Beyond Limits (Tracers #8)(91)
Chapter Twenty-four
Derek raced down the corridor, trailing blood. Was it his? Rasheed’s? He didn’t know, and he didn’t have time to care as he jerked open the door to the stairwell. Boots thundered up from below. He bounded down the steps, then yanked open the door and darted out of the stairwell just in time to avoid the coming cavalry. He found himself back on the executive-suites level, where people in suits were racing back and forth. Some were agents, and some were bigwigs who’d been enjoying thousand-dollar views until chaos erupted. Derek’s eyes stung from blood and sweat, and he ducked through a door and into a service corridor, where he’d attract less attention. Although not crowded with fans, the passageway was filled with security people. It was only a matter of seconds before someone noticed him and tried to detain him.
An elevator slid open, expelling a scrum of Secret Service agents. Derek dropped into a crouch, pretending to tie his shoe as they hustled past him. He sprang to his feet and hopped into the empty car, then jabbed the button for the ground level as his phone vibrated in his pocket. It was Elizabeth.
“Thank God!” she said. “I thought you were dead.”
“Nope, but Ahmed Rasheed is. He shot himself.”
“What?”
“I’ll explain later. What’s happening there?”
“I need you on the main level. The bomb squad discovered a hot-dog cart packed with explosives by the left-field gate.”
“Shit.” He jabbed the button again. “They disarm it?”
“No, they didn’t think they could do it fast enough. It was on a timer, so they rushed it into an armored vehicle and whisked it out of here.”
The doors parted, and Derek found himself in another corridor, this one flooded with both civilians and stadium personnel. “They need to keep looking,” Derek told her. “One is none, and two is one.”
“What?”
He pushed his way through the crowd. “Demo guys like to back up their charges. They wouldn’t rely on only one bomb. I guarantee you there’s another one, probably on the opposite side of the stadium. We need to search the right-field gate.”
“I’ll tell them.”
“And why aren’t they jamming cell phones yet?”
“I have no idea.”
“This is a train wreck, Liz. The next one could be remote-controlled—”
Sirens pierced the air as the emergency alarm went off. Red strobes started flashing, and a recorded voice came over the PA system: “Emergency evacuation is in effect. Proceed with caution to the nearest exit . . .”
Giving up on his phone, Derek plowed through a door into the main concourse. The surge of people hit him like a tidal wave, and he pushed his way toward the right-field exit, scanning the walls, the corners, the alcoves for any sign of another IED. He reached the ramp but didn’t see anything suspicious. He turned and fought the tide back into the concession area, which had been abandoned by staffers.
He spotted it. Parked right beside a restroom, a lone hot-dog cart.
Derek pushed through the mob. He crouched beside the cart, which had three storage compartments, all secured shut with heavy-duty chain and padlocks. He peered underneath, sensing what he was going to see before he saw it.
Affixed to the base with a hunk of C-4 was a timer.
* * *
Elizabeth forced her way through the throng of people, searching frantically for Derek. She tried him again on her phone.
“Where are you?”
“Main concession area, behind right field. Send your bomb techs over here. I’ve got another one.”
“Another IED?” She pushed through the crowd.
“It’s on a timer,” he said.
“How much longer?”
Silence.
“Derek? Derek?”
The call had dropped. Heart hammering, she elbowed her way through the people, managing not to get swept into the riptide pouring through the ground-level exit. She spied Derek at the end of the corridor, kneeling beside a food cart. He had a pocket knife clenched in his teeth as he manipulated some wires.
She sprinted over. “How long?”
He glanced up at her and took the knife from his mouth. “Where’s Gray Wolf?”
“They got him evacuated.”
He glanced around. “We need to get this thing out of here.”
“Any way to defuse it?”
“Not in four minutes.”
“Four minutes?”
“That’s right. And it looks to be rigged with a backup detonator that’s locked inside.”
“What can I do?”
He looked up at her, and for once, his eyes were easy to read. He wanted her to evacuate with the civilians, but he knew she wouldn’t. “We have to get this thing to a contained area, preferably underground, but the elevators are down.” He glanced around. “Go find a maintenance guy, a firefighter, whatever. Someone who can override the elevator switch.”
“I’m on it.”
* * *
Derek’s phone vibrated again. He put it on speaker and tossed it onto the floor to keep his hands free.
“What’s the status?” Cole asked.