Airtight (26 page)

Holland looked towards the outskirts of the crowd, and saw Chief Brus and his men standing there, waiting. They seemed ludicrously undermanned to get this crowd to do anything, and Holland silently cursed the decision of the Governor not to send in the state police, and the courts to delay issuing the evacuation order.

“We must be law-abiding. We must not trespass on someone else’s land, just as we must prevent them from polluting our air and water. We will get our justice, but we will do so lawfully, and safely.”

There was a murmuring at that, as the crowd was not sure where he was going but concerned by what they heard.

“To that end, I am directing Chief Tony Brus to help you conduct an organized and peaceful evacuation of this property.”

In an instant, the cheers had turned to grumbling and booing. Alex, surprised by what she had heard, was shaking her head no.

“I ask your cooperation in doing this.” He motioned to the media cameras. “Let’s show the world what Brayton is all about.”

Brus and his men slowly advanced into the crowd. They were not wearing riot gear, nor carrying weapons. There would be time to regroup and get all that later, if the situation called for it.

It didn’t take long for them to feel the pulse of the crowd, and know that much stronger measures were going to be required.

Holland had lost them, and all hell was going to break loose.

The drive to Brayton should take an hour and a half,

so I told Emmit he needed to make it in an hour. Along the way I tried to reach Alex Hutchinson, Edward Holland, and the Brayton Chief of Police, to no avail. They were all at the rally on the disputed land.

If I was right, it was Ground Zero.

When I finally gave up on the phone, Emmit asked, “You want to tell me what the hell is going on?”

“The truth? I don’t know, not for sure. But I know what I’m afraid of.”

“What’s that?”

“The explosives and timers that Gallagher did not find in Rhodes’s room. According to Gallagher, it was way more than Rhodes could have needed for blowing up guesthouses or cars.

“And I think there’s a good chance that the detonations are going to be tonight. Rhodes was supposed to be on a plane out of here at nine o’clock. I’m thinking that he was waiting to make sure that everything went the way it was supposed to and then he’d leave.”

“Then what’s the target?”

“The land where the drilling was going to take place.”

“Why there?”

“I don’t know that, but I do know that there are a hell of a lot of people on that land right now.”

Emmit thought for a few moments and shook his head. “It doesn’t ring true for me,” he said. “What would the companies gain by killing a lot of people? They just want the natural gas.”

I nodded. “You’re right about that, but just because we don’t see the reason doesn’t mean it doesn’t exist. Very little of this has made sense from the start.”

“Then why do you think that’s the target?”

“Well, I couldn’t understand why Rhodes would have diagrams of the land; there seemed no reason for him to need them. But do you remember when we showed the diagrams to Frank Lassenger?”

“Yeah. What about it?”

“He knew exactly what he was looking at, but one thing didn’t seem right. There were markings on the map to show where the drilling should take place, and Lassenger thought they were in the wrong place. That he would never drill where those markings were.”

“Damn…,” Emmit said, realizing.

“Exactly. If I’m right, those markings weren’t showing anyone where to drill. They were showing Rhodes where to place the explosives.”

Emmit stepped harder on the gas, and we went faster than I would have thought possible.

As evacuations go, this one was a loser.

With Alex Hutchinson exhorting the people from the podium to disregard Holland’s plea, and to resist the police efforts, Brus was having no success in getting the bulk of the people to leave.

After twenty minutes of cajoling by the police, perhaps eighty percent of the crowd remained, and showed no inclination to depart. Most of those who did leave were parents with children, uncomfortable about the turn things had taken.

Holland directed Brus to take stronger measures, but Brus was trying to talk him out of it. “These people are not being violent,” he said. “You want me to teargas them?”

“I want you to do whatever is necessary. Once they see we’re serious, they’ll leave.”

“These are not the LA riots, Mayor. We don’t have a court order, and there is no reason to risk injury, to the people or to my officers.”

“That is your opinion, but mine is the one that matters. I am giving you a direct order,” Holland said.

