The masonry supply thing wasn't quite right either. They weren't pouring concrete yet, and there were no cement mixers on the site. And if they were delivering something like steel mesh or rebars, they'd use a flatbed truck. So what was in that big trailer?
And why did Khalil choose the WTC site to meet me? Well, for the symbolism, as he'd said. I get it… but…
I sat up. "Holy shit."
"John? Are you all right?"
"No."
"What's the matter?"
"Hold on." I was pretty sure I knew what was in that trailer-and I knew, too, it hadn't blown yet, because if it had, I'd have heard it, and even felt it, here, three miles away.
I reached for the phone on the nightstand, and Kate asked me, "Who are you calling?"
"The Ops Center-no, Walsh. He's probably still at the site."
"John-"
Walsh's cell phone went into voice mail-he didn't recognize the number, or it came up "Bellevue" and he knew only two people there, and he probably didn't want to speak to one of them.
I was about to dial the Ops Center, but I got into crazy mode and pulled the tubes and wires out of me. Kate went a little nuts and started yelling, then tried to push the nurse's call button, but I pulled it out of her hand, slid out of bed, and said to her, "Let's go."
"What-?"
I took her arm, and as I moved her toward the door, I said, "You're getting me out of here."
She pulled her arm back and said, "No. John-"
"Trust me. I'll explain. Come on."
She looked at me, then said in a calming voice, "Stay here, John, and I'll get you some clothes."
I looked at my watch, but it was gone. I asked her, "What time is it?"
She glanced at her watch and said, "It's 8:05. You stay here-"
"Kate, at 8:46 A.M., the time when the first plane hit the North Tower, a very large bomb will detonate at the World Trade Center site."
She stared at me, and she looked frightened-not about the bomb, but about me.
So to get this moving, I lied, "Khalil told me this when he thought he was going to kill me."
"Oh my God…"
"Let's go. You got your cell phone?"
She grabbed her purse, and we hurried out the door.
The other side of the ward was for the criminally insane, and I didn't want to wind up there, so I tried to look nonchalant as we passed quickly through the ward filled with guards from the Department of Corrections.
We got to the security checkpoint and almost got through, but a big DOC guy stopped us. It must have been my hospital pajamas and slipper socks that caught his attention.
Kate went into full FBI mode, flashed her creds, and made it clear to the guy that this was none of his business.
He backed off, and we were out in the corridor.
We got on an elevator and she asked me, "Where are we going?"
"Ground Zero. Let me have your phone." I dialed Walsh. I knew he always took Kate's call, but he got me instead, which confused and disappointed him.
He said, "John… good to hear from you. I was going to-"
"Tom, listen to me-"
"We are so sorry about Vince-"
I lost the call in the elevator, and I said to Kate, "When we get outside, commandeer an ambulance."
She nodded.
The elevator reached the lobby, and Kate moved quickly toward the First Avenue exit as I redialed Walsh and followed her.
Tom answered again and said, "Kate told me you were resting comfortably and I just want to say-"
"Tom, shut up and listen to me." That shut him up, and I said, slowly and clearly with calm urgency in my voice, "Asad Khalil, when he thought he was going to kill me, told me that there was a bomb planted at the WTC site-"
"What?"
I could hear engine noises in the background, and I asked him, "Are you still there?"
"Yes."
"I think the bomb is in the big semi there-Carlino Masonry Supplies. Do you see it?"
"I'm… standing next to…"
"You might want to move. But before you do that, call the Bomb Squad ASAP. Then get everyone the hell out of there-that is a very big truck."
Silence.
I walked out of the lobby, and the guard at the door said to me, "Hey! Where you goin'?"
Walsh asked, "John… are you sure about this?"
Very good question. And the answer was no, but I said, "Yes."
The guard was speaking to me, but I waved him off. Where the hell was Kate?
Walsh was saying, "The trailer is locked."
By now, Tom Walsh was probably thirty blocks away, so I wondered how he knew that. I said, "Yes, it would be locked, Tom." I hesitated, then said, "I think-think it's set to-"
The guard had another guard with him now, and they wanted me to go inside with them. I said to them, "I'm waiting for an ambulance." I said to Walsh, "It's set to go off at 8:46 A.M."
He didn't ask why I thought that, because that time is burned into everyone's mind.
There was another silence on the phone, and I thought I'd lost him, but then he said, "That's thirty-one minutes… I don't think we can evacuate this area-"
"Try. Meanwhile, evacuate the site and get the area cordoned off. Call the Bomb Squad."
