Sam displayed his.
"Also, that last cable that Miles connected made it possible to arm the vests. Now that they are armed, trying to disconnect those cables will trigger the detonation." He'd then looked between them. "Any questions?"
"Are you truly ready to give your life for the cause?" CJ had asked him.
"None of us would be here if we weren't."
The van doors closed before CJ had a last chance to mouth good-bye to Stella.
They left the parking lot, returning to I-4, eastbound toward Orlando, Stella's van in the lead. Traffic had begun to pick up, though the sun had yet to rise. Once again CJ started thinking about trying to wreck the van, wondering if the C4 would detonate. As he got to thinking more about it, remembering the class he'd attended, C4 was extremely stable, or insensitive as the presenters had termed it. A bullet fired into a block of C4 would not cause it to detonate. It required a separate blasting cap inserted into it or a detonator cord wrapped around it. He looked down and could see cords coming out of the tops of each of the six blocks. They came together in a bundle and then disappeared into an inner pocket.
He looked at the arming cables, considered unplugging them and blowing this three-man team to smithereens, but that'd only take care of one van. Stella would still be able to carry out the mission and then she'd definitely be killed and maybe even Trish and Stella's family if they followed through on their threats. If he and Stella did exactly what they were told, no one would have to die.
CJ had no choice but to trust Rory's word. There was no upside to any other option.
He took a deep breath, feeling the tightness wrapped around his chest, the inability to fully inflate his lungs. Was that because of the heavy vest strapped to his body or the stress of whatever was coming, the not knowing what was going to happen, the having no power to influence the outcome? He took another forced breath, smelled his fear oozing from his pores... and something else.
He blew out the breath, held for a few seconds and then slowly inhaled, focusing on the odor, separating it from his own. It had been there ever since they strapped the vest to him, slight but definite nonetheless. Until now he hadn't given it much thought, had passed it off as a characteristic of the explosive. He thought back to the class he'd attended, put on in Phoenix by Homeland Security to familiarize local law enforcement with various military level explosives: RDX, PETN, HMX, Semtex and C4. They were able to examine samples of each, including color and smell. None of them, except the C4, looked anything like what he was wearing. The sample he'd seen in the class was packaged in a military green wrapper, gold lettering identifying it as a C4 demolition charge, along with its weight. Something better than a pound he recalled. He looked down at the six packages spread across his chest and noted that the color was more blue than green. He also noticed that none of them had words stenciled on the outside.
He set that bullet point aside and again focused on the smell.
The presenter in the class had cut open a block and encouraged the attendees to touch and smell it. Oily, a whiff of petroleum, CJ recalled; the color of straw in his mind, light brown as described by the presenter.
He looked at the end of one block, pulled the cut wrapper aside where the blasting cap had been inserted, wished he could turn on a light to see better. He sniffed again. Oily was not what came to mind. This was something else, something familiar but on which he was not able to put his finger. Whatever it was, it was important. In what way, he didn't know, but he was certain that if he kept working at it, it'd come to him.
"I wouldn't be fooling with that if I were you."
CJ lifted his head, pulling his focus away from the C4 blocks to find Rory looking back at him. He dropped his hands away from the packages.
"If you're thinking about doing something stupid, that'd be exactly what it'd be. Stupid. You'd be sacrificing your life for no reason, as well as the lives of your lady friend and, of course, your daughter. The mission would still go off as planned.
"How much longer?" CJ asked.
"We'll get there when we get there. Sit back and enjoy the ride."
CJ sat back and closed his eyes. There was no enjoyment to be had.
Chapter 41
Just as the sun started lighting the sky they took Exit 67 off the interstate, a long exit that kept bearing right until it merged onto Route 536, running due east. The Marriott World Center dominated the northern skyline. A half mile later they turned north onto World Center Drive and navigated around the huge complex.
Again they parked side-by-side, the numerous high-rises of the Marriott loaming over them. At any other time CJ would have been awed by the magnificence of it, but right now his thoughts were most certainly elsewhere, taking little more than a glance.
They sat doing absolutely nothing for a long time, side doors closed. At 8:20, by the readout on the van's dash, Rory climbed to the back and opened the door. A few seconds later the other door opened to reveal Sam. Stella was seated as before, still looking pale, and just as scared.
Sam disappeared to the back for a few seconds, returning with a handful of dark blue windbreakers. He threw one in Stella's lap. Rory appeared next to CJ with an identical handful of windbreakers. He handed one to CJ.
"Put these on and zip them up," he said loud enough for both CJ and Stella to hear. "They're large enough to cover your vests while we walk into the building."
CJ could see part of a stencil on the back of his. He held it out and looked at the gold SECURITY in big, bold letters. He had been wondering how they were going to get into the building without being noticed.
"Put it on," Sam said.
CJ did, saw that Stella was trying to zip hers up, her hands shaking. He did the same, noted that his hands were trembling a bit as well.
"You've already said it," CJ said. "You don't need both of us. Let her go. I'll do exactly what you say."
"Gabe," Rory said, an implied order to the tone.
Gabe came out of the driver's seat, climbed to the cargo area, crossed over to Stella's side and produced a handgun. He chambered a round and put the gun to her head.
