Chapter 23
Chapter Twenty-Three
Oh, God! The memories came flooding back starting with the rear-end collision.
She'd pulled over to the side so she wouldn't block traffic.
She'd gotten out of her car. Then a van had pulled up next to her.
The side door had opened. A man had grabbed her and pulled her inside.
It had happened so quickly. He'd had black hair and black eyes. Caleb! It had to have been him.
She'd tried to fight, but he'd jabbed a needle into her arm, and the world had faded away.
Now reality was back, and panic ran through her as she realized that someone had put a suicide vest on her, a bomb that was going to explode in…thirty-four minutes, fifteen seconds.
Her heart almost jumped out of her chest. She told herself to stay calm. It was possible that any wild movement could also set off the bomb.
She looked around, thinking she was in some sort of warehouse.
There were pallets of boxes along one wall, and a table along another.
The table was covered with wires and metals and other bomb-making materials.
The light was dim and the only windows were at least twelve feet off the ground.
She had to find a way out of this, but how?
She was a human bomb. She couldn't fight anyone. She'd blow herself up.
A door suddenly opened, and three men came into the room.
The man who'd grabbed her in the van was first, a similar-looking man right behind him, but not as tall, not as dark.
But it was the third man that made her breath catch in her chest. She recognized him from the photos in Max's apartment and the one she'd seen on Max's phone when he'd learned that Ali Qadir was in New York City.
Caleb, and, who she could only guess was his brother, Malik, moved to the side as Qadir strode forward, clearly the boss.
For a world-renowned terrorist, he wasn't that big or that scary looking.
He was average height, with dark hair going gray at the temples, and tanned, weathered skin that suggested he spent a lot of time outside in harsh environments.
He was dressed like an American businessman in dark slacks, a gray sweater, and a winter coat.
But the intelligence and cruelty in his gaze did not match his sophisticated look.
"Ah, you're awake," he said with a slight accent. "Special Agent Kara Reid. You've become quite annoying to our plans."
"To blow up the city?" she challenged, lifting her chin as she gave him a defiant look. "The FBI is going to stop you."
"I don't think so," he said with an evil smile. "But I like your fire. It's…amusing how so many of you think you can beat me, and yet you never do."
"The day isn't over yet."
"No, and it will be a glorious day. You'll be a martyr, Agent Reid.
You'll die for something, or at least that's what they'll say about you.
Your name will be in the paper. The people in New York who aren't grieving the loss of their loved ones will read about you and say how brave you must have been.
Or perhaps they'll believe I turned you, that you got into the suicide vest willingly, that you had turned your back on America, that you knew this country to be the biggest war criminal of all. "
His voice and words had an educated cadence. "Where did you grow up?" she asked.
"You mean after my family was completely shattered by an American bomb at a family wedding? My sister was getting married that day. My parents were standing right next to her when the bomb dropped. I was unfortunately not with them."
"Sounds like you were fortunately not unfortunate."
"I would have preferred to die with them than live without them. But that wasn't my choice. I was left alive so that one day I could get justice. And some of that justice will come today."
"Killing innocent people isn't justice, and no one would ever believe I became a terrorist. I had the same experience as you. My father was killed on 9/11."
Unexpected surprise ran through his gaze, and she enjoyed being able to rattle him with information he didn't have.
She needed to keep him talking, give someone a chance to find her.
When she didn't show up at the task force meeting, surely her team would notice.
And Max would try to find her at some point.
They'd be able to trace the car she was driving.
She just had to hang on for as long as she could.
But a quick glance down at her vest showed the danger of that plan.
The time was ticking away: Thirty minutes, twelve seconds.
Was that really all she had left of her life?
"Is this the plan?" she asked. "I die in this warehouse alone. What's the drama in that?"
"You're just the warm-up. The main act will be glorious and visible for miles. It will be much bigger than 9/11. No one will ever forget it. At least, those who are alive and still able to remember."
Her stomach flipped over. He could be talking about so many different sites. But it didn't sound like he was speaking about the conference, more like something iconic…the Empire State Building, the Statue of Liberty, one of the bridges, maybe…
She turned to Caleb. "I heard he took over your plan. You had a nice deal going with David Hartford, lots of money, little effort, not a high body count, just enough to be satisfying. And now you've handed it all off. No credit will go to you, that's for sure."
