Staying Alive (7 page)

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Authors: Debra Webb

Tags: #Fiction, #Romance, #Suspense, #Thrillers

BOOK: Staying Alive
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Agent Krueger gestured to the door. “You have my word, Miss Vernon. Now, the agents are waiting to take you home.”

Darlene hugged her. Claire held on tight, didn’t want to let go but she knew Krueger was waiting.

The tearful goodbye tore a chunk out of Claire’s heart. She watched her friend go, scared to death she would never see her again.

She turned back to Krueger. “How can you be sure Darlene will be safe? If Nusair knows she’s my friend he might—”

“Already taken care of. Two agents will be watching her every move, twenty-four/seven.”

A sigh of relief expelled from her lungs. Wait. What about her sister?

“I have a sister and a niece.” God, she should have thought of that sooner. Nusair could already be trying to get to them.

“Agents have already been dispatched to watch your sister. For now we’re doing so without briefing her as to the situation.” Krueger touched her arm in an attempt at reassurance. “We don’t leave anything to chance, Miss Grant. The people you care about will be protected.”

His hand felt warm against her skin. She wanted to believe what he said…that nothing would be left to chance. But she was afraid. Afraid for the only family she had left, whether that family claimed her or not. Afraid for her dear friend.

“What do we do now?” She felt suddenly tired. as if the weight of the world were on her shoulders and she had no idea how to support it properly.

“I’ll need a list of the items you require from your home.” He moved those broad shoulders in a negligible shrug. “Clothes, toiletries, any medications. Then we’ll start the operation briefing.”

Krueger rounded up a notepad and a pen and placed both on the table. “Let me know when you’re finished and I’ll send one of my agents to pick up your stuff.”

Claire sat down at the conference table once more and stared at the paper. She tried to look at the chore before her as if she were taking a vacation. A couple of weeks in the mountains or on a cruise, though she wouldn’t need any formal attire for sure.

Unless she wanted to go ahead and pick out a dress to be buried in.

A shiver rushed over her skin.

She couldn’t start thinking that way. Krueger said he would do all he could to protect her. She had to do her part as well. If she fell into the role
of victim, she’d certainly end up a victim. She had to be strong and think rationally. She was no shrinking violet. She knew how to use a handgun, a rifle and she knew how to fight. Sisters as close in age as she and her sister didn’t grow up without a scuffle or two.

Claire started with clothes. Moved on to toiletries, only the necessities. Maybe the iron she used for straightening her hair wasn’t an actual necessity but maintaining some aspects of her appearance would help her keep her composure. Her hair was one of them.

At first she left off the box of exquisite chocolates she had saved for a special occasion but then she decided that she needed it.

An epiphany struck just then.

This was almost like being pregnant.

Her friends always told her that the great thing about being pregnant was the fact that a woman didn’t have to worry about watching her food intake so closely. Unless there were complications, dieting was a no-no during pregnancy.

The way Claire saw it, her current circumstances were quite similar. Why fret about what she ate? She might not live to ever have to worry about climbing onto a scale again.

There you go. Her mother had always taught her to look at the bright side of any situation.
Claire had just proven that almost any situation could have a lighter side. Who cared about her weight if the size of the casket were the only issue?

She’d really gone off the deep end here. After reviewing her list she decided she couldn’t think of anything else. As if he’d sensed her completion of the task, Krueger returned.

Maybe they had cameras as well as listening devices monitoring this room.

She got up and passed the list to him.

He scanned it, then settled his full attention on her. “If you think of anything else you need, just let me know. We want you to be comfortable.”

Agent Carver rushed into the room. “Excuse me, sir.”

Krueger shifted his attention to the other agent. “What do you have, Carver?”

“Sir, Miss Grant’s cell has an incoming call.”

The FBI had her cell phone? The last time she’d seen it was in her classroom on her desk. She’d assumed it had been confiscated as evidence since the terrorists had used it to converse with the police.

“The call is bouncing off one server after the other, sir. We believe it’s
him.

That bone-chilling cold she’d felt earlier crept its way through her body.

Krueger tucked a Bluetooth wireless earpiece into his ear. Then he took the cell phone and of
fered it to Claire. “Stay calm and listen carefully to whatever he tells you. We’ll be monitoring the conversation, but we don’t want him to know that.”

The ringing abruptly stopped.

An anxious breath heaved past her lips.

