The room filled with a low murmur.
The agent held up his hand. “I understand your nervousness, but I assure you, we have a strong trail. We’re not going to let this bomb go off. As we speak, agents are positioned all over the city. We are covering every possible site, including this one.” He paused. “And that brings me to my second point. In reference to the lock down, while you’re in the station, don’t go anywhere without your security badges. Our men will be patrolling the halls. They don’t know who you are or how important your job is. All they know is that they have standing orders to apprehend anyone who does not have a security badge. Please be patient if you are taken into custody.” He finished and looked to the general manager.
“Thank you, Agent Cooper.” He again looked at the faces around him. “The FBI has been given complete authority for the safety of this facility and its staff. Cooperate with them. Are there any questions?” He probed the room. “Okay. Get to work.”
The room filled with conversation as the staff slowly filtered out. Through the exiting bodies, David found himself staring at the face of Agent Cooper. He knew he had to tell him about the boxes in the Arab’s van, but he needed to do it privately. Assuming Mr. Cooper kept the information confidential, David would have time to get home and get his family somewhere safe.
He pushed his way around the table and behind the five agents, who were now standing with the general manager and the news director, discussing the location of the command center.
As David waited to interject, his pocket started to vibrate. He pulled out his phone and flipped it open. A text message came up on the screen. “Do you think I don’t know what you are doing, Kafir?” He almost dropped the phone. Kafir––the Arabic word for unbeliever, the Arab on the video had used it! David’s mind raced. Who did this message come from? The terrorists? But how would they KNOW? His eyes came up and met those of Agent Cooper. David’s heart panicked.
“You okay?” The man’s tone was probing.
What could he say? He couldn’t tell him what the message said––yet his panicked look demanded an explanation.
Agent Cooper waited expectantly.
The best lies were the ones that contained an element of truth; he had learned that tidbit from his father. “Ah- I just, got a troubling text message I have to deal with immediately.” He closed his phone and slipped it in his pocket. “Can I come talk with you later?”
Cooper examined him with an intense stare, then nodded. “Of course.” He turned back to the other men.
David lowered his eyes and made his way around the table. Every nerve in his body was on fire. He had to get out of the room before anyone asked him any questions; he had to think things through. How could the terrorists track him down? How did they know about him? It didn’t make any sense!
The phone vibrated again. David walked briskly down the hall and stepped into an empty sales office. He pushed a sweaty hand into his pocket and brought the phone out. “I didn’t think your son would stay quiet. I hope you have the good sense to set a better example. Think of your family.”
My family! David thumbed a reply. “I haven’t said anything, and I won’t.” He clicked send, flipped the phone shut, and sank down into a visitor’s chair near the sales desk.
What a nightmare! He had to warn his family. Could he warn them? Would that set the terrorists off? Were they watching his house? They must have been; how else could they have known about the conversation he’d had with his son? The phone vibrated again, and David’s heart jumped.
He put his hand in his pocket and felt the phone, but his mind refused to send the signal to draw it out. What else would they say? Would there be demands? Would there be threats? I don’t want to know! I don’t want to do this! I DON’T want to do this! He yanked the phone out and flipped it open. A message came up. “Error 6629 number unknown.” The text message he’d sent could not find a number to send to. Apparently, his communication with the Arab was only one way.
A voice startled him. “Tough meeting, huh?” He whipped around to see Karen Watson standing in the doorway. “You okay? You’re as white as a sheet.”
He took in a breath. “Personal problems at home.”
“Anything I can help with?”
“My son’s in trouble. I may need to go.”
“What kind of trouble?” She didn’t wait for an answer. “I don’t mean to sound heartless, but can it wait?”
He held his composure and looked up. “Why? What do you need?”
“Jim and I want to talk with you for a second, to pick your brain, find out what you know about Brad’s current projects.”
“Ah––Yeah. Sure.” He looked around. “Ah, just give me a second to make one more call, okay?”
“Meet us in Jim’s office in five minutes.”
“Okay.”
She moved down the hall, and David brought the phone up again. He had to warn Alex. He only hoped he wasn’t too late.
He punched in the number and the phone began a gurgled ring. “Come on. Come on! Pick up!”
Click. “Hello?” It was Alex.
“Oh thank God, Alex. Is everything okay?”
“Why do I get the sense I should be worried? Where are you? At the station?”
“Yes. Where’s my family? Are they all right?”
“Safe and sound. Why? What’s going on?”
How much could he say? If the phones were tapped... How could the phones be tapped? That was madness! The Arab wouldn’t have had time to tap the phones! “Look. I don’t know how, but the Arabs followed Ben home and somehow heard our conversation about the boxes.”
“What? You’re kidding me?”
“No. They just sent me a text message. I know it was from them. They talked about Ben and they know I know about the boxes.”
Alex dropped his voice. “How could they...”
“We are talking about a group who has secured radioactive material, probably to make dirty bombs.”
“Okay. Point taken.” Alex paused. “You know, I saw a device on a movie once that could eavesdrop on a room from several hundred yards away by using a laser beam. The laser detected the vibration of sound on a window and relayed the sound back. Does that technology really exist?”
