Shot at Redemption

by Ken W. Smith

  They walked across the neck of the Nob, a narrow strip of land with water on both sides. At the end of the neck, stone stairs climbed to the top of the rounded headland. A few acres around, the small hill rose fifty feet above the water. Smooth granite blocks lined the waterline to prevent erosion.

  At the top, they sat on a granite bench overlooking the ocean. The moonlight glistened off the calm water, and the sound of the gentle waves lapping against the granite was enchanting. A bell on a distant buoy clanged in the breeze.

  “It’s so beautiful tonight,” Jillian whispered. “The view is magnificent.”

  “It’s magical,” Jay said as he stared at Jillian. He noticed she was shivering, so Jay slid closer and wrapped his arms around her.

  “Do you come here often?” Jillian asked.

  “Not since the night of my brother’s funeral. I decided to join the Navy that night. Needed to do something different.”

  “That was so tragic,” Jillian said. “I remember going to the candlelight vigil at the beach. I knew Jojo and his girlfriend, Olivia. They were nice.”

  Jay was surprised to hear Olivia’s name. First, he felt a brief pang of guilt. Then he remembered she was in California.

  Jillian looked at him and smiled. “Did you hear me say I had a crush on you? You were underwater.”

  “I wasn’t all the way under.”

  “I still do, you know.”

  “Do what?”

  “Have a crush on you,” Jillian said, staring into Jay’s eyes. She placed her hand behind Jay’s neck, pulling him forward, and pecked him on his lips. Jay kissed her back.

  Jillian pulled away and looked at Jay in his eyes. She placed one hand on his cheek.

  “That was nice,” Jillian said. “It’s been a long time since I’ve kissed a man like that.”

  “You don’t have to stop now,” Jay said with a grin.

  She leaned to kiss him again, but he held up his hand to stop her.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “I hear something.”

  “What?”

  “A faint buzzing sound.”

  Jay couldn’t find the source of the annoying buzz. But he did see a strange reflection of the moonlight. Jay stood up and stepped towards the sound, then tripped over a granite block. He fell flat onto his stomach. Laughter erupted from a few feet away.

  The fall knocked the wind out of Jay’s lungs. After a few deep breaths, he gathered his composure, stood up, and sat back down with Jillian.

  Jillian recognized the source of the laughter.

  “That’s my son and his friends,” Jillian said.

  She was about to yell something, but Jay put his finger to his mouth.

  “Shh,” he said. “I have an idea. I’ll give them a bit of their own medicine. Why don’t you walk around to the other side of the hill? Act like you’re searching for the noise.”

  Jillian was still a bit tipsy, but she went along with Jay’s plan. While she walked back and forth, Jay crawled to the edge of the hill so nobody would see him.

  Jay worked his way down the slick granite blocks and slid into the water. The cold water felt good to him. As a Navy SEAL, Jay trained to swim and work in the fifty-degree water of coastal Virginia.

  Jay swam with his head above the water until he saw the four teens at the base of the headland. The two girls were wearing strange headsets. Kyle had a remote control in his hand, and Brendan was holding an iPad. He crept out of the water and approached the group. He snuck right up behind Brendan. Peering over his shoulder, Jay saw the iPad screen was lit up in the eerie green mode typical of night vision scopes. He watched Jillian stumbling around, looking for the bot.

  Jay was so close to Brendan that a few drops of cold saltwater dropped on Brendan’s shoulder. Brendan wiped the drops away then turned to see Jay crouching behind him.

  Brendan screamed! Then the girls screamed louder.

  Jay laughed. He noticed Kyle looking at the iPad and saw Jillian waving at him.

  “Gotcha!” she said.

  Chapter 20

  New York City

  Smoke seeped from the piles of rubble once known as Saint Patrick’s Cathedral. Located in the heart of Manhattan, St. Patrick’s twin towers were a reminder of the city’s Irish Catholic roots.

  From street level, the front of the Cathedral appeared unscathed. The twin spires soared toward the sky. But that’s where the beauty ended. The circular stained glass windows ordaining the front facade stood empty and vacant—the mahogany front doors—now piles of charcoal on the blood-stained granite steps.

