Agent Out

by Francine Pascal

  SEARCH QUERY RESULTS “SOCORRO” CROSS-REFERENCE WITH “James Rossiter aka Jimmy Rossiter”

  MOST FREQUENT SUBCATEGORIES

  James Rossiter 03/02/02 SOCORRO Plastique Bombing Incident: 12 entries

  James Rossiter 12/04/01 SOCORRO Dynamite in Auto Plant Incident: 6 entries

  James Rossiter 05/10/04 SOCORRO Incendiary Gas Bomb in Office Tower: 4 entries

  Will felt a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach as he read.

  Bombs, he thought. Rossiter’s a bomber, a terrorist bomber, Tomorrow he’ll be in Philadelphia setting a bomb.

  And Gaia’s on her way to the spot it’s going to explode.

  In that moment Will was so completely consumed with the idea that he had to get Gaia out of danger that he didn’t realize he wasn’t alone in the room—until one second later, when a hand dropped onto his shoulder.

  “Shhh,” a voice whispered in his ear. “It’s Kim.”

  some kind of big terrorist incident

  THE PANlC BUTTON

  “What the hell are you doing here?” Will whispered, genuinely baffled. He had jumped a foot in the air when Kim put his hand on Will’s shoulder.

  “This is for Gaia, isn’t it?” Kim asked, glaring at Will. “You’re stealing information for her.”

  “How the hell did—” Will started over. “How did you know where I was?”

  “I followed you, obviously.”

  “But how did you get into the building? You haven’t got—”

  Kim wordlessly held up his own active duty pass. “I’ve got one of these now—remember? I waited outside the building, looking at the windows, and I never saw you arrive up on the fourth floor. You know you can see the window, right, and the ceiling lights coming on? Anyway, I looked around the lobby and I found your pencil.”

  “Very clever.” Will sighed in defeat. “So you came here to stop me?”

  “I think I came here to help you,” Kim said earnestly. “But I really think it’s time for you to tell me what you’re doing, partner. For the past two days you’ve been—”

  “Wait a minute,” Will said, pointing at the computer screen. “What’s that mean?”

  A new alert message had appeared:

  LOG-IN ACCESS ERROR ACCOUNT IN USE ACCESS DENIED

  “That’s weird,” Kim said.

  “Listen,” Will began urgently. “Here’s the story. Catherine was kidnapped by a terrorist group called Socorro. They’re using her to help them with some kind of big terrorist incident that FBI intelligence indicates is going to happen tomorrow.”

  “What do you—what kind of ‘incident’?”

  “In Philadelphia. In the center of town. Gaia’s on her way there to stop them and save Catherine. She doesn’t know what they’re going to do.”

  “But you do?”

  “Yeah.” Will was drenched in sweat and losing patience. Kim wondered how sharp his faculties were at the moment. He seemed to be in control of his thoughts, but it was possible his reflexes were slowed from stress. “There’s a bomb!’

  “Oh, no—”

  “There’s a bomb, and there’s no way to stop it.”

  Kim thought about it. It didn’t take him very long.

  “You need my help,” Kim went on. “You need me to cover for you. You need me to take care of the lollipop case while you’re gone.”

  On the screen the same message appeared again:

  LOG-IN ACCESS ERROR ACCOUNT IN USE ACCESS DENIED

  “Gone—?”

  “You have to go to Philadelphia,” Kim continued patiently. “Right now.”

  Another line appeared on the screen:

  PASSWORD DENIED—POSSIBLE SECURITY COMPROMISE

  Kim saw Will’s eyes widen in sudden, frightened comprehension as he stared at the screen.

  “It’s Lyle,” Will said, grabbing Kim’s arm. “Damn it—I stole Lyle’s access card and password, but now Lyle—the real Lyle—must be trying to log onto the system.”

  “That’s bad,” said Kim. “You realize what that means? We’ve got about two minutes before he hits the panic button, calls security, and reports a security alert.”

  “And they’ll even be able to localize it,” Will confirmed, looking at the door.

