by Ken W. Smith
She smiled. “I made it… to the last week of… Ranger school. Then became an MP.”
“Did you know Bill Shannon?”
She closed her eyes and nodded. “He was… in my Reserve unit.”
She reached for her utility belt and unsnapped a pocket, “Here, take more ammo.”
CJ looked out from behind the door. The sniper pinned down the SWAT team near the entrance of the building. He reached in and grabbed the bullet cartridges and stuffed them into his pants pocket. He took a deep breath and sprinted towards an alley next to the apartment building. He was halfway across the street when the sniper spotted him and turned the gunfire in his direction, but CJ was too fast.
He made it to the alley and searched for a way into the building. He found a fire escape and leaped up to grab the bottom rung but missed. Finally, after three more attempts, he caught it. The ladder slid down far enough for him to climb up. It went all the way to the top floor.
CJ stopped at the top platform covered in sweat. There was no access to the roof. Instead, he found himself outside a penthouse apartment. He scanned the inside to make sure the adjacent room was empty, aimed at the window, and fired. A thin line appeared in the thick glass. He unloaded a full magazine into the window until the crack turned into a spider’s web. Then he kicked the web, and the glass fell into the apartment. He slid through the small hole and found himself in a bedroom.
He ran through the upscale apartment and into the hallway. He looked both ways and found the stairwell door. He prayed the alarm to the door was shut off as he slammed it open. To his annoyance, a loud siren blared. He ignored it and ran up the stairs to the roof. He stopped at the exit door, reloaded the rifle, then took a deep breath and pushed the door open a crack.
Anticipating a barrage of gunfire, CJ stayed in place, then opened the door further.
No gunfire. He pushed the door all the way open.
CJ found the sniper’s empty lair. Copper shell casings littered the roof, and a foam mattress topper covered the black roofing material. Next to the mattress, a nylon gun bag lay open on the ground. He also found a food wrapper and an empty coffee cup. Finally, he spotted a piece of paper lying next to the bag. It was a picture of Jay Mendes taken this morning from outside the Fall River Cathedral.
* * *
Jay placed his handgun on the floor. Then he felt the cold, steel barrel of a revolver jammed against the back of his head.
“You’re under arrest,” McCarthy said loudly. Then he bent down and whispered in Jay’s ear, “Go along with me. I have to make it look good for my boss.”
Officer McCarthy knelt on Jay’s back, squeezing the wind out of his lungs. He wrenched Jay’s arms behind his back, ready to slap handcuffs on, when Jay said, “Wait, don’t move.”
“That’s my line, McCarthy replied. “You’re not supposed to say it to me.”
“Why aren’t we dead?” Jay asked.
“The bomb didn’t explode. Your shots stopped the bomb vest from detonating.”
“So that means the bomb is still alive even though the bomber is dead. Why didn’t it explode? Let me up.”
“I can’t do that.”
“Let me up, or we’re all going to die!”
McCarthy let Jay get up. People were running away in panic all around him, but Jay walked towards the satin-lined chair on the altar. Toppled over backward, the bomber lay with his arms spread out wide—like Jesus hanging from the cross. Underneath him lie Bishop Ramirez. A pool of blood stained the ancient chair. Jay couldn’t tell if it belonged to the bomber, the Bishop, or both.
“McCarthy, do you have a knife?”
“Yeah.”
“Give it to me. Hurry.”
“What are you going to do?”
“Don’t ask stupid questions. Just give me the knife.”
McCarthy handed Jay the utility knife and stepped back but kept his gun aimed at Jay.
Jay knelt next to the bomber and grabbed the collar of his vestment. He inserted the knife and sliced it down to his waist. Then he slit a horizontal line and peeled back the vestment.
“Oh shit,” McCarthy said. “Now, what do we do?”
Jay didn’t answer. He stared at the black nylon suicide vest. It held four pouches on the front, each containing a clear plastic bag. Inside each bag was a second smaller pouch with a clear liquid. Inside each pouch was a strand of white material cut into strange shapes like stars, crosses, and spikes. White wires ran down the side of the vest and converged on a small, rectangular circuit board. There were two bullet holes. One in the board’s center, embedded in a circular LED light—the second hole, a half-inch higher than the first.
