Operation Sea Ghost (43 page)

Batman covered the hall as Nolan and Emma hurried over to the wounded man. He’d been shot in the neck and shoulder, but could still talk.

“He has the box,” he said weakly. “It arrived here on overnight delivery two days ago. It was being held for him. But I didn’t think he’d shoot me for it.”

Nolan and Emma pulled the man into the mail room and closed the door.

Then they carefully returned to the stairway and resumed their climb. Seconds later, they’d reached the top floor of the building.

There was a long hallway in front of them, but off to the left was a fire exit door slightly ajar. The light and rain coming in told Nolan this door led to the roof.

Just as they were about to move, the door opened wider and Fahim Shabazz walked in from the roof.

Nolan felt his body tense up. He recognized this guy as the one he’d seen so many times through the M107’s sniper scope, if just for fractions of a second.

The terrorist took two steps and then realized there were three people in camo clothing standing ten feet away from him, two of them carrying assault rifles.

Shabazz wasn’t armed. He put his hands up, as if to say I’m innocent.

But Nolan and Batman weren’t fooled.

They cut him down in a hail of bullets before he could say a word.

Then they ran forward; Shabazz was literally full of holes. There was no need to check if he was dead or not.

They burst out onto the roof in the pouring rain. And there it was, in the northeast corner of the flat roof. The Z-box.

Nolan stopped in his tracks. They all did. This thing that had consumed their lives for what seemed like years was now right here in front of them.

All this time, Nolan had pictured it as a briefcase. A black briefcase. But of course that didn’t make sense.

It looked more like a small footlocker. Not black and shiny like it would be if this were a movie, but painted in typical dull Army olive drab.

And sure enough there was a ‘Z’ carved into its top.

But more important, the key was in the lock and it had been turned.

“It’s activated!” Batman yelled to Nolan.

Nolan ran to it, suddenly soaked by the rain again. A clap of thunder went off over his head, then a flash of lightning.

He slid to a stop in front of the box. It was ticking—strange that it would work after all these years.

Murphy had told Whiskey the only way to stop the Z-box from exploding was to turn it off with the key. But this would have to be done before a minute had elapsed after the box had been turned on. After that, the box would blow up fifteen seconds later, no matter what happened.

But how long ago had Shabazz activated it? There was no way to tell. Nolan knew he had to turn the key anyway.

But the key wouldn’t budge. He tried it again, very aware of the ticking. But it would not move—it was stuck.

There was another clap of thunder above him, along with the crackle of lightning. He was suddenly aware that there were also helicopters overhead. Police copters, TV news copters. He could see searchlights and TV lights cutting through the rain.

All the while, he was trying to turn the key with all his might, but it just wouldn’t move.

He turned back to see Batman and Emma standing right behind him, watching and feeling helpless.

“Run!” he told them. “Get out of here!”

“No way!” they both yelled back at once.

“Go!”
Nolan yelled at them again. “I’m half blind
anyway!”

But they did not move.

Nolan tried the key again—but again no luck.

Then Emma yelled, “Try taking it out and putting it back in again.”

It didn’t make sense, but Nolan did as she suggested. He pulled the key out and then put it back in.

Then he twisted it—and this time it moved.

There was a click and then suddenly, the top of the box sprang open.

And then there was a tremendous flash.…

*   *   *

TWITCH, MURPHY AND Li had stayed back on the docks.

Murphy was so happy that Li was still alive, he wanted to keep her out of harm’s way, no matter what the situation, no matter how much money was involved. She meant that much to him and his PSO.

For his part, Twitch stayed behind because he wasn’t too mobile after using the sharp tip of his makeshift prosthesis to save Li’s life, something she had not stopped thanking him for.

They waited on the pier, under a boat shelter, a coterie of mobbed-up dockworkers keeping an eye on them, keeping them safe. Savoldi and Giuseppe were there as well.

They weren’t exactly obeying Nolan’s last order. Instead they were all just talking and waiting for the other shoe to drop, awaiting the final outcome of the strange chase.

