Naomi squeezed the trigger once, saw she had missed, and squeezed it again. Crane stopped dead in her tracks, her head snapping back. As the gun slipped out of her grasp, she lifted a hand to her face, pressing it hard against the hole in her cheek. Her eyes opened wide, and she let out a choked cry. Then her gaze went blank and she dropped to the floor, almost as if the life had been pulled right out of her body.
At that moment, Ryan Kealey entered the warehouse. Naomi snapped Foster’s gun toward him and barely managed to avoid squeezing the trigger again. From that point on, everything happened in slow motion. She saw him stare at her, his gaze drifting down to the gun in her hand. Then he looked from the gun to Samantha Crane. Finally, their eyes met, and from the stunned look on his face, Naomi knew she had just made a terrible mistake.
CHAPTER 54
NEW YORK CITY
In the small parking lot across from the warehouse, Will Vanderveen lifted his phone and dialed a number. Yasmin Raseen picked up on the first ring.
“Yes?”
“Where are you?” Vanderveen asked.
“I just left the hotel,” she replied. “The lobby is full of security officers. I think most of the delegates must still be inside.”
“Good. Does it look like they’re getting ready to leave?”
“No. I don’t see any cars outside the building. At least not the right kind of cars.”
Vanderveen knew what she meant. The members of the UIA scheduled to attend the General Assembly meeting in less than three hours would be protected not only by their own security teams, but also by sworn agents with the U.S. Diplomatic Security Service. The vehicles that would eventually come to collect the delegates would be Lincoln Town Cars or something similar, undoubtedly bearing diplomatic or government plates. The official vehicles would be easy to spot, especially since they’d be surrounded by NYPD escort cars and motorcycles.
“So we’re on track.”
“I believe so,” she replied. “Is it time for me to leave?”
“Yes.” Vanderveen shot a glance at his watch. “In fact, you need to move fast… Nazeri left nearly two minutes ago. You don’t have time to get to the subway, not from where you are now, so grab a taxi and try to get some buildings between you and the hotel. Otherwise, you’re still in the blast radius.”
“Understood.”
Her voice was unnaturally calm, given the gravity of the moment. Vanderveen smiled and shook his head, quietly impressed. “I’ll call you when it’s done.”
He hung up and leaned back in the driver’s seat of the Sable, studying the pedestrian gate on the other side of the street. Kealey and the woman had been inside the warehouse for less than a minute, and he couldn’t help but wonder what they had found. He hadn’t heard any gunfire, but he knew that didn’t mean a thing; the sound wouldn’t carry beyond the thick walls of the warehouse. It was a strange feeling, knowing that people were dying a few feet away and not being able to see them meet their end. A rather disappointing feeling.
He waited, wondering who would emerge in the end.
Inside the warehouse, Kealey moved forward instantly, dropping to one knee by Crane’s body. Naomi watched him move from a distance, aware of a rising dread, a building fear. After a moment that seemed to stretch on forever, he looked up and stared at her in disbelief. “Jesus, Naomi, what did you do?”
“Wait,” she heard herself say. The gun was still in her hands, held down by her waist, but she couldn’t feel it; she couldn’t feel anything. She was still trying to figure out what was happening here. “I don’t understand.”
“Why the hell did you shoot her?”
“What are you talking about? She had a gun, Ryan. I-”
“She wasn’t part of this.” Kealey checked Crane’s pulse but looked up a moment later, shaking his head. “She’s gone. Jesus Christ, you killed her.”
“No, I…” Naomi felt a terrible pain swelling up in her chest, rising into her throat. She shook her head in an effort to deny what was happening. “She’s with Foster. She was working with Vanderveen. You said it yourself. She was working against us.”
She stopped when she saw the grim look on his face. “It wasn’t Crane, Naomi. It was Foster. Just Foster, the whole time. Rudaki confirmed it less than an hour ago.”
“That’s not possible.” She could hear her voice rising, climbing into hysteria. There was no way she had just killed an innocent person. It had to be some kind of nightmare, some kind of horrible illusion. An out-of-body experience, maybe. There was just no other explanation. “That’s just not possible.”
Kealey got to his feet but didn’t look at her. “Naomi, she wasn’t involved-”
“Don’t say that, Ryan.” She backed up a couple feet, shaking her head wildly. “ Don’t tell me that! ” Still holding Foster’s gun, she clamped her free hand over her mouth, her eyes wide and disbelieving. She didn’t move for about twenty seconds. Then, as his words started to sink in, her legs gave way and she half-fell, half-sat on the smooth concrete floor, just outside the open office door.
Lowering her hand from her mouth, she stared into space for what seemed like a very long time, shaking her head slowly. Then it all seemed to hit her at once. Kealey saw the change sweep over her face as the guilt, grief, and regret took hold, squeezing away any lingering hope that this might be a dream. From personal experience, he knew that what he was seeing was only the start. It was painful to watch, but he also knew there was worse to come. Much worse.
He looked away, struggling with several emotions of his own. He was relieved beyond measure to find her alive and unharmed, but he was furious with her for what she had done, for what she had brought on herself. With one impulsive act, she had made a mistake that would haunt her forever. A mistake she could never take back.
He looked down at Samantha Crane. Her soft brown eyes were open, her lips slightly parted. In death, her face was strangely serene. It was hard to believe she was gone; just a moment ago she had been so alive, so vital and real. The small hole in her right cheek was barely noticeable, but as Kealey watched, a thin trickle of blood ran down from the wound to the floor. Gazing into her lifeless face, he was tempted to follow Naomi’s example: to sit down, let the exhaustion take over, and wait for the police to show up. But that just wasn’t an option; Vanderveen and Nazeri were still out there somewhere, and time was running out.
Snapping out of it, he went over and kneeled by her side, shaking her arm to get her attention. “Naomi, did you talk to Vanderveen? Did he mention anything about the bomb?”
She was still in denial, or maybe shock; it was hard to tell. She opened her mouth, but nothing came out.
“Come on, did he tell you anything? Where are they taking it?”
“He said… something about Times Square.”
“Times Square? You’re sure?”
“Yes.”
“When did Vanderveen leave?”
“Five minutes ago. Right before you got here. Nazeri is driving the truck.”
“Is Vanderveen with him?”
“I… I don’t know.”
Kealey closed his eyes, shaking his head. It didn’t make sense; Times Square was only five minutes away, to begin with. They should have felt the blast already. He flipped open his phone and dialed Harper’s number at Langley. “What kind of truck was it?”
“White,” she said in a daze. “With a box on the back. An Isuzu, I think.”
When Harper answered, Kealey said, “John, I need you to check something for me right now, no questions asked. The delegates with the UIA… Where are they staying in the city?”
“Jesus, Ryan, I have no idea-”
“Then find out,” he snapped. “And call me back.”
