Maybe it didn’t.
Maybe the two events were unrelated.
When he asked about the assassin, the message said he was near, and the other message said, two days. That’s all he knew. It didn’t matter. Whatever reason the terrorists had for creating the bomb threat was irrelevant. The bomb was sitting, ready to go off. And David was supposed to stop it.
Chapter 47
Sharon watched Alex prepare sandwiches for the kids on the hardwood cutting table next to his chrome plated oven in the ambiance of inset cabinet lighting. He had done well for himself over the years and had acquired many luxuries. But at what cost? Would he ever settle down, as he had been claiming for the past fifteen years, or would he miss having a family altogether, choosing instead to keep chasing the ever elusive carrot?
Alex wiped his hands on a towel and pulled two plastic cups from the cabinet. One was Barbie, the other, Transformers. He was always getting things for Emily and Ben. The Teletubbies sippy cup he’d bought for Emily when she was two was still sitting in the cabinet. Sharon’s heart warmed. He would make a great father.
“Are you going to let me give them soda?” he said over his shoulder as he opened the brushed metal refrigerator.
“After the day they’ve had, let ‘em have anything they want.”
“And you’re sure you don’t want anything?”
“I’m sure.”
He put the lunches on a tray and picked it up. A yellow light began flashing on the security panel by the door.
“Wow. Is that Jerry already? That was fast.” He looked down at the tray. “You want me to pack these up instead?”
She sighed. “Could you? Would that be a lot of trouble?”
“No. No trouble at all. I’ll pack. You get the intercom.”
“Okay.” She went over and pressed the button on the glass panel. “Who is it?”
“It’s me.”
“Hi, Jer.” She pushed the lock button. “Here you go.” The buzz from the gate filtered in through the intercom. She let her hand drop and placed her weary head gently against the wall. Please let this be the last move. She straightened and took a deep breath. The kids. She dreaded the thought of pulling them from their source of artificial comfort. But it had to be done. They would all be safer at the high security installation. And David would be safer with Alex at his side.
She walked into the living room and sat next to her daughter. “Em, we’re leaving in a few minutes. The TV will have to go off.” Emily needed a little warning time to help her shift gears. Ben, on the other hand, was much more resilient. He didn’t need warning for anything.
Emily turned her pretty blue eyes toward her mother. “Do we have to?”
Sharon rubbed her back gently. “Yes. I’m afraid so.”
Emily frowned.
Alex came and stood in the doorway. “Hey. I have an idea. You want to take my portable DVD player?”
Both kids looked up and nodded stoically, then returned their somber attention to the television.
He looked at Sharon and shrugged.
“Thanks, Alex. That will help.”
Sharon stared blankly at the TV, until a knock sounded on the door. “Alex, can you get the security alarm?”
“Sure thing,” Alex called from the kitchen.
She walked to the front door and put her hand on the knob. “Kids, Uncle Jerry is...” The door smashed her in the face and she was on the floor. A black shrouded figure loomed over her with a pistol.
“Don’t forget the...” Alex came to an abrupt stop in the doorway. Two lunch bags dangled from his grip.
“Stop!” The man pointed the gun at Alex. His accent was unmistakably Middle Eastern, his dark eyes pierced like daggers. “Do not move or you will die!”
Emily screeched, and Sharon started to scoot toward the living room.
The man spun around. “Stop!”
Desperate hands shot up in front of her face. “I’m sorry! Please! We’re not a threat...”
He pushed the gun at her. “Shut up!”
Alex shifted his weight
“What are you doing!” the man screamed.
“Just stay calm.” Alex’s voice was cool and level.
“You think I’m stupid?!”
Alex dropped the lunch bags on a nearby shelf and raised his hands. “No one needs to get...”
Two shots exploded, and Alex collapsed into the kitchen.
Sharon screamed. Where was Jerry?! She tried to see out the doorway. Did they kill him too?! She scooted backwards into the living room and crawled to the kids.
