“Can I read it? I’ll bring it back.”
“I don’t care. Take it. Just leave me alone.”
He grabbed the book. “Thanks.”
“And, Nerd?”
“Yeah?” He stopped.
“If you do happen to see something you think I missed, send me an email, okay?”
His whole face lit up, then he all but saluted before rushing off.
Poor Nerd. Karen shook her head. He probably thinks there really IS some secret message there and that I’ve given him his BIG chance to be a hero by finding it.
In reality, she just wanted to be left alone. An email would be the easiest thing to ignore.
Karen slid the Fed-Ex package aside and got back to following up on her correspondence. She didn’t have the luxury of living in a fantasy world like Nerd. There was far too much work to be done.
Chapter 31
David waited in the study while the police finished questioning Alex. They had interrogated everyone, even Emily. David had never seen anything like it. Every law enforcement agency in the city had descended on the retired Harvard professor’s home with every piece of counter terrorism gear available. Each and every corner of the home was being scanned thoroughly. Marked and unmarked cruisers blocked both ends of the street.
Sharon was upstairs with the kids, giving them a break from all the excitement. Claire and Stan were roaming the house, hoping to prevent any accidental damage caused by overzealous investigators. Alone in the study, David went over the events of the day. He was right about the terrorists, they were purposely trying to scare him––but he couldn’t imagine why. There was nothing unique or special about him. It wasn’t like he had access to anything a terrorist would consider of value. And other than his new found ability, which they had no way of knowing about, he was just an ordinary guy.
When David told the police about the strange behavior of the terrorists, they had concurred, there was something suspicious about the way they were acting. They had been far too merciful with David and his family. One officer had eluded to a greater significance, beyond the treatment of David’s family, but what he said didn’t make sense. These were clearly not pacifists. Pacifists don’t shoot reporters. They killed John and wounded Karen. Clearly these men were dangerous. Furthermore, the officer pointed out that it wasn’t so much that the detonator was missing, but that it looked as though it was constructed with no intention of ever having a detonator. David couldn’t imagine why they would go through all the trouble of creating a bomb if they never intended to use it!
He reached out and pulled a book from the old oak bookcase next to his chair. Gulliver’s Travels. He smiled. He had read the book as a young boy, he remembered losing himself in its pages. How strange he should find himself living a story nearly as fantastic. But Gulliver was fortunate enough to have had only himself to worry about. He cracked the book open, closed his eyes, and formed a question in his mind. Who are you? His eyes flickered open and landed on the words, I am. Okay, that didn’t get me anywhere. You are WHAT? He turned the page and rested his eyes on the word that. His fingers grasped the corner of the page, but before he could turn it, his eyes bounced to another word. Still. I am that still? He turned the page and continued his journey, picking up words until he was sure the message had ended. What he found was confusing. I am that still small voice. Fear not the distant horn sounds signal run left bullet stairs she waits.
O-kay
It was a message, David was sure of it. But what he was supposed to gather from it, he had no idea. Fear not the distant horn sounds? What could be frightening about a distant horn? He grabbed a pen from a nearby table and looked around for something to write on. Finding nothing, he carefully wrote the message on the back of his arm, then pulled his sleeve down over it. Gently he slid the volume back into its slot then picked up a newspaper lying on the end table. Before he could think, his eyes began to bounce again. A new message formed. Tell what son do what it says.
David rubbed his face. What on earth did that mean? Was it talking about his son? Tell him to do what what says? David’s phone went off, and he jumped. It was Music Music Music, not a buzz, which meant it was a phone call, not a text message. He relaxed, a little, pulled the phone out, and looked at the name on the caller ID. Karen Watson. His mind whispered, what son. He stared at the name. Tell Watson, do what it says.
Am I supposed to say that? –Hey, Karen. –Do what it says. And what would he say prompted him to tell her such a bizarre and inexplicable directive? The phone rang again. Beep. “–Hello?”
“Hi, David. This is Karen over at the station.”
“I know. How are you doing? I heard about last night, found some excitement, huh?”
“I guess you could call it that. Hey, listen. I was going to wait until I saw you, but I keep looking at this note on my desk, and I have to say, it’s bugging me. So if you’re playing a joke, you got me.”
David was quiet a moment. “Ah, I don’t know what you’re talking about.
“It’s a Post-it, with a page number on it. Did you leave it?”
Was that her desk he’d left the Post-it on? It seemed so long ago. Oh great, now I have to try to explain two things. He sat, unable to find the right words.
“David?”
“–Uh. Yeah, I left the note.” If only his phone would go dead. He looked at the five bars in the upper corner of the display. A perfect signal. Great! Thank you AT&T!
“Were you referring to the book in the Fed-Ex package? Cause I went to the page and I read it. But I have no idea what you’re trying to show me.”
“All I can tell you is, you’re suppose to do what it says.”
“It doesn’t say to do anything. It’s a novel.”
“It must say to do something. What does it say?”
“What do you mean, what does it say? You’re the one who put it on my desk. You don’t know what it says?”
