Black Friday

CHAPTER 79

Maggie tried to keep the panic from showing. It felt like something had her by the throat. She had to concentrate on breathing. She had to remind herself to slow down. Look by moving her eyes, not her head. Stay calm. Move nonchalantly. No nervous twitches. No jerks or twists around.

She tried to figure out who Patrick was looking at. None of the men around him looked like the sketch. The only olive complexion belonged to a guy with short, spiky sun-bleached hair, dressed in khakis and a navy blue jacket.

She eased her way toward the escalator.

"I have a remote," the voice came again over her headset. "You don't have any choice but to let me walk out of here."

No one answered him. There was silence. They could no longer talk to each other now. Their communication system was useless.

She started down the escalator and asked the woman next to her if she'd had a good holiday. The woman started telling her about her trip while Maggie smiled at her and looked over her shoulder. Patrick looked miserable. He glanced in her direction. She wasn't sure if he'd seen her. Then suddenly she saw him raise his hand. He jerked a finger in one direction and ended up pushing back his hair. He had pointed to someone. He was giving them a signal, telling them who the Project Manager was.

Maggie came off the escalator, turning in Patrick's direction. She was close enough now to catch his eyes. He flicked his away, looking over in the same direction he had pointed.

The Project Manager had to be the man in the navy blue jacket and khakis. He was walking away, headed toward an exit but able to keep an eye on Patrick.

"You'll let me leave," he said and this time she could see his lips move. He still hadn't noticed her, and he no longer looked from side to side.

Kunze was closest to Patrick. He and the cleaning woman were edging their way forward. It didn't look like he had identified the Project Manager yet. Maggie examined the railing above, but she couldn't see Wurth. Was she the only one?

She looked back at Patrick and this time their eyes met. He pointed again and mouthed something to her. He was telling her to go after him. Don't let him get away. But how could she leave Patrick chained to a suitcase bomb?

The Project Manager was at the front doors, walking out. What would stop him from detonating the bomb once he was out of impact range? She had to stop him.

Maggie waved at Kunze to help Patrick. He moved in with the cleaning woman and her cart. Maggie took off running, dodging her way around passengers. She dug her right hand under her jacket, gripped the butt of her Smith amp; Wesson but kept it in its shoulder holster.

She slammed out the door onto the sidewalk and stopped. She'd seen him turn to his right but she couldn't see him now through the line of curb-side checkins. She pushed her way through, stumbling over luggage and feet. He was there, up ahead, five car lengths, getting into the passenger side of a black sedan. Maggie shoved herself between startled passengers but the car was already pulling away. She saw the license plate and watched helplessly as it sped away.

Out of breath, she leaned against a concrete bench. And that's when it happened. The explosion sent vibrations under her feet almost knocking her over.

It was too late. She was too late.