“Where’s the bomb squad?”
“I don’t know,” McCarthy said as he nervously looked around for support.
“Use your radio to find out. But, first, we need to extricate Bishop Ramirez from underneath the bomber.”
“How are we going to do that?”
“I don’t know. But we have to be very careful, or it’s the last thing we’ll ever do.”
* * *
“Madman, Gia,” Jay said into the radio. “Where are you guys?”
“In front of the Cathedral,” Gia said. “We’re helping the wounded.”
“What do you mean, wounded?”
“There was a sniper. Shot dozens of people as they ran out of the Cathedral. CJ went after him.”
“CJ, where are you?”
“On the roof of the apartment building across the street. I’m talking with a SWAT commander and answering questions from Boston Police detectives.”
“Did you find the sniper?”
“No, he was gone when I got to the roof. But I found something else. I’ll tell you later. Where are you?”
“On the altar. We have a situation.”
* * *
As he stared at the bomber, Jay prayed to himself. He couldn’t remember being so scared in fourteen years of active duty. One tiny mistake, and it was all over. He would rather face a hundred Taliban than a single IED.
Reaching down, Jay placed two fingers against the Bishop’s neck. He felt a pulse.
“I’m still alive,” the Bishop said, startling Jay. “Just praying to Jesus.”
“Are you injured?”
“Yes, one of the bullets you shot is inside me.”
“I had to shoot. Father Bellevue was a suicide bomber.”
“I’ll forgive you since you saved my life.”
“It’s liquid explosive,” McCarthy said from behind Jay. “Probably TATP. It’s a homemade liquid popular with terrorist groups. But I don’t know what the white pieces are made of.”
“Looks like ceramic,” a familiar voice said. “It isn’t metallic and has a high melting point.”
Jay turned to see his old friend Victor Salinas standing behind him dressed in a full bomb suit.”
“Salinas, when did you get discharged?”
“About a year ago, the same time you disappeared.”
“You two know each other?” McCarthy asked.
“This is Victor Salinas, the best IED tech in the entire Navy. We served together for many years. He saved my ass countless times.”
“Well, I hope he saves both our asses one more time.”
Jay stood up and faced Salinas, who was about the same height and stature as Jay. They could be twins. His oversized bomb suit said State Police Bomb Squad on the front.
“You need to leave,” Salinas said. “Now. Please evacuate outside of the blast zone. This is no place for civilians.
“I’m not going anywhere,” Jay said, “I’m responsible for Bishop Ramirez’s safety.”
“My rescue team is on the way. They will extricate him. For now, I am going to inspect the vest.”
“We can’t wait. The Bishop will bleed out. McCarthy and I will help. But, you need to tell us how to handle the dead bomber.”
“Okay, let’s see. First, we need to hold the bomber up, then slide the Bishop and the chair out
from under him. Then we’ll need to place the bomber on the floor without jarring the vest. TATP is very unstable.”
“Okay, we can do this. But first, one question. Where were you guys before the celebration? I didn’t see you when I passed through security.”
“There was a flurry of bomb scares right before the start of the inauguration. The Boston squad went to a call in the Back Bay. The FBI went to a call in Worcester at Holy Cross stadium, and my squad went to Alumni Stadium at Boston College.”
“Did you find anything?”
“No. All were false alarms.”
“Sounds like they were deliberate. Okay, what do you need me to do?”
“You and I are going to hold the bomber while McCarthy pulls the Bishop out. Once the Bishop is out of the Cathedral, I’ll remove the vest from the bomber for disposal.”
“I’m going to help, too,” another familiar voice said from behind him. “We need to preserve the vest as evidence.”
“Screw the vest,” Jay said. “I want to stay alive.”
Jay turned to see Gunny Mack standing behind him dressed in a suit and FBI windbreaker. Mac said, “Let’s get to work.”
* * *
Jay helped Victor remove his bomb suit. Then they stood on each side of the bomber and knelt. He reached underneath the bomber until he felt Victor’s hands, then intertwined their fingers.
