Turning to Keyes, I said, “You go. Save yourself, but I need to stay and do this.”
“I’m not leaving without you.”
“I’m not going until I try one last thing.”
Power returned at precisely 3:35 pm.
Edwards’ voice boomed through the BAMUS monitor: “Alpha Charlie! Alpha Charlie! The suicide bomber is only a mile from the hospital! He’ll be there in less than three minutes! Where are you? Please respond!”
I went to the control chair. “Colonel Edwards, you’re too late. Charlie made a getaway. He’s not the good guy you thought. It’s a long story; I’ll tell you about it someday. Right now, we’ve got more important things to do.”
Edwards jaw dropped open. “Get the hell out of there!”
“No. I’m going to take out the suicide bomber myself or die trying.”
“Hold on a damn minute!” Edwards bellowed. “Who the hell are you?”
CHAPTER SIXTY-SEVEN
“I’m Dr. Scott James. I’m a plastic surgeon.”
“What the fuck? I don’t need a fucking boob job! There are two tons of TATP in that car, enough to blow up that whole hospital!”
The power of the bombs only strengthened my resolve.
“I know, and I’m going to stop that son of a bitch,” I said. “I watched Waters operate this, and I can do it. I know the terrain around here like the back of my hand and I bet I can pick off your bomber.”
Edwards muttered, “No way. I can’t have an untrained operator—”
“Let me do it!”
“You sure you can really do this?”
I turned to Keyes. “Leave now, just in case I miss my shot.”
Tears came to her eyes. “No. If you die, I want to die with you. Besides, you may need me.”
“Go!” I yelled. “It’s too risky.”
“Shut up and do this.”
On the monitor, the system was tracking a speeding car. I zoomed in to get a closer look at the car: a gold Cadillac Seville, its rear-end almost dragging on the ground as if something very heavy was in the back seat and trunk. I zoomed in for a close-up of the driver: a middle-aged woman with long, black hair and dressed in a maroon thobe, trimmed in gold, with a green breast plate. Despite a maroon scarf draped around her face and pinned at the neck with an ivory clasp, her face was readily recognizable.
“Anna Duke,” I whispered.
“I’m absolutely certain that’s a suicide bomber,” Edwards said. “I see this all the time in Afghanistan and Iraq. The back of that big Caddy is almost touching the ground. Can you see the sacks of TATP in the back seat? Several thousand pounds of it. And the mason jars with grenades lying on top of the TATP? They’re detonators. The glass breaks with any collision, and the handles of the grenades fly off.”
Edwards turned from the screen for a moment and then came back. “That’s not only a suicide bomber. That’s Nicole Banzar, a terrorist on the international most-wanted list for the bombings in London and Madrid. Her code name is ‘Quasart’”
“Oh my God. Anna is Nicole Banzar?” Keyes said. “Farok sent her to kill me. I know about TATP. Two tons of it will level the entire hospital and a good part of Jackson City. I never wanted that. Scott, you have to kill her.”
One of the monitors showed an aerial map of the hospital campus. The car was approaching from the south.
“You’ve got about one minute before Quasart reaches the hospital.” Edwards shouted.
CHAPTER SIXTY-EIGHT
“What is the drone armed with?” I asked Edwards.
“A fully charged DE Laser gun, with enough power for eight shots.”
I put my total concentration on the job at hand.
Edwards was standing on his chair, getting as close to the monitors as he could. He looked at his watch. “Damn it, Doc, hurry!”
Taking a deep breath, I moved the X over the target.
Pumping both fists, Edwards bellowed, “That’s it! You’re on it! Now fire!”
“No, I’m moving too fast!”
I pushed the cross behind the car and touched the trigger lightly. The first beam struck twenty yards behind the target. “The controls are making allowance for the speed differential.”
“Damn it, James, I told you — that’s a DE Laser! It moves at the speed of light! You have to put the X directly on the car and fire!” Edwards beat on his chair as he yelled. “Aim and fire again! Now!”
CHAPTER SIXTY-NINE
As Nicole Banzar drove the gold Cadillac Seville toward the hospital, she could hear the sirens.
She pressed the gas pedal to the floorboard. She could see the hospital and the Emergency Disaster bus behind it. Her destiny with Allah was before her eyes! She was just seconds from attaining the greatest feat of her life. She heard the voice of her great God, calling her home. Her turn had finally come. Now, she would give her life to Allah. His faithful servant was on her way to Heaven.
Suddenly a blinding light lit up her rearview mirror. She could see the six-inch ball of brilliant white and orange flame hover over her. “Allah is here! He will save me!” she said aloud.
A split second after that she felt the heat, as her body was totally incinerated. The steering wheel turned to jelly as Banzar’s hands vaporized. The vinyl seats melted, the electrical wiring liquefied, and the entire car glowed. The gas in the tank and in all six cylinders boiled for a fraction of a second before exploding all at once and detonating the two tons of TATP.
CHAPTER SEVENTY
Everyone in and around the hospital heard the gigantic explosion.
Keyes screamed, “Oh my God!” She suddenly started jumping up and down. “Oh my God, Scott! You killed her!”
Edwards appeared on the screen. His uniform was wet with sweat. He shook his head. “That was too fucking close for comfort.”
Our reverie in taking out Quasart was brief.
“Don’t start celebrating yet,” Edwards said. “There’s still a rocket coming at you.”
“I can take care of it.”
“It’s a Silkworm missile, targeted at the drone command center. It’s thirty-four miles away and traveling 950 miles per hour. That means it’ll be there in less than one minute. I don’t think you’ll be able to shoot it with the laser. Just run and save yourself!”
“No, it’s too late.”
“Then fucking do it! That Silkworm will be down your throat in thirty seconds.”
Keyes shook her head. “Omar knew we might be able to stop the suicide bomber. That’s why he ordered the Silkworm, too.”
I sighted the X on the Silkworm as the count ticked to twenty seconds. “You have six shots left in that DE!” Edwards bellowed. “Shoot, damn it! Shoot!”
For some reason, I felt calm, as if I had complete control of the situation. I fired a shot.
“Fuck! A hundred yards short!” Edwards screamed.
I let go a volley of three shots as I moved the DE gun forward along the path of the missile.
“Short again!” Edwards yelled. “Two shots, seven seconds left!”