Dead Simple (33 page)
Authors: Jon Land
Liz stared at Frawley’s walkie-talkie. “What’s the range of that thing?”
“A few blocks,” Sal Belamo answered. “At the most.”
“
T
he manhole cover! Hurry!”
T
he manhole cover! Hurry!”
Blaine lifted it off and set it down to one side, while Les Carney nervously checked the map yet again, seeing it in a whole new way. Blaine watched him trace the circles with his finger.
“He must have planted the Devil’s Brew along this line. Like playing connect the dots.”
McCracken was still waiting for Kirkland to come back on the line. “And what are our chances of disconnecting the charges?”
“Not very good.”
“Even knowing the locations?”
“Knowing the general sites doesn’t help much underground. There are five thousand miles of sewer lines and interconnected storm drains beneath the city. Our teams could be down there for days, weeks even, and never come across the Devil’s Brew.”
“They’ve got seventy-five minutes,” said McCracken.
T
he chopper slid through the sky, angling for the center of Madison Square Park as Blaine waited with the cell phone pressed against his ear.
he chopper slid through the sky, angling for the center of Madison Square Park as Blaine waited with the cell phone pressed against his ear.
“Tyrell’s orders are for us to place all the gems in airtight hazardous waste containers,” Kirkland explained. “After that we load the containers—and you—onto a boat at Pier Sixty-six.”
“Then what?”
“He hasn’t said yet.”
The chopper was coming in for a landing, its rotor wash spraying Blaine with dirt and debris. “Try this out: He strands me in the harbor and sets the rest of his underwater mines to go off.”
“I’m working on that.”
“Work fast.”
And, crouching, Blaine rushed for the chopper.
L
es Carney swept his flashlight before him, stopping occasionally to shine it upon his explosives sensor, in the hope it might register some sign of Devil’s Brew. The sewer tunnel dipped sharply, and Carney picked up his pace. He realized he was under the city’s West Side sector, slated to be the first to undergo drastic repairs and upgrades, needed to bring the system into the twenty-first century. This particular tunnel, cut off for years, ended in a mass of rubble where back-flow had caused lines to rupture and collapse, the damage so great that the section had been bypassed instead of rebuilt. The resulting effect was that of a cavern or cave.
es Carney swept his flashlight before him, stopping occasionally to shine it upon his explosives sensor, in the hope it might register some sign of Devil’s Brew. The sewer tunnel dipped sharply, and Carney picked up his pace. He realized he was under the city’s West Side sector, slated to be the first to undergo drastic repairs and upgrades, needed to bring the system into the twenty-first century. This particular tunnel, cut off for years, ended in a mass of rubble where back-flow had caused lines to rupture and collapse, the damage so great that the section had been bypassed instead of rebuilt. The resulting effect was that of a cavern or cave.
Carney was under no illusions that the other bomb squad teams would be as successful in their explorations. Before taking over the Department of Transportation, he had been a top assistant with the Department of Environmental Protection, responsible for drafting a twenty-year plan to rebuild New York City’s crumbling sewer system. During those months, this multilevel maze of sewers, storm drains, and abandoned railroad tunnels had become his world—one he knew not only from firsthand experience but also from an exhaustive study of schemas, maps, and blueprints.
Still, New York City’s system of sewers and storm drains had been revamped, renewed, restored, and renovated so often that no map was totally accurate. Some parts of the oldest piping were actually made of wood, and
this section of the West Side, not far from the main laterals, was in the worst disrepair of any. The labyrinthine tunnels ended without warning, having been bypassed or abandoned years before, the levels built atop one another. Somehow Jack Tyrell had managed to find the same mothballed series of train tunnels running beneath the main sewer lines that Carney had selected to house the first stage of the new sanitation infrastructure. No way could Kirkland’s teams ever come to the same conclusion knee-deep in muck with no idea of what lay beneath them. And down here there was no way he could use his cell phone or walkie-talkie to alert them. Their searches for Devil’s Brew, almost certainly, would yield nothing in the few minutes that remained.
this section of the West Side, not far from the main laterals, was in the worst disrepair of any. The labyrinthine tunnels ended without warning, having been bypassed or abandoned years before, the levels built atop one another. Somehow Jack Tyrell had managed to find the same mothballed series of train tunnels running beneath the main sewer lines that Carney had selected to house the first stage of the new sanitation infrastructure. No way could Kirkland’s teams ever come to the same conclusion knee-deep in muck with no idea of what lay beneath them. And down here there was no way he could use his cell phone or walkie-talkie to alert them. Their searches for Devil’s Brew, almost certainly, would yield nothing in the few minutes that remained.
