Green Light (Sam Archer 7) (3 page)

A few
seconds later the three of them slowly sat up and turned, looking
towards the front of the train which had been annihilated, the
wailing fire alarms accompanied by the sound of running
water.

‘
You good?’ Josh asked his colleagues over the
noise.

Beside
him, the other two nodded, Vargas giving a thumb’s up. On the far
left, Archer exhaled and lay back on the floor in exhausted
relief.

‘
Next time I’m taking the bus,’ he said.

TWO

Two and
a half hours later, Archer and Josh were standing on the street in
Union Square, the entire area illuminated by the flashing lights of
emergency services vehicles and the glare of news-camera lights.
The place was full of activity, members of the public and MTA
employees who’d been directly caught up in the drama being treated
for shock and minor injuries by medical teams.

CSU were
down in the cavernous station examining the damaged front of the
train, the entire place shut down for the time being. The FBI and
ATF had shown up too; both agencies were being brought up to date
on the situation as news teams both national and international were
filming the Square from behind hurriedly-erected barriers,
reporters interviewing members of the public trying to get what
information they could as they reported back.

Standing
beside his detective partner, Archer watched it all unfold; as he
stood there he was also very aware that the Square was being doused
with a torrent of water, jets spraying up into the air and
drenching those in the immediate vicinity. It turned out those
pipes Archer, Josh and Vargas had laid the body onto had been water
mains supplying much of downtown Manhattan.

He
glanced over at the geyser erupting from a storm drain forty or so
feet away, aware of several burly maintenance workers looking in
his direction; now the situation was safe, word had quickly spread
regarding who’d been responsible for the destruction.

‘
Why are they looking at me?’ he said to Josh, noting the
glares directed at him. ‘I wasn’t the one with the C4 next to my
guts.’

‘
Word’s got round that putting our friend down the manhole was
your idea,’ Josh said, hiding a smile. ‘Apparently Vargas and I
were just following your lead.’

Archer
raised an eyebrow. ‘Oh, it’s like that is it?’

‘
Sorry buddy. You know I’ve always got your back.’ He nodded at
the burly, blue-collar group. ‘But not with those guys.’

Archer
smiled. ‘What happened to the driver, by the way?’

‘
He’s OK. Bit shaken up; they took him to hospital. Said the
gunman forced him to open up the cab at Atlantic then put a gun to
his head.

‘
Our boy must have seen me with the Sig on the camera and
panicked,’ Archer said. ‘Guess he didn’t want to risk the train
being stopped by us before it made it here and he could
detonate.’

Before
Josh could reply, the two men sensed someone approaching and turned
to see Marquez walking towards them, pushing her cell phone back
into her pocket.

‘
Sergeant Hendricks and his team secured the other device,’ she
said. ‘Just. They nailed him at 76
^th
Street, heading for Times
Square on the 1.’

‘
Alive?’

‘
Dead. He tried to run so Philips blasted him; head shot like
Vargas, luckily for them. Same deal, ball bearings strapped to his
limbs, explosives and a timer under his skin, loaded to the gills
with crystal meth to numb the pain and pump them up. Bomb disposal
managed to cut him open and defuse the charge before it
blew.’

Archer
grimaced. ‘How pleasant.’

‘
What were estimated casualties?’ Josh asked.

‘
Including down here, over a thousand. Times Square was
packed.’

‘
The motive?’

‘
Same old shit; idiots with a so-called cause. But these
bastards were inventive; they knew even if someone found them or
put them down, they couldn’t get to the explosives and timer. Bomb
disposal call it
Franken-bombing
; apparently it’s
becoming increasingly common.’

As both
men absorbed this, Shepherd joined the group, having wrapped up a
conversation with two agents from the FBI and ATF.

‘
Everything OK, sir?’ Marquez asked.

He
nodded. ‘Just about. The Feds are saying we left it late to move
in.’

‘
We only just got this tip-off. Wasn’t our choice to cut it so
fine.’

Looking
at Archer, Shepherd smiled. ‘By the way, if you were ever thinking
about running for Mayor I’d reconsider it. You’re not exactly
flavour of the month with the Worker’s Union over
there.’

He
nodded towards the city maintenance guys, who now had the mighty
task on their hands of repairing the damage, water continuing to
gush up through the ruptured concrete.

‘
Apparently they only finished work on that pipe last week.
They’re suggesting sending you down there head-first to plug the
hole.’

As the
others laughed and Archer started to protest again, the group saw
Vargas reappear, stepping out of a portable mobile command truck
forty feet away, her pistol absent from her hip. Seeing as she was
the one who put down the suspect, she’d been in there for almost an
hour giving a statement. She’d had one hell of an evening; not only
had she put two rounds in the bomber, but when they’d breached the
suspect’s apartment in Brooklyn she’d been the one who’d found the
schedules of those particular trains with the two stations
marked.

She
immediately spotted the rest of her team and walked across the
Square.

‘
You good?’ Shepherd asked as she joined them.

‘
All clear. They took my Sig as evidence. I’ll get it back next
week.’

‘
They should give you a medal to go with it,’ Shepherd
replied.

‘
I’ll just take going home for the night.’

‘
Me too,’ he replied, turning to his team. ‘I’ll head back to
the Precinct and start on the reports. Go home and get some rest.
You deserve it; good work, guys. I’m proud.’

The
group nodded their thanks and Shepherd walked off through the
Square, leaving his four detectives alone.

‘
I need a beer,’ Josh said. ‘Anyone else?’

‘
Not for me,’ Vargas said. ‘I’m spent.’

‘
Arch?’

