by Jan Gangsei
Prom. It all came back to Darrow in a rush. Michael—the bomb. Darrow’s friends and classmates were in there. Addie.
He had to do something before it was too late. He grabbed the phone from his pocket, but there was no signal. So he pulled himself unsteadily to his feet and staggered up the aisle, leg dragging, drops of blood trailing behind. He hadn’t made it ten steps before the room started to spin and he collapsed again.
When Addie came to, her vision was foggy and she couldn’t get her bearings. Her head felt wobbly, like a balloon that had been cut loose from its string. For a moment, her body seized up with terror. It was happening. Again. The hands that had dragged her away when she was eight. They’d returned to steal her. Her greatest fear. Her worst nightmare. It just kept repeating like a string of code programmed to run forever. :a (nightmare) goto :a (nightmare). An infinite loop. Never-ending.
But as she strained against the handcuffs pinning her to the pilot’s seat in the old 747, she realized the situation was far, far worse. This wasn’t a nightmare. It was real. Straight ahead, she could see the camera she’d hidden in here earlier, now perched ominously against the window.
Down below, she could hear voices chattering, music, the laughter of her friends. All the sounds of normal life that she’d been denied the last eight years—all the things that had come to mean something to her again in the last few weeks. And it was about to end. She pulled at her restraints, the metal cutting into the soft skin of her wrists. She cried out, but the sound was muffled by the gag in her mouth.
At that moment, she knew the truth, the whole truth: Karl didn’t have any intention of bringing her home. Maybe he’d always planned to let her die in here. After all, what better way to prove to the president that his stance on security was wrong, than to actually kill his oldest daughter? Kidnapping her obviously hadn’t done the trick. Nor had hacking nuclear power stations, or planting fake bombs at fund-raisers and on Metro trains. Addie briefly wondered why he had even bothered sending her back to the White House in the first place. Why not just send her body floating down the Potomac with a note attached? But she knew the reason—Shi.
Addie shivered. Shi. That’s what he had been after all along. Karl wouldn’t be satisfied by simply proving a point. He wanted control—of everything. Every last bit of information in cyberspace.
Now he had it.
And Addie was the one who’d handed it to him. She hated herself for believing that he only intended to use it as a bargaining tool to force the president to change his policies. Karl knew that would never happen. She had been so, so stupid. Hot tears began to stream down her cheeks.
Her muffled sobs were interrupted by the sudden disappearance of the music down below. The room went silent, save for the whispers that swept across the crowd.
Down below, the students began to gasp.
“Oh my God!” someone yelled.
“What’s going on?” another said. Addie strained against the handcuffs, ignoring the pain, trying to break free. But it was no use.
Someone tapped the microphone and Addie heard a woman’s voice, speaking rapidly. “Students,” she said. “Please remain calm. I have just been informed that there is a gas leak in the building. Everyone exit in an orderly fashion. Do not stop to collect your belongings.”
Addie heard the shuffle of feet, chairs toppling, people shouting as they hurried toward the door. The room went eerily quiet.
Until something beeped.
Addie’s gaze went toward the sound. The camera in front of her. Her heart pounded wildly against her chest as the timer lit up: ten minutes.
And it began counting down.
Alvarez couldn’t believe what she was seeing. Straight ahead, students in elegant gowns and tuxedos were streaming out the glass doors of the Air and Space Museum and down the front steps. Alvarez broke into a sprint, shouting into her mouthpiece, but she got no response—until another screech sounded and the voice from earlier returned.
“It’s a shame you don’t know how to listen, Agent Alvarez,” it said. “You can’t say you weren’t warned. Now the president’s daughter dies.”
“Wait, no!” Alvarez screamed. “I did listen. I don’t know what’s going on. Please, you can’t hurt her! I’m begging you. Give me a minute to figure this out.”
