There seemed no one else in authority who was unoccupied, and Nim beaded to where he had seen the fire extinguisher placed.
"Mr. Goldman! Mr. Goldman!" the call came from his right and a small man in civilian clothes, with a metal badge pinned to his breast pocket, hurried forward. Nim recognized Art Romeo, the shifty-appearing little deputy to Harry London in the Property Protection Department. The shield Nim realized, was that of a GSP & L security officer, but it appeared to be giving Romeo authority.
Much later, Nim would discover that Art Romeo had been visiting the hotel, and was sharing a nocturnal poker game with out-of-town cronies from another utility, when the alarm was given. He had promptly pinned on his security badge and helped with the evacuation.
"Mr. Goldman, you must go outside!"
"Forget that! I need help." Nim hurriedly explained about the fire extinguisher which he suspected was a bomb.
"Where is it, sir?"
"Over here." Nim strode to where he had been seated yesterday and pulled a chair aside. The red extinguisher was where the young man in coveralls had left it.
Art Romeo's voice took on authority. "Move away! Get out! Go!"
"No, it has to be . . ."
What happened next occurred so quickly that Nim had trouble afterward recalling the sequence of events.
He heard Romeo shout, "Officers! Over here!" Suddenly two brawny policemen were beside Nim, and Romeo was telling them, "This man refuses to leave. Take him outside!"
Without questioning the order, the policemen seized Nim and roughly frog-marched him toward the main front door. As Nim was thrust through it he managed to glance back. The little figure of Art Romeo had lifted the fire extinguisher and, with it clasped in his arms, was following.
Ignoring Nim's protests, the policemen continued shoving him toward the evacuation area two blocks distant. When he was within a few yards of it, they released him. One said, "If you come back, mister, we'll arrest you and you'll be taken downtown and charged. We're doing this for your own good."
At that same instant there was the mighty roar of an explosion, followed by a cacophony of shattering glass.
In the days which followed, based on eyewitness accounts and official reports, it was possible to piece the various happenings together.
Using the information Nancy Molineaux: had given the police operations center, obtained from the tape recordings and her notes, the bomb squad knew they had to look for high explosive bombs on the hotel's main floor and mezzanine, incendiary bombs on the floors above. They had located-or so they thought-all the high explosive bombs and, with Army aid, removed them.
A bomb squad spokesman said next day, "In the circumstances, we and the Army boys took chances we wouldn't have normally. We gambled that we'd have time to do what we did, and the gamble paid off. If we'd been wrong about the timing, God help us all!"
The bomb squad had been wrong, however, in believing they had located all the high explosive bombs. The one they missed was the one Nim remembered.
By the time Art Romeo had bravely picked up the bomb, staggered with it from the hotel, and taken it to the area from where the disposal trucks had been shuttling, all the bomb squad members were on upper floors of the hotel, working frantically to clear the fire bombs.
Consequently, after Art Romeo set the high explosive bomb down, no one else was close when, seconds later, it exploded. Romeo was blown to pieces instantly. Almost every window in adjoining blocks was shattered, as was the glass in nearby vehicles. But miraculously, incredibly, no one else was hurt.
As the roar of the explosion died, several women screamed and men cursed.
The explosion also marked a psychological turning point. No one, anymore, questioned the need for the emergency exodus. Talking, among the displaced hotel guests, was noticeably more subdued. Some, abandoning any idea of returning to the Christopher Columbus, began to leave the scene quietly, making their own arrangements for the remainder of the night.
But within the hotel, although no guests remained, the action was not yet over.
Out of the nearly twenty fire bombs which Georgos Archambault and his fellow terrorists placed on upper floors, eight were not located and removed in time; they detonated shortly after 3 am fierce fires resulted.
It was more than an hour before all were brought under control; by then the floors where they occurred were a sodden, burned-out shambles. It was clear to all concerned that, without the advance warning and evacuation, the death toll would have been enormous.
As it was, two policemen and three firemen died. Two more firemen were badly injured. All were close to the fire bombs which exploded.
As dawn succeeded darkness, mopping up continued.
Most former guests of the Christoper Columbus were provided with makeshift accommodations elsewhere. Later in the day, those who could would return to collect their belongings and begin a dispirited trek home.
By unanimous agreement which no one even bothered discussing, the NEI convention was abandoned.
Nim took Ruth, Leah and Benjy home in a taxi. He had wished to thank Nancy Molineaux for her phone call, but observing her still a center of attention for some reason, he decided to do it later.
As Nim and his family left, morgue wagons were joining the other vehicles at the scene.
* * *
Soon after the explosion which killed Art Romeo, Georgos Archambault was sobbing as be ran toward where his "Fire Protection Service" truck was parked.
It had all gone wrong! Everything!
Georgos couldn't understand it.
Some thirty-five minutes earlier, just after 2:25 am, be had been puzzled to hear many sirens approaching the area where he was waiting in the pickup. Moments later, fire engines and police cars sped past, obviously headed for the Christopher Columbus. As minutes went by, the activity increased and more vehicles followed. Georgos was now thoroughly alarmed.
At twenty to three be could wait no longer. He got out of the truck, locked it, and walked toward the hotel, getting as close as he could before a barrier of police cars stopped him.
He was near enough to see-to his great dismay-people streaming from the hotel, many in nightclothes, and being urged by police and firemen to move faster.
Those people were supposed to stay inside until the bombs went off and the hotel was burning! then it would be too late to leave.
Georgos wanted to wave his arms and shout, "Go back! Go back!" But, despairingly, he knew it would have no effect and only draw attention to himself. Then, while he watched, some of his carefully planted fire extinguisher bombs were carried from the hotel by people who had no right to interfere with them, and then were rushed away in trucks, preventing what Georgos had so painstakingly planned. He thought: If he had only booby-trapped the bombs, as he could have done with extra work, they could never have been moved. But he had been so confident that nothing would go wrong. Now it had, robbing Friends of Freedom of their glorious victory.
That was when Georgos began to cry.
Even when he heard the high explosive bomb go off in the street, it did not console him and he turned away.
How had it happened? Why had he failed? In what devious way had the enemy found out? He watched the firemen and police-blind, ignorant slaves of fascist capitalism-with bitterness and anger. At that point, Georgos realized that his own identity might now be known, that perhaps he was in personal peril, and he began to run. The pickup truck was just as he had left it. No one seemed to notice him as he unlocked the truck and drove away, though lights were going on in nearby buildings and sightseers were hurrying toward the hotel, attracted by the sound and activity. Instinctively Georgos beaded for Crocker Street, then wondered: Was it safe?