fence with the security personnel ahead. Even the guards were staring at the stage. He pushed around a happy group, clearly having started the celebration early, and saw two men at the edge of the perimeter, both scanning the crowd as if they were looking for a friend.
He studied them before continuing, looking for anything out of place. They wore jackets, which wasn’t unusual, but the bulges on their hips told a different story. Panic began to close in again. How had they tracked him so successfully? He backed up into the group and turned around, considering his options. Before he could decide, one of the drunks in the group pushed him, demanding he get out of the way. He bumped into another man, who pushed him back again. The scuffle was drawing attention he didn’t need, making his choice for him.
He fought his way clear and went back the way he had come, attempting to get out of the crowd and circle to the west just to get close to the perimeter. He felt sweat popping out all over his body, thinking about what he was going to do if he was seen. Should he simply run? Attempt to make it inside the perimeter? No. They would kill him. He had heard the gunfire and seen the rifles from earlier. The only thing worse than killing a few measly hundred Eastern Europeans with his device would be dying with it strapped to his back, unfired.
He pulled the remote detonator out of his pocket, holding it tightly in his hands. Breathing deeply, he skirted the crowd. He saw the bathroom he had used to hide. He saw the door open about fifteen meters away. He instantly recognized the person exiting. The man was looking away, but he would soon turn and see him. Bakr frantically searched but there was nowhere to run, no way out through the crowds. Swiveling back, he met the eyes of the devil. Time slowed. The man reached underneath his jacket, bringing something out. Bakr raised the detonator, whispering, “
I felt a shock of adrenaline fire to my soul. I was staring straight into the face of the terrorist. I began to draw the H&K UMP, seeing the terrorist raise his hands with the detonator I had seen in the hotel room.
I brought the weapon up to shoulder height, slowed my breathing, and drew a focused bead on the man’s head, squeezing the trigger. I saw a blossom of red appear between his eyes just as his finger frantically probed for the button a second time, and he toppled over backward, landing on the pack.
102
Jennifer had made the rental car switch at the river three blocks away when she heard an explosion, loud enough to vibrate her car. She saw a cloud of smoke rise up the street. Then she saw that it wasn’t smoke, but some sort of dust. It wasn’t rising, but hovering, gently floating about, segments slowly falling to earth, reminding her of videos she had seen after the towers fell on 9/11. She floored the vehicle, driving as fast as she could to get out of the area.
She rolled into the airport exceeding the speed limit by thirty kilometers an hour. She had passed what must have been every police car and fire engine in Sarajevo, all headed to the explosion. She slammed on the brakes and ran to the Bell 427.
“The terrorist blew up the market. The WMD is out!”
For the first time, she noticed that the rotors were turning and the pilots were going through preflight. One said, “We know. The embassy’s already been alerted and is requesting military support. We’re getting out of here.”
“What? You’re leaving? What about the guys at the market?”
“We can’t do anything about that. Our higher knows the situation. It’s in their hands now. Our orders are to get the hell out of here.”
“Are you serious? What about Pike and Knuckles? You can’t just leave.”
The pilot stopped what he was doing and fixed her with an icy stare.
“Ma’am, Knuckles was a teammate. More than that, he was my friend. I understand the situation. There’s nothing I can do about it. If anyone on the team is alive, they know what they need to do. We have a procedure for this type of contingency. My mission is to protect what I can at this point. I’m sorry, but that’s it.”
He turned back to his preflight. Jennifer stood in shock, unsure of what to do. She remembered the man in her trunk.
“Wait. I have the guy I was supposed to get. What about him?”
The pilot stopped. He turned to his partner and said something. Both exited the helicopter. One took the keys from Jennifer, the other drew a pistol and aimed it at the trunk. Swinging it open, they found it empty. The pilot gave the keys back to Jennifer without saying a word. He had finished preflight and was preparing to crank up the rotors for good, when he exited one more time.
“Look, I’m not sure what your whole story is or who you belong to, but let me give you some advice: I’d get on the first plane out of here. I’m sorry we can’t take you. I would if I could.”
Still trying to process what was occurring, Jennifer simply nodded her head. She stood still until she was driven back by the rotor wash of the helicopter. She saw it take off, and continued to watch it until it was a speck in the sky. She walked in a circle, unsure of what to do next. On the far side of the airport, she could see a beehive of activity around the dignitaries’ planes.
She went into the terminal and bought a ticket on a Bosnian airline headed to Frankfurt, Germany. It was due to leave in four hours. She went back to the rental car and tried to drive back into the city. She saw the lights flashing a mile out. She got within a half of a mile of the downtown before being stopped at a police checkpoint. The man spoke little English. All he could say was, “Go, Go. Poison.” She turned around and headed back the way she had come.
She located the only hospital in the city and went to it. The place was a madhouse, with people in white running back and forth, and the wounded being brought in. She found someone who spoke English and asked about Americans. He told her he had not seen any Americans at all.
She drove back to the airport. She didn’t feel grief. She didn’t feel anything except exhaustion, both physically and emotionally. The flight to Frankfurt was a blur. While she waited for her connecting flight, the event began to sink in.
“Ma’am, are you all right? Can I help you?”
Because Pike had drilled it into her over the last four days, her first thought was she was making a scene.
“Yeah,” she said, “I’m fine.”
The agent looked as if he wasn’t convinced but left her alone.
Thirty minutes later, he came back.
“Ma’am, are you on this flight?”
For the first time it registered that everyone had left the gateway.
“Yes. Sorry. I wasn’t paying attention.”
“No problem, but we’re about to close the door. Are you sure you’re okay? Is there anything I can do for you?”
She landed at Dulles International Airport completely spent. She had no idea what she was going to do next.
