“Hold this.” Chris handed the Rabbi the lead rope.
“Really?”
“There’s no crossties.” Chris returned his attention to the stall, walked back inside, and toed the hay that had been disturbed, revealing a layer of screenings, standard subfloor. He had bedded more stalls than he could count, and he recognized new shavings by their light gray color. They hadn’t been here more than a day.
“Chris, what do I do with this thing?”
“Ride him or put him in another stall.”
“He’s looking at me.”
“Maybe he thinks you’re cute.”
“He’s scary.”
“Put him away.”
The Rabbi hustled the horse into the neighboring stall, and Chris dug the toe of his loafer into the shavings until he got to the floor, which was plywood. No stall that he knew of had plywood in the bottom. It should have been a rubber mat or dirt.
“You need to see this,” Chris said, starting to dig. He cleared the hay, screenings, and manure to expose a plywood door locked with a padlock.
“Oh, whoa,” the Rabbi said, over his shoulder.
“Can I get a pair of bolt cutters?”
“It could be booby-trapped.”
“I doubt it. They were not expecting anybody to be here.” Chris yanked at the padlock, then stood up and kicked it, but it wouldn’t come off. It was new and shiny, unlike everything else on this farm. He ran his finger along the edges of the door. “They didn’t just make this. It’s been here awhile. Only the padlock is new.”
“Be right back.” The Rabbi took off, returning quickly with bolt cutters and some ATF, FBI, JTTF, and uniformed locals, who gathered in the aisle outside the stall.
Chris felt his heart pound as he cut the padlock, removed it, and pulled the latch to open the door. It looked like the entrance to an underground bunker of some sort, but it was too dark to see anything.
“Here’s a flashlight,” the Rabbi said, handing him a small one from a uniformed cop.
He shined it inside the hole.
Chapter Fifty-three
“Courtney!” Chris shouted, when the jittery cone of light found her bound and gagged on the floor, her body facing him. Blood clotted her hairline, and dirt streaked her lovely face. Her eyes closed above a red bandanna covering her mouth. They opened, squinting in the sudden light, and she began to make whimpering noises.
“It’s the sister?” the Rabbi asked, urgent. “Is she alive?”
“Yes, Courtney Wheeler, alive.” Chris stuck his head in the hole and shined the flashlight around. Evan wasn’t there. The bunker contained a plastic table cluttered with bomb-making equipment—a leftover pile of white ammonium nitrate fertilizer in crystalline form, a soldering iron, wiring, wire cutters, pliers, and other tools—plus ashtrays, an old CD player, and empty soda cans. There were two folding chairs, one knocked over. The bottom floor was earth, about six feet or so away.
“Courtney, it’s Chris, I’ll be right there!”
Courtney responded with frantic sounds, writhing, and Chris jumped down through the hole, landed hard, and rushed to her side. Tears came to Courtney’s eyes, and she tried to get up, making whimpering noises as he elevated her upper body, undid the bandanna over her mouth, and dug out a sock that had been cruelly stuffed inside it. Instantly she began to cough, a hoarse hacking that wracked her chest.
“Chris … Chris…” Courtney tried to talk between coughs. “Thank God … somebody came … they put me here … to die … my own brothers…”
“Where’s Evan?” Chris helped her sit up, then scrambled to untie her hands from behind her back, putting the flashlight between his teeth.
“They took him … they made him go … oh, Chris … Chris … it’s all my fault … I’m so sorry…”
“Your brothers took Evan? Where? When?” Chris untied the rope around her shins, bound on top of her jeans. She only had one shoe.
“To … Philly … the courthouse … don’t know when … they’re going … to blow it up…”
“Rabbi, did you hear that?” Chris shouted out the open lid, taking the flashlight out of his mouth.
“Got it!” the Rabbi called back. “Get her underneath the door. We’ll hoist her up.”
“Courtney, can you stand? Hold on to me.” Chris took her arm, looped it around his neck, and supported her as she struggled to her feet.
“Chris, you don’t know what … they’ve done … they killed Doug.” Courtney started to cry, but Chris couldn’t let her lose it now.