Suddenly an acrid stench assaulted Carney’s nostrils. He proceeded until he nearly gagged. Water was dripping nearby, pooling en route to a slow drop through a fissure in the floor to the cavernous sublayers of Manhattan. Carney lit a match and extended it toward the crack, jumping back when a blue flame sparked and surged upward before he tossed it aside.
He steadied himself, trying not to breathe too deeply, aware he had found one of Tyrell’s methane pockets. He stepped back and started on again, sweeping his explosives sensor, rigged to the specific signature of Devil’s Brew, from side to side across the width of the tunnel.
S
am Kirkland dashed out of the elevator on the ninth floor of the FBI’s New York headquarters at 26 Federal Plaza. His knees ached and cracked, punishment for the pounding they had taken through years of football. They had begun to hurt so much the last few years that he’d had to give up jogging, and now a dash even halfway down the hall left him gasping and damp with sweat by the time he reached the office he was looking for.
am Kirkland dashed out of the elevator on the ninth floor of the FBI’s New York headquarters at 26 Federal Plaza. His knees ached and cracked, punishment for the pounding they had taken through years of football. They had begun to hurt so much the last few years that he’d had to give up jogging, and now a dash even halfway down the hall left him gasping and damp with sweat by the time he reached the office he was looking for.
The spacious office was wall-to-wall machines, so many, arranged so haphazardly, that they looked as though they’d been tossed in and left where they landed. Sitting on the floor amidst them, with his blue-jeaned legs crossed and a charred piece of steel balanced upon them, was a bearded man with a long ponytail. Kirkland didn’t know his real name; like everyone else in the building, he knew him only as “Mr. Peabody,” after the little dog who operated the Wayback Machine with a boy named Sherman on
The Bullwinkle Show
.
The Bullwinkle Show
.
Mr. Peabody was an expert at deciphering codes and frequencies, at linking a bomb to its makers by the unique signature it gave off. He had been a key player in the World Trade Center bombing investigation and the subsequent capture of the terrorist team responsible, thereby preempting far more catastrophic attacks. Some people in the building swore he hadn’t left his office since.
Mr. Peabody looked up nonchalantly from his scrutiny of the chip from
the receiver recovered near the Queensboro Bridge. “This is a hell of a piece of work, let me tell ya. I’d like to dance with the dude who made it.”
the receiver recovered near the Queensboro Bridge. “This is a hell of a piece of work, let me tell ya. I’d like to dance with the dude who made it.”
“I think I can arrange that,” Kirkland told him.
C
hief Logan personally led one of the three convoys speeding toward New York Harbor under massive police security. The diamonds had been loaded into armored cars at each of the banks where they’d been stored and then had been provided with a visible and ominous escort.
hief Logan personally led one of the three convoys speeding toward New York Harbor under massive police security. The diamonds had been loaded into armored cars at each of the banks where they’d been stored and then had been provided with a visible and ominous escort.
According to Logan’s specifications, along all three routes police cruisers covered both flanks, as well as the fronts and rears of the armored cars. Additionally, all side streets had been blocked off and mounted patrol officers stationed at regular intervals to keep bystanders back. Though traffic lights continued to function, as they had all day, the streets had been cleared of all other vehicles, allowing the convoys to streak without delay to their destination at New York Harbor.
M
r. Peabody had taken a seat in one of the chairs now, shoving everything he didn’t need from one of his work stations to the floor.
r. Peabody had taken a seat in one of the chairs now, shoving everything he didn’t need from one of his work stations to the floor.