I hung up, and the guards had me by both arms, so I told them, "I'm STP positive."
They backed off, and one of them made a call on his radio.
An ambulance pulled into the pickup lane with Kate in the passenger seat, and I opened her door and said to her, "Get out."
"No. I'm going with you."
One of the guards told the ambulance driver, "This guy is STP positive."
Kate said, "John, get in the ambulance. Now! Or I'm going without you."
She meant it, so I moved as quickly as I could toward the rear doors and climbed into the ambulance and knelt between the two front seats.
Kate said to the driver, "Ground Zero. Liberty Street. Lights and sirens."
The driver, a young black woman, hit the bells and whistles and off we went. She asked Kate, "What are we responding to without EMT personnel, and why are we taking a patient to Ground Zero?"
Kate explained, "It's really complicated, Jeena." She added, "And really urgent."
Jeena knew how to weave and bob and blow the lights, and I estimated we'd be at Ground Zero in about five or six minutes.
I asked, "What time is it?"
Kate looked at her watch and said, "Eight twenty-one."
Twenty-five minutes. I said to Kate, "The second plane hit at nine oh-three, and there are more people around at that time. So maybe-"
She said, "Let's go with eight forty-six."
"Right."
Jeena asked, "What are we talking about, folks?"
I answered by saying, "As soon as you drop us on Liberty Street, you turn around and get out of the area."
She thought about that and said, "Sounds like you might need an ambulance down there."
"Yeah, but…" I tried to think about how big this bomb could be, and like everyone in this business, I compared it to the Oklahoma City bombing. That was a small truck with about five thousand pounds of explosives that did massive damage. This trailer, if it was full of the same stuff, would take out fifteen or twenty city blocks-basically all of Lower Manhattan, from the Hudson to the East River, including the Financial District right down to Battery Park. And how many people lived and worked there? Maybe a quarter of a million, and there was no way to evacuate them in time… Holy shit.
I said to Jeena, "Pull over. I have to drive."
She informed me, "Nobody drives my ambulance."
Kate turned back to me and said, "John, maybe we don't need to be there."
No, we didn't need to be there, but I didn't respond to that logical statement. I looked out the windshield, and I could see we were already on Broadway. Twenty-six Fed and 290 Broadway were right ahead. In fact, we were already well within the blast zone.
I looked at the time on Kate's cell phone: 8:25.
I called Walsh and asked him, "What's happening?"
He replied, "We got all the construction guys out of here, and all the crime scene people, and we've cleared the observation deck and cleared the streets." He added, "There's no way to evacuate this area so we're trying to get people underground."
"Where's the Bomb Squad?"
"I see the trucks coming down the ramp."
"You still there?"
"Where else am I supposed to be?"
"Tom… if that thing goes off, it's going to vaporize-"
"John, I have my hands full at the moment-"
"Did you get the lock cut off?"
"Yes, but the Bomb Squad advised me not to open the doors. Okay, I-"
"We'll be right there," I said.
"What? Where are you?"
"Just speeding past your corner office in an ambulance."
"With Kate?"
He likes Kate. He wants me vaporized. "Two minutes-"
"Get the hell out of here. That's an order. Okay, here's the Squad."
The phone went dead, and Kate said, "Eight twenty-six." She asked me, "Where's Tom?"
"Still there."
She nodded.
Jeena had put it all together and informed us, "You got about twenty minutes."
"Thanks."
Kate said to her, "Pull over, get out, and get into a subway station."
Jeena didn't reply and kept going. Up ahead at Murray Street, Broadway was blocked off with police cars. They saw the ambulance coming, and one of the cruisers moved aside and we shot through.
The streets around the site were nearly deserted, except for police cruisers with their roof lights flashing, and warnings blasting out of their bullhorns saying, "Get off the streets! Go down into the subways and leave the area!"
Another cruiser's bullhorn was blaring, "Get away from the windows! Go into your building basement!"
Well, I wasn't an expert on bombs, but I did know that a massive explosion would suck the breathable air out of underground spaces. Not to mention ruptured gas and water lines, falling debris, and collapsing buildings-again.
I hoped to God this day didn't make three thousand dead look small by comparison.
Jeena snapped a hard right on Barclay, a left on West, and within two minutes we were at the open gates to the ramp and Jeena stopped.
It almost didn't matter what time it was anymore; we were so close to the center of the blast that we couldn't get clear unless we turned around now-and we weren't turning around.
Kate threw open her door and said to Jeena, "Get as far as you can as fast as you can."