So everyone on the docks saw the tremendous flash of light. It came so quick, and was so bright, there really was no time to cover their eyes.

There was also the sound of a huge explosion in those same few seconds. Yet amidst the confusion and the storm, it was impossible to tell if it had come from an incredibly loud clap of thunder, or something else entirely.

Twitch, Murphy, Li and the two Italian crewmen had immediately put their hands to their eyes anyway, at the same time knowing if they had to think about it, then it was probably too late—if the Z-box had gone off, that is.

But after a few moments of what seemed to be total silence throughout Manhattan, Twitch uncovered his eyes. He looked over at the beautiful Li and saw she was smiling back at him.

“I can see?” he asked.

They all lowered their hands and opened their eyes and it was still raining and thundering, and lightning was still crackling everywhere.

But yes, they could all see.

*   *   *

BACK ON THE roof of the “mosque,” Nolan regained consciousness to find a hectic, confusing scene around him.

He had no idea what had happened. He recalled opening the Z-box, just as it appeared a lightning bolt had hit the roof nearby. Either that or one of the searchlights on one of the helicopters overhead had exploded. In any case, it was a tremendous flash of light.

He remembered seeing Emma, bathed in this light, being thrown backward and hitting her head. He remembered seeing Batman blown right through the roof exit door and back into the hallway.

But the strangest thing was that Nolan remembered seeing all this as if
both
his eyes still worked, as if his eye patch had been blown away. And in that briefest of moments, while the tremendous light was still all around him, he also thought he saw his old friend Crash, standing in front of him, smiling and giving him two thumbs-up.

Shortly after that, Nolan lost consciousness.

Now he was awake again. It had stopped raining and the roof was crowded with NYPD SWAT team members, firefighters, EMTs and
lots
of spooks in bad suits.

Nolan’s vision was still blurry, though his eye patch was back in place. But among the crowd, he recognized one person right away. It was Audette, the CIA agent who’d started the whole Z-box thing. He was with a couple of other people who Nolan was sure were government bomb disposal experts. They were carrying away the now-deactivated Z-box.

As they were walking past him, Nolan overheard a conversation between Audette and two NYPD cops.

One of the cops was saying to Audette, “If there was a bomb here, we need to know that for our report.”

To which Audette replied, “There was no bomb here. Capeesh? No one ever saw a bomb here.”

Then Audette looked down at Nolan, paused a moment, and said, “Good to see you again.”

Then he disappeared into the crowd.

Two EMTs were trying to keep Nolan in a horizontal position at this point, but he fought them off and got to his feet.

He had to find the others.

He located Batman first. He was on a stretcher, out in the hallway, an IV already plugged into his arm. Eyes closed, he was still unconscious.

Nolan grabbed the EMT treating him. “What’s the matter with him?” he demanded to know.

The guy just shrugged. “Most immediate problem is a severe concussion,” he replied. “Long term—a quick saliva test says he’s got some kind of highly unusual toxin poisoning his blood stream. Has he been eating any weird foods lately, wild herbs or something? Was he having hallucinations, things like that? Before he passed out, we found him in the corner talking to someone who wasn’t there.”

Before Nolan could say anything, two more EMTs arrived and wheeled Batman away.

“What about the girl?” Nolan asked a cop nearby. The cop was already drinking a cup of coffee and eating a doughnut.

“The cute blonde?” the cop replied with a wry expression. “I heard she’s got a grade-three concussion.”

“Where is she?” Nolan asked him desperately.

The cop pointed to a room down the hallway. “Right down there,” he said. “But be sure you protect your private parts before going in.”

Nolan ran down the hallway, fighting his way through more cops and firefighters.

He arrived at the doorway expecting to see a gaggle of medical personnel surrounding Emma.

But what he saw instead was Emma, looking like she was in fine shape, sitting on a chair surrounded by a small army of what looked like Hollywood handlers and flunkies preening her. She was drinking a large glass of water—and Nolan noticed it had exactly five ice cubes floating around in it.

