Every Second

by Rick Mofina

  He was joined by officials from several other agencies.

  Microphones with network and station flags were heaped before him, catching the flash of still cameras and the blinding glare of TV cameras. More than one hundred and fifty news media people had crammed into the old church. All major networks were broadcasting live and streaming online.

  As she took her seat near the front, Kate recognized faces from the New York City press corps. She spotted Nick Varner and Marv Tilden standing in the wings. Strobic was moving about freely for the best vantage point.

  After the assistant director made a round of introductions, he got down to business, reading a statement from prepared text.

  “Let me begin by saying that minutes ago we were informed that Dan, Lori and Billy Fulton, of Queens, New York, will recover from their injuries. As you know, Dan Fulton was listed in critical condition, but doctors at the hospital have advised us that in the past twelve hours, he’s shown dramatic improvement. And we’ve also been informed that all passengers injured in the explosion are expected to recover. We’re thankful for that.”

  An FBI agent then unveiled a display board showing photographs of the five suspects. The word Deceased ran under four of the pictures. The last image was an enlarged grainy image of Adam Chisolm Patterson of Chicago with the words In Custody under it.

  After letting a moment pass, the assistant director continued by listing the time line of events that began more than forty-eight hours earlier with the invasion of the Fulton family home in Roseoak Park, Queens, and ending with the deaths of four of the five suspects at Jenny’s Mountain Gas & Diner on Red Hawk Way at the edge of the Catskills.

  “As indicated, we have one suspect in custody,” the assistant director said. “This incident is detailed in the background sheets we’ve distributed to each of you here and posted online. Because we’re still prosecuting the case, you’ll appreciate that we cannot provide all information or answers in many areas at this time. Bearing that in mind, we’ll take a few questions.”

  “Nate Brewbaker, Washington Post. Can we get the latest death and injury toll?”

  “The four fatalities, all are the suspects, noted on the board. As for injuries to the tour bus passengers, we have updated our original list. We now have sixteen passengers—eleven Canadian nationals, two German nationals, and three US citizens—injured in the explosion. Three have lost legs, two have lost arms. Two have lost eyes. Those serious cases are in critical but stable condition. The others received various minor injuries. The critical ones have been sent to area trauma centers. All will recover. Some have indicated they are willing to talk to the press. This does not include the Fulton family. Dan, Lori and Billy are recovering and will make a statement at a later time. Of course, at this point, all of the victims have been removed from the scenes. Our agents have been, or will be, at hospitals to continue interviewing all victims as witnesses.”

  “Neena Perelli, New York Post. Sir, was this a terrorist plot?”

  “Yes.”

  “What’s the basis for your conclusion?”

  “One of the suspects we identified in the invasion robbery raised a flag with national security officials. Subsequent investigation linked the suspect and his associates to intercepts of chatter by known extremist groups concerning a planned attack on US soil.”

  “Chad Mortimer, FOX News. Are all the suspects American citizens? And is this a case of homegrown, or self-radicalized, terrorism?”

  “All are American citizens, yes. We believe they were self-radicalized. They expressed their views online, which attracted extremist factions overseas.”

  “Would you say they were coached and directed by those factions?”

  “Yes.”

  “Sally Langston, New York Times. Can you please address reports by Newslead and the LA Times on the connection of suspect Jerricko Blaine to Lori Fulton’s time as a California police officer? Is it true she was involved in the shooting of Blaine’s brother? As well, can you speak to the belief that their mother is associated with the extremist group known as the Young Lions?”

  “We aren’t prepared to speak to that at this time, as it is all under investigation.”

  “Are you denying the alleged links?”

  “Neither denying nor confirming. It’s all under investigation.”

  “Chad Mortimer, again with FOX. Sir, will there be US-led retaliatory military strikes against those factions overseas?”

  “I can’t speak to that. That’s for the Pentagon to address.”

  “Seymour Abrams, Associated Press. Are there locations in New York City that were being targeted for attack?”

  “We can’t name specific targets at this time. We mined a damaged laptop recovered in the explosion at the diner. So far we’ve only retrieved bits of information. It’s a difficult, painstaking process.”

  “How certain are you that there aren’t more suspects or explosives still out there?”

  “As I’ve indicated, though this is an ongoing investigation, we’re confident we have all the major players in this operation. The SWAT action and explosion at the diner was a horrific and chaotic situation. There was a lot of confusion. Fortunately, innocent casualties were minimal. Our technicians are still on the scene, but we believe we’ve stabilized the situation. However, given that this is still an ongoing investigation, we are appealing to the public, if anyone has any information concerning any part of this case, they should call the FBI or local law enforcement.”

  “Melissa Sanchez, Wall Street Journal. Were there any warnings—any signs that this was coming?”

  The assistant director hesitated, glanced at the other officials at the table, then cleared his throat.

  “I cannot discuss much detail, but as I indicated earlier, a huge number of assets and agencies worked together in a short period of time to connect a lot of what appeared to be disparate dots. They worked hard and fast to make the connections. Lives were saved because of them.” The assistant director paused. “That’s all. Thank you all very much.”

