The Heart Heist

by Alyssa Kress

  "I know we don't, but goddam it, I was scared." He pulled her into his arms and they tightened around her with suffocating force. Kerrin closed her eyes as the reality of him, too, began to seep in.

  "We'd thought you'd gone to Mexico," she managed to breathe out.

  "I don't know why everyone thinks I have this hankering to visit Mexico," Gary complained. She felt his lips in her hair.

  "It was a natural assumption. Gary, you should have told somebody what was going on."

  "I did." His hold on her relaxed. "I told Marty, but something seems to have happened to him."

  Kerrin leaned back and looked into Gary's shadowed face. It was full of concern. A shamed relief flowed through her. Gary hadn't lied, he hadn't left them in the lurch. She should have known that, believed it. This was the man she'd chosen, after all. "Something did happen," she now informed Gary. "Car accident."

  "Christ." He looked up from her face, staring past her while his concern transformed into something hard and rageful. "That was no accident." Letting out a breath, he looked down at her again. "Maybe you'd better tell me now, sweetheart: just who is Mr. Holiday?"

  Kerrin was aghast. "You mean you don't know?"

  "Would I ask if I already knew?"

  She could tell he was losing patience. "It's Victor, Gary. Victor Bothmann."

  He raised his brows. "Your old boyfriend?"

  "Oh, for the last time, he was never my boyfriend!"

  "Close enough," Gary snickered.

  "For heaven's sake ‑‑ " The tension was telling on her, particularly as it didn't seem to be affecting Gary in the slightest. No, he could stand here joking with her. "Gary, I really think we ought to go after him."

  "'We?'" Gary queried. "Who said anything about 'we?'"

  "I did." She was rapidly approaching the point of combustion. The man thought he could waltz in here at the last minute and start calling the shots ‑‑

  "Oh no, sweetheart, you aren't going anywhere near this."

  "The hell I'm not." Kerrin was about to elaborate on this theme when Gary hauled her close against him and crushed her mouth with his. He made heat rush into her and all the aching longing of two months without him.

  "Oh, Gary, Gary," she cried softly, as he finally lifted from his bruising kiss to trail his mouth down her jaw.

  "I don't suppose," Gary murmured against her ear, "I've managed to convince you not to come with me."

  Kerrin shook her head in a definite negative. This was her town and what's more, he was her man. She wasn't leaving him again, no matter what he told her to do.