“Courtney, keep it together. We have to get you out of here. Let me lift you, then reach up, okay?” Chris positioned them under the door, hoisted her up, and lifted her upward.
“I can’t, I can’t…”
“Climb on my shoulders, you can do it.”
“Help me!” Courtney struggled to get her legs onto Chris’s shoulders, and in the next moment, she was pulled up through the trapdoor into the stall. He grabbed a chair, stood on it, and boosted himself out of the hole. The Rabbi helped a weepy Courtney to a sitting position against the wall, as he identified himself and Mirandized her. Behind him, ATF, FBI, and JTTF agents started videotaping her with their phones. Somebody handed Courtney a bottle of water, which she drank thirstily while Chris went to her side, kneeling.
“Courtney.” Chris knelt at her side. “You’re okay, you’re gonna be fine. We need you to help us now.”
“Chris, I don’t … understand.” Courtney’s eyes brimmed with tears as she took in the crowd. “Who are … all these people? What are you doing here?”
“I’m an ATF Special Agent and I was working undercover at the school. My real name is Curt Abbott. I have to stop your brothers and find Evan. You’re sure they’re going to blow up the federal courthouse in Philly?”
“Yes, but … Chris? Curt?” Courtney’s bloodshot eyes flared with disbelief. “Really, is this you? You’re not … a teacher?”
“It’s true but we don’t have time to talk about it. When did they leave? How long have you been down there?”
“I don’t know … what time is it now? What day is it?”
“It’s almost six in the morning, Monday morning. You’ve been there since when?”
“Since midnight last night.” Courtney began to cry, her chest heaving with hoarse sobs. “I didn’t know they were going to do it, I swear … I thought they were going to blow up the well pads, but not when anybody was around … that was what we all said … that Frazer was going to pay for what they did to my father”—Courtney’s words ran together in one anguished stream—“we were never going to kill anybody … that’s what I told Evan … he went along with it because of me, because of his dad … I asked him to do it, he did it … he helped steal the fertilizer to blow up the pads, but not a courthouse … not with people in it…”
“I understand,” Chris said, glancing at the Rabbi, who looked grim.
“They killed Doug … right in front of me, they shot him … they had a gun and I didn’t even know they had … a silencer on it.” Courtney sobbed, her skin mottled. Tears streamed down her face.
“Where is the bomb? Is it in the dually, the black dually?”
“Yes … Evan came to my house and Doug wasn’t supposed to be there … he was supposed to be away for the weekend … but he came home early.”
“Then what happened?”
“Jimmy shot him … and I got hysterical … but they said they would kill me and Evan if I screamed … I never saw them like that … they’ve gone crazy, they’ve lost their minds.”
“So then they put you in the dually?”
“Yes, we were in the dually … and they had a gun to Evan’s head, and in the back of the dually was the fertilizer … the bomb we were going to use to blow up the well pads, but I was crying … and they said ‘change of plans, that’s not what’s going on.’” Courtney dissolved into tears, breaking down completely, her head drooping. “Nobody was supposed to die … nobody was supposed to get
killed, ever … I think they killed Abe, too … They said they didn’t, but I think they did.”
“Why did they kill Abe, Courtney?”
“It’s my fault, it’s all my fault … he found out about me and Evan, he saw me texting Evan and he was so … upset with me, so disappointed … and I was so stupid, I told my brothers that Abe knew … but I think they killed him.”
“How are they going to bomb the courthouse? They can’t all be in the same van.”
“Jimmy has a pickup … it’s black … and he’s going to follow the dually to Philly. Evan’s going to drive the dually to the courthouse … and they’re going to blow it up…”
“Does Evan know that?”
“No, they told him that they would kill his parents…” Courtney hiccupped sob after sob, “… if he didn’t go with them … they told him that they’d get him out … before they blew the dually up … but that’s not what’s going to happen … they have a remote control … they’re going to blow him up in the dually.”
“Courtney, hang in.” Chris touched her shoulder, and she looked up at him.
