by Cliff Hedley
She found one of the Bomb Squad team and tapped him on the shoulder. “Excuse me.”
He turned and faced her, a little surprised. “Yes, ma’am?”
“Can you tell me who is in charge? One of our EODs got a look at the device before it went off.”
His eyes went wide in response and he motioned to Jane to follow him. “Sir!” he called out and a slightly older man in his late-forties turned around. He was wearing Bomb Squad attire and his thinning wisp of blonde hair and weathered face suggested he was the most senior of the team. He was busy checking out the area around the ambulance and the column where the blast had originated.
“This woman has a witness who saw the device. An EOD.”
The man extended his hand. “Ma’am. I’m Lieutenant Grange. Can you take me to your witness?”
“Harris,” she offered as she shook his hand. “I was one of the first on the scene. We figured we could both give you our statements but I’ll need to take you to him. He got a little banged up.”
“Thank you, Mace.” He patted the younger man on the shoulder. “Keep the scene secure until I get back?”
He and Jane pushed their way back inside, through the throng of police and medical personnel. “What’s the name of your witness, ma’am?”
“Chase.”
“And you said he’s an EOD?”
“Was. Until recently.”
“I got a call from a friend of mine about an EOD named Chase recently. It was about the Central Park bombing.” He waved over a couple of the SWAT guys. “You two come with me.”
She cut in, reading the situation. “Uh, I can assure you that he didn’t do this.”
“What makes you so sure?”
“You’ll understand when you meet him.”
Chapter 15
Chase sat on the edge of the bed in the lab, his usual spot. Both of the prosthetic arms lay beside him, plugged into Carlton’s array of machines. He was still covered in blood and clad in only his underwear. It was a little cold — he hoped that Jane would find him some new clothes soon. He heard hurried footsteps outside and moments later three armed men burst into the room. Chase was not expecting it and clearly neither was Carlton, who flinched when he saw their guns. Two SWAT guys had taken up covering positions on either side of the door with assault rifles and a man appearing to be their leader had a pistol raised as he moved in between them. Clearly, Carlton isn’t a combat veteran like Jane, Chase thought. He sat calmly and raised his arms, as Jane followed the men into the lab. She was out of breath.
The men looked surprised and lowered their weapons.
“Uh, thank you, gentlemen. I think I can take it from here,” the man in the centre said.
The two SWAT guys with rifles turned and moved out, their tension forgotten.
Jane spoke up. “Chase, this is Lieutenant Grange from the Bomb Squad. Lieutenant Grange, this is Master Sergeant Chase, US Army.”
“Retired,” Chase added as he lowered his arms. “Hello, Lieutenant.”
“Hello, Master Sergeant.”
“Chase, please. I’m afraid I’m not much good to you as a suspect. Though Doctor Carlton and Nurse Harris here are testing new prosthetic technology on me.” He nodded towards his metallic arms, lying next to him on the bed. “And in case you’re wondering, no, they don’t give me enough fine motor skills to build any kind of device. I’d probably just blow myself up if I tried. Besides which, I haven’t left the surrounding few blocks in weeks. Or longer.”
“Sorry, Chase,” Grange said. “It seemed awfully suspicious that you had knowledge of the Park bombing and then you were on the scene here.”
“Hernandez passed on my call?”
“He did. I spoke to him just before we got the call to come here.”
“I saw it on TV. It looked like a bomb, not a gas main explosion as some of the reports suggested. The smoke was wrong, among other things. I know you’ve probably got good people but I wanted to help. I’m fresh back from Afghanistan and figured if it was a terrorist attack, then I’ve probably seen every kind of device they might make.”
Grange nodded but still looked sceptical about what help Chase could offer.
“And now this. I saw what looked like an EFP planted at the base of one of the columns in the driveway. I tried to stop the ambulance but I couldn’t get there in time. If this is a single person, then they’ve trained in all the tricks of the trade. If it’s a group, then they probably had time on the ground as insurgents in Afghan, Iraq, or somewhere like that. Either way, we need to be on the lookout now.”
“We?”
“My eyes are wide open now, whether you want my help or not. I don’t believe in coincidence. I suggest you check every angle.”
“What makes you think it was an EFP?”
“I saw a block on the side of the road. It was coloured to blend in, just like they did in Afghanistan. And the placement. It was meant to be triggered by a vehicle coming up that driveway. Then there’s the impact marks on the side of the ambulance. Not like a regular IED. It was more targeted. The main projectile hit the cab, while a couple more hit the rear compartment. I could see the holes they punched on the way in. I’m telling you, I’ve seen this before.”
Grange stayed silent for a few moments, eying Chase, then turned to Jane. “You said you were one of the first on the scene?”
“That’s right.”
“What did you see?”
“I heard the explosion first. I had been heading down to the lab here. I felt the building rock but had no idea what it was. I came running up to reception right after that. There was one man dead on the floor and another nurse in shock but with minor contusions. That’s when I heard Chase shouting for help from behind the reception desk. He was keeping pressure on one of the victim’s neck where she was bleeding out. Which reminds me,” she said, turning to Chase, “I checked in on her. She’s going to live.”
