"<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
5880She glanced around the room, then nodded.<br class="calibre9"/><br class="calibre9"/></p>
5881
5882<p class="calibre10"><a name="ch70"></a><strong class="calibre7">CHAPTER</strong><b class="calibre7"><br class="calibre6"/><strong class="calibre7">70</strong></b></p>
5883
5884<p class="MsoNormal1">Maggie gave one of her hotel
5885room key cards to Patrick.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
5886"Go get some sleep," she told him. Actually it didn't take much
5887convincing once Ceimo promised to let him talk to Rebecca.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
5888Charlie Wurth recommended they all go get a few hours of sleep. There was
5889nothing more they could do here. As soon as Wurth informed Senator Foster about
5890a second plot, he offered the use of his jet, but it wouldn't be ready to take
5891off for Phoenix until late afternoon. Wurth, himself, didn't leave, continuing
5892to work the phones, a landline and his cell phone, all the while punching keys
5893on his laptop computer.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
5894Before Maggie could pack up her own laptop, Nick was at her side.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
5895"I can't believe you didn't tell me your informant was Henry Lee."<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
5896He sounded upset. She checked his eyes. He was hurt.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
5897"I told you I couldn't. At least not until we knew his grandson was
5898safe."<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
5899"But Ceimo knew."<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
5900She took a deep breath. Is that what this was about? A spark of jealousy
5901between two old football rivals. Just when she thought Nick Morrelli could
5902actually be a grown-up. Back in her hotel room, for a minute or two, she
5903thought perhaps he had changed.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
5904"He was able to help," she explained, "using the governor's
5905influence."<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
5906"If you honestly trusted me, you would have told me it was Henry Lee. But
5907because I work for one of his companies…what'd you think, I would run off and
5908tell my boss, Al Banoff?"<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
5909"Wait a minute," Maggie said, putting up her hands in surrender.
5910"I didn't even know Mr. Lee was the majority owner of UAS."<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
5911"Yeah, that's what you said." He didn't believe her.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
5912"Why would I lie? Is that what you're insinuating? That I lied?"<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
5913"I don't know, did you? You could trust Ceimo, but not me. Maybe you
5914thought I was somehow involved in all of this…this ridiculous plot to
5915strong-arm malls and airports to upgrade their security?"<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
5916"Of course not." She was getting impatient. "If anything, they
5917sent you to make sure their plot wasn't revealed."<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
5918That stopped him. As soon as she saw his jaw clench tight and twitch with
5919tension, she knew she had said the wrong thing.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
5920"I didn't mean it that way," she started to apologize. "I only
5921meant that they may have taken advantage of sending someone new."<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
5922"Someone green. Someone who didn't know what the fuck he was doing."<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
5923"Nick."<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
5924"Forget about it." He waved her off. "There're more important
5925things to worry about right now."<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
5926But she could tell he was still upset as he turned to leave, jaw still tight,
5927shoulders squared. He didn't just walk away from her, he left the room.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
5928When she turned back, A.D. Kunze was there.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
5929He pointed with his chin at the exit. "Don't worry about it. He'll get
5930over it." He lifted a file folder he had in his hand. "I have
5931something I want you to see."<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
5932"What is it?"<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
5933He looked around the room. Ceimo had left. Patrick and Nick were gone. Wurth
5934was the only one and he was busy multitasking in the corner. Still, Kunze
5935motioned for her to sit down at one of the tables in the opposite corner.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
5936"It's a debriefing file." He handed it to her. "From Oklahoma
5937City."<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
5938"An agent who worked the scene?"<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
5939He nodded.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
5940"How did you get it?" Usually debriefing files weren't easily
5941accessed. Sometimes debriefings, especially in cases with gruesome casualties,
5942were done more for the mental health of the agent than as a source of information.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
5943"Never mind that. I downloaded a copy. Take it back with you. Sift through
5944it."<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
5945She opened the file folder. At first glance, the blacked out names, an
5946assortment of inked-in rectangles, were what caught her attention.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
5947"We had 43,000 lead sheets," Kunze told her. "Interviewed 35,000
5948witnesses. It was overwhelming. You can't even imagine. Some of the
5949witnesses…" He shook his head, remembering. "I did some of the early
5950interviews. I can tell you about them as if the interview was last week. Rodney
5951Johnson. The guy was in a parking lot across from Fifth Street. He saw two men
5952running from the federal building, in step, one behind the other. Couldn't
5953figure out why they were running. A minute later the blast blew out the windows
5954in his pickup.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
5955"He gave a description of both men. One fit Tim McVeigh. The other had an
5956olive complexion, dark hair, muscular build, Carolina Panthers' ball cap. Not
5957even close to being Terry Nichols.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
5958"Same thing in Junction City, Kansas, where McVeigh got the Ryder truck.
5959Joanna Van Buren at the Subway shop said there were three men who came in for lunch.
5960She remembered because she had to break a fifty-dollar bill for McVeigh. She
5961called us almost immediately when the story broke. Another agent and I went to
5962Junction City. Interviewed her and two other clerks. They ID'd McVeigh, gave
5963vague descriptions of the other two. Again, one of them had an olive
5964complexion, dark hair, muscular build. The sandwich shop had a security camera.
5965I thought we lucked out. I confiscated the video." He must have seen the
5966anticipation in Maggie's eyes as she sat up, because he was shaking his head.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
5967"The video disappeared before I had a chance to even look at it. Don't
5968even ask," he told her. "Over twenty witnesses saw McVeigh with
5969someone other than Terry Nichols. The descriptions were amazingly
5970similar."<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
5971"But there was a sketch that was released early on."<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
5972"Here's the thing." Kunze hesitated. "Most of the interviews
5973were done before that sketch was even made. Eyewitnesses are often unreliable.