  Kim held out his hand. “Give me the access card.”

  “What?”

  “God, you’re dumb,” Kim said impatiently. “Weren’t you listening to what I just said? You’ve got to get moving.” Kim wiggled his hand. “Give me the card and go. If you hurry, I’ll bet you can make it out of the basement before they get here. But you’ve got to move now.”

  Will returned Kim’s gaze, and then after a moment he nodded, handed over the card, and turned to hurry toward the door. Kim stayed where he was, listening to the sound of Will’s footsteps as he made his way back along the wall toward the stairwell, and then, as Kim heard the distant stairwell door click shut, he sat down at the computers, took a deep breath, and waited for the sirens to ring out and the stampede of armed guards to arrive.

  LOST TIME

  More time lost, driving.

  Gaia was hopelessly caught in traffic.

  “Goddamn it!” she hollered uselessly. It must have been the twentieth time she’d blurted out those words. She still couldn’t believe it. How could she have let herself fall asleep? How could she give in to the exhaustion now? She was furious with herself. And now she was losing time—pounding on her horn and jutting the car forward in futile spurts.

  She’d done everything in her power to make up for lost time, but it was getting on the appallingly late hour of nine o’clock by the time she finally, finally saw the towers of downtown Philadelphia against the horizon ahead of her, protruding over the road like some kind of Emerald City.

  The traffic was only growing worse as she drove. She had two maps spread out on the seat next to her. One was a folded gas station map of the city, showing the approaches that were available. Gaia had already taken a red pen and drawn in the quick route that she’d figured out before, the route that would get her to Decatur and Main, where the spot on Catherine’s map was marked.

  And the other map was the one Catherine had printed—the one that showed the lines radiating out from that same street corner, the lines that Will had convinced her were water pipes.

  And then what?

  Gaia wasn’t sure. Maybe Catherine and her captors would be there—maybe, for the first time since this all began, she wouldn’t be one step behind.

  The office towers were growing larger on the horizon against the darkening night sky. Philadelphia Civic Center 20, a green highway sign told her. Impatiently drumming her fingers on the steering wheel, Gaia willed the traffic to move faster. Her technique was ineffective. She and the six lanes of cars around her were stuck at the same lurching ten-mile-an-hour pace and, judging by the near stationary mass of cars ahead, would be for some time.

  TO SERVE GAIA

  “Agent Lau,” Agent Bishop said, her arms folded over her chest, “we don’t know what you were doing on the basement computers, but we strongly suspect that it has to do with the crusade Taylor’s been indulging in over the past twenty-four hours. Now, can’t you just make this easier for yourself and for us? Why throw away your career—your entire career, Kim—for something that has nothing to do with you?”

  Kim was in Malloy’s office on the top floor of the administration building, standing in front of Malloy’s desk at full attention. Along with Special Agent Bishop, they had been joined by a field agent Kim had never seen before—a blond man called Kinney. The armed guards who had found Kim in the basement computer room had grabbed him by the upper arms and brought him to face the chief. He had to believe that Will had gotten away and was en route to save Gaia, but he had no way of knowing and no way of asking.

  “I want to know where Taylor has gone,” Malloy insisted.

  Kim took a deep breath, stared straight at the cloudless sky out the window, and then answered.

  “As I told y
ou already, I haven’t seen Will Taylor since yesterday. I have no idea where he is or what he’s up to. I illegally entered the administration building basement alone, without anyone’s help or knowledge, for my own reasons, which I do not care to discuss.”

  “You’re protecting your friends,” Bishop said, “or trying to. But there’s a lot you don’t know.”

  “For two days,” Agent Kinney said, “according to high-level chatter, Gaia Moore has unknowingly made personal contact with a major Socorro operative with a very high ranking. Two days, Lau—that’s how long she’s been in contact with Socorro.”

  “You’re saying they’re in contact with her and she doesn’t know it?”

  “She doesn’t know what’s going on,” Bishop insisted urgently. “She’s got it all wrong.”

