Staying Alive

by Webb, Debra

  “Sir,” Agent Talkington broke in, “the first-floor play area is a padded tugboat playground near Nordstrom’s and Eddie Bauer.”

  “Let me know when we have backup in place. We need to take every possible precaution.”

  “What did he mean,” Claire asked, her mind scrambling to catch up, “when he said I should hurry or a child will die?” All the possibilities, some far more horrifying than others, tumbled through her head.

  Krueger met her gaze, his expression formidable and totally closed to assessment. She didn’t want some prettied-up version of what was going down. She wanted the whole truth. Whatever was happening here she needed to understand.

  “At this point, Miss Grant, we can only assume that he plans to lure you into some kind of trap using a child as bait.”

  Just when she’d thought she had reached her limit for feeling fearful or anxious, a new kind of terror detonated inside her.

  “You’re saying that a child is in danger right now. Because of me?”

  This was her fault.

  Her actions had set off this insanity.

  All the pain and emotion from six years ago came barging in to combine with the mix of fear and worry she suffered here and now.

  Hadn’t she done the right thing back then? Hadn’t she done the same yesterday at the school? Could she have acted any differently and ensured her sister’s survival? Or Peter Reimes’s survival from a cold-blooded terrorist?

  “This isn’t your fault, Miss Grant. This is about a terrorist. An animal capable of unimaginable atrocities. You saved the lives of your students. You didn’t do anything wrong.”

  Confusion as to what to believe joined the already volatile mix of emotions. She wanted to believe Krueger was right. But if a child was harmed today because of what she did…

  “He said I would die.” She mentally reviewed the initial call she had received from Abdul Nusair. “Over and over again.” She didn’t actually get that last comment but she definitely understood the part about dying. “He doesn’t have to bring anyone else into this.” For the first time since this nightmare began she felt a sense of comprehension and determination. “If he wants me, he can have me.” Her gaze locked with Krueger’s.

  “That’s very noble of you, Miss Grant, but remember, we have no choice but to play by his rules. He set this game in motion.”

  She made up her mind then and there. If Nusair called again she would tell him as much. He didn’t have to play this game with her. There was no need for anyone else to be put in danger. Whether Krueger agreed with her or not, she understood what she had to do.

  A calm fell over her and she resigned herself to that fate. Her actions yesterday had been her decision. She would face the consequences.

  “Miss Grant,” Krueger said when she’d been quiet for a couple of minutes, “it’s my job to see that you don’t get hurt. Don’t give up on me already.”

  Claire searched his face and those unusual green eyes. She sensed that he was feeling the weight of guilt now as well. Guilt for what he had proposed to her today. Guilt for what he knew he possessed no power to control. In that way he was just like her…they were in the same boat.

  “Your job, Agent Krueger, is to stop Abdul Nusair. I know where I stand in this particular pecking order. I just want to make sure that no one else, especially a child, gets caught in the crossfire.”

  To her surprise he looked away. She wondered how it was that a man like Krueger, one who had no doubt seen the worst of the worst, could still feel remorse for collateral damage. To her surprise that idea made her admire him all the more.

  Respect, she amended. She respected him. Admired was a little different. She had to remember that…for the next few minutes. After that it probably wouldn’t matter one way or another.

  The driver, Agent Holman, took the necessary turns that led into the mall’s jam-packed parking lot. Agent Talkington directed him to the exit nearest their destination. Hundreds, maybe thousands, of people had been evacuated and moved well away from the entrance on this side of the mall. A wall of Seattle’s finest as well as temporary barricades were in place for crowd control.

  Claire’s heart rate started to climb once more. She clutched her cell phone in her hand and prayed that Nusair would call back before anyone was hurt. She had to convince him to take her and forget all this staged drama. The circus wasn’t necessary. This was between her and him; no one else needed to be involved.

  His son was dead because she had gotten in the way of his plan. As much as she cherished human life, she felt no true regret for what she had done. If she had to repeat those moments a dozen times over, she would not have allowed Peter Reimes to die.

  “Backup, including two snipers, is in place, sir,” Talkington said. “The evacuation of the area is complete with the exception of five people trapped in the Eddie Bauer store.”

  Krueger and Talkington exchanged one of those looks that Claire knew meant she’d been left out of the loop on some aspect of the information.

  “What about the child? Is there a child in danger at the play area? Is there any indication that Nusair is here?” She deserved to know what she was walking into here.

  “We’ll know more about the situation when we get inside.”

  He was hiding something from her. Claire may have only just met the man, but he had been far too direct with her on most things today for her not to notice the way he avoided eye contact now. She studied Agent Talkington. He knew whatever was going on. He’d carefully avoided looking directly at her as well.

  As the driver parked the SUV, Claire steeled herself for what was to come. She had no idea what to brace for other than certain death.

  Maybe that would be enough.

  She got out of the vehicle, her gaze drawn to the looming mall entrance. Of all the times she had been here she had never considered this a place to fear other than for her credit card balance. Now she feared for her life…and for the possibility that an innocent child would be caught in the crossfire.

  Krueger barked orders like a drill sergeant. Three more agents joined their group, gathering around her as if she were the president of the United States. She was completely cloaked by male bodies as they moved toward the mall entrance.