“Sorry, too late.” The transmission cut out. Alvarez tried to switch channels, radio for help, but it was useless. She pulled out her cell phone. No signal. Her only hope now was that Devers had understood the message.
Alvarez ran to the doors of the museum as the students pushed through, scattering in every direction. She searched the crowd for a familiar burgundy dress, but couldn’t find it. There was no sign of Addie Webster. Anywhere.
The final student limped through the door, face pale, barely able to stand. Alvarez immediately recognized him—Cheryl Fergusson’s kid, Darrow. Addie’s friend. He was breathing heavily, a visible gunshot wound to his right thigh. Alvarez grabbed him around the waist and helped lower him to the steps. She removed her jacket and pressed it to the wound. Darrow flinched.
“You’re going to be okay,” Alvarez said. “Doesn’t look deep. We’ll get you help. But right now I need to know, where is Addie? Have you seen her?”
“No,” he said. “I was hoping she was with you. That she made it out. Before I warned them about the bomb…” He began to breathe heavily. “Oh my God, that means he has her. He must have her.…”
“Who?” Alvarez asked.
“That guy, Michael,” Darrow said. “The one who shot me.…”
“Any idea where he might have taken her?” Alvarez said.
“I don’t know, I’m sorry.” Darrow put his face in his hands.
“It’s okay,” she said. “I’m going to find her.”
Alvarez stood, racking her brain. This Michael guy could’ve taken Addie anywhere by now. They could be miles away. But…the threat had been very specific. They were going to blow up the Cabot prom and Addie Webster. Alvarez’s gut told her it was ninety-nine to one that Addie was still in that building. And right now, a gut feeling was all Alvarez had to go on.
There was no time to hang around hoping for backup. Alvarez turned and ran into the cavernous museum.
Addie’s entire body shook as she yanked against the handcuffs. The timer on the camera read three minutes, fourteen seconds. Her arms fell limp. It was hopeless. This was where she was going to die. She wondered if dying hurt. But the thought of her own pain wasn’t nearly as horrible as the thought of the pain her death would cause the people around her. They’d suffered through losing her once; now they would lose her for good.
A shout down below made her jolt forward. Someone was screaming her name.
“Addie! Addie, where are you?”
Alvarez. Her voice echoed from somewhere in the room below. Addie struggled against her restraints again, twisting her head and trying to loosen the gag in her mouth, her will to live rising furiously back up. She couldn’t surrender. She couldn’t let him win. She took a deep breath and scanned the cockpit, looking for something—anything—she could use to free herself from her restraints, make some noise.
The agent’s shouts grew closer. Desperate, Addie tried to shout back through the gag, but the sound came out garbled and faint. Alvarez’s voice began to move farther away. Addie was losing her chance. She tried to make noise some other way, pounding her head against the controls in front of her and stomping her feet on the floor. Alvarez’s voice continued to grow fainter. But as Addie stomped, she heard something else, something rattling by her foot.
She looked down, catching sight of something shiny and gold on the floor. Her heart leapt. Mikey. She knew he wouldn’t just let her die. Not without giving her a fighting chance. Carefully, she slid the black pumps from her feet and extended her leg, straining to reach the thing on the floor. Her toes hit the edge, pushing it just slightly farther away. Shit. Addie drew her foot back and took a few measured breaths. She only had one shot at
this. She couldn’t mess up. She shifted in her seat and extended her leg again.
This time, her foot landed on top of the cool glass face. Addie slid it over until it was directly beneath her and, with the other foot, pressed her phone’s panic button. Nothing happened. Addie squinted at the screen. No signal?
She looked at the camera’s timer—one minute, twelve seconds. She frantically jammed the button again, holding it down the way Alvarez had showed her to sound an audible alarm. After five seconds, a high-pitched wail filled the air, loud enough that Addie’s eardrums felt like they might pop. She jolted and the phone slid out from beneath her foot. She tried to get it back, but this time, it was too far out of reach.