“I think so. I think I’ve heard of something like that. If you’re right you need to get somewhere where there are no windows. –I know, take the family down to the basement. Then we can talk freely.”
“Good idea. Hold on.”
David listened. There was movement and whispers. The wait was excruciating, but finally he heard the familiar creak of his cellar stairs, and the shutting of a door.
“Okay. We’re in the cellar. What else do you know? Did your friend find out anything about your Arab neighbor?”
“Nothing very useful. But Nerd thinks the name is an alias. There wasn’t a whole lot I could find out, but other things have developed. When I got here I walked right into a hostage crisis. One of our field reporters was taken this morning after a cameraman was shot dead in the news truck. They think it was terrorists. The FBI has taken over the station.”
“Oh my word! What have you gotten yourself into?”
“I know!”
“This is crazy, David. You need to get your family out of here. Get as far away as you can. You don’t need to be a part of this.”
“I’m trapped at the station.”
“Trapped?”
“At least for the moment. One of the field reporters wants to meet with me. If I try to ditch and go home, they’ll start asking questions.”
“So lie.”
“You know I can’t lie.”
David could see Alex shaking his head in disbelief. “If this isn’t the time to lie, I don’t know what is. You need to put your little hang up aside and lie your butt out of there.”
“My dad was a liar. You know the devastation it...”
“David! We’re talking about terrorists! Hazardous materials! Assassination plots! I think th
is warrants a couple of well place lies, don’t you think? Besides, you wouldn’t be lying like your dad did, you’d be lying for a good reason, to protect your family and friends. You’re nothing like your dad!”
“I’ll find a way to get home.”
Alex let out an exasperated breath. “You’d better.”
“I will. You know I will. Just stay put.”
“We’ll stay for now, but if I sense any danger, we’re outta here. Got it?”
“Okay, Alex. Calm down. Just keep your phone on you.”
“Get here.” The line went dead.
He did not like leaving things on a bad note with Alex. They had been through a lot together, but this was by far the greatest test of their friendship yet. He knew, though, despite their differences of opinion, that Alex meant well. If the situation had not been so dire, Alex never would have asked him to compromise his principles.
Part of David wished he could have given in a little, but if he had, where would it stop? Once he crossed the line and decided to lie... No. He would not cross the line. Ever. I will never be like my father.
Chapter 15
It took a moment for Karen Watson to realize she was staring at the wall. She squeezed her long eyelashes together, and attempted to recompose. Her college foray into psychology reminded her that she was now in the fourth stage of grief, otherwise known as depression. When she first saw Brad on the screen, helpless, and in mortal danger, her mind responded with the first stage, shock and denial. But those had quickly been replaced by the second stage, anger. Anger––at Brad! He should have been more careful! He owes me that much. She was not one to give her heart to anyone—she was a career woman—but she had given her heart to Brad Knight. How could he do this to me?!
Karen stood by the water cooler holding back the tide of emotions that threatened to overwhelm her. She wanted to cry, she wanted to scream, but she did neither. She would not allow a hint of remorse to creep in and ruin the reputation she had worked years to establish. Reporters are objective. They watch from the outside. They do not let the emotion of what they report show outside their guarded walls.
But this is Brad! BRAD!
She snapped out of her introspection and pulled a cup from the dispenser. A bubble rumbled to the top of the blue plastic jug, and she brought the cup to her lips. The water was cold, but not wet enough to cure the dryness in her mouth.
Laughter came from the break room. She refilled her cup and took a step to the side. There were four in there, but most of the laughter was coming out of Larry Turner, the burly Texan who was always bragging about his huge gut. He was Brad’s first string cameraman, and for the hundredth time, Karen wondered why Brad had chosen him. He was obnoxious, opinionated, and generally vulgar. But Brad said Larry had a steady hand and a total lack of fear, which she had admitted at the time were indispensable qualities for a camera operator. However, the thought of spending four minutes in a news truck with Larry brought to mind visions of her stabbing him with a pencil. In a soft fleshy spot. Repeatedly.
A man sitting at one of the break tables took a verbal stab at the Texan. “There’s a fabulous new invention, Larry, it’s called the treadmill. You should look into it.”
Larry rolled his eyes. “Everyone’s always talkin’ like, ‘Hey look at these abs,’ or ’Check out this six pack’. All I got to say is, check out this ONE pack!” He rubbed his belly. “You don’t get ab like this from eatin’ salad!”
The room filled with laughter again as the man at the break table balled up a napkin and threw it at Larry.
Larry held his belly and bounced. “This here’s a chicken graveyard!”
Karen stepped into the room, hoping to stop him before he let out one of his signature hoots. “Feeling better I see.”
He turned and acknowledged her. “Hey there, Karen.”
“I thought you broke an ankle?”
“Rolled.” He corrected. “Rolled an ankle, darlin’. It’s amazin’ how these things get blowed out of proportion.” He pulled up his right pant leg to expose a brown brace just above his sneaker. “This little baby’s s’posed to keep it in place.”
“I assume you know about this morning.”
He dropped the pant leg and swaggered to a stand. “Yeah, I heard.”