5974That's what we're told, right? But over a dozen people describing what sounds like
5975the exact same guy?"<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
5976"So what are you telling me? That John Doe #2 was real? That he may be the
5977Project Manager?"<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
5978"I can't tell you whether or not he was real. We were never given the
5979opportunity to find out. Are you familiar with Occam's razor?"<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
5980"A little." The exhaustion made it difficult to concentrate. She
5981rubbed at her eyes as she said, "It has something to do with the simplest
5982explanation being the correct one."<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
5983He nodded, looking at his hands before folding them together on top of the
5984table. He intertwined the fingers.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
5985"That's what we were told to follow," he finally said. "Occam's
5986razor is the principle that if you have two or more theories and the conclusion
5987is the same, the simplest of the theories is usually the correct one. All of
5988our theories, no matter how many men McVeigh was seen with or whether he was
5989seen over and over again with this same olive complexion man, the conclusion
5990always included McVeigh. So you razor out all the things you can't explain, all
5991the stuff that requires speculation, any hypothetical conclusions."<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
5992"In other words, you were held back from finding out who John Doe #2
5993really was."<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
5994"Certain people weren't interested in a complex plot. As soon as they had
5995McVeigh there was an urgency to tailor our investigation to ensure his
5996prosecution. We had to at least nail him, right? Anything beyond that…razor it
5997down." He paused, watching her eyes as if he needed to know how all this
5998information was registering.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
5999Maggie simply waited.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
6000"Look, I have no idea if this Project Manager could even be the same
6001man," Kunze said. "That doesn't really matter. But the reference to
6002Oklahoma City is unsettling. I think it means that this is something more than
6003a greedy security corporation. It's something more than causing a commotion, a
6004wake-up call by switching jamming devices with bombs."<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
6005"You don't think this Project Manager is a rogue terrorist taking
6006advantage of the opportunity?"<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
6007He shrugged.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
6008"After Oklahoma City there was a journalist—" Kunze's voice got
6009quieter and he leaned closer "—who suggested McVeigh and Nichols were
6010actually duped by a federal informant acting as a provocateur."<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
6011"Are you suggesting the government provoked the Oklahoma City
6012bombing?"<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
6013"Not the government as in the administration. God no. But maybe someone
6014within the government. Someone with enough power and political ties. Someone
6015upset that we virtually ignored the warning of the first World Trade Center
6016bombing in '93. Someone who thought there should be a wake-up call. Sound
6017familiar?"<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
6018"You believe Henry Lee's secret group exists?"<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
6019Another big-shouldered shrug.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
6020"You thought it was CAP," she reminded him.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
6021"He told you it was a smokescreen, a distraction. He didn't deny a
6022connection. Could be how they recruited those college kids. They may have used
6023CAP just like they used those kids."<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
6024"And they being…?"<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
6025"Is it so far-fetched to believe there might be other businessmen like
6026Henry Lee who started with honorable intentions then got sidetracked? He
6027mentioned business contracts. There were a helluva lot of contracts that came
6028after Oklahoma City to reconstruct federal buildings, add security equipment,
6029personnel."<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
6030"I have to tell you," she told Kunze. "I'm not much for
6031conspiracy theories." Perhaps she was simply exhausted but she couldn't
6032connect the dots Kunze was laying out in front of her.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
6033"Just keep in mind, there's some major legislation coming down concerning
6034Homeland Security. Not just the dollars for Phoenix. There're a couple of huge
6035bills coming up for a vote, maybe before the holidays. I don't know all the
6036details but it reinstates some stiff regulations for security, regulations that
6037need to be in place before the beneficiaries receive any of the federal dollars
6038attached to the bill."<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
6039"Let me get this straight." She braced her elbows on the table and
6040laid her chin in her hands. "You think this Project Manager, by making a
6041reference to Oklahoma City, was tipping his hat, so to speak? Perhaps revealing
6042that, just like Oklahoma City, these bombings are being orchestrated as a
6043government conspiracy?"<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
6044Kunze started to interrupt but she put up her hand. "Correction, not the
6045government but a group of businessmen with political ties, have hired a
6046professional terrorist to carry out two fatal attacks just to move a bill
6047through Congress?"<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
6048A.D. Kunze sat back and released a sigh. "You're right. It does sound
6049far-fetched." He stood and stretched his arms above his head, rotating his
6050thick neck back and forth and definitely putting an end to their conversation
6051whether or not he was finished. Then as if it was an afterthought, he pointed
6052to the file folder. "Do me a favor. Just skim through that."<br class="calibre9"/><br class="calibre9"/></p>
6053
6054<p class="calibre10"><a name="ch71"></a><strong class="calibre7">CHAPTER</strong><b class="calibre7"><br class="calibre6"/><strong class="calibre7">71</strong></b></p>
6055
6056<p class="MsoNormal1"><i class="calibre8">In flight</i><br class="calibre6"/><i class="calibre8">Leaving Minneapolis</i><br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
6057Patrick had never been on a private jet before. The huge leather captain chairs
6058swiveled and reclined. The walls were paneled, the floor carpeted. They were
6059being served beverages in crystal glassware. The pewter coasters were indented
6060into the wooden side table and had the Senator's initials, A.F., engraved. It
6061was pretty amazing and yet all he could think about was his phone conversation
6062with Rebecca.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
6063It was short, way too short.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
6064"I'm so sorry," was one of the first things she said. After all she
6065had been through and she was apologizing to him.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
6066"Dixon made me think you might be involved somehow," she explained.
6067"He was scared. He made a mistake. I was scared. Can you ever forgive
6068me?"<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
6069He was simply relieved to hear her voice, to know she was finally safe. He
6070couldn't, however, tell her about Phoenix. Couldn't explain what was going on,
6071except that he would see her in a couple of days.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
6072He looked around the inside of the plane, wondering what exactly he had gotten
6073himself into. A couple of days ago he would have steered clear, content to be
6074on the sidelines. He still wasn't sure why he wanted to do this, needed to do
6075this.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
6076Deputy Director Wurth and Mr. Morrelli were at the back of the plane. They had
6077a map of Sky Harbor spread out on a table and were going over details.
6078Assistant Director Kunze had taken one of the chairs on the other side of the
6079aisle and was stretched out, fast asleep, or at least it sounded like it from
6080his heavy breathing.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
6081Maggie sat directly across from Patrick, staring out the window into the night.
6082She had been reading what looked like poor photocopies of documents that had
6083black rectangles stamped throughout the pages. Classified stuff, no doubt. He
6084didn't think the documents held all her attention. She looked preoccupied,
6085thinking about something else. But then how would he know? He kept telling
6086himself that Maggie didn't know him at all. Yet how hard had he tried to get to
6087know her?<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
6088One thing he did know—she wasn't happy that he was coming along.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
6089"I guess I really just want to help," he said, out of the blue,
6090almost as if he had only now found the answer for himself.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
6091She looked over at him as if she had forgotten he was there.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
6092"I don't want you to get hurt."<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
6093He smiled at that. Couldn't help it. He caught himself trying to hide it with a
6094swipe of his fingers to his mouth. If she'd only seen what he had already gone
6095through in the last twenty-four hours.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
6096"What?" she asked, her voice sounding defensive.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
6097"I've never had anyone worry about me."<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
6098"Your mom worries about you."<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
6099This time he laughed. She obviously didn't know his mom either. "I've
6100worried about my mom for a lot more years than she's worried about me."<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
6101Her eyes met his and there was something he recognized before she looked away.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
6102She glanced out the window again.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
6103"We have more in common than either of us realize," she told him.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
6104"Probably why I need to go along."<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
6105This time she smiled.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
6106"I really can take care of myself," he told her and only hoped she
6107never found out about the dryer incident.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
6108They sat in silence, a bit awkward, but Patrick knew she was letting him
6109control the silence. Leaving the decision to him and what, if anything, he
6110wanted to share. Maybe it was time he told her some things about himself if he
6111ever wanted her to get to know him.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
6112"I changed my major," he said.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
6113Before he could continue, she surprised him by saying, "I know. Fire
6114Science. How do you like it?"<br class="calibre9"/><br class="calibre9"/></p>
6115
6116<p class="calibre10"><a name="ch72"></a><strong class="calibre7">CHAPTER</strong><b class="calibre7"><br class="calibre6"/><strong class="calibre7">72</strong></b></p>
6117
6118<p class="MsoNormal1">Something nagged at Maggie ever
6119since they'd left Minneapolis. She couldn't put her finger on it. Even
6120Patrick's charm and boyish naivety couldn't distract her. She was pleased that
6121he wanted to move their relationship beyond the barriers they had imposed,
6122though both of them seemed to tiptoe around each other. He was a good kid,
6123smart, kind and self-reliant. But she knew he had no idea what he was getting
6124himself into. His adventure over the last day may have left him feeling
6125invincible. But tracking professional killers was something that should be left
6126to the professionals.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
6127She'd already talked to Charlie Wurth about how they could utilize Patrick at
6128Sky Harbor, but only at the lowest level of risk. She wanted him in her sights
6129at all times. All of them would be connected with a wireless communication
6130system. Not two-way radios that could be tapped into, but something limited
6131only to their task force. They'd all wear Kevlar vests under their traveling
6132clothes. And GPS tracking systems. She tried to put in place as many
6133precautions as possible, but she knew if Patrick ended up getting hurt she'd
6134never forgive herself.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
6135She glanced at Nick poring over the maps with Wurth in the back of the plane.
