I looked back at the glass, the water now four feet deep inside the vault. We had to get out of here now or we would drown. “If you all are the praying sort, now’s the time.” I held my hands out to my sides, inviting the others to come. My head raged as I waited for all who wanted to join in the prayer to make their way to me. As we all linked hands, the water to our waists now, the sweet clerk, Emily, who had helped me said a sweet, sincere prayer. “God, if it be thy will, spare us this day so that we might live on to help others in need.”
After the prayer, the raging in my head turned to a soft drumbeat. I took a deep breath and closed my eyes. The slight sickness in my stomach seemed to ebb and when I opened my eyes, I could see the last email update on typical passwords that Division had sent out. I was able to think again, and a password I had completely overlooked came to mind. Everything seemed clearer somehow now.
Without a word to anyone, I rushed to the keypad and typed it in. The red light on the keypad turned green and after a tiny click of the lock opening, I pushed on the door, not wasting one second.
With a loud rush of water leaving the room, the steel door creaked open into the area behind it. The water pushed on the guard closest to the opening door, and he struggled to find his balance. The other pointed his gun straight at me. In a flash, I kicked it from his hand and snagged it out of the air, slipping it into my waistband. I advanced. A few well-placed punches made him stumble back into the far wall just in time for me to put my attention on the second guard.
I sent a solid punch right into his Adam’s apple. He grabbed a hold of his neck, choking and gasping for air. I removed his gun from his belt and added it to my waistband. Lam and Freeman joined the fray and pulled the gagging terrorist into the stonewalled prison, throwing him against the wall. He continued to gag and choke.
The remaining guard balled up his fists and clenched his teeth, letting out a little roar as he forced his way through the water to get back to me. Taking advantage of the split second I had as he struggled to move, I went low, kicking at the foot he had raised high over the water. He fell, his head hitting the metal railing of the stairs and he slumped down into the water, dazed and out for the count. I punched him hard in the jaw, my knuckles splitting as they hit bone. His head whipped around and slammed once more into the metal railing and his head drooped. Lam and Freeman returned.
“You’ve got skills, girl,” Lam said. “Good job.”
“Thank you. Could you get him in that room too?” I worked hard to catch my breath. I was obviously not at my best.
“With pleasure.” They dragged him away. I had two guns now. One with one bullet and one with two. Better than a few minutes ago, but still not enough if we ran into any more terrorists. The rest of the freed hostages started pouring into the antechamber.
“Wait! Listen,” I said, fear filling me. “Please, whatever you do, take me and the guy in the tunnels out of your report to the police. We weren’t here.” It dawned on me too late that that wouldn’t work. Why couldn’t I think straight? “Or maybe you could say that two masked people came and helped."
They all looked at me, confusion in their faces. I needed to be more clear, but all I could think about was Jeremy in the sewers fighting for his life.
“Please.”
“You got it,” Lam said, his eyes perusing the group. “It’s the least we can do. You saved us. We’ll all do as you asked. I like the story of masked people coming in and saving us.” He grinned.
Nods and quiet assents came from everyone, even the judges.
“Thank you. Now, we need to get this door closed.” The water had achieved stasis between the antechamber and the room and was rising rapidly in both. I knew it would be difficult to push against the flow.
As many as could, grabbed hold of the door and pushed. Slowly, it closed, then the exodus up the stairs started. What I wanted to do was rush past them in order to save Jeremy. But I knew that if they ended up dying for some reason because I went storming out to save Jeremy, he would never have looked at me the same way. Then a thought struck me, and I called out to the fleeing captives, “Be careful, there are still a few terrorists on the loose.” If they heard me, I couldn’t tell, they were all too busy escaping their prison, and I didn’t want to slow them. As soon as they were all upstairs, I could go after Jeremy. I had to find him in time.