“No.”
“Then why did you put it on my desk?”
“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you. All I can say is, whatever it says, do it.”
“You’re as bad as Nerd. Fine. Whatever game you’re playing, leave me out of it, okay? I can’t afford the distraction.”
“It’s not a game, Karen.”
“If you’ve got something to say to me, David, say it. Don’t leave cryptic Post-it messages and Fed-Ex packages on my desk. Okay?”
David understood her frustration more than she could possibly imagine. He was living it. But unlike her, he now understood the importance of heeding the messages. “Karen. I know it doesn’t make sense right now, but sometime in the near future, you’re going to have a moment of clarity, and when you do, remember that I told you to do what the book says.”
“Are you for real?”
He didn’t know what to say.
“Okay. I’m hanging up now. When you’re done playing your little game, you have my number.”
The phone went dead.
He didn’t blame her for hanging up on him. He could only imagine what she was thinking right now. Some intern she hardly knew was telling her to act out the pages of a novel. At least he had managed to avoid telling her what prompted him to leave the note in the first place. Even still, she obviously thought he was a nut job––and he wasn’t so sure she was wrong.
Chapter 32
Okay. She was going to put that completely out of her mind. Why did she think for a second David Chance would give her a straight answer after the mysterious way Nerd was acting?
Jim poked his head into the newsroom. “Look alive, folks, we have our second terrorist tape. Meeting in the conference room in two minutes.”
It must be the first set of demands––and still no leads on Brad. Karen’s belly twisted. She was not ready for this. There was only so much a person could process, and she was nervously approaching her limit. She slid her desk drawer open, took three painkillers out of a white bottle, and swallowed them dry. Get it together, Karen. You’re
a professional.
People were filtering down the hall and into the darkened conference room. Karen grabbed a yellow pad from her desk and followed. The same players from the previous meeting were around the table. Karen’s chair was waiting. She set her yellow pad down and took a seat next to Cindy Coulter.
Cindy gave a cordial smile. “Hi, Karen. How you feeling?”
“I’d rather take a bullet in my other arm than watch this tape.”
“I’m sure Brad’s fine.”
Karen didn’t respond.
The general manager quieted the room and aimed the remote at the television. A picture of the Arab flickered onto the screen. He was wearing the same headdress and outfit as before, but this time, Brad was not in the room.
“You have been busy, have you not?” he said in his deep baritone. “Do you feel safe now that you have found our bomb?” He got up close to the camera. “Are you curious? Does it not make you wonder? You say to yourself, I am safe. My country will protect me. They have found the bomb and captured the terrorists. But then there are questions. Questions you cannot answer, and the fear continues to eat at your belly. Why was there no detonator? Why do they make a bomb that will not explode? I will share with you the secret, but you will not like it.”
He pulled back and held a red ball before the camera. His other hand came down in front of the ball. With a simple gesture, the ball vanished. “When one hand moves, the other is invisible. You ask, where is the ball? I ask you, where is the bomb? How predictable you are, Kafir. You had your eyes on the wrong hand. While you were capturing a harmless bomb, we planted the real one, in the heart, of your city.”
Several people started talking, the general manager held his hand up. “Quiet!”
“You ask yourself, am I safe? Can my country protect me from the judgment of Allah? Can what happens in this city happen in others? Allow me to answer this question for you.” He came in close again. “Allah is merciful. You have until 7:00 p.m. to leave the city. All who remain will be judged.” He stood and gripped the camera. With a stutter, it twisted, and Brad came into view. Karen’s heart sank. He looked sallow. His feet were taped to the chair as before, his hands were bound behind his back. “To the managers of Channel Seven. You have until 11:00 a.m. to air this warning. If you do not, the next tape you receive will contain the execution of your journalist. Do not test our resolve.” He reached out and the camera went dead.
The lights came up. The general manager addressed the stunned room. “Well––it doesn’t get any clearer than that. We have an evacuation on our hands. As of right now, all station staff are free to go.” He looked at his secretary. “Dawn, announce it over the intercom.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Alright. If you’re not seated at this table, clear the room. We have some logistics to go over. Are there any questions?”
The room was quiet.
“No? Okay. Thank you. Stay safe.”
The room slowly cleared. Agent Cooper leaned over and spoke quietly with the general manager. Karen couldn’t hear what they were saying, but judging by the GMs face, it wasn’t good. Karen fidgeted with her yellow pad.
“I’m going to give the floor to Agent Cooper,” said the general manager, straightening up.
“Let me be up front with you. I wish you hadn’t seen this tape because it makes what I am about to say that much more difficult. It was my recommendation to division that the tape be seized as evidence, but they did not agree. In the spirit of the patriot act, they felt that full disclosure would unify our efforts with yours. I hope they were right––because now I have the displeasure of telling you that this tape cannot be aired.”
The room exploded with questions.
“Please. Please!” said Cooper. “I’ll answer your questions after I’ve explained our position.” He looked around. “I understand your friendship and obligation to Mr. Knight, but there is a greater responsibility, and that is to the citizens of Boston. The kind of uncontrolled evacuation that would result from the broadcasting of this message would cause an untold number of deaths. We cannot allow that to happen. Not with...”