6136How could he believe she didn't trust him? That she'd lied to him? Who was she
6137fooling? As soon as she had seen him sitting at the controls in front of the
6138surveillance monitors and knew he was the investigator for the security
6139company, she didn't trust his judgment. Whatever chemistry existed between them
6140didn't seem to run deep enough to include trust and loyalty.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
6141She had almost let herself get lost in their kiss, lost in Nick Morrelli's
6142charm. It felt so right at the time, but there had to be something more, an
6143anchor more solid than chemistry. Or was it simply her? Would she ever be able
6144to trust a man enough to let him into her life? Had she not learned anything in
6145the last two months?<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
6146Before boarding she had checked her voice messages. There was an early-morning
6147one from Ben. He joked about her leaping over cars, said he was worried about
6148her and to call when she got the opportunity. He didn't sound like a doctor
6149simply worried about a patient. Outside of Gwen and her partner, R.J. Tully,
6150she wasn't used to having someone worry about her. She wasn't used to having
6151someone want to take care of her. She wasn't sure how she felt about it.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
6152Suddenly she realized what was nagging her. It wasn't Patrick or Nick or even
6153Ben. It was something A.D. Kunze had said earlier. Why couldn't she put her
6154finger on it? She'd read a good deal of the debriefing file before realizing it
6155was a debriefing of Special Agent Raymond Kunze. He'd failed to mention that
6156not only had he conducted some of the early witness interviews, he was also one
6157of the first agents on the scene.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
6158She glanced over at him. He was stretched out and sleeping, a blanket pulled up
6159to his chin. Fourteen years ago Kunze would have been about her age, an
6160experienced agent who had probably already seen his share of the horrors people
6161could do to each other. But nothing prepares you for mass murder.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
6162During their trip from D.C. yesterday he had mentioned Oklahoma City. He'd come
6163to this scene at the personal request of the Minnesota governor and the state's
6164senior senator and he'd even brought along a profiler to connect the dots. For
6165someone who, after fourteen years, still believed that John Doe #2 assisted
6166Timothy McVeigh and then disappeared into the Oklahoma City landscape, Kunze
6167had been anxious to wrap up the mall bombing in a neat, simple package. Had he
6168purposely tried to sway the investigation in the wrong direction by insisting
6169they consider Citizens for American Pride, a fringe, white supremacist group? A
6170group that had never perpetrated violence in the past. Had Kunze already known
6171about Henry Lee's secret group? Or suspected that it existed?<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
6172Maggie pulled her laptop case out from under her seat and started rifling
6173through the contents. She pulled out the file folder she'd received on their
6174flight from D.C. Inside were the warnings or what Kunze and Senator Foster had
6175considered warnings. The copies of memorandums were poor quality. They
6176mentioned phone calls and e-mails, but there were no transcripts of the calls,
6177no copies of the e-mails. The memorandums talked about vague warnings but went
6178into great detail about the group called Citizens for American Pride, CAP for
6179short. What Maggie was most interested in, was where the warnings had been
6180sent. Who received the e-mails and phone calls? Why had Kunze been so convinced
6181the group was responsible?<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
6182Finally on the last page, toward the bottom, there was a brief note, almost a
6183footnote: "Approximate times of e-mails and phone calls not recorded by
6184Senator Foster's staff."<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
6185So it had been the senator who had received the warnings.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
6186Maggie slumped down in the leather chair, tapping the corner of the file folder
6187against the chair arm. It was exhausting trying to figure out any of this.
6188Henry Lee had told her that Citizens for American Pride was a smokescreen, a
6189distraction. But Kunze still believed the group might be involved. He'd even
6190suggested they may have been used.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
6191There were a lot of things about this case that didn't add up, no matter how
6192hard she tried to look for the obvious. Smokescreens, kidnapping, hired bombers
6193and secret organizations.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
6194Kunze had mentioned Occam's razor and now Maggie remembered another adage:
6195Don't speculate about hypothetical components. The simplest answer was usually
6196the correct one. Was Phoenix the simplest answer or mere speculation? Was it
6197possible that they were headed to the wrong airport? Could the Project Manager
6198have chosen Las Vegas?<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
6199She shifted in her captain's chair, sank the back of her head into the soft
6200leather and closed her eyes. One thing A.D. Kunze didn't quite understand and
6201William of Occam would never have considered or included in his principle was
6202exactly what Maggie counted on—gut instinct. She'd bet her life on it any day
6203of the week and hopefully she could count on it one more time.<br class="calibre9"/><br class="calibre9"/></p>
6204
6205<p class="calibre10"><a name="ch73"></a><strong class="calibre7">CHAPTER</strong><b class="calibre7"><br class="calibre6"/><strong class="calibre7">73</strong></b></p>
6206
6207<p class="MsoNormal1">Everything had gone smoothly.
6208No more glitches. Asante was pleased.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
6209The crew in Minneapolis had disbanded, destroying or taking with them anything
6210that could be incriminating. And if they had gotten sloppy, or even if they
6211were detained, it didn't matter. None of them had met him or seen what he
6212looked like. They knew absolutely nothing about him. He had a new SIM card in
6213his cell phone. He'd even reprogrammed his computer. The numbers they had been
6214using to reach him, no longer existed. There was no way to connect any of them
6215to Asante, which was just another mark of a brilliant project manager. Even
6216members of his crew were cutaways. No one would be able to reach him now. Not
6217the people he'd hired, nor the men who had hired him. Everything was in place.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
6218The white Chevy TrailBlazer he'd chosen from the Las Vegas airport's long-term
6219parking lot had proven to be a comfortable ride. It had also been a plus that
6220the SUV didn't have an OnStar navigation system. The owner had accidentally
6221left a printout of his flight itinerary on the passenger seat. He wouldn't be
6222returning until the following week.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
6223As extra insurance, before Asante left the parking lot he drove around until he
6224found another white Chevy SUV. The second one was an older model Chevy Blazer,
6225but it had served his purpose. He exchanged the two SUVs' license plates easily
6226in the middle of the night with no one around to notice.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
6227Asante had driven straight through, all three hundred and fifty-nine miles with
6228only one interruption. He'd exited his route to stop at a storage facility a
6229few minutes after crossing the Nevada/Arizona border. The entire trip had taken
6230him just over six hours.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
6231Now he ate dinner in his hotel room, a feast by room service standards. He
6232could see the airport from his window, continuous blinking lights as the last
6233of the evening flights came in and went out. That was one thing he liked about
6234Phoenix. You could see forever without buildings getting in the way. He
6235wondered if the blast tomorrow morning could be seen from this very window.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
6236Asante finished the last of his dessert, wiped his mouth with the cloth napkin
6237and shoved the tray aside. Standing, he could see the hotel's parking lot from
6238this window, too. The Pullmans were in the Chevy TrailBlazer, packed and ready.
6239Everything else he needed for tomorrow he had pulled from his duffel bag and
6240laid out on the second double bed.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
6241He fingered the Carolina Panthers baseball cap. It was beginning to show some
6242wear though he'd taken good care of it over the years. He'd never watched a
6243Panthers game in his life. In fact, he'd bought the cap at a convenience store
6244in Junction City, Kansas. It had been an impulse buy at the time. Asante didn't
6245believe in lucky charms but this ordinary ball cap had come close to being one.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
6246He rubbed his hands together and glanced around the room. Everything was in
6247place. No glitches. He'd get a good night's sleep.<br class="calibre9"/><br class="calibre9"/></p>
6248
6249<p class="calibre10"><a name="ch74"></a><strong class="calibre7">CHAPTER</strong><b class="calibre7"><br class="calibre6"/><strong class="calibre7">74</strong></b></p>
6250
6251<p class="MsoNormal1"><i class="calibre8">Sunday, November 25</i><br class="calibre6"/><i class="calibre8">Sky Harbor International Airport</i><br class="calibre6"/><i class="calibre8">Phoenix, Arizona</i><br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
6252Nick wished he had Jerry Yarden here to help him. The quirky little man had an
6253eye for details and a knack for electronic security equipment. He would have
6254had everything in place by now. Instead Nick had been at it since midnight,
6255working with two security technicians, installing and preparing equipment he'd
6256only just learned to operate a few weeks ago.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
6257Because Sky Harbor had been one of the airports on UAS's list for equipment
6258upgrades they had also been sent samples of the new system. Last night when
6259they arrived at the airport, Nick had contacted UAS's manager on-site. The man
6260had been taken off guard by the surprise visit but impressed with Nick's
6261credentials. That he had the Deputy Director of Homeland Security along with
6262him had probably helped. Nick obtained the sample equipment and the two
6263technicians with only the explanation that they would be conducting a test.