She chose her words carefully, not wanting to come right out and ask him if he was relieved it was John that died this morning and not him. “How are you holding up?”
He shrugged. “You know me, sugar plumb. Even though I’m thicker ‘n a bucket o’ honey, ain’t much sticks to me.”
That was the truth. As long as she had known him, she had never seen anyone get the better of him. His confidence was immovable, and he was equipped with a boundless trove of pithy colloquialisms. But Karen was in even less of a mood for them than usual. “Are you going to the meeting?”
“The one Jim called?”
“Yes, he wants to talk with Brad’s team.”
“That’s why I’m here, sweetheart, and not on my La-Z-Boy watchin’ reruns of Baywatch.” He turned to the others and held up his palms. “Hey, what can I say? I love a good beach drama.”
The chuckles were subdued this time.
How could he joke at a time like this? Didn’t it bother him at all that Brad was being held by terrorists? Didn’t he care that one of his team was shot dead? He’s completely clueless! A clueless idiot meat-head! Karen thought as she crushed her cup and tossed it into the garbage. She fluttered her eyelashes at Larry. “I think I speak for everyone,” she stated pertly, “when I say we are fortunate that you are here.” The sarcasm fairly dripped off her words. “I don’t know what we would have done without such a crucial and intelligent member of the team.” She turned and walked out.
From the break room she caught his barely audible reply. “‘Bout time someone noticed. Hope the recognition comes with a raise.”
Chapter 16
David knocked just below the nameplate that read, Jim Coldfield: News Director. A muffled response came from within. He opened the door to see Jim sitting behind his mahogany desk studying his computer screen. He gave David a brief glance.
Karen turned and looked up from one of the guest chairs in front of the desk, exposing her nylon legs and the yellow note pad she frequently cradled in her lap. Her subdued countenance spoke volumes. It was common knowledge that she and Brad had become close, common that is, to everyone but Karen. She refused to believe that anyone knew.
Behind her, leaning against a glass cabinet filled with various awards, stood Nerd, looking, if it were possible, an even lighter shade of pale. And to the left, so far behind the door that David almost missed him, was Larry Turner, holding a to-go bag. Larry squished a powdered doughnut under his powdered mustache, and offered a powdered wave. In all of Boston, there was no one quite like Larry.
Jim swiveled and looked up. “Have a seat, David.”
David squeezed in between the chairs in front of the desk, and sat down.
“I’ll make this brief. Karen is following up on Brad’s notes, and she may need to call on the rest of you to fill in the blanks. –I know what you’re thinking, Brad keeps his lips pretty tight, but if there is anything, make sure you pass it along to Karen. And Karen, treat this as a news piece. I know it’s personal, but you’re not a detective. Keep your distance from the action.”
Karen gave an, I don’t know what you’re talking about, expression.
“Everyone knows you and Brad are seeing each other. You can drop the façade.”
She straightened in her chair. “I’m a professional, Jim.”
“I know. Just stay objective, okay?” She signaled compliance, and Jim turned his examining gaze to David. “I want you to take a look at something.” He motioned toward the flat screen. David got up and moved around the desk. “Do you recognize this document?” asked Jim.
David moved in over Jim’s shoulder, examined the screen closely, and said, “It’s a bill for liquid fertilizer purchased by a milk farm u
pstate.”
“Did Brad show you this?”
“Yes. He asked for three copies. Why?”
“Do you know what terrorists prefer to make bombs out of?”
“I thought dynamite.”
Jim’s countenance caused David’s blood to chill.
“Do you remember the Oklahoma bombing?”
“Sure. Everyone knows...”
“The bomb consisted of several tanks filled with liquid fertilizer and diesel fuel.”
Karen shifted toward the table. “You’re saying Brad knew about the bomb?”
“Bombs, plural,” said Jim. “Remember the FBI said they’re tracking two cases of nuclear material. That means they’re probably making several bombs. And this document links a milk farm with ties to the mosque money trail and the purchase of large quantities of fertilizer, by one Afif Al-Qadir.”
David couldn’t help but notice the tension forming on Nerd’s face. He looked like he was about to explode. He knew what David knew, and it was obvious he thought David should speak up.
He returned Nerd’s intense expression and shook his head subtly. He couldn’t tell anyone about the cases. Not yet. Not while his family was in danger. Nerd’s eyes flared slightly, but David pressed his lips, and shook his head again. Nerd’s eyes darted to Larry, then back to David.
Karen could hardly contain herself. “Do you want me to go to the farm and ask questions?”
“No. I want you to leave the investigation to the authorities.”
“But...”
“I know. You want to find out who’s holding Brad, but that’s not your job. Find all the angles on the story, figure out how it all connects together, so when it breaks we’re on top of it. Can I count on you?”
She looked disappointed, but nodded her assent.
“You let the FBI confront the terrorists, they’ll do everything they can to find Brad. I’m only telling you about the fertilizer because we might have an incident out at the farm tonight and I want you prepared to cover it. Follow up on the leads in Brad’s computer and find out how the offshore accounts and the Saudi underground fit into the puzzle.”
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