by Misty Evans
“Celina insists I stop looking at the world with worst-case scenario glasses.”
Nelson barked a laugh. “Good luck with that.”
By the time they reached their check-in point a large group had gathered, including Roman Walsh.
“You leading us on this jaunt, Walsh?” Cooper shook the man’s hand.
“Somebody’s got to keep you in line,” Roman replied with a grin. For his part in today’s training, Roman and several of the other high-ranking supervisors would record and analyze how efficient and effective the current systems were and what needed to be improved upon. Cooper was relieved to find he would be working with someone he knew and trusted.
A round of introductions were made. Their group was comprised of Cooper and Nelson, two San Diego police officers, a representative of FEMA, two FBI agents, three Homeland agents, and Roman. Cooper would have thought the mix unusual, except he understood the reasons behind it. When a true disaster struck, every agency would be called into action, and you didn’t get to pick and choose who you worked with. Everyone would have the same goal—saving lives and hunting down the bad guys.
Roman began dividing the team into smaller groups. “Agents Butterman and Arturis,” he addressed the Bureau meatheads, “You’re with Harris and Cruz today.”
Cooper tried not to groan out loud. Of course, Walsh would sack him with the Feds. He eyed the two men, hoping his intense dislike wasn’t plastered on his face. To their credit, they didn’t look any more thrilled than he was. Although his taskforce included several FBI agents he’d give his life for, he disliked working with Feds on general principle. They tended to look down their noses on DEA agents like him, as though the Bureau were the elite of the elite.
“Butterball, was it?” With a cocky grin, Nelson thrust his hand out to the first agent. “Is that like the turkey?”
Cooper managed to hide his laugh behind a discreet cough. Damn he loved working with Nelson.
“Funny, like I haven’t heard that one before,” the agent growled, jaw tense. “It’s Butterman, dickhead.”
“Now don’t be rude.” Nelson whistled low, his hand dropping back to his side. “My feelings are almost hurt.”
“The Southern California Taskforce, huh?” Butterman’s partner, Arturis, directed the question to Cooper, effectively putting an end to Nelson’s one-man comedy show. A pity. Cooper was just beginning to enjoy himself.
“That’s right.” Arms folded over his chest, Cooper nodded. “I’m Cooper Harris. This is Nelson Cruz, ICE agent and a top-notch member of my team.”
Arturis snapped his fingers. “I thought so. Harris, right. You’re head of the Taskforce, right?” At Cooper’s nod, the guys mouth curved into a smirk, and he nudged his counterpart. “Well, lookie here, Tom. We’re partnered with some real true-blue American heroes for the day.”
Sarcasm dripped from the agent’s voice, and Cooper uncrossed his arms. He was tempted to put a fist in the guys’ smug face, but kept his anger in check. “It was nice of your director to let you boys come out from behind your desks to play. Give you some experience. You might learn a thing or two about real fieldwork today.”
Nelson snorted, not even bothering to hide it. Butterman looked like he wanted to say something, while Arturis merely glared. Cooper smiled, knowing he’d hit the mark. That’s right, fucker. Say something, I dare you.
“As of ten seconds ago, you men were put on high alert,” Roman interrupted, making a point to look all of them in the face before continuing. Nice way to diffuse the situation. “We were struck by a 6.5 magnitude earthquake at approximately 0900 hours and casualties are high. Victims are flooding into this facility, which has been turned into a fallout shelter. The integrity of this building and the safety for all inside must be maintained at all cost.”
Forced to table their animosity, Cooper turned his back on the agents to give Roman his full attention.
“This is our only means of communication, the cell towers were knocked down by the earthquake.” Roman held up a walkie-talkie so everyone could see. “Keep one of these on you at all times and be ready to act. The dirty bomb is set to go off any minute.” He lowered his arm to gesture at the rows of Kevlar vests, biohazard suits, and air masks lining the bleachers. “Suit up, gentlemen.”