Cindy spoke up, “There’s a bomb in the city! How many deaths will that cause?”
“Allow me to finish, Mrs. Coulter. I assure you, this bomb will not go off. We are close to wrapping up this investigation. It is our analysis that a mass evacuation will give the terrorists exactly what they want. Chaos. Under those conditions, our resources will be stretched too thin. Our leads are strong, we have people on the ground...”
“What about Brad?” Karen fought to keep her voice even.
“We have the situation under control.”
“You know where he is?”
“Once we have secured the bomb we will extract Mr. Knight.”
“You do know where he is!”
“That information is classified.”
She looked at the general manager. “Unbelievable! You have his location, and you’re going to let him sit there?”
“What we know or do not know about the location of Mr. Knight, is irrelevant. Finding this bomb is our primary mission.”
Karen fought back her emotion. “Irrelevant? So he’s nothing but a pawn? Collateral damage? How easy it is for you to sacrifice the life of someone you hardly know...”
“That’s enough, Karen,” Jim interrupted.
She threw her pen down.
“We cannot concern ourselves with the life of one man,” said Cooper. “We have an entire city to protect, we believe the best way to do that is to keep this tape from airing, and follow up on our active leads. If any of you interfere with this investigation, I assure you, you will be prosecuted to the fullest extent of the law.” He stood, and the other agents joined him. The man on the end took the mini DV tape from the tape player and placed it in a plastic bag, then the team filed out of the room.
There was no protest from the assembled news team, only silent acceptance. The agent had made it clear. They had leads and they were doing everything in their power to follow up on those leads. There were tough choices to be made, and if it came right down to it, Brad would have to be sacrificed for the greater good. There was no reason to debate the topic. The agent was clearly running by a playbook. It was not up for discussion.
Karen had her own decision to make. Was she going to leave Brad’s life in the hands of law enforcement who saw him as a strategic decision, or risk imprisonment for interfering with an official investigation? –Of course she was going to interfere. It was in her very nature to interfere. She wasn’t going to let the life of someone she cared for be determined by an unconcerned third party.
The conference room door closed, and everyone started talking at once. Everyone, that is, except Karen. She had made up her mind. Whining about how unfair it was for the FBI to take the tape, or debating what the station’s official on-air response should be, was of no interest to her. The politics and emergency procedures were meaningless. Time was running out, she needed to move. “May I be excused?” She spoke loudly above the other voices. The general manager gave her an annoyed nod and turned his attention back to Cindy, who was protesting the most.
Karen slipped out of the room and stood in the hallway, her mind in a tailspin, her emotions circling close behind. She had lost her friend John, had come face to face with a bomb, had taken a bullet in a major artery––and the love of her life was being held by terrorists.
She took in a deep breath.
Down the hall three agents talked quietly. Up the hall two station employees stood waiting for the elevator. Karen corrected her posture, walked across the hall to the supply closet, stepped in, and closed the door behind her. Time was short, there was no time for self pity. Brad needed her to be strong. The thought of giving in to her fear and frustration caused a fury to boil. She clenched her fists. Do NOT give in to your emotion! There had been a time when all that mattered to her was her career, but that was before Brad stole her heart. No, not stolen, earned. She had m
ade it exceedingly difficult for him, but he had waited patiently for all of her walls to come down. He understood her. He was like her. He shared her love for adventure and her aspirations to one day anchor on a major network. He shared her passion and obligation to report the news, to be a part of history as it unfolds. She was a woman of intense principle and conscience, and no man had ever measured up––until Brad. His integrity, his kindness, his smile, his smell. How could she ever fill the hole his absence would rip in her heart?
She forced the emotion back with all her will, but tears began to stream down her defiant cheeks anyway. She hadn’t realized how much she loved him, how much she needed him, how empty her life would be without him. Her knees weakened and she sank to the floor, sobbing uncontrollably.
Chapter 33
Alex entered the study. He looked annoyed.
“You alright?”
“Yeah. I just get bugged by the way police do things. Everything has to be official and by the book. I had to spend thirty minutes explaining what I could have shown them in one, if they had just let me near the bomb, but that would break protocol, and we can’t have that.”
“Watch yourself. You might get yourself thrown in the clink.”
“Clink? What are you, from some sixties detective series? Who says clink?”
“I do.”
“–Maybe they’ll throw me in the sah-lammah.”
They both laughed.
“So what are you going to do now?” Alex sank into a chair.
“Good question. I might go through some more of these books to see if I can get any information.”
“Still following the messages?”
“I have to, but I gotta tell you, this bomb thing has me on edge. What if the terrorists decide that my family is worth more to them dead? They’ve proven they can find them. The only time I’ve felt they were safe was when I left them with you...” He looked at his friend, and his eyes lit up. “Hey! You could take them! Take them somewhere even I don’t know about. You, Sharon, and the kids. Can you do that?”
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