“Well?” Kirkland asked him, after explaining what they were up against.
“Okay, what I got to do is identify the frequency Sherman’s using to talk to his mines in the harbor and then insert another signal into the code to confuse the son of a bitch.”
Kirkland glanced forlornly at the chip Mr. Peabody had had no luck with yet. “Slim odds at best, in other words.”
Peabody wheeled his desk chair sideways to a different computer. “Hell, no, ’cause the difference this time is I’m gonna be waiting when he sends the signal itself.”
“Then you’re saying you
can
do it?”
can
do it?”
Peabody smirked. “Last time I couldn’t crack a code of any kind was ’cause my Johnny Quest decoder ring came broke out of a cereal box.”
M
cCracken spotted the three armored cars as his helicopter descended toward New York Harbor. Their collective cargo of fifteen billion dollars in diamonds was presumably now inside the concrete storage hangar extending down the slip. There the diamonds would be placed in the toxic waste containers, which would in turn be loaded onto a boat he was prepared to pilot in keeping with Jack Tyrell’s instructions.
cCracken spotted the three armored cars as his helicopter descended toward New York Harbor. Their collective cargo of fifteen billion dollars in diamonds was presumably now inside the concrete storage hangar extending down the slip. There the diamonds would be placed in the toxic waste containers, which would in turn be loaded onto a boat he was prepared to pilot in keeping with Jack Tyrell’s instructions.
Blaine knew he would be safe so long as those containers were on board, the mines switched off until he got to wherever he was instructed to go. But he also knew that as soon as delivery was complete, Tyrell would be free to switch the mines back on, leaving Blaine in the middle of the Hudson River to face the same fate as the flotilla sunk just a few hours before.
It was one fifty-five by the time the chopper touched down and Blaine rushed out toward Chief Logan, who was waving at him from the head of the pier.
O
n the George Washington Bridge, Public Safety Commissioner Bob Corrothers joined Warren Muldoon near the edge of the huge chasm blown in the upper deck. He stopped slightly behind the balding, bespectacled city engineer, who was called “Mr. Magoo” behind his back. Corrothers was astounded to see Muldoon standing fearlessly a shoe length away from the giant hole, while Corrothers himself had all he could do to stop his stomach from quivering as he stood five feet back.
n the George Washington Bridge, Public Safety Commissioner Bob Corrothers joined Warren Muldoon near the edge of the huge chasm blown in the upper deck. He stopped slightly behind the balding, bespectacled city engineer, who was called “Mr. Magoo” behind his back. Corrothers was astounded to see Muldoon standing fearlessly a shoe length away from the giant hole, while Corrothers himself had all he could do to stop his stomach from quivering as he stood five feet back.
“I
see you’ve been busy,” he said lamely.
see you’ve been busy,” he said lamely.
Muldoon kept his eyes on the sky, as if waiting for something to appear over the horizon. “I E-mailed the specifications to my counterpart in Jersey. He managed to locate everything we need, and three freight helicopters have already been loaded.” He checked his watch briefly. “They should be here any minute.”
“Freight helicopters?”
“You’ll see.”
Corrothers grasped a nearby steel support and turned his gaze in the same direction.
B
laine climbed down the short ladder onto the deck of the harbormaster’s patrol boat, a converted cabin cruiser. Along the pier, a platoon of police led by Chief Logan escorted the huge drums filled with diamonds toward the boat.
laine climbed down the short ladder onto the deck of the harbormaster’s patrol boat, a converted cabin cruiser. Along the pier, a platoon of police led by Chief Logan escorted the huge drums filled with diamonds toward the boat.
McCracken’s cellular phone rang.
“It’s one fifty-seven. We’ve got to make this fast,” said Sam Kirkland. “One of my men, dressed as a cop, is going to hand you a homing beacon when the containers of diamonds are lowered onto your boat.”
“Homing beacon?”
“Whatever happens,” Kirkland told him, “this son of a bitch isn’t going to get away.”
“What about the mines?”