Before he could say anything, Emma spotted him and started yelling, “That’s him!
That’s
the guy! I want him arrested. Kidnapping. Holding a person against their will. Destruction of personal property. Arrest him! Now!”

And strangely enough, Nolan
was
arrested. But not by the NYPD and not for kidnapping. Rather two Federal agents had come up behind him and put him in handcuffs.

One said to him: “Philip Nolan, you’re under arrest on charges of violating a military court order barring you from entering the United States. You have to come with us. If you need a lawyer, one will be provided to you…”

Nolan was in shock. He was numb. He just couldn’t fathom what was going on around him.

But as he was being led away he managed one long look back at Emma. The flash of light? Did she hit her head again when she fell? What
the hell
happened?

He didn’t know—he was just heartbroken at the result.

She saw him staring at her and yelled at him: “Just keep walking, you one-eyed freak…”

*   *   *

AFTER THE FLASH, Twitch had fashioned a new prosthesis from materials given to him by the dockworkers. Then he, Murphy and Li found a taxi and headed off for 45 Park Place.

By the time they arrived, a huge crowd had gathered outside. Strangely, it was not because word had gotten around about a possible terrorist incident on the roof, but because people had heard that the missing superstar Emma Simms had miraculously appeared inside.

The three of them were just getting out of the cab when Emma herself emerged from the building, led by a flying squad of handlers. There would be no ambulance for her. A stretch limo had made its way down the street and was waiting to take her away.

Hundreds of cell phone cameras went off as she made her way through the crowd, shielding her face from them, her entourage setting up a phalanx in front of her.

But just as she was about to climb into the limo, she spotted Twitch, Murphy and Li standing in the crowd nearby.

She quickly sized up the beautiful Li, then said to her: “What are you looking at, bitch?”

Then she got in the limo and roared away.

30

NOLAN WAS HELD in the federal lockup in Manhattan for the next three weeks.

In that time he recovered from his many physical wounds and was able to sleep and eat three meals a day.

He’d learned that he’d been arrested so quickly that day because, as one federal officer told him, his picture was on the wall of every FBI office in the country.

He was questioned a dozen times by the Bureau, then the Defense Department investigators, and then by people who never identified themselves, but who he knew were from the CIA.

He said nothing to the FBI or the DoD guys. To the spooks he said only the same two things over and over again: “Where’s our money?” and “And what happened to my team?”

Neither question ever got answered.

He was never given the attorney he’d been promised. He was kept in a cell, alone, twenty-four hours a day.

The only information anyone would tell him was that he would soon face another secret military court, similar to the one that had convicted him years before, and that he was facing a life sentence, and
then
deportation.

In that time, he wasn’t allowed any newspapers, was not allowed to watch any TV. He was given no information on what happened to the other people in Whiskey. He was not allowed visitors. He wasn’t even sure if anyone knew he was there.

*   *   *

ON HIS TWENTY-SECOND day in custody, he was told to pack up his meager belongings, and that he was being transferred to another, more secure facility upstate.

He was given some plain civilian clothes and then two faceless agents led him out to a black van by way of the lockup’s rear entrance.

He was put into the back of the van and driven to a small airport just outside New York City, in Rye, New York.

A small white business jet was waiting there.

The agents undid his handcuffs and turned him over to a pair of other faceless agents standing at the door of the plane.

Nolan climbed aboard, was led to a seat in the otherwise empty passenger cabin and left there alone.

The plane took off, but instead of turning north, toward upstate, it veered east, out over the Atlantic Ocean.

Only then did the cockpit door open and he found himself staring at three familiar faces.

Batman was flying the airplane. Twitch was sitting in the copilot’s seat.

Sitting behind them, smiling widely, was Bobby Murphy, the genius who’d just broken him out of federal custody.

“Sit back and enjoy the ride, Mister Nolan,” Murphy told him. “We’ll have to stop a couple times for fuel, but with any luck, we’ll be in Aden by tomorrow morning.”