  Once inside the routine continued. Claire couldn’t see anything for the barrier of men all the way around her.

  They stopped abruptly and the group of agents fanned out.

  A base of operations had been set up. A wall about ten feet long and eight feet high shielded them from the playground and blocked her view. When she looked up she could see the second-level gallery. The place was deserted.

  Claire tried to look around but too many agents had crowded behind the makeshift wall for her to see anything on the first level beyond where she stood. Krueger and his team were looking at something she couldn’t see.

  She angled her way between two men and moved in next to Krueger. He was staring out a long, narrow window in the wall that wasn’t a part of the mall’s architecture. Something the backup personnel had put into place evidently.

  Claire tiptoed up to get a better view.

  The oxygen in her lungs evaporated.

  A child, a little boy, no older than ten or eleven stood in the play area made to look like a tugboat. There was an odd bulkiness about the jacket he wore.

  Where was his mother? Or father? Surely he hadn’t been left there alone.

  Alone.

  Realization slammed full force into her chest.

  Of course there was no one else in the play area. The mall had been evacuated.

  Why weren’t the police or the FBI moving in to help this child?

  “Why is that little boy standing out there alone?” She turned to Krueger. “Why isn’t someone helping him? Where are his parents?”

  “Anyone who tries to get near him is stopped by a sniper.”

  Claire was confused. She remembered Talkington saying there were two snipers in place, but she thought they worked fo
r the FBI.

  Krueger wrapped those powerful fingers around her arm and squeezed, maybe to get her attention or maybe because he was afraid she intended to make a run for the boy. “There’s someone shooting at whoever tries to help the boy. Our snipers can’t get a position on the shooter. One mall security guard and one Seattle police officer have already been gravely injured trying to get to him. The police have the boy’s mother in the Eddie Bauer store. Paramedics are treating her for injuries she sustained trying to get her son.”

  Claire started to shake. The tears welled in her eyes but didn’t fall. The rising fury made her tremble so violently she had to wrap her arms around her middle to keep herself still. She had to do something. She looked around. All these trained agents and no one could do anything.

  “This is crazy.” She flinched at how loud her voice sounded in the quiet. “If enough of us make a run for the boy, surely the sniper can’t get us all.”

  “Look again, Miss Grant,” Krueger urged, his own pain evident in his expression now. “See the way the boy’s shirt and jacket protrude in front. He has an explosive strapped to his chest. When the police officer was shot Seattle PD received a call from a man we believe to be Nusair. He warned that if anyone else went near the child, he would activate the charges. We have explosives experts standing by, but we can’t do anything until we receive those additional instructions from Nusair.”

  Claire stared through the narrow window at the boy. “Oh, God.” Now she understood this strange wall or shield. There was also a large container nearby. She’d thought it was one of the mall’s numerous trash receptacles. Now, on closer look, she realized it wasn’t—it was for bomb disposal. Some of the agents behind this shield with her wore SWAT gear with Explosives Unit emblazoned across their chests and backs. She hadn’t noticed any of that until now.

  How could they save that child?

  Why would Nusair do this? He wanted his vengeance. But she was the one who had killed his son. Why didn’t he strap explosives to her chest? Was he doing this because he knew that as a teacher she loved children?

  “You’ll need these.”

  Her attention jerked back to Krueger. He placed a communication device on her T-shirt, near the collar, then tucked what looked like a small hearing aid in her left ear.

  “You’ll be able to hear us and we’ll be able to hear you.”

  “We have to do something,” she pleaded. They couldn’t just stand here. Nusair had said forty-five minutes or the child would die. Time was running out!

  Her cell phone rang. The sound took her breath all over again. This would be Nusair, calling with additional instructions.

  “Go ahead,” Krueger said, “answer it. We’re monitoring your calls.”

  Her fingers were cold and clumsy but somehow she managed to get the phone open. “Hello.”

  “Claire Grant, I see you have arrived on time.”

  “Why are you doing this?” She closed her eyes, hated herself for breaking down. Unable to stop the onslaught, sobs choked into her throat.

  “Pay attention, Miss Grant, I will not repeat myself.”

  “I’m listening.” She scrubbed at her eyes with the back of her free hand. “Tell me what to do. Just don’t hurt the boy.”

  “The boy’s fate is in your hands, Claire Grant. You must go to him. Stay on the line. I will instruct you further when you reach the boy.”

  “I’m going.” She started to move, but Krueger stood in her path.

  The standoff lasted only a few seconds.

  In that fleeting moment she saw the defeat in his eyes.

  He couldn’t protect her.

  He knew it and so did she.

  Krueger stepped out of her path. The rest of the agents moved aside as well.

  Claire cleared the shield and started toward the play area. The boy caught sight of her and started to sob even harder. She was certain he expected her to be shot as the others who’d come near him had.

  Please, God, she prayed, don’t let this child be hurt.

  “It’s okay,” she said to the boy as she came closer.

  Shock radiated through her as recognition kicked in.

  Joey Denton.

  He was in Darlene’s class.

  “Hi, Joey,” she murmured. She tried hard to keep her voice from wobbling. “You doing okay?”