The stench of the corpse was nauseating, but Jay focused his mind elsewhere.
“I’m ready,” he said. “Please hurry.”
On the count of three, Jay and Victor lifted the bomber while Officer McCarthy and Gunny Mack slid the chair backward. As they pulled, Jay felt the weight of the body increase. Jay held on tight as his right arm throbbed. Pain shot up into his spinal cord as he struggled to adjust his grip. He used his legs to hold most of the weight, but he wasn’t going to last long.
As the Bishop inched back, Jay felt a spray of warm liquid come out from the Bishop’s abdomen, “Hurry, moving the Bishop is releasing the pressure on his bullet wound. He’s bleeding out!”
“C’mon, McCarthy,” Gunny said, “we have to move him fast.”
They yanked the Bishop out, and the sudden movement caused the bomber’s body to drop. Jay panicked. Then he dropped to his knees using every last ounce of strength and stopped the body from hitting the floor with an inch to spare. Jay and Victor lowered the body gently to the floor.
Exhausted, Jay pulled his arms out then rolled over onto his back. Drenched in sweat, he lay still for several minutes, holding his hands on his temple, trying to will the searing pain away, without any luck.
“Are you okay, Chief?” Gunny Mack asked.
“Never better.”
“Good, because we have to leave. The rest of the bomb squad is here.”
* * *
McCarthy called his Commander, who agreed to let Gunny Mack take Jay into FBI custody for questioning. Even though it was apparent the shooting was justified, Mack had to follow FBI protocol.
“You can’t call me Gunny Mack anymore,” he said as they left the Cathedral. “It’s special agent McCauley.”
“You’ll always be Gunny Mack to me,” Jay said. “But I’ll call you Mack to respect your new job. Is that okay, Special Agent?”
Mack laughed and punched Jay in the right arm. He almost fainted from the pain.
Mack led Jay to an unmarked moving van parked on a side street two blocks from the Cathedral. Mack opened a door on the side of the trailer and walked in. Jay followed.
Inside, dozens of law enforcement officers sat at computer workstations. A large flat-screen television hung from the front of the trailer.
Jay looked at the TV. He cringed at the sight of Kathleen Amejian reporting on GNN but stayed calm.
“I’m reporting live above Saint Patrick’s Cathedral in New York City,” Amejian reported. “The once majestic Cathedral, now a pile of rubble. According to eyewitness reports, a suicide bomber detonated his bomb on the altar, killing the New York Archdiocese’s entire leadership. First responders rushed in to aid the injured and evacuate the Cathedral when a second, more powerful explosion leveled the structure. At this time, we’re not sure if it was a second bomb or a gas explosion. The Mayor of New York, Victor DiMarco, said it was the worst attack since nine eleven. Investigators and rescuers are digging through the rubble searching for survivors.”
The scene changed to an aerial view of the Cathedral in Boston. The taped footage showed people running out of the Cathedral in a panic, then mowed down by the rooftop sniper.
“In Boston, an anonymous shooter killed a priest in cold blood. Then as the panicked clergy fled the Cathedral, a second unknown sniper fired into the crowd. At this point, the death toll stands at eleven. If not for the brave actions of an armed citizen and the Boston SWAT team, the body count could have been much higher. Instead, it took hours for local police and the FBI to search for the sniper and declare the area safe. The Boston Police have evacuated the entire neighborhood. Now we will go to the Vatican for an update.”
The image switched to an aerial view showing an empty St. Peter’s square in Rome. A sea of white sheets covered victims from the five explosions. Blue and red flashing lights from emergency vehicles lit up the scene.
“This is Joanne Roberts reporting live from the Vatican. People worldwide are in a state of shock today after an unknown terrorist group launched multiple coordinated suicide attacks, killing at least three hundred worshipers in St. Peter’s Square. The attacks occurred at the beginning of the Pope’s inauguration. Despite heavy security measures, bombers beat the systems. At this time, we don’t know if the Pope is dead or alive.”
