Behind the gag, Caitlin whimpered and hesitated. She wasn’t overly afraid of heights, but the steel mesh in front of her looked like nothing more than a gossamer web, too fragile to hold her weight. Bayat pushed her and she stumbled onto the steel grating, yelping behind the gag. She grabbed the handrail, steadying herself.
Far below, she could see children playing in the green grass of Astoria Park. They looked so tiny to her, like scurrying mice…and then it struck her. That’s all they are to this man, she realized. That’s all I am. Closing her eyes, Caitlin swallowed, then squared her shoulders and continued on.
Movement became easier with time, as she became accustomed to the height, and the uneven feel of the catwalk’s grating. Under other circumstances, Caitlin would have enjoyed the view. The setting sun dropped lower over the horizon, illuminating the city with a golden glow.
Still over the park, they passed through a beige stone tower with a high stone roof. Over her head, parapets overlooked the East River and Manhattan beyond. When she emerged from the tower a few minutes later, Caitlin was struck once again by the view.
A quarter mile or so south, the arch of the Triboro Bridge also spanned the river, its roadway clogged with traffic. Beyond the long highway bridge, the skyline of the Upper East Side peeked over the tip of Roosevelt Island. Caitlin could see the Empire State Building, the spire of the Chrysler Building, the slanted roof of the Citicorp Center, and in the distance, the gleaming twin towers of Lower Manhattan’s World Trade Center.
By now, Caitlin had passed over the entire length of the park. Far beneath her, a narrow road paralleled the Queens bank of the East River. Rap and hip-hop music wafted up from hot rods. An ice cream truck’s jingle and the snarl of a passing motorcycle lifted on the breeze to Caitlin’s ears. It seemed strange to her how normal, everyday life was simply continuing. how people could be so oblivious to the terrible thing about to happen just over their heads.
Suddenly, the faded red steel began to vibrate under her feet. Omar Bayat pushed her into a recessed area, then stood between her and the tracks. A moment later, an Amtrak train roared past them, shaking the bridge so hard, Caitlin thought she would be shaken off, plunging to her death far below.
Finally the train passed and they resumed their hike, leaving the boulder-strewn shore behind them. Now, beneath her feet, Caitlin could see only the gray-green waters of the East River, swirling and roiling with dangerous riptides and whirlpools. Here, nearly three hundred feet above the water, the wind increased until it whistled through the high-tension electrical wires strung over the bridge, its powerful gusts threatening to sweep her slender form over the edge.
Ahead, in the glare of the setting sun, Caitlin spied activity. She counted three men in green overalls, circling a strange device mounted on a tripod. The object looked like a telescope with two optical cylinders instead of one.
Omar Bayat put a boot to her rump, pushing her forward. As Caitlin approached the men, someone stepped out of the shadows beside her.
“Take off the gag,” growled Griffin Lynch. “She can scream her bloody head off and nobody will hear her up here.”
Omar Bayat ripped the gag away, Caitlin rubbed her bruised lips. “What do you want with me, you bleedin’ sod? Why don’t you just kill me and be done with it?”
Griff grabbed Caitlin’s chin, gripped it in his scarred but still bruising hand. “Never fear, lass. You’ll die soon enough. When it’s good and dark out here, I’m gonna toss you off this bridge. With luck your corpse won’t wash ashore for a week, and by then Shamus and me will be long gone, while you join your dead brother in hell.”
Caitlin’s jaw dropped.
“That’s right, girl. I sent Shamus to kill your brother and he agreed to do it. Serves your boy right for messing up the delivery to Taj. His fuck up forced me out to this bloody bridge when me and Shamus should have been halfway to the Islands by now. At least it’s good to know Liam’s probably been blasted into dust already.”
For a moment, Caitlin’s heart stopped. But then she realized that Griff’s words were all wrong. Shamus was the one who’d died in the explosion. Her own Liam had escaped and turned himself in. He was in police protective custody now. She was about to tell Griff as much, but quickly choked back the words. It was better if Griff thought her brother was already dead. Then Liam could go on living his life, safe and sound and hopefully happy…even without his big sister to kick his ass and trim his bangs. Yes, Caitlin thought, Liam is alive. He’s all right. He’s protected. That realization alone gave her the strength she needed to face her own death.
Her eyes flashed defiantly. She pushed Griff’s hand away from her face. “Ya talk big, Griffin Lynch. But like all the Provos, you’re good for pushing violence and nothing more.”
A brief, disgusted smile flashed across Griff’s stone cold expression. “I can’t wait to kill you, girl. But at least your death will be fast and clean — more than I can say for the rest of the folks in this city.”
Caitlin choked back her fears. Over Griff’s shoulder, the blazing rays of the setting sun were now touching every particle in the air, spreading their red-orange tinge until the entire horizon appeared as if someone had set it on fire. That’s when she realized what Griff and his associates had been erecting — a missile launcher, its ominous silhouette pointed at the sky.
24. THE FOLLOWING TAKES PLACE BETWEEN THE HOURS OF 8 P.M. AND 9 P.M. EASTERN DAYLIGHT TIME
Thanks to the GPS beacon in the watch Caitlin wore, Jack knew where to go. He found the fenced-off area on Nineteenth Street. He found the garage, the van, and the ladder.
“Where is she now?” Jack said into his headset.
“In the middle of the bridge, Jack, facing south. The blip hasn’t moved for several minutes.” Jamey’s voice was tense. Jack knew what she was thinking— were they going to throw Caitlin off the bridge?
“I’m going up right now,” said Jack. “I’m taking the earphones out but I’m leaving this channel open. You’ll be able to hear me, but I won’t be able to hear you.”
“Is that a good idea, Jack?” Ryan asked.
Nina answered for him. “Jack will need all his senses on that bridge.”
Ryan frowned. “Well, good luck, Bauer.”
Jack did not reply.
Crouching low, he reached under the van, rubbed road dirt and oil on his hands, then on his face. It wasn’t exactly camouflage but it would help him fade into the darkness on the bridge — he hoped.
Jack drew the Mark 23 USP, checked the magazine, his extra ammunition. Then he tucked the weapon in the holster under his arm, yanked the earphones out and began to climb.
It took him more than five minutes of climbing to get to the top. By the time he reached the span it was twilight; the sun had dropped below the horizon. The park beneath him was shrouded in purple shadows, broken by tiny islands of light under glowing lampposts.
Without a watch, Jack used his PDA to check the time. He had less than thirty minutes to find the terrorists and stop the missile from launching. He took off at a run on the narrow catwalk.
Under normal circumstances, Jack would be charging into this situation with aerial intelligence and support in place, a backup team there for him at every turn. He would be wearing sound-absorbing chukkas and Kevlar body armor, a helmet with night vision goggles. He’d have tactical support, too, on both sides of the bridge.
But for this, Jack was alone. Despite his throbbing muscles, aching arm wound, his hunger, thirst, and near-exhaustion, he pressed on. Jack knew if he wavered now, Caitlin would die and the terrorists would unleash a terrible pandemic, the likes of which America had not experienced in nearly a century.