In a flash, it all came together. The terrorists had used the sewer tunnels to get into the courthouse. They needed a way to get their bombs inside the building without having to go through the metal detectors. They weren’t planting bombs down there, it was a passageway. When the storm came, they had to change plans, and this hidden room was the perfect place to let it play out. Drowning everyone inside would be dramatic and daring. It also meant that I knew where to enter the sewers to get to the underground shelter.
The pictures of manhole 83 and 94 popped into my mind.
How was this possible? Jeremy. The last thing I’d really said to him was that I didn’t trust him. My mind went over everything we’d been through starting with the first time he’d protected me in Washington D.C. Of course I trusted him. I had been an idiot. Now he was out there, possibly drowning, and I was here facing terrorists alone all because my insecurities got the better of me. If we made it through this, I would never doubt him again.
He had to be alive. He must have escaped, but why wasn’t he already here? He’d been gone a very long time. I let hope fill me as I started to race up the steps beside Emily who was the last hostage to leave the room.
I stumbled, dizziness overtaking me. I pressed my body into the wall to steady myself.
"Are you okay?" Emily asked, stopping on the stair above me.
“I got a little dizzy that’s all.”
“I’m sure with the large bump on your head, you have a concussion. You should take it easy. Here, I’ll help you up the stairs.” The last of the group had gone through the doorway at the top of the stairs as Emily and I started making our way up again. It wasn’t until we stepped out of the stairwell that strange noises filtered down the hall to us. Cries. Screams. Terror.
I rushed down the hallway, making sure to make the least amount of noise possible. I held my hand up a few feet from the corner that led into the lobby. It stopped Emily in her tracks. I peeked around the corner and jerked back almost immediately, my mind reviewing what my eyes had just seen. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath.
“What’s happening?” Ignoring my better judgment, I explained the scene in the lobby with a whispered voice. “There are three terrorists pointing guns at all the people we just freed, plus others. There’s also a suicide bomber with a jacket full of explosives standing at one side of the circle of hostages and another across the room holding a cell phone in the air. I’m sure it’s the detonator. They seem to be waiting on something.”
My dizziness had prevented us from being in the same predicament. One minute had saved us. Five terrorists. Why were they waiting to blow everyone up? Terrorists struck hard and fast most of the time. Why weren’t they? What were they waiting for?
I took another deep breath. Why? Why was this happening? “These terrorists are like cockroaches.” I said under my breath. “We will never be able to get rid of them.” I huffed and thought about the window in the bathroom. I could get there without being seen. I could climb out the window and go save Jeremy. I could make a break for it. But how could I abandon these people? If I stayed here, I’d lose Jeremy. The choice was unbearable. My insides seemed to cave in.
I peered around the corner again. About one hundred people were smashed together in a circle. Jeremy’s words sang out to me. I’m only one person. They are more important than I am. I knew that if I saved Jeremy and these people died because of it, Jeremy would never forgive me for my selfishness, but how could I leave him to drown in that sewer? My heart and mind fought for several agonizing minutes as I refused to make the decision.
“Jenny?” Emily said in a whisper. “Are you ok
ay?”
She was worried about me, not herself. I needed to be selfless like her. Could I be? Deep in my heart, I knew that if the tables were turned, I would want Jeremy to save the people instead of me. And just like that, another bolt of realization lightning struck my soul. I knew. The terrorists were waiting for the cameras. They were waiting for the storm to pass and word to get out that they were in the courthouse and had hostages that they were going to destroy.
I clenched my teeth and stifled a groan, denying myself the desire to go straight to Jeremy. I worked on a plan of attack. Was it even possible to take the terrorists out without injuring anyone else? Without triggering the bombs hanging on the suicide bomber and killing us all? Could I even shoot both the triggerman and the suicide bomber fast enough to prevent one or the other from detonating the bombs? I was fast, but not that fast. They were at opposite ends of the room. I glanced back around the corner, noticing several security cameras had been destroyed—blown to pieces. They wanted to control what people saw on the news. I leaned on the wall, thinking.