Chase screwed his face up, suddenly fighting back a wall of emotions. He choked up for a minute, then managed to smile at Jane. “Thank you.”
A tension lifted from Chase, one that he hadn’t realised he had been carrying since the blast. He had saved the girl this time.
“Lieutenant,” he said as he regained his composure, “please don’t hesitate to call me if I can help in any way. If this is part of a terrorist attack, I can help you spot the threats ahead of time. I know your guys are good but I spent all day every day for the past couple of years looking for these things. I might be able to help you find any more before they can do harm.”
Grange nodded and seemed to accept Chase’s offer as valid. “Thank you. I might just do that. I should leave you to it for now. How about you get yourself looked after and some clothes. I’ll be in touch.” He was out the door before anyone could say anything else.
“I’ll go find you some pants, hero,” Jane teased and she pushed out the door after Grange.
Chase gave Carlton a grin. “You OK, Doc?”
Carlton was visibly shaken. “I think so. I’m not used to being in combat like you and Jane. Or having armed gunmen bursting into my lab for that matter. Maybe we should think about a security lock.”
“To their credit, they didn’t shoot us,” Chase smiled.
Carlton was not in the mood to be cheered up. He looked across at his blood-soaked guinea pig in his ragged underwear and realised he could only help by focusing on his work. “How about you go get a shower and get cleaned up properly. I’ll see if Jane can send someone up to help and bring you some clothes. It might take a while until things settle down outside but I think you’ve done more than enough today.”
Chase looked at him, concerned. “Will you be OK though?”
Carlton sighed. “Yeah. I’ll get back to work running diagnostics. If we keep seeing stuff like this happen, I’m sad to say that the world will need these pr
osthetics even more. And it will need you wearing them if you insist on helping, so don’t go do anything else stupid today.” He managed a half-smile as he said it.
“Ha. OK, no more bombs. I’ll go wait in my room. And thanks.”
Carlton turned back to his computer and array of machines.
“Oh, one more thing. Can you please help me with a call, Doc?”
“Of course.”
Chase gave him the number and Carlton dialled then put his hands-free headset on him.
“Hey, Dad.”
“Hi, Will. I was just about to head in for the day.”
“Don’t. I need you to stay put.”
“Why? What’s going on?”
Chase paused. “There was an attack on the hospital. EFP versus ambulance out front. A few dead, others injured.”
“Shit.” There was a pause as Frank took it in. “Are you OK?”
“I’m fine. Already made friends with the Bomb Squad.”
“I don’t like it. Like hell I’m sitting here while you’re in the thick of it.”
“I doubt you’d get in. The place is locked down tight and crawling with police. I need you to stay put, OK?”
“You think this is connected to the Park?”
“I hope not but my gut says maybe. I want you to stay away from public transport and the tourist sites for the time being.”
“Will do. Let me know when I can come in, or if you need anything.”
“Copy that.”
Chase hooked the lab door open with his foot and headed for his room. He was well-practised at opening doors with his feet now, though he noticed the absence of his new arms, as if they had become a part of him. He felt a new sense of appreciation for Carlton and Jane as he wandered the hallway and made his way upstairs.
He flicked the TV on using the remote with his foot, another well-practised trick he had learned. It would be a while before the nurses were free and things had calmed down, so he settled in for some re-runs. He sat in the chair to keep the blood off his bed sheets, even though he really wanted to put his feet up. Still, he was comfortable enough until help arrived. The adrenalin from earlier had seeped away and he felt a wave of comfort being in his own room but that was balanced against a rising knot of worry in his gut. He wondered if there would be any more attacks and if so what form they would take. There was probably no more target-rich environment anywhere in the world than New York when it came to hiding the kinds of explosives that he had seen in his time. He hoped he would at least get the chance to give Grange a shopping list of places to check.
He realised that he had not been paying attention to the TV, lost instead in his thoughts, for how long he was unsure. When he looked up, Leonard Nimoy was holding his hand aloft with a V-shape between his middle and ring fingers, uttering his catchphrase, “Live long and prosper.”
Chase looked down at the stumps of his forearms. Once, he had been able to make that same gesture. With the prosthetics, he couldn’t. They wouldn’t give him the flexibility in his knuckles to move laterally. That got him thinking about the fine motor skills he would need to hold a pen. He wouldn’t be able to use a soldering iron to build circuits, as he had indicated to Grange, nor could he use a pair of pliers very easily to disarm anything. He made a mental note to add lateral finger movement to his shopping list for Carlton. It would probably be a longer-term ask and maybe too difficult but he wanted to get those fine motor skills back one day.
A knock came at the door and a nurse came in with a pile of fresh clothes. She carefully helped him out of his torn and bloodied boxers and into the shower, working her way around the various contusions that Jane had patched up.
