Silent Night - By Tom Barber Page 0,35

dropping to one knee, peered inside. He saw one of those now familiar boxes, the lid askew and the remains of what had been the vial just visible, the glass cylinder cracked in two. Its terrible job had been accomplished.

Rising, Archer turned and saw Josh walking towards him through the dim store. He was moving slowly, staring at the horrific scene around him, a gas mask over his face. He came to a halt beside Archer and the CRT specialist but didn’t say a word.

With the darkness and thumping music, the grisly scene lit by flashing lights, it looked like something out of a nightmare.

The three men stood there in silence.

Surrounded by death.

Josh had just called Shepherd to inform him of the situation but he needn’t have bothered. He and Rach had Fox News up on the screen and were watching the initial reports on the disaster.

Breaking: Chemical Pipe ruptures in clothing store by Seaport, kills 59.

The TV pictures were showing people being held back behind the cordoned-off area, some watching with ghoulish fascination, others who had family members unaccounted for being interviewed by reporters, desperate to be allowed inside to find their loved ones. But the ESU teams were continuing to keep them back. The front of the store had been tented off. Nothing was visible and no one was getting closer.

‘We were too late,’ Rach said quietly.

Shepherd watched the screen for a few moments longer, his face expressionless.

Then he turned to her.

‘The shot of the Macy’s bomber when he dumped his coat. Pull it up again.’

She nodded, then started tapping away. The television shots disappeared, replaced by the city camera feed. It took her less than thirty seconds to find the right camera and pause it at the moment the man appeared.

‘Play.’

They watched as he moved out of the store, shrugging off the identifiable jacket then dumping it in a can. He raised his hand for a taxi but the vehicle was just out of shot.

‘Any cameras facing east or west?’

Rach tapped and another box appeared. It was a camera from 34 and 7, facing east.

‘Match the time,’ Shepherd said. Rach did and hit Pause. She then zoomed in, closer and closer. The shot was pixelated.

‘Render.’

She hit Enter. There was a second’s delay, then the screen cleared.

A series of numbers and letters were now as clear as crystal on the screen. The taxi’s licence plates.

‘Got you, you son of a bitch,’ Shepherd said, pulling his cell and moving to the door. He turned back to Rach as he walked. ‘Find that third bomber fast!’

Across Queens, Donnie entered a run-down house off Ditmars Boulevard and shut the front door behind him. It had been their hideout last night but they were only occupying the ground floor. He walked down the corridor, passing a sitting room on his right and moved into the kitchen.

He found Bleeker waiting in there anxiously, watching the midday news on the television. He was sitting on a stool and had a Remington 870 12 gauge shotgun resting on the kitchen table within easy reach. Donnie looked at the screen and saw a Breaking News item from the Seaport.

‘Did it work?’

‘They found mine,’ Bleeker said. ‘They didn’t find yours.’

Looking at the screen, Donnie blinked. He smiled.

‘So that’s good, right? At least one of them succeeded. This is what you wanted.’

‘So where the hell is Nate?’

‘He didn’t come back?’

‘No. And his bomb should’ve gone off by now. It should be all over the news like yours.’

Donnie didn’t speak. Bleeker swore and checked his watch.

‘Anyway, mission accomplished. Pack your shit. We’re out of here, with or without him.’

‘What about your deal with the Brit?’

Bleeker shook his head.

‘Screw him. I don’t need his money anymore. After what just happened, you and I are going to be richer than we could have ever dreamed.’

Stepping out of the containment tent at the Seaport, Archer pulled off the gas mask and sucked in a deep, cleansing breath of fresh air. He walked over to the CRT truck and passed the mask back to a man inside, thanking him. Josh followed him out. Archer saw him take off his own mask and fumble in his pocket. He pulled out his cell, taking a call and holding it to his ear.

‘Sir?’

He listened for a moment. Archer watched his expression.

They had something.

Still listening, Josh moved forward, tossing the gas mask to the CRT guy in the truck and nodding his thanks, then ended the call.

‘Shepherd called the cab company. Apparently the Macy’s bomber was dropped