No Fortunate Son (Pike Logan, #7)(84)

He said, “Hey, I’m in a little bit of a situation here. I can’t talk, but Knuckles and Brett are fine.”

He heard nothing for a second, then Pike said, “Seriously? They’re okay?”

Creed hit the play button, and Kurt watched Palmer’s face, waiting to see it flinch. He said, “Yes, now I have to go.”

Pike said, “Sir, I need the support package right now. I’ve got two dead terrorists and two hostages, alive. I need help to get out of the building clean.”

“Pike, I can’t talk right now. I’m watching these f*cks kill a hostage on video.” Then the words sank in. “You’ve got what?”

“I have the Clute twins, damn it. I need support.”

Palmer turned from the screen and said, “It’s the original video. The proof of life.”

Chairman Clute sagged in his seat, and Creed brought the chat back to the large monitor. Words appeared on the screen: The next Snapchat is decided by you. Which one dies? I don’t hear anything in one minute, and I’ll choose.

Kurt said, “I’m watching a live chat with the terrorists. They’re saying they’re going to kill one of the twins in the next few seconds. Tell me you’re not delusional.”

“Jesus, sir.” The phone fumbled, and he heard, “This is Kaelyn Clute. I’m alive. Who is this?”

Kurt about fell out of his chair. He stood up and shouted, “I need this on speaker, right now.”

Palmer glared at him, then looked to the president. “I don’t know what to say to get them to stop. We can’t pick one.”

Kurt raised his voice. “Pike’s on the line. He’s got the Clute twins.”

The room went quiet. Chairman Clute leaned forward, his face radiating hope, like a father searching for a child in the aftermath of a tornado. Knowing the worst was coming, but not wanting to believe. He said, “Who’s Pike?”

President Warren said, “Put him on.”

The phone was redirected, and President Warren said, “Pike? This is President Warren. You there?”

“Yeah, I’m here, sir. Could I get some f*cking help for a change?”

Kurt cringed at the language, and President Warren said, “We’re about to get a video of one of the Clute twins getting executed.”

Pike said, “Well, unless I’m the one pulling the trigger, that’s going to be pretty damn hard to do.”

Chairman Clute said, “Who are you? What do you have?”

The next words from the speaker were “Daddy? We’re alive. We’re both alive. But I think this man could use some serious help to keep us that way.”

Kurt saw the tears begin to flow from Chairman Clute’s eyes. He looked at the president and said, “We through f*cking around with Pike?”






59




Ali Hassan slipped over the side of the boat and the coldness of the water took his breath away. An involuntary gasp escaped as he kicked his legs to keep his head above the waves, the sound lost to the wind.

The temperature outside was a brisk forty-four degrees, and he realized the River Thames was cold enough to cause rapid hypothermia. Something he should have recognized before, but he was used to the surf off the coast of Somalia. Even in the wintertime it was bearable.

He said, “Ismail, quickly. Pass me the explosives.”

Ismail saw him flailing, mistaking the urgency in his voice for a danger he couldn’t see. He slid across a box four feet square, covered in a tarp. It hit the water with a small splash, then began bobbing in the waves. He said, “What is it? What do you see?”

His teeth beginning to chatter, Ali Hassan said, “Nothing from man, but if we don’t get to shore soon, we’ll die out here. The water is freezing.”

Ismail laughed, the sound abruptly cut short as he slid into the darkness of the Thames himself. He sputtered, the liquid so cold he couldn’t form a sentence. The man in the boat said, “You want me to get closer? So you don’t have as far to swim?”

Ali looked toward his target and said, “No. Someone will see. We’re too close to the palaces and other government buildings. Too close to people watching. You keep going as planned. Away from here.”

The man turned the throttle of the outboard engine and the small boat puttered away, soon lost from sight in the darkness.

Ismail said, “If the rope isn’t there, we’re going to die. Or be forced to turn ourselves in to prevent it.”

Ali unrolled a length of twine from the box and tied it to his belt. He started to swim to the southern shore, dragging the box behind him. He said, “The sooner we get there, the sooner we’ll know.”

Roughly a hundred meters away, the edge of the river twinkled with lights, their target rising up and dominating the landscape, illuminated like a gigantic Christmas tree. The London Eye.

Originally called the Millennial Wheel, it was once the largest Ferris wheel in the world and still ranked in the top four, standing over four hundred feet in the air. Created to celebrate the turn of the century, thirty-two capsules dotted its circumference, each capable of holding twenty-five people. At full capacity, there would be eight hundred people in the capsules, slowly turning. Eight hundred bodies Ali intended to send crashing into the dark water of the River Thames.