The morning session of the annual conference on Homeland Security ended at 12:05 with everyone dismissed for lunch. While a few people left the center to eat in one of the nearby cafés or restaurants, most went to the special dining area for dignitaries and guests, or to the upstairs dining area for the general attendees on the fourth level.
Agent Osborn tapped Stephen on the arm, motioned with his head, and said, “Let’s go to the security office to see how they’re doing. We can have our lunch delivered there.”
Stephen nodded. “Sounds good.”
Osborn called Janson on his wrist mike, told him what they were doing and asked if he wanted to join them. He was happy to do so. “There’ll be plenty of time to talk while we’re eating, and I can still be ready before the President arrives. See you there at the office.”
Leaving the conference seating area, Osborn and Stephen made their way through the crowd to the special dining area where Osborn greeting several people, smiling, shaking hands and saying hello on the way to the elevator. Relieved to get in and close the door, Osborn pushed the button for the second level.
“That was an interesting trip for you, Randy. Wasn’t aware so many people knew who you are, being FBI and all that.”
Osborn winked at Stephen. “Some people think Congressmen are terrorists of a sort.” He smiled. “Actually, politics is too much a part of my job. I have to appear before various committees occasionally and that’s not always much fun. Then I have my bosses to keep informed, and they have people they must deal with, who sometimes call on me also.”
“Guess there’s no way to get away from the politics, no matter what you do,” Stephen replied.
“Yes,” said Osborn. “And in my case, it really is politics.” He laughed.
Walking into the security office, Osborn called over to one of the FBI agents working there. “Say, Pete, can you call the kitchen and have three extra meals delivered here—one for Stephen here, myself, and Janson? He’ll be here in a minute.”
“Anything special you want?”
“No, nothing special. Filet mignon, a loaded baked potato, sautéed mushrooms, bacon bits, chives. You know, all the standard stuff, and just one banana split each should do for today.”
Pete broke into laughter. “Cloth napkins okay, or do you want silk?”
“Oh, plain ordinary cloth,” he nodded his head sideways, smiling, “pressed and folded neatly into thirds covering the plate, but not touching the salad.”
“They may be a little late with that, boss. If you’re asking for three of them, that is.”
“Okay, then. Have them send the regular meal, if they have to.”
“Right. Three spaghettis it is.” He looked at Stephen, then back to Osborn. “I’ll tell them to hold the garlic bread. You don’t want to gain any weight.”
Osborn winked. “Watch it there, Petey.”
When Pete finished speaking to the kitchen, he put the phone down and asked, “Hey, boss. You want some cold coffee while you’re waiting?”
“Thanks, Pete. You’re so thoughtful.” He motioned to Stephen. “I think we’re all right. We’ll wait for the main entree.”
As Stephen and Osborn sat down, Janson entered the room. “Am I too late for a wonderful lunch?”
“No, not at all,” Osborn answered.
Stephen said, “We ordered a special one just for you.”
“What? Baked FBI?”
Stephen smiled. “No, fried.”
“Good. In that case I’ll join you gentlemen.” He faced the rest of the crew and did a small bow. “If you’ll permit me?”
One of the Secret Service men answered. “Why sure. Have a seat, Mr. ... uh, what’s your name? Smith?”
“Yes, Agent Smith.” He shook his head. “Not Jones.”
The Secret Service agent stood up and held out his hand, motioning. “Please, won’t you join us, Mr. Smith?” He sat back down laughing. They all laughed.
As he sat down, Janson inquired, “Anything new at all?”
“Not a thing,” was the reply. “Everything is normal and quiet. Almost too normal when you know something is going to happen.”
The other Secret Service agent said, “I wish we had a way of telling what and when. This waiting is hard on my nerves.”
“Don’t I know it,” Janson answered. He turned to Osborn and Stephen. “No sign of our special guest?”
“Nothing.”
Changing the subject, Stephen leaned back in his chair and asked, “What time did you say the President should arrive?”
Janson checked his watch and thought for a minute. “He should be on Marine One right now. The city has a special parade route for him to follow. Once he leaves the airport, it should take about fifty minutes to get here. So, he should arrive at about two o’clock. I’d better be downstairs and have our team ready at 1:30. We don’t want him to arrive before we’re prepared.”
Osborn raised his eyebrows. “Not too good.”
“For sure,” Janson replied.
One of the kitchen staff, wearing his security badge, wheeled the lunch cart into the office. “Here you are, gentlemen.” He began to serve each man with their lunch: Salisbury steak, potatoes and gravy, mixed vegetables, and a dinner role. He had thermos containers with coffee and tea, and also had some bottled water.
Small talk persisted among all the men present as they ate their meals. Two of the Secret Service agents kept watch on the security monitors as they ate.
Janson pressed his radio earpiece to his ear. He nodded and announced, “The President has left the airport. He’ll be here in just under an hour.”
“Then there’s time to finish eating,” said one of the Secret Service seated by the monitors.
“Yes,” Janson looked over and smiled. “for a change.”" He took another bite.
Just then another member of the Secret Service wearing a dark gray suit and tie stuck his head into the room. Spying Janson, he walked over and whispered in his ear.