Alvarez was just exiting the room when she heard the unmistakable screech of Addie’s alarm. She stopped short and spun around, trying to pinpoint its location. But no sooner had she taken a step forward than the sound came to an abrupt halt.
“Addie?” Alvarez said.
No response.
Alvarez searched the room—there was still nothing in here, save for the empty tables, toppled chairs, and random jackets people had left behind in their rush to flee. Maybe it was coming from somewhere else?
“Addie?” Alvarez said again, louder this time. She held still, listening for any sort of response.
Just then, Alvarez heard a faint thumping. She tilted her head toward the noise. It was coming from the nose of the 747 that jutted out over the dance floor.
“Hold on!” Alvarez shouted. “I’m coming.”
Alvarez raced up the steps, across the catwalk, into the cockpit, and stopped short. Straight ahead, Addie sat in the pilot’s seat with her back to the door, hands cuffed behind her. She made a muffled noise. Alvarez hurried over and pulled the gag from her mouth. The girl gasped for air.
“Christina,” she choked out. “There’s a bomb.…”
“Don’t worry,” Alvarez said. “I’m gonna get you out of here.” She fumbled for her handcuff key, realizing that in her haste she’d left it in the jacket she’d pressed onto Darrow’s leg.
“Damn it,” she said, fiddling with the cuffs. “I’m just going to have to see if I can get these off some other way.…”
“Don’t bother,” Addie said, head dropping in defeat. “I’ve already tried. It’s too late.”
Alvarez stopped and looked at the girl. Her face was streaked with tears and an angry bump had risen up on her forehead.
“There’s no time,” Addie said frantically. “It’s a bomb.” She nodded toward the camera. The timer now read fifty-one seconds. “You should get out of here or you’re going to die, too.”
“No way, Songbird,” Alvarez said. “I’m not leaving you behind.”
Alvarez reached over Addie’s shoulder. Sweat beading on her forehead, she carefully lifted the camera.
“Any idea what kind of explosives are in here?” Alvarez asked. She considered racing outside the cockpit and chucking it as far away as possible—but only if she could be certain what she was dealing with. A dirty bomb could still kill them, even at a hundred feet away.
“No,” Addie said. “I’m sorry.”
The timer read thirty seconds.
In that case, Alvarez would have to defuse it. “Well, here goes nothing.” She slid the camera’s battery cover off, exposing a tangle of white and black wires beneath. She inspected their paths, trying to recall everything she’d learned in explosives class. She wiped her forehead with the back of her hand.
“Can you do it?” Addie said.
“I don’t know,” Alvarez answered. “They’ve rigged this with two sets of wires. One to disarm it. One to cause an immediate explosion. It’s going to take me longer than twenty seconds to figure out which is which.”
“Please,” Addie cried. “Go. Just get out of here.”
“I told you, I’m not going anywhere,” Alvarez said. The timer ticked down to fifteen seconds. Alvarez started muttering quickly out loud. “White or black. White or black. White or black. Oh, the hell with it…black.” She reached her fingers toward the wires.
“No!” Addie shouted suddenly. “White. It’s white.”
The timer ticked down to seven seconds. “You sure?”
“Yes!”
The timer ticked down to three seconds.
Two.
There was no more time to be indecisive. Alvarez held her breath and yanked the white wire loose.
The timer hit one.
And stopped.
Alvarez’s arms fell to her sides. She glanced up at Addie, eyes wide.
“Chess,” Addie explained. “White always goes first.”
“Holy hell,” Alvarez answered. “I don’t even want to know.” Every bit of anxiety that had been welling up for the last hour suddenly left Alvarez’s body in an enormous, inappropriate laugh. She was still laughing and shaking, tears streaming down her face, when Devers ran to the cockpit door with a handful of other agents.
“Jesus, what’s so funny, Big Al?” Devers said. “Still laughing about your damn Buckeyes joke?”