  Gary sighed. "I was afraid of that."

  ~~~

  How Gary could have found the tunnel underneath the river was beyond Kerrin's ken. The opening was hidden by a boulder and some serendipitous shrubs. Across the star-spangled river lay the gently humming DWP plant, apparently serene beneath its flood of lights.

  Gary held her back at the tunnel entrance. "Let me go first, and whatever you do ‑‑ " He closed his eyes, " ‑‑ don't use that gun of yours."

  "My gun!" Kerrin covered her mouth with one hand. "I left it in my desk drawer at school!"

  "Thank God for small miracles," Gary breathed, crouching to step into the tunnel. "Now don't make a sound."

  The tunnel was plenty big enough to crawl through, for which Kerrin was grateful. The absolute darkness in which they found themselves was bad enough. The earth was soft and wet under her hands and knees as she followed Gary in the all-encompassing darkness. It was much too much like a grave.

  After they'd been crawling for what seemed like forever, a dim light started to filter around Gary's bulk. The DWP. Gary halted at the end of the tunnel and turned back to press a finger against her lips. Kerrin nodded that she understood.

  As it turned out, Victor never heard them come up behind him. He was working near a set of shiny metal pipes, a collection that bore a faint resemblance to a church organ. He was twisting a wire in the center of a contraption that seemed to be part electronics and part bags of a bulky substance wrapped in yellow paper.

  Gary stopped just out of striking range and pulled a revolver from his deep coverall pocket. He let the sound of the safety being pulled echo in the large space. "Good evening, Dr. Bothmann."

  Victor turned around with a violent start. Both Gary and Kerrin braced for the worst.

  "Oh, hell," Victor pronounced, in his best bored society manner. He leaned back against the pipes, beside his bomb. He was still dressed in a pinstripe suit and tie, as though he were on his way to a faculty meeting and not to set up an explosive device. He regarded Gary in disgust. "I thought you were back in prison."

  Gary's fingers flexed over the trigger of the gun. "You know I'm from the joint?"

  "Oh!" Victor rolled his eyes heavenward. "Doesn't everybody? Kerrin made a point of announcing the fact."

  Kerrin gasped. "That's a lie!"

  "I know." Gary clenched his jaw. "He wanted to break my concentration, see if I'd turn to look at you. Not bad, Victor," Gary continued thoughtfully. "Not bad at all. Okay, now, the first thing is you're going to take apart this mother. Then we're going for a little walk together."

  Victor crossed his arms over his chest. "And why should I do that?"

  "Because," Gary replied evenly, "I have the gun."

  Victor eyed said instrument with disdain. "You'd never use it on me. Besides, you kill me and you've still got the bomb to contend with. I might as well tell you, it's fully functional and ready to go."

  Gary smiled. It wasn't like any smile Kerrin had ever seen on his face. "Maybe I wouldn't kill you," he calmly agreed. "But I could break your arm. Or crack your thigh, crush your wrists, any number of creative things."

  Victor began to look less than one hundred percent confident. "You don't know how to do any of that."

  Gary raised his brows and Kerrin had the eeriest feeling Gary knew exactly how to do every single one of the tortures he'd enumerated ‑‑ probably because they'd been done to him. "Get moving," he told Victor.

  "No, Victor," spoke a new and unexpected voice. "Stay right where you are."

  Both Kerrin and Gary turned in astonishment to see Mike Rogers, the cold-faced man from the FBI. He was standing in the aisle between the series of metal pipes and the concrete block wall of the plant. In his arms was a weapon fit for Rambo. "You," he spoke to Gary. "Put the gun down. Slowly."

  Gary didn't look especially surprised to see Rogers, just very, very disgusted. He crouched to lay the gun gently on the bare concrete floor. Meanwhile Kerrin noted a very odd look pass between Victor Bothmann and Mike Rogers.

  "I've never been able to understand your stake in all of this," Gary commented, addressing the FBI agent. "I thought you guys were supposed to catch criminals, not assist them."

  Rogers, completely ignoring Gary's statement, turned to the Holiday Bomber. "You just couldn't resist, could you?" There was a wealth of bitter accusation in his tone, as well as weary resignation. Whatever emotions the man had been keeping at bay all this time were now pouring forth.

  "This is my duty," Victor returned, drawing himself up. The two men were both much taller than Gary, of a similar height, in fact.

  "I gave you a chance," Rogers complained. "I found you a fall guy, but could you leave well enough alone?"

  Victor looked astonished. "You did that, the guy from Boise? For me?"

  Rogers scowled in disgust. "Who else do you think could have pulled it off?"

  Kerrin watched in growing amazement as Victor Bothmann, the man with the perpetually sophisticated smile, began to tear up. "Gee, Dad, that must be the only nice thing you've ever done for me."

  Gary's eyes met Kerrin's with identical shock.

  "You're still my son," Rogers grumbled. "Even if your mother did manage to make you as crazy as she is."

  Gary cleared his throat. "I hate to break up this touching scene, but might I remind everyone that there's a powerful explosive device sitting here?" He gestured with his
head toward the bomb that was intertwined with the metal pipes of the pumping facility.

  Rogers seemed to come back to himself, regaining a good deal of his normally cool composure. "Oh, that's right. Victor, get back here, would you? And you," Rogers gestured with his heavy-duty machine gun at Gary. "Over there, by the pipes."

  Gary hesitated for just the barest, briefest moment. It was enough to let Kerrin know, however, that whatever Rogers had in mind, Gary didn't think it was good. Cold fear spread through her as Gary obediently stepped toward the metal pipes, closer to the bomb.

  "That's fine. Now I want you ‑‑ " Rogers pointed the muzzle of his cannon in Kerrin's direction. " ‑‑ on the other side of the device, further away from me."