Janson’s eyes opened wide as he turned to look at the man. “What?” he almost screamed. “You’ve got to be shitting me.”
He jumped up and threw his napkin on the table. Starting toward the door, he told the others, “They’ve just found some bombs on the conference floor.”
“Where?” shouted Osborn, also getting up fast. He motioned for Stephen to follow him.
“Under the speaker’s platform,” answered Janson. He stopped and turned at the door, pointed to the two Secret Service agents at the monitors. “Call the bomb squad. I want two of their best men there right now! The President’s on his way!”
He rushed out, followed closely by Osborn, but then Osborn stopped. He spoke to the Secret Service agents. “Keep this quiet for now. Don’t announce anything. We don’t want a panic. We’ll give the order to evacuate if it’s necessary. Wait to hear from one of us.”
Osborn turned and moved away quickly, almost running. Stephen hurried to keep up with him. Stephen noticed that Janson didn’t wait for the elevator. He went straight for the stairs. Osborn followed him, and Stephen followed Osborn.
Once they reached the third level, they all ran to the conference seating area. It was almost deserted. Only a handful of Secret Service agents dressed in suits were there. All the patrons for the conference were either eating their lunches or gone out of the building. As he got there, Stephen heard one of the men tell Janson, “Mike dropped his cell phone by the side of the platform. When he bent down to pick it up, he noticed a reflection off something under the stand. He stuck his head under and saw the bombs.”
“Okay. First of all, nobody touch anything. Stay out from under the platform. Don’t go under there. Wait for the bomb crew. Where’s Mike?”
“Here, sir.” Another agent in a brown suit stepped up from the side.
“What did you see?”
“I had to crawl under to get close enough to see for sure.”
“Okay. What did you find?”
“Black plastic pipe. The ends are sealed. That’s why the dogs didn’t find them.” He was breathing hard. “They’re attached to the leg stands at the corners where they meet the floor of the platform. There’s a whole bunch of them there, sir. At least twenty. There’s enough damned explosives there to blow this whole place to smithereens.”
“What else did you see?” He held up his hand in a motion to stop. “Just a minute.” He turned to the agent who interrupted his lunch with the news. “Where are those bomb guys? Are they here?”
“No, sir.”
“Get them. Now!”
“Yes, sir.”
He turned back to Mike. “Now, what else did you see?”
“Wires. Each piece has a wire coming out of it. The wires lead to some sort of box strapped to the underside of the floor.”
“That’s probably the power source, and possibly the igniter. Was there just one, or several?”
“Several of them, sir. Five, I think.”
Janson clamped his eyes shut tight and made a face. “Damn!” He shook his head. “That means there are several circuits. We could stop one and the others could still go off.” He kicked at the floor. “Damn it! That’s just what we didn’t need.”
He turned back to Mike. “See anything else?”
“Each box had another wire coming out of it. It was short, only about three feet, but each wire is connected to a cell phone.”
Janson went white. “They could set these bombs off from anywhere. They don’t even have to be here in the building.” He shook his head again.
“The bomb guys are here, sir.”
“It’s about time.” He looked behind him to see two men, each carrying a toolbox in each hand, rushing toward him.
“What is it? What did you find?”
“Plastic pipe bombs, about twenty of them.”
“Where?”
“Under the platform,” he pointed.
“Okay. First question. Did anyone see anything that could be a timer of any kind?”
Janson looked at Mike, who shook his head. “No, no timers. But they are all connected to several central boxes, and each box is connected to a cell phone.”
“Oh, shit!” the bomb technician responded. “So there is more than one cell phone?”
“Yes. The wires from the pipe bombs connect to central boxes. Five, I think.”
The bomb tech nodded his head and motioned for Mike to continue.
“Then each box is hooked to a cell phone.”
“So there are about five cell phones?”
Mike nodded. “That’s right.”
“Okay. You guys all get back around the corner,” he motioned with his arm, “We’ll get under there and see if there’s a way to disarm them.” He turned to walk over to the platform, then turned back. “Have you evacuated everyone yet?”
Osborn answered. “No. We didn’t want to start a panic, and we didn’t know how bad it might be.”
“How much time do we have?”
Janson checked his watch. “Twenty minutes.”
He turned, quickly walked to the platform and spoke to his partner. “Let’s go under here and have a look.”
Stephen could hear them talking after they crawled under the stage. Everyone else remained quiet, waiting, counting the minutes.
The techs began talking very low, back and forth. The man who seemed to be the leader stuck his head out. “This is quite a job. I don’t know if we can disarm this or not. We’ll give it a try, but since we don’t have much time, we’re going to have to chance not having any decoys or trip safe wires that’ll set the bombs off.”
He nodded and started to scoot back under the platform. “Twenty minutes, huh? I’ll let you know how it looks.” Then he stopped and looked back. “You said you didn’t alert anyone yet?”
“That’s right,” Janson answered.
The tech pressed his lips together, making a face. “There’s a lot of explosives here.” He shook his head. “Better have a plan on how to get everybody out of here.”