Alex Kava - Black Friday

Dixon had told her not to worry about his bleeding. "Just a flesh wound," he called it and Rebecca couldn't help thinking he sounded like one of the heroes in the graphic novels he loved to read.

"How do you know they rigged the place?"

"They told me. They laughed about it." He sounded out of breath. "It was right after they let my granddad's phone ring and ring. They told him if he called back at a certain time he'd get to talk to me again. But they wouldn't let me answer. It was still ringing when they threw the phone up on one of the shelves where I couldn't reach it."

He shook his head, then started sawing at the plastic again.

Then Rebecca smelled something besides gasoline. It was seeping down from the air vents.

"Dixon. Do you smell that?"

He sniffed the air.

"Holy crap," he said. "Smoke." He tried to saw faster.

Rebecca banged on the trapdoor, using her battered hands. What if the fire was already in the room above? They didn't have to rig a bomb. With all the spilled gasoline, all they had to do was light a match. It'd explode once the flame reached the fumes down here. It was hopeless.

She heard Dixon's plastic snap. He rushed over to help her. That's when they heard someone yelling above. Boots stomped. Wood cracked. Maybe they had decided to come back and kill them before they left them to burn. Rebecca crouched with Dixon in the corner.

The trapdoor started to split and the metal point of an ax came through. The smell of smoke was stronger. The voices louder. More boots thumping. A bright light shined down as the last of the trapdoor came away.

"Dixon Lee," someone shouted. "Are you down there?"

Rebecca held onto his arm as Dixon started to crawl forward. Above them, surrounding the hole where the trapdoor had been, were three men in SWAT team uniforms.

Nick almost didn't recognize David Ceimo. He came into the hotel conference room wearing a leather bomber jacket and aviator sunglasses pushed up on top of his thick mass of hair. And he was smiling.

Patrick had just finished with the police sketch artist, who didn't really sketch but manipulated the bomber's face on a computer screen, using a special computer program. Wurth had been on the phone nonstop, using one of the hotel's landlines instead of his cell phone. Kunze and Maggie pored over more files. Everyone, however, stopped what they were doing when Ceimo walked into the room.

"Just got the call. We have him," he said directly to Maggie. "He's alive and safe."

"Thank God."

Nick glanced around. Seemed Maggie was the only one who knew what Ceimo was talking about.

"Some of the bomber's cohorts kidnapped Henry Lee's grandson earlier today," Ceimo explained.

"Dixon?" Patrick shot up. "Becca was with Dixon."

"She's still with him. She's safe," Ceimo told him. "They had them locked up in the basement of a vacant office building. They must have been using it as a makeshift command center. Had computers, cables, wireless equipment—the works."

"Was there anything left behind that might tell us where the next attack is planned?" Wurth asked.

"Everything was smashed. The kid—Dixon, said they had portable drives on the computers that they bagged up and took with them. The basement reeked with gasoline. They started a small fire in one of the hallways. Probably expected the whole place to blow up. And it would have had the SWAT team gotten there a few minutes later."

Nick watched Maggie. She wasn't surprised by any of what Ceimo was telling them. This must have been the favor she'd asked of him.

"How did you know where they were?" Nick asked.

He noticed the look Ceimo and Maggie exchanged before Ceimo answered, as if he were getting permission.

"Dixon had his grandfather's cell phone. The kidnappers left it on for Mr. Lee to call. We were able to track their location by using the cell phone's internal GPS signal."

"Son of a bitch," Kunze muttered.

"Outsmarted the assholes," Ceimo said with that same smile that he had on his face when he came into the room. "They thought they had Mr. Lee under their thumb, so they got a bit cocky leaving the cell phone on. The boy said they taunted him with its ringing. They had no intention of returning him to his grandfather. Or the girl. Unfortunately, the kidnappers were gone before we got there." He pointed to the police sketch artist. "The kids are giving us descriptions."

"And Mr. Lee?" Maggie wanted to know.

"I've sent someone over to the hospital to let him know. He won't be able to see Dixon until after this is over. They're probably still having him watched."

"Wait a minute. Henry Lee? Is that who we're talking about?" Nick asked Maggie. "The head of HL Enterprises, the owner of United Allied Security, he was your informant?"

She glanced around the room, then nodded.

Maggie gave one of her hotel room key cards to Patrick.

"Go get some sleep," she told him. Actually it didn't take much convincing once Ceimo promised to let him talk to Rebecca.

Charlie Wurth recommended they all go get a few hours of sleep. There was nothing more they could do here. As soon as Wurth informed Senator Foster about a second plot, he offered the use of his jet, but it wouldn't be ready to take off for Phoenix until late afternoon. Wurth, himself, didn't leave, continuing to work the phones, a landline and his cell phone, all the while punching keys on his laptop computer.

Before Maggie could pack up her own laptop, Nick was at her side.

"I can't believe you didn't tell me your informant was Henry Lee."

He sounded upset. She checked his eyes. He was hurt.

"I told you I couldn't. At least not until we knew his grandson was safe."

"But Ceimo knew."

She took a deep breath. Is that what this was about? A spark of jealousy between two old football rivals. Just when she thought Nick Morrelli could actually be a grown-up. Back in her hotel room, for a minute or two, she thought perhaps he had changed.

"He was able to help," she explained, "using the governor's influence."

"If you honestly trusted me, you would have told me it was Henry Lee. But because I work for one of his companies…what'd you think, I would run off and tell my boss, Al Banoff?"

"Wait a minute," Maggie said, putting up her hands in surrender. "I didn't even know Mr. Lee was the majority owner of UAS."

"Yeah, that's what you said." He didn't believe her.

"Why would I lie? Is that what you're insinuating? That I lied?"

"I don't know, did you? You could trust Ceimo, but not me. Maybe you thought I was somehow involved in all of this…this ridiculous plot to strong-arm malls and airports to upgrade their security?"

"Of course not." She was getting impatient. "If anything, they sent you to make sure their plot wasn't revealed."

That stopped him. As soon as she saw his jaw clench tight and twitch with tension, she knew she had said the wrong thing.

"I didn't mean it that way," she started to apologize. "I only meant that they may have taken advantage of sending someone new."

"Someone green. Someone who didn't know what the fuck he was doing."

"Nick."

"Forget about it." He waved her off. "There're more important things to worry about right now."

But she could tell he was still upset as he turned to leave, jaw still tight, shoulders squared. He didn't just walk away from her, he left the room.

When she turned back, A.D. Kunze was there.

He pointed with his chin at the exit. "Don't worry about it. He'll get over it." He lifted a file folder he had in his hand. "I have something I want you to see."

"What is it?"

He looked around the room. Ceimo had left. Patrick and Nick were gone. Wurth was the only one and he was busy multitasking in the corner. Still, Kunze motioned for her to sit down at one of the tables in the opposite corner.