I was about to open the rear doors, but the ambulance began moving again and we were on the ramp, heading down into the pit. Jeena said, "Too far to walk."
I moved between the front seats again and said to Jeena, "That big tractor-trailer over there." I added, "Thanks."
As we moved quickly down the ramp, I could see one Bomb Squad truck and two guys in blast suits-which weren't going to help them at all-and Tom Walsh. And that was it. Except for three idiots on the way.
I could also see the yellow crime scene tape that encompassed about an acre around the tractor-trailer, and within the tape was the crane where Vince Paresi had been hanging…
The Bomb Squad guys were standing with Walsh at the rear of the trailer, but I could see that the doors were still closed. Come on, guys. I said 8:46 A.M.-not P.M.
I had hoped the bomb would be defused by now-and maybe it was. Or better yet, maybe they'd already opened the doors and found masonry supplies inside, and I had some explaining to do.
Kate also noticed that the doors were closed and asked, "Why are they just standing there?"
Coffee break? I said hopefully, "Maybe they're finished."
We were off the ramp now, and the ambulance was fishtailing in the soft earth, but within a minute we were inside the yellow tape and pulling up to the big semi.
Kate and I jumped out, and Kate yelled to Jeena, "Get out of here! Go!"
Jeena made a quick U-turn and gunned the big vehicle back toward the ramp.
Tom was speaking to the Bomb Squad guys, and I could tell they were a little tense-so this was not over.
I looked at the time on Kate's cell phone-8:31-then it changed to 8:32.
I said to Kate, "They don't look happy."
She nodded.
I watched Tom and the two guys speaking quietly, as though a loud noise would set off the bomb.
Bomb Squad people are, by definition, nuts. They volunteer for this. And I knew from past experience that they have a weird sense of humor about getting blown up. But they're highly trained and cool, and these two guys didn't look panicky yet, though Tom was a bit pale. But… well, I give him my brass balls award for this.
Finally, Tom turned his attention to us, checked out my pjs, gave me an annoyed look, then said to Kate, "Get in that Bomb Squad truck and get out of here. Now!"
Kate replied, "I'm not leaving unless we all leave."
There wasn't much time left to argue so Tom said, "Okay… here's what's happening-we sent the other Bomb Squad team away with the dog, who gave a positive reaction. Also, Dutch"-he indicated the older guy-"and Bobby say they can smell ammonium nitrate, diesel fuel, and whatever. So we have a bomb."
Right. I could smell it, too, and I noticed now that the doors were open just a crack, and Bobby was looking inside with a flashlight.
I suggested, "Maybe they should think about defusing it now."
It was Dutch who replied, "Sometimes these things are rigged with a booby-trap detonator." He added, "If we had time, we'd use the robot, but the robot is slow and you're telling me it could be set for eight forty-six-so Bobby is the robot."
In fact, Bobby was now standing on the rear bumper rail with his flashlight, and he called out, "I still don't see any indication of a booby-trap detonator." He added, "But you never know until you try." He turned and said to Dutch and to Tom, "Your call." He asked, "Open it?"
Tom and Dutch looked at each other, then Dutch looked at his watch and said, "If it is set for eight forty-six, we have about ten minutes to defuse it, or ten minutes to get in our truck and get ourselves into a bank vault or something."
Tom Walsh looked at the towering buildings around us, which we all knew were still filled with people, despite the warnings to clear the area.
Dutch informed us, "We're talking about a mile, mile-and-a-half blast radius… depending on what they have in that fifty-three-footer."
Tom nodded, but didn't respond.
Dutch also let us know, "If it's a simple detonator-without any tricks-I can defuse it in a few seconds, by cutting some wires or interrupting the power source."
I asked, of course, "And if it's not so simple?"
He replied, "If it looks like it's rigged with a current interruption switch, or maybe a second power source or some other sneaky detonating device… then…" He shrugged and said, "If I had more time, I could dope it out… but we don't have a lot of time, so I just start cutting wires and see what happens."
He went to school for this?
Dutch also let us know, "And maybe it's command detonated. Like, someone is going to make a cell phone call and that trips the switch."
No one had anything to say about that, and Dutch reminded us, "Meanwhile, we got to decide if we're going to open that door-that's step one. I can't defuse it from here."
Bobby, who I thought had shown a lot of patience, said, "I think our time is almost up to get out of here."
Kate said to Tom, "Open the doors."
Tom glanced at his watch.