  Kim stood staring straight past Special Agent Malloy’s head at the window and the sky beyond.

  He’ll get to her in time. Will will make it to Philly and he’ll find Gaia and they’ll save Catherine. I believe it.

  I have to.

  fatalistic mood

  CENTER OF A SPIDER’S WEB

  The intersection—Decatur and Main—seemed to be right in front of a small federal courthouse.

  It was closing on 10 p.m., and Gaia was finally getting somewhere. At least she was off the highway and away from the almost dreamlike series of lane changes, roadside stops, gas stations, and motels that had taken over her life for the past forty-eight hours. She was in the middle of a major city now.

  She had driven three slow laps around the block, looking in vain for a parking place. It was a ridiculous problem to be having, but she couldn’t think of a way around it. Finally she had decided to just forget it, to double-park and let her car get towed. She’d already given up so much on this journey, she was getting fatalistic about what little else she had to give.

  And it’s not my car anyway, she thought absently. It’s Catherine’s.

  And right then she saw a spot. A couple in a Volvo were pulling out of a parking space right in front of the courthouse’s stone front steps. Gaia swerved over, took the spot, shut off the engine, and then sat there, taking a deep breath.

  Well, I’m here.

  Looking around, Gaia didn’t see anything unusual. The intersection was in a fairly lively neighborhood, surrounded by storefront shops and office buildings. The city felt different from New York and Stanford; Gaia had noticed this while driving in.

  After climbing out of the car and locking it, Gaia walked onto the sidewalk, looking up at the small colonial building in front of her. Philadelphia County Courthouse, the carved letters spelled out. For the third time she looked up at the street signs, confirming that this was indeed Decatur and Main.

  Casting her eyes down to the street, she noticed an iron manhole cover.

  Down there, she thought, is the magic spot. The point in the water network where pipes converged like the center of a spider’s web.

  There were many passersby on the sidewalk, mostly businesspeople. It was late, but Gaia could see that the courthouse was still open—probably because night court was in session. Its windows glowed yellow, and people were moving up and down the stone steps, carrying briefcases.

  I should be hiding, Gaia thought wearily. Out in the open like this, I’ll get caught. She remembered the agents in the motel that morning back in Maryland, the agents in the roadside rest area who had almost gotten her later in the day. And it wasn’t just the FBI—there was Socorro and James Rossiter (whose hands around her neck were a vivid memory). Gaia was tired of hiding, tired of running and chasing. At some point, she told herself, standing on the sidewalk with her hands in her pockets, they’ll get me. There’s no way around it.

  And amazingly, at the very moment she was thinking those words, a pair of hands landed heavily on her shoulders, gripping them tightly.

  There were so many martial arts moves she could make from this position, so many ways to turn the tables on whoever was trying to grab her. She could have propelled her would-be assailant vertically over her head by grabbing his forearms the right way.

  But somehow, oddly, the fatalistic mood she was in prevented all of that—which, as it turned out, was a very good thing. Instead of fighting, which in nearly any other circumstance she would have done without even thinking about it, Gaia just turned her head and looked behind her.

  Will Taylor was standing there.

  Gaia blinked. Have I finally lost it? she thought weakly. Am I hallucinating?

  But it was really him. He stood there with his hands still resting lightly on her shoulders, the Philadelphia streetlights shining on his blond hair and the shoulders of his blue sweatshirt. The look on his face was indescribable—there wasn’t the slightest trace of swagger or smirk about him. He looked at her face as if he was having the same reaction she was—as if he simply couldn’t believe it was really her.

  Without a word, Will pulled Gaia close and hugged her.

  They held each other so tightly that Gaia almost worried she was making it hard for Will to breathe. Her face was pressed against his shoulder, and the smell, the familiar smell of Will Taylor, soaked into her nostrils like perfume. She could feel the stubble of his cheek and chin pressing into the side of her head and his wide hands flat across her back.

  Finally they pulled apart. They stood facing each other, less than a foot away, with her face turned up toward his. Then, at nearly the same moment, they each took a step backward.