6264Then he set out to install the wireless cameras in the areas he and Charlie
6265Wurth had selected. Areas that up until now didn't have cameras.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
6266These new models were small but if the Project Manager was the professional
6267they all expected him to be, Nick didn't want to take any chances that he'd
6268notice them. His technicians took on the challenge with enthusiasm, looking for
6269ways to hide or obscure the cameras while allowing them to have full
6270functionality. Nick was pleased with the results, though none of the cameras
6271would matter if he wasn't able to identify the Project Manager from the police
6272artist's sketch. Just the thought made his heart pound and his palms sweat.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
6273Wurth was being selective as to who he alerted and he'd convinced Nick that no
6274one else under the employment of UAS should be included. Other than Henry Lee,
6275they had no evidence that anyone at UAS was involved in the attack, but Wurth
6276insisted they take the extra precaution. He didn't want to risk word trickling
6277through the ranks and getting to the Project Manager. Nick agreed.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
6278Wurth did, however, warn TSA. He had air marshals on-site. He had arranged for
6279a bomb squad and sniper unit from Quantico to arrive last night. In the early
6280morning hours while Nick and Wurth roamed around the airport, Wurth pointed out
6281team coordinators for the bomb squad. They were dressed as housekeeping, busy
6282securing their stations. Their carts were identical to the airport housekeeping
6283staff, only—according to Wurth—these carts contained what Wurth called
6284"safe containers" instead of bathroom cleaner.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
6285Wurth had also pointed out a hallway that now was blocked off with UNDER
6286CONSTRUCTION signs and sawhorses.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
6287"There's an exit and armored vehicle stationed and ready to take the bomb
6288to a vacant airstrip."<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
6289Nick liked how Charlie Wurth made it all sound so organized and simple. Like
6290maybe it could really work, they could actually prevent this attack.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
6291"We'll have all three terminals covered," Nick told Wurth as they
6292finished their final pass-through. "We'll have limited views of the
6293ticketing areas. Once he leaves those areas I won't be able to follow
6294him."<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
6295"Understood."<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
6296"Here in Terminal 4 there are ticket kiosks on the second level."
6297Nick pointed up the escalators. "The one to the right of the escalator is
6298sort of hidden out of view. It'd be easy to leave a bag there and not have
6299anyone notice for a short while."<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
6300"I'll get someone stationed to watch."<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
6301The two stood in front of the long line of US Airways counters. Both of them
6302had their arms crossed over their chests, feet spread apart, standing tall and
6303straight as they took one last look around. Staff had started to come in,
6304opening doors, turning on computers. But it was still quiet compared to what it
6305would be like an hour from now.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
6306"We're ready," Wurth said without moving from his stance and sounding
6307confident.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
6308Nick simply nodded. He wondered if Charlie Wurth had problems with his heart
6309banging against his rib cage.<br class="calibre9"/><br class="calibre9"/></p>
6310
6311<p class="calibre10"><a name="ch75"></a><strong class="calibre7">CHAPTER</strong><b class="calibre7"><br class="calibre6"/><strong class="calibre7">75</strong></b></p>
6312
6313<p class="MsoNormal1"><i class="calibre8">Terminal 4a</i><br class="calibre6"/><i class="calibre8">Sky Harbor International Airport</i><br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
6314Maggie watched Patrick from above the ticket area. She stayed on the second
6315floor, close to the rail, but away from the escalators. Looking down on him in
6316his blue jeans and gray hooded sweatshirt, she couldn't shake the feeling of
6317how much he looked like those college boys at Mall of America.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
6318Wurth had equipped all of them with wireless headsets that slipped on over the
6319ear and allowed them to communicate with each other while looking like ordinary
6320passengers, talking on their cell phones. They agreed to keep conversation to a
6321minimum but Maggie insisted Patrick do check-ins at fifteen-minute intervals.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
6322"If I can't see you, I want to hear you," she told him earlier as she
6323helped him into his Kevlar vest.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
6324They had been wandering around for a couple of hours now, disguised as
6325passengers, carry-on cases over their shoulders. Patrick had a worn duffel bag
6326and a smartphone. He stopped periodically to look like he was reading or
6327sending text messages. An ordinary kid going back home or back to college after
6328a Thanksgiving holiday. Maggie was impressed. He looked convincing despite his
6329eyes wandering around the entire area, not stopping on any one face long enough
6330to be suspicious. He was better at this than she expected.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
6331Somewhere Nick was watching monitors that corresponded with the new wireless
6332cameras he had installed, several in each terminal's ticket areas. He'd studied
6333the sketch of the Project Manager. They'd all studied the sketch, but only
6334Patrick seemed totally convinced that he'd recognize the man.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
6335New passengers came up the escalators. The first flights of the morning had
6336already left. Maggie felt certain it was to be another morning attack but it
6337could end up being a long day.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
6338She opened a paperback novel and leaned on the rail. It looked like she was
6339reading but her eyes were still looking down below, watching the entrances,
6340scanning the figures in the check-in lines and examining any of the men
6341lingering off to the sides. She also kept checking the faces coming up on the
6342escalator.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
6343"At the newspaper stand," she said, suddenly noticing a man stopped
6344there, wearing a navy blue jacket, trousers, sunglasses and dragging a large,
6345black Pullman.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
6346She glanced down at Patrick and saw him casually wander closer, pretending to
6347be interested in the headlines of the newspaper through the glass on the
6348machine.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
6349"Nope, I don't think so," he said, this time holding up the phone to
6350his ear so anyone who might not see the wireless headset would know he was on
6351the cell phone. "I'm gonna stop off at the restroom. Talk to you later."<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
6352The ticket area quickly got crowded again. Bodies and luggage pressed tight,
6353waiting to check in, lined up at self-serve kiosks. She noticed A.D. Kunze down
6354below talking to a woman in a housekeeping uniform. She certainly didn't look
6355like a sniper or a member of the bomb squad, but then that was the whole idea,
6356wasn't it.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
6357When Maggie glanced back she didn't see Patrick. Her breath caught as she
6358searched, straining to keep from looking like she was searching. Where had he
6359gone?<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
6360"Patrick?"<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
6361In answer, she heard a toilet flush. She saw Kunze look up at her but he didn't
6362smile until he turned away.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
6363Okay, so she was being an overprotective big sister. A few minutes later she
6364noticed Patrick come out of the restroom but he disappeared out of her sight
6365again, just behind the down escalator.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
6366Relax, she told herself. She needed to relax.<br class="calibre9"/><br class="calibre9"/></p>
6367
6368<p class="calibre10"><a name="ch76"></a><strong class="calibre7">CHAPTER</strong><b class="calibre7"><br class="calibre6"/><strong class="calibre7">76</strong></b></p>
6369
6370<p class="MsoNormal1">Patrick followed the guy from
6371the restroom. He tried to maintain his laid-back, casual pace despite wanting
6372to hurry. He didn't want to lose him in the crowd.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
6373From the back he thought he recognized the Project Manager's walk. Something
6374about the shoulders, thrown back, chest out, almost like a soldier. Yeah, that
6375was it. He kinda walked like a soldier, at attention, alert to everything and
6376everyone around him. Even his head went from side to side, observing without
6377stopping.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
6378He wanted to be sure. He knew there were snipers, air marshals and agents,
6379waiting. One word from him and they'd be swarming the place. He couldn't say
6380anything until he was absolutely sure. He didn't want to screw up. Maggie was
6381counting on him.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
6382The guy went around the corner like he was getting on the escalator. Patrick
6383waited a step or two, pretending to check his phone. He didn't want to follow
6384so close especially if they both got on the escalator. He'd backtrack around
6385the other way. Maybe he could get a better look from the other side.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
6386He turned to do just that and almost bumped into the guy.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
6387"You forgot that I could recognize you, too," he told Patrick,
6388flashing him a smile as he pressed him against the wall of the escalator,
6389pinning him in with a heavy, black Pullman.<br class="calibre9"/><br class="calibre9"/></p>
6390
6391<p class="calibre10"><a name="ch77"></a><strong class="calibre7">CHAPTER</strong><b class="calibre7"><br class="calibre6"/><strong class="calibre7">77</strong></b></p>
6392
6393<p class="MsoNormal1">Maggie leaned against the
6394railing and glanced at her watch. It hadn't been five minutes. He had been out
6395of her sight for only five minutes. She restrained herself from calling him
6396again.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
6397If Nick had seen the Project Manager come through any of the front doors he
6398would have alerted them. Unless he disguised himself.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
6399No, don't do that, she told herself. Don't speculate. She didn't need to
6400second-guess herself.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
6401Was it possible the Project Manager had someone else drop off the bag? Had he
6402already been here and left it somewhere?<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
6403She looked out over the floor below now packed with passengers and their
6404luggage, little kids dragging behind parents, senior citizens shuffling through
6405the tight passes. She tried to watch for bags that didn't move along with any
6406passengers in the long, slow check-in lines. Wurth walked past her, keeping to
6407the railing. He was doing the same thing, watching for bags left behind. A.D.