Krueger thrust the phone closer to her. “He’ll call back.”

As if his mind were linked to the caller’s, the ringing started again.

Claire took the phone. Her hand shook. She moistened her lips then flipped open the phone.

Her gaze collided with Krueger’s as she placed it against her ear. “Hello.”

“Claire Grant?”

She flinched. “Yes.”

“You must go to Bellevue Square. Your task awaits you at the first-level children’s play area. Do not deviate. Do not elicit help. No extraordinary measures like bulletproof vests or weapons. Nothing. I repeat, you must do as I say, unarmed and with no help. I am aware that you are not alone and that this call is being monitored. Do not allow your new friends to interfere. Keep this phone with you at all times. You have forty-five minutes, Miss Grant.”

Krueger made one of those keep-going gestures with his hand and whispered, “Ask him what happens in forty-five minutes.”

Claire couldn’t think. The blood roaring in her ears from the frantic pounding of her heart made concentrating impossible.

“I don’t understand your instructions. What is it I’m supposed to do at the mall?”

“You will receive additional instructions when you arrive at the play area.”

She probably needed to ask other questions in order to keep him talking, but her mind simply wouldn’t fix on anything.

“I’m…I’m not sure…”

“Hurry, Miss Grant,” he interrupted, “or a child will die.”

Chapter 7

“E
TA is sixteen minutes, sir.”

Claire rushed into the waiting elevator with Krueger and two other members of his team, Agents Talkington and Holman.

Her mind kept trying to make sense of what was happening, but somehow things wouldn’t connect to form a logical pattern.

“I need the layout of the mall’s first floor. We have only minutes to get backup into place.” Krueger rattled off the orders as if nothing that had transpired in the past few minutes surprised him.

This was his job, she reminded herself. He probably did this kind of thing all the time.

But she didn’t.

She looked at him, felt panic rising all too fast. “What’s happening? I don’t understand this.”

Krueger shifted his attention to her, but before he could answer her question the elevator bumped to a stop on the lobby level.

He barked additional instructions to his men as he took her by the arm and herded her toward the hotel’s front exit.

Seconds later they were en route to the Bellevue Square Mall. Claire watched in horrified amazement as the men made preparations. Special communication devices were positioned on shirt collars and tucked into ears. Krueger continued to dole out orders with a keenly honed focus that transcended the norm.

“Sir,” Agent Talkington broke in, “the first-floor play area is a padded tugboat playground near Nordstrom’s and Eddie Bauer.”

“Let me know when we have backup in place. We need to take every possible precaution.”

“What did he mean,” Claire asked, her mind scrambling to catch up, “when he said I should hurry or a child will die?” All the possibilities, some far more horrifying than others, tumbled through her head.

Krueger met her gaze, his expression formidable and totally closed to assessment. She didn’t
want some prettied-up version of what was going down. She wanted the whole truth. Whatever was happening here she needed to understand.

“At this point, Miss Grant, we can only assume that he plans to lure you into some kind of trap using a child as bait.”

Just when she’d thought she had reached her limit for feeling fearful or anxious, a new kind of terror detonated inside her.

“You’re saying that a child is in danger right now. Because of me?”

This was her fault.

Her actions had set off this insanity.

All the pain and emotion from six years ago came barging in to combine with the mix of fear and worry she suffered here and now.

Hadn’t she done the right thing back then? Hadn’t she done the same yesterday at the school? Could she have acted any differently and ensured her sister’s survival? Or Peter Reimes’s survival from a cold-blooded terrorist?

“This isn’t your fault, Miss Grant. This is about a terrorist. An animal capable of unimaginable atrocities. You saved the lives of your students. You didn’t do anything wrong.”

Confusion as to what to believe joined the already volatile mix of emotions. She wanted to
believe Krueger was right. But if a child was harmed today because of what she did…

“He said I would die.” She mentally reviewed the initial call she had received from Abdul Nusair. “Over and over again.” She didn’t actually get that last comment but she definitely understood the part about dying. “He doesn’t have to bring anyone else into this.” For the first time since this nightmare began she felt a sense of comprehension and determination. “If he wants me, he can have me.” Her gaze locked with Krueger’s.

“That’s very noble of you, Miss Grant, but remember, we have no choice but to play by his rules. He set this game in motion.”

