The Schwarzschild Radius (49 page)

The pain in her shredded feet now forgotten, Olivia got up and yelled until she got someone’s attention.

“Call 911! Get me out of here!”

here was a two-hour stopover in Vancouver, then the twenty-hour flight to New York continued. Achara had spent the last eighteen hours memorizing the data sheet that her sister had sent her. It was two full pages of information to get her past Immigration once she arrived. She was now Olivia Wallen, American.

These last few hours had been the happiest in her life. She had been shattered when she got to the departure gate and found no one. She ran down the boarding ramp and screamed at the flight attendant who was closing the cabin door. Achara expected one more obstacle, but when she showed her boarding pass, she was simply told, “Fourteen C, to your left.”

Those were the most wondrous words she had ever heard. There really was a seat for her.

“We will be arriving in fifteen minutes at John F. Kennedy International Airport. The local time is 5:15 p.m.”

Now the old fear came back.

She looked down at the faint outline of land below.

This was America. For the twentieth time, she checked her data sheet and passport. Now she had another document―the declaration form. What would they ask her? Would they detain her? Would they send her back because she had an accent? Or would she go to Guantanamo? She preferred Guantanamo to Thailand.

The plane touched ground and maneuvered to the hangar. Achara told herself to act normal. There were many Asians on this flight and she would blend in with them. She followed everyone up the ramp and then she saw the signs for Immigration. There was a ladies’ room and she ducked into it. Her hands were moist, her breathing irregular. She washed her face and arms and combed her hair with her fingers.

Out came the data sheet again. Going over every point, she got to the instructions about what to do once the plane landed.

Get on the line for U.S. Citizens at the immigration area. The officer will say hello. Say hello and smile. Answer all questions calmly and be friendly. Here are some questions they may ask:

How long were you in Thailand? Tell them.

What was the purpose of your trip? Visiting relatives.

Where did you stay in Thailand? Give a relative’s address.

Do you have anything to declare? This means did you bring anything illegal into the country.

Where were you born? Thailand.

They may test you with a few questions such as:

Who was the sixteenth president of the United States? Abraham Lincoln.

How long have you lived in the United States? Seven years.

What are the 2 baseball teams in New York? The Yankees and the Mets. You are a Yankee fan. And you hate the Boston Red Sox.

What high school did you attend? Northport High.

What is your home address? 114 North Cyrus Street, East Northport New York 11731

What is your home phone number? 631-555-1756. That’s my cell phone in case they call.

As a last resort, the instructions read:
If they don’t believe you and detain you, say to them “I request political asylum.” Once you say that, they can’t deport you right away. They have to give you a date to appear before a judge. By then, we will be able to help you. So stay calm.

One more review of the bio and she went out the door to face the immigration officers.

The line went quickly. Most of the passengers who were called up stayed no more than one minute in front of the officer. That made her feel better. Her breathing was acting up again and she took long draws of air. She just needed to act normally for one minute and she was done.

The officer motioned her to step up. She handed him her passport which he swiped through the reader. He said, “How are you today?”

“Very good, thank you.” She smiled.

“What were you doing in Thailand?”

“Visiting relatives.”

“What part of Thailand did you visit?”

“Chiang Mai.”

“How long were you there?”

“Two week.”

“How long have you lived in the US?”

“Seven years.”

“You go to school?”

“Northport High School.”

He was typing something on a keyboard.

“Do you have anything to declare?”

“No.”

“Please step over here, miss.” He hadn’t told the others to do this.

A female agent came over and said, “I need to inspect your bag, Ma’am.”

Achara handed it over.

Half a chocolate bar and the vihara spilled out. The agent felt the sides of the knapsack for hidden pockets.

“This is all you brought with you all the way from Thailand?”

“My bag was rob at the airport.” Her face was no longer calm. They knew something was wrong.

“And how old are you?”

“Sixteen.” She was getting ready to request asylum, but couldn’t remember the words.

“Who will be waiting for you at the airport?”

“My sister, I hope.” She was trying to remember the exact words for requesting asylum as though it needed the preciseness of an incantation to succeed.

And just like that, the officer handed back her bag and passport.

“Thank you,” said the officer. “Welcome home.”

cKenna and the swat team entered the tunnel from the One Hundred and Forty-seventh Street side. Even he hadn’t been this deep in the bowels of the city. With the map given to them by the Transit Authority guy, the team descended three levels and got to the abandoned tracks that Olivia had described: dead rats; bats on the ceilings, dropping shit on top of them, covering the ground with it. They had passed a couple of homeless people one level up. Christ, how can anyone live down here?

Olivia said Sonia had been shot through the head. On the unlikely chance she was still alive, a medical team was waiting on the surface. She should be a few hundred yards from this spot. The air reeked of urine and dead rodents. They all donned their night vision goggles as the light died off. The medical folks said Brazos couldn’t have gone far with that amount of insulin injected into him if he was even alive. McKenna wasn’t taking any chances. The six men walked along the walls in full body armor, staggered, so one high-power bullet wouldn’t take out multiple targets. There was something lying on the tracks up ahead. McKenna could make out the shape of a girl. Sonia lay face down. He rushed to her and turned her over. She was dead.
Damn.
They picked up their pace. With any luck, Brazos would be lying on the tracks just as dead.

Swenson pointed to drag marks on the ground and footprints. The line of dragging feet ended. This is where Rachel had struggled with Brazos and Olivia escaped. There was the Coke bottle Rachel used.

No killer.

“Okay, boys, he’s alive. Watch out for anything that looks like booby traps. He’s trained.”

The team advanced block by block toward the collapsed end of the tunnel leading to the hideout below the Major Deegan Expressway. When they got there, they stopped.

It was the perfect place for an ambush. Only one man at a time could pass through the opening. It wasn’t a good place for a concussion grenade, either, as the whole tunnel complex could come crashing down. One man got up and shone a flashlight through the opening. He gave the all clear and lowered himself. The others followed. When they were all on the other side, they advanced toward the execution chamber.

On the ground there were more rats, hypodermic needles, and condoms, but no sign of the animal they were searching for. The door of the chamber was closed. One man tried the handle. Locked. Only Brazos could have done that. The safeties came off. The tunnel was much sturdier here and closer to the surface. One officer attached detonation cord to the handle. The explosion rocked dust and loose mortar from the ceiling and the men poured into the hideout. The lights were out, but the night vision goggles revealed a warren of chambers. A storage room full of rice and canned goods. Another with ammo, grenades, tear gas, a shotgun. Enough to make a stand. There was a metal X on the wall. A table with restraints. When all the rooms were secured, they found a light switch connected to a series of car batteries. Bloodstains everywhere. It was a slaughterhouse. Video and lighting equipment to record it all.