“Where are you going?” he asked while checking the room.
“I can’t stay cooped up another minute. I’m going out.” I was also sick with worry about Sylvia. “What about my sister? Do you have any update? It’s been too long. She never took this long to return my messages. I think it’s about time I notify my parents of what’s going on.”
“I would advise against it at this time, and it’s also the opinion of the FBI CT division.”
“Are you serious?”
“Rachid has already too much information about you, and until we have confirmation of her kidnapping, I expect you to wait a while longer,” he said, exiting the bathroom.
This idea did not sit too well with me. Although it made perfect sense, I was feeling increasingly isolated having to carry this silent burden by myself. But then again, the last thing I wanted was to give ammunition to this evil man to mess with other members of my family.
After tapping a few times on his device, Drake sat on one of my easy chairs in the sitting area and exhaled with concerned etched on his face. His phone rang again and a deep frown settled on his face while he stared at me. After a minute, he got up and paced while continuing to talk. He hung up after uttering only a few words and took the remote control to turn on the flat-screen TV in the room.
“… been working as a CNN correspondent is reported missing while covering the tension on the border of Iraq and Turkey. Authorities are reporting that among the group of seven journalists on location, she is the only one missing…”
My heart jumped and my stomach turned, and I sat on the nearest seat when they showed a stock picture of the missing journalist. I’d seen it; it was often used whenever she was covering a story and there was no video feed. There was no doubt; it was Sylvia. My throat tightened with every passing second while my eyes burned from the build up of emotions as I watched helplessly while the reporter convey the news flash of the hour.
Drake was standing behind me and rested a hand on my shoulder. He was kind enough to answer my unspoken question.
“No. There has been no claim about her kidnapping yet.”
“But I don’t understand. We tried to comply with this terrorist’s demands.”
He faced me.
“They may not see it that way, and what’s more, no prisoners have been released yet.”
“Why would he care for my original plans? If he is watching me, he must know I’ve tried to follow with my itinerary. It doesn’t make sense. Why is he so keen on it since what he wants is the release of his family members from their respective prisons?”
“I wish I knew. Anyway, you should try to stay positive. As you know, there are dozens of journalists off the grid in this sector these days. There might be still a chance that your sister is missing for a reason that has nothing to do with Rachid,” he said with a neutral note.
I couldn’t argue with him, but I think he was trying to reassure me as best as he could. It didn’t work. Rachid did not strike me as someone who would bluff. I couldn’t stay idle any longer. Not that there was anything I could do, but I just needed to go out, get some fresh air and perspective.
I grabbed my jacket and purse and headed to exit the room.
“Where do you think you are going?”
“Out.”
“Not alone. I’m coming with you. Everyone you cross could work with Rachid. There has been numerous bombing all over Europe in the last twenty-four hours, and you think it’s safe for you to venture alone in the city?”
“I will not let these events dictate everything I do until every terrorists on the planet is eliminated. Who can live like that?”
“I’ll get my jacket. Wait here a second.”
We exited the hotel into the cool humid air of the evening. The pavement was still wet from the rain earlier, and a light mist was visible around the lampposts down the street. Steinfield walked by my side as we went around the small park in front of the hotel before heading to the bridge, a mere two hundred feet away. He kept his hands deep in his leather jacket pockets while I held my purse tight. A sidewalk would protect us from the ever present traffic on the historical Chain Bridge. Its name, I googled, is related to the heavy iron chains on which the road bed hangs, joining the massive two 48 meters river piers. At its entrance, two monumental stone lions kept a watchful eye on us. I took out my camera.
“Would you mind standing by that lion? It would give a sense of proportion of how huge these statues are.” And this is my chance to grab a little souvenir of special agent Drake Steinfield. This way I’d be able to remind myself after this whole trip and ordeal was over that I did not dream having a sexy FBI agent tailing me.
“This is your vacation, so give me the camera; I’ll take one of you instead.” He held his hand out for me to give him the camera.
Argh, he was making this difficult, and I didn’t want him to know what I was up to.
“Wait, don’t move. I need to check if my flash will reach this distance.” Click, zoom on his face and click again.
We traded places and continued our walk crossing over the bridge. We stopped in the middle of the bridge to admired the view. On one side, the Hotel Gresham looked like an intimate but elegant palace with its neo-classical architecture. On the other side of the bridge, sitting with majesty on the hill, was the imposing Buda Castle brightening the dark blue evening sky with its extensive stately architecture, a gold massive structure with a dignified facade lighted by a multitude a yellow spotlights. Before turning back to the hotel, Drake received another call. For once, I didn’t need to pry out the information he received.
“The SWAT team I dispatched earlier found a massive explosive devise at Keleti train station a few minutes ago. The local bombing experts are examining the equipment as we speak. Luckily, it did not go off because they disarmed it in time. Apparently, the device had been set up to go off on a timer at noon today. I must say that these explosions seem to follow you everywhere.”
Indeed, I was getting the same impression. Keleti Station was less than three miles from my hotel.