Caleb stiffened with her words, and while he didn't say anything, she could see that her words had struck a nerve.
"Maybe it was your brother's idea to take over and hand it all off to his friend. What do they even need you for anymore? You're going to end up just like all the people you killed."
"Shut up," Caleb said.
Qadir sighed. "You are so easy, Caleb, so Americanized, so soft. Go. Now."
Caleb's jaw tightened. He looked at his brother, who refused to meet his eye, and then he turned and left.
Malik stepped up with a phone in hand. "Shall we do this?"
"Yes." Qadir moved toward her.
As he drew closer, she cringed, not sure what was coming next. And then the flashes blinded her as Malik shot several photos of her with Qadir in the background.
"Why do you need photos?" she asked.
"Proof of life, of course. I want Max Malone to see you in all your glory."
She drew a quick breath as Qadir's evil voice twisted around Max's name.
"He will come running to protect you," Qadir continued. "He should be able to find you in time, especially with this photo. I'm sure your team will help him trace the call." He tipped his head to Malik. "Is it sent?"
Malik nodded and set the phone down on the nearby table.
"Max isn't coming. He probably isn't even aware that I'm missing," she said.
"He knows, and he's frantic."
"How would you know that?"
"Because I have people everywhere. You and Max have been together this past week. I've seen photos of you together. He'll come to save you. He can't resist playing the hero."
She had both the happy and terrible feeling that he was right. But Qadir wasn't going to let Max rescue her. She was the bait in his trap. He wanted Max to come to him, and then he would kill them both.
Despair hit her hard. Tears blurred her vision, but she couldn't let them drop, couldn't let Qadir have the satisfaction of seeing her cry or hearing her beg for her life.
She hoped Max wouldn't get to her in time, that the bomb would go off before then, that he would be safe.
But even as that thought crossed her mind, she remembered that this wasn't the only bomb.
The sound of a gunshot outside made everyone jump.
Qadir spun toward the sound, his face darkening with anger as he swore, "Dammit! They're early."
Max, Tyler, and members of an FBI SWAT team moved fast, taking down the men outside the warehouse with deadly precision, but each shot made him fear more for Kara's life. The horrific photo had come in just seconds before they'd launched their attack, and seeing her in the suicide vest…
He shook that thought away as they cleared the loading dock and headed into the warehouse. He didn't know how many more were inside, but it seemed a little too quiet. The warehouse was vast and dimly lit, filled with shipping containers and machinery that created a maze of shadows and blind spots.
"I'll take the north corridor, you sweep south," he told Tyler as they broke apart, working in sync in surprising unison, with only one goal: save Kara's life.
He moved through the warehouse like a predator, every one of his senses focused on the hunt.
Another shot came from Tyler's direction, and his voice crackled through his earpiece. "Malik Azrani down."
He didn't respond as he heard footsteps. Someone moving fast, trying to escape.
That's when he saw him—a figure in dark clothing slipping through the shadows toward a rear exit door. He didn't hesitate, sprinting across the open floor, weaving between pallets and machinery, closing the distance.
Qadir spun around just as Max launched himself forward, tackling him to the concrete floor. They rolled, struggling for position, until Max pinned Qadir down, putting a gun to his throat.
"Where is she?" he demanded.
Qadir looked up at him with those cold, intelligent eyes and smiled through the blood on his split lip. "Hello, Max. Right on time."
"I asked you a question."
"She's close by. She's waiting for you to save her. I told her you would try. She's feisty and brave, just like the other one. But you know what happened to her."
His finger tightened on the trigger at Qadir's taunting words, but he couldn't pull it, couldn't kill him—not yet.
Instead, he pulled Qadir to his feet and cuffed his hands behind his back. "Move."
Qadir didn't resist. That bothered Max on a lot of levels, because he wanted to believe he had the upper hand, that this was almost over, but he didn't think it was.
He spoke into the radio. "I have Qadir. He's taking me to Kara."