Quake (27 page)

As the sound of sirens neared the ruins of Butler library, Nick became even more convinced that Alivi did not intend to let him or his daughter live. Moreover, it didn't even appear as though he planned on living himself. Though he was well armed for an individual, he couldn't hope to stand against the responding law enforcement that would appear with the new day, eager to demonstrate to New Yorkers that they were down but not out. If that's who was on the way, Nick thought. They could just be ambulance and fire. Still, there was no doubt that Alivi could be escaping right now instead of sitting here within range of advancing sirens.

And his next move only cemented Nick's concerns.

Alivi put the smartphone on speaker and a representative answered, “World News Network, how may I route your call?” Nick thought that Alivi was going to identify himself and was sure the network would laugh in his face, not believing it was him. But the terrorist instigator had not grown his organization into one of the most feared extremist movements on the planet by not knowing how to manipulate the media. He was able to lessen the Middle-Eastern accent from his voice and pose as a bystander (Brian Watson, even gave a return phone number, never mind that it belonged to an earthquake victim) reporting that he saw the escaped Alivi in Butler Library on the Columbia University campus—with hostages. He said that the terrorist is asking for live microphones and cameras in order to make some kind of statement.

He's staging his own spectacular death finale,
Live on Infidel TV
with your host, Feroz Saeed Alivi!

Nick didn't know what, but he had to do something. Once Alivi had an audience, he'd make Nick parrot his lines and then probably blow them all up live on camera.

He appraised his chances of a frontal assault. His foe was well armed and could easily fell Nick with the assortment of weapons at his disposal, but he allowed himself to be frequently distracted with the smartphone—making media calls (a sign that things were ever so slowly improving, Nick thought—outgoing cell calls were again possible), trying out camera angles, even snapping pictures of himself and then adjusting his looks as best he could, searching for the carefully cultivated image that would best enable him to disseminate his twisted message of hate.

But of course there was still the damned grenade. If it wasn't for that, he might consider bum-rushing Alivi from here, catching him by surprise. He pictured him looking up from his ill-gotten iPhone in surprise, struggling to pull his pistol as it snagged in his belt....

But Nick knew that was fantasy. Reality was a monofilament line tied to Alivi's belt loop, which meant he only had to fall backwards and . . .
welcome to the boom-boom room
. Nick caught a glimpse of the line a couple of feet off to his right as it passed him on its way into the stack cave, on its way to Lauren's head, where it would blow away every thought she'd ever had of him only to provide lunch break fodder for a world audience hungry for sensational news.

He heard the first of the vehicular sirens driving up to the edge of the Butler rubble field. It would take them time to locate their exact position and make their way up here, but not much. Not with Alivi coordinating things on the damned phone.

And then they heard a voice. But not one of a rescuer or media person.

“Mr. Dykstra? Are you up there?”

That voice belonged to Ray Knowles, whom Nick flash-processed in his mind as having gotten scared he'd been gone so long and shouted up to ask where he was. Something inside Nick's brain told him, this was it, this is your gift, don't let it go to waste.

Everything seemed to dissolve into slow motion.... Alivi turning his head to the right to look for the source of the voice; simultaneously drawing his pistol in what was clearly a smooth, practiced movement.... Instinctively firing his weapon toward the phantom threat, a threat he could not know was no such thing.

Nick saw the fishing line sparkle once in his flashlight beam and he lunged for it.

Do not pull it the wrong way!

His two hands converged around the monofilament and he yanked on it
toward
him and Lauren, so that it ripped away from Alivi's belt loop, the proverbial big one that got away. Nick's body tensed and clenched so tightly for a moment while he waited to see if he had done the wrong thing—if the grenade would somehow explode anyway—that for a second he thought he was having a heart attack. But when nothing happened—no explosion came—Nick mentally rejoiced and his muscles loosened.

He sprang back up from the floor to track his captor's whereabouts. Alivi had fired off a few pistol rounds down into the first level without aiming at anything in particular, but as soon as he realized the grenade line had been severed, he whirled and went for Nick with his arsenal. He popped off one-handed pistol rounds while removing the automatic rifle slung over his shoulder and moving it into a ready position.

Nick knew that to try to go for Lauren now would be suicidal. He had to somehow take out Alivi first, or it was just a matter of minutes before he and Lauren were on the receiving end of Alivi's AK-47.

Nick ducked behind the nearest fallen stack.
Sorry, Alivi, turns out I couldn't make that guest spot on your show after all. Rain check?