  “Please help me, Miss Grant.”

  “Don’t you worry, Joey, that’s why I’m here. I’m going to get you out of this so you can be with your mom. Okay?”

  He nodded. His eyes were red and swollen. She knew he was scared to death. Then she saw the tether. She’d wondered why the child didn’t make a run for it. Now she knew. One end of the tether was attached to his right wrist with a plastic bracelet, thicker and far stronger than the kind used on hospital patients. No way could she get it off without a knife. It was too tight to slip over his hand.

  “Now unzip his jacket,” Nusair instructed.

  She bracketed the cell phone between her shoulder and her ear and reached for the zipper.

  “Be very careful, Claire, this could be a trap.”

  She jumped. Almost dropped the phone.

  The voice was Krueger’s. He’d spoken to her via the communication device tucked into her left ear.

  She didn’t respond. If she did Nusair would hear and she couldn’t let him know there was any interference coming from Krueger’s people. He’d warned her explicitly about that.

  Slowly, her fingers trembling, she lowered the zipper on the jacket.

  Her heart sank when she saw the bundled mass of gadgetry strapped to the boy’s chest. Layers and layers of duct tape were wrapped around his thin torso, holding the device in place. A digital timer counted down from two minutes ten seconds.

  “As you can see,” Nusair said, “there are several wires in a variety of colors. All you have to do is select the right one to pull free of the mechanism and the timer will stop. Pick the wrong one and the device will detonate. If you run out of time, our game is over.”

  He severed the connection.

  Claire’s cell phone fell to the padded floor. She stared at the bundle. Did she dare touch any of it? If she had a knife she might be able to cut the whole bundle loose from his body and throw it….

  “Talk to me, Claire. Let us guide you through this. Tell me what you see.”

  Krueger.

  “It’s a bomb!” She had to stay calm and think. “It’s…a jumble of different items. A nine-volt battery…what might be a transistor of some sort. Lots of electrical tape and wire nuts and…oh, God, the timer is ticking down really fast.”

  The timer blinked menacingly at her, one minute, forty-eight seconds.

  There would never be enough time.

  “Claire! Listen to me. Don’t touch anything yet. Our bomb squad tech Bob Jackson is going to take you through this.”

  “What color are the wires, Miss Grant?”

  A new voice…

  She moistened her lips, drew in a much-needed breath and forced herself to focus.

  “All different colors. Red, black, white, green, yellow.” Her foot started to tap. She was running out of time.

  Joey’s breathing was ragged, his chest rising and falling with monumental effort. Claire locked gazes with the boy. Please, God, don’t let him breathe too deeply. This thing could go off.

  “Okay, Miss Grant, listen very carefully to me.”

  Claire stilled, held her breath.

  “Look all the way around the device. You see the battery, the transistor and there should be a small solar fuse in the mix. It’ll be a small square or rectangular device. There may be an electrical lightning-bolt symbol on it for ID purposes.”

  “Yes, I see it.” She squatted down to get a better look at the bundle.

  “Do you see anything else?”

  “Duct tape. Something beneath all the gadgets. It’s like a block of…I don’t, molding clay maybe. I’m afraid to touch it.”

  Several seconds of silen
ce followed.

  “What do I do now?” Didn’t they realize her time was running out? “There’s only sixty seconds left. Somebody tell me what to do!” She was screaming.

  One look at Joey’s face and she wanted to tear out her tongue for letting him hear her panic. She held her breath. Told herself to calm.

  “Miss Grant,” Bob said, his voice somber, “this is an IEP, an improvised explosive device. It will not detonate if it is disconnected from the power source, the battery. Do you understand me? It will not detonate when separated from its power source.”

  She tried to see what he meant, but she had to be sure. “I’m not sure what you’re telling me to do.” He had to give this to her in more straightforward terms. “Power source? Do you mean the battery or…or what?”

  “Pull the wires loose. Without the connection to the battery the timer will stop. The battery is the power source.”

  She reached for the wires.

  Her hand froze.

  “Wait! He said if I chose the wrong wire—”

  “Miss Grant, I can’t see what you’re seeing, but from what you’ve described to me this is a homemade device using C-4, a simple timer, a battery and a solar fuse. The C-4 will not detonate without an igniting charge. No power source, no detonation. I think he’s bluffing. Pull the wires loose. Do it now.”

  Claire stared at the jumble of colored wires. “But what if you’re wrong?”

  “I’m going out there.”

  Krueger.

  “Sir, you can’t go out there!” Talkington’s voice blasted in her ear.

  Claire whipped her head around just in time to see Krueger make a lunge for a massive potted plant about six feet from the shield.

  Bullets pinged against the marble floor next to the potted plant.

  “Tell him to go back! Tell him to go back!”

  Claire’s gaze collided with the boy’s as he shouted those words over and over. He was trembling. His eyes were huge.

  Twenty-nine seconds.

  “Miss Grant.” The technician’s voice sounded in her earpiece. “You’re running out of time. Yank the wires loose from the battery. If you don’t do it now, the initial charge will detonate and then the C-4 will blow. You’ll die. The child will die.”