  Kerrin's eyes met Gary's as she walked past him. The dangerous red tints in his dark irises were out in full force; the carnivore inside him was aroused and aching to fight. That he was holding back, Kerrin knew, was due to her presence alone. If he hadn't been afraid of endangering her, he would have damned the machine gun and taken his chances.

  "Very good," Rogers pronounced. He handed the automatic weapon to Victor. "Keep this pointed right at the girl. If the convict so much as breathes funny, she buys it."

  To his credit, Victor looked rather ill at this request. "I don't want to hurt anybody."

  "Don't worry, you won't have to. This one isn't going to make a bit of trouble." As he said this, Rogers removed a heavy set of handcuffs from his back trousers pocket. He smiled slightly at Gary. "Are you, boy?"

  Gary just glared at him. Even from a distance, Kerrin could feel the heat of his frustrated impotence. "There's no need to harm the girl," he told Rogers, his voice so hoarse it was nearly inaudible.

  "I don't intend to. Now put your hands out."

  Gary put out his hands and Rogers snapped the handcuffs over his wrists, chaining him to one of the vertical metal pipes. The sound of metal locking into metal went right through Kerrin's viscera.

  Rogers shifted over to scrutinize the bomb. "How do you start this thing?"

  "Dad ‑‑ " Victor was aghast. "The timer only gives you five minutes. That's not enough time to evacuate the town. And besides ‑‑ " He swallowed, looking at Gary. "I don't want to kill anybody."

  "Of course you don't," Rogers returned. "That's why I'm going to do it for you." Frowning, he reached toward one of many switches. "This one?"

  Miserable, Victor shook his head. "No, you have to signal the remote. It can only detonate from the remote's position. There, with that." He pointed toward a square box with an LCD dial.

  "Fine." Rogers pressed a button and the LCD display immediately lit up. All four pairs of eyes locked onto it.

  5:00 it read. Then, 4:59.

  "Okay, son, it's time for us to leave." Rogers took the gun out of Victor's hands.

  4:58 4:57

  Victor couldn't take his eyes off Gary. "What about Kerrin?"

  Rogers vouchsafed her a brief, dismissive glance. "She's free to leave."

  4:56 4:55

  "I think we ought to take the front door," Rogers told his son. He took his arm and turned him down the aisle. "And let's make it snappy."

  Gary looked after the departing duo with unspeakable hatred. Then he turned sharply toward Kerrin, who hadn't moved an inch to follow them. Red flames danced in his eyes.

  "You! Get going! Get the hell out of here!" If a voice could have cut through steel, Gary's would have.

  4:40 4:39

  But Kerrin was made of something tougher than steel. "I'm not going anywhere without you."

  4:38 4:37

  "Shit!" Gary's eyes moved upward, following the line of the thick metal pipe to which he was attached. It went straight into the solid concrete ceiling. Then he lowered his gaze, meeting her eyes with almost unbearable appeal. "Please, Kerrin, I'm begging you. Don't put your life on my score card. I've got enough black marks against me."

  4:36 4:35

  "I think it's special agent Rogers who gets the high score for black marks." Kerrin walked around the bomb and up to Gary. Her eyes lowered to the heavy-looking metal cuffs around his wrists. "Come on, hotshot, don't you know how to get out of these?"

  4:34 4:33

  Gary's expression turned incredulous. "In four and a half minutes? These babies were built to hold on to mothers like me."

  4:32 4:31

  "Well, buster, you'd better get started." Kerrin glanced at the timer display.

  "Shit," Gary repeated, near tears. His gaze went to her hairline. "Give me one of those bobby pins, then, and your nice tiny hands. I'm gonna give you a crash course on picking locks."

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  Matt sat brooding in the dark, his father's rifle cradled in his arms. He didn't know why he bothered holding the gun. All the excitement was going on down below at the DWP plant. If he thought about it for two seconds, Matt had to agree with Gary's reasoning. Tracking down a mad bomber was hardly the place for a guy who couldn't walk. A familiar helplessness washed over him, followed by a good dose of terrified guilt. The guilt was new, having started up after his discussion with Dr. Flanigan.

  He could walk again, maybe. He didn't have to sit helpless in this chair.

  Oh, but didn't he?

  He was still alive. He didn't deserve even that.

  An unusual noise startled Matt out of his grim reverie. It was a sound he'd never heard before, an excited, electronic chirping. It echoed all the way through the house, pouring out of the speakers his parents had set up in every room.

  Holy fucking cow! It was the alarm for the array. The sound pouring through the house with such triumphant joy was the signal his Dad had set up to indicate they were receiving a transmission.

  In the middle of everything else, the Hortons were getting a message from outer space!

  Matt raced through the house, his wheels barely skimming the floor. Skidding to a stop in the dining room, he stared through the wide window up toward the array, as if he were going to see a flying saucer setting down even then among the copper leaves.

  It was just a radio signal, Matt sternly reminded himself. Nothing more than that. Then his brows shot up his forehead. His heart gave a big kick against the wall of his chest.

  A radio signal!

  Every bomb Mr. Holiday had ever set off had been detonated from a remote location ‑‑ using a radio signal.

  "Oh, Jesus Christ," Matt moaned. It wasn't Columbus Day yet. This wasn't supposed to be happening. Not yet.

  But it was happening. Right up there in the array.

  Matt gave a shove to his wheels and landed at the back door. "Oh, fucking hell!" The detonator was up there in the array and he, Matt, was the only one who had any chance of getting to it. Five minutes was all he had. Five minutes was all Mr. Holiday ever gave of warning.

  Five lousy minutes. In five minutes he was going to have to get up there, find the damn thing, and then figure out how to shut it off.

  Matt began pushing himself with all his might up the hill. His lungs burned with the effort of his exertion, his heart punched at him like a sparring partner. It didn't matter, he only pushed harder.

  Five minutes to save the whole frigging town and God knew, Matt had a lousy record when it came to rescues.