‘
Not tonight, mate.’

‘
Lisa?’

‘
Right now I just want to go home and see my kid. Give me a
ride?’

Josh
nodded, turning to Archer and Vargas. ‘See you guys tomorrow. A
night to remember, right?’

They
both nodded. A beat later he and Marquez headed off through the
Square towards one of the two NYPD Fords. Left alone, Archer and
Vargas looked at each other, the events of the day starting to hit
them both now the adrenaline rush had faded.

‘
Think I’ve had enough for one day,’ Archer said.

Running
her hand through her hair, Vargas nodded. ‘That’s for
sure.’

‘
Let’s get the hell out of here.’

Glancing
at the maintenance workers, she managed to raise a smile. ‘I’d say
that’s the second best decision you’ve made today.’

THREE

Fifteen minutes later, Archer and Vargas crossed the
Queensborough Bridge in a black Bureau Ford as the clock on the
dash ticked past
9:45pm
, the sun already gone for the day and a thickening veil of
darkness drawing across the city.

Archer
was behind the wheel, Vargas in the passenger seat beside him with
her cell phone in her hands, checking for any messages. Leaving the
Bridge and moving into Queens, Archer glanced at her. She still
seemed wound up, which was natural, but as she looked at her phone,
he saw a tiny shift upwards in her body language and guessed who’d
be on her mind; her adopted daughter, Isabel.

‘
Is she back yet?’ he asked.

Vargas
smiled. ‘She’s downstairs with John. He’s asking when we’ll get
home.’

‘
We got anything in the fridge?’

‘
Not much. Don’t think I could eat anyway.’

‘
Neither do I but she’ll want to. Let’s get a pizza or
something.’

She nodded and tapped in a reply as Archer took a right turn
down 39
^th
Avenue before swinging left into a parking lot, just a handful
of cars sitting in the bays with a row of stores fifty feet away.
As Vargas sent the message and put her cell away, Archer pulled to
a stop in an empty space.

Switching off the engine, he reached for his door handle but
then realised Vargas hadn’t moved. Turning, he saw she was staring
at the dashboard, the momentary lift Isabel had given her already
dissipating like mist in the sun.

He
paused, his hand on the door. ‘Everything OK?’

She
didn’t reply.

Withdrawing his fingers from the handle, he turned to
her.

‘
Hey. Talk to me. What’s up?’

‘
We should have died tonight,’ she said after a few
moments.

Archer
paused for a moment. ‘I know.’

‘
I feel like I end up saying that every couple of
months.’

He
smiled. ‘But you’re still alive.’

‘
It’s not me I’m worried about.’

She
continued to stare straight ahead, not looking at him.

Archer
touched her hand. ‘I’m still here. See?’

‘
Yeah, but only just.’

She
exhaled sharply, obviously wound up and stressed; Archer turned all
the way in his seat to face her.

‘
I’m not going anywhere. Shit, Alice, even Wile E Coyote
couldn’t get me.’

She
suddenly smiled. ‘He couldn’t get anyone, Archer. That was the
whole point.’

He
grinned back and she laughed briefly, closing her eyes and keeping
them shut.

When she
opened them again, he could see a slight sheen of tears.

‘
I’m not going anywhere,’ Archer repeated, squeezing her hand.
‘I mean it.’

Tears
still in her eyes, she glanced at him.

‘
You promise?’

He
smiled. ‘I promise. I won’t leave you. I’m here for
good.’

As he
watched her, seeing his words having an effect, she suddenly leaned
forward and kissed him, something she never normally did when they
were on duty. A few seconds later she withdrew and smiled again,
wiping her eyes.

‘
Come to think of it, Josh was right. We definitely need some
booze.’

‘
I’ll get it. My treat.’

Shaking
her head, she pushed open her door handle. ‘Stay put. This one’s on
me, Road-Runner.’

With
that she stepped out of the car and shut the door, then walked
across the car park towards the stores. Watching her go, Archer’s
own smile lingered for a few moments.

Then it
faded as he watched her arrive at a deli and disappear
inside.

He and
Vargas had been working together since June, Alice brought into the
Department from the US Marshals Service. However, they’d met a few
weeks prior to that on a warm night in March, a first encounter
neither was likely to forget.

Alice
and a team of fellow Marshals had been attacked on the upper West
Side by a group of armed gunmen. Happening to be passing by, Archer
had raced to their aid and ended up taking refuge with the team
inside a Harlem apartment block to find the trouble had only just
begun, more killers arriving intent on wiping them all out. It had
been a nightmarish few hours as they’d fought to survive;
considering the odds against them, they should have died, but
somehow they’d made it out and that night had forever changed his
life.

He’d
read a 9/11 anniversary article a few weeks ago focusing on the
bonds that developed between survivors from that day, people from
vastly different backgrounds brought together by the terrible
experiences they’d undergone that no-one else, no matter how
sympathetic, could ever truly comprehend. Although under far
different circumstances, he felt he had more understanding of that
sense of kinship than he did before. Twice in six months he and
Vargas had been side by side thinking they were about to die, three
times if they included tonight. Surviving those ordeals gave every
second they were alive an intensity and clarity that he’d never
previously experienced. When he thought back to the past, his life
before he’d met her that night in March seemed to have been in
sepia tone, like an old Hollywood movie. Her presence had given it
colour.

Which
earlier tonight had almost cut to black.

Looking
up, he watched her leave the deli and step into the pizzeria, a
six-pack of beer in a white bag clutched under her arm. Her
concerns about his wellbeing weren’t unfounded; the Q train wasn’t
the first time in the last few years that Archer had survived
against the odds.