Silent Night - By Tom Barber Page 0,29

off bomb carefully against the wall by the toilet bowl. Hansen watched her do it, then turned his attention to the blond man with the gun. He went to speak but the woman rose and suddenly slapped a rear choke on him, hooking her legs around his hips and pulling him back. They hit the ground with a thump and she tightened the squeeze, the leather on her jacket creaking. Hansen gagged and clutched at her forearm desperately as it blocked his airway.

He passed out after six seconds or so. Drexler held the choke for another thirty seconds until he suffocated. Once he was gone, she released him and rose, dusting herself off. Wicks tucked his pistol into a holster under his coat then knelt down and broke Hansen’s neck, just to be sure. One grip and one sharp wrench.

Drexler crouched down and retrieved the box. She separated the vial from the bomb and rose, examining it in her hand. The toxic yellow liquid was gathered at the bottom, a small amount, seemingly innocuous yet horrifyingly dangerous.

‘Now we’re talking,’ she said.

With the dead man slumped on the ground, his head at a strange angle, Drexler unlocked the door and stepped out. Wicks flicked the lock back on as he followed then pulled the door hard behind him, sealing it shut.

Together, the two of them headed out of the patisserie and back out onto the street.

The vial containing the virus held securely in Drexler’s hand and tucked safely into her right jacket pocket.

FOURTEEN

Archer and Josh watched as the two CRT specialists carried the glass container across Macy’s third floor, stopping outside the lifts. One of them pushed the button and the doors to a cart slid open immediately. The two men moved inside, the boxed virus between them. One of them jabbed the button for the ground floor and the doors shut, the two men disappearing out of sight.

Across the level, members of the ESU team, HAZMAT and store security had gathered, talking quietly with each other. The area had been cordoned off and HAZMAT were preparing to screen it to ensure there was no toxicity or any traces of the virus in the air. It was a set procedure which had to followed, but they were fully aware that if even a tiny amount of the virus had escaped they’d have known all about it by now.

Josh pulled his cell phone out and called Shepherd as Archer stood watching the group.

‘Sir, we found the device,’ he said. ‘The son of a bitch hid it in a panel in a changing room.’

‘Defused?’

‘No, but it’s secured. The CRT team put it in a protective casing just before it detonated.’

‘But it went off?’

‘Yes. It did.’

‘Jesus.’ He paused. ‘Good job, but listen. We’re not done with this yet.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘This guy isn’t working alone. Before we found him, he was with two other men inside the subway at Times Square. Each of them was carrying a bag which we’re certain contains a box. We think each one is a bomb. We’re working on finding the other two now.’

Josh swore, then turned to Archer.

‘There could be two more of these things.’

‘Aside from the guy in red, none of them are wearing distinctive clothing. Rach is having a hard time tracking them. They also used the subway so could have stepped off at any station. I’ll call you back.’

Josh lowered the phone as Shepherd ended the call.

‘Two more. Shit, we only just got to this one.’

Archer nodded grimly, looking around the store. ‘Something about this is weird.’

‘How do you mean?’

‘You saw that bomb. It wasn’t high tech. It was homemade, same as the one in the Park. Crude as hell. It was in a shoebox for Christ’s sake.’

‘So?’

‘How the hell does someone so amateurish get hold of something so dangerous?’

‘He wasn’t exactly amateur, Arch. He was thirty seconds from succeeding.’

Archer went to answer, but Josh’s phone rang. He answered immediately.

‘Sir?’

‘Got one! He stepped off a 6 train and headed towards the South Street Seaport ten minutes ago. Rach is alerting the area response teams.’

Josh started running for the escalator, Archer close on his heels.

Forty three blocks uptown, completely unaware of events in Midtown, Marquez and Jorgensen walked down the fourth-floor corridor of a five-storey apartment building on the Upper West Side, on 77Street between Amsterdam and Broadway. They weren’t far from Flood Microbiology, which made sense as this was where Dr Kruger’s apartment was located. He didn’t have a police file but Rach had found