The smoking pistol swung toward the three of them cowering on the couch. The kids’ faces were streaming with tears. He walked slowly towards them. “Your life, is in the hands of your husband. If he is wise,” he enunciated the words, “you will live. If he is not, you will die.”
Sharon’s body quaked.
The man crouched before her, so close she could smell the burning powder from the gun barrel. Above the shroud, his piercing stare forced her back against the children. “Your husband has been most difficult. He thinks he is saving the city from a bomb, but he only puts the city in danger. You must explain this to him. Tell him we do not wish to detonate the bomb, we want the city evacuated. If he will simply walk away, his family, and he, will be safe.”
Sharon stared wide eyed, unable to move.
“I assure you, I am more than capable of releasing the full power of that bomb. Do you understand?”
She could barely breathe, but managed a small nod.
“Good.” His eyes became narrow. “Call him.” He gestured to the wireless phone on the end table.
The keypad was unreadable through her tears. She dug the back of her hand into the sockets to clear her vision and began typing in David’s number.
“Put it on speaker,” he said evenly.
She lifted a shaking finger and pressed the button. Ringing filled the room, steady and even. Behind her, the children cried quietly. With each ring her dread increased. Why doesn’t he answer?! A recorded voice came on. She looked at the shrouded man with wide tear-soaked eyes. “Do you, w- want me to leave a message?” Her voice wavered.
“NO! I want you to speak with your husband!”
She recoiled with a shudder, her eyes knitted shut in anticipation of violence.
“Call him AGAIN!” he shouted over the sound of David’s voicemail greeting.
She stabbed the phone button, and hit redial.
The terrorist stood and paced.
Again David’s voicemail picked up. Sharon looked at the shrouded figure, her shoulders hunched and cowering. He stopped pacing and slowly turned towards David’s recorded voice. A raging scream exploded from behind his veil.
The children echoed his scream.
“WHAT NOW?” He began looking around wildly, then suddenly stopped and brought his hand to his mouth. The pistol dangled in his grasp, his eyes were locked onto the floor. His breath came hard and fast through his nose.
Fear gripped Sharon’s belly as a haunting thought entered her mind. He was going to kill them; there was desperation in his eyes. She was supposed to convince David to stop––but she couldn’t reach him. She dropped the phone and wrapped desperate arms around her children. She squeezed her eyes shut. Oh, God, no. Please, God. Please don’t let this happen!
Not now, God.
Not now.
Not ever.
PLEASE!...
Silence.
Slowly Sharon opened her eyes––to a gun pointing in her face.
“Call again.”
Chapter 48
The phone went off in the passenger seat of David’s Plymouth Neon––but he didn’t hear it. He was standing on the moist brown mulch of the parking lot island in front of his car, staring at the distant sign for JC Penny. The parking lot of the double decker mall was full to the brim with holiday shoppers taking advantage of pre-Christmas sales.
The newest message had said double mall. So here he
was.
The smell of damp tar filled David’s nostrils. He closed his eyes and tilted his head back. A light drizzle speckled his face. He drew in a deep breath and let the cold gentle taps absorb into his skin. For a brief moment a sense of peace washed over him, but it retreated as quickly as it had come. His eyes snapped open, he looked around. People were everywhere, on the sidewalks, in the parking lot, passing in and out of the mall’s entrance, blissfully unaware that this could be their last shopping trip––their last anything. A massive explosion flashed violently in David’s mind, so vivid it made him flinch. He stepped off the island and headed toward JC Penny with a new resolution forming in his chest.
Through the vestibule, down the sand colored walkway, and into the men’s section he strode. Around holiday shoppers, between the clothes racks, then back out onto the tiled walkway. The people crawled along with their swinging bags and wide searching eyes. Tis the season for guilt driven sensory overload, David thought. The bargain shoppers were out in force.