  Kate noted his final words, and, as she moved to the table to collect her recorder, she signaled to Varner that she needed to speak to him.

  “Meet me outside at the back in ten minutes,” he said.

  In that time, two networks approached Kate and requested short on-camera interviews concerning Newslead’s role in finding Lori and Billy Fulton on the riverbank in the woods. She agreed to speak to them later, then made her way to Varner, finding him near the FBI and state police helicopters. One had completed its preflight checks and started the engine.

  “I don’t have much time,” Varner said as the rotor blades began turning. “We’re going to the Albany hospital to talk to Lori Fulton.”

  “I wanted to tell you that I’m glad this all worked out, even though you were a hard-ass most of the time.”

  Varner gave her a deep, sincere smile that she liked very much.

  “It’s my job. Besides, you’re one hell of a journalist. I’ve never met anyone like you, Kate.”

  She blushed then shifted the subject to work.

  “Would you mention to Lori Fulton that I’d love to get the first interview with her?”

  “Sure, on one condition.”

  “What’s that?” She spoke louder over the chopper.

  “You agree to have coffee with me some time.”

  They smiled at each other.

  “It’s a deal, Varner.”

  85

  New York

  Kate smiled as Strobic guided the Silverado south on the Thruway, keeping it within the speed limit.

  Her story and his pictures had been filed.

  It was over.

  They were going home, and the tension melted with each passing mile, allowing Kate to relax as she watched the scudding clouds f
iltering the sunlight over the sweeping forest hills.

  “It was a helluva story,” Strobic said, smiling at her. “You did some nice work, Kate.”

  “You, too, Stan.”

  “What’re you going to do when we get back?”

  “I’m going to have a girls’ day out on the town with my daughter, my sister and friend. What about you?”

  “I’ll log my overtime and mileage, maybe get Yankees tickets. Hey—” He reached for the radio. “How about some country music? I know deep down you love it.”

  She shook her head, smiling.

  “Sure, Stan. Whatever.”

  * * *

  Dan was going to make it.

  In the hour before dawn, when he’d squeezed her hand, opened his eyes and gave her a tiny smile, Lori knew she had him back.

  Billy was going to make it, too.

  We’re going to be okay.

  Lori held on to that assurance later when Varner and Tilden arrived.

  With Valachek and a nurse nearby, Lori sat up in her bed and told the investigators everything, from the night of the invasion by the four men, to Dan’s heroic action, to her last memory of being rescued at the riverbank.

  Varner’s and Tilden’s phones vibrated with messages but they ignored them as Lori continued, telling them of her connection to Jerricko Blaine and his brother. She recounted the abduction and how the suspects intended to record their beheadings as part of the planned attacks.

  “It was all on their laptop, the targets were—the Staten Island Ferry, Times Square, Penn Station and Grand Central Terminal. They’d made martyr videos condemning the US government and Americans. They were using the money from Dan’s bank to fund other operations and had a list of homegrown radicals to share with their leaders.”

  “Hold on, Lori,” Tilden said. “You said the targets were the Staten Island Ferry, Times Square, Penn Station and Grand Central?”

  “Yes.”

  “You’re absolutely certain?”

  “Yes. I saw their file on their laptop.”

  Tilden threw a glance to Varner.

  “That’s four targets, Nick. We can only account for three IEDs.”

  * * *

  The Silverado’s headlights gleamed on the white-tiled walls of the Lincoln Tunnel.

  Strobic guided his pickup along one of the two eastbound lanes that curved under the Hudson River from New Jersey to Manhattan.

  Kate was looking at Grace and Vanessa on her phone, estimating how much longer before she’d have a few days off to spend with them.

  “So,” Strobic said, “we’ll go to the newsroom first. Wrap things up there?”

  “Yeah, let’s do that.”

  “Okay, then I’ll drive you home.”

  “Sounds great, thanks.”

  Daylight was glowing as they neared the end of the tunnel.

  * * *

  “You’re certain there were four targets?”

  “That’s right. Four,” Lori said.

  “Didn’t that trooper say he saw them carry four backpacks into the diner?” Tilden asked.

  “I thought he wasn’t sure,” Varner said.

  Tilden turned to study messages on his phone as Varner continued questioning Lori.

  “Did you see the press conference, Lori? It was broadcast live earlier this morning?” Varner asked.

  “No, I didn’t watch it.”

  “Okay, I’m going to show you some photos.”

  Varner started with a photo of Todd Dalir Ghorbani.

  “I’ve never seen him before.”

  “We’ve confirmed him as deceased at the diner. He was the bomb maker from Springfield, Massachusetts.”

  Varner showed Lori photos of Doug Gerard Kimmett.

  “Yes, that’s one of them,” Lori said.

  “He’s deceased at the diner.”

  Then he showed her photos of Jake Sebastian Spencer.

  “Yes, he’s one of them.”

  “Deceased at the diner.”

  He then showed her photos of Jerricko Titus Blaine.

  “That’s Jerricko Blaine.”