"No!" CJ yelled.
"No?" Rory said. "Then you be a smart bloke and keep your mouth shut. Do not open it unless you are told to open it. You don't ask questions, you don't make suggestions, you don't clear your throat unless you are invited to do so. You say nothing unless you are prompted by one of us. Is that understood?"
CJ looked over at Stella. She was holding her breath, eyes closed, jaws clenched, shaking so badly he thought she was going to have a heart attack.
"Yes," CJ said, nodding.
"Very good. Gabe, stand down."
Gabe did and Stella nearly collapsed from her seat to the floor.
"Now, the both of you, listen up," Rory continued. "We are going to exit the vehicles in a short time and walk as a group into the building in single file. I and Sam will be in the front, next Mister Washburn, then Ms. Summers followed by Miles and Gabe. We will all be wearing these stylish jackets and ball caps."
With that Sam produced six ball caps, same color as the windbreakers, SECURITY emblazoned across the fronts.
"Make any necessary fitting adjustments right now and put them on."
CJ's fit just fine. He watched as Stella fought with hers, shaking so bad she couldn't figure out the adjustment. Finally Rory stepped over, took the hat from her, made the adjustment and gently placed it on her head.
"Does that feel better?" he said as though they were getting ready for a picnic.
Stella took some deep breaths and nodded.
He placed his hand on her arm. "Relax. Everything will be fine and you'll have some interesting stories to tell your nephew."
Her shaking turned to a glare.
"Okay now," he said, returning to CJ's van. "We will enter the building single file. It'll be a bit of a ways but with these jackets we will not be stopped or challenged. We are heading for the Tampa Meeting Room."
Now CJ understood t
he confusion on his and Stella's part. They'd heard World Center and Tampa and had assumed from that that the summit was in Tampa. It was actually in the Tampa Meeting Room of the Marriott World Center in Orlando.
"The attendees will have just assembled following their breakfast elsewhere. The eight delegates will be seated at a round table set up in the middle while their staffs will be arranged in seating around them. When we enter I will go left and Sam will go right. Mister Washburn will follow me, Ms. Summers will follow Sam.
"Do you understand? This is where you say only yes or no."
"Yes," CJ said.
"Yes," Stella said, her voice barely above a squeak.
"Good. This next piece is your most important part in this dramatic play. When we stop and turn to face the attendees I will give the order for you to open your jackets fully and display your fine wares. At the same time the four of us will be displaying automatic weapons and I will begin explaining why we are interrupting their meeting. From then on you two will only have one thing to do and that is stand right where you are until you are told otherwise, keeping your vests displayed."
He looked between the two of them. "Do you both have the picture?"
"Yes," Stella said.
CJ opened his mouth, but was afraid to say anything except, yes.
"You have a question, Mister Washburn?"
"Yes."
"Ask away. The floor is open for you until I tell you it is not."
"You make your statement and then walk away. Is that right?"
"Pretty much, yes. Not something you have to worry about."
"You can be identified. You'll be tracked down."
"Not as easy as it may seem. And as long as no one dies, the charges, should we be caught, thus jail time, would be minimal in any case."
"Two people are dead already."
"We didn't kill them."
Rory's cell phone rang.
"Shut up now," he said to CJ, touched something on the screen and put the phone to his ear. "We are ready. Is it time?" He listened and then said, "We will leave in ten minutes."
He put the phone away and looked at his watch. "They are assembling in the Tampa Room right now. Prepare gentlemen."
CJ had noticed several shoulder packs, long enough to contain the automatic weapons Rory alluded to. They didn't open them, had set them aside while they adjusted sidearms that were concealed under oversized shirts. Except to a trained or knowledgeable observer, no one would take notice. As he got to thinking about it, considering the shape of the packs, they could contain Uzi-like automatic or semi-automatic weapons with attached magazines. CJ hoped he was being over paranoid about it, but what else could they be? With vests packed with C4, anything was possible, most likely probable.
Finished with sidearm preparation, they put on their jackets, donned the hats and wrap-around sunglasses and then waited.
CJ could feel his bowels loosening just a tad. He was fairly certain that now wasn't a good time to raise his hand and ask for a bathroom break. He looked over at Stella, wished she'd open her eyes so he could see how she was coping. Her head resting against the window, she was occasionally taking a deep breath. And then CJ noticed that her purse was no longer on the floor.
Where did it go and what the hell was she thinking?
They just sat, and the minutes ticked by slower than the long hours the night before.
Chapter 42
Miles moved the other van so that there was about ten feet between them and then they all climbed out and gathered in that space.
CJ figured out that Stella's purse had to be underneath the jacket, hanging from her shoulder. He tried to communicate with her with his eyes, shifting his gaze from her face to where he thought the purse resided, back and forth a couple of time. She shook her head and looked away, jaw tight. What did that mean? There wasn't much chance that she'd try anything heroic now, he was certain, with the jackets zipped up. And in the Tampa Room when they opened the jackets it'd be well too late to do something really stupid.