As the shower started and he moved to stand under it, he took a moment to appreciate the situation. Under any other circumstances, having a woman join him in the shower would have been a welcome highlight to his day. Instead, he felt helpless without his arms — flesh or prosthetic — and mustered the most genuine smile and “thank you” he could achieve as she helped him dry off and put on a fresh T-shirt and track pants. Next she set about replacing the bandages that Jane had put on him with dry ones. Once they were done, she dumped his old bandages and boxer shorts in the trash and headed out the door.
She had hardly said a word to him the whole time. Chase wondered if she, like many of the staff, would be in shock at this point. She was probably going through the motions of doing her job, not knowing what else to do. He wondered if there were any other combat-hardened staff in the hospital like Jane. There probably would be and they would need to help their unseasoned colleagues through this. The shrink is going to busy after this.
He flopped down onto his bed, thankful he could lie down yet still champing at the bit to do something more to help. He tried to settle into another TV show but was too restless. His mind was wandering, so the best thing was to go and do something, anything at all. The best idea he could come up with was the gym, where he could run through his rehab exercises and footwork and maybe even smash the bag a little. If nothing else, it would help him let off some steam, even if it meant he would need another shower later. Probably worse things than that.
He rolled up off the bed, hooked the door with his foot and headed to the gym. He pushed his way through the doors and took a seat on a bench so he could start on his rehab exercises. Once he was done, he worked on some footwork and what he had come to think of as his “armless katas”. Mentally, he was performing the necessary movements with his hands. He hoped that practising them this way would help to build and maintain the neural pathways that would translate to his prosthetics.
When he was happy with his katas, he stopped and took a breath. He was already starting to sweat through his T-shirt, so he wandered across to the water fountain and hit the foot-operated control to take a long gulp. Once he had his fill, he walked over to the hanging bag. Behind it was his bokken, leaning against the wall. He wouldn’t be able to practise with it today but it was good to see it there as a reminder and incentive. One day I’ll use it properly again.
He turned his gaze to the bag, taking a step back to find the right range. He drove a right roundhouse kick into it, shaking the bag hard and rattling the chains hanging it from the ceiling as it jinked in response. He hit it again, then switched legs to deliver a right-left combo. Again the bag shuddered. It felt good — this was exactly the outlet he needed. He worked for another ten minutes or so, changing his kicks and combos, then moved closer and added elbows and knees to his combinations. He felt the power of his elbows drive hard into the bag. Again it rattled. He was pleased that he still had those weapons intact, that he could still deliver heavy blows with his arms.
He delivered another ferocious attack. Left front kick, right roundhouse, stepping in to drive his right elbow into the bag, then the left. Somewhere behind him, he was aware of the gym door opening.
“I thought I’d find you in here. You better not have burst your stitches doing that.”
“Hi, Jane. Everything OK downstairs?”
“Yes. The police thought about evacuating but it was going to be too hard to move all the patients. The Bomb Squad has secured the scene and they have SWAT posted everywhere.”
“Good. You OK?”
“Ha,” she chuckled. “I’m exhausted but I think I’m finally on top of things here.”
“Coffee?”
“I wish. I’m here to collect you — Rob’s done with your prosthetics. That graze on your arm isn’t too bad, so you can put both of them back on. Then Grange wants to see you.”
Chase was surprised. “He’s still here?”
“He hasn’t left. The police have been thorough.”
“Coffee after?”
“Hell, yes.” It was the first time he had heard her use any kind of curse, even though it was pretty mild compared to the language that came out of the Roadrunners. He cracked a smile, appre
ciating the candour. Now he liked her even more.
They walked together down to Carlton’s lab. He still looked tense, with dark circles and bags under his eyes. His slightly thinning hair seemed to have thinned a little more since Chase saw him earlier.
“Hey, Rob. You OK? You look stressed.”
“Yeah. I wish I could cope with all this as well as you two but at least I’ve got you all good to go here,” he said, pointing to the arms.
Chase took a seat. The prosthetics were lined up ready for him and he pushed into them one at a time.
“You’ve been very informal today,” Jane noted as he waited for the arms to boot up. “You’ve just called us both by our first names.”
Chase smiled. “What can I say? I almost died today — again — and you two are my friends, family and unit here. Not to mention the fact that these are making a massive difference to me and potentially others.” He opened and closed his metallic hands as he spoke, happy that they had both started up. “I guess I’m just feeling . . . grateful.”
She smiled a response and Carlton did his best to do the same, slumping back in his chair once he saw the arms were working properly.
“That reminds me, Doc. I had another note for you to add to the wish list. I was watching Star Trek and—”
“Lateral finger movement?” Carlton cut him off, perking up.
“Yes. Exactly. I see you’re a fan too.” Chase wasn’t surprised. Carlton certainly came across as someone likely to be a sci-fi junkie.
“Yes. I did think about that. It’s a little harder to pull off than the wrist articulation we talked about, because it involves more fine motor control. That said, it’s critical to things like holding a pen or catching a ball, for example. Basically it comes down to how well we can get the weave, software and your available nerves working together. The hardware part, as usual, is the easy bit.”