Solomon's Gold

CHAPTER 55

"What's the word?" Ronnie asked.

"The best guess is that Dayoud is going to release the gas in the subway system," Nick said. "It's where he can do the most damage. The gas will take a long time to disperse."

"But where in the system?" Selena asked.

"We can't cover it all. Freddie identified four high probability locations in Manhattan."

He ran them by the others.

"I think we can eliminate the 42^nd St. stop," Selena said. "There will be plenty of people watching for him to show up anywhere near Times Square."

"I agree. That leaves the other three," Nick said. "Ronnie, you take Union Square. Lamont, you head up to Lexington and 53^rd. Selena, you and I will go to Grand Central. It's the highest probability of the three and it's a big space."

"Hey, Carter."

Lieutenant Holland came forward with papers in his hand.

"I've got the new artist sketch for you."

He handed one out to each of them. "Amin says it's pretty good."

"This will help a lot," Nick said. He looked at the sketch. Then he told Holland about the subway stops.

"I'll pass it on to the transit authority and tell them you're coming," Holland said.

"Can you give us transportation?"

"Yeah, I can do that. Traffic's bad, like it always is, but we can usually get somewhere faster than a cab. I'll have cars meet you outside."

"Thanks."

"Happy hunting," Holland said.

They waited in the warm evening, outside the station.

"Man, I like this warm weather," Lamont said. "Feels like spring."

"Don't get used to it," Ronnie said. "It's supposed to drop into the thirties tomorrow."

"Listen up," Nick said. "This guy were going after knows he's going to die. Hell, he wants to die. That means he's got nothing to lose. Don't screw around if you see him. Just put him down. Don't give him an opportunity to be all that he wants to be. Whatever you do, don't put a hole in that container of gas. If you do, you'd better run like hell for the street level and hope you get there ahead of it."

"I love these optimistic pep talks, coach," Lamont said.

"Here come our rides," Ronnie said.

Three police cars pulled up in front of the station.

"We'll meet back here later," Nick said. "This should all be over in a few hours."

He and Selena climbed into the first car. There was no room in front for two passengers. Nick got in back. The back seat smelled of vomit.

The cop behind the wheel said, "Sorry about the smell. I had a drunk throw up back there a couple of hours ago. Where we goin'?"

"Grand Central," Selena said.

The cop let them off near the Park Avenue entrance and drove away.

Nick looked up at the façade of the building.

"That's a fancy clock up there."

Selena said, "It's called the 'Glory of Commerce.' The sculptures around the clock are Minerva, Hercules and Mercury. Come on, we can do the tour later."

They entered the station and another world. They were in the Grand Concourse, a cavernous space that rivaled a European cathedral. The ceiling was a hundred and twenty-five feet high. The floor stretched away for the length of a football field. Hundreds of people moved back and forth like ants, dwarfed by the gigantic dimensions. A huge American flag hung at one end from the ceiling. Rows of ticket booths lined the wall.

"Where do we start?" Nick asked. "This is overwhelming."

"There are signs over there for the subway," Selena said. "It looks like seven lines come through here."

"Great. I'll bet every one of them has a separate platform."

They started down to the lower levels, where the train and subway platforms were located. There were people all around them.

They came to the shuttle platform for the IRT. Signs with arrows pointed at steps leading down to the Lexington Avenue line and the Flushing line. Most of the crowd seemed to be moving in that direction.

They scanned the platform but there was no sign of anyone looking like the sketch of Dayoud.

"I vote we go down," Nick said. "The lower he goes, the more people he can kill."

"Makes sense," Selena said.

They moved down the steps, pushing through the crowd and drawing angry comments. They came out in the middle of the platform for the Lexington Avenue line. Hundreds of people waited for the next train.

"There are too many people," Selena said. "He could be anywhere."

"You take that end," Nick said, "I'll go the other way. Be careful."

Nick turned left, his hand on the pistol in his shoulder holster. He scanned the people on the platform. No one looked like Dayoud. He got to the end of the platform and started back. In the distance he heard the rumble of an approaching train.

That was when he saw Dayoud, holding a black carryall bag in his hand. He was standing in shadow, behind a steel column.

He's waiting for the train to stop. When people start getting off, he'll set off his bomb.

Dayoud hadn't seen him. Nick drew his pistol and crossed to the other side of the platform, hoping to get up behind him. Dayoud hadn't survived as long as he had without developing a sixth sense of danger. He turned when Nick was still ten feet away.

"Stop," he said.

Dayoud had a clacker in his hand. A wire ran from the detonator down his sleeve. Nick saw it emerge from under his shirt and enter the black bag.

Nick stopped where he was and aimed his pistol. But if he shot him, Dayoud could still squeeze the lever and release the gas.

A woman screamed. "That man's got a gun!"

The people on the platform panicked and began running toward the stairs. Nick could feel the air pressure change as a train neared the station.

Dayoud held up his hand with the detonator and smiled.

"Goodbye, American."

The train roared into the station, the sound drowning everything out. The front of Dayoud's throat erupted in a spray of red. The detonator dropped from his hand. He collapsed in a heap, like a puppet with cut strings.

The bag with the sarin hit the platform. Nick held his breath.

People started to get off the train. They saw Dayoud lying crumpled on the platform and Nick with a pistol in his hand. There were more screams, as some tried to run and others pushed back into the train. The doors closed. The train left the station. In minutes, the platform was empty. Selena walked toward him, her pistol in her hand, pointed down at the platform. The laser sight on her pistol made a moving red dot on the smooth concrete. Beyond her, Nick saw three transit cops running down the steps.

"You took that shot?" Nick asked.

"He was going to set it off," she said.

"What if you'd missed?"

"How could I miss with a laser? It was the only way to stop him pressing the lever. I knew he wouldn't be able to complete the movement if I cut his brainstem."

"You cut his wires all right," Nick said. "Good shot."

"Freeze! Do it now!"

"Don't move," Nick said. "Do what they say."

"Drop the guns. Drop them."

Nick and Selena dropped their weapons.

Nick called down the platform. "We're government agents."

One of the cops fired. The bullet struck Nick in the chest, knocking him backward. His head hit the platform and everything went black.