He continued, “Oh, another thing. The phone has a timer on it. Once it starts counting down, you have all of thirty seconds to warn everyone to get as far away from you as they can. I’m sure there’ll be some speculation that the suicide bomber had a change of heart. Of course it won’t matter to you. You’ll be dead.” His smile returned. “You should never have started trying to prove the explosion was a bomb.”
He took out a knife and cut the duct tape holding my wrist together. “You’ll have to undo your ankles yourself.” They had taped my ankles after we reached the platform and they saw that no one was close. I think it was to give them time to get a safe distance away in case I did something rash.
He stepped back and nodded at Bednarik, who let go of my arms. As I bent down to free my ankles, they both hurried away. By the time I was able to walk, they were out of sight, but I was sure they were monitoring me, probably through the phone. I felt another surge of weakness and forced myself to take control again.
The platform and bridge were still empty, and I knew the right thing to do was set off the bomb while no one was close, but I was not ready to die yet. Yeah, I was scared – terrified actually, but if there was any way out of this mess, I was going to find it and nail those bastards.
I started walking around while I checked out my situation, staying as far away as I could from the few people who were at the station. I opened my coat and studied the phone, which they had placed directly over my heart. It actually gave me hope that I could disable the bomb. That location would keep an expert marksman from all but a last ditch effort to shoot out the phone and me with it. A third pair of wires running out of the phone dashed that hope. The phone was wired with a Deadman lead. Disconnecting the wrong wire would set off the bomb.
I started to trace the wires to the Deadman, but a voice from the phone said, “Ah, ah.” That confirmed they were watching me. My heart sank, but I kept walking.
Why were they doing this other than for revenge? But Gardner had answered that. I was carrying a terrorist bomb. That meant they would wait for a lot of people to show up before setting it off. I had to do something before that happened. The trouble was I still couldn’t think of anything. I continued to work my way around the station, looking for any idea that gave me a chance of getting out alive or at least not taking other people with me.
Before long people started to trickle into the terminal. It was getting close to rush hour, and I was running out of time. I peered around anxiously. Approaching the men’s room, I noticed two things: only a few men had entered it, and there was a blue and white sign that said they were testing the cell phone suppression. It stirred up an idea. If I went in there, it would cut off the trigger phone connection, but would it set off the Deadman switch?
I raced inside the restroom. Three men stared at me with their mouths open. I glanced down at the phone. My God, it was counting down. If I couldn’t save myself, at least I wasn’t going to take anyone else with me. I shouted, “Get out of here now! I’m wearing a bomb and it’s going off in 27 seconds. Go! Now!”
I unbuttoned my coat and dropped it to the floor. Their faces went white, and all three raced for the exit.
I suppressed the panic welling up in me. I had one option: get out of the vest and run. The vest was held closed by plastic latches. With fumbling fingers I opened the straps, being careful not to detach any of the wires. I had all the straps open, but the wires were woven across the opening in the vest. It had only opened a little. The phone said 15 seconds.
Sweating profusely, I reached both hands across to the opposite shoulder and gripped the top of the vest. I began pulling it straight up. Half way up one of the wires caught on a blouse button. Ten seconds. I leaned over from the waist and shook. The wire was still caught. Seven seconds. I shook again. The wire came loose, but I was out of time. Five seconds. I yanked the vest off and threw it as hard as I could toward the rear stall. I felt like I was running in slow motion for the exit, counting down the seconds. As I reached the door, I saw the flash. I dove to the side and skidded across the floor. Before I even came to a stop, the blast erupted from the opening, hammering my senses. Pieces of the restroom wall flew all around me.
I lay there stunned. When my head had cleared some, I raised it and looked around. I was still alive, and thank God, the men from the restroom had made sure everyone else was far enough away that no one had been injured. I did see several people shaking their heads and cupping their hands behind their ears. Then I noticed that all I could hear was the ringing in my ears.
Four uniformed policemen came running up. I could see them shooing people away, but I still couldn’t hear more than muted noises. Two of the cops approached me, guns drawn. I decided that staying down was my best bet. One of them holstered her gun and helped me to my feet, while the other covered her. She said something, but it was so muffled I couldn’t understand it. I shook my head and put a hand behind my ear. Then I spread my hands in the universal gesture of “beats me” shrug. I said, “Speak slowly. I’ll try to lip read.”
They cuffed me, which I had half expected. They had no way of knowing whether I was a terrorist who had chickened out instead of an involuntary participant. As the female cop – her badge said “Hancock” – was putting the cuffs on I managed to point out tape residue on my wrist. She nodded but put the cuffs on anyway. She patted me down, but Bednarik and Gardner had emptied my pockets and taken my watch and phone. She mouthed, “Sorry.” At least I think she mouthed it. I didn’t hear anything but the ringing in my ears, not even a muffled sound.
I watched as the police interviewed the three men from the restroom. I couldn’t make out much of what was said, but I got the impression they were telling what really happened. And my hearing was gradually coming back as they spoke.
Officer Hancock pulled out a notepad and mouthed, “What’s your name?”
I tried to speak in a normal tone of voice. “Samantha Pederson.”
