Beyond Limits (Tracers #8)(87)

“A bomb just exploded outside Terminal D. The task force, the bomb squad, everyone’s on their way over there.”

She looked at Derek. “A bomb went off outside the airport.”

“When? What kind?”

“Tell me about the explosive,” Elizabeth said.

“I don’t have a lot of details yet,” Torres told her. “They’re saying it was in a trash can outside the international terminal.”

“Casualties?”

“A cabbie was injured. That’s all I know.”

She looked at Derek. “Looks like a trash-can bomb. A cabdriver was injured.”

“A trash can? Sounds like a mindfuck. Put me on speakerphone.”

She did. “Torres, you’re on speaker now. I’m with Derek Vaughn.”

“Any chemical burns?” Derek asked.

“Not that I’m hearing. The cabbie caught some shrapnel. He was pulling up to the curb when the bomb went off.”

“Listen, Torres, a trash-can bomb is amateur hour. They’re creating a distraction.”

Pause. “A distraction from what?”

“We just got new intel,” Elizabeth said. “A convenience-store clerk near the motel remembers Fatima wearing a blue uniform for employees at the baseball stadium. We think that might be the target of the main attack.”

“The baseball park? The Midsummer Classic is tonight.”

“We know,” Derek said. “We’re heading over there now.”

“Shit, LeBlanc. You need to talk to Gordon. You’ve got orders to get your ass to the airport.”

“I keep calling him, but he won’t pick up.”

“That’s because he’s already there. They’re evacuating the airport and jamming all cell and radio communications in case there’s another device on remote control.”

“You need to get hold of him for me,” Elizabeth said. “Tell him to call me on a landline.” They hung up, and Elizabeth looked at Derek. “You think it’s a diversion?”

“I know it is.” Derek cut across traffic and gunned it onto the on-ramp of the freeway. It was rush hour, but he stayed on the shoulder, speeding past slow-moving cars and trucks. Her heart skittered as they raced past a motorcycle on the edge of the lane.

“Where’d you learn to drive like this?”

“Fallujah.”

“Please be careful.”

“Liz, listen to me. I believe the target’s the stadium, but this attack at the airport is a definite. You ignore those orders, you could get fired.”

She stared at him. “I can’t believe you just said that to me.”

“I have to put it out there. There’s a chance I’m wrong.”

“There’s a chance we’re wrong. I’m aware of that, but I don’t think we are.” She looked out the window and shuddered at how close they were to the concrete wall as he raced along the shoulder. She looked at him. “What does your gut tell you?”

“It’s the baseball game.” He didn’t hesitate. “The crowd, the symbolism, everything fits.”

“I know.” She took out her phone and pulled up a search engine. That SR-25 was nagging at her.

Derek pulled out his phone, too, and she plucked it from his hand.

“You drive, I’ll dial. Who do you need to reach?”

“Cole. He’s there in my call history.”

She put the phone on speaker in her lap as she juggled her cell. Cole answered after a few rings.

“Hey, it’s Derek. You left town yet?”

“My brother’s taking me to the airport.”

“It’s shut down,” Derek said. “They’re evacuating. The FBI’s responding to a bomb there with one confirmed casualty.”

“Seriously?”

“Seriously. Is there any chance you’ve got your new three hundred with you? The one with the Nightforce scope?”

Elizabeth glanced over at him.

“Yeah, I’m checking it through. Why?”

“I could really use a hand over at the baseball park.”

Silence.

“Cole?”

“This have to do with the thing at the airport?”

“Yes. But this is strictly off the books,” Derek said. “If you’re not up for it, I understand.”

“Hey, I’m there, man. Tell me what you need.”

Derek gave him instructions as Elizabeth scrolled through her phone, looking for anything in the news about VIPs attending the game.

She read a headline, and her blood ran cold. “Oh, God.”

Derek glanced at her. “What is it?”

“I just found out who’s throwing out the first pitch.”





* * *





The name hit him like a punch.

“The former president? You’re sure?”

“That’s what it says here.” She held up her phone. “I have to reach Gordon.”

“You have to reach the Secret Service. Who do you know over there?”

“What? Nobody.”

“Think, Liz.” He spotted a hole in traffic and cut into it. “Law enforcement’s a tight community. There’s got to be someone.”