The two agents rechecking the passengers filed past their boss shaking their heads. Shit. “Right, sorry to bother you, folks.” Lilburn raised his voice. “Apologies for interrupting your journey. Thank you for your time.”
Lilburn was already on his mobile as the Greyhound to Binghamton pulled out into the highway and one startled driver and seventeen rattled passengers resumed their journey.
“Yes, sir, we did a thorough search. The driver said two scheduled passengers failed to turn up.”
Director Hall put down the phone. “Dammit, they weren’t on the bus.”
Immediately Director Lopez made a beeline for Nicco, while quietly uttering profanities under her breath. “Bring up that link to the bus terminal cameras. NOW.”
Chapter Fourteen
Once more Nicco brought back up on his screen the Port Authority Bus Terminal CCTV cameras. He quickly found the two men again by backing up the tapes; all eyes were focused as the bioterrorists purchased their tickets.
Director Hall instructed him to follow the two men, step by step, from that point on. Nicco expertly, jumping from camera to camera, kept the targets in sight.
“There.” Hall pointed to one of the multiple camera shots on the screen. “Targets entering that café.”
The small group around Nicco watched as the two men appeared to place an order and sat down at a table.
Hall noticed one of the men glanced at his wrist watch every so often. “That’s the third time he’s checked his watch, they’re waiting for something, or someone. Here we go, they’re off again. Keep on them, Nicco.”
Nicco tapped the keys and deployed the facial recognition software again. “Come on, baby… good girl.”
“What’s that? There, that door.” Director Lopez picked up the targets walking into a restroom. “Make sure we get them if they come out elsewhere.”
“They won’t, ma’am.” Luckily for Nicco, Lopez couldn’t see him rolling his eyes. “Only one way in and one way out.”
“You want to bet your job on that?” said Lopez.
Nicco snorted — he wasn’t concerned — he knew the coffee shop.
“Come on, we’re losing them! Search the other cameras now. Why isn’t facial recognition picking them up?” Lopez sounded irate.
“Speed up the camera, son.”
Nicco did just that; shortly the targets reappeared. One of the men could be seen checking the zip on his trousers as they left the men’s restroom.
They continued to concentrate on the screen in front of them — every so often Yusuf and Bashir disconcertingly disappeared from view. Invariably Nicco was the one who spotted them again. “That’s them… there… taking the escalator down to level two.”
Lopez nodded. “The Greyhound buses leave from there.”
Nicco pointed to the targets. “Just… about… to go from this camera and appear in this shot over here, in five, four, three…”
A large group of what appeared to be a tourist party, all walking close together, passed in front of the camera and obscured the view of the two men.
“Two… one… and here they… Where did you go, guys? Nicco looked from one camera screen shot to the next. “Hey dudes, where did you go?” His fingertips rattled the keyboard, searching, trying different cameras, different views. “Shit man, I can’t find them. Whoa, they ought to be there…”
“Find them!” Hall said.
Lopez was furious. “You lost them? They can’t just disappear!”
“I’m working on it, ma’am, don’t worry, facial recognition will pick them up.”
“How many minutes have they got to get to their bus?” asked Hall.
“Um… what time did I say the next bus was?”
“Eleven thirty.”
“OK then, let’s see, according to the camera we lost visual of them… at… at eleven twenty-one.”
Hall did the figures in his head. “They have eight or so minutes, time enough. What’s the time on the CCTVs now?”
“Eleven twenty-one… eleven twenty-two, sir.”
“Speed the tape again, go straight to the bus platform, take it forward to eleven-thirty.”
Nicco did so. “That’s the bus there, sir, just leaving.”
“Wind the tape back until the bus door shuts.” A few seconds later the still shot was on the screen. “Now reverse the tape, go slow, let’s see if they get aboard. Count the passengers.”
Nicco counted each and every one.
So did Hall. “Seventeen passengers, just as Lilburn said. Shit, we’ve lost them. Go back to where we last saw them, scour everything, see where the bastards went.”
Five minutes later all had drawn a blank; facial recognition had picked up nothing, none of them had picked up a face. The terrorists weren’t on the bus, they hadn’t even boarded. They had vanished.
“Wait, wait, wait!” Nicco had an idea. “The clothes they were wearing. What was the description?”
Hall stood up straight and bellowed out. “My notes, someone get those notes on the phone call I had with Lilburn, the names, the description of the clothes the two targets were wearing; move, people, move.”
There was a flurry of hands.
“Here it is, sir.”
Director Hall grabbed the notes. “Go to all exits of Port Authority, eleven twenty-two onwards, look for two distinct items of clothing, a white T-shirt with the words ‘Patriots for Patriots’, the other a black hoodie with ‘I love Montana’ on it. Both carrying blue duffel bags.”
It was Nicco who first noticed something. “There, leaving this entrance here!” When he blew up the shot, two men could be seen leaving by foot.
“Are you sure?” Hall leaned forward for a better look.
“Not really but…”
“For God’s sake, move on! They don’t look anything like them. Quit wasting time.” Lopez was adamant the two men in the screen shot were not their targets.
“No, I’m right, look, see what happens if I go back a few frames… See right there, that one at the front, read that writing under the jacket, it’s only a few letters but do you see it?”
Nicco froze the screen shot then zoomed in on two men walking one behind the other. At first glance these two seemed nothing like the descriptions given or the prior footage. Both men were bearded and wore jackets and baseball caps. However, both were carrying bags slung over their shoulders. Nicco zoomed in on the shot of the leading man — part of his body was obscured by nearby pedestrians but his upper torso was in shot. It showed the man’s unzipped jacket and the incomplete wording on the front of his white T-shirt, ‘…ots for Pa…’
Lopez still wasn’t convinced. “Those two have beards, for heaven’s sake.”
“No wait, ma’am. That white T-shirt, extrapolate the first and last words and what do we have? Patriots for Patriots.” Nicco had come up trumps again.
“Yes, we do. Yes, we damn well do.” Hall now had the slightest piece of a clue and he wasn’t about to let go. “Can you get closer to their faces?”
Nicco enlarged the first man’s face. The picture was grainy and not as productive as he liked. “Best I can do.”
Director Hall’s hope dwindled. “Can’t be sure… though the beards could be fake of course.”
Nicco wasn’t giving up. Bringing up the previous shots of the terrorists he studied the images thoughtfully. He had an idea. “The shoes… Look, on these last shots they’re wearing sneakers, the guy with the T-shirt has Nike and the other guy… has Adidas. Now back to the bearded jocks and… a match, it’s a match.”
Hall reeled back. “Christ, you’re right. They’ve put on jackets and caps.”
“And false beards. No wonder facial recognition didn’t pick them up.”
“Track them, I want to see where those sneaky bastards have gone. Suzanna,” Hall looked pleased as he turned to his fellow director. “We’re back on track.”