Loyalty in Death (In Death #9)(96)

Eve bucked back, swung up her legs, and slammed her feet into his groin. He didn’t buckle as a man would, but teetered back, arms pinwheeling for balance. She rocked to her feet, made one frantic grab, missed.

He tumbled to the tracks, then disappeared under the silver blur of the train.

“Jesus, Dallas, I couldn’t get through.” Panting, red welts swelling on his face, McNab gripped her arm. “Did you take a hit?”

“No. Damn it, I needed one of them working. They’re useless to us now. Call for a cleanup and crowd control here. Where’s the target?”

“Madison Square, they’re evacuating and defusing right now.”

“Let’s get the hell out of Queens.”

CHAPTER NINETEEN

The first charge went off in the upper deck of section B in Madison Square at precisely eight forty-three. The game, a hockey match between the Rangers and the Penguins, was in the bitterly contested first period. There’d been no score and only one minor injury when the offensive guard from the Penguins had cross-checked his man — a little on the high side.

The Ranger defensive lineman had been carried off, bleeding profusely from the nose and mouth.

He was already in the ER when the bomb blew.

The NYPSD had moved fast once the explosives had been detected. The game was halted, and the announcement was made that the arena was to be evacuated.

This was met with catcalls, profanities, and from the Ranger side of the stadium, a rain of recycled toilet paper and beer cans.

New York fans took their hockey seriously.

Despite it, the swarm of uniforms and officials had managed to move close to twenty percent of the attendees out of the Garden in more or less an orderly fashion. Only five cops and twelve civilians had reported minor injuries. There were only four arrests for assault and lewd conduct.

Below the Garden, Pennsylvania Station was being cleared as rapidly as possible, with all incoming trains and transpos diverted.

Even the most optimistic of officials didn’t expect to scoop up every beggar and sidewalk sleeper who hid in the station for warmth, but an effort was made to sweep through the usual flop spots and hiding places.

When the bomb blew, spewing steel and wood and pieces of the drunk who’d been dozing on the floor of the bleachers along seats 528 through 530, people got the picture fast.

They flooded like a raging tide for the exits.

When Eve arrived on scene, it looked as though the grand old building was vomiting people.

“Do what you can,” she shouted at McNab. “Get these people away from here.”

“What are you doing?” He shouted over the screams and sirens, made a grab for her, but his fingers skidded off her jacket. “You can’t go in there. Holy God, Dallas.”

But she was already pushing, punching, and peeling her way through the press of fleeing bodies.

Twice she was slammed hard enough to make her ears ring as she fought to get clear of the doors and the frantic rush for escape.

She swung up toward the closest set of stairs, climbing over seats as people leaped for safety. Above, she could see one of the emergency team efficiently putting out several small fires. The nosebleed seats were in smoking splinters.

“Malloy!” she shouted into her communicator. “Anne Malloy. Give me your location.”

Static hissed in her ear, words hiccupping through it. “Three — cleared… scanned ten…”

“Your location,” Eve repeated. “Give me your location.”

“Teams spread…”

“Goddamn it, Anne, give me a location. I’m helpless here.” Helpless, she thought, watching people claw their way over each other to get out. She saw a child shoot out of the crowd like soap from wet fingers, feet tripping over him as he slid out and bounced facefirst on the ice.

She swore again, viciously, and leaped over the rail. She hit the ice on her hands and knees, skidding wildly until she slammed in with the toes of her boots. She grabbed the boy by the collar of his shirt and dragged them both away from the stampeding crowd.

“Up to five.” Anne’s voice came through, clearer now. “We’re clicking here. Update on evacuation.”

“I can’t tell. Shit, it’s a zoo.” Eve pushed a hand over her face, saw blood smeared on her palm. “Fifty percent clear, up here. Maybe more. I’ve got no contact with the team in Penn. Where the hell are you?”

“Moving toward sector two. I’m under the floor in Penn. Get those civilians out.”

“I’ve got a kid here. Injured.” She spared the boy under her arm a glance. He was sheet white with a lump the size of a baby’s fist on his forehead, but he was breathing. “I’ll get him clear and be back.”

“Get him out, Dallas. Clock’s ticking.”

She managed to get to her feet, skidded, grabbed clumsily for the rail. “Move your men out, Malloy. Abort and move out now.”

“Cleared six, four to go. Have to stick. Dallas, we lose it down here, we take out Penn and the Garden.”

Eve dumped the boy over her shoulder in a fireman’s carry and pulled herself onto the steps. “Get them out, Anne. Save lives, f**k property.”

She stumbled through the seats, kicking aside the bags and coats and food people had left behind.

“Seven, down to three. We’re going to make it.”