CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
She stopped in the entryway and called, “Mr. Stevenson? I’m entering the restroom. I’m your driver. I’m unarmed, and I mean you no harm.”
“Okay,” Stevenson called back in a thready voice. “I’m here.”
Faith stepped into the restroom. Stevenson stood at the end of the room next to the hand dryer. The detonator, a small, laser-pointer-sized cylinder, was clutched tightly in his right hand.
He looked exactly as Faith expected. His eyes were wild and bloodshot, and his hair was unkempt and frizzy, more gray than brown though his last driver's license record indicated he was Faith's age.
He had facial hair just as unkempt and ragged as the hair on top of his head.
He was tall and had probably once been a robust man, but now he was almost emaciated.
His cheeks were sunken, his eyes hollow, and his clothing—a denim vest over a red t-shirt, and cargo pants—were faded, dirty, and tattered and hung loosely on wasted arms and legs.
His shoes had holes in the toes, and the left one was untied.
No wonder security had focused on him immediately.
He looked homeless and very, very crazy.
Hartford was nowhere to be seen.
“Hi,” Faith said, smiling. “Where’s Mr. Hartford?”
Stevenson didn’t answer the question. “You’re that FBI agent,” he said. “You’ve been looking for me. They sent you!”
His lips pulled back from his teeth. Faith lifted her hands and said quickly, “Yes, it’s me. I’m Faith Bold. They sent me because transporting you to safety is going to be difficult, and they needed an FBI agent to make sure we’re not pulled over or harassed by other law enforcement officers.”
His lips slowly closed. “Is that true?”
“It’s true,” Faith said. “The FBI outranks other law enforcement agencies. I can make them let us go. I can take you… Well, almost anywhere you want.” She smiled. “White House is off limits, I’m afraid.”
Stevenson returned a sickly grin instead of laughter, but it was a start. It was a step toward trust.
“Can you tell me where Mr. Hartford is?”
“No.”
Okay, that was a step away from trust.
“Robert… Can I call you Robert?”
“Sure. Whatever.”
“Okay. Robert, I can’t get you out of here unless I know that Mr. Hartford is alive. I also need to know where that bomb is.”
“I told you, I’m killing him today. The bomb is with him. He will die. Do you hear me? He will die!”
He lifted the hand holding the detonator, and Faith said, “Okay. Okay. All right. But I need to know that he’s alive right now. Can you call him, or—”
“We’re leaving,” Stevenson interrupted. “If you don’t believe the bomb is real, then push me and see what happens.”
He laughed that time, a nervous titter accompanied by a rolling of the eyes that Faith very much didn’t like. She didn’t like any of this. Without eyes on Hartford or the bomb, they couldn’t be sure he was still alive or that securing Stevenson would really allow them a chance to disarm the bomb.
But that was something they would have to figure out after they subdued him. The number one task was to get a hold of that detonator.
“All right,” Faith said. “You win. Let’s go.”
Stevenson hesitated. “How do I know you’re telling the truth? How do I know you’re not just lying to me so I’ll do what you want me to do?”
Faith gestured to herself. "No vest. No gun.
No taser. No pepper spray. Nothing. I came down here unarmed.
It's called a gesture of good Faith. I was hoping you'd make a gesture of good Faith and prove to us that Mr. Hartford is still alive, but like I said, you win.
Your thumb is on the detonator. You're in control. "
Stevenson relaxed a little. That was the key. Letting him believe he was in control.
“The bottom line is we need to make sure that innocent people don’t get hurt,” she continued. “We don’t want a repeat of the Baltimore incident, do we?”
Stevenson’s lips pulled back and he released a cry that sounded like a muffled scream. “That wasn’t my fault! I told them!”
“I know,” Faith said, kicking herself for bringing that up. “I know. You’re right. You told them, and they didn’t listen. They should have listened.”
He calmed again. “They should have. But they’re incompetent.”
“Yes,” Faith agreed. “They are. And they’re cowards.”
Her honesty must have come through. Stevenson calmed further and lowered his hand, still holding the detonator button down. “He has to die,” he said. “You understand that, right? The Great Incompetent has to die.”
The conversational tone of his voice, temporarily free of the insanity he’d shown up until now, disturbed Faith.
She’d met many insane people, and it always surprised her how that insanity seemed to come and go as needed.
Only in Steven’s case, his wild eyes, ragged clothing, and unkempt hair broadcasted who he was even if his tone was ordinary.
Faith gestured for him to leave the restroom. “Let’s just get you out of here. We’ll worry about the rest later.”
Stevenson frowned. “He has to die.”
Faith lifted her hands in a whaddya want me to say gesture. “Look, Robert, I’m here to drive you out of here, okay? It doesn’t matter if I agree or not. You’re the one holding the detonator.”