  There was an eerie silence in this busy, bustling part of the city. Barriers closed off the area around the Cathedral, restricting access to Rockefeller Center. The Mayor of New York objected to the closures, but he gave in when reminded of the carnage of the 9/11 attacks.

  “Ewww,” Jessie said. “What’s that smell?”

  “Death. Rotting flesh. Bodily fluids,” her cameraman and classmate, Roger, replied.

  “Do you have to be so morbid?” Jessie said as she held her hand over her nose.

  Roger shook his head in amazement, “I have a question. Why are we here?”

  “We’re investigative journalists. We’re here to find a groundbreaking scoop.”

  “But we’re still journalism students. We don’t graduate for another month, and we don’t work for anybody yet.”

  “I told you all this on the ride down from Kingston. Weren’t you listening to me?”

  “Not really. You’re always talking. I can’t remember everything you say.”

  “Well, we both better shut up,” Jessie said. “Because here comes a cop. I’ll sweet talk him, so he lets us in the Cathedral.”

  “Let us in where?” It’s a pile of stone.”

  “Shut up!”

  Jessie primped herself for the police officer. Her tight red dress squeezed her breasts tight, accentuating her cleavage. She smiled to show off her perfect teeth.

  “What are you two doing here?” the police officer asked, waving his hands. This is a crime scene. No media allowed.”

  “But officer, we’re investigative reporters. We want to share a tip with you.”

  Roger looked at Jessie. She ignored him. She was on a roll.

  “What tip? Do I look like a tip line? Pick up a phone and drop a dime. Now scram.”

  “Then can you bring us to the officer in charge? It’s a vital tip.”

  The officer looked annoyed.

  “Please, Officer,” Jessie said with her little girl pout.

  “Listen, missy, what’s your name?”

  “Jessie. Jessie Mendes.”

  “What news organization are you with?”

  “Channel Six in Providence.” She flashed her intern ID then returned it to her pocketbook. He reached his hand out. She placed the ID in his hand. He studied it and gave it back to her.

  “Sorry, kid. No students are allowed either. Now take off before I arrest you for lying to a police officer.”

  Roger grabbed Jessie by the arm. He looked back at her in amazement. “Come on, Jessie, let’s go. We’ll wait for somebody to come out.”

  Jessie and Roger peered at the historic Cathedral.

  “Roger, let’s get some b-roll footage. Then, we can walk around outside the perimeter of the site.”

  Police cordons blocked one lane of Fifth Avenue to allow traffic to pass. They also blocked off the entrance to East Fiftieth Street.

  Jessie observed a row of closed-down storefronts, “Look; the debris shatter the windows at Louis Vuitton. I was gonna get a new bag.”

  “Too bad,” Roger said, shaking his head. “I know that’s a top priority for you.”

  “Look at the piles of debris,” Jessie said. “It looks like a mountain of rubble. Let’s take a closer look.”

  “What about the cop?”

  “What about him. He said we couldn’t go into the Cathedral. We are technically not going in.”

  Jessie slipped between two
of the wooden barriers, and Roger followed. Once past the barricade, they could see right inside the Cathedral.

  The main sanctuary was now a pile of stone and plaster. Only three of the great pillars remained standing—sticking out of the rubble like lone sentries. Crumpled stainless pipes lay underneath piles of roof tiles—the only remnants of the once majestic pipe organ.

  Rescuers dressed in white hazmat suits led dogs over the top of the rubble, looking for human remains. Along the street, coroner vans lined up, waiting to remove the bodies.

  Jessie stopped Roger and pointed to the top of a pile. Two FBI agents carried a body bag down. One of the officers slipped, and the bag’s zipper opened. A headless torso wearing the remains of a nun’s habit rolled out. One agent grabbed it, pushed the body back into the bag, and zipped it up.

  Jessie stared in shock. The stench of death overwhelmed her, causing her to throw up.

  Roger waited while Jessie finished retching. When she stood up, tears were streaming down her cheeks, smudging her thick mascara.