  “Will,” Gaia began awkwardly. “How did you—”

  Will grabbed her wrist, pulling her toward the courthouse steps. “Later,” he insisted. “We have to move now. Fast. There’s a bomb.”

  A ZEN CALM

  Will and Gaia came through the heavy iron-framed doors into the Philadelphia County Courthouse. They arrived in a large, well-lit lobby with marble walls. The lobby was full of businesspeople—attorneys and clients, Will figured—but most of them had their coats on and were carrying briefcases. It was just ten o’clock, according to the old-fashioned wall clock with the roman numerals.

  Night court’s ending, Will thought. The place is closing down for the night.

  Which was good, he figured. If the building was empty, a bomb would be less dangerous—and potentially would harm fewer people.

  Just us.

  “How do you know there’s a bomb?” Gaia was asking. “I don’t understand.”

  “I’ll explain later,” Will said impatiently. “But it’s here—in the courthouse.”

  “Why here?”

  Will had to firmly shove aside all his excitement at seeing her again. “Because Ramon Nino’s going to be in this building tomorrow,” he explained. “It’s his parole hearing. And James Rossiter’s going to blow the place up. Martyring Nino, I guess—for their cause.”

  “The snips of wire,” Gaia said, seemingly to herself. “The colored wires on the Ping Pong table. Of course—he builds bombs.”

  “What?”

  “Never mind,” Gaia snapped impatiently. “We’ve got to evacuate the building.”

  “There’s no time for that,” Will said impatiently, scanning his eyes along the rows of marble-framed doors that faced the lobby. “We’ve got to find it—let’s get moving.”

  “Where do we look first?”

  Will cast his mind back to Agent Baxter’s lectures in Quantico. Your experienced bomber is going to use the rules of physics to help him plant explosives, Baxter had told them. It had all sounded very intellectual and exciting back then—it was very different when you were actually standing in a building that had been primed to blow up.

  “We need to use logic,” Will said uncertainly. “Where would you put a bomb in this building in order to do maximum damage?”

  Gaia was looking around at the walls. “Low,” she said. “It’s an old stone building, without any steel structure. You want the bomb low to the ground to guarantee a structural collapse.”

  “I agree,” Will said hesitantly. He couldn’t stop
himself from darting his head around, looking at all the courtroom doors. He was trying to appear cool, like he wasn’t frightened, but it was very difficult. His overwhelming instinct was to get out of there, to run out of the front door and keep running until the courthouse was miles behind him. Instead Gaia was talking about getting closer to the bomb.

  She didn’t seem frightened at all, Will noticed. It was strange—impressive, but strange.

  “Let’s not waste time with these courtrooms,” Gaia argued. “They all have metal detectors and high security. No way to get explosives in there.”

  “Fine,” Will said. They were both keeping their voices low to avoid alarming the people around them.

  “Basement,” Gaia said, reaching to grab Will’s wrist. “Come on.”

  Moving against the tide of people who were leaving the building, Will and Gaia found their way to the back of the ornate marble lobby to a stairwell that led down. Their footsteps clattered loudly as they galloped down the stone steps, pushing through a swinging door with a pebbled-glass inlay.

  The basement was warmer and quieter than the lobby above it. The walls were painted an industrial gray, and the floor was gray cement. The low ceiling was lined with rows of naked fluorescent bulbs.

  “We have to go room to room,” Will said. He was trying to keep his voice steady, but it was hard to do. He had never in his life felt his “flight mechanism” raging as strong as it was right now. He had to concentrate on forcing his legs not to run away. His body was trembling with the exertion it took just to stay motionless.

  “Start there,” Gaia said, pointing at a wood-framed door. She seemed to be having none of these problems. Striding over, she pulled open the door and flipped the light on inside. Following her, Will saw that they’d entered a small storage room—metal chairs were stacked against the wall. Looking around, he saw that the room was basically a featureless box—no closets or cabinets, no place to hide anything.