“Yes, sir. I’d be glad to go talk with him. Thank you, sir.”
“Listen, Ross, we all have times when this job gets to us. I understand that. But just so you know, if you ever again do what you just did to me, I will personally snap that finger off your hand, dip it in ink, and use it to sign your exit papers. You understand?”
“Understood, sir. It won’t happen again.”
Scott turned and walked down the hall, trying to get the image of Porter’s threat out of his mind. He quickly ducked into the break room and grabbed a few of the Yoo-hoo bottles he had stashed away upon arrival, then stepped into a viewing room.
Inside the room, a female CTD agent whose name Scott couldn’t remember was talking to an FBI agent. Scott interrupted their conversation. “Hey, I’m Scott Ross. DC Porter sent me down to talk with the kid. What can you tell me about him?”
The CTD agent gave Scott a visual once-over and answered in a bored voice, “His name is Todd Penner. Twenty years old. No record. Scared to death. He’s a little banged up from the ordeal.”
As she spoke, Scott checked Todd out through the two-way mirror. He was fidgeting, and his eyes kept darting around the room.
“Kid’s got nice guy written all over his worried face,” Scott said. “Either of you take the time to tell him he’s not in trouble?”
“We were told not to say anything to him until someone came to talk to him.”
“Brilliant,” Scott said sarcastically. “Did you at least offer him some coffee?”
“How could we do that, sir,” the CTD countered in the same tone, “without talking to him?”
“Great point, agent. Way to think out of the box. The kid’s a hero, and you let him sit there thinking he’s going to prison. That’s using the old noggin.” Scott walked out of the room shaking his head.
He paused for a moment outside the door to the interrogation room in order to change his demeanor. Then he burst through the door and addressed Todd like he had just stumbled across a long-lost friend. “Todd! How you doing, buddy? Name’s Scott Ross.” Scott shook Todd’s hand, then reached into one of the leg pockets of his cargo pants, pulled out a Yoo-hoo, and dropped it on the table in front of the surprised kid. He then grabbed a second bottle out of the other side pocket, cracked it open, plopped down in the opposite chair, kicked his feet up on the table, and tilted his chair back.
“So, Todd, how does it feel to be a hero?”
“Really, Mr. Ross, I didn’t know what I was doing. I didn’t mean to hurt… How does it feel to be a what?”
“A hero-and it’s Scott.”
“I thought I was in trouble, sitting in this room for so long.”
Scott glared at the two-way mirror as Todd’s eyes welled up with relief.
Todd twisted the cap off his Yoo-hoo and chugged about half of it down before coming up for air. “I figured I was being charged with assault with a deadly weapon or something.”
Scott laughed. “Yeah, I’ve tasted stadium hot chocolate-I can see your point. What made you think of chucking that thing at the dude’s head?”
“I have no clue. It was either instinct or God. Hey, Mr. Ross-Scott-is there any way I could let my parents know that I’m okay?”
“You mean they haven’t allowed you to phone home?” Scott quickly slid his cell phone across the table. “Your parents have to be worried sick. Take all the time you need.”
Todd grabbed the phone and punched in a number. It barely had time to ring before it was picked up on the other end. “Dad?… Yeah, I know. I’m so sorry… No, I’m fine; I’m fine… No, really… Yeah, it was, Dad-absolutely terrible, unbelievable… I’m in a questioning room at some government building… No, I don’t know how long I’ll be here.”
Scott again glared at the unseen faces beyond the glass.
“Dad, will you let Jamie know I’m all right?… She was? How long ago did she leave?… Well, if you could call her, I’d appreciate it. By the way, Dad, they’re calling me a hero… This government guy. He comes in and says, ‘How does it feel to be a hero?’… Well, I probably can’t get into it right now; I should probably go. But I’ll tell you all about it later… Yeah, I can hear them in the background.”
Todd laughed at something-probably the cheering of his family that Scott could hear all the way across the room.
“Tell them I said to go to bed-it’s a school night… Thanks, Dad; I love you, too. Tell the same to Mom and to Jamie… Bye.”
Scott remained staring at the glass another minute while he heard Todd blow his nose and expel a couple of deep breaths, trying to regain composure. Finally Todd said, “Thanks, Mr. Ross.”
“Hey, buddy, no problem. I’m sorry it took so long. The fam had to be scared to death.”
“Oh, man! They were terrified.”
“So, who’s Jamie?”
“Jamie? She’s the girl I’m going to ask to marry me in a few days.”
“Really? Congratulations! That’s awesome.”
“Thanks. She’s pretty incredible.”
“So, Todd, is it all right if we get back to you giving the bad guy a cocoa beaning upside the head? You feeling up to talking?”
“Sure, sure, Mr. Ross-Scott. Like I said, I don’t know what made me throw the tray. I heard the first explosion, and everyone around me was completely quiet. Like we were all trying to figure out what happened.”
“What made you notice the bomber?”
“I don’t know. I think it was because he was the only person who was looking the wrong way-you know, up at the crowd instead of down toward the field. Then the guy holds up a football in one hand and something else in the other. What freaked me out was that there was a wire connecting the thing in the one hand to the football.”
“A wire to the football? Interesting… Did he say anything?”
“Yeah, he did. I’ve been sitting here trying to piece together what he said. It was something like, ‘America’… uh… ‘America, because I’ve come to your’ something-‘stores’ or ‘shores,’ I think. Then he said something like, ‘Prepare to meet the wrath of…’ And that’s when the tray hit him. Scott, are you okay? Mr. Ross?”
But Scott waved him silent. His mind had slipped into the zone. The terrorist’s statement made no sense-‘because I’ve come to your shores.’ He processed the statement, mentally comparing it to other code words and chatter he had picked up. Nothing. Run through the statement again-‘because I’ve come to your shores.’ C’mon, what’s missing? An accent! Try it with an accent-‘because I’ve come to your shores.’ Be-cause. Be cause. The Cause.
“Todd, are you sure of the words? Could he have said something like, ‘The Cause has come to your shores’?”
“Sure, I guess. I was a little wigged out.”
“Dude, you’re awesome! They’ll be throwing parades for you! I gotta go talk with some folks. I’m sure we’ll get you out of here soon.” Scott reached deep into his cargo pockets again and pulled out another Yoo-hoo, sliding it across the table. “Is there anything else I can get you while you’re waiting?”
“Well, I didn’t really want to mention it again. I know so many other people are really hurting. But I’m thinking I should have somebody look at this.” Todd lifted his shirt revealing an entire left side that was black and blue. “I think I busted a few ribs when the crowd was pushing down on us. I should probably make sure nothing inside is messed up.”
“Did you tell anyone else about this?”
“Well, yeah, the lady who brought me in here. She said that I could talk to a medical person after I’d been debriefed.”