Undercover with the Hottie (Investigating the Hottie) (21 page)

At nine, we were despondent. The President hadn't taken this seriously. She didn't trust the AM, and she didn't want to forgo the opportunity for a sense of international community as we rang in the New Year.

The coffee cups, Coke cans, and empty Red Bull cans were piling up around us. “That's everything,” Agent Mathews said. “We've listened to all the audio.”

“Not exactly,” Grandma said. “We've had fifty more calls in the last hour with the help of those chargers.”

We split them up and got started.

On my second call, my breath caught. It was the voice. I switched to the audio from the AM and then back to my call. “Oh my God! I've got it. It's the voice. It's him.”  I reached down and yanked out my headphones so everybody in the room could hear. “It's him, isn't it?”

“We got him,” Grandma said. She went into the call on her computer and traced the phone. “It's Jackson Durwood.”  She kept typing. “He is a high-ranking advisor to the Secretary-General.”

“Track him down,” Nic ordered.

“Uh-oh,” Agent Choo said a few minutes later. “He's with the Secretary-General tonight. He's at Times Square now, and he is standing with the President, the Chancellor, and the Secretary-General.”

“We need to get the President on the phone,” Nic said.

We couldn't reach her.

“What now?” Christie asked. “We can't take a chance that we'll tip him off. He's right there. He could take at least one of them out even without a weapon. We can't risk it.”

“We need to find the missile first. If we take Durwood down first, they could go through with their plan to fire the missile,” Grandma said.

Nic was reading from his screen. “The team's best interpretation of the chatter is that they are firing a missile on Times Square. Durwood likely has a tracker so they can pinpoint the world leaders. In light of the audio, it makes sense that they would want a precision strike.”

“Did you find anything about the Empire State Building?” I asked. “Bankwell mentioned it earlier.”

“The observation deck is open every day of the year,” Agent Choo said. “They don't close until two in the morning.”

“Why risk the security there?” Christie asked.

“To make a statement,” Grandma said.

“Is there any way to confirm? We only have one shot at this point,” Nic said.

“We can scan the heat signatures with our equipment on the roof,” Agent Mathews said.

“We have an unimpeded view of the Empire State Building,” Agent Choo confirmed.

“You two take who you need to run the equipment,” Nic said. “Everybody else, suit up. We don't have time to waste.”

Grandma reached for the phone, pressed some buttons, and said,  “We're going to need a drone circling the Empire State Building.”  She frowned. “Panic is irrelevant at this point. Yes, sir.”  She hung up. “They aren't going to let us put anything in the air because of the event at Times Square.”

“Let's go.” Nic stood. “We'll get confirmation on the way, and if they aren't there... I don't know how we'll track them down. The President, Secretary-General, and Chancellor will be live on one of three stages at Times Square at ten-fifty. They'll speak and add their wish to the confetti right before the show breaks for local news. We have until then to take down the terrorists with the missile and get our teams at Times Square to take out Durwood.”

Chapter Nineteen

We suited up in the body armor, grabbed our backpacks, and set out for the Empire State Building on Vespas. Seriously. We needed to navigate through traffic and road blocks. The five of us drove the scooters through the cold dark streets. Sure they were black, but still, Will and I shared a look.

“I guess I don’t know how to ride a Harley anyway,” he said.

I smiled. “Let's scoot on over there and kick some butt.”   

“I didn't realize these things went this fast,” I said a few minutes later. Nobody heard me over the noise of the five engines.

Nic led us right up next to the door when we arrived at our destination. We parked and jumped off.

“They identified two suspicious figures on the seventy-ninth floor. We'll head that way. Oh, wait,” he said. He reached into the Vespa storage compartment and handed us each a hat reading, “Happy New Year,” and a noisemaker. “The building is still open to the public. So act like we're celebrating.”  We put on the hats and filed into the lobby.

“We look like idiots,” Will mumbled.

“You'll get used to it,” I said.

We took the elevator up to the seventieth floor after Nic disconnected a few wires so no one would know where we were going.