“Chris, don’t let them hurt Evan … He did it for me … I got him into this … I know it was wrong to have the affair but … he gave me so much attention … and I felt young and pretty again … Doug was never home … and now, he’s dead … all because of me…”
“Okay, hang in.” Chris rose, having all the information he needed and not a moment to spare. “Rabbi, I gotta go, authorization or no.”
“Agree. Your helo’s waiting.” The Rabbi left the stall with Chris, and they hurried down the aisle, clogged with law-enforcement personnel, including ATF. The Rabbi directed them on the fly. “Mark, get Ms. Wheeler some medical attention and take her into custody. Don’t move her from the farmhouse until you hear from me. Don’t let anybody talk to her unless they’re authorized by me or Alek. Jenny, call Alek and brief him. We’re supposed to run everything through JTTF.”
Chris fell into step beside him. “And somebody, please feed and water the horse.”
“I did already.” The Rabbi winked. “He’s my buddy now.”
“Nice.” Chris glanced at the sky as they left the barn, which was warming to a soft rosy blue, an unwelcome sight. Time was running out.
Meanwhile, the Shank compound had become a scene of controlled pandemonium, since word had spread the target had been confirmed. JTTF and FBI personnel met in groups, raced back and forth, clustered around laptops, and talked on phones or walkie-talkies. Police cruisers and black SUVs appeared out of nowhere, parking on the overgrown pasture, and three other helos sat waiting on the field with his.
Chris asked, on the run, “So what happens now? Do they cut off I-95? I-76? Inform the public, now that we have confirmation?”
“I don’t know. Not our call.” The Rabbi shook his head. “JTTF makes all the decisions. They liaise with Homeland Security, the FBI, the Philly police, the Pentagon, and the White House.” They hustled toward his helo, and Chris felt the gravity of the situation. “I’m thinking of those tourist attractions across from the courthouse, like the Liberty Bell Pavilion. School field trips go there from all over. Plus the Federal Reserve Bank, the Bourse, the African-American History Museum, WHYY—”
“They have to tell the public.” Chris spotted his pilot, Tony, running toward the helo.
“They don’t want to induce panic. It’s a major American city, 1.5 million people. If you go public, the residents, businesses, employees, and tourists freak out. It would be mayhem, dangerous for them and us.” The Rabbi shook his head. “And the Shanks might switch targets. The courthouse is on the other side of the Ben Franklin Bridge to Jersey. They could decide to blow up the bridge or hop on it to New York. They could stop at any exit, hide out, wait, steal cars—”
“They’d terrorize the entire Eastern Seaboard. Paralyze business.” Chris watched Tony climb into the helo, and in the next moment, the rotors whirred into life. “Looks like I’m good to go.”
“Okay.” The Rabbi hugged Chris impulsively. “Good luck, son.”
“Thanks,” Chris said, touched. He raced for the helo.
Chapter Fifty-four
The helo flew toward Philadelphia, and Chris kept an eye on the horizon like a stopwatch. The sky was cruelly clear, and the rising sun streaked it in rosy swaths. It promised a beautiful day that could end in a horrific loss of life. Chris would never forget 9/11, which was one of the loveliest mornings of September until it became the most tragic.
Chris scanned the terrain below as the helo flew south down Route 81. The Shanks had an overwhelming head start, and he assumed they were already in the city. Nevertheless, he kept his head down and his eye on the traffic, looking for the black pickup or the dually. As they flew southward, Route 81 widened and grew more congested with cars, trucks, tractor trailers, school buses, and vans. Chris ran possibilities in his mind for the next step, trying to formulate a Plan A and Plan B.
“Curt?” Tony’s voice was transmitted through the headset into his ear. “I have a phone call for you from Supervisor Alek Ivanov. I’m going to patch him in. You’ll hear his voice next in your headset.”
Terrific. “Thanks.” Chris heard a crackling sound, then a click.
“Curt? Are you in the air?”
“Yes, headed toward Philly. What’s going on? Are they going to close the courthouse? Are they going to inform the public?”
“No decision yet. There are a lot of moving parts. JTTF will liaise with the other agencies and the city, and those decisions will be in their very capable hands.”
