Chapter 22
Fisher left the interrogation room as quickly as he could, striding down the caged hallway to the small observation area. Identity confirmed, he was searched again before being allowed out.
Fisher checked his cigarette pack when the guard handed it back to him with his weapons: You just never knew about the ethics of people connected with the prison system.
“It’s going to be tonight,” said Fisher as he counted.
“What?”
“It’ll be at the basketball game. The championship.”
“What is?”
“Whatever they’re planning.”
“How do you know they’re planning anything?”
“Because they know less about college basketball than you do.” His cigarettes counted, Fisher put one in his mouth and lit up. “Call off the game.”
“Oh, yeah, right. You’re talking about the NCAA championships here, Andy. New York worked for years to get this, to bring them to the Garden. You’re out of your mind.”
“Faud left the bomb. That tells us two things: One, he’s not back in Yemen; two, time is running out. I thought it was an early-warning system, but I’m wrong: It’s a diversion.” Fisher took a long drag on the cigarette, striding out to the gangplank that led back to land. It was a gorgeous New York day — sun high in the sky, the odor of dead fish on the wind — but he didn’t stop to notice.
“We got their sarin,” protested Macklin.
“Maybe we didn’t get it all. I’m telling you, you have to stop that game.”
“The security tonight is going to be crazy,” said Macklin. “Half of New York will be locked down. They’ll never get close.”
“The E-bomb,” said Fisher.
“They have it?”
“I don’t know.”
Fisher thought about that as they reached the car. “We have to get the police to stop and search every flower truck in Manhattan. Anything that looks like the ones taken from Pete’s Florist.”
“Man, you’re reaching.”
“I have a thing for roses,” said Fisher, sliding into the car and taking out his sat phone.
Howe was just thinking of leaving the office early when his secretary buzzed him to say he had a call.
“I think I’ll deal with it tomorrow,” he told her.
“It’s somebody named Andy Fisher,” said the secretary. “He said it was important.”
Howe punched the button on his phone.
“I figured it out,” Fisher said. “They’re going to set the E-bomb off in New York tonight.”
“What?”
“Somewhere around eight o’clock. Maybe a little after. By my watch that’s four hours. I have this theory, but it doesn’t have a lot of proof.”
“Share it,” said Howe.
“The Korean is pissed about us beating the crap out of him, so he hooks up with these crazies here. I don’t know whether he sells them a bomb or is going to set it off himself, but it’s hooked into this terrorist cell of assholes with sarin gas. Maybe they got the sarin from him, too, I don’t know.”
“How do you know there’s an E-bomb?” asked Howe.
“Because one of my suspects, the one I can’t find, has night-vision goggles and an injector to ward off the effects of sarin gas. The only thing I don’t have totally worked out is how the bomb goes off, because the tech people I talked to say it’s got to explode in the air. Or that’s the best thing or something; I forget the details.”
“The UAV?”
“Yeah, that’s what I was thinking.”
Howe stood up from his seat. You could use the rocket pack to launch the UAV like a missile. Once launched, the engines would take over.
“You sure about all of this?” Howe asked Fisher.
“Of course not. Listen, we have to keep air traffic away from New York, and we have to look for a UAV. I have to talk to a million people, and most of them think I’m a pain in the ass, so it’s going to take a while.”
“Have you talked to the Air National Guard?”
“My task force guy will, but I don’t know how serious they’re going to take him. I don’t even take him seriously,” said Fisher. “But you’ve got a ton of pull, right?”
“I’ll do what I can,” said Howe.
“I’m counting on that,” said Fisher.
Howe pressed the button to talk to his secretary. “I need to get ahold of the unit responsible for air traffic over New York,” he told her. “I want to talk to the commander personally, right away. And then I need to have one of our planes at Andrews readied for a flight: Iron Hawk. You can get me the numbers I need, right?”
“Yes, sir, but—”
“But?”
“It’s almost five.”
“We’ll pay you overtime,” snapped Howe.
“I meant you better let me call over to Andrews right away,” said the secretary. “Because otherwise the ground people may go home before you get to them.”
Part Six. The Final Four
Chapter 1
Madison Square Garden was neither near Madison Avenue nor appreciably square, and the last time anything approaching a garden had been on the spot, the local Indians were unloading swampland on the Dutch.
Which made it the quintessential New York landmark, if not the essence of New York itself.
“You’re being kind of hard on the place, Andy,” said Macklin as they walked across Eighth Avenue. Ordinarily that would have been suicidal, but the area had been blocked off for the game. Traffic snarled through the rest of the city, but the streets around Madison Square Garden were a veritable island of peace and tranquillity.
Except, of course, for the troop trucks, Humvees, Stinger antiaircraft missile batteries, two tanks, and upward of five thousand National Guardsmen, soldiers, and police officers.
“You’d think they’d’ve let a pretzel guy inside the barricades,” said Fisher.
“Well, well, Cassandra showed up in person,” said a voice from behind a phalanx of approaching soldiers.
“Kowalski, it’s about time you got here,” said Fisher. “Did you find the UAV yet?”
“I have half the damn Air Force flying overhead, Fisher. You sure as hell better be right.”
“Only half, Kowalski? I thought you had pull.”
“Yeah, yeah, wiseass. Real funny. How are they getting the gas into the place, anyway? Did you think about that?”
“I thought about it, but I couldn’t figure it out,” admitted Fisher.
“We have the ventilation system guarded,” said Macklin. “And the backup generators. Everything’s been checked and rechecked. Power goes off, we’ll have it back on in a jiff.”
“Unless they blow up the bomb overhead, right?” said Fisher.
