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He’s gone. Can they defuse the bomb?

Mordichai’s still on it. That’s five. We’re looking for one more.

Malichai turned to Avery. “Come on, brother, we need the last one. We’ve got to find that last man.” Even as he put it on the tech, he was scanning the screens. There were just so many people. Hundreds. Thousands. Where had they all come from? They’d worked fast, but Callendine would be listening to the scanners, listening for the alerts that would go out for the police to go to the bed-and-breakfast. That had been arranged, although Rubin wasn’t at the B and B, he was already in the building searching for the last bomb.

Callendine would be satisfied with the call to the police, but when the fire department and then ambulances weren’t called, he would instantly know something wasn’t right. He went by the book, by the numbers, and when a mission didn’t go right, he hit his fail-safe. They were ensuring the bombs couldn’t be detonated by remote, so what was his fail-safe? He might consider that the remotes would be jammed.

“There,” Avery said, his voice that same calm. “The last one, Nathan Treadway. He’s just now walking out the middle exit back way, he’s stopped to talk with a family walking in.”

Malichai spotted the man, crouched down beside a double stroller. The parents looked young and they had four children. The older ones were obviously twins, and they looked to be about four or five and the ones in the stroller couldn’t have been yet two. Treadway knew he left a bomb inside that building and yet he stopped so casually to talk with children he planned to kill.

Amaryllis, do you see Nathan Treadway? He’s right at the middle exit in the back. Crouched down with a family of four children, double stroller. Young parents. He’s laughing and talking with the parents, rubbing the curls on the babies in the stroller. He tried to keep his voice impersonal, but even with that, his emotions were there for his entire team to feel.

I’ve got him. There was complete confidence in Amaryllis’s voice.

Malichai saw her now. She moved into position just outside the door, a few feet up the sidewalk, stopping to fiddle with her shoestrings. Treadway got to his feet and with a small, friendly wave at the parents, strode out the door, apparently whistling.

Found the bomb. I’m on it, Rubin said.

I’ll be there in two, Ezekiel said. This one is disarmed.

It was a beautiful day. Treadway wished he could be there when the building came down. It was huge and the bombs were set to take out the main supports. It would collapse on itself and those inside would be trapped as the ceiling came down. It would be a thing of beauty to watch. He hoped there were outside cameras that would capture the actual fall of the convention center and the slow deaths of those inside. Debris falling. Dirt. Heavy fixtures. Beams. Cement. Brick. The ceiling. It was going to be glorious.

He made his way around a woman tying her shoe without looking at her, although he wanted to swat her ass just because women protested every little thing now, as if men shouldn’t even look. He wasn’t going to go on a rant about that or be distracted from having the best day. The sun was shining, and the building was coming down on all those idiot people who couldn’t think for themselves. They were followers. Every single one of them. They were teaching their children to be followers. They didn’t take responsibility for themselves. They lived off the government. They didn’t appreciate those who took care of them; in fact, they constantly tore them down. He’d had enough and was fighting back. He knew how to fight. Did they?

Whistling, he walked briskly toward the garage where his rental was parked. He really detested that Callendine had given the order for them to leave, and he even considered pretending there was a problem with his car so he could see the building go up. It didn’t seem very fair to plan it all out and then not get to see the actual results. He hoped there was plenty of footage of the bed-and-breakfast burning to the ground as well. If they were lucky, they’d score plenty of victims there too.

As he entered the parking garage, he paused to look around. There was a group of people gathered around someone on the ground. He avoided them and went straight to the stairway leading to the next story where his SUV was parked. It had tinted windows because he didn’t give a fuck if he wasn’t supposed to have them. He should be able to have them. He sauntered toward the vehicle when he heard a soft sigh behind him.


Tags: Christine Feehan GhostWalkers Paranormal