The two agents looked at each other and then at her. The red-haired agent said, “Well, no ma’am. I mean yes, he holds the highest score, record, honors, whatever you want to call it, in our class. But the fact is, no one in recent history has outperformed him and until he joined the Bureau, there is no record of anyone with his marksmanship capabilities ever at the Academy.”
“Interesting,” Pahlavi said as she squinted to process their conversation. “I knew that there was ‘someone’ they called the Bullseye Messiah... but never even considered that I would encounter him. If this is him, that is. He’s a good agent then?”
“Yes,” they answered in unison.
“Harleyman has patience. He can defuse a situation without having to draw his weapon. But if he does, he’ll win,” The red-haired agent added.
The blonde agent cleared his throat and then in a serious tone added, “Call his SAC in Seattle, they’ll pull his records anyway because of this incident. They’ll tell you. You’ll see.”
Agent Pahlavi took in their brief but important conversation and made some notes. She glanced back up at them, nodded to convey her thanks, then dismissed them.
She turned to Officer Boulder and they began the process to pair up a Port officer with an FBI Agent and sent them as a group to access their assigned entry points in the active green sector that Doris found on the Port security map. Her agents needed the access and what better way than team them up with an officer from the Port. She gave each pair detailed plans to study while they waited to access the doors and actively pursue the seven that she was sure would be found on the ‘other side.’
Pahlavi stood in one spot and turned to address the group. “We will access in thirty minutes from now. Heads up. I want our five brought out safe. Since the Port Manager is still unaccounted for, I assume, based on much information, that he is not friendly. I prefer he, and his cohort in the photo, be brought in alive for questioning.”
The group broke and headed to their assigned places in the airport. Agent Pahlavi called to Rick, the head of maintenance, to follow her to the back of the office first. She intended to find out what he knew about the fountain access points and possible tie-in to the information, or rather rumors, that she gathered from Carlton. As bizarre as it sounded.
“So, is there another access point to the plumbing that feeds the fountain?” Pahlavi asked, getting right down to the question that was humming in her head.
“Well, I have never seen any other access, believe me. Because of the conspiracy theories over the years, it’s not because I didn’t search!” He laughed before he realized that he should remain somber. “There is a main access point for the plumbers, should they need to do repairs but it is an obvious system that runs from the water main. The largest inconsistency in the system from other commercial systems is that the pipes are rather large before the water meter. Then, the original large pipes from the previous construction site are still in use up to the water fountain. Once they hit the connection to the fountain, the plumbing is standard.”
“So... how large is large? The original pipes that you are describing, that is?” Pahlavi asked.
“They are the size of a small culvert. A person could squat and crab walk through it as they do any repairs.”
“So, let’s just speculate that there could be some sort of wider or larger plumbing system somewhere else under here. Even larger than the one you just described. Like a pipe system that is possibly five times larger; in diameter, let’s say? How would someone discover it? Or where would one do research to find it?” Pahlavi asked.
Again, Rick let out a chuckle. “I’m sorry, I don’t t mean to laugh. It’s just that... I uh... I’ve actually... okay... here’s the truth.” He nodded his head slightly up and down as he looked at Pahlavi with a grin. “I’ve actually done every search, in every city department, and every library looking for some sort of secret plans. I’ve even spoken with a historian trying to find or debunk this crazy theory that there is some sort of secret buried underneath PDX. There is nothing. Nada. Nein.”
“So, if someone was on the other side of security, they wouldn’t find any way to access some secret pipe chamber?” Pahlavi asked.
“Like a chamber of secrets? A basilisk roaming in our piping system?” Rick teased.
“Now you are making fun of me, aren’t you?” Pahlavi said, breaking her serious tone with a small airy grunt. She wished she could have worded it differently, but it did sound Potterish now that she thought about it.
“No, I’m not. If anything, I’m making fun of myself for admitting to you that I spent any time at all trying to find such a thing myself. Or any other employee that has insisted they just knew there was a secret entrance somewhere because their uncle’s, boss’s, cousin in Tallahassee said that her friend’s mom’s 3rd husband heard once that it is true from a guy who used to work for the Max Light Rail. I mean really, what would be the point? Because if there was a point, the airport would have been attacked by now... don’t you think?”
“True, I’ll keep your words in mind. In the meantime, if you hear any whisssspers in the walls, let me know, okay?” she said in a serious tone before she finally cracked a slight smile.
“You got it,” he chuckled, as he watched her walk away.
Pahlavi walked over to Officer Lansing, the Port Police officer, and asked her if she could stay with Carolyn. When Lansing looked back at Boulder to check if he heard her, and to approve the command that came from the FBI agent instead of her superior, Boulder nodded his assent. Lansing and Carolyn retreated to a back office to remain out of the way and Pahlavi and Boulder walked away to join the search.
Chapter 30
Green Is For Go
Mr. T had pushed the big green button. The little room that the shivering group huddled in immediately began moving forward to the wide-eyed astonishment of the group. Not being prepared, they fell sideways in one lump towards the back of the small cavern, caught off-guard by the mysterious motion. Beau caught Crutch by the shoulder of his wet shirt to keep him from falling off the slick bench they were on. Samantha managed to stay on the bench.