Cooper shrugged into a vest, securing it tightly before attaching one of the walkie-talkies to a clip on his chest. Might only be a training session, but it sure felt like the real deal. His eyes wandered over the room and he spotted Celina stepping into a protective suit complete with an air mask, her favorite camera hung on a strap around her neck. Adrenaline coursed through his veins as their eyes met over the crowd, and for the briefest of moments it was only the two of them, caught up in a room full of chaos.
A loud noise similar to an explosion went off outside the main arena to their right. Thick clouds of smoke began rolling through the open doorways. Small talk ceased and everyone got down to business. Those who didn’t have masks on yet hurriedly put them on.
The adrenaline already coursing through his veins hit tenfold as the smoke grew thicker, obscuring his vision and cutting off his view of Celina. He grabbed his air mask and secured it on his face, sucking the fresh air deeply into his already burning lungs. Cries of alarm came at him from every direction and reality settled into his gut.
“A bomb has gone off somewhere inside the arena,” a voice came over the walkie-talkie attached to Cooper’s vest. “First unit respond, I repeat, first unit respond.”
“We’re up,” Roman yelled, grabbing the walkie-talkie at his side. “Home base, this is first unit team leader responding. We are suited up and ready to go in, over.”
“Team leader be advised, there are high levels of radiation present in the northeast section of the building. Your team has twenty minutes to get in, look for any survivors and bomb fragments, and get out before the radiation level poses a threat to your safety,” the voice responded.
Cooper grimaced. Twenty minutes. Not enough time. Then again, the simulation was designed to make it as real as possible, and if a dirty bomb containing radioactive material had truly exploded, then twenty minutes was all a human body could safely handle before adverse effects would take place.
“Noted, home base. Over and out.” Roman clipped the walkie-talkie to his vest and turned to the group. “Twenty minutes, in and out.” He adjusted the watch on his wrist, setting a timer. “No more, no less. This is a recovery of the bomb, and potential rescue, people. Get your game face on and let’s get this done.”
Cooper took the steps two at a time as they headed to the top of the bleachers and to the exit doors. The suit, oxygen tank, and vest added to his bulk. Out in the hall, the smoke hung like a heavy blanket in the air, making it almost impossible to see around them. Cooper was insanely thankful for the air masks and oxygen. There was no way they would be able to tolerate this amount of smoke without them.
He wondered briefly what Celina was doing, then just as quickly shoved her to the furthest recesses of his mind. He couldn’t afford to be distracted right now, not when there was so much riding on this exercise. Eleven months and nine days of planning had gone into this event. Everyone needed to be at the top of their game. Celina would be fine, he had little doubt.
Didn’t stop him from worrying.
Seeing through the smoke was going to be a problem though. If they couldn’t see, then how in the hell were they going to find anything?
“Smoke rises,” he called out, catching Roman’s attention.
Roman motioned with a thumb to the floor. “Get lower to the ground.”
The team dropped to their knees and continued onward. Cooper was able to make out the lower portions of countertops and doorways as they inched in and around the food stands, bathrooms, and past the retail shop, checking for survivors or signs of the bomb.
“Five minutes down.” Roman’s voice came over the walkie-talkie, slightly muffled by the shield of his mask. Cooper gritted his teeth. Fiftee
n minutes left and they’d found nothing. A sense of urgency gripped him, and he yearned to pick up the pace, but years of training had him stay the course. Every room needed a clean sweep, and no surface left unchecked. Rushing through things only left room for error, and that one error could mean the difference between life and death.
They made their way through the hallway, doing a sweep of every office, supply closet, and one of the VIP rooms. Sweat beaded his brow, pooling between his shoulder blades, and still he pressed on. Damn it was hot. The Kevlar vest was heavy against his back, the added heat of the suit coupled with the heavy smoke not helping the situation.
