The Fix

Chapter 80

They worked their way down the tunnel, finally coming to a junction where they saw a single beam of light from far above them.

Brown pointed her phone light that way. “It’s the underside of the manhole,” she hissed. “The light is coming from the grab hole in the plate.”

“Which means we’re under the street,” said Decker. “Way under the street.”

“This must be what that manhole work was about,” said Brown. “They were somehow connecting up from the building we were in to this utility tunnel.” They hurried along and finally came to another junction. There was rubble and dirt piled up.

“They also broke through here,” said Decker. “This appears to be where the utility tunnel originally ended.”

They passed through the hole and into another tunnel.

“How did all this happen right under the street and no one notice?” said Mars.

“It’s not right under the street,” replied Brown. “We’ve been angling down this whole time. My guess is we’re over thirty feet down and there’s tons of dirt above us. Natural soundproofing.”

They kept walking.

“So where the hell are we now?” asked Mars, looking nervously around.

Decker glanced at Brown. She looked ominously back at him. She said, “I think we’re under the Hoover Building.”

They kept moving forward until they reached another hole punched in the wall. Only this one bled off to the side of the tunnel they were in.

They cautiously entered a large space. They moved forward and rounded a corner. Another hole had been broken through the wall here. As they drew closer to it all three immediately began to cough and wheeze.

“What the hell is that?” gasped Mars.

“It’s gas,” said Decker, who pulled his jacket over his nose and mouth.

He crouched and passed through the hole and into another room. There were enormous blackened concrete columns, a low ceiling, and a pile of rubble in the center of the room.

His mouth and nose still covered, Decker looked down at the hole next to the pile of rubble. An exposed pipe was lying in the trench. It looked to him like a long, venomous serpent.

Brown and Mars, their mouths and noses covered as well, joined him and stared down at the pipe. There was a hissing sound coming from the trench.

“The pipe’s been compromised,” Brown said hoarsely. “That’s where the gas is coming from.”

“Shouldn’t they have sensors or alarms for this?” said Decker.

Brown pointed to the ceiling where several white-domed devices were attached. “They do, both. But I bet they’ve been bypassed somehow.”

“What’s that thing?” said Mars, pointing to the right.

Brown and Decker looked there. And both of them froze.

It was a cylindrical metal device with wires coming out of the top. It looked like an oxygen tank that a scuba diver would use. It was attached to the pipe.

Brown immediately said, “It’s a bomb.”

“And it’s got a timer,” said Decker.

The flashing digital clock was counting down. There were four minutes to go.

“It looks too small to do too much damage,” said Mars. “Especially all the way down here.”

Brown shook her head and coughed. “The bomb’s only the trigger. This place is full of gas. That’s where the explosive punch is going to come from.” She looked over at the columns. “And I’m betting those are load-bearing. The bomb goes off, the gas ignites, and those columns are going to go.”

Decker added, “And the entire Hoover Building and everyone in it are going to come down. It’s like how they implode buildings scheduled for demolition.”

“Let’s just take the bomb and get it out of here, then,” said Mars.

He reached for it, but Brown grabbed his hand. “No. Do you see those blue wires? They’re accelerators. You take it off the pipe the countdown clock goes to zero. And boom.”

“How do you know that?”

“She was a bomb specialist in the Army,” answered Decker.

Brown said, “Decker, you’ve got to call Bogart and tell him to get the President out of here and then evacuate this place. Now. Don’t make the call from in here. I have no idea if something in the phone might either set off the gas or accelerate the countdown. And you probably can’t get reception here anyway.”

“But—”

“Decker, move your ass. This is what I did for a living. Go! It’s the President, for God’s sake.”

“Okay, but—”

“Just go!”

‘I’m staying with you,” said Mars. “I can help.”

“You can do jack shit. Now go with Decker. I’ll be along when I’m done.”

“But Harper—”

She screamed, “Dammit, Melvin, I’ve got three minutes to do this. Get out of here!”

Decker grabbed Mars’s arm and pulled him away.

They reached the hole and went through it. Mars looked back at Brown, coughing and wheezing, her jacket over her nose and mouth, as she squatted over the bomb.

Then he and Decker raced down the tunnel. When they were far enough away from the gas he got a signal and called Bogart.

All Bogart said was, “Got it.”

Decker looked at his watch.

Mars did too. “Two damn minutes,” he said, staring at Decker. “I got to go back, Decker. I got to go help her.”

“Me too.”

They ran back down the tunnel. When they got close the gas was now so thick that they clutched their heads and staggered. Mars hit the wall, and Decker nearly sank to his knees, his head pounding.

“Come on!” screamed Mars, righting himself.

They stumbled down the tunnel, reached the hole, and fell through it. Both men were violently sick to their stomachs.

“Harper!” called out Mars.

He had dropped his phone and couldn’t see in the darkness.

Far above, Decker thought he heard rumblings.

They were evacuating the building, his muddled mind realized.

He and Mars got up and staggered forward, but they were now both disoriented as the gas overwhelmed their brains and their lungs.

“We’ve got to find her, fast!” said Decker. “Before we pass out.”

“Over there,” Mars managed to say.

They crawled forward.

The pile of rubble was still there.

But there was no sign of Brown.

Gasping, Mars reached the hole first. Decker joined him a second later. They both stared down at the burning red numbers on the detonator.

They were not moving.

They were stuck at four seconds.

Two wires had been pulled free from the device.

“Where’s Harper?” gasped Mars.

Decker, his jacket pulled over his mouth and nose, looked groggily around. Harper Brown had fallen into the tunnel two feet from the bomb, her body wedged between the pipe and the wall. Decker reached down, grabbed her arm, and pulled. Mars saw what he was doing, jumped across the hole, and helped him. With their combined strength, they quickly pulled her up. Mars slung her over his shoulder.

They stumbled to the hole in the wall and then picked up speed, racing along and occasionally bouncing off the walls of the tunnel. When they were far enough away to where they couldn’t smell the gas, they stopped and Mars set Brown down. They sucked in air, their heads clearing. Brown’s eyes were closed. She was turning blue. And there was something else.

“Decker, she’s not breathing!” screamed Mars. He dropped to the floor of the tunnel and started performing CPR, pumping her chest.

“Help me, Decker, help me!”

Decker dropped down next to him and started breathing into Brown’s mouth after pinching closed her nose.

“Come on, come on, breathe,” pleaded Mars. “Please, Harper, please. Don’t go. Don’t leave.”

He kept pumping.

And Decker kept breathing.

And despite all that, Harper Brown remained still.