Falling(36)

“Agent Baldwin?”

One of the reporters stood off to the side. The others were heading back to the vans. Theo walked over casually, trying not to attract attention. He recognized her from CNB broadcasts. Vanessa Perez. She’d always struck him as a professional who told the news with integrity, not someone who just wanted her face on TV.

“Gas leak?” she said.

Theo didn’t say a thing and neither did his expression.

“Gas leak,” she repeated, nodding. “Absolutely. But.”

She extended her hand, a business card tucked between the index and middle finger. “Just in case that changes.”

Remaining unreadable, Theo pocketed the card without a word and walked away.



* * *



“Liu wants you,” Agent Rousseau said as Theo approached.

“Maybe I’ll get fired twice today,” he said, looking around for his boss. Seeing her alone and on a phone call down the street, he headed that way, checking his phone as he went. Thank god the fire captain had told them the house was empty before Liu called Washington to evacuate and Theo could send a text to Aunt Jo telling her the family was dead. Misinformation like that could have been disastrous. His phone showed nothing new from his aunt and he opened the message thread to make sure all of his texts said “Delivered.” He had no choice but to wait. She was probably busy preparing for the gas attack, he realized with a chill.

The situation he was living through was surreal enough. But at that exact moment, his aunt was facing a trauma of another magnitude. Jo had been flying forever, and from the stories she’d told over the years, he knew all the crazy stuff she’d seen. But this? Never had her stories come anywhere close to this.

When Theo was six, his mother put him and his two little sisters in the car one night and drove away from their father and the only home he’d ever known. He didn’t understand what was going on, but something told him they would never be coming back. He still hadn’t gone back to Texas, to this day. That night his mom drove all the way to California, where her only sister lived—Aunt Jo. She was pregnant with Wade at the time; Devon would be born two years later. By then, Theo and his family were settled into the house four doors down from Aunt Jo’s, his new world consisting of two back doors that were never locked, constantly opening and closing. He was the eldest of the five cousins and since he didn’t have a father figure, he took it upon himself to fill the role. Even Uncle Mike, Aunt Jo’s husband, seemed to regard him as a peer, not a child.

Every night, the kitchen in one house or the other would fill with the sounds of family; a hot sizzle coming from the stove, a soda being cracked open after a mom said it was okay, a tale being told of what had happened that day at school or at work. The best stories were always Jo’s. She was a natural raconteur, always knew how to paint a scene just so. Her tales would begin like they were no big deal and not two minutes later, forks full of spaghetti would hover over plates, forgotten.

Theo couldn’t wait to hear how he and Jo would recount this day to their family. This one would be replayed for the rest of their lives. They would get it to the point where it would become a bit, both of them sharing their viewpoint as the saga unspooled. Legendary.

He nodded to himself, confirming that happy future.

“Theo!”

An agent raced up to him with the news that the LAPD had spotted the Hoffmans’ SUV at a vacant strip mall not far away.

Theo pumped the fist of his good arm. “I’ll grab Liu.”

She had her back to Theo, unaware of his presence. He wasn’t going to wait for her to finish the call to tell her the good news. This was too important—she’d want to be interrupted. Coming closer, Theo could overhear her conversation.

“Yes, sir,” she said, pausing. “I understand and agree. But this is Washington, DC. This is potentially the White House. We’re talking about the safety of the president of the United States. I think we need to start thinking very seriously along the lines of secondary protocol.”

Theo stopped in his tracks.

In a situation like this, there was only one contingency plan, one line of secondary protocol.

If the FBI didn’t save the family, they were going to shoot down the plane.





CHAPTER FIFTEEN


BEN’S FEET KICKED UP BROWN dust that clung to the thick, midsummer air. He wiped the sweat off his brow with the sleeve of his shirt, squinting against the setting sun as he ran as fast as he could. His chores had taken longer than he expected—he didn’t even have time to eat dinner—and his stomach rumbled as he hurried, but he didn’t care. He was late. He just hoped he wasn’t too late.

Nearly every storefront he passed was closed early for the day, the homes above them dark as well. No cars were out, so he ran in the middle of the road. No people were out either. Almost everyone in their northeastern Syrian village was already at the cafe. Ben picked up his pace.

Rounding the corner, he saw the cafe’s lights spilling out into the twilight along with the patrons who couldn’t find a chair inside. The shop was packed wall to wall and excited chatter rang through the crowd. The scene was thick with anticipation, as it always was on the rare occasions when something different happened in a place this small.

Ben pushed his way into the cafe, plunging through the crowd, a smack on the back of the head from Auntie Sarya not even slowing him. A single oscillating fan stood off to the side, slowly sweeping over the packed room and back again—and at the front of the room, Sam blocked the view of the TV with his outstretched arms, his fingers spread wide. Arguing with all the might a nine-year-old boy could muster, he pleaded with the village barber to wait until Ben got there before they started the movie. Someone threw a cashew, hitting Sam in the face. Everyone laughed, including Sam, who picked it up, ready to lob it back into the crowd when he spotted Ben. Jumping up with a hoot, he declared that they could now start. More nuts sailed his way in return.