6408Kunze did the same down below.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
6409Maggie glanced back looking for Patrick. She was just about to call him when
6410she saw him come out from behind the barrier. Only now he was dragging a black
6411Pullman behind him. Her stomach fell to her knees even before she saw the glint
6412of the handcuffs.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
6413"He's got Patrick," she whispered into her headset.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
6414"Yes, he does," came a voice she didn't recognize.<br class="calibre9"/><br class="calibre9"/></p>
6415
6416<p class="calibre10"><a name="ch78"></a><strong class="calibre7">CHAPTER</strong><b class="calibre7"><br class="calibre6"/><strong class="calibre7">78</strong></b></p>
6417
6418<p class="MsoNormal1">Patrick couldn't see Maggie's
6419face from where he stood. He tried not to look directly at her. He knew that's
6420what the Project Manager was waiting for. He could talk to them with Patrick's
6421headset but he didn't know exactly who they were or where they were. He was
6422standing off to the side now, about thirty feet away, watching and waiting for
6423Patrick to give away their locations.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
6424Damn it! He really screwed this up.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
6425It happened so quickly. One minute the guy was in front of him, disappearing
6426around the corner and the next minute he was behind Patrick, slipping the cuffs
6427on him and chaining him to the handle of the Pullman.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
6428The guy looked different enough that Patrick hadn't been sure. Back at the mall
6429he had worn a ball cap but his hair had also been much longer and dark. Now it
6430was bristle-short and almost blond. He'd had facial hair, too, a clipped goatee.
6431Now he was clean-shaven. He wore a golf shirt, navy canvas jacket, khaki
6432trousers and leather loafers. No ball cap. But it was the walk that drew
6433Patrick's attention. By the time he was able to look the guy in the eyes, it
6434was too late.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
6435Off to the side Patrick could see A.D. Kunze. He stopped himself from looking
6436over. Out of the corner of his eyes he could see that Kunze wasn't looking at
6437him, either. He was talking to a cleaning woman, standing by her cart.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
6438He glanced up to Maggie. Son of a bitch! The Project Manager caught him and
6439followed his line of vision. But Maggie was gone.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
6440He saw the guy's lips moving. He was talking to them, using Patrick's headset.
6441What the hell was he telling them? He'd moved away from Patrick quickly. So
6442quickly Patrick wasn't sure if anyone had seen him. Would they know which one
6443he was? Could they tell?<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
6444Patrick glanced around again while the Project Manager still searched the upper
6445level, scanning the railing where Maggie had been earlier. Then Patrick saw
6446her. She was coming down the escalator, smiling and chatting with a woman next
6447to her. The Project Manager turned his back to Patrick, just for a second or
6448two and Patrick used the opportunity to point him out. He swung his free hand
6449up, jerked his index finger at the man's back then brought his hand to his head
6450and raked his fingers through his hair just as the Project Manager turned
6451around.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
6452Did Maggie see it? Did any of the others? It might have been too late, because
6453now the guy was leaving. After all, he didn't need to be near the bomb to
6454detonate it by remote control.<br class="calibre9"/><br class="calibre9"/></p>
6455
6456<p class="calibre10"><a name="ch79"></a><strong class="calibre7">CHAPTER</strong><b class="calibre7"><br class="calibre6"/><strong class="calibre7">79</strong></b></p>
6457
6458<p class="MsoNormal1">Maggie tried to keep the panic
6459from showing. It felt like something had her by the throat. She had to
6460concentrate on breathing. She had to remind herself to slow down. Look by
6461moving her eyes, not her head. Stay calm. Move nonchalantly. No nervous twitches.
6462No jerks or twists around.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
6463She tried to figure out who Patrick was looking at. None of the men around him
6464looked like the sketch. The only olive complexion belonged to a guy with short,
6465spiky sun-bleached hair, dressed in khakis and a navy blue jacket.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
6466She eased her way toward the escalator.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
6467"I have a remote," the voice came again over her headset. "You
6468don't have any choice but to let me walk out of here."<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
6469No one answered him. There was silence. They could no longer talk to each other
6470now. Their communication system was useless.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
6471She started down the escalator and asked the woman next to her if she'd had a
6472good holiday. The woman started telling her about her trip while Maggie smiled
6473at her and looked over her shoulder. Patrick looked miserable. He glanced in
6474her direction. She wasn't sure if he'd seen her. Then suddenly she saw him
6475raise his hand. He jerked a finger in one direction and ended up pushing back
6476his hair. He had pointed to someone. He was giving them a signal, telling them
6477who the Project Manager was.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
6478Maggie came off the escalator, turning in Patrick's direction. She was close
6479enough now to catch his eyes. He flicked his away, looking over in the same
6480direction he had pointed.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
6481The Project Manager had to be the man in the navy blue jacket and khakis. He
6482was walking away, headed toward an exit but able to keep an eye on Patrick.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
6483"You'll let me leave," he said and this time she could see his lips
6484move. He still hadn't noticed her, and he no longer looked from side to side.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
6485Kunze was closest to Patrick. He and the cleaning woman were edging their way
6486forward. It didn't look like he had identified the Project Manager yet. Maggie
6487examined the railing above, but she couldn't see Wurth. Was she the only one?<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
6488She looked back at Patrick and this time their eyes met. He pointed again and
6489mouthed something to her. He was telling her to go after him. Don't let him get
6490away. But how could she leave Patrick chained to a suitcase bomb?<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
6491The Project Manager was at the front doors, walking out. What would stop him
6492from detonating the bomb once he was out of impact range? She had to stop him.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
6493Maggie waved at Kunze to help Patrick. He moved in with the cleaning woman and
6494her cart. Maggie took off running, dodging her way around passengers. She dug
6495her right hand under her jacket, gripped the butt of her Smith &amp; Wesson but
6496kept it in its shoulder holster.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
6497She slammed out the door onto the sidewalk and stopped. She'd seen him turn to
6498his right but she couldn't see him now through the line of curb-side check-ins.
6499She pushed her way through, stumbling over luggage and feet. He was there, up
6500ahead, five car lengths, getting into the passenger side of a black sedan.