Hancock put her index finger against her lips, indicating I didn’t need to be so loud. “Can you tell me what happened?” she asked.
I lowered my volume. “I can try. Is my voice okay now?”
She nodded, so I rattled off an abbreviated version of what had happened from the kidnapping to getting out of the vest. As I talked my hearing got better, but I realized I had a terrible headache. Was it the concussion or did this blast set it off?
As I was finishing, two men in plain clothes came running up. The tall one flashed a badge, Homeland Security. By then I could hear him well enough that with lip reading I could understand him. “I’m Agent Walker and this is Agent Duffy. We’re here about a terrorist bombing. Is this the suspect?” He looked directly at me.
Hancock appeared stunned. “Yes, but …”
Walker interrupted. “We’ll take over now. You and these other cops secure the evidence. Call me if you find anything significant.” He handed her a card.
I couldn’t help myself. “Dammit, I’m not a suspect. I’m the victim here. And what the hell? The city police are part of Homeland. This is in their jurisdiction. They don’t need some glory hound getting in the way and muddying the water. Someone tried to kill me by strapping me into a vest lined with explosives. I am not a terrorist. I want the bastards who did this as much as you do – more, and I know who they are.”
Walker sneered, “Hey, that makes a good story. You’re not the bomber; you’re the victim. … I don’t buy it. You are right that the police are part of Homeland. I bet you figure you can con them into letting you go. You’re coming with us.” He grabbed my arm and pulled me after him.
I looked back at Hancock. “Call Homeland and get in touch with Agent Phil Kaminski. Tell him these clowns dragged me off.”
When he heard Phil’s name, Walker hesitated briefly, then pulled me harder. “Come on.”
Chapter 39
Gloria Rodriguez: “We’re told that Police Captain Leonard Hammond, of the DC police public information office is approaching the
lectern so we’re going live for his briefing.”
Hammond: “I have a brief statement to read and then I’ll take your questions. In my opinion, we dodged a bullet on this one. At 5:11 this morning a bomb was set off in the men’s restroom of the L’Enfant Plaza Metro station. The woman wearing the bomb warned the other occupants in the restroom in time for them all to move to a safe distance. The woman was able to shed the explosives vest and get out of the restroom before the bomb went off. At this time it is not clear whether she had intended to blow herself up or was forced to wear the bomb, as was the Varnum Church bomber. There were no casualties or significant injuries in today’s bombing although one bystander in the Metro station suffered a heart attack. That individual was taken to Mercy Hospital where he is reported to be in fair condition.
“Questions?”
Noon Report – Channel 6
Day 17, 7:30AM
Thirty minutes later I had given up trying to get Walker to understand. By then we had reached the Homeland office building. Walker dragged me roughly out of their car and into the building. Duffy followed behind. My hearing had pretty much returned even though my ears were still ringing. I heard Duffy complaining, “She’s right. This should be police jurisdiction. If she was a terrorist who chickened out, why would she warn everyone and still detonate the bomb?”
Walker ignored him.
They force-marched me to an interrogation room and cuffed me to the table. Before they walked out the door, I snidely reminded Walker, “You took Officer Hancock’s handcuffs without giving her a receipt.” Walker slammed the door behind him, leaving me alone.
I was mad as hell. I had just spent several hours of sheer terror, and I didn’t need a grandstander or anyone else trying to bully me. I was ready to push back, and Walker had just become my target.
As I expected, they left me alone for a long time. It seemed like hours. I kept looking at where my watch should have been and getting madder. I was really boiling by the time the door finally opened. I bit my tongue to keep from saying anything as they entered the room.
Walker plopped down in the chair on the opposite side of the table. “If you tell me the truth, we might be able to make it easier on you.”
It wasn’t easy to respond politely, but I needed to take command of the situation. “I’ll be happy to tell you the truth … but first you have to tell me why you’re so convinced I’m a terrorist.”
Walker leaned forward so close I could smell his toothpaste. “You don’t give the orders. I do. Tell me the truth first.”
I leaned into him, and he jerked back. I raised my voice and spoke clearly. “No, you answer me first. I want to know why I’m dealing with a closed mind.”
Anger flashed across his face. “Now see here …”
I didn’t let him finish, deliberately continuing my military command voice. “Now you see here, I just lived through the most terrifying experience of my life, and I’m in no mood to play your stupid games. I want to know why you are so intent on accusing me.” It stopped him dead.
He looked confused. He tried to reestablish control – as if he’d ever had it. “You’re not in charge here.” His snarl came out wimpy. He stood and put both hands on the table to lean into me.
If I hadn’t been so angry, I’d have laughed. “If you’re trying to intimidate me, it won’t work. Sit down.” He hesitated, looking even more confused, and then sat. I continued, “I gave you a reasonable request. Answer my question, and I’ll tell you everything I know. Why are you so intent on accusing me?”
I could tell he wasn’t used to having his prisoners talk back to him unless they were whining or growling. I waited, a small, forced smile on my face.
He gave up. “We got an anonymous call that a terrorist wearing a vest with explosives on it was in the Metro station.” That explained why the response to the blast was so fast. Clearly Bednarik or Gardner had made the call as soon as I ducked into the men’s room.