After we stepped off, Nic said, “Will, Amanda, and Grandma, take the stairs up. Christie and I will go to eighty, which is a public floor and go down.”

The doors closed and the two of them headed for the higher floor. “They know they are going to beat us there, right?” I said.

“I think that's their plan,” Will grumbled.

“Have your weapons ready,” Grandma commanded. “They may accidentally flush the terrorists down the stairs toward us.”

We went to the stairs and started climbing.

Grandma had an earpiece but we didn't have one. After five flights of stairs, she stopped and listened. “They've identified another heat signature on seventy-four. We need to check that one out on our way.”

“Good, at least we'll get a piece of the action,” I said. “Even if the action is only a janitor who is finishing up late.”

Grandma didn't seem any more optimistic about us finding the bad guys.

When we got to the door to the seventy-fourth floor, she stopped us. “We take every threat seriously. We're going into office seventy-four hundred. You two go left down the hall. Walk slowly. It will open into a lunchroom area. The signature is there. They just confirmed that it hasn't moved. I'll go into the next suite over and double back. Don't move in before I'm in position. Even if it is a perfectly innocent janitor. Do not move in.”

“Got it,” we said.

She handed us each an earpiece.

“We could have had these the whole time?” I asked, as I fit it in my ear.

“Don't complain,” she said. Then she moved away from us.

Will and I pulled our guns out of our backpacks. We'd each trained extensively, but having them in our hands, in a dangerous situation, was unnerving. These guns had two triggers, one for a dart, and one for a bullet.

“Don't shoot a janitor,” Will whispered.

“Don't shoot me, moron,” I answered.

I picked the lock in a millisecond, and Will opened the door. Then I moved through it, careful to watch for danger. As my heart raced, I realized I was much more comfortable with the undercover, pretend to be someone else, lying and trickery part of spying than I was with the  holding a gun and could kill or be killed part.

Will moved past me and stepped into the hall, carefully scanning for danger. We continued that way down the hall, and then waited outside the break room for Grandma.

I was waiting for her to speak in the earpiece, but it turned out that we saw her when she was in position. She held up her fingers in a three, two, one, and we moved around the corner.

Standing by the window, a man and a woman were loading a missile the size of a Roman candle into a launcher. Shocked, I stumbled.

We needed to take them down before they got that loaded. They were distracted, and it would take them longer to reach their other weapons. The woman saw me a split second before I took my shot. She looked from me and Will to Grandma with scorn and didn't stop with the missile.

I hit the button on my gun to launch the tranquilizer dart and aimed for the woman's fleshy upper arm. It struck her just as a dart from Grandma's gun hit the man in the neck. We continued to move forward, rushing the pair. I smacked into the woman as Grandma punched the man backward with the weapon she'd shown me earlier.

They let loose of the missile and launcher. The missile hadn't been locked in, and it moved out of the launch chamber as the launcher flew through the air. She was the woman, I realized, who'd help kidnap Christie. Had she shot the driver as well?

The pair had already attached a suction glass cutter to the window, ready to cut a hole to launch the missile. As she hit the window and crashed back against me, Will moved into the space we'd vacated and grabbed the missile with one hand and the launcher with the other.

Will moved back through the space and out of the way. He set the missile and launcher on a table and drew the gun that he'd tucked into the front of his jeans when he'd needed his hands free.

The woman lost consciousness, but the man had some fight in him. He easily weighed twice what the woman did. And at least twice what Grandma weighed. I lowered the woman to the floor, keeping her from hitting her head hard enough for a brain injury but not being quite so gentle enough that she wouldn't have a lump there.

Then I turned to help Grandma. She hit him again with the punch weapon. He crashed against me and knocked the breath out of me. I went down on top of the woman's prone body, and the man's lights finally went out as he landed on me. Did it make me a bad person that I took some glee in the fact that there was far more weight on the terrorist woman than on me? Either way, I couldn't take a breath.

“Grandma, no!” I heard Nic shout. Then the man flew up and off me and Christie helped me stand.

“Can you breathe?” she asked.