To help Tom with his decision-before it was too late to run and too late to defuse the bomb-I said, "I'm guessing that Khalil stashed the PA cops' bodies in there, so the doors have already been opened." Recalling that Boris told me he'd never trained Khalil to work with bombs, I concluded, "I don't think Khalil would risk disarming or rearming a booby trap."
Tom looked at me, then at Dutch, and said, "Open the doors."
Dutch said to his partner, "Bobby-do it."
Bobby grabbed the handle on the left door, and Dutch put his hands over his ears. What the fuck is wrong with these people? This is not funny.
The big door swung open, and, just as I predicted, nothing happened. Or I was in heaven now. But Walsh was here.
Dutch was already in motion, and he jumped up into the trailer where a stack of cement bags formed a wall almost to the roof. Bobby gave him a boost, and Dutch scrambled up the bags, lay on the top row, and shone his flashlight into the trailer. For a second, I thought he was going to say, "Just cement," but he said, "Mother of God…"
Oh, shit.
Bobby called up to him, "What do we have, Dutch?"
Dutch replied, "Well, for starters, five bodies. Two PA cops-male and female-and three males in civilian clothing."
Bobby made the sign of the cross, which these guys probably did a lot.
Dutch said, "Also, about eighty… ninety fifty-five-gallon drums… with wires running to them."
Bobby asked Dutch, "Do you think it's a bomb?"
I looked at Tom, who was looking at me. And he thought I was nuts? These guys just lowered the nut bar to ground level.
Kate took my hand, then surprised me by taking Tom's hand, too. Well, we could sort this out in heaven.
Meanwhile, Dutch had some bad news. "I don't see the power source or the timer or the switch."
They're definitely in there, Dutch. Look hard.
Dutch gave Bobby a hand, and Bobby scrambled up to the top of the cement bags and shone his light into the trailer. He said, "It's gotta be over there. See where the wires are running?"
"Yeah… but… it's tight in there…"
Tom called out helpfully, "Four minutes."
Dutch said to Bobby, "Okay, let's walk on barrels."
They both dropped behind the wall of cement bags and disappeared.
I didn't want to rip my stitches, but in about four minutes that would be the least of my problems, so I hopped up onto the bumper, followed by Kate and Tom. We boosted and pulled one another to the top of the cement bags and poked our heads into the dark trailer.
Tom had a flashlight, and below us was a two-foot space between the wall of bags and the first row of drums, and in that space were five bodies piled on the floor. In fact, I could smell them over the chemical smells. The three civilians looked young and burly, and I could see blood on their faces as though they'd each been shot in the head. I assumed, too, that these guys had something to do with the truck and with Khalil.
Tom was shining his light around, and I looked into the trailer and saw the tightly packed rows of fifty-five-gallon drums, each one covered with a lid. I could now see the wires running into the centers of the lids.
Neither Kate nor Tom said anything for a few seconds, then Kate said, "That bastard."
Dutch and Bobby were walking carefully on the rims of the drums making their way toward the front of the trailer, shining their flashlights between the drums as they walked.
Tom asked them, "Is there anything we can do?"
Neither man replied, and I had the sense that even these two were getting a little tense. I didn't want to look at the clock on Kate's cell phone, but I was estimating about two minutes until eternity.
Dutch said, "Here it is."
Good news.
"Hard to reach."
Bad news.
Dutch flattened himself on top of the drums in the far right corner, and Bobby squatted beside him and kept his light trained into the dark space.
Dutch said, "I see the twelve-volt… but I don't see the timer or the switch."
Bobby agreed and added, "They could be anyplace."
I strongly suggested, "Take the fucking cable off the battery."
"Yeah," Dutch replied, "that's what I'm trying to do… thanks for the tip… tight in here… this vise grip was made by the lowest bidder… hope there's not a second battery somewhere…"
So Kate, Tom, and I lay there on top of the wall of concrete bags, peering into the dark, waiting for some positive statement from Dutch.
Also, I was trying to remember why I thought I needed to be here. On that subject, I said to Kate, "Sorry."
She replied, "It's okay, John."
Right. I already saved her life once-so I was allowed one fatal mistake.
Tom was staring at his cell phone and said, very calmly, I thought, "It is now eight forty-five."
No one had anything to say about that.
It got very quiet in the trailer, and I could actually hear the metallic sound of Dutch's vise grip trying to loosen the nut on the positive cable lead.
Dutch said, "Got it."
Bobby said, "That's the wrong one."
They both laughed.
I shut my eyes, and I could hear the bells of nearby St. Paul's Chapel, which chimed every morning at 8:46.