6501Maggie shoved herself between startled passengers but the car was already
6502pulling away. She saw the license plate and watched helplessly as it sped away.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
6503Out of breath, she leaned against a concrete bench. And that's when it
6504happened. The explosion sent vibrations under her feet almost knocking her
6505over.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
6506It was too late. She was too late.<br class="calibre9"/><br class="calibre9"/></p>
6507
6508<p class="calibre10"><a name="ch80"></a><strong class="calibre7">CHAPTER</strong><b class="calibre7"><br class="calibre6"/><strong class="calibre7">80</strong></b></p>
6509
6510<p class="MsoNormal1"><i class="calibre8">Monday, November 26</i><br class="calibre6"/><i class="calibre8">Federal Bureau of Investigation</i><br class="calibre6"/><i class="calibre8">111 Washington Avenue South</i><br class="calibre6"/><i class="calibre8">Minneapolis, Minnesota</i><br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
6511Maggie waited though her patience was wearing thin. She didn't want to talk
6512about it anymore. Nothing she said would change things. No amount of debriefing
6513could remove the guilt and regret.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
6514A.D. Raymond Kunze came in alone this time. He sat down across from her. He
6515didn't say anything. Instead he folded his hands on top of the table,
6516intertwining the fingers, a gesture Maggie recognized. What was it, again? She
6517tried to access her memory to psychology of body language. Cupped hands, at the
6518beginning of a conversation, often meant holding a fragile idea. It made her
6519tense up even more.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
6520"There was no way any of us could have known about a second bomb," he
6521finally said.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
6522She nodded. Shifted in the hardback chair, stiff from sitting too long. She
6523wanted to stand, pace, burn off her nervous energy.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
6524"It damaged a parking garage. Almost a hundred vehicles. Dozens of
6525injuries but only two fatalities."<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
6526He said it like it was a scrape, a minor mistake. She agreed that next to
6527Oklahoma City, next to Mall of America, this one was minor, indeed.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
6528"It could have been so much worse," he said when she didn't respond.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
6529"Any leads to catching him?"<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
6530"He's like a ghost. Gone. Vanished. We think he blew up the parking garage
6531to destroy the vehicle he may have used."<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
6532"What about the black sedan?"<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
6533Kunze looked away. Stared at his hands. Glanced at her but wouldn't meet her
6534eyes.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
6535"I got the license plate number," she insisted. She had tried to look
6536up the number herself, using her security clearance and still she came up
6537short. Each time she was denied access. A reference code was given instead.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
6538"You were upset," he said, but the tone was way too gentle for Kunze.
6539"You must have remembered the number wrong. It happens. Nerves. The
6540adrenaline. Makes us transpose a number or two."<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
6541She stared at him. She knew even he didn't believe what he had just said. And
6542she couldn't help wondering if that's how it had happened in the Oklahoma City
6543case. Is that how they explained away evidence that didn't fit their theory?
6544Someone must have gotten it wrong?<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
6545"I looked up the number myself."<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
6546He didn't seem surprised.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
6547"It gave me a reference code. I don't have the clearance to track it, but
6548I think it may have been a federal government vehicle."<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
6549This time he met her eyes and held them. "Leave it alone, O'Dell. Just
6550leave it alone."<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
6551"Did you know?" she asked him.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
6552"I still don't know," he told her frankly without hesitation.
6553"And I don't want to know. Neither do you. Go home. Take some time off. Be
6554glad we saved an airport full of people from being blown to pieces."<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
6555"But the case is far from finished."<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
6556"It is for you," and again, he said it much too gently for Kunze.
6557"You're officially off the case. Too personal, considering what happened
6558with your brother."<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
6559She wanted to challenge him. Was it because it had become personal or had she
6560gotten too close to the truth? A truth Kunze seemed willing to ignore.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
6561He pushed his chair away from the table, scraping and screeching across the
6562floor and closing the subject. He stood and opened the door, dismissing her
6563before she could argue.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
6564She followed him into the hallway. Charlie Wurth and Nick Morrelli were three
6565doors down. They had just come out of their debriefing rooms. A door clicked
6566behind her. She turned around to see another agent bringing Patrick out of his
6567room. He looked exhausted and she caught him unconsciously rubbing his wrist
6568where the handcuff had bit into his skin and left a mark.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
6569The gesture brought back that feeling again, the one that took her knees out
6570from under her like a roller-coaster ride with the bottom falling out and the
6571walls spinning out of control. She thought the suitcase bomb attached to
6572Patrick's wrist had exploded. But instead, it had been the parking garage, a
6573second bomb.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
6574Within seconds after Maggie raced for the exit, the bomb squad had already cut
6575the handcuffs off of Patrick. Several more seconds and they had the suitcase
6576contained and transported it to a deserted airstrip. The lead safe container
6577prevented the wireless remote from detonating the bomb.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
6578"Congratulations," Charlie Wurth said to Kunze, offering his hand.
6579"I just heard the news."<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
6580Everyone's eyes were on Kunze and he suddenly looked a bit embarrassed by the
6581attention. Maggie figured he had received some commendation; she didn't expect
6582what came next.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
6583"A.D. Kunze is officially your new boss," Wurth said to Maggie with a
6584genuine smile.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
6585She looked to Kunze. It was true. He was nodding, trying to smile as he
6586accepted the other men's congratulations. And all the while Maggie couldn't
6587help thinking that he had sold out again.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
6588"We're finished here," Kunze said to them, ready to change the
6589subject. "I'll get someone to drive us back to the hotel or the
6590airport."<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
6591"Thanks, but Patrick and I have a ride." She was glad that she had an
6592excuse.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
6593Charlie Wurth shook Patrick's hand, then Maggie's, holding Maggie's a bit
6594longer as he said, "You come work for me anytime, Agent O'Dell. Homeland
6595Security would be honored to have you." He held her eyes and she could see
6596he meant the offer.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
6597"Thanks. I'll think about that."<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
6598She didn't look back at A.D. Kunze.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
6599Nick insisted he walk them out. Maggie led the way, stopping in the lobby.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
6600"I guess this is goodbye again," Nick said as he gave Patrick a
6601one-armed hug, that guy-thing that looked awkward but friendly. When he hugged
6602Maggie he held her close and she felt his lips brush against her cheek before
6603he released her.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
6604She checked his eyes and shouldn't have been surprised to see the sparkle had
6605dimmed. He hadn't gotten over the hurt, the disappointment. She wondered if he
6606meant this was goodbye for good.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
6607"When do you head back to Omaha?"<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
6608"I've got a flight later today. My dad's been in the hospital."<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
6609"Is he okay?"<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
6610"It's all part of the process since the stroke. Looks like he'll be home
6611for Christmas."<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
6612"Can we give you a ride?" she offered. "I rented a car this
6613morning."<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
6614"Thanks, but no. I actually have someone picking me up."<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
6615"Take care," she told him, feeling like the short phrase was
6616inadequate.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
6617As Maggie and Patrick made their way down the steps she thought she saw Jamie,
6618the blond bomb expert, parking in one of the visitor's slots out front.<br class="calibre9"/><br class="calibre9"/></p>
6619
6620<p class="calibre10"><a name="ch81"></a><strong class="calibre7">CHAPTER</strong><b class="calibre7"><br class="calibre6"/><strong class="calibre7">81</strong></b></p>