  “He’s also deceased. He detonated the IED.”

  Then he showed her the last photo, a clear picture they’d taken of Adam Chisolm Patterson while in custody.

  “Who’s that?” Lori asked.

  “Adam Chisolm Patterson of Chicago, one of the four men who abducted you.”

  Lori looked again, then shook her head.

  “No, I’ve never seen him before.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Their faces are burned into my memory. Trust me, I’m sure.”

  “Nick, look at this.” Tilden held his phone to Varner.

  The message said that the forensic techs found a finger at the scene and had obtained an impression from it. Chicago FBI and Chicago PD were able to compare it with a latent found in Adam Chisolm Patterson’s last known Chicago address.

  “Nick, the guy who detonated the IED was Patterson, not Blaine. And look at this supplemental message from Canada. The kid we have in custody—the RCMP confirms his identity as Thomas Randall Thompson!”

  Varner’s gut heaved.

  They had the wrong guy.

  Jerricko Titus Blaine was missing, along with one bomb.

  * * *

  After leaving the Lincoln Tunnel, Strobic headed for Newslead’s headquarters.

  He’d wheeled on to West Thirty-Third Street when the rear cab window slid open, and Jerricko Titus Blaine stuck his arm through it and held a Glock pistol to Strobic’s head.

  “I’ve got a bomb strapped to me that I can explode in one second!”

  “Okay! Take it easy!” Strobic held up one hand. “What’d you want?”

  “You’ll drive where I tell you!”

  “Okay!”

  “You!” Blaine pointed the gun at Kate. “Get back in here with me!”

  All the saliva dried in Kate’s mouth and her skin prickled as she looked at Strobic without moving. She screamed and spasmed when the cab exploded with muzzle flash as Blaine fired a shot into the console.

  “Get in the back now!”

  Kate unbuckled her belt, climbed into the back, squeezing through the rear window.

  “Drive to Forty-Second and Sixth Avenue!”

  Strobic nodded.

  “Okay, okay! Forty-Second and Sixth! Okay!”

  Kate had to force herself to breathe.

  In the back she saw that Blaine was wearing a backpack that bulged and what looked like a pull cord dangling from the shoulder strap.

  “Why are you doing this? Why did you pick us?”

  Blaine stared at Kate as if she were something to be scraped from the sole of his boot.

  “I didn’t pick you. Fate chose you!”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “After my brothers died as martyrs, God led me into the woods along the road into the first safe vehicle. Back here, I heard you talking. You’re infidel press! You print lies to support your murdering American government! It is my destiny to kill you and all nonbelievers!”

  “No, please.” Kate kept her voice soft. “Don’t do this!”

  A bright light flashed and pain shot through her brain as Blaine smashed the gun to the side of her head.

  The destination was less than ten blocks away.

  Strobic searched the traffic and streets for a solution. It was futile. This was not a Hollywood script. Blaine had the upper hand. He had a bomb, he had the gun. He had Kate. He had control and he was going to kill people.

  There was no escaping this without deaths.

  “Don’t do this, buddy!” Strobic said.

  “Shut u
p!”

  Blaine dug his free hand into his pocket then something clinked as he snapped a metal handcuff to Kate’s wrist before locking the other cuff around his own. Blood webbed down her cheek as she regained her senses with the horror that she was now chained to Blaine.

  A few minutes later, Strobic pulled along Forty-Second Street and Sixth Avenue.

  “Turn down Forty-Second.”

  The street was lined with empty school and charter buses at the edge of Bryant Park. Some five thousand schoolchildren from all five boroughs were on the lawn before the stage for a special Broadway in Bryant Park event. The cast of one of Broadway’s running hits was performing a shortened version for free.

  Music and singing boomed, reverberating off the nearby skyscrapers.

  “Stop beside a bus!”

  Strobic stopped.

  “Put your emergency lights on, come back and let us out!”

  Strobic froze, his knuckles whitening on the wheel.

  “Do it now! Or I’ll kill her and I’ll kill you and detonate this bomb!”

  “No!” Strobic refused.

  Kate screamed as Blaine fired another round into the floor of the pickup’s bed, prompting Strobic to get out of the cab. As he trotted to the back, he saw two uniformed NYPD officers standing thirty yards away. Strobic waved frantically and whistled.

  Unsure they saw him, he opened the cap and tailgate of the Silverado.

  Blaine charged out, dragging Kate with him.

  Strobic backed away, hands up, yelling: “He’s got a bomb!” Then Strobic dove at Blaine.

  Kate screamed as Blaine shot Strobic, sending him to the pavement of Forty-Second Street.

  The disturbance caused the two police officers to turn just as Blaine ran with Kate into a park entrance.

  * * *

  Officers Rita Muldowney and Elonzo Lang saw the glint of the handcuff, the gun in Blaine’s hand and his bulging backpack.

  “Freeze! Police!”

  Blaine cut through the lawn with Kate, running, stomping on the small feet and hands of children sitting on the grass, watching the stage show. Using Kate as his shield, Blaine headed to the center for maximum impact as she struggled against him.