Alvarez regained her composure and wiped her face with the back of her hand. “I knew you’d figure it out eventually.” The entire service was aware that Devers was a die-hard Ohio State basketball fan. And even Alvarez knew they had already been knocked out of the championship. “Now give me your handcuff key,” she said, “so we can get the hell out of here.”
Darrow sat on a stretcher in the back of the ambulance, watching the museum through the open back doors. A bunch of Secret Service agents had just rushed in, right before the ambulance, fire trucks, and hazmat teams arrived. Darrow craned his neck past the medic dabbing antiseptic on his wound, attempting to see what was happening.
“Hold still there, buddy,” the medic said as he applied a butterfly stitch to the gash on Darrow’s thigh. “You’re lucky. Didn’t hit any major arteries. But you’ve lost some blood, and we need to take you to the hospital and get you checked out by a doctor.”
“Uh-huh,” Darrow mumbled.
Straight ahead, Darrow spotted Alvarez. She was walking down the steps, arm around Addie’s waist, flanked by Secret Service agents on either side. Darrow wobbled to his feet.
“Hey, what do you think you’re doing?” the medic said. “I just said, you need to go to the hospital.”
Before the guy could stop him, Darrow hobbled to the street and toward the steps. Addie spotted him immediately.
“Dare!” She broke free of Alvarez’s arm and moved unsteadily down the stairs. “I was so afraid you were…” she began, stopping short and looking down at her hands.
“Nah. I’m not that easy to get rid of,” Darrow answered. “I thought you’d have realized that by now.”
Addie glanced back up at him from beneath her long lashes, a sad laugh catching in her throat. “I don’t want to get rid of you,” she said. “Ever.”
“Good,” he said.
“But listen, Dare,” Addie whispered, glancing once back at Alvarez, who was a few steps away, watching. “You have to stay away from me. My life is over. He has Shi. It’s too late to stop him. It doesn’t matter that I’m the president’s daughter. They’re going to arrest me once they figure it…”
Darrow put a finger to her lips and the rest of her words died away. “No one’s going to arrest you,” he said gently. He reached into his pocket and pulled something out, pressing it into Addie’s palm and closing her hand around it.
Addie stood there dumbfounded for a moment, then uncurled her fingers and glanced down. No red dot. She began to speak, but her voice caught in her throat. So Darrow did the only thing that felt right—he wrapped his arms around her, folding her into an embrace. He wouldn’t let her go. Not this time. Not ever.
The moment he’d waited years for had come. His do-over.
One last chance to make his final move.
The plane raced down the runway and, with a jolt, lifted into the night sky. They had escaped just as the APB had gone out for the immediate
arrests of Karl and Michael Erlander. Fear gripped Michael’s chest. At the same time, a small wave of relief washed over him. If he was a wanted man, that meant she was still alive. The bomb hadn’t detonated. And Michael hadn’t killed his best friend.
“Where are we going?” Michael said as he opened his computer and began loading Shi.
“Somewhere safe,” his father said. “To a place whose government values the information we have at our fingertips. The president is going to regret not taking our threats seriously. If he thinks his daughter is all that matters, he needs to think again.”
Michael nodded, easily logging on to the White House network. Father had created a new opening for them days earlier, just in case she had second thoughts and closed the hole she’d created. A few more keystrokes, and Shi was up and running.
But as the plane banked left and the D.C. skyline receded in the distance, Michael felt like the entire world was falling out from beneath him. His long fingers trembled as he typed. He stared at the screen, terrified to open his mouth and tell Father what he was seeing.
“What is it, son?” Karl asked.
Michael turned his dark blue eyes to the man across the table, then back to his computer, watching as Shi wormed its way through the White House network—fixing every flaw it found. How? How? In a rush of horror and rage, he realized: somehow in the scuffle with that boy, Michael must have grabbed the wrong program. Feeling light-headed with terror, he spoke.
“I think we have a problem, Father.”