"Say you don't catch the rest of these assholes," Karp said. "When and where with the bomb?"
Kluge looked out the window. Albert stared at his feet. Jaxon twisted his mouth, then said, "If I was a betting man, tomorrow night, Times Square."
Karp rubbed his face with a hand. "I was afraid you were going to say that."
"We've intercepted a lot of radio and Internet traffic in the last few days," Kluge said. "It's jumped threefold and it seems clear that an Iraqi by the name of Hussan is coordinating the event. He also goes by several aliases-Ibn Abdul, Mustafa, Al-Sistani-and if we're correct about him being here we're in big trouble."
"We think he was on the ground in Manhattan on 9/11, coordinating and maybe checking out how the city reacted to a big disaster," Jaxon said. "He likes going for big spectacular splashes…airlines, embassy bombings, car bombs in crowded marketplaces, and, ironically, made-for-TV beheadings on Al Jazeera."
"Maybe we should shut it down," Karp said. "New Year's Eve on Times Square. Shut it down. Call it off."
The other three men glanced at each other. "Can't," Albert said.
"What do you mean 'can't'?"
"Comes from the top," Jaxon said. "The man in the Oval Office. And to be honest, he's got a point. Can you imagine what will happen if we suddenly go on high alert and someone finds out it's because terrorists have atomic weapons in this country and are preparing to use them? The media would go apeshit. It's one thing to screen airline passengers and make everybody feel safer again. But what if the public suddenly has to confront the fact that these guys can just load up a truck with ammonium nitrate, toss in a suitcase full of plutonium, drive it into the middle of their city, light a match, and turn it into a dead zone for the next hundred years?"
The room was quiet, as thoughts about the potential consequences settled around them like dust. "What do you need from me?" Karp replied.
"Just that if the NYPD or your own investigators turn up anything on who might have committed these three homicides, give us a shot at them," Jaxon said. "Obviously, whoever did these killings knew what they were doing and what's more, knew where to find the bad guys. We've been looking for the two dead ones for three years, and they turn up without their heads right under our noses."
"I'll do what I can," Karp said, "which doesn't seem like much given the circumstances. Does the NYPD know?"
"They know that they need to button down the place as tight as possible," Jaxon said. "They're keeping unauthorized vehicles away from the crowd; have plainclothes and uniforms all over the subways; and have swept the tunnels beneath Times Square. Airspace will be kept clear by armed Apache helicopters and F-16 fighters. But you can't account for everything or everyone. If we want to be sure, we need to find the bad guys and their bomb, but we don't have much time. I've got a SWAT team-the best of the best-ready to move; the problem is where."
Jaxon and the other two didn't linger. "I know that I don't need to tell you, but this has to stay strictly between us," the agent said as he opened the door. "And hey, maybe we'll get lucky. Maybe whoever killed these guys has already dumped the shit in the ocean."
"Yeah, and maybe tomorrow night's not New Year's Eve."
After the agents had left his office and he'd wrapped up the day, he went home where Marlene was waiting to fill him in on the Michalik case. By the time she finished, his stomach was in a knot. He immediately got on the telephone and told Kipman and Rachman they'd be meeting the next morning to discuss the case. Rachman, who thought it was to discuss bringing charges against Michalik, insisted that Ryder and her attorney, Schmellmann, be allowed to sit in. He didn't tell her that Marlene would be there, too.
The next day, as the others entered the conference room and sat down, Rachel Rachman pointedly remained standing with a hand on the shoulder of Sarah Ryder, who sat between her and Harvey Schmellmann. When everyone was settled-Karp turned from his conversation with Harry Kipman and Marlene, who sat on the opposite side of the table, and Schmellmann stopped trying to catch a glimpse of himself in the window-Rachman cleared her throat.
"I want it on record that I am opposed to the presence of Marlene Ciampi at this meeting," she said stiffly. "She is not only the attorney of record for the defendant-and this meeting was called to discuss filing formal charges-she is also your wife, which smacks of a conflict of interest." She didn't look at Marlene as she spoke but kept her eyes on Karp.
"Duly noted," he replied, at the same time wondering, Whatever happened to Rachman? When Marlene had recommended her to head the Sex Crimes Bureau, she'd been one of the best attorneys on the staff, dedicated and aggressive but not a zealot. Maybe it's my fault, he thought. Maybe I should have recognized the psychological toll of handling those kinds of cases all the time and reassigned her to something less…emotionally draining…white collar crime maybe, though I doubt she would have gone willingly.
Karp looked over at Clay Fulton, who lounged against a wall, lost in his own thoughts. Clay still walked with a bit of a limp, courtesy of a bullet he caught in the leg that past summer, but refused to take it easy on himself.
The night before Karp couldn't sleep. He tossed and turned and finally got out of bed and went to the living room and stood looking out the window at the empty sidewalks. He wanted to wake Marlene, tell her to get up, grab the boys, Lucy, Ned, and Gilgamesh and get the hell out of the city.
"Why?" she'd ask.
"Oh, because terrorists are planning on blowing up Times Square with atomic weapons," he'd reply.
But he couldn't tell her. It wasn't just that Jaxon had sworn him to secrecy-for all he knew, Jaxon, Kluge, and Albert had already put their families on planes for some place like Wisconsin. However, there was something about having insider information that the people who would gather to celebrate on Times Square didn't have. No, once again, New Yorkers would face the future together. But he was glad that it had been years since anyone in his family had wanted to go watch the ball drop.
"You okay?"
Karp turned and saw Marlene. She looked beautiful standing in the moonlight that poured in from the skylights. He thought about what he was going to have to do that day-bomb or no bomb. The only answer to terrorism was to continue living out their lives as best they could.
"I will be as soon as I tuck you back into bed," he said.
"You sure you meant to say tuck?" She laughed and turned back for their bedroom. He followed like a hound after the fox.
"Having noted your exceptions," he continued, "I'll explain why I asked for this meeting. First, and you know this full well, it is not unusual for this office to agree to meet with defense attorneys who request the opportunity to present reasons why their clients should not be charged with crimes. You will remember that it is this office's policy to seek justice, and if information is volunteered that might help us decide what is just, then we should listen. This is an informal meeting, which, by the way, is also why I agreed to allow Ms. Ryder and Mr. Schmellmann to attend."
"And we appreciate that, Mr. Karp," Schmellmann said. "We are confident that after we've heard this 'new information' you will feel comfortable going ahead with formal charges."
"Thank you, Mr. Schmellmann, for the vote of confidence," Karp said and turned back to Rachman. "Now, except for your duly noted objections, is there anything else or can we proceed?"