Jahnni could feel the bottom of the room being linked to a moving chain-like device because it made a ratcheting sound like a roller coaster chain grabbing onto the track before it begins its ascent to the pinnacle of the ride. It felt like they were ascending. She looked at Beau to see if he noticed it as well. She tried to visualize their underground bearings in relationship to the airport.
Beau pulled back from her slightly and lifted her chin. “I’ve kept a running picture in my head of the probable height, depth, and direction we have traveled since our little journey began with the first overhead announcement to exit the concourse. I don’t get it, but hopefully all this will make sense, soon.”
He stopped talking and encircled whoever he could reach with his left arm, as their shivers traveled like electricity through them. Mr. T was standing by the buttons on the front wall, and hanging onto the handles built into the wall. Beau turned slightly and used his right arm to reach across her and add more warmth for Jahnni by rubbing her left shoulder as she leaned into him. He poked Crutch to get his attention. “You doing okay buddy?”
“Yyyyyeesss,” he stuttered, before they all started laughing at his chattering voice.
Mr. T spoke up. “Not too long. We get dry and get warm clothes.”
“Wwwhere are we going, Mr. Trrrroooo... Mr. tttT?” Samantha shouted over the noise of the ‘room’ and commotion of everyone grappling to remain on the seat they sat on.
He seemed to have a steady grasp on the wall handle, then he smiled widely and answered Samantha, “I take you to safe place. I tell you before that I take care of you all. I tell you the truth! I take care of you.” Then he looked at Jahnni and nodded, “I promise my boy here that I get you all safe.”
Jahnni looked at Crutch, then at Sam. “I know you will, Mmmr. T. I know you will. Just tttell us what we can do.”
Mr.
T, still gripping the hand support said, “Nothing right now. But, I suggest you all sit back, and grab handles above your head. Relax. This will be fuuuuuunnnn...” he raised an octave as the little room, that was shaped like a gondola, took a controlled dive downward. Jahnni soon felt a drag take hold of their enclosure but it continued its journey in what felt like a more level course.
“Okay,” Mr. T added, “now we will soon climb. Hold on guys! It come soon.” Before he finished his sentence, Jahnni felt the bottom once again clang onto a chain that began an ascent. A minute or two later they came to a complete, level stop.
“I know it probably doesn’t seem possible, Pops, but... did we... just... go under the Columbia River?” Beau asked as his eyes scanned the little room. “Is this more like a gondola, or train car? Because it obviously isn’t a little stationary room, and I’m pretty confident we moved north.”
“I knew you had scientific brain, my boy! Why you choose FBI instead of drafting table is mystery to me.” Mr. T chuckled.
The door latch began turning of its own volition around and around. They all stared at each other and then at the door as if seeing a ghost operating the mechanisms. Catching a quick glimpse of the others, Jahnni realized that there is absolutely no reason to even think anyone of them understood what was happening. Until they all glanced at Mr. T. He had let go of the handle that kept him steady on the ride to this new destination. He slowly walked towards the hatch with a slight puzzlement on his face and a tentative gait that slowed his movement. The realization of something must have tipped his decision over the zenith of his momentary confusion because Jahnni watched the questioning look on his face change to happiness. Mr. T was now standing in front of the hatch with a very large smile on his face. He groomed his hair down with his hands, slicking it back off his face, and tamping it down at the crown. His hat was lost back in the water feature that churned them around. Standing almost ramrod straight, he held his head high as he adjusted his shoulders in his damp suit, wiggled his arms downward as if being fitted by a tailor and patiently waited.
The hatch door lost the vacuum seal with a sucking release and swung open. Mr. T let out an emotional sigh and grabbed the edges of the opening, looking at the person standing on the other side of the hatch door. He was the first to lift his leg over the edge and immediately grabbed onto the man standing on the other side. They embraced and sobbed through laughter and hugs. They pulled apart, studied each other’s face and then embraced again, wiping their own eyes and cheeks with their free hands. The others were silent, watching the scene before them. Jahnni spoke first, breaking the group’s frozen gazes.
“Are you, I mean, could you possibly be... uh...” Jahnni stumbled the words out.
“Uncle Zale?” Beau asked.
Chapter 31
We’re Comin’ In
Delaram Pahlavi was just one among the several Port Police and FBI agents taking their places by their respective entrance points to access the secured area. Other Port Police stood guard at the inside doors around the airport, should any of the seven individuals try to remove themselves from behind the secured area.
She looked at her watch and glanced across the baggage pickup area to make eye contact with her team at the furthest access door that was in this area of the green parameter. She gave a hand command to proceed and received the universal okay hand gesture from those that had a visual on her. The Port officer assigned to his or her FBI agent accessed their respective doors with their badges and codes then opened their bypass doors swiftly and quietly, shutting the doors immediately behind them to prevent the alarm from sounding. She grabbed her SAT phone and made clicking noises on a button meant to convey a silent order to move forward to the rest of the teams that were not within sight range. The cat and mouse game was on and adrenaline was high.