Robert nodded. He started to shuffle toward her. “I just wish people understood, you know? Everyone blamed me. They said it was my fault the machines didn’t work, but I told them. And they knew. They just wanted people to think it was me.”
Faith planted her hands on her hips and nodded sympathetically, trying not to let him see her rising tension as he approached.
He came closer, and his scent struck her like a high wind, the sour smell of sweat and dirt mixed with the heady sweetness of gasoline and the almost bread-like smell of plastic explosive.
He pushed past her, sniffling and mumbling, “Excuse me.”
She stepped aside. He walked ahead. Now or never.
She moved, grabbing his right hand firmly with her right and his waist with her left.
She stepped in front of him and tripped his right foot, leaving his left planted so she could push him out of the bathroom.
He stumbled and struggled, screeching and clawing at her face with his left hand.
She felt the sting as his nails bit into her face, but she didn’t let go of his right hand.
Jessica grabbed his left hand and pulled it away. He shrieked, “No! No! You assholes! You liars!”
The two agents struggled to bring him down.
He fought back ferociously. It wasn’t until Turk sank his teeth into Stevenson’s calf and pulled him down that he finally went to the ground.
Faith followed him down, holding desperately.
Stevenson shrieked again and tried to yank his hand free so he could release the detonator, but Faith didn’t let go.
She planted a knee into his shoulder blades and pulled his arm straight.
Despite his wasted appearance, he was still stronger than her.
It took every ounce of strength she had with both arms to pull his right arm out.
Jessica twisted her hips and held his left arm back behind his body.
Faith did the same with the right, moving carefully so her fingers didn’t slip off of his thumb.
Just before she pinned him, he cried out again and yanked his arm.
His thumb slipped free, and Faith cursed and grabbed it with her left hand.
She twisted her body a full three-sixty, bringing the arm with her until it was bent almost to the point of breaking.
She held it there and pressed her right hand over her left, both thumbs pressing down on his.
“You liar!” Stevenson sobbed. “You fucking liar!”
“It’s over,” Faith said. “Tell us where the bomb is.”
“Go to hell!”
Faith twisted his arm. He grimaced and shouted, "Break it, bitch! Fine! Whatever! I told you, the Great Incompetent will die today!”
Faith looked at Jessica. Her partner’s face was drawn and bloodless.
Faith looked at Stevenson. “Listen. There are innocent people in this terminal. There are innocent people who will die if you don’t—”
“Let them! Fucking let them! Just let me kill that asshole!”
Faith sighed. The negotiator was right. Stevenson was gone. Whatever sanity had allowed him to create the carefully constructed scenes of the previous crimes had disappeared. He was nothing more than his rage now.
“Sergeant,” she called. “Did you bring bomb detection dogs?”
The EOD sergeant, face ashen, replied, “No. We thought we knew where the bomb was, so we evacuated the TSA dogs. We didn’t think we needed to bring our own.”
Incompetent is right, she thought irritably.
But that was just the stress talking. “What’s your name?” she asked.
The sergeant blinked. “I’m Larry, uh, Burkman. Larry Burkman.”
“Okay, Sergeant Burkman. Take Turk. He’s got a good nose. He’ll help you find the bomb.”
“Are you sure?” Jessica asked.
Turk barked in answer and trotted to the EOD sergeant.
“Go,” Faith repeated. “We’ll hold him here.”
Stevenson shrieked and yanked his arm again. Faith tensed and struggled but still held him. “Sometime today would be nice, Sergeant.”
“Right. Sorry. Uh… Come, Turk.”
Turk trotted off, nose to the ground, leading the EOD team away from the two agents and their prisoner.
Faith met Jessica’s eyes again and resisted another attempt by Stevenson to release the detonator button.
Her heart thudded in her chest, and she tried to smile only to give up on it a second later.
“I think Hozier might have been right about you,” Jessica remarked.
Faith laughed. “Hey, at least you have a story to tell, right?”
Jessica started to laugh too, but stopped when Stevenson bucked his hips and tried to throw them off. “You’re all gonna die,” he growled. “All of you. You’re going to freaking die, and I’m going to laugh!”
“How are you going to do that?” Faith asked. “You’ll be dead too.”
His brow furrowed. Then his lips pulled back from his teeth. Faith braced herself, and sure enough, he tried again. She held onto him.
For now. Her arms were already complaining about the strain, and her lower back was growing tight.
Judging by appearance, she should have far more stamina than Stevenson, but he didn’t have to strain constantly the way she did, and his physical exhaustion was no doubt masked somewhat by the energy his insanity gifted him.
Turk rounded a corner ahead, the EOD team following him. Faith took a deep breath and shared another look with Jessica. She had placed her trust in Turk before, and he’d never let her down. She knew he wouldn’t disappoint this time either.
She just had to hold on a little longer. Stevenson bucked violently, and she cursed softly as she nearly lost her hold of his hand.
Just a little longer.