If I could somehow be fast enough, my shots also had to be perfect. The terrorists wore vests. I couldn’t send one into the suicide bomber’s chest. It had to be his brain—a much smaller target. I would only have one shot for him and one for detonator man. Then I could take out the biggest of the three remaining terrorists with my last shot. After that, I would storm in and take out the other two with hand to hand combat. I forced myself to believe it was possible. It wasn’t.
I visualized the scene once more, imagining my actions, the gun pointed out from my stiff arms. I couldn’t imagine it, however. My hands shook, and my eyes clouded with worry. There was so much riding on this, and my head ached. The safety of all those people and Jeremy. I had to get through this fast to get to him.
A cold hand landed on my forearm, and I startled. Emily’s warm eyes met mine and she said, “What are we going to do?”
That was all it took for me to snap back into focus. “Hold on one second. I’m working out a plan.”
I had to figure out a way to overcome the big problem—the distance between detonator man and the one with all the bombs strapped to him. They needed to be taken out simultaneously or the place would be blown to smithereens. If I shot the detonator guy, the guy with the bombs could easily release some fail safe or even shoot himself to get the bombs attached to him to explode. And if I shot the suicide bomber, all the man with the trigger had to do was push the button. And the trigger man had the trigger in his hand, his finger hovering over the button. There was no way I could shoot both of them fast enough to neutralize the threat.
As I was racking my brain for a solution, I heard Emily's sweet voice say,
“Just so you know, I can shoot. I grew up hunting with my dad and four brothers. We have a whole arsenal at home."
No. I couldn’t put that on Emily. She was too sweet. Too untainted. The idea of having her involved with this made me sick. But even as horrible as it was, I recognized that there were only three bullets and two guns. I looked at Emily’s slightly trembling hand and wondered if she could really do it. There was so much pressure.
“I’m a really good shot. I almost never miss.” As she spoke, her hands stopped trembling.
“Killing animals and shooting cans is different than shooting a person.” I grimaced.
“Those people out there are threats,” Emily hissed. “And I’m not going to let them kill hundreds of people. My conscience wouldn’t allow it. I could never live with myself.”
My mind searched for another solution, but none came to me. I looked at this girl, her face white with anticipation and fear. And I knew as sure as the beating of my heart, that it was the right decision, the only decision. I reached into my waistband, my decision made, and handed Emily the Glock with one bullet inside. Emily would shoot the detonator man, and I would shoot the bomber. And if Emily missed, hopefully I would have gotten the bomber down quick enough to get the detonator guy. “I want you to imagine—”
Emily interrupted me. “A clock?”
I smiled. Maybe there really was some hope. “Exactly. Your shot, if he’s still in the same spot, which I will verify, is at two. My shot is at seven. You only have one shot.” The girl nodded, and I could see her mind racing as she accepted that she had to be dead on with her one shot. “I can do this.” Her words were steady and firm.
“Yes, you can.” If she missed, I had no idea how I would fight off three terrorists at once. We practiced twice. Emily trembled between each practice shot and her face seemed to grow graver by the minute. No more practice. We needed to act. We stood next to each other. I counted down, “Three, two, one.”
We turned the corner and shot.
Chapter 12
I watched the suicide bomber I’d shot fall to the ground. Before I could turn and take aim on the detonator guy, he fell. Emily had hit her mark. Two terrorists down. A true miracle, but there was no time for celebrating. Emily had followed my instructions and had lain flat the second after she shot. It was natural for most of the crowd to duck and lay down also, but a few stayed up, frozen in fear.
“Get down, and stay down!” I yelled out.
Shots rang out. I zigged and zagged, readying to take out another terrorist. Bullets struck the floor near me and sailed passed me. As soon as the path cleared, I sent my second shot into the terrorist who had been standing next to the detonator man. His gun clattered to the floor. I knew my aim had been true. He was dead. His large mass slumped to the floor.