6621
6622<p class="MsoNormal1">Maggie dropped Patrick off at
6623the hotel after they had lunch at The Rose and Crown. She had a couple of
6624errands to run before their evening flight to Washington, D.C.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
6625She had typed the addresses into the rental car's navigation system and let it
6626guide her while her mind raced off in other directions. A.D. Kunze was
6627satisfied to leave some unanswered questions in exchange for the official title
6628he was only supposed to hold as interim. He'd done it before after Oklahoma
6629City. His conscience had stumbled when he confided as much to her, handing off
6630his own debriefing file. So what happened? Maggie wondered if maybe it simply
6631got easier each time you sold a chunk of your soul.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
6632Was he setting up CAP to take the fall from the very beginning? Would Chad
6633Hendricks and Tyler Bennett get blamed for blowing up Mall of America and
6634killing what now amounted to forty-three innocent people? And although there
6635were no cutaways, no scapegoats to blame for Phoenix, Kunze hadn't stopped
6636local law enforcement from conducting a search for two young white males,
6637possibly college students, who were suspected in stealing the now incinerated
6638Chevy TrailBlazer.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
6639And what could Maggie do? She was officially off the case.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
6640Late last night when sleep wouldn't come, she had pored over more documents,
6641more files and news articles, Congressional amendments and proposals. She had
6642hoped A.D. Kunze would be willing to hear her out. She hadn't realized he had
6643already made up his own mind.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
6644After leaving the FBI building, she'd made several phone calls going only on
6645hunches, calling in a favor and counting on a promise. Not much, certainly not
6646enough to bet an entire career on.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
6647She found herself back downtown, back on Washington Avenue, less than four
6648blocks away from the FBI building.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
6649Charlie Wurth was waiting for her in the lobby.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
6650"You sure you want to do this?" he asked her as they went through the
6651security checkpoint.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
6652"Absolutely. But I'll understand if you've changed your mind."<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
6653"<i class="calibre8">Au contraire, cheri.</i> I figure I owe you one. Besides, I got my job
6654by being a rabble-rouser. But do you suppose our friend may have changed his
6655mind?"<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
6656"He said he'd meet us here." Even as she said it Maggie wasn't sure
6657it was a promise that would be kept.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
6658They took the elevator and rode in silence. Now with their coats over their
6659arms, Maggie noticed that Wurth had changed from this morning into a steel-blue
6660suit with a lemon-yellow shirt and orange necktie. It made her navy blue suit
6661look bland and official. Shoulder to shoulder, they marched down the hallway to
6662the set of office suites at the end.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
6663"Hello. Do you have an appointment today?" a young woman asked as
6664they walked around the huge reception desk, ignoring her and going directly to
6665the open doorway behind the desk.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
6666"Excuse me," she said, trying to stop them.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
6667"It's okay," Senator Foster said from inside the office. "Come
6668on in, Deputy Director Wurth, Agent O'Dell." He stood up behind his
6669marble-topped desk and waved them in. "So glad to see you're back safe and
6670sound."<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
6671"Actually we have some questions to ask you." Wurth was cool and
6672calm. "About the bill you're cosponsoring among other things."<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
6673During Maggie's frenetic search through Internet documents she discovered that
6674Senator Foster was one of the cosponsors of a Homeland Security bill with a
6675hefty price tag, due to Congress before the holidays. The same bill Kunze had
6676mentioned that would elevate security requirements in airports, shopping
6677complexes and sports stadiums. The one Nick had said would send federal funds
6678to Phoenix.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
6679"Certainly," Senator Foster said. His fingers smoothed his silver
6680hair while Maggie looked for any sign of him being nervous or anxious. He had
6681the role of distinguished down pat.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
6682Wurth nodded to Maggie, his own sign for her to take the reins.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
6683"We know you helped him get away."<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
6684"Excuse me?" There was maybe a flash of surprise. Nothing more.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
6685"The Project Manager. You had a government-issued car pick him up. Tough
6686to trace. A lot of security codes in place but we were able to do it."<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
6687He was shaking his head, a grin—or maybe a grimace—on his face.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
6688"That's ridiculous. I had my government-issued jet fly you to Phoenix, but
6689I don't know anything about a car. Do your superior officers know you two are
6690here making these wild accusations?"<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
6691"We know about your secret organization." Wurth took his turn.
6692"We're getting a list of all the businessmen and politicians."<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
6693"This is absurd. I'll have you both shoving paperwork next week. I'm
6694calling security."<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
6695Senator Foster reached for his phone but stopped. His eyes widened as he stared
6696between their shoulders. Maggie glanced back to see Henry Lee in the doorway.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
6697He had shown up, after all. Kept his promise.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
6698"It's over, Allan," he said. "It's time to come clean."<br class="calibre9"/><br class="calibre9"/></p>
6699
6700<p class="calibre10"><a name="ch82"></a><strong class="calibre7">CHAPTER</strong><b class="calibre7"><br class="calibre6"/><strong class="calibre7">82</strong></b></p>
6701
6702<p class="MsoNormal1"><i class="calibre8">Monday evening</i><br class="calibre6"/><i class="calibre8">Minneapolis-St. Paul International Airport</i><br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
6703Patrick started to yawn, caught himself just as Maggie noticed.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
6704"Maybe we should have waited for a morning flight. We haven't had much
6705sleep. We're both exhausted," she told him.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
6706"Hey, neither of us is piloting the plane. We'll be fine."<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
6707They'd been sitting at their gate for maybe twenty minutes. It felt like hours.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
6708"And it's okay if you want to sleep the whole flight."<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
6709He raised an eyebrow at her.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
6710"Sorry," she said. "I'm a bit of a nervous flyer."<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
6711"Really?"<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
6712She nodded.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
6713"We're in first class. Maybe a glass of wine?"<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
6714He wanted to kick himself even before she shook her head. <i class="calibre8">Stupid</i>. He
6715knew she didn't drink, couldn't drink. <i class="calibre8">Whatever</i>. He had to admit he felt
6716a bit fried. Still running on adrenaline. Looked like Maggie was, too.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
6717"Do you ever get used to it?" he asked her. "I keep thinking about
6718that guy being out there somewhere."<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
6719"Sometimes they get away." She shrugged but he saw her absentmindedly
6720touch her jacket where her gun and shoulder holster usually sat just underneath
6721the fabric. She had to check the gun for the flight. Looked like she missed it.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
6722"Criminals don't change just because they got away," she told him.
6723"Typically it emboldens them, makes them a little cocky, sometimes
6724reckless. Maybe he'll get caught for speeding or a broken taillight. Timothy
6725McVeigh was stopped outside of Perry, Oklahoma, by a state trooper, only hours
6726after the bombing. All because his car was missing a tag."<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
6727Patrick listened but he wasn't sure he believed the Project Manager would ever
6728put himself into a situation like that. He couldn't get the man's eyes out of
6729his mind, that dark blue that seemed to pierce you and pin you down. He'd tried
6730to sleep but couldn't do it without the guy showing up, grinning at him as he
6731slipped the handcuffs onto Patrick's wrist. Sometimes the bomb actually went
6732off and blasted Patrick awake.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
6733He figured it was post-traumatic stress. It'd wear off in a couple of days,
6734maybe a week.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
6735That's when he saw him.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
6736Patrick recognized the walk, shoulders back, chest out, that same military
6737stature. His head swiveled from side to side. Patrick's heart started thumping.
