“Get in.”
Smith lurched to the passenger’s side, wrenched open the door, and collapsed inside. His feet weren’t off the ground when Russell slammed the car into reverse. She hit the gas and the car shot back, bouncing off the curb, the front swinging into place as she twisted the steering wheel. The rear window on the passenger side cracked and Smith heard the bullet whiz past. Smith was still wrestling with the door when Russell shifted into drive and the car jumped ahead. She drove down the street and turned at the first corner. Despite all the motion around him, Smith was having a hard time staying awake. He tried to thank Russell for saving him, but his lips wouldn’t follow his brain’s command and form the words. She seemed to deform in front of his eyes, her body undulating like a flag in the wind. He knew it was the tranquilizer setting in, but he couldn’t bring himself to care at that particular moment. He decided to let the languor take him and he closed his eyes.
40
Manhar emerged from the truck near the 191st Street subway station. They’d dropped off a first crew at the 72nd Street subway entrance and now the rest filed out. Manhar wore a reflective vest and a hardhat. It was ten o’clock at night, well past rush hour. Rajiid was laying out orange street cones in a circle around the truck and added a horse with a sign that said “Men at Work.” Next to that he placed a yellow plastic model of a man holding a red flag. He went back to the trailer and began giving orders. Soon the men had used the poles and canvas to create a large cube that screened the area from prying eyes. They arranged the cube to hide the grates over the subway.
“You.” Rajiid waved at Manhar. “Get the tool to open the hydrant. The others will get the hose.” Within minutes they had attached a fire hose to the hydrant. They removed one of the grate portions and stuck the end of the hose in it. Rajiid waved at Manhar. “Open the hydrant.” Manhar did and the hose inflated as gallons of water ran through it.
“What now?” Manhar said.
“Now we wait.”
Manhar was confused. “Wait for what?”
Rajiid smiled. “For the water to flood the station and the MTA to shut down the power to this track.” Manhar looked at the hose as it pulsed and listened to the water as it gushed downward.
“Will that work?”
Rajiid nodded. “The infrastructure is old and this and three other stations are vulnerable to flooding. We’re flooding two stops in a row in addition to Seventy-second Street. It won’t take long.” Manhar listened to the water flowing.
“I can hear it, it’s true, but you’re thinking they’ll shut down the whole station?”
Rajiid smiled. “I’ve been planning this for two years. They’ll shut it down. Go get the poles and canvas. We’ll need to screen off a portion of the platform downstairs.”
One hour later an employee of the MTA drove up to the truck. Rajiid slipped a gun into his waistband, covered it with the edge of the reflective vest, and strolled out to greet him before he could walk behind the barrier. The employee waved at the canvas.
“The station is flooding.” The man pointed to the sky. “But there’s no rain.”
“Water main leak. We’re working on it. Have them shut down the power. Should only take twenty minutes at the most.”
The employee sighed. “I’ll let the Rail Control Center know. Give me a little time.”
Rajiid shrugged. “We’ll wait. Water will short out the switches.”
The man sighed. “I’ll let ’em know to send out a crew.”
Rajiid nodded. “Good enough.”
The man walked away. Rajiid stepped back into the barrier. “Get the coolers. You,” he indicated Manhar, “come with me. The rest stay up here and keep pumping that water.”
Manhar watched as the flunky he’d ridden with in the back of the truck grabbed two coolers and followed Rajiid into the station. Manhar paused. He couldn’t decide. Run now? But to where? In which direction? He still had no idea what Rajiid was planning. After a moment he headed downstairs. The station smelled of wet mud overlaid with the scent of old garbage. Water pounded from the grate above, the deluge hitting the third rail in a stream. The area around the track was filling fast. Manhar looked up at a camera.
“What about those?”
Rajiid shook his head. “We knocked them out.”
“Turned off the electricity?”
“No. That would raise suspicion. Just disconnected the cable line at a source that feeds into the station.”
“Why is the water rising so quickly?” Manhar asked.
“We also knocked out two sump pumps. This will overload the track.” Rajiid smiled. The water kept pouring down. Portions of the stream let off a rising vapor.
“Is that steam?” Manhar said.
Rajiid nodded. “Six hundred volts in the third rail. It’s heating the water, which will eventually start to boil. When it does, the switches will short out.” He looked at his watch. “An hour at the most. Less if that rail employee does his job and arranges to shut down this section.”
He waved at the flunky. “Put the coolers there and set up the screen. Help him,” he said to Manhar.
The flunky dropped the cooler and began to arrange the poles. A train rumbled into the station, driving right through the flow of water and splattering it in all directions. The doors opened with a swish. Several people got off and hurried to the exit, barely sparing a glance at Manhar. The train doors closed and the car rumbled away. The screen was up, the coolers stashed behind it, and Manhar headed to where Rajiid was watching the waterfall.
“But if you’re going to use sarin or mustard gas, shouldn’t you do it while the station is full? It won’t be if it’s shut down.” Manhar hoped his question about sarin gas would prompt Rajiid to tell him what he really had planned.
Rajiid raised an eyebrow. “What makes you think we’re using gas?”
“I saw containers of mustard gas in the trucks. And then you have these.” Manhar indicated the coolers.
“We have the gas, yes, but only for an emergency. If we used that, they’d shut the subway once it was discovered and most would flee. We’d end up killing only a few. This is much more efficient. It will kill thousands. But the electricity to the rail has to be turned off first. So, we wait.”
Rajiid walked to the far end and crouched down, watching the water flow. Manhar crouched next to him, sweating as he watched the water rise.
41
Dattar hauled back his fist and punched Nolan in the face. Khalil was holding her in place by grasping both of her arms behind her back. They were in the rear of a van, heading toward the 191st Street station where Rajiid waited for the subway tracks to short-circuit.
“Give me the location and access to my money.”
Nolan’s head hung down and she remained that way. For a moment Dattar thought that perhaps she was unconscious, but Khalil wrenched one of her arms tighter behind her and she gave a moan. Dattar took out a knife from his boot.
“Put her hand down.” Khalil switched up his position and held Nolan’s palm against the bottom of the van. Dattar stabbed downward, and the knife pierced the meat of her hand between the first finger and thumb. The point went clean through. She jerked, but didn’t make a sound.
“I want my money. You have ten minutes to tell me where it is. If you don’t, we kill Smith.”
She looked up.
Ahh, so that’s what gets to her, Dattar thought.
He could see the enormous effort that she was exerting not to react to the pain from the knife. The van lurched to a stop. Dattar yanked the point from her hand.
“Get out.” He waved at her and Khalil opened the back doors and dragged her from the vehicle. Her hand bled profusely but she ignored it.