To my surprise, Judge Mitchell, Freeman, and Lam were fighting the terrorist I had planned on taking out next. I didn’t want anyone to get hurt, but I appreciated the help. Fighting three men would have been more than difficult, especially in my present state.
There were screams and cries and general wailing. I blocked the sounds and my focus fell on the one obviously well-trained terrorist who was fighting off the three men. He still held a gun. I had to stop him. The last terrorist, however, was moving quickly toward the bomber, his gun raised. He had put his focus back on the original plan. I couldn’t let that happen.
I leapt over clumps of people until I reached him. His attention now turned on me, as I had planned. To my horror, he reached down and grabbed Charlotte, whose screeches clawed at my ears.
He held a gun up to her neck. I rolled, snatching up one of the guns from the fallen. In a split second I registered that it was also a Glock. The weight told me two bullets were inside. I had to make them count. My angle wasn’t good, but I took the shot anyway, a portion of panic getting the better of me. It went wide. I’d been too afraid of hitting Charlotte. With a quick readjustment, I was able to get the perfect shot.
Click. Nothing. The gun was empty or jammed.
I rolled to my feet, avoiding the spray of bullets from the other terrorist’s semiautomatic. It had fallen from his hands, causing it to spray bullets all around. Chaos erupted as everyone moved to avoid the onslaught. Several cried out in pain as bullets struck them.
A hooded figure appeared in my peripheral vision. He was not there a moment ago. That moment of distraction allowed the terrorist who had been holding Charlotte to tackle me. We rolled, and I tried to disentangle myself from his grasp, but he was well trained. When we came to a stop, both of us saw the handgun, only a foot from our heads, at the same time.
He was bigger than I was. Was I faster? We both reached for it at the same time. Our hands collided in midair, but he recovered more quickly than I did and got his hand wrapped around the gun. This was it. He had my legs pinned and his heavy, muscled body draped over mine. I reached fruitlessly for the gun. His reach was longer than mine. He aimed right at my head. I pushed against his body with all my strength.
Nothing.
A shot rang out.
The terrorist’s hand went limp, and the gun tumbled onto my head with a clunk. I saw stars.
I tried to blink them away. Was I shot? I couldn’t feel any pain besides that inside my head.
Had he missed? His heavy body rolled off me, and I opened my eyes. There were still stars, but through them, I saw the only face I wanted to see.
Jeremy’s.
Maybe I was dead. Was I dead? I blinked. Jeremy’s lips moved. Were we in heaven together? I pressed my eyes shut again and kept them that way until I felt lips on mine. My eyes popped open. Those were Jeremy’s lips. He was real. Alive. “Are you okay?”
I tried to nod, but that wasn’t going to happen. A freight train was tumbling through my head.
“I’ll be right back.” He stood and turned away from me. Only then did I notice his arm strapped tightly to him with a torn T-shirt. I heard the sounds of hand to hand combat. I looked to my left to see Jeremy in heated battle, using only one arm, with the terrorist who had been fighting with the Judge, Lam, and Freeman. Like an avenging angel, he took care of the terrorist. His fluid movements were beautiful in their simplicity and power and yet he was wounded, severely. Because of it, the terrorist got in a few good hits, but Jeremy’s skills, even with one arm surpassed his. I had a hard time not simply gawking and admiring him. He was a formidable opponent and true spy.
The terrorist had no hope. He fell in less than a minute.
Whimpering and crying filled the air. Emily and the two judges were up checking on the people around them. It was a beautiful sight to see them all comforting each other. A couple of men who hadn’t been in the shelter gawked at Jeremy, looking frozen.
Tears welled up in my eyes as I forced myself to sit, Jeremy headed my way.
It was Jeremy. Jeremy saved the day. He grabbed me up into his arms and I sobbed. Of all the scary things we’d been through together, this was the worst, mostly because we’d been fighting and I’d said things that I really didn’t feel.
Secrets in the Storm Page 8