  “Are you alright?” Roger said. “We can leave if you want.”

  Jessie shook her head. “I’ll be okay. Did you get that on the camera?”

  “Yeah, I got it.”

  Jessie looked up. A young Hispanic man wearing a white hazmat suit stood in the street in front of her. The man’s large dark eyes stared at her—his arms on his hips.

  “You know you’re not supposed to be here, Jessie.”

  That was creepy; she thought, “How do you know my name?”

  “Your brother, Jay, talked about you all the time.”

  “How do you know my brother?”

  “We worked together,” the bomb squad officer said. “My name is Victor Salinas, and I’m with the Massachusetts State Police Bomb Squad. I served with your brother overseas. One of the agents in Boston tipped me off that you may come here to practice your investigation skills.”

  “We’ll leave,” Jessie said. “One question. How many people died here?”

  “We’re still finding bodies, forty-seven so far. We are missing at least ten more.

  “Where were they killed?”

  “There was just one bomber, and he stood at the front of the church near the altar. The blast killed almost everybody within a twenty-foot radius. Police were able to evacuate the rest of the congregation. But after firefighters entered the Cathedral, there was a second explosion that leveled the building. Thirty-two first responders died in the blast, the worst loss since 9/11. We got lucky.”

  “How do you call that lucky?” Roger asked.

  “The Cathedral was full—over 3,000 people. Most were priests and nuns. The heart of the New York Archdioceses.”

  “Did you know any of the victims?” Jessie said.

  “Sorry, I can’t answer any more questions. You’ll have to leave now. I’ll escort you back to your van.”

  “But Officer Salinas, how did you know we were out here?”

  “The cop at the door told me. I figured you wouldn’t give up that easy.”

  Jessie and Roger followed Salinas back towards Fifth Avenue.

  “Where was the bomber when he detonated?” Jessie asked.

  “In the middle of the altar. The heat emitted from the bomb was tremendous.”

  As they walked, Jessie noticed something furry squashed between two granite blocks.

  “Excuse me,” Jessie said. “Something is interesting there.”

  She pointed toward the object. To Jessie, it looked like a dead rat, a common sight in New York City.

  Salinas knelt and took a closer look. It appeared to be a bird. But on closer inspection, Jessie saw wires sticking out. Salinas moved some rubble to get a closer look. Wires hung out of the bottom of the bird, revealing a green circuit board. The eyes were tiny camera lenses.

  “That is one special seagull,” Jessie said.

  “This is not a seagull,” Victor said. “It’s a drone.”

  Jessie and Roger watched as agents and crime scene technicians surrounded the drone. One person took photos. Another technician pulled the body of the phony bird out of the rubble. He examined it then placed it in a clear plastic bag. He reached in and pulled out several more pieces and put them in separate bags. The bird’s wings were still attached. Many of the feathers were peeled away, revealing a plastic substructure.

  “Roger, are you filming this?” Jessie said. “We have to get this video to the station as soon as possible. We’ll have an exclusive.”

  Victor picked up the drone and walked towards the command vehicle parked in front of Rockefeller Center.

  Jessie noticed a tiny green light blinking from the bottom of the bird’s body as Victor walked by.

  Jessie reached out and grabbed Victor’s left arm. “Excuse me. There’s a light….”

  Then the bird exploded.

  Victor disappeared in a cloud of smoke and fire.

  A wave of pressure slammed Jessie against the store’s boarded-up windows as bodily fluids and sharp objects pummeled her body. As the smoke cleared, she found herself trapped by something heavy. It took several moments for her mind to clear and realize it was the remains of Victor’s body pinning her against the store.

  Jessie wrapped her arms around Victor’s torso and gently lowered him to the ground.

  As Jessie tried to take a step, she felt a sharp pain in her left thigh and warm liquid oozing down her bare leg. She reached down to find a bone protruding from her muscle. Flesh, blood, and dark blue material hung off the bone. Jessie screamed.

  Then she saw Roger lying on his back. There was blood flowing out of a gash on his head, and his cell phone was still clutched in his hand.