He emerged from JC Penny into the long center corridor of the mall and moved briskly to the railing overlooking the floor below. What next? Was there another message? He surveyed the words around him with familiar automation. A sign in the window of an glass case read, “Advertise Here Now.” A credit card ad read, “Gotta have it.” A poster for running shoes said, “Run hard, Soft ride.” And finally, in large golden letters, part of the word, Directory added itself to the message in his mind. Here now. Gotta run hard. Dire! His head snapped left and right. Run WHERE? There were no more words. He looked at the escalators to either side of him and picked one.
Three steps at a time he squeezed past startled and angry people––in that order. He jumped off at the bottom. He was at the far end of the mall, so logically there was only one way to run. To the other end! He took off in a sprint and ran as hard as he could. Run hard! Dire! He paid no attention to the man who cursed at him. He didn’t stop to help the lady whose bag went sliding across the floor. He cut and weaved in desperation, working his way into the heart of the mall. In the center court, another corridor crossed over the main one. David stayed on the main. His lungs and legs began to burn, but he pushed on, dodging and cutting, accelerating and decelerating, pushing himself beyond his endurance.
Eyes scanning. Words in a blur. To see them he’d have to slow down, but he wasn’t going to second guess. The message said run! When he needed another message, it would come. He was sure of it. Out of the corner of his eye he saw a uniform and came to a stop. The letters across the man’s back spoke loud and clear. SECURITY.
Am I supposed to follow him? He panted over and peered down the hall where the man had just entered. The man strolled to the end. David stayed at the corner, bathed in sweat, lungs on the verge of bursting. The guard stopped at a door and shuffled his keys, slid a key in the lock, turned the knob, and entered. David smeared the sweat around on his face and headed down the hallway. As he approached the door, he heard a click. Had it taken that long to close? On the heavily rippled glass window was the word Maintenance and a sign reading, “Authorized Personnel Only.” David tried the knob. Of course it’s locked, bonehead.
Now what? He looked around. The men’s room was across the hall, maybe he could wait in there until the guard came out, then catch the door before it closed? He looked back up the hallway and shrugged to himself. It’s as good a plan as any. He pushed the bathroom door open and stepped in. Two of the six stalls were occupied, but it was quiet. If it stayed quiet, he would hear the maintenance room door open. He pressed his hot sweaty head against the door jam and listened through the crack. Sweat trickled into his eyes.
Doubts trickled into his mind.
Anything could go wrong. Someone could come out of the stall and talk to him. Kids could come in and be loud. Someone could flush… Maybe this was a bad idea. There were footsteps, distant at first, but getting closer. Shoes. Definitely not women’s shoes. A man coming to the bathroom? David stepped back and pulled a paper towel from the dispenser. The door swung in, and a tall teenager walked past him. David glanced out the door. The maintenance room door was slowly closing!
He lunged through the door and across the hall as quietly as possible so as not to draw the attention of the security guard, who was walking back up the hallway. David caught the door. The guard’s keys jingled as he fastened them to his hip. David quietly slipped into the room. That was close!
He put his hands against the wall and slumped to catch his breath. The beating of his heart throbbed in his boiling head as he pushed off the wall and turned around. His breath caught in his throat.
In the dead center of what was half storage and half garage, was a U-Haul truck. It looked like the truck he had seen leaving Ace Wrecking. Was this the bomb? He gripped the yellow pipe railing and climbed down the cement stairs. A two foot gap separated the truck from a wall of cardboard boxes. He squeezed through to the back, grabbed the door handle, and pulled up. The truck was filled with white barrels connected by plastic hoses. On the floor, right in front of David’s face, was the detonator box with two digital readouts, a rubber number pad, three colored buttons, and three thick colored wires in half hoops running from top to bottom. The buttons were red, yellow, and blue; the wires, green, yellow, and red.
One of the digital readouts counted down. 123, 122, 121… If those are seconds, I have two minutes! His mind raced. Okay. He swallowed hard and closed his eyes. It’s okay, David. Don’t panic. Remember... He closed his eyes and the words came back to him. Follow Security 6622 meters. He’d followed the security guard. That was done. But it wasn’t 6,622 meters, so the 6622 had to be something else. The number code?