“Was this one also related to the Orient-Express?” I asked as we walked back to the hotel.
“Well, if you are asking if they found the explosive on the platform used by the Orient-Express, the answer is no. The set up was hidden by Platform Number 5. Why do you ask?” We walked through the hotel’s main entrance.
I followed him to his room and waited for him to fire up his laptop to get more details on the bombing. He didn’t object to my presence as I expected him. I was also surprised at how tidy he had left his room.
But before I answered, I remembered something important which needed to be checked immediately.
“Excuse me a minute; I need to get something from my room. I’ll be right back.”
His attention had already diverted back to his reports, so I dashed next door and retrieved my unused train ticket from Venice to Budapest.
He lifted his head when I returned.
“Do you know if there is anyone doing a double itinerary like me on the Orient-Express?” I asked.
“Interesting point. I’ll check.” He frowned, considering the possibilities.
“Perhaps because so far, every explosion has happened in cities where the Orient-Express stops; at least it’s true for the London-Venice line and also for the Paris to Istanbul line. You remember, during the police interrogation in Venice when they asked me to list everyone I talked to? Well, that backpacker in Paris, before he left me, said there would be death by the Orient-Express. At the time, I assumed he made a grammatical error and was teasing me about the book I carried, but now I wonder.”
“Ok, you may have something here. It’s worth checking.” His eyes sparkled with interest. But just as quickly, his expression morphed.
“You should have mentioned this in Venice to the chief of operation at the Head Office of Security,” he added, squinting with a light frown and pursed lips while scratchi
ng his stubbled chin. He made another call requesting that the passenger list on both VSOE circuits be validated and to alert authorities to diffuse an alert to locate that backpacker.
After he hung up, I handed him my unused train ticket. He studied me.
“What’s on your mind?” he asked, intrigued after examining the train ticket.
“Maybe I am being paranoid, but would it be possible to check if this train was to arrive at the same platform where the explosion occurred in Budapest’s train station?” He eyed me with a mixture of curiosity and admiration but still agreed to send the requests.
“You want to establish whether the explosive setup was meant to coincide with the arrival of your initial red eye from Venice to Budapest rather than the Orient-Express? That’s quite an interesting theory. I’ll send a message for this information to be validated and be included in the report.” A gleam of excitement was now illuminating his features.
Despite the horrible news about my sister and of these upcoming set of explosions, I had to admit it relieved me that he was sharing so much information about the situation. It was as if I was granted an insider’s window on how the Interpol operated. His confiding in me flattered me. But still, my mind was reeling as I could feel that there was a piece of puzzle missing. There was a pattern to these explosions, but I couldn’t see it yet. He interrupted my pondering on that when he spoke again.
“Another message for Rachid’s faction just came in. Basically, he is giving the governments twelve hours to free the prisoners or he will trigger bombs from here to Istanbul. As a grand finale, he has hidden several bombs in the Sulthanamet District, and they will explode the minute the Orient-Express enters the Istanbul station. He also wrote that there will be consequences for the reporter because his previous instructions were not respected.”
“Oh, but what is the US embassy doing to help my sister?” Panic gripped me as I realized how we were running out of time to save Sylvia. I’d never felt so useless in my life. “Maybe I should go there. It’s not far from the hotel, I believe. I can’t sit around and wait for those maniacs to assassinate her.”
“I’m sorry, but I cannot intervene in the embassy’s affairs, so the best you can do is to focus on the here and now. They wouldn’t be able to help. It’s not within their jurisdiction. Perhaps, and if I follow your train of thought, the explosive did not come off in the Budapest train station because you arrived by plane instead of by train as per your original travel itinerary. It must have messed up Rachid’s plans. I will know more when the report about the setup of the explosives comes in.”
He started to pace the room while jiggling his box in his pocket. I was about to make a comment about the juvenile habit but refrained. Everyone is entitled to use whatever stress reliever they can find. I’d be willing to take a bet he is an ex-smoker.
He stopped and faced me with a shrewd expression. “Do you have a timetable for all of your train itineraries?”
I fetched them from my carry-on and returned. “What do you have in mind?”
He snapped a picture with his cell phone and sent it by email along with further instructions. Next he was on the phone talking to someone from the Interpol, I gathered.
“First, I want the Interpol to compare the timetable I’ve just sent with every explosion that took place these last forty-eight hours with every arrival time of the VSOE. And as of now, I want every damn train track and station between here and Istanbul to be combed for explosives, tampering and suspicious malfunction. Also, while the train is in the station, I want it searched for any explosive setup.” He hung up and return to his laptop, but I interrupted him.
“But there isn’t enough time before we arrive in Istanbul. Even if their people searched the five or six train stations we will cross on our way to Istanbul, it will be impossible to ensure the safety of the passengers between the stations along the tracks with the time we have left?” I reminded him once he hung up.
“Believe me, I am aware of that.”
“Can’t we divert or evacuate the train?”