They hadn’t been kidding when they said these exercises would test their endurance levels. Even with his daily workouts, Cooper was beginning to feel the strain on his body already as he pushed around a corner, coming to an abrupt halt at the pair of shoes blocking his path. Four mannequins lay on the ground, their frozen features oblivious to their surroundings. Civilians. The training docket had mentioned there would be props added throughout the session and they were to expect anything.
“We need to get these civilians to safety,” Roman announced, grabbing the first one, a woman, and hoisting her into his arms. “I’ll report our progress to team two so they can pick up where we left off.”
“But sir, what about the bomb?” Butterman asked, and Cooper could hear the frown in the other man’s voice. Inexperienced asshole. Getting civilians to safety took priority. Any agent who’d spent time in the field would know that, or at least they sure as hell should.
Roman shook his head. “No time. We have ten minutes to get these people to safety before our radiation exposure level maxes out. Team two will have to continue on.”
Cooper managed to tamp down his frustration to help a grumbling Butterman with one of the victims. Over his shoulder he could tell that Nelson was in a similar situation, and the two men shared an exasperated look through the shield of their masks. It was becoming painstakingly obvious the two FBI agents had little to no experience, and Cooper wondered why in the hell the Bureau had sent them to the training session. It was too little, too late for that question though. Deal with the current situation and table the rest for now.
With Nelson on his six and the rest of the team ahead of him, Cooper helped drag one of the mannequins back the way they had come until they finally reached the doors to the basketball court. The smoke had thinned considerably and they were able to regain their feet to carry the mannequins down to the waiting EMTs. Team two was in position to go in, and Roman paused so he could debrief the team leader of their progress.
“That was pretty intense,” Nelson managed, tugging his mask off and wiping sweat from his brow.
Cooper followed suit, feeling some relief when a blast of cool air hit his hot, sweaty skin. “I expected as much. Did you have any problems?”
“Other than dickhead one not knowing what he was doing?” Nelson quipped dryly. “No, we managed. How about you?”
“Pretty routine for a search and rescue, other than the variables.” Cooper caught Arturis and Butterman out of the corner of his eye. “You think your new best friends learned anything?”
“Doubt it.” Nelson snorted in disbelief. “Those fuckers have probably never been out from behind a desk, let alone in the field. They probably don’t even know what just happened.”
“Yeah, I kind of thought the same.” Cooper chuckled, eyes drifting over the room. He searched for the familiar, curvy shape he knew so well, but came up empty. He frowned. “Have you seen Celina?”
Nelson rolled his eyes. “Yeah, I was keeping tabs on her while covering your ass.”
“Funny.” Cooper tried to smile, but failed.
“She’s fine, boss. I’m sure they sent her in to take pictures of something. No big deal,” Nelson added when he saw Cooper was actually worried.
No big deal, except they hadn’t even found a scene to photograph yet. Celina can take care of herself, Cooper reasoned with himself, trying to brush it off, but something about this didn’t feel right. She should have been there. And if she wasn’t there, then where in the hell was she?
3
They really pulled out all the stops for this, Celina surmised, lifting the camera to snap off a few photos. When the fake bomb had been detonated, it seemed so real she thought it was actually happening. Her first instinct was to find Cooper and make sure he was all right. Her second, to check on their friends.
It was the amount of smoke that had thrown her off guard. The head of her crime scene team explained that the smoke was simulated using fog machines, which was a pretty ingenious idea if you asked her. It gave a scary, all-too-real picture of what it could look like should a real bomb explode inside the building.
Celina blew out a sigh, anxious to get her part started. Once the teams had a chance to do their sweep and the radiation levels were brought down to a safe level, Celina, along with two other crime scene photographers, would be sent in to take pictures and video. For now, they were cooling their heels and waiting to hear the word.
Movement from the corner of her eye drew her attention as a couple of EMT workers left one of the medic tents where they were triaging the ‘injured’. They were dressed similarly, save for one wearing a baseball cap who slunk off toward an exit door marked with fluorescent pink tape. Her eyes widened when he glanced over his shoulder and she caught a glimpse of the face beneath the bill. It was the biker guy from the bar the previous night.