She made up her mind then and there. If Nusair called again she would tell him as much. He didn’t have to play this game with her. There was no need for anyone else to be put in danger. Whether Krueger agreed with her or not, she understood what she had to do.

A calm fell over her and she resigned herself to that fate. Her actions yesterday had been her decision. She would face the consequences.

“Miss Grant,” Krueger said when she’d been quiet for a couple of minutes, “it’s my job to see that you don’t get hurt. Don’t give up on me already.”

Claire searched his face and those unusual green eyes. She sensed that he was feeling the
weight of guilt now as well. Guilt for what he had proposed to her today. Guilt for what he knew he possessed no power to control. In that way he was just like her…they were in the same boat.

“Your job, Agent Krueger, is to stop Abdul Nusair. I know where I stand in this particular pecking order. I just want to make sure that no one else, especially a child, gets caught in the crossfire.”

To her surprise he looked away. She wondered how it was that a man like Krueger, one who had no doubt seen the worst of the worst, could still feel remorse for collateral damage. To her surprise that idea made her admire him all the more.

Respect, she amended. She respected him. Admired was a little different. She had to remember that…for the next few minutes. After that it probably wouldn’t matter one way or another.

The driver, Agent Holman, took the necessary turns that led into the mall’s jam-packed parking lot. Agent Talkington directed him to the exit nearest their destination. Hundreds, maybe thousands, of people had been evacuated and moved well away from the entrance on this side of the mall. A wall of Seattle’s finest as well as temporary barricades were in place for crowd control.

Claire’s heart rate started to climb once more. She clutched her cell phone in her hand and prayed that Nusair would call back before anyone was
hurt. She had to convince him to take her and forget all this staged drama. The circus wasn’t necessary. This was between her and him; no one else needed to be involved.

His son was dead because she had gotten in the way of his plan. As much as she cherished human life, she felt no true regret for what she had done. If she had to repeat those moments a dozen times over, she would not have allowed Peter Reimes to die.

“Backup, including two snipers, is in place, sir,” Talkington said. “The evacuation of the area is complete with the exception of five people trapped in the Eddie Bauer store.”

Krueger and Talkington exchanged one of those looks that Claire knew meant she’d been left out of the loop on some aspect of the information.

“What about the child? Is there a child in danger at the play area? Is there any indication that Nusair is here?” She deserved to know what she was walking into here.

“We’ll know more about the situation when we get inside.”

He was hiding something from her. Claire may have only just met the man, but he had been far too direct with her on most things today for her not to notice the way he avoided eye contact now. She studied Agent Talkington. He knew whatever was
going on. He’d carefully avoided looking directly at her as well.

As the driver parked the SUV, Claire steeled herself for what was to come. She had no idea what to brace for other than certain death.

Maybe that would be enough.

She got out of the vehicle, her gaze drawn to the looming mall entrance. Of all the times she had been here she had never considered this a place to fear other than for her credit card balance. Now she feared for her life…and for the possibility that an innocent child would be caught in the crossfire.

Krueger barked orders like a drill sergeant. Three more agents joined their group, gathering around her as if she were the president of the United States. She was completely cloaked by male bodies as they moved toward the mall entrance.

Once inside the routine continued. Claire couldn’t see anything for the barrier of men all the way around her.

They stopped abruptly and the group of agents fanned out.

A base of operations had been set up. A wall about ten feet long and eight feet high shielded them from the playground and blocked her view. When she looked up she could see the second-level gallery. The place was deserted.

Claire tried to look around but too many agents
had crowded behind the makeshift wall for her to see anything on the first level beyond where she stood. Krueger and his team were looking at something she couldn’t see.

She angled her way between two men and moved in next to Krueger. He was staring out a long, narrow window in the wall that wasn’t a part of the mall’s architecture. Something the backup personnel had put into place evidently.

Claire tiptoed up to get a better view.

The oxygen in her lungs evaporated.

A child, a little boy, no older than ten or eleven stood in the play area made to look like a tugboat. There was an odd bulkiness about the jacket he wore.

Where was his mother? Or father? Surely he hadn’t been left there alone.

Alone.

Realization slammed full force into her chest.

Of course there was no one else in the play area. The mall had been evacuated.

Why weren’t the police or the FBI moving in to help this child?

“Why is that little boy standing out there alone?” She turned to Krueger. “Why isn’t someone helping him? Where are his parents?”

“Anyone who tries to get near him is stopped by a sniper.”

