Deadlock

16

It was early morning when Chance once again shuffled through the metal detector in the lobby of the Federal Building. This visit, she’d still worn an underwire bra but also a crop top, which emphasized the fact she was pregnant. The metal detector beeped and she was asked to stand to one side. It was a different female guard this time, which came as a relief. The woman wanded Chance with the handheld detector, which sounded as it passed over Chance’s chest and lower abdomen. Then she moved on to patting her down.

As the female guard moved her hand over Chance’s belly, Chance winced.

‘You OK?’ asked the guard.

‘Sorry, I’m just a little tender there.’

Chance could read the female guard’s discomfort. She finished the search by moving her hands away quickly down Chance’s legs and checking the soles of her shoes.

‘OK, ma’am, you have a nice day.’

Chance slipped away towards the bank of elevators and headed up to the tenth floor. There, she walked briskly towards the disabled bathroom. She locked the door behind her, pulled off her jeans and panties, lowered the toilet seat and set about retrieving the package of cellophane-wrapped C4 explosive and detonator cap from inside her vaginal cavity. She placed the package in the sink, pulled her panties and jeans back on, and slipped off her bra. In less than ten seconds she had pulled the length of wire from her bra, which she now stuffed into her bag, taking out a newly bought cell phone as she did so.

With all the components in front of her, she set to work. In less than five minutes the IED was assembled and placed behind the toilet. She crossed to the sink and carefully washed her hands, using a brush she’d brought with her to remove any remaining residue from under her fingernails.

She left the bathroom, caught the elevator back down to the lobby and left via the revolving glass door on the opposite side of the building from which she’d entered.

A few blocks from the courthouse, Chance clambered into the cab of her red pick-up truck. Her old friend Cowboy was driving, his trademark black-velvet-brimmed Stetson pulled down low, obscuring emerald-green eyes. Next to him sat Trooper, two hundred pounds of muscle topped off by a mane of long blond hair which always reminded Chance of the actor Mickey Rourke in that movie about the down-at-heel wrestler.

Trooper put an arm round her shoulder. ‘You OK?’

‘Fine,’ Chance said, enjoying having them both near her again.

Cowboy signaled before pulling out into traffic. ‘You get it placed?’

Chance smiled across at him. ‘Sure did. Now all I have to do is make a phone call.’