  “Roger!” Jessie screamed. She tried retaking a step, but her leg buckled under her weight, and she fell to her knees. Pain ripped the breath from her lungs.

  Jessie dragged herself over chunks of granite and bloody limbs. When she reached Roger, she saw he was unconscious. A large gash on the back of his head oozed thick blood. She placed two fingers on his neck and felt a faint pulse.

  Thank God, she thought. He’s still alive. She wanted to do more for Roger, but she didn’t have any strength left. The pain was overwhelming her senses. Her vision was fuzzy. She felt so weak and cold. Jesse lay her head on Rogers’ chest, then closed her eyes. She whispered, “I’m sorry, Jay. I love you, Momma. Our Father, who art in….”

  Chapter 21

  Jay and Jillian walked hand-in-hand back to Marty’s house. They were still laughing about the look on Kyle’s face when Jay surprised him.

  As they walked up the grassy slope, Jay noticed a black Suburban in Marty’s driveway. CJ and Gia were standing in front.

  “Jill, I had a great time tonight, but I have to go.”

  “I had fun too,” Jillian said.

  Jay kissed Jillian goodnight and ran up the slope to the house. “Hey, guys, what’s going on? Why are you here?”

  “Get in,” Gia said. “We’ll tell you inside.”

  “I need to change out of my bathing suit and grab my duffle bag.”

  “Here it is,” CJ said, throwing a small nylon bag at Jay.

  Jay caught the bag, then got in the rear seat and slid over. Gia jumped in the front, shutting the door.

  “Gia?” Jay said. “What’s going on?”

  “There’s been another explosion. In New York outside St. Patrick’s Cathedral.”

  Jay grabbed clothes out of his duffle bag and changed.

  Gia said, “We’re being picked up at Otis Air Base.”

  “I don’t understand. Why are we going to New York?”

  “Your sister. She was there.”

  “What do you mean?” Jay said as he pulled a t-shirt over his head.

  “I’m sorry. Jessie might not make it.”

  The words struck like a sledgehammer. Jay struggled to catch his breath. After a few moments, he said, “How? What happened? Was anybody else hurt?”

  “Yes. Jessie’s friend Roger is in critica
l but stable condition. He has a fractured skull and internal injuries. A bomb squad member was killed. He was Victor Salinas.”

  “Oh man, how is that possible?” Jay said. “We were together in Boston. What happened?”

  “Mack called me,” Gia said, placing her hand on Jay’s. “Reports are sketchy, but your sister tried to get into the Cathedral but was turned away by a cop. She was nearby when the bomb went off.”

  “How bad?”

  “Bone fragments punctured her thigh and clipped her femoral artery. She lost a lot of blood. Mack said she’s still in surgery.”

  CJ pulled through the guard gate at the joint military base in Bourne. He parked the suburban at the Coast Guard air station. Two orange and white rescue helicopters sat on helipads, ready to launch. Jay heard a faint whisper above the Suburban. He opened the door and looked up to see his ride approach. It was unlike anything he had ever seen before. It looked like a private jet, but instead of engines, this aircraft had three circular fans. It hovered above the airfield, then lowered to the tarmac. It reminded Jay of an oversized drone. But this plane was sleek and shiny. Jay and Gia stepped out of the truck to watch the aircraft land.

  The door opened, and a ladder extended down. A moment later, Michelle Goddard stepped out. She waved at Jay, then ran down the ladder, “I’m so sorry about your sister. When McCoy called me and told me what happened, I dropped everything. Let’s go. We can be in New York in an hour.”

  Gia climbed onto the aircraft. Jay turned to look for CJ and found him standing outside the Suburban.

  “CJ, are you coming?”

  “No, the Bishop requested twenty-four-hour protection. Madman and I are going to take twelve-hour shifts until you get back.”

  “Okay, stay in touch. I’ll call you from New York.”

  Jay took a seat next to Michelle in the cockpit. Gia made herself at home in one of the leather seats in the cabin.

  “Michelle, what is this thing?” Jay said. “It reminds me of one of the spaceships in the Jetsons.”