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at the street main.

Representatives of press, TV and radio were arriving in growing numbers,

eagerly asking questions of anyone who might answer. Two local radio

stations were broadcasting live from the scene. The news was already

international; AP and UPI had flashed bulletins nationwide and overseas.

Among the press corps, Nancy Molineaux was the center of attention by a

group composed of several police detectives, an FBI special agent, and a

young Assistant District Attorney. (The Assistant D.A. had been on the

police operations center list.) Nancy answered as many questions as she

could, but was evasive about the two cassette tapes which had already been

collected from her as arranged. Under a stern nearthreat from the Assistant

D.A., she promised they would be handed to him within the next two hours.

One detective, following discussions between his superiors and the

Assistant D.A., left the group to telephone two instructions: Raid the

house at 117 Crocker Street. Arrest Georgos Archambault and Davey Birdsong.

Through it all, police and firemen continued to hasten evacuation of the

hotel.

Inevitably, as the hotel emptied, there were casualties. An elderly woman

tripped on the concrete emergency stairs and fell heavily, breaking her hip

and wrist. An ambulance crew carried her away, moaning, on a stretcher. A

New England power company official had a heart attack after descending

twenty flights and died on the way to the hospital. Another woman fell and

suffered a concussion. Several more had minor cuts and bruises resulting

from haste and congestion on the stairs.

There appeared to be no panic. Strangers helped each other. Boorishness or

bad manners were almost nil. Some hardy spirits made jokes, helping others

overcome their fear.

Once outside the hotel, evacuees were herded to a side street, two blocks

away, where police cars bad been parked to form a barricade. Fortunately,

the night was mild and no one seemed to be suffering because of scanty

clothing. After a while, a Red Cross van appeared and volunteer workers

passed out coffee, doing what else they could to console people while they

waited.

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Nim Goldman and his family were among the early groups to reach the

cordoned-off area. By then, Leah and Benjy were thoroughly awake, and now

excited by what was happening. Wben he was satisfied that Ruth and the

children were safe, and despite Ruth's protests, Nim returned to the

hotel. Afterward he realized he was foolhardy in the extreme, but at the

time was prompted by the general heady excitement and the remembrance of

two things. One was Nancy Molineaux's hasty reference on the phone to

"bombs disguised as fire extinguishers," the other, the young man who,

only yesterday, had placed a fire extinguisher behind a lobby chair while

Nim and Wally Talbot watched. Nim wanted to make sure, with many people

still in the hotel: Had that particular extinguisher been found?

By now it was Close to 3 A.M.

Despite a stream of agitated guests emerging from the hotel's main

entrance, Nim managed to force his way back in. Once inside the lobby,

he tried to get the attention of a passing fireman, but the man brushed

him aside with a "not now, buddy," and raced upstairs toward the

mezzanine.

There seemed no one else in authority who was unoccupied, and Nim beaded

to where he had seen the fire extinguisher placed.

"Mr. Goldman! Mr. Goldman!" The call came from his right and a small man

in civilian clothes, with a metal badge pinned to his breast pocket,

hurried forward. Nim recognized Art Romeo, the sbifty-appearing little

deputy to Harry London in the Property Protection Department. The shield

' Nim realized, was that of a GSP & L security officer, but it appeared

to be giving Romeo authority.

Much later, Nim would discover that Art Romeo had been visiting the

hotel, and was sharing a nocturnal poker game with out-of-town cronies

from another utility, when the alarm was given. He had promptly pinned

on his security badge and helped with the evacuation.

"Mr. Goldman, you must go outside!"

"Forget that! I need help." Nim hurriedly explained about the fire

extinguisher which he suspected was a bomb.

"Where is it, sir?"

"Over here." Nim strode to where he had been seated yesterday and pulled

a chair aside. The red extinguisher was where the young man in coveralls

had left it.

Art Romeo's voice took on authority. "Move away! Get out! Go!"

"No, it has to be . . ."

What happened next occurred so quickly that Nim had trouble afterward

recalling the sequence of events.

He heard Romeo shout, "Officers! Over here!" Suddenly two brawny

policemen were beside Nim, and Romeo was telling them, "This man refuses

to leave. Take him outside!"

Without questioning the order, the policemen seized Nim and

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roughly frog-marched him toward the main front door. As Nim was thrust

through it he managed to glance back. The little figure of Art Romeo had

lifted the fire extinguisher and, with it clasped in his arms, was

following.

Ignoring Nim's protests, the policemen continued shoving him toward the

evacuation area two blocks distant. When he was within a few yards of it,

they released him. One said, "If you come back, mister, we'll arrest you

and you'll be taken downtown and charged. We're doing this for your own

good."