Teams were coursing through the bagwell and searching behind bins, machinery, and every alcove. One would signal to the other to cover them and cross the small roadway under the airport, meant for baggage tugs that delivered bags to and from airplanes. They were fanned out, yet most had a visual on the other teams when they had a clear moment to stop and view the entire area of roadways and bag belts. While one was scanning the accessible floor area, the other was pointing their rifle or handgun above them, scanning the belt system that clung to the ceilings and wound its way down again to each airline’s baggage sorting area. At various points, agents scaled the winding belts above their head, then signaled with their hands to the agent on the ground that it was clear. As each team arrived at an airline’s bagwell, the search included a thorough search of every bag cart. Some sat empty, some were partially or fully loaded with suitcases, duffel bags, backpacks, and overnight cases. A handful of dogs or cats were locked in travel crates, awaiting transport among all the airlines checked items. Agent Pahlavi made a mental note to pass the info on to have the animals checked as soon as the incident was over and the area was clear. She didn’t have time to see if they needed water and food, and although their silence was odd, it was welcome. The teams continued their search in the bagwells then began accessing the hallways that branched off like tunnels under the main part of the airport.
“This way,” Boulder whispered, more like a silent lip reading, as he led Pahlavi down a corridor that had restrooms, and various doors that led to more offices. In the first, there were long rows of tables with computers lined up in front of its corresponding chair. This caused Pahlavi to assume this was a classroom for training airline ticketing or boarding agents. The whiteboard had a vertical list of words on one side, and what appeared to be a randomly ordered list of answers across from the first list. She read all the words. ARNK, Open Jaw, Direct, PNR, LEO, FLEO, FAM, FFDO. They sure speak a different language here, she told herself in her head.
Her SAT phone made a silent vibration and she froze. She squinted her eyes and read the text. Boulder noticed that she had stopped and he turned to glance over his shoulder, then back again to keep his eyes ahead, watching for danger. After Pahlavi backed into an alcove, she reached out and tapped his shoulder. She motioned for him to back towards her into the secure corner. She showed him the text she’d received.
She decided to complete their search in this particular wing under the airport, because she knew that they would eventually meet up with another team very soon as they completed a circle, some teams searching clockwise and others, counterclockwise. When the entire underground north side of the airport was clear, she signaled with the SAT phone that they were coming towards the south side, having cleared their assigned parameters.
She had considered very briefly, backing away from the search after she received the message, but she knew that even if they had a visual on the unfriendly Person of Interest, there still could be hostages secluded elsewhere. In her experience, POI’s tended to have a backup plan that generally included bargaining, or something of value to threaten, in the hopes of securing a release. So far, they found no one else anywhere and it increased her fears that they wouldn’t find them in time. Her tenacity pushed her forward, refusing to give up or leave any stone unturned. Hang on guys. We’ll find you, she thought to herself, hoping to will it true.
Other teams had done a perimeter search around the building that included under the bellies of the aircraft that were pushed back away from the ramp when the emergency went into effect. If there was someone hidden, they would have found them. Just like another team had found Perry Prattle. That was the message that Pahlavi received before she continued the search for the rest of the missing people. POI under observation#holding back#alaska airlines luggage sorting area.
Pahlavi and Boulder came around the corner and quietly joined the group watching Prattle. Liam, Pahlavi’s partner was with another Port Policeman. She nodded to him when they saw each other. She quietly watched Perry, as did the others. Without a care, other than his immediate concern, they observed him scratching and clawing at a large hole in the wall under the area of the fountain, a tool in his
hand that looked like a gardening hand rake. He appeared to be trying to access what Pahlavi ascertained as probably plumbing fixtures; if she was to make a wild guess as to what was ensconced in the pillar. His movements were erratic and she couldn’t understand what he intended to gain by using his hands and a small tool to scratch and chip away at a surface that was unyielding. On the floor beside him was a tool bag. Sitting on the floor beside the bag was an oscillating multi-tool and several attachment heads that showed use. She observed him long enough to realize that the battery must have died. In his determination, he must have thought he could use his hands to finish the job. That would never happen. He picked up a hammer and began to slam the pillar, trying to breach the heavy concrete surface. After knocking out chips here and there, he again, began using his hands to pick at pieces of loosened paint and concrete chips.
They all watched him for some time, as they kept their cover. The last thing they wanted was to grab him and realize that he was strapped with a suicide vest. Pahlavi knew that they were doing the same intense visual on his movements as she was. They were eliminating that threat.
They could all see that he had a gun tucked into the back of the waistband of his pants and one strapped to his side in a holster, clinging to his wet sweaty shirt. His shirt was half-tucked in, his pants were covered in dust, and his hair was disheveled as sweat poured down the side of his face. They had seen enough. She pointed at two teams to take him down. Always assuming he could also have a weapon at his ankle, they moved in to do a routine takedown and pinned him to the ground, searching and cuffing him. They made no noise other than the scuffling and grunting of energy expended while doing their job. Prattle must not have heard them come upon him, because he froze like a limp doll and rolled with the takedown. He did not resist their force and his face appeared vacant, stunned. The teams remained silent as some were part of the apprehension and some kept a vigil on the area behind them.
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