Rick Mofina - Every Second

“I don’t have much time,” Varner said as the rotor blades began turning. “We’re going to the Albany hospital to talk to Lori Fulton.”

“I wanted to tell you that I’m glad this all worked out, even though you were a hard-ass most of the time.”

Varner gave her a deep, sincere smile that she liked very much.

“It’s my job. Besides, you’re one hell of a journalist. I’ve never met anyone like you, Kate.”

She blushed then shifted the subject to work.

“Would you mention to Lori Fulton that I’d love to get the first interview with her?”

“Sure, on one condition.”

“What’s that?” She spoke louder over the chopper.

“You agree to have coffee with me some time.”

They smiled at each other.

“It’s a deal, Varner.”

New York

Kate smiled as Strobic guided the Silverado south on the Thruway, keeping it within the speed limit.

Her story and his pictures had been filed.

It was over.

They were going home, and the tension melted with each passing mile, allowing Kate to relax as she watched the scudding clouds filtering the sunlight over the sweeping forest hills.

“It was a helluva story,” Strobic said, smiling at her. “You did some nice work, Kate.”

“You, too, Stan.”

“What’re you going to do when we get back?”

“I’m going to have a girls’ day out on the town with my daughter, my sister and friend. What about you?”

“I’ll log my overtime and mileage, maybe get Yankees tickets. Hey-” He reached for the radio. “How about some country music? I know deep down you love it.”

She shook her head, smiling.

“Sure, Stan. Whatever.”

Dan was going to make it.

In the hour before dawn, when he’d squeezed her hand, opened his eyes and gave her a tiny smile, Lori knew she had him back.

Billy was going to make it, too.

We’re going to be okay.

Lori held on to that assurance later when Varner and Tilden arrived.

With Valachek and a nurse nearby, Lori sat up in her bed and told the investigators everything, from the night of the invasion by the four men, to Dan’s heroic action, to her last memory of being rescued at the riverbank.

Varner’s and Tilden’s phones vibrated with messages but they ignored them as Lori continued, telling them of her connection to Jerricko Blaine and his brother. She recounted the abduction and how the suspects intended to record their beheadings as part of the planned attacks.

“It was all on their laptop, the targets were-the Staten Island Ferry, Times Square, Penn Station and Grand Central Terminal. They’d made martyr videos condemning the US government and Americans. They were using the money from Dan’s bank to fund other operations and had a list of homegrown radicals to share with their leaders.”

“Hold on, Lori,” Tilden said. “You said the targets were the Staten Island Ferry, Times Square, Penn Station and Grand Central?”

“Yes.”

“You’re absolutely certain?”

“Yes. I saw their file on their laptop.”

Tilden threw a glance to Varner.

“That’s four targets, Nick. We can only account for three IEDs.”

The Silverado’s headlights gleamed on the white-tiled walls of the Lincoln Tunnel.

Strobic guided his pickup along one of the two eastbound lanes that curved under the Hudson River from New Jersey to Manhattan.

Kate was looking at Grace and Vanessa on her phone, estimating how much longer before she’d have a few days off to spend with them.

“So,” Strobic said, “we’ll go to the newsroom first. Wrap things up there?”

“Yeah, let’s do that.”

“Okay, then I’ll drive you home.”

“Sounds great, thanks.”

Daylight was glowing as they neared the end of the tunnel.

“You’re certain there were four targets?”

“That’s right. Four,” Lori said.

“Didn’t that trooper say he saw them carry four backpacks into the diner?” Tilden asked.

“I thought he wasn’t sure,” Varner said.

Tilden turned to study messages on his phone as Varner continued questioning Lori.

“Did you see the press conference, Lori? It was broadcast live earlier this morning?” Varner asked.

“No, I didn’t watch it.”

“Okay, I’m going to show you some photos.”

Varner started with a photo of Todd Dalir Ghorbani.

“I’ve never seen him before.”

“We’ve confirmed him as deceased at the diner. He was the bomb maker from Springfield, Massachusetts.”

Varner showed Lori photos of Doug Gerard Kimmett.

“Yes, that’s one of them,” Lori said.

“He’s deceased at the diner.”

Then he showed her photos of Jake Sebastian Spencer.

“Yes, he’s one of them.”

“Deceased at the diner.”

He then showed her photos of Jerricko Titus Blaine.

“That’s Jerricko Blaine.”

“He’s also deceased. He detonated the IED.”

Then he showed her the last photo, a clear picture they’d taken of Adam Chisolm Patterson while in custody.

“Who’s that?” Lori asked.

“Adam Chisolm Patterson of Chicago, one of the four men who abducted you.”

Lori looked again, then shook her head.

“No, I’ve never seen him before.”

“Are you sure?”

“Their faces are burned into my memory. Trust me, I’m sure.”

“Nick, look at this.” Tilden held his phone to Varner.

The message said that the forensic techs found a finger at the scene and had obtained an impression from it. Chicago FBI and Chicago PD were able to compare it with a latent found in Adam Chisolm Patterson’s last known Chicago address.

“Nick, the guy who detonated the IED was Patterson, not Blaine. And look at this supplemental message from Canada. The kid we have in custody-the RCMP confirms his identity as Thomas Randall Thompson!”

Varner’s gut heaved.

They had the wrong guy.

Jerricko Titus Blaine was missing, along with one bomb.

After leaving the Lincoln Tunnel, Strobic headed for Newslead’s headquarters.

He’d wheeled on to West Thirty-Third Street when the rear cab window slid open, and Jerricko Titus Blaine stuck his arm through it and held a Glock pistol to Strobic’s head.

“I’ve got a bomb strapped to me that I can explode in one second!”

“Okay! Take it easy!” Strobic held up one hand. “What’d you want?”

“You’ll drive where I tell you!”

“Okay!”

“You!” Blaine pointed the gun at Kate. “Get back in here with me!”

All the saliva dried in Kate’s mouth and her skin prickled as she looked at Strobic without moving. She screamed and spasmed when the cab exploded with muzzle flash as Blaine fired a shot into the console.

“Get in the back now!”

Kate unbuckled her belt, climbed into the back, squeezing through the rear window.

“Drive to Forty-Second and Sixth Avenue!”

Strobic nodded.

“Okay, okay! Forty-Second and Sixth! Okay!”

Kate had to force herself to breathe.

In the back she saw that Blaine was wearing a backpack that bulged and what looked like a pull cord dangling from the shoulder strap.

“Why are you doing this? Why did you pick us?”

Blaine stared at Kate as if she were something to be scraped from the sole of his boot.

“I didn’t pick you. Fate chose you!”

“I don’t understand.”

“After my brothers died as martyrs, God led me into the woods along the road into the first safe vehicle. Back here, I heard you talking. You’re infidel press! You print lies to support your murdering American government! It is my destiny to kill you and all nonbelievers!”