“I’m here at the staircase.” Joshua was reporting as he stood at the bottom of the marble spiral staircases. A few people brushed past him, but all of them kept on going. “I haven’t been approached yet. Don’t know where he is…what’s happening with Cal?”
“We think we’ve got him located in the terminal.”
“Thank God…”
“We’re sending in some bomb experts.”
“What if our bad guy sees them?”
“They’re going to be as discreet as possible. We think your kidnapper’s dressed like an Amtrak official. Probably carrying either one or two briefcases or laptops. Something like that.”
“Okay…wait…I think that’s…”
Just then Joshua caught sight of Zimler, dressed in his Amtrak uniform, quickly descending the staircase toward him, carrying two briefcases, one small and one large.
Once again Joshua turned his eyes down to the Allfone that Zimler had furnished him with the video-feed of the ticking bomb.
It read: 09:36…09:35…
“He’s here,” Joshua whispered.
Inside the unmarked police van on the street, Gallagher was saying, “What did you say? Hey, Jordan say it again.” The ambient noise inside the terminal was making it difficult to pick up Joshua’s audio.
“Mr. Jordan,” Zimler said, “what a pleasure.” He was now standing next to Joshua Jordan. Joshua was sizing him up. The other guy was about an inch shorter. Maybe twenty pounds lighter. He looked like he might be in good shape. But that was it. Joshua was considering his options. If I have to take this guy down myself I may be able to do it.
Inside the van, Gallagher was trying to figure out what was going on. He wished that these Patriot guys had more remote cameras to sweep into the area and take videos of the action. But they had already used up four of their agents, two on video surveillance, one holding a little TV while picking up the emissions from Zimler’s computer, and a woman posing as a passenger late for the train to Dover. No one wanted to spook Zimler by having a familiar face hanging around him.
But then the FBI agent had a fleeting thought. He pictured Joshua Jordan, military hero meeting up with the guy who was holding his son hostage. He knew Zimler’s unassuming appearance. He also knew he was as deadly as a coral snake.
Gallagher clicked on the microphone.
“Joshua, this is Gallagher. One last warning. Do not underestimate this guy physically. He’s a very dangerous dude.”
Zimler stood next to Jordan and scanned the room, moving in a three-hundred-and-eighty-degree turn.
“I think you’ve brought some friends with you today,” Zimler said, testing him. “I warned you what I would do if that happened.”
“You think I’d be that foolish? Now, give me my son.”
Zimler and Joshua stared at each other.
Joshua looked down at the video picture on the Allfone. The bomb now said: 07:19…07:18…He desperately needed to move the negotiations.
“Turn off the bomb.”
“All in good time.”
“I said deactivate the bomb.” He moved a half step closer to Zimler.
“You haven’t given me the RTS documents. You’re the one wasting time here.”
Joshua handed him the metal briefcase he was carrying.
But Zimler wouldn’t take it.
Instead he said, “Not here. Not now. Follow me. And remember, I have the power to stop that bomb. Or to detonate it. You try anything out of the ordinary, and I will reduce your son to a pile of bloody, charred gristle.”
Then Zimler turned and started walking through the terminal.
“Where are we going?” Joshua asked.
“You want to see your son? You can see your son. Right now. I’ll take you to him. The two of you can be together.”
Panic struck. Joshua realized that the bomb squad might be there by now. Zimler could blunder right into that. That would spell disaster.
“You mean where Cal is…with the bomb around his neck?”
“Of course,” Zimler said coolly as they walked.
“Negative on that!” Joshua said and stopped in his tracks.
Zimler stopped. He switched his laptop to his other hand, the one already holding the big titanium briefcase.
The two men stared at each other. Zimler pulled his remote detonator out of his pocket. When he spoke he moved up to Joshua’s face and hissed with a demonic intensity. “Look at this, Mr. Jordan. This is your son’s life I’m holding in my hand. One push of the button, and he’s nothing but red smoke.”
“I’m not going in the same room as the bomb,” Joshua stammered.
Suddenly Zimler stepped back. A smile flickered over his face and he chuckled.
“America’s hero,” Zimler spat out, “is a coward! You don’t want to be near the bomb. Is that it?” He laughed again. Then he said, “Fine, follow me.”
Zimler led Joshua down to a corridor. He stopped at the door to a utility closet. He pulled out some keys, tried one, it failed, tried another, and then it opened. He pushed Joshua inside and flicked on the light and closed the door. Inside the four-by-four-foot room, filled with mops and a cleaning cart, he turned to Joshua and said, “Open the briefcase.”
Joshua glanced down at the Allfone: 04:03…04:02…
“Stop the bomb!” he cried out.
“Show me the RTS documents!”
Now was the moment of decision. Joshua knew that he had no choice but to entrust himself into the hands of the God that his wife prayed to. The Lord of all history that Pastor Campbell preached about.
He silently prayed for what would happen next.
At that moment, Joshua took a deep breath and released everything he held dear.
He crouched down to his metal briefcase. He whirled the combination on the locking mechanism, and it clicked open. Then he lifted the briefcase chest high and, facing its contents toward himself, he popped it open. He was taking his time. Hoping the bomb squad had reached Cal by now. That they were disarming the bomb even as he was cloistered in a utility closet face-to-face with the kidnapper.
“Show it to me,” Zimler said.
Joshua turned the opened briefcase to Zimler to show him the contents.
Zimler looked inside.
And he smiled for a second.
But in the next second his smile vanished and his face took on a look of merciless hate that was almost otherworldly.
“What is this?” Zimler spit out.
Atta Zimler was looking inside the briefcase. He was staring at the yellow cover of a New York City telephone book. Then he raised his eyes, filled with fury, toward Joshua.
“Who do you think you are? Who do you think you are?”
Joshua replied quietly. With the voice of total resignation.
“I’m the ram in the thicket.”