Nick really cursed himself for dropping his gun now.
How am I going to take this guy out?
He slipped on something smooth and picked up a large hardcover book. Deciding it might help, he shoved it into his pants so that it covered his lower back. Cheap body armor. Then he picked up another and did the same for the front. It limited his motion somewhat, but he thought the extra protection was worth it.

Alivi was letting his guns do the talking for him, releasing quick bursts of controlled automatic weapons fire followed by the occasional pistol shot. Nick recognized that he couldn't hold this position for long. He ran around to the far side of Stack Mountain.

Alivi had found that low side passage into the cave, so maybe he hadn't discovered the high road? As he began to climb, Nick sure hoped not. He scaled the stacks much faster this time, knowing that if Alivi were to walk around while he was in mid-ascent, his back turned, he wouldn't stand a chance.

“I was looking forward to our broadcast, counselor. I said that you and your daughter would be released unharmed once we concluded. What are you afraid of?”

Nick had paused to take in his adversary's words. He noted that they came from the left. When he resumed his upward scramble, he put a bit too much force into his lead-off step and the stack moved, throwing him off balance.

He fell, bouncing off the corners of stacks as he went, until the scattering of books on the floor broke his fall. Nick was up on his feet in a split second, blood dripping from a couple of different places, turning to the left to see if Alivi had already rounded the corner.

Not yet.

He threw himself back into the stack climb, truly worried he wouldn't make it to the top before Alivi turned the corner and sprayed him down with his AK.
Don't fall, don't fall, don't fall . . .

He reached the most difficult section of the ascent at around the halfway mark. Had to get a leg up on a slight overhang and pull himself over.

Don't fall.

But he executed the maneuver in one fluid motion and was on his way skyward, clawing his way back to the top of the stack mountain. He had just reached the opening at the top and was preparing to drop through when he heard Alivi's heavy footfalls, running.

“Infidel!”

Nick heard the clatter of automatic weapons fire and he dove headfirst without consideration for his landing into the irregular aperture at the top of the stack mount. He was chased by weapons fire on the way in, and when he hit the ground, landing hard on an elbow, flakes of wood were still raining down on him.

His second trip here, he knew the way and rolled to his feet and off to his right.

Lauren!

He reached her and found she was still lying in the same position, unmoving, the grenade still next to her head.

Was she alive?

But then he saw the shallow rise and fall of her chest and concentrated once more on their attacker, no doubt now heading for the way he knew how to get inside the stack cave.

It's time for
Escape from Stack Mountain
, honey.

He heard something else, too, in the distance. Voices. More sirens. People were coming—he wasn't sure if they were cops or fire or a media team—but at least somebody was coming. He was under no illusion, though, that the presence of others would dissuade Alivi from committing the murders he'd come here with every intention to carry out.

He looked quickly about the confines of the enclosed space. What could he defend himself with against Alivi? The books he'd wedged into his pants bothered him now, and he removed them, letting them drop to the floor.

What's that?

He picked one back up and took a closer look at it. A close grouping of three bullet holes sat in the upper left corner, where it had been positioned over his lower back. Nick picked the books back up again and shoved them back into place in his pants. As he bent down to pick up the second book, his eyes alighted on the grenade, still nested within its circle of books, its tether to Alivi now broken.

Nick reached out and carefully plucked up the palm-sized explosive by his daughter's head. Quickly, he examined the pin mechanism while he heard Alivi running around the outside of his inner sanctum.
Just pull on that ring, where the leftover string's already tied . . .

Quickly!

He needed to get into position fast. If he allowed Alivi to get inside here with him, they would be slaughtered like the proverbial fish in a barrel. Nick scuttled over to the low side passage and hunkered down to one side of it. He heard no more trash talk from Alivi but he could hear him running this way.

Nick considered his options. He could wait at the far end of the passage, so that as soon as Alivi reached it he'd tackle him with the grenade in hand, blowing them both into oblivion, but saving Lauren. . . . That outcome would be acceptable to Nick, but all Alivi had to do to foil it was to spit some fire from his automatic into the tunnel before he actually stepped inside. And even if he succeeded, that still left Lauren lying in here unaccompanied. What if no one found her for hours more; she could die of thirst, hungry and alone....

Nick had always aimed for the best possible outcome—in his court cases, in his life, and here, too, he decided, there would be no exception.

He heard the terrorist's footsteps slow as he approached the tunnel. Nick had a plan, but he prayed for just a little background noise to make it work. He hefted the grenade in his right hand and prepared for a bowling-style shot. He lined up the path he would try to get it to take down the passageway to reach Alivi at the other end when he stuck his Allah-loving nose inside.

Baby needs a new pair of shoes....

But then he flashed on actually buying Lauren's first pair of shoes, marveling at how tiny they were, and he almost lost it....