“Tyrell’s got to turn them off before he can send you anywhere. We’ll have the frequency jammed from this end before he turns them back on. My man’s also going to give you a second cell phone, programmed with the number I gave Tyrell. Keep the line open on the phone you’ve got now, and put on that earpiece I gave you back at City Hall.”
“Already in place.”
“Okay. I’ll be able to hear what Tyrell says and talk to you the whole time.”
A trio of cops under heavy guard climbed down the ladder and joined Blaine in the boat. The airtight toxic waste barrels, gleaming in the sun,
were placed one at a time on a mechanical platform built into the pier, then they were lowered. The officers reached upward to guide the barrels and then carefully hoisted each of them down to the deck in the boat’s stern. The stern settled a bit. One of the cops extended a hand.
were placed one at a time on a mechanical platform built into the pier, then they were lowered. The officers reached upward to guide the barrels and then carefully hoisted each of them down to the deck in the boat’s stern. The stern settled a bit. One of the cops extended a hand.
“Good luck,” the man said.
Blaine took his hand and felt the homing beacon, encased in a tiny Ziploc bag, pressed into his palm.
“Just stick it on like a stamp,” he instructed, then gave McCracken a second cell phone, which rang as if on cue.
“I was just thinking,” greeted Jack Tyrell.
“That supposed to be some kind of first?”
“Don’t be rude, Mr. Balls. Here we are, a couple old warriors from another generation. You off fighting the same war I was fighting to stop.”
“What’s your point?”
“That we both had our time and now we’re back.”
“Some of us never left.”
“That was my other point,” said Tyrell. “How for a lot of the years in between we were working for the same boss, doing lots of the same shit. Then we run into each other at the Monument. Now here we are, together again. Must be fate.”
“Maybe just bad luck.”
“Question is whose? Kinda funny when you think of it that way.”
“Too many people have died today for me to laugh.”
“I killed more than this in one day before. Difference is today I did it for myself.”
“I know about your son, Jack.”
“You know he’s dead?”
“I know he was a teacher, got killed for no good reason at all.”
“Life sucks, don’t it? Kid plays by the rules, only wants to do good. And some crazy with a machine gun walks into a classroom,
a fucking classroom
, and he takes a bullet in the head. But men like you and me, who never played by the rules, we’re still at it. Makes you wonder.”
a fucking classroom
, and he takes a bullet in the head. But men like you and me, who never played by the rules, we’re still at it. Makes you wonder.”
“Don’t compare him to us.”
“Old soldiers who shoulda been put down—that’s what we are. We stick around ’cause we don’t know anything else. My kid tries to do some good and gets dead because of it. Dies with a piece of chalk in his hand, not a gun. I goddamn had to do something.”
“The guy who killed him’s already dead, Jack,” Blaine said, realizing Tyrell must have bought the story given to the press that mentioned nothing about Liz Halprin’s culpability.
“But not the society that spawned him. That’s where you and I part ways, Mr. Balls. You’re part of the system that’s gotten all fucked up. We’re both outcasts, fuck-ups in our own way. We’re from the same time, created
by the same war, except on different sides. It’s like we’re twins. I’m just willing to go farther to set things right again.”
by the same war, except on different sides. It’s like we’re twins. I’m just willing to go farther to set things right again.”
“How does blowing up a city set things right again?”
“Gotta make people take notice before they take action, ’cause no one believes in anything anymore. Well …”
In the command center, Jack Tyrell stopped long enough to glance at the men working their posts, every single eye upon him. They had all traveled with him and Midnight Run for some period after time served in the SDS, the Weatherman movement, or the Black Panthers. Restless men who had gone into hiding but never stopped missing the life that set them apart.
“ … we believed,” he continued, “and it cost us our identities, sometimes even our names and faces. But we stopped a war. Today nobody out there can even stop a clock.”
“There’s no war to stop today, Tyrell.”
“Yes, there is, Mr. Balls, and I’m declaring it. I’m declaring war on this whole damn country. You think it ends here, today? Bullshit. This is just the beginning. I’m gonna be visiting plenty of other cities. Put the whole damn country on notice, make everyone wonder where I’m headed next. Gonna get so people barricade their own doors until I get what I want.”
“And what’s that?”
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