“And I am refusing it. You want to move them out, do it yourself.”

With that he turned and walked away. The conversation between them was caught on camera, and not by accident. Brus had orchestrated it; he wanted the voters of Brayton to see exactly what the Mayor wanted to do, and especially his heroic resistance to it.

Brus walked the grounds, ordering his men to the perimeter, an act that was greeted by cheers of triumph from the protesters. It had gone exactly as planned, so well that he didn’t even think the Mayor would have the political capital to fire him.

Holland, realizing the police would no longer do his bidding, sought out Alex Hutchinson. “Alex, we need to get these people out of here.”

“No, we don’t,” she said.

“Yes, we do,” said Lucas Somers.

It was seven thirty, and Tommy Rhodes had planned to be on a nine o’clock flight.

If I was wrong, we had all the time in the world. If I was right, we could be minutes from disaster.

“Alex, listen to me. I have reason to believe that explosives were planted all over this property, placed on timers. The strong likelihood is that it is programmed to blow at any minute.”

“You too?” she asked.

“No, not me too. I have no dog in this fight. It’s not my problem, and I basically don’t give a shit what happens to this land.”

“Thanks,” she said.

“But I care what happens to these people, and what happens to you. And right now, standing here, I care what happens to me.”

I was waiting to hear her reaction, and trying to figure out what I would do if she wasn’t convinced. There was no way Emmit and I could move these people out ourselves.

We could try and bring in the New York State Police, but the Governor had already refused to act. In any event, it wouldn’t be possible to accomplish it on a timely enough basis.

She was honest about it. “I don’t know whether to believe you.”

I nodded. “I understand that. And if I’m wrong, then the downside is you’ll all leave this area for a few hours and then march back in. But if I’m right, then the downside is incalculable.”

She didn’t answer, just thought about it some more, so I said, “The time to do this is right now. Not in five minutes. Right now.”

She turned and walked away, towards the podium. She got up there, took the microphone, and said, “Listen to me, everyone. This is important.”

She said it a few more times, and waited while the crowd quieted and turned its attention to her. “The state police have told me that they have reason to believe it is dangerous for us to be here. They’ve asked that we walk down the road a bit while they check the place out.”

There were some shouts of surprise and resistance, as the people tried to decide whether Alex had gone over to the other side. “I believe them,” she said. “Once everything has been cleared, we can come back; Lieutenant Lucas Somers has promised that. Come on, my friends, safety is the reason we are here in the first place, so safety comes first.”

Some people started to gather their possessions, and Alex said, “You can leave your things here; we’ll be back in a little while. This is just a precaution, but it is an important one.”

While she was talking, Emmit had gone over to the Brayton Police. He apparently persuaded them to re-engage; Emmit can be a powerful persuader. They walked back among the crowd, helping them to move quickly and orderly from the area, where Alex had gone to lead them down the road.

As they walked off, Emmit and I stayed in the back to round up any slow movers, and in twenty minutes everyone was off the property. It seemed like a lot longer.

I wasn’t sure what a safe distance would be, but this wasn’t a forced march to Bataan. There were elderly people and children in the group, and there was a limit on how long a walk they would tolerate.

We stopped at about a half mile, and I called Barone, explaining the situation and asking him to pull whatever strings necessary to get the bomb squad out here.

I saw Edward Holland trying to mend fences with the people, but it seemed like he was going to have his work cut out for him. He kept explaining that he was only concerned for their safety.

It was a claim that had far more credibility a few minutes later, when the world exploded.

I’d never seen anything like it.

Well, maybe in the movies. We were half a mile away, and the ground shook so hard I was sure it was going to open and swallow us. The flashes of light, maybe three or four of them, were so bright that for those brief moments it seemed like daylight.

The crowd started to panic and run away from the explosion, though their flight was brief. Within seconds that seemed like months the blasts stopped, and peaceful darkness settled in. Sounds of children crying could be heard; I suspect each of them had some serious therapy sessions ahead of them.