“Okay.” Chris thought Alek sounded unusually official and assumed that his boss was speaking for the benefit of others overhearing the conversation.
“Curt, you may not have been told that ATF is no longer primary in Operation Varsity Letter. JTTF is. JTTF didn’t authorize your deployment to the target zone. You’ve done a great job, Curt. I couldn’t have asked for more. But JTTF has its own people in the air, handpicked. Turn around and return to the Shank farmstead.”
“No.” Chris hadn’t come this far to quit. “JTTF doesn’t know how this may go down. Anything can happen. I may be needed. I’m the only one who knows Evan. I have his trust and his confidence—”
“Curt, Evan Kostis is a domestic terrorist, armed and dangerous, engaged in a conspiracy to blow up a courthouse and murder thousands of innocent people—”
“No, you’re wrong, he’s not a willing participant. They’re using him as a human shield. Courtney confirmed it to us, just now. Call the Rabbi, he’ll tell you. Evan is a hostage.” Chris felt fear tighten his chest. He could read between the lines. They were going to shoot to kill Evan. The boy was about to become collateral damage. If Evan didn’t get killed by the Shanks, he’d get killed by the feds.
“Curt, we’re talking about one person as against thousands.”
“No, it’s not that way. I would never sacrifice thousands of people for Evan, but I don’t think we have to sacrifice anyone. I want to stop the Shanks and get Evan out of there.” Chris had to sound reasonable or he would never convince Alek. “You already put the word out about the dually and the pickup. We’re going to start getting sightings. We’ll be able to locate them. They’ve got to be in the city or close by. When you start to get those sightings, we can coordinate our extraction of Evan—”
“There’s no extraction of Evan. That’s not JTTF’s plan. Their order is for you to come back.”
“But JTTF needs me. What if they have to defuse the bomb? I can do that. I’m a certified explosives specialist. You know that—”
“Again, not JTTF’s plan. Bomb squads are already headed to the target. Turn around and come back to the farmstead.” Alek’s tone turned angry, but controlled for the sake of the others listening.
“No, I can’t. I’m asking for one shot. I’m not gonna let you kill this kid. There’s no reason to. He’s a victim, not a perp.”
“Pilot, return to the farmstead.”
/> “No, don’t,” Chris told Tony, then said to the headset, “Alek, please, I promised Evan’s mother I’d bring him home and I want to try—”
“Pilot, turn around and return to farmstead.” Alek’s tone hardened like steel. “That’s an order.”
“Roger that,” Tony answered.
“Over and out,” Alek said, then there was a click on the headset.
Chris turned to Tony in appeal. “Please, don’t go back. They’re going to kill a kid for no reason, a seventeen-year-old boy. I can get him out of there. I’ve got to try. Let me try.”
Tony looked over, grim-faced. “I’m not going back. I heard you. We’re going to give it a shot.”
“Wait, what?” Chris didn’t get it.
“I don’t take orders from your boss, I’m a subcontractor. I’m a father, too. I’ll follow your lead.”
“Thanks.” Chris’s hopes soared. Evan had been given a stay of execution.
“I can switch channels and listen to the chatter from the other pilots. We’ll hear about the sightings as soon as they do. Nobody will know we’re in the sky until they see us.” Tony shot him a warning glance. “But if it goes south, I’m turning back. I’m not going to let you get us killed.”
“Fair enough,” Chris said, turning to the city.
Chapter Fifty-five
Chris spotted the cluster of Center City buildings he knew so well—City Hall topped by William Penn, the spiky ziggurat of Liberty Place, Commerce Center, and the Cira Center to the west, and to the east, Carpenter Hall, the U.S. Mint, and the Federal Detention Center. Straight ahead was the redbrick and smoked-glass tower that was the target, the James A. Byrne U.S. Courthouse and the William J. Green Federal Building.
Chris shuddered to think about the horrific loss of life if the Shanks succeeded, and the deaths would extend to people in the nearby office buildings, retail shops, restaurants, and tourist attractions clustered in the historic district of Philadelphia. It made him sick to his stomach. He wished the helo could move faster, but they were flying as fast as safely possible.