6738<i class="calibre8">Jesus! It wasn't possible. Was it?</i> His hair was still blond, that same
6739bristle cut. He even wore the same golf shirt, navy jacket, khaki trousers and
6740leather loafers. He dragged a black Pullman.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
6741"It's him," he whispered to Maggie.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
6742She looked up and he tried to point him out using only his chin and eyes. He
6743could feel her stiffen beside him.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
6744"Is it possible? Would he do that?"<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
6745"You stay here."<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
6746She stood slowly, digging her badge out of her jacket. She flipped it open,
6747tucking one flap into her pocket and letting the badge show. Then she started
6748in his direction.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
6749Patrick couldn't keep his eyes off the man. He could only see a profile of his
6750face. He wanted to get a glimpse of the eyes. He stood up and started to trail
6751along only on the opposite side. Maggie kept glancing over at Patrick as if
6752asking for reassurance. He only nodded. She was following behind him, three
6753people in between.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
6754The guy was making his way toward one of the ramps to another terminal. If he
6755got into a crowd going the same way they'd lose him. Patrick remembered how
6756slick the guy was in Phoenix. In front of him one minute and behind him the
6757next.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
6758Maggie closed the gap between them. Ten, maybe fifteen more feet and he'd turn
6759onto the ramp, into a crowd of travelers. Patrick watched her say something to
6760the man. He stopped but before he could turn around Maggie grabbed the back of
6761his jacket collar and shoved him against the wall. She had one of his arms
6762twisted up behind him and then she yelled for security.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
6763Everything stopped. Two security officers had their weapons drawn. Both of them
6764pointing directly at Maggie.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
6765"I'm FBI." Patrick heard her yell at them, sticking out her hip with
6766the badge flapping from the jacket pocket while one of her hands twisted the
6767man's arm behind his back and her other hand hung onto his jacket collar.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
6768In seconds more security officers converged on the area, holding back
6769travelers. Three more joined the two. One had grabbed Maggie's badge and was
6770examining it. Two of them pried the guy out of Maggie's hands. They had him up
6771against the wall and were patting him down. No one touched the Pullman.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
6772Maggie waved for Patrick to come over, pointing him out to one of the security
6773officers. He elbowed his way through the crowd that had grown around him. His
6774knees felt a bit wobbly. His heart hadn't stopped banging. He made his way to
6775Maggie's side, just as they pulled the guy away from the wall and turned him to
6776face Patrick.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
6777His heart dropped to his feet as he finally looked the guy in the eyes.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
6778"It's not him," Patrick said.<br class="calibre9"/><br class="calibre9"/></p>
6779
6780<p class="calibre10"><a name="bm01"></a><strong class="calibre7">EPILOGUE</strong></p>
6781
6782<p class="MsoNormal1"><i class="calibre8">Sunday morning, December 24</i><br class="calibre6"/><i class="calibre8">Newburgh Heights, Virginia</i><br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
6783"Your decorations are incredible," Julia Racine said as Maggie led
6784her into the kitchen. Racine stopped when she saw Gwen and Tully, especially
6785Tully, his sleeves rolled up, a red "Grill Baby Grill" apron tied
6786around him. He didn't look up from the sugar cookie shaped like a reindeer that
6787he was frosting.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
6788"Don't even say it," he warned, still not a glance up as he carefully
6789swirled around the antlers. "Where did Patrick disappear? He's the one who
6790got me into this."<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
6791"He's out back with Emma and Rebecca," Maggie said, glancing at her
6792backyard from the kitchen window.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
6793The three of them were throwing snowballs for Harvey to catch. For a minute she
6794had an odd sense of déjà vu, another reminder of the day after Thanksgiving and
6795being pulled away from a houseful of friends. She caught herself taking a deep
6796breath.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
6797"Maybe they can talk her into going to the University of New Haven,"
6798Tully said.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
6799"Still no decisions as to where she wants to go?"<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
6800"Too many distractions."<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
6801Maggie decided to leave it alone. It hadn't been three months since Tully's
6802daughter Emma had to deal with her father and her mother being the target of a
6803madman. It would take time. Just like it would take time for Patrick.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
6804He and Rebecca had driven down from Connecticut, arriving yesterday to spend
6805the holidays with Maggie and Harvey. Last night he confessed to her—after
6806Rebecca had gone to bed—that he still had nightmares about the Project Manager,
6807handcuffing him to a bomb. She should have had an answer for him. She had gone
6808through the same thing many times, different killers invading her sleep. All
6809she could tell him was that it would take time. That's all she had to offer.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
6810Despite her efforts, along with Charlie Wurth's and Henry Lee's, the so-called
6811secret organization had managed to close ranks and board up doors around
6812itself. It would take additional months to gather evidence and bring charges.
6813Senator Foster was still being investigated, resigning his seat before being
6814officially tossed out of the Senate. However, Senator Foster's cosponsor pushed
6815through the Homeland Security bill with little opposition. In the wake of two
6816bombings, it became the patriotic thing to do. And Henry Lee would spend
6817Christmas with his wife and grandson, his testimony securing his freedom.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
6818As for the Project Manager, how could Maggie tell Patrick not to worry? The man
6819had vanished.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
6820The doorbell rang again. Maggie left her guests in the kitchen and made her way
6821down the hall to the entrance. She opened the door to find Benjamin Platt, his
6822white West Highland terrier, Digger, up under one arm and his other arm raised,
6823his hand holding a piece of mistletoe over his head.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
6824"Merry Christmas!"<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
6825Without missing a beat, Maggie petted Digger and gave the dog a kiss on his
6826head.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
6827Ben laughed and shook his head. "This dog always gets more action than I
6828do."<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
6829He stepped inside and put Digger down to scamper off in the direction of
6830voices.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
6831"Not quite the chick magnet you thought he'd be, huh?"<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
6832She helped him take his coat off and while she was behind him she whispered in
6833his ear, "You don't need a dog or mistletoe."<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
6834The look in his eyes was enough to send a flutter through her.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
6835Patrick interrupted. "We ready to go?"<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
6836"You're leaving?" Ben asked. "I just got here."<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
6837"We'll be back in about an hour," Maggie told him as Patrick took
6838Ben's coat from Maggie and replaced it with her own.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
6839"She's taking me tree hunting," Patrick told him.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
6840"We're going to bring back the most magical Christmas tree in the
6841field."<br class="calibre9"/><br class="calibre9"/></p>
6842
6843<p class="calibre10"><a name="bm02"></a><strong class="calibre7">AUTHOR'S
6844NOTE</strong></p>
6845
6846<p class="MsoNormal1">After the Oklahoma City bombing
6847there were at least twenty witnesses who insisted they saw a "third
6848terrorist" or "John Doe #2" with Timothy McVeigh at different
6849times and in different places, but they always described him with the same
6850physical characteristics. Over half of those witnesses gave this description
6851even before the now infamous sketch had been completed. All of the assertions
6852I've made about a third terrorist conspiracy are not my own. Some people,
6853including Timothy McVeigh's first attorney, still believe the mysterious John
6854Doe #2 may have been the actual mastermind. No one, however, seems to know what
6855happened to him.<br class="calibre9"/><br class="calibre9"/></p>
6856
6857<p class="calibre10"><a name="bm03"></a><strong class="calibre7">ACKNOWLEDGMENTS</strong></p>
6858
6859<p class="MsoNormal">This past year and a half my family has been gathering way
6860too often at hospitals, providing the writer in me with more than enough
6861research material. Here's to the crew: Bob and Tracy Kava, Nancy and Jim
6862Tworek, Kenny and Connie Kava and Patricia Kava.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
6863Naming characters is often a unique process for most authors. Only on rare
6864occasions have I used a real person's name for one of my characters. This novel
6865is the exception. Thanks go to the following:<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
6866Joanne Ceimo for allowing me to use both her sons' names, David and Chris
6867Ceimo. Chris actually does own an English pub called The Rose and Crown, only
6868you'll find it in Phoenix, Arizona, not Minneapolis.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
6869Ray Kunze—so you're not a headless, rotting corpse, after all. And no, I don't
6870think you dress like a bouncer at a private nightclub.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
6871Lee Dixon and his new grandson, Henry Lee Dixon. I haven't met the latter yet,
6872but I'm sure he's as lovable and ornery as his grandfather.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
6873Also special thanks to:<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
6874Leigh Ann Retelsdorf—all the questions helped…really they did…okay, maybe not
6875in the beginning, but eventually they did.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
6876Faith Cotton—for being my eyes by providing all the fantastic photos of Mall of
6877America.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
6878Frank Tripp at Alegent Health Wellness Center for answering questions about
6879commercial dryers.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
6880And of course, Sharon Car, Marlene Haney, Sandy Rockwood and Patti
6881El-Kachouti—for your patience, your friendship and your reminders that there is
6882life outside of writing books.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
6883My unwavering respect and heartfelt gratitude to my incredible team:<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
6884Linda McFall, my editor and grace under pressure;<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
6885Amy Moore-Benson, my agent extraordinaire;<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
6886And Deb Carlin, my peace of mind, always.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
6887A very special thank-you to the booksellers, book buyers and librarians across
6888the country for mentioning my novels.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
6889Last and most importantly, to all you faithful readers—I know there's plenty of
6890competition for your time, your entertainment and for your dollars. I thank you
6891for continuing to choose my novels.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/><a name="cop01"></a><img border="0" width="26" height="34" id="_x0000_i1027" src="logo.png" class="calibre5"/><br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
6892ISBN: 978-1-4268-4058-6<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
6893BLACK FRIDAY<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
6894Copyright © 2009 by S. M. Kava.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
6895All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or
6896utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic,
6897mechanical or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including xerography,
6898photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system,
6899is forbidden without the written permission of the publisher, MIRA Books, 225
6900Duncan Mill Road, Don Mills, Ontario, Canada M3B 3K9.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
6901This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either
6902the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously, and any
6903resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events
6904or locales is entirely coincidental.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
6905MIRA and the Star Colophon are trademarks used under license and registered in
6906Australia, New Zealand, Philippines, United States Patent and Trademark Office
6907and in other countries.<br class="calibre6"/><br class="calibre6"/>
6908www.MIRABooks.com</p>
6909
6910</div>
6911
6912</body>
6913</html>