Claire was confused. She remembered Talking
ton saying there were two snipers in place, but she thought they worked for the FBI.

Krueger wrapped those powerful fingers around her arm and squeezed, maybe to get her attention or maybe because he was afraid she intended to make a run for the boy. “There’s someone shooting at whoever tries to help the boy. Our snipers can’t get a position on the shooter. One mall security guard and one Seattle police officer have already been gravely injured trying to get to him. The police have the boy’s mother in the Eddie Bauer store. Paramedics are treating her for injuries she sustained trying to get her son.”

Claire started to shake. The tears welled in her eyes but didn’t fall. The rising fury made her tremble so violently she had to wrap her arms around her middle to keep herself still. She had to do something. She looked around. All these trained agents and no one could do anything.

“This is crazy.” She flinched at how loud her voice sounded in the quiet. “If enough of us make a run for the boy, surely the sniper can’t get us all.”

“Look again, Miss Grant,” Krueger urged, his own pain evident in his expression now. “See the way the boy’s shirt and jacket protrude in front. He has an explosive strapped to his chest. When the police officer was shot Seattle PD received a call
from a man we believe to be Nusair. He warned that if anyone else went near the child, he would activate the charges. We have explosives experts standing by, but we can’t do anything until we receive those additional instructions from Nusair.”

Claire stared through the narrow window at the boy. “Oh, God.” Now she understood this strange wall or shield. There was also a large container nearby. She’d thought it was one of the mall’s numerous trash receptacles. Now, on closer look, she realized it wasn’t—it was for bomb disposal. Some of the agents behind this shield with her wore SWAT gear with Explosives Unit emblazoned across their chests and backs. She hadn’t noticed any of that until now.

How could they save that child?

Why would Nusair do this? He wanted his vengeance. But she was the one who had killed his son. Why didn’t he strap explosives to her chest? Was he doing this because he knew that as a teacher she loved children?

“You’ll need these.”

Her attention jerked back to Krueger. He placed a communication device on her T-shirt, near the collar, then tucked what looked like a small hearing aid in her left ear.

“You’ll be able to hear us and we’ll be able to hear you.”

“We have to do something,” she pleaded. They couldn’t just stand here. Nusair had said forty-five minutes or the child would die. Time was running out!

Her cell phone rang. The sound took her breath all over again. This would be Nusair, calling with additional instructions.

“Go ahead,” Krueger said, “answer it. We’re monitoring your calls.”

Her fingers were cold and clumsy but somehow she managed to get the phone open. “Hello.”

“Claire Grant, I see you have arrived on time.”

“Why are you doing this?” She closed her eyes, hated herself for breaking down. Unable to stop the onslaught, sobs choked into her throat.

“Pay attention, Miss Grant, I will not repeat myself.”

“I’m listening.” She scrubbed at her eyes with the back of her free hand. “Tell me what to do. Just don’t hurt the boy.”

“The boy’s fate is in your hands, Claire Grant. You must go to him. Stay on the line. I will instruct you further when you reach the boy.”

“I’m going.” She started to move, but Krueger stood in her path.

The standoff lasted only a few seconds.

In that fleeting moment she saw the defeat in his eyes.

He couldn’t protect her.

He knew it and so did she.

Krueger stepped out of her path. The rest of the agents moved aside as well.

Claire cleared the shield and started toward the play area. The boy caught sight of her and started to sob even harder. She was certain he expected her to be shot as the others who’d come near him had.

Please, God, she prayed, don’t let this child be hurt.

“It’s okay,” she said to the boy as she came closer.

Shock radiated through her as recognition kicked in.

Joey Denton.

He was in Darlene’s class.

“Hi, Joey,” she murmured. She tried hard to keep her voice from wobbling. “You doing okay?”

“Please help me, Miss Grant.”

“Don’t you worry, Joey, that’s why I’m here. I’m going to get you out of this so you can be with your mom. Okay?”

He nodded. His eyes were red and swollen. She knew he was scared to death. Then she saw the tether. She’d wondered why the child didn’t make a run for it. Now she knew. One end of the tether was attached to his right wrist with a plastic bracelet, thicker and far stronger than the kind used on hos
pital patients. No way could she get it off without a knife. It was too tight to slip over his hand.

“Now unzip his jacket,” Nusair instructed.

She bracketed the cell phone between her shoulder and her ear and reached for the zipper.

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