At that same instant there was the mighty roar of an explosion, followed

by a cacophony of shattering glass.

In the days which followed, based on eyewitness accounts and official

reports, it was possible to piece the various happenings together.

Using the information Nancy Molineaux: had given the police operations

center, obtained from the tape recordings and her notes, the bomb squad

knew they had to look for high explosive bombs on the hotel's main floor

and mezzanine, incendiary bombs on the floors above. They had located-or

so they thought-all the high explosive bombs and, with Army aid, removed

them.

A bomb squad spokesman said next day, "In the circumstances, we and the

Army boys took chances we wouldn't have normally. We gambled that we'd

have time to do what we did, and the gamble paid off. If we'd been wrong

about the timing, God help us all!"

The bomb squad bad been wrong, however, in believing they had located all

the high explosive bombs. The one they missed was the one Nim remembered.

By the time Art Romeo had bravely picked up the bomb, staggered with it

from the hotel, and taken it to the area from where the disposal trucks

had been shuttling, all the bomb squad members were on upper floors of

the hotel, working frantically to clear the fire bombs.

Consequently, after Art Romeo set the high explosive bomb down, no one

else was close when, seconds later, it exploded. Romeo was blown to

pieces instantly. Almost every window in adjoining blocks was shattered,

as was the glass in nearby vehicles. But miraculously, incredibly, no one

else was hurt.

As the roar of the explosion died, several women screamed and men cursed.

The explosion also marked a psychological turning point. No one, any

more, questioned the need for the emergency exodus. Talking, among the

displaced hotel guests, was noticeably more subdued. Some, abandoning any

idea of returning to the Christopher Columbus, began to leave the scene

quietly, making their own arrangements for the remainder of the night.

But within the hotel, although no guests remained, the action was not yet

over.

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Out of the nearly twenty fire bombs which Georgos Archambault and his

fellow terrorists placed on upper floors, eight were not located and

removed in time; they detonated shortly after 3 A.M. Fierce fires resulted.

It was more than an hour before all were brought under control; by then the

floors where they occurred were a sodden, burned-out shambles. It was clear

to all concerned that, without the advance warning and evacuation, the

death toll would have been enormous.

As it was, two policemen and three firemen died. Two more firemen were

badly injured. All were close to the fire bombs which exploded.

As dawn succeeded darkness, mopping up continued.

Most former guests of the Christoper Columbus were provided with makeshift

accommodations elsewhere. Later in the day, those who could would return to

collect their belongings and begin a dispirited trek home.

By unanimous agreement which no one even bothered discussing, the NEI

convention was abandoned.

Nim took Ruth, Leah and Benjy home in a taxi. He had wished to thank Nancy

Molineaux for her phone call, but observing her still a center of attention

for some reason, be decided to do it later.

As Nim and his family left, morgue wagons were joining the other vehicles

at the scene.

Soon after the explosion which killed Art Romeo, Georgos Archambault was

sobbing as be ran toward where his "Fire Protection Service" truck was

parked.

It had all gone wrong! Everything!

Georgos couldn't understand it.

Some tbirty-five minutes earlier, just after 2:25 A.m., be bad been puzzled

to hear many sirens approaching the area where he was waiting in the

pickup. Moments later, fire engines and police cars sped past, obviously

headed for the Christopher Columbus. As minutes went by, the activity

increased and more vehicles followed. Georgos was now thoroughly alarmed.

At twenty to three be could wait no longer. He got out of the truck, locked

it, and walked toward the hotel, getting as close as he could before a

barrier of police cars stopped him.

He was near enough to see-to his great dismay-people streaming from the

hotel, many in nightclothes, and being urged by police and firemen to move

faster.

Those people were supposed to stay inside until the bombs went off and the

hotel was burning! Then it would be too late to leave.

Georgos wanted to wave his arms and sbout, "Go back! Go back!" But,

despairingly, he knew it would have no effect and only draw attention to

himself.

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Then, while he watched, some of his carefully planted fire extinguisher

bombs were carried from the hotel by people who bad no right to interfere

with them, and then were rushed away in trucks, preventing what Georgos

had so painstakingly planned. He thought: If he bad only booby-trapped

the bombs, as he could have done with extra work, they could never have

been moved. But he had been so confident that nothing would go wrong. Now

it had, robbing Friends of Freedom of their glorious victory.

That was when Georgos began to cry.

Even when he heard the high explosive bomb go off in the street, it did

not console him and he turned away.

How had it happened? Why had he failed? In what devious way had the enemy

found out? He watched the firemen and police-blind, ignorant slaves of

fascist capitalism-with bitterness and anger.

At that point, Georgos realized that his own identity might now be known,