“No. Rachid's latest instructions were clear. The bombs will explode simultaneously instead of when the train crosses specific markers if the train stops before arrival, is diverted or evacuated. The massive attacks on Istanbul’s Sultanahmet district, where most of the tourists flock, could be of catastrophic proportion. This will worsen the already inflammatory political tension over there,” he added with anger.
***
Drake assumed that as long as she carried whatever they had planted on her,
no matter how small, she made up a convenient mobile detonator that could ignite at will multiple explosions wherever she went as long as Rachid kept track of her; all he needed to do was to know where she was heading and plan his attacks accordingly. So, even if he sent her home, his organization would track her and follow her wherever she went and detonate a series of terrorist attacks. Worse, there was nothing he could do about it until he got his hands on this nanotechnology. He owed it to Jeff, who was able to help him figure out what type of device they used. Indeed, after all the searches and scans which had come up with nothing, his partner had concluded that Rachid must be smuggling a piece of equipment that was too small to be noticeable like a microchip or something similar.
"We’re not one hundred percent positive, but based on this AlQueda faction’s previous activities, it most likely contains codes used to activate detonators. The International Security Division of the FBI believes they may have perfected a microchip capable of working as a two ways receiver. Although they can’t prove it, they believed he had his hands in the 2016 Belgium train station bombing,” said Jeff.
With every hour that passed, more people could get injured or die at the hand of this tyrant. And now, to complicate matters, other terrorist factions were likely after Mara, hoping to retrieve the microchip to use it for their own purpose. What a nightmare.
With her current itinerary they would have plenty of opportunities to run attacks on every city and village she crossed until they reached Istanbul, and that was without forgetting that VIP gala she had mentioned. His guess was that this high-profile event will attract hordes of people including celebrities, perhaps a few dignitaries. For sure, the man and his team wouldn’t miss the occasion to make additional damage there, he thought with a grim sigh.
From his point of view, Rachid had hit the jackpot using Mara Ellington to organize his attacks. Even if he had not yet figured out how she could be useful to him, one thing was getting clear. Rachid would soon figure out that she could be used as a facilator to his explosions and he would not miss the opportunity of eventually using this air traffic controller to create airplane crashes. He could blackmail her and use her position at the airport to force her to do his deeds. Who needs to highjack airplanes when one can have an ATC “accidentally” mislead airspace traffic? This woman might create the worst airline catastrophe in the history of aviation if they used that bloody invisible device in John F. Kennedy Control Tower.
***
I could never be able, like him, to keep an aloof attitude if I knew there was so much in stake. With hundreds of innocent people who could be hurt or die, he still remained practical despite all the obstacles he faced. Had he become immunized against the whole human factor at the core of these tragedies because it enabled him to make the best decisions?
An unnamed frantic agitation grew inside me. The kind that grips you when you feel cornered with nowhere to escape. I tried to reign in my temper and uneasiness, which at the moment mixed into a cocktail of despair and uselessness. There was nothing I could have said to change the fact that willing or not, I was a walking plague, triggering explosions wherever I went, but still, with some sick twist of fate, allowed me to survive each of them.
I felt trapped within an impossible situation. I spend my life daily ensuring the safety of over ten thousand passengers traveling in my airspace, and to think I am now stuck with the possibility o
f creating a trail of death is beyond me. Was I doomed to destroy everyone I loved?
No matter how many times I tried to reason with myself, I still felt responsible for Josie’s death because I drove that night. I didn’t even need to take a vehicle now because I was a walking killer. However, I had no choice but to focus on the fact that Drake was right now my best and only chance to get me through this.
I was stuck in a virtual psychological thriller, which at the moment was no joy ride. Trapped in an invisible prison would be more apt. Going forward with this trip made little sense anymore while, by the same token, I couldn’t turn back because I may be a threat to national security. To make matters worse, I could jeopardize the life and wellbeing of my sister if I didn’t cooperate. No matter how I looked at it, the whole situation would end in tragedy.
Upon seeing my face, he reached for my nearest hand. I had not noticed that I was gripping the armrest to the point of turning my knuckles white. He ran his finger over mine with a light touch.
What was the matter with these people? Had they lost all common sense? When I pressed Steinfield later, about the evacuation, he admitted requesting it for every train station, at least until we arrived at our final destination. Unfortunately, he was met with resistance. Romania, Bulgaria and Turkey did not consider the threats as immediate because they did not specify in which country the explosions would be. In their opinion, the explosion in Verona and the devices found in Venice and Budapest did not constitute enough reason to paralyze over eight hundred miles of railways routes and train stations to Istanbul for the next 24 hours. It was apparently up to each country to decide which actions to take related to these threats. It was a question of national risk versus politics and economic interests.
If we were in the states, I was sure the Federation of Aviation Administration would never have allowed this. As a matter of fact… I didn’t want to think how this situation would affect my career. My top level status as an air traffic controller, when they learned about my tribulations with the Venetian authority, could be jeopardized. This job was my life, and any hint of a stain on my reputation could affect my future, not only at John F. Kennedy but any airport in the US.
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