Джеймс Паттерсон - The 13-Minute Murder

There was nothing he could do but wait.

Another few minutes ticked by like an eternity.

Then he saw the limo crawl slowly to the front steps, visible through the lobby windows. Just like the president’s car.

“Let me see inside that car!” Beck demanded. “Open all those doors!”

The agent frowned, but she spoke into her radio again. Outside, Beck saw an agent get out of the driver’s seat, and then open all the limo doors. Another agent reluctantly got out of the back. Beck could see the whole interior now.

There were all the screens and radios that Howard had been using. It was the same car.

But no sign of him, or Susan.

Where were they?

Chapter 41

Susan was trapped in the mob. She couldn’t move. The crowd of people trying to escape from the performing arts center had come up against the people from the media trying to get in for a better look and the other cops, causing the mass of bodies to become gridlocked.

The police and security were doing their best to manage the mess, but they weren’t helped by the sudden cry of alarm from someone near the front door: “He’s got a bomb! Run!”

Susan was jostled back and forth as the panicked crowd surged for the security barriers. The media still wasn’t moving, despite the shouts and threats of the authorities.

The only good news in all of this was that she hadn’t seen Howard or Morrison. At least, not yet. But she felt exposed, like she had a target on her head for a high-flying drone strike.

She didn’t know what Randall was doing in there, but she had to find a way to help him. He was alone, and risking his life. So she’d have to figure out a way to help save them both.

She had the laptop. It could prove everything. But there was no way to get it to the right people, not right now—

Then Susan wanted to hit herself in the forehead. She was surrounded by the right people. They were pushing her from every direction.

Susan looked around for the closest person with a video camera.

While she was scanning the crowd, she saw two eyes burning behind a mask of bandages, a scowling face painted with drying blood.

Howard.

He locked eyes with her at the same moment, and began shoving his way through the mass of people, holding his badge over his head. “Secret Service,” he bellowed, loud enough for her to hear despite the distance and the noise of the mob.

She started moving in the other direction, sliding between people as best she could.

Then she couldn’t move any farther. She was pinned against a news van.

She looked over her shoulder and saw Howard coming for her, moving through the crowd like a shark through the water, eyes fixed on her.

She tried the van’s door handle and pulled.

It opened.

A woman wearing heavy makeup turned and stared at her. So did a man with a scruffy beard, and a producer sitting in front of a board of equipment.

The woman spoke first. “What the hell are you doing?”

Susan stepped up into the news van, and slammed the door behind her.

She recognized the woman. Danielle Crain, one of the field reporters for CNN. She smiled a lot more on TV. Right now, she was glaring at Susan.

“The guy in there with a bomb?” Susan said. “I know him. And I can tell you everything about him.”

Danielle was suddenly all smiles. “Sit down,” she said. “Start talking.”

Chapter 42

Beck decided he didn’t have time to worry about where Susan and Howard were now. He had to move. Keep the momentum going. Keep anyone else from stopping him.

He rushed out the door, pushing Pierce ahead of him. He had her arm pinned behind her like a perp, his gun aimed at her head. He tried to stay crouched behind her, walking as low as he could, continuing to use her as a shield.

Then he pushed her into the limo.

From the backseat, he slammed all the rear doors and pressed the button to close the screen between them and the front seat.

Then he sat back in the plush leather.

For a second, he simply took in a deep breath.

Pierce stared at him.

“Now what?” she asked. She sounded truly baffled. “Do you think you’re going to drive out of here?”

“I don’t think we’re going anywhere,” Beck replied.

“There’s nothing here that can help you, Beck! The whole world saw you! They think you’re a terrorist! The whole world saw you take me hostage and bring me into this car—”

“That’s right,” Beck said, cutting her off. “Into this car. This car that your friend Howard was so proud of. Just like the president’s, he said. Bulletproof. And bombproof. If your men trigger the bomb now, the explosion will be contained in here.”

Pierce looked at him with wide eyes. “But we’ll both still die!”

“I’m dying anyway, Senator,” Beck said. “Remember?”

She glared at him with pure hate. “You’re crazy,” she said.

For some reason, that just made Beck grin.

“Yeah,” he replied. “I get that a lot.”

Chapter 43

“That’s the most insane story I’ve ever heard,” Danielle told Susan. “You sound more like a mental patient than a doctor.”

Susan had only had time to give Danielle Crain, her producer, and her cameraman the highlights of everything that had happened today. She knew Howard was outside the news van, and the clock was ticking on Randall’s life.

From inside the van, they’d all watched on one of the small TV monitors as Randall forced the senator out of the lobby and down the steps into the waiting limo.

And then they had waited, along with everyone else in America, glued to their screens.

Nothing was happening right now. The police were trying to get the crowd and the news media away from the building. Nobody wanted to move. Nobody wanted to miss it when the crazy man was finally killed.

Every camera was locked on to the limo, waiting for the moment they could broadcast Randall’s messy death to millions of viewers. The chyron at the bottom of the screen read:

LIVE FROM THE PRESIDENTIAL DEBATE—ARMED MAN HAS TAKEN SENATOR PIERCE HOSTAGE.

That left Danielle Crain outside and off the air during the biggest story of the year. She was annoyed, Susan could tell. Susan had to give her a way to get back into the action.

All she had to do was convince her.

Susan opened the laptop and quickly typed in Kevin Scott’s password. The Damocles e-mails and documents popped up immediately, still onscreen from when Susan had found them before.

“Look,” Susan said. “Look at all of this. It will show you that I’m telling the truth. Randall is telling the truth. This is all part of an attempt to kill President Martin.”

She turned the screen toward Danielle. There were e-mails laying out the plot in meticulous detail. There were schedules and maps and step-by-step instructions for assembling the bomb. Damocles, like so many other corporations, believed in proper paperwork. And any conspiracy is a complicated machine—it requires a lot of planning to pull off properly.

Scott had documented all of it. There was even a video Scott had recorded using a hidden camera. It showed him meeting with Pierce and Morrison and Howard.

But before the newswoman could go through the evidence, there was a heavy pounding on the door of the van.

“Open up!” a clogged, nasal voice demanded. “This is the Secret Service! You’ve got a wanted criminal in there!”

Danielle looked at Susan. “That’s you, I guess?”

“Don’t open that door,” Susan said desperately. “Do not listen to him. He’s got a badge, but he’s a murderer. I swear, he will kill me if you open that door—”

Danielle made a face. She reached past Susan, grabbed the handle, and yanked open the door of the van.