The exit door swung shut behind him as she watched. Huh. Guess he’s part of the training session after all.
Feeling like a heel for having judged him, Celina started to brush it off, but the pink tape brought her up short. No one was authorized to leave the designated areas of the live session, and the EMT had just blown right by the pink tape marking a restricted section.
What is he up to?
A cigarette break? A phone call? A run to the bathroom? Fine time to do any of that when people were injured and a dirty bomb was wreaking havoc.
Celina skirted around several people to get to the EMT that Baseball Cap had emerged with. “Hey, sorry to bother you, but do you know that guy you were just walking with?”
“What?” The EMT was clearly busy and Celina had to walk swiftly to keep up with him.
“The EMT wearing the camouflage baseball cap. Do you know him?”
The guy grabbed a box of latex gloves from one of the supply tables and headed back toward the tent again. “Um, he’s new. Jim something. Said he’s with Unit 62 across town. Didn’t plan to be here today, but one of the other guys called in sick this morning. Why?”
Hmm. “Any reason he’d go into one of the restricted areas for something?”
“Restricted area?” The guy shook his head, looking slightly aggravated at Celina’s persistence as she followed him. “Nah, he said he forgot his nametag in his ambulance. Went to get it after our team leader gave him shit.”
“But the ambulances are parked out front,” she said as much to herself as to him. “He’s heading in the wrong direction.”
The EMT shrugged. “He’ll figure it out.”
He ducked into the tent.
One of the security guards passed by her and she grabbed his arm. “Hey, a new EMT just went into a restricted area. I think he’s confused about where the front doors of this place are. It’s so huge, he’s probably turned around. Can you go find him?”
This guy, too, was in a hurry to get somewhere and she had to follow him. “Sure, lady. I’ve got six people who need help, I’ll get right on finding your lost guy.”
Celina stopped in place and started to smart off, but the security officer was already gone, disappearing into the crowd.
The door Baseball Cap had gone through was only a few feet away.
A quick glance and she saw her CSI team was still standing around doing nothing, and pausing only a moment, she slipped out the same door.
The hallway was silent, no fog in the dark corridor, and
the only sound the swishing of her biochemical suit as she walked. Using her cell phone’s flashlight, she illuminated the dark hallway, peering into doorways as she passed. Only silence greeted her and she chewed her lower lip, wondering where the hell the guy had gone.
It really wasn’t her business, and yet, she felt the pull to find him and get him back on track. Someone could get lost in the huge arena.
The corridor led to stairs going down and another section of the building she’d never been in before. Her flashlight beam illuminated signs with directions and arrows. She passed entrances to locker rooms and a large workout room. Nobody was there.
She was about to turn back when she heard a man’s voice coming from a distant hallway. “I’ve got it handled…yeah, they’re all here. I’m going to get the ambulance now. Deton—” he paused. “Gotta go. Be ready in ten.”
Be ready in ten? Had she heard that right?
She started to call out and ask if he was lost, but something made her keep her mouth shut. She inched toward the end of the hall.
Silence, the conversation apparently over, hung heavy, and then she heard the squeak of booted footsteps hurrying away on the linoleum floor.
She glanced back the way she’d come. The EMT’s words rang in her ears, Didn’t plan to be here today, but one of the other guys called in sick this morning.
Except the man had been in the bar last night.
Whoever he was, he was up to no good, she could feel it in her bones.
She was too curious for her own good. Curious and determined to figure out who this guy was and what the hell he might be up to.
Several more turns and corridors later, she heard a door open and close. Following the sound, she came to a large open bay area, one where trucks could pull in and unload. There was a door marked with an exit sign. He must have gone out this way.
Pushing through cautiously, she found herself blinking against sunshine on a loading dock located at the rear of the arena. The stalls were empty, though she caught the red and white lettering of an ambulance nestled in the narrow alley between the sports arena and their hotel.