Then a clamor of activity brought him back, reminding him at the same time that it was exactly what he needed. He heard new voices—several of them—calling up here. They were still on the first level by the sound of it, and no doubt would find plenty of distractions down there, including a very distraught Ray Knowles.

They would not get up here in time to help him, but in a way they already had. He did not want Alivi to hear the grenade rolling towards him. Nick took the most careful aim of any type of physical shot he'd ever attempted in his life.

Feroz Saeed Alivi stuck the barrel of his AK-47 into the stack tunnel just before the hand grenade rolled to the opening. Nick shrank back into the stack cave and covered his ears. For one heart-stopping moment, it seemed like the grenade wasn't going to detonate.

Game over, Dykstra, it's a dud. Or possibly even a fake that he used to control you with.

He had begun to think about how he would have to try to grab Alivi's gun when he started to enter the cave, and how overwhelmingly likely it was that he would lose that kind of hand-to-hand combat with the hardened terror fighter . . .

. . . when the grenade exploded.

Nick double-checked that Lauren's seat belt was securely fastened, even though it had been snapped into place by one of the flight crew medics. One seat behind them in the helicopter was Ray Knowles, who, like Lauren, had also been given immediate first aid before being prepped for flight to a hospital in New Jersey. Nick put an arm around his daughter as they prepared for liftoff. He looked out the window at what remained of Butler Library, now crawling with emergency personnel searching the rubble for survivors in the midday light.

One person they wouldn't be helping was Feroz Saeed Alivi. The terror leader had been killed instantly by his own grenade after Nick's well-placed toss.

Nick had already done a couple of media interviews about his showdown with the terror fugitive, but the media fire had been dampened by the competing story up at Indian Point, where the nail-biting tale of a handful of plant workers and everyday New Yorkers who had saved the city was only now coming to light. Nick had already seen Mendoza being interviewed in the wake of the tense series of events, all smiles and thumbs-ups, and it had brought a huge grin to his own face.

There was one thing Nick had hid from the media, though, and as the helicopter lifted off, he removed it from his pocket.

Alivi's appropriated cell phone. Nick fully intended to return it to whomever it belonged to, or, if that person was no longer alive, to their family. But there was something that didn't belong there. Something no one but him needed to see.

Nick found the movie file Alivi had taken of him reciting his propaganda. He couldn't help but watch it now, couldn't help but see how scared he looked, even though at the time he'd thought his acting job was worthy of an Oscar. In the background was the pile of book stacks that Lauren had been trapped beneath for so long.

He looked at her now as their craft banked sharply toward the Hudson. She was almost asleep but he wanted her to see this. He tapped her shoulder and pointed out the window. They looked down on Columbia, only a few of its buildings still standing.

“I understand completely if you want to go to Stanford, now, honey.”

Lauren slowly looked away from the heart-wrenching view growing smaller beneath their window. She stared into his eyes and shook her beautiful, bandage-wrapped head.

“No. I've made up my mind. I'm going to Columbia, Dad. I've already spoken to Caroline Reignier about it when she visited me in the medical tent. They've already got possibilities for a temporary campus picked out—in New York—while the rebuilding goes on. This school is going to be reborn better than ever, and I'm going to be reborn right along with it. No more running away. My place is here, with you, with Ray—he's still going, too—we talked about it.” She paused in her declarations to gaze down at what remained of the celebrated skyline while they buzzed over Manhattan. “And with the city.”

Nick told her that was more than fine with him, and he watched her settle into a comfortable sleep.

He turned his attention back to the view of Manhattan. They were flying by One World Trade Center now, miraculously still standing proud, the spectacular monument of rebirth from the episode that had taken Lauren's mother from them—9/11. Lauren was right. The city would be reborn, stronger than ever, and they right along with it.

As Nick looked over at the majestic freedom tower—eye level with the very same airspace where his wife had perished all those years ago—he picked up the smartphone again, Alivi's video of him still on the screen.

They had rebuilt their life since 9/11, after all; they would rebuild from this as well.

Recognizing that his journey was different from that of his daughter's, Nick rethought the phrase in his head.
He
would rebuild from this, too.

Thankfully, Feroz Saeed Alivi would not get that chance, unless there really was a heaven with endless virgins waiting for him. Assistant U.S. Attorney Nick Dykstra hit the smartphone's delete button and looked down at the tiny screen.

The button's text read “Confirm Deletion?”, but to Nick's mind it might as well have read, “Move On With Your Life?”

As One WTC faded from view, Nick clicked “OK,” and promptly fell asleep in his seat alongside his daughter.