Edward Holland was standing next to me. “My God…,” he said, which pretty much summed it up.

Alex Hutchinson came up and asked, “Is it over?”

I nodded. “I think so, but there’s no way to know for certain. Make sure nobody goes back there.”

“That won’t be a problem,” she said, and started walking towards the crowd. She stopped, turned, and said, “Thank you.” Then she went and started comforting people, trying to calm them. The police were doing that as well, and Holland joined in.

People started leaving, though I assume their cars were destroyed in the blast. In thirty seconds Brayton had become a community of pedestrians.

Emmit and I waited for the bomb squad to arrive, and we told them what we knew, basically the type of explosives that had been used and the fact that they were detonated by timers. Remote detonation seemed unlikely, since Rhodes was no longer around to have done so.

When we got in the car, Emmit said, “I guess you were right.”

I shrugged. “It happens.”

I called Julie at the hospital, and asked her how Bryan was doing.

“He’s drifting in and out of consciousness; at least that’s what they’re calling it,” she said. “I prefer to think of it as sleep. They said it will last awhile.”

“Does he know you’re there?”

“I don’t think so.”

“What about the prognosis?” I asked.

“Too soon to know. But the first forty-eight hours are key; at least that’s what they’re telling me.”

“You going back to the hotel?”

“I think so,” she said. “The nurse promised she’d call me if he wakes up, and it’s only ten minutes away. What about you?”

“I’m staying there until Bryan is Bryan,” I said.

“Me too,” she said. “How did it go in Brayton?”

“I assume you haven’t been near a television?”

“No, I’ve been in Bryan’s room.”

“It was fairly eventful,” I said. “Turn on the TV when you get back to the room.”

I saw Emmit smiling at my characterization of the evening.

“What channel?” she asked.

“Trust me, it won’t matter.”

We made plans to meet for an early breakfast the next morning at the hotel. We’d go to the hospital together from there.

I got off the phone and Emmit said, “I’m going to head home tonight. I want to see Cindy.”

“Emmit, there’s nothing I can ever say to you that—”

He interrupted me. “Man, I haven’t had this much fun in a long time.”

I laughed. “Glad I was able to cheer you up.”

As we were getting back to the hotel, Emmit asked, “Who do you think was behind it?”

He was referring to the massive explosions; we both knew that Rhodes was paid help.

“I think I’ll let the Feds worry about that,” I said. “It’s been a pretty long day.”

I got back to my room and got undressed. When I emptied my pockets, I saw that there had been an e-mail on my BlackBerry that I never opened. It was from Bryan, and it said:

Good-bye, Lucas … take care of Julie.

I love you both.

And then I did something that I hadn’t done in many years, probably not since Bryan and I were in grammar school.

I cried.

My cell phone rang seventeen times during the night.

After the third call, I kept it in bed with me, so I could check the call waiting. I didn’t answer any; they all seemed to be Manhattan numbers, and I assumed they were trying to get me to do interviews on the events in Brayton. I was only going to answer if it were Julie or Bryan calling, but that didn’t happen.

I woke up, showered, and was five minutes away from going to meet Julie when she called. “He’s coming out of it,” she said.

“I’ll be right down.”

We drove to the hospital, and that made for probably the only time I’ve felt things were awkward between Julie and me. I didn’t know what she was going to do regarding her marriage, and I wasn’t about to ask her. I’m not even sure that she knew.

The truth was that I didn’t even know what I wanted her to do. I loved her, and I wanted to be with her. I had been denying that to myself for way too long. But I also wanted Bryan to have whatever it was that Bryan wanted.

I decided not to show Bryan’s last e-mail to Julie. He asked me to take care of Julie when he thought he wasn’t going to be around. Now that he was alive and hopefully well, he’d probably feel differently.

I figured it was too much to hope that Bryan met a great woman in the bomb shelter and they were engaged.