I managed a shallow inhalation.

Christie helped me over to a chair while Nic slapped handcuffs on the man and Grandma on the woman.

Will lowered his weapon. “Are we sure they were alone?”

“Yes,” Nic said. “The activity on the higher floor was an administrative assistant and his girlfriend making use of his boss's office.”

“I could go my whole life without seeing that,” Christie said.

Nic held his finger to his earpiece. “We have the hostiles subdued. Have the team at Times Square move in. And send a munitions team up to seventy-four. We have a new generation missile here, and I don’t want to take any risks.”

My breaths came more easily, and I was able to relax. I needed one of those Grandma sucker-punch weapons.

The munitions team reached us as Nic got word that Durwood had been apprehended without any problems.

“It's quarter til eleven,” Christie said. “We can put you two in a car to the party. Then we'll debrief you after midnight.”

“That's nice, Christie,” I said. I saw that Will and Nic were talking to each other across the room.

“I was a teenage girl once,” she said with a shrug.

Will held out his arm, and I walked over to take his hand.

“Leave your backpacks here,” Nic said. “Just take your phones.”

We took off our backpacks and our earpieces.

We walked past a dozen GASI agents on our way to the elevators.

Will held my hand. “We did it,” he said.

“We caught the bad guys,” I agreed.

“And we did it in time for New Year's Eve,” he said.

“Are we taking the Vespas?” I asked, knowing he'd say no.

We stepped out of the elevator and made our way across the lobby. “No way,” he said. “Nic got us a car.”

When we walked out, the only car at the entrance was a stretch limousine. “Where's our car?” I asked.

“This is it.”  

The driver jumped out and opened the door to the limo. Will helped me in.

“Nic got us a limo?”

“I think it happened to be here, but we have it long enough to get back to the loft.”

“Who's is it?” It didn't look like a rental limo.

“He wouldn't tell me.”

The window between us and the driver lowered. “I have the address,” the driver said. “You may want to avail yourselves of some of the sparkling cider in the mini fridge.”

Will found the bottle and two glasses. He unscrewed the cap and poured some for each of us. Then we rode through the streets of New York, gazing up through the moon roof and sipping the bubbly fruit juice.

When the limo pulled up at the loft, I didn't want to get out.
Think of Sidney
, I told myself.
Think of Sidney.
 

The driver opened the door for us. “Take the glasses and the bottle,” he said.

“Really?” I asked. “Thank you. And thank you for the ride.”

We watched the limo as it drove down the street.

“Did that license plate say what I thought it said?” I asked.

“It said JT.”

“Yeah, that's what I thought.”

“Probably a coincidence. Lot's of people could have those initials.”

“Yeah.”

We continued to stare until the chill began to penetrate.

“Do you think Nic asked him for permission?” I asked.

“No clue,” Will said.

“We need to get inside,” I said. “Your date is waiting.”

He smiled at me. “She's a nice girl.”

“Yes, she is.”

We dropped the glasses and bottle at our loft.

“Should we change?” I asked.

“I'm not going to,” he said. “We're already late.”

“Then I won't either.”

When we got to the loft next door, Sidney answered the door. She was decked out in a sparkly top and velvet skirt.

“You look great,” I said.

Sidney looked shyly up at Will.

“You do look great,” he said.

She blushed as we went inside. They had the news on the television with the volume off and subtitles on. For once, the guys weren't playing games. Leah waved at us. She was dancing with that Matt guy who had the house with the art gallery.

“Did you want to dance?” Will asked Sidney.

She nodded. “Yes.”

He led her away to dance, and I decided I only had so much nice in me. I didn’t need to stand there like a wallflower and watch them.

Logan detached himself from a group of girls and came over to me. “Hey, stranger,” he said. “Want anything to eat or drink?”

“No. I'm good.”

“Then how do you feel about dancing?”

“I could dance,” I said.

He held out his hand and led me to the dance floor. “You missed the big moment with the President and the UN Secretary-General. They dropped in their wishes, just like we did the other day at the Visitor's Center.”