The numbers continued to decrease. 109, 108, 107, 106… He wiped his drenched forehead and began typing the numbers on the pad. 6- 6... They appeared in the smaller digital readout, one at a time. With each glowing red number, his heart quickened. Could there be another application for the numbers? No. This had to be it. He had to trust his instinct. The message had been given to him specifically. It was designed to tell him what to do. Logically, it had to know what he would choose. There was no time to second guess. It had to be right.
He pushed 2 twice then quickly stabbed the enter button. The countdown started moving faster! The readout with the 6622 also started counting down rapidly. Did I do something wrong? He frantically examined the device. 6622 meters 0 out red yellow blue. The colors matched the buttons. Was he supposed to push the buttons? He brought his finger up to the red button and started to push––but his mind screamed, NO! –Meters 0 out! His hand snapped back. The meters had to zero out first! The seconds counter and the smaller readout hit zero at the same time. David squeezed his eyes shut.
No explosion—he opened one eye.
Bleep. Bleep. Bleep. The seconds counter reset to ten and began counting down again. David’s heart skipped a beat. The colors! What were the colors? They echoed in his mind. Red, yellow, blue. He stabbed the three buttons in that order, and the counter stopped on the number six, glowing eerily, red on black. David’s eyes stayed locked onto it. Was it over? Would they start counting down again? He stared.
The number six stared back.
No more bleeps. No more numbers. Nothing.
He backed away from the truck and crouched down. His muscles felt like sandbags as sweat dripped from his forehead onto the cement floor. He was thankful for the effect the endorphins were producing; a numbing buzz enveloped him. For a moment.
The bomb had been deactivated, but he still had to call the authorities. He patted his pocket. His phone was in the car! It was probably better if he didn’t use his own phone anyway. He was already in enough hot water with his connection to Jerry. How would he ever explain this? He started to put his head in his hands, but then stopped. Karen! I’ll let her tell them where it is. She wanted in on it anyway! He stood on wobbly legs, slid the door of the truck down, and made his way back out to the main corridor. A single pay phone sat against the far wall.
Briskly, he made his way to the phone and grabbed the receiver, but, as soon as he dug in his pocket for change, he realized he didn’t have Karen’s number. It was in his cellphone––in his car! He slammed the phone back on the hook.
It was a long walk to the other end of the mall, and the endorphins were no longer pulling their share.
His muscles cried out with every step as his walk degraded to a limp.
Ding. “Attention mall shoppers and employees. Due to an increased threat level, the mall is being evacuated. There is no cause for alarm. The threat is under control. Please walk to the nearest exit. I repeat, the threat is under control. There is no cause for alarm. Please walk to the nearest exit.”
How did they know? Did they find the bomb in the truck? Did Karen figure it out by using the information in the box? It didn’t matter. David followed the current of people exiting the mall, and returned to his car where his cellphone sat on the passenger seat. He picked it up and noticed a message had been left. He called it up and listened.
“David.” It was Sharon, and she sounded terrified. “The terrorists have us.” Her breath came quickly. “They shot Alex. He’s... David. Alex is…” David heard a man’s voice in the background conveying something unintelligible. “He’s dead, David. And they’re going to kill us too if you stop the bomb.” The man continued to speak. “Please, David. Call me back. He says they won’t detonate the bomb if you leave it alone. They don’t want to hurt anyone else, but they will if they...”
The man spoke into the phone. “Pray you receive this before you stop the bomb.”
Chapter 49
Authorities from every agency in the government descended upon the double-decker mall, and positions were set up at all exits to direct the traffic fleeing the enormous parking lot. The surrounding roads were barricaded. Overhead, police choppers circled the perimeter, warning stragglers to evacuate the area. News teams from every major network, as well as reporters from newspapers and national news agencies, were perched on a highway overlooking the mall. Two network helicopters flew a wide pattern around the perimeter.
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