* * *
Jay and McCoy studied the video image from the bomb squad robot. The body lay where Jay left it, on the wooden floor with hands raised above his head. The detonator is still in the right hand. The bomber had sandy brown hair underneath a dark-haired wig. He had a light complexion, a short, well-trimmed beard, one blue eye, and one brown eye. Not your typical Islamic terrorist.
“Why two different eye colors?”
“Contacts,” Mack said. “We found a second brown contact a few feet away.”
Jay stared at the two bullet holes in the circuit board. Each hole is a half-inch in diameter. “Victor said he found the first bullet embedded in an LED. The second bullet severed the detonating wires and the PC board, but the fragment was in Bishop Ramirez’s abdomen.”
“Amazing,” Mack said.
“What is?” Jay replied.
“Your shot placement. It was perfect. A fraction of an inch in either direction and the bomb explodes.”
“Dumb luck.”
“No way, my friend. You’re way too modest.”
“I’m making an audio log for the evidence file,” Salinas said. “I’m going to secure one of the explosive packets from the vest for the lab to analyze. Then I’ll take the rest of the packets for detonation and preserve the vest and electronics board. TATP is most stable when kept cold, so I will remove the pouch from the pocket and place it in the disposal box filled with dry ice.”
Salinas opened the toolbox and removed a pair of wire clippers, then continued his narration, “I am going to clip the detonation wires of each pouch.”
Jay watched Salinas clip the first wire. “There is something odd about this detonation wire,” Jay said. “The conductor is white instead of copper.”
“That’s a plastic conductor called PEDOT,” Salinas said. “It’s used in bombs built to pass through an x-ray machine. It’s printed onto a substrate using 3D printers. We don’t see it used too often by non-government terrorists because it is expensive to produce and difficult to store.”
“Are you saying whoever built this bomb is a government agency?”
“Not necessarily. They just have a lot of money. Okay, let’s continue. I am now going to cut away the tape from the top of the pouch.”
Salinas replaced the clippers and removed a small knife with a sharp, triangular
blade. He inserted the blade above a pocket holding the pouch. He pulled the knife along the top edge, being careful not to puncture the plastic.
“Now, I am going to pull the pouch up and out of the pocket.”
Salinas tugged on the top of the pouch. It didn’t move.
“What’s holding the pouch?” Mack asked.
“I found a small piece of clear tape at the bottom of the pocket,” Salinas said as he pulled out the knife and sliced the tape. The tip of the blade cut through the bottom of the pouch.
A thick, clear liquid oozed out of the pouch. When it hit the air, it started bubbling.
“Shit,” Salinas said. “I punctured the pouch. It’s leaking.”
Jay braced himself for the explosion.
Several seconds passed, and the bomb didn’t explode. Jay held his breath as Salinas inched the pouch out. Once the pouch was clear of the pocket, he placed it in the disposal box. He then proceeded to remove the other three pouches from the front of the vest.
As Jay watched the process on the computer screen, he remembered the white strands inside the pouches.
“Victor,” Jay said. “Can you show us a close-up of the pocket?”
Salinas removed the camera from his helmet and held it up close.
Jay studied the clear liquid, “I saw before that there are coils of thin, tightly-wound white material inside the pouch. There are miniature needles, stars, and razor-like blades with a thin white core connecting them. The pieces were very uniform - like a machine produced them. Most IED vests contain nails and ball bearings. Have you ever seen anything like it?”
“No, but I did see the same material in the sample we removed.”
Mack stared at the screen next to Jay, “Let’s make sure we send samples of the strands to the lab.”
Salinas returned to the job of removing the vest. He inspected the printed circuit board with the magnifying glass. Victor also examined the bullet lodged between the board and the vest.
Salinas pulled a plastic connector from the clip holding the circuit assembly and placed it in his vest pocket.
“It appears the only metal components of this bomb vest are in the control board. It looks like the inside of a cell phone with a receiver, battery, and detonation switch. It’s my theory that the bomber carried the board inside his cell phone. When he went into the bathroom, he removed the board from the phone. He then snapped it into the clip and attached the wires. That’s how this system defeated the metal detector and the x-ray security system.”