  ~~~

  2:00 1:59

  Gary was swearing at Kerrin in one soft, steady stream. Interspersed with a variety of choice and unusual cuss words were a series of pleas, threats, and orders, all to the effect that she should give up and leave him to his fate.

  Her patience wearing thin as she fiddled with the bobby pin, Kerrin commenced swearing back at him. She wasn't nearly as creative about it, simply repeating the same tried and true phrases over and over. Perspiration dripped off her forehead and she had to keep blinking it out of her eyes as she struggled with the lock.

  "Forget it, sweetheart, you did your best. You might just have time to make it out of here."

  Kerrin spared a precious millisecond to glance at the clock.

&nbs
p; 1:30 1:29

  "I don't think so. This bomb looks too powerful to get far enough away in ninety seconds."

  Gary groaned and laid his forehead against the metal pipe. "I never wanted to hurt you."

  "I know that." Kerrin felt a subtle shift inside the metal lock. A spurt of hope rose inside her. "Oh, Gary, I think I got one of those thingy-ma-jiggers."

  "Tumblers?" Gary asked. "Oh, good. You only have ten more to go."

  "You're such a pessimist," Kerrin complained. "Oh God, there's another one," she exclaimed, as the second tumbler went.

  Gary looked at her. "Has it occurred to you that even if you get these off of me we'll never make it out of here?"

  1:10 1:09

  Another tumbler went. "There's the tunnel," Kerrin reminded him. "We'll have a chance in there." Yet another tumbler went. "Oh Gary, I'm halfway there. We're going to make it."

  His eyes met hers. In them she didn't see a drop of hope. Instead they were brimming with a completely different emotion.

  "Have I ever told you, Kerrin sweetheart, that I love you?"

  :60 :59

  "No, you haven't, and a fine time you pick for it, Mr. Sullivan."

  :58 :57

  "You let me know," Gary requested, "when's a better moment."

  ~~~

  Matt came to a gasping halt at the outer edge of the array. Above him, perched on a rocky outcropping some ten feet in height, stood a tripod holding a neat, spare, single-reflex camera. It was, Matt was sure, the source of the radio signal. The camera was set up to explode the bomb while simultaneously taking a picture of its destructive power.

  Ingenious.

  And also unreachable. Those ten feet might as well have been ten stories. A person needed legs to climb up the steep path that led to the camera. Matt felt as helpless as he had on that afternoon on top of Mr. Miller's barn.

  Andy Miller, his best friend, had sat at the far side of the high ridge of the roof, his fingers clenching the wood shingles. He'd only gone up there because he'd seen Matt do it the day before. But Andy wasn't quite so reckless as Matt, and he'd panicked, frozen, unable to move back over the ridge to the loft door. Matt had gone up to get him.