“At this moment in time, no, you’re not,” she says.
“Then I need to leave, right now.”
“I’m afraid that’s out of the question. You're still in our custody for questioning, and we have twenty-four hours before we legally have to charge you with something and place you under arrest. You can't just leave. You heard the phone call. They’re coming for you, Adrian. I can’t just let you back out on the streets alone — I’d be putting you at risk. Not to mention any collateral damage that could potentially cause harm to the people of this city. Whoever’s behind this has already shown they have no regard for the consequences of their actions.”
“Why, Grace, I never knew you cared so much…”
I smile, but she remains stoic in her opposition of my request.
“I will not put any more people at risk until we know more about who we’re dealing with and what their plans are.”
There’s a knock at the door and Agent Johnson enters. He looks flustered and out of breath.
“Ma’am, they’re on the phone right now, asking for you,” he says.
“Who is?” she asks.
He looks at me momentarily.
“The terrorist, ma’am.”
Chambers looks at me and I smile.
“What are we waiting for?” I ask. “Let’s go and say Hi.”
5
Chambers walks out of the room in a hurry, leaving Johnson in the doorway.
“Follow me,” he says.
He disappears, so Josh and I head out of the door and down the corridor after him. Halfway down on the right, it branches out into an open plan area full of desks and phones and FBI agents busying themselves with their work. We carry on as the corridor doglegs to the left. We come out into another office space, slightly smaller than the one we just past. On the left hand side of the room are a couple of desks with chairs either side. On each desk are more laptops and telephones. The furniture looks like an IKEA clearance sale. It’s all standard with a beech wood finish. The carpet is a navy blue and the fluorescent lights on the tiled ceiling overhead are buzzing away happily. The FBI agents in here stop and stare at us as we walk in.
Have you ever seen those old western movies, where the hero walks into a bar and the music stops and everyone turns to look at them? The hustle and bustle, the chatter, and the piano all goes quiet to the point where you can hear a mouse fart. And they all take a simultaneous breath in…
It’s like that.
Josh looks at me and smiles. I simply shake my head and continue across the floor, toward a conference room in the far right corner that I can see Chambers entering.
Inside, there’s a large table in the middle with several chairs along both sides. Agent Wallis is standing over by a large television screen on the back wall with a phone to his ear and his hand over the mouthpiece. In the center of the table is a black speakerphone system used for teleconferences. Chambers is standing near it on the opposite side of the table to the door, leaning over it and resting on both hands.
She looks at me as I walk in. Johnson stays at the door, turning to face the other agents and giving them instructions. I guess they’ll be recording and tracing the call.
She points to the chairs then puts her finger to her lips. Josh and I sit down and observe. She looks over at Agent Wallis, who gives her the thumbs-up.
“This is Agent Chambers,” she says out loud. “Who am I speaking to?”
After a few moments of silence, the same low, distorted voice I heard a few minutes ago comes on the line.
“Have you done as I asked?” the voice says.
“If you mean, have we managed to apprehend Adrian Hell, then yes, we have. I guess I should thank you for the tip-off?”
“Put him on the phone.”
“I can’t do that until you give me something. I want to work with you to resolve this, not against you. Can you tell me your name?”
There’s silence again. Everyone in the room exchanges tense and worried looks.
“Call me… The Shark. Now put him on the phone. I know he’s listening.”
Agent Chambers looks at me and shrugs, gesturing with her hand, giving me the go-ahead to talk. I look at Josh for any last words of wisdom before I open my mouth and cause mayhem. He holds his hands up in resignation.
I officially have total freedom to talk to a terrorist, who’s already attacked the city twice, all in the name of playing a game with me. I have to handle this delicately.
“Hey, Nutsack, it’s Adrian,” I say. “What kind of a name is ‘The Shark’ anyway? You sound like a really shit comic book character. The kind of expendable doodle that doesn’t make it past the first issue because they’re killed off in spectacularly fashion by our well-drawn hero. Which, in this instance, I guess would be me.”
Have you not been paying attention? I don’t do delicate.
There’s more silence on the line, which I rightly or wrongly take as I sign to continue antagonizing them.
“Oh, have I offended you? I’m sorry, Jaws, I didn’t realize you were such a sensitive soul.”
On the other side of the table, Agent Chambers rests her head in her hands. In the corner, Agent Wallis is trying to hold back a smile.
“I’d heard you had a mouth on you,” replies The Shark, finally. “You should really learn some manners, Adrian.”
“Tell you what, you stop randomly killing people and I’ll address you as… Mr. Shark. How’s that?”
“My killings aren’t random, Adrian. I’m sure you and your friend have figured that out by now.”
“Yeah, we got your messages. Not very subtle. The shootings were particularly amateurish, if I was honest. But nevertheless, we’re here. So what do you want?”
“I want you, Adrian. I want your head on a spike, for the world to see.”
“Mom, is that you?”
Josh laughs out loud involuntarily before clasping his hand over his mouth to suppress any further outburst.
“You think this is a game, Adrian?” says the voice, clearly losing its patience.
“Oh, sorry — was I supposed to be taking you seriously?” I ask. “I figured you’re just a nut-job with a grudge that’s been dying to find an excuse to squeeze off a few rounds and get their fifteen minutes of fame, and I’ve seen no evidence to the contrary.”
“You took everything from me, you sonofabitch! I will have my vengeance.”
“So tell me who you are, and I’ll come and apologize to you, all nice and civilized.”
“You’ll find out soon enough, Adrian. In the meantime, I have another message for you. And I want to give you this one in person.”
“Great — we’re at the FBI Field Office, just come on over and we can talk about it.”
“I think not. You have one hour to come and get the message, or there will be penalties. You want to treat this like a game? Fine, let’s play a game, Adrian.”
“Great, so, where do you want me?”
“In the parking lot of the California Academy of Sciences, there is a school bus. On that bus are forty-three schoolchildren and three teachers. Underneath the bus is a brick of C4. Do the math, Adrian. Be there in sixty minutes, or there’ll be a large hole filled with small body parts.”
The line clicks dead and there’s a split-second where everyone in the room holds their breath and looks at each other, the panic clear on their faces.
“Huh…” I say, somewhat numb with shock.
Normal time and speed resumes, and Chambers strides purposefully out of the room, barking orders at everyone outside. All around organized chaos erupts, the likes of which I’ve never seen.
The room quickly empties and everyone dashes to their respective desks, shouting to each other as they go. Chambers walks into the center of the open plan office as she takes her firearm out of her holster to check the magazine is full; the standard FBI issue Glock 22 pistol, with a clip that holds seventeen .40 caliber Smith and Wesson rounds. Everyone quickly huddles around Chambers’ desk as she outlines the plan. Josh and I stay at the back, just outside the conference room, out of the way. I figure it’s best to let them get on with it.