Rick Mofina - Every Second

“I’ll take a look,” O’Mara shouted then moved toward the patient.

He knelt over the bleeding man, studying the vest. The packs looked to him like C-4, which was material that was hard to obtain. He sniffed them for the characteristic smell of C-4 but was still not certain. He knew C-4 would not explode when moved or dropped and given the man’s injuries, he likely tumbled off the edge of the climb without detonating the bomb. Still, he was wary. The arming mechanism looked genuine and rigged to a remote detonation pack, but it wasn’t that sophisticated by his estimation.

With the helicopter thundering, the vest’s battery light ticking down and blood oozing from the patient, O’Mara knew he had to make a decision now.

Betting his life, he reached for the wire he believed would disarm the vest.

“It’s just you and me, buddy,” O’Mara said as he pinched a yellow wire, getting ready to pull it. “Our Father, who art in Heaven…”

Coyote Mountains, New York

Percy pressed the send button on his phone, but nothing happened.

No flash. No bang. No nothing.

He looked at the screen for an answer. He still had a signal, so he tried the number again.

Nothing happened. The blue patch was still there, tiny among the woods in the distance.

“What the hell?” Percy thumbed the send key repeatedly.

“What’d you think you’re doing?” Vic said, keeping his voice low as he arrived with Jerricko.

“I found them.” Percy indicated the colored square far off. “And I’m going to kill them.”

“Stop! You were ordered not to detonate the vests!”

“But you know it’s the best way to stop them.”

“She’s got all of our data-you could destroy everything!”

“What the hell’re you thinking? We killed the husband. We don’t need the data, we know what to do.”

“We need that laptop. You don’t know what’s on there.”

“We know the operation. I say we stop running around and finish the rest of them-now!” Percy held up his phone. “I got a signal here but the code’s not working. Why isn’t it working?”

Vic didn’t answer.

“I asked you a question!” Percy said.

Percy, Cutty and Jerricko stared at Vic as he considered the question, letting a long tense moment pass before he said, “The bombs aren’t real.”

“What do you mean they’re not real?” Percy asked.

“The C-4’s modeling clay, and the batteries just make the light flash. The wires are for show.”

Percy and Cutty glared at Vic.

“We needed the family to think they were real-especially Dan-to guarantee they’d cooperate. I needed you, the squad, to believe they were real, so that we could convince them.”

“Why the hell wouldn’t we use real bombs?”

“We didn’t have the time or resources to make them for this part of the mission. Look, this was the only way to protect the entire operation.” Vic looked at each of the men in turn. “Do you get that?”

One by one they nodded.

“Now, we need to get that laptop, dispose of those two, then make our contact so we can proceed to the next stage before it’s too late.”

“Look,” Jerricko pointed at the moving patch of blue.

“We can’t waste another second,” Vic said. “Jerricko, you swing north. I’ll go south. You-” Vic tapped Percy’s shoulder “-swing east.” He nodded to Cutty. “Take the west. We’ll box them in, then tighten the noose.”

Coyote Mountains, New York

The East River dropped under Nick Varner, and skyscrapers reached up as the state police helicopter lifted off from Pier Six in Lower Manhattan.

Marv Tilden and two other investigators were also belted to their seats as the chopper thundered north to the Coyote range where two locals had found Dan Fulton.

Fulton’s condition was critical and he was not expected to live. He’d been airlifted to a trauma center in Albany where he was now undergoing surgery. If he survived, they’d need to talk to him. But first they had to get to the scene, which, by helicopter, was twenty minutes away.

The metropolis unfurled below, giving way to New Jersey, then the forests, hills and mountains of New York. Varner missed much of it because he was working on his phone, reviewing the recent progress they’d made on the case.

When the FBI had been alerted to Fulton’s discovery, Varner and Tilden had been in the process of interviewing Jerricko Blaine’s uncle Walid Sattar and his son, Omar Sattar. Alarmed by the news reports, the Sattars had come forward with information. They’d revealed that Jerricko had stayed with them in the weeks prior to the bank robbery/abduction in Queens.

“We had not seen him or his mother for years since his brother’s death, so we let him stay. It was out of respect,” Walid had said. “He’s family. But Jerricko upset everyone, always talking jihad, ranting about the evils of America and his duty to fight against it. He tried to recruit my son to his way of thinking.”

Omar had given Varner and Tilden as much information about the “big operation” as he could, and about Jerricko’s talk of action.

“He said they could use me as a chemist in an event that would make us famous forever. He didn’t tell me what it was. He was very cryptic,” Omar had said. “But I do know that he went to the public library to use the computers there, probably to talk to his friends.”

This all fit with the information they’d received from FBI agents in LA, Varner thought as he’d continued making notes.

“You see,” Walid had said, “we’re proud American citizens. We have nothing to do with Jerricko’s craziness.”

Varner knew that the Sattars had handed them a key piece of information, but it was not the only break. More information had come in around the same time.

As the chopper pushed north, Varner reviewed video footage collected from residential security cameras in the Fultons’ Roseoak Park neighborhood. It showed four male figures entering the Fulton home. There was footage of Lori and Billy being forced into a van, and later of Dan driving off with an SUV following him. It confirmed what they’d suspected from the start: Jerricko Blaine did not act alone.

They’d also learned that the bomb vest the suspects had put on Dan Fulton was nothing but a prop. Combined with the fingerprint evidence and other mistakes they had made, the suspects were untrained, inexperienced amateurs, possibly homegrown, self-radicalized extremists, and questions raced through Varner’s mind.

What was the “big operation” they were planning? Was it this-the robbery and abduction-or something bigger? Did they take the cash to get rich? Or was there another use for it? Were they acting on their own or being guided?

The FBI had moved to expedite warrants to search the Sattar home in Yonkers and the public library branch Jerricko Blaine had used. And again, Varner submitted Jerricko Blaine’s name into the Guardian database, the networks for Homeland, Justice, the State Department and several others.

He double-checked to ensure he’d also made submissions for Blaine’s mother, Nazihah Bilaal Samadyh, and brother, Malcolm Jordan Samadyh.

Pieces were coming together.

Now we’ve got to connect the dots.

The helicopter skimmed treetops as it descended, agitating branches and whipping up dirt as it put down.

Bending under the whomping rotor wash, Varner’s team hurried to meet investigators from the state and county. The State Police Crime Scene Emergency Response techs were working with the FBI’s Evidence Response Team. “Agent Varner. I’m Fred Dylan, New York State Police.” Dylan handed the newcomers shoe covers and latex gloves. “This way. Follow the red ribbon closely to protect the scene, please.”