“I see,” I replied seriously. “And you believed that?”
He looked down. “It’s my job,” he said quietly.
“And you saw an opportunity to show how capable you are.” I didn’t wait for a reply. “You’ve had a lot of time since you put me in here. Did you by any chance look at the video of the platform area?”
“Yes.”
I knew I had him. Now I was going to attack his logic. “And did you happen to notice I was wearing a coat?”
He hesitated. “I did. What’s that got to do …?”
I cut him off. “Tell me, how would anyone know I was wearing an explosive vest under that coat?”
“I … uh … Because … because they helped you put it on,” he fumbled.
“But that would make them terrorists, wouldn’t it?” I managed to suppress a satisfied smile.
“Yes, but …” He stopped.
“Could it be that they forced me into that vest and then called you to make sure you knew about it? I mean, why else would they be anonymous?”
He digested that but didn’t seem to share my grasp of the situation. When he finally spoke, he was trying to take control. I had gotten what I wanted – I’d opened his mind a little, so I let him have his say. “Look, I lived up to my part of the bargain. Now, tell me your story.”
“Certainly,” I said, making a point of relaxing into the chair despite how uncomfortable it felt. “When I got out of my car last night, two men jumped me. I tried to fight them off, but they had caught me unprepared. The big guy – Bednarik – held me down while the other one – Gardner – bound me with duct tape.” I continued with what had happened, until I got to where Gardner cut the tape off my wrists. “Those were the two men in the video. I don’t know if you could see Gardner cutting the tape, but you should certainly have seen the tape was on before that and off afterwards.” I held up my wrists to show the left over tape adhesive. “And there was the tape around my ankles. I bet you could see them putting that on me in the video. If I was a terrorist, why would my ankles be taped? I had to take it off before I could move.”
Just then Duffy came into the room. “Stanley, the caller is back on the phone. He wants to talk to you.”
I looked at Walker and said, “Walker, wait.” He stopped. I continued, “Don’t ask him how he knew I was wearing the vest. Ask him to describe what he saw.”
He hesitated. “Why?”
“I’ll bet he describes more than he could possibly see. When he does, you might ask him why my ankles were taped.”
He nodded, and they both left.
My spirits rose a little. Walker finally seemed to be taking me seriously
A few minutes later, Duffy came back. “Stanley was called to a meeting with our boss. Before he left, he told me to let you know you were right.”
“So you can let me go?” I glanced at my handcuffs.
He looked genuinely apologetic. “Sorry, I don’t have the authority to do that, but I can get you out of here.”
He could and did. Fifteen minutes later I was ushered into a holding cell after being in-processed. It reminded me of trouble I had gotten into as a kid – a practical joke that went wrong. The police who were my target back then made a point of scaring me good before turning me over to my folks with a warning.
Before he left, he asked, “It’s lunch time. Can I bring you something?”
The tension that had kept me going was wearing off, and I was starting to sag, but I was hungry. “As long as it isn’t bread and water.” My attempt at humor fell flat.
He returned with a sandwich and a bottle of water. “Sorry, that’s all they could give me.” I laughed half-heartedly and thanked him.
I was ravenous and wolfed down the lunch. After that it was as if I were a balloon and someone had let the air out. I lay down on the cot and was instantly asleep.
Loud voices pulled me out of a deep sleep. It took me a few seconds to recognize the voices and realize where I was. One voice belonged to Walker and the other was Phil who was saying, “S
he’s my partner. We’re working on the Reid bombing that was on television several days ago, and she is definitely not a bomber.”
I swung my feet of the cot and into a sitting position. As I glanced toward the door, it opened and Phil led the way in. He nodded at me. “Are you okay?”
I felt a flash of anger, mostly at Walker. It brought me fully awake. “Yeah, just annoyed. Where were you?” I tried not to sound too accusatory, after all he was rescuing me.
“Sorry I took so long getting here. Stanley neglected to log in to an interrogation room, and they in-processed you as Jane Doe. I had to drag Stanley out of a meeting to find out where you were.”
Without looking me in the eye, Walker sputtered, “I was in a hurry, and she didn’t have a lick of ID on her.”
Phil offered me a hand. “Let’s get you out of here.”
I peered at Walker. “No hard feelings, Stanley. After all, you were only doing your job. Oh, and don’t forget to take those handcuffs back to Officer Hancock.” I followed Phil out the door.
Chapter 40
“DC police now report that Homeland Security has taken the bomber from the explosion in the L’Enfant Plaza Metro station this morning into custody. Police further report that the surveillance videos from this morning strongly suggest that the bomber was forced to participate rather than acting voluntarily.”
– 6:27 AM – WSKY-FM
Day 17, 4:00PM
As we walked out the door, Phil asked, “Good God, Sam, what happened this time?”
I almost laughed. I guess being a bodyguard for me was no easy task. “It’s a long story. Let’s get on the road first.”
“Okay, where to?”
“My condo. Gardner threw my stuff on the passenger seat of my TR-6. I’m hoping it’s all still there.”
Damage Control Page 27