Of course, he wasn't without trying to come up with something really stupid to do himself. Jump one, pull his sidearm, shoot them all in the head before they could react. Certainly more downside than upside to that idea.
"Mouths shut," Rory reminded CJ and Stella and they headed out, single file just as he had instructed.
There were people all about, coming and going between the Marriott and the parking lot, but not a crowd. Those who noticed them gave no more than a curious glance.
A bunch of security people... police... look the other way, were the likely thoughts.
They'd all make terrible witnesses. No matter, though. The hotel had security cameras for certain and everything, once they entered the building, maybe even in the parking lot, would be captured for micro analysis. CJ had the four men by about two inches. The analysts would be able to pick out him and Stella easily, but that'd be about it. With ball caps and sunglasses and with each man about the same size and same complexion, CJ doubted the FBI would be able to get reasonable identification. But he and Stella could ID them. Hell, he knew the full names of two of them, one of whom had been in police custody for a time. If, as Rory had said, they were to leave CJ and Stella alive, he and Sam would be on the run forever, would likely return to Northern Ireland and disappear. Is that what they wanted? Why would they say they were going to leave the two of them alive?
Another thing CJ was curious about was, who was Rory talking to on his phone? Was it the boss lady or some other plant on the inside of the Marriot Hotel? And what was to be their exit strategy?
They entered through a side entrance, each in turn catching the door and holding it for the person after them. CJ analyzed the pack slung off Sam's shoulder, and determined that it, in fact, contained an automatic weapon. All he could picture was an Uzi, deadly in a small room full of people; and there were four such weapons.
It was a good minute of steady walking before they came to a stop at a door with a plaque to the side announcing the Tampa Room. The door was closed. Without a word spoken the four men released their packs and began opening them. They paused for a few seconds, looking both ways up and down the hall, ensuring that there were no observers, and then pulled out their weapons.
Bushmaster was the word that came to CJ's mind. The Bushmaster was the famous weapon that killed ten and wounded three others in the 2002 Washington Beltway sniper attacks. Over the years it had been referred to as a weapon of mass destruction. But upon closer inspection, CJ realized that this wasn't a Bushmaster.
What it was, he had no idea. A knock off design? Something new that was just being introduced into the U.S.? At this point knowing what it was made little difference. They were either going to kill with them or they weren't.
Rory opened the door and they all filed in like they were getting ready to do a presentation before the G8 delegates.
Rory went left and Sam right. CJ stayed on Rory's heel, as he was instructed, glancing over his shoulder to see Gabe behind him and Stella following Sam, followed by Miles. A woman was standing in front of her seat at a network of tables forming a square–maybe G8's version of the Round Table– her mouth frozen in midsentence. All heads had swiveled toward the group of intruders, questioning looks turning to horror and fright when the weapons were spotted.
"Attention! Attention! Attention!" Rory called, holding his weapon over his head. "I want silence!"
Someone whispered.
"Silence now!" Rory demanded again, pointing his weapon at the individual, a young man. The man locked his jaws and bowed his head.
"Cell phones on the floor, now! If anyone manages to make a call, that person and the person closest to them will be shot immediately."
CJ watched everyone, praying that no one tried to be heroic and do something stupid.
"You!" Rory stepped toward a dark-skinned man. "Hand me your phone, now."
CJ had noticed that the man, not one of the delegates, hadn't set his phone down, though it di
d not appear he'd been trying to dial. He just stood there, jaw hanging, phone in his hand as though he had been talking to someone.
Rory pointed and motioned to give it up. The man looked down as though he hadn't been aware that he was holding it and then presented it to Rory, horror and confusion etched over his face. Rory looked at it, seemed satisfied and then threw it aside.
"Now listen to me carefully." He pointed to the eight delegates. "You eight... stand up and move to that wall... now!"
In some semblance of confusion, they did what they were told, lining up along the wall indicated. At the same time Miles and Gabe had moved to the two doors and blocked them closed from anyone entering.
"Everyone else, sit on the floor in front of them."
They did as they were told, some much quicker than others. All told, by CJ's calculation, two minutes had elapsed since they had entered. Roughly thirty people stood or sat along one wall, a two-to-one mixture of men and women.
"Thank you for making that easy. Ms. Summers and Mister Washburn, open your jackets now. Show everyone what you are wearing."
The gasps and utterances of horror where audible and visible as CJ and Stella unzipped their jackets and revealed the blocks of C4 and wires.
"Silence!" Rory yelled. The room went instantly quiet except for a woman sobbing. "If you don't want these bombs to go off, you will keep your mouths shut, listen carefully and do exactly what you are told. There is no need for anyone to die today."
A few heads swiveled back and forth between Stella, CJ and Rory. Others just stared down at the floor, appearing to mouth silent prayers.
"Mister Washburn and Ms. Summers," Rory said. He pointed. "You will now move all the tables out of the way, along that wall and that wall."
Stella and CJ began moving tables. When they were done there was a big open space in the middle. Except for a scattering of briefcases and purses, there was a clear line between the G8 crowd and the doors where Miles and Gabe stood, Rory and Sam in the middle.
Sailing into Death (CJ Washburn, PI Book 2) Page 27