Stacy on her own in this hazardous maze.
He turned around to look at her, but she was already crawling back toward the governor’s position. He sighed, frustrated and worried.
“I’m still going to need to get in there, even if I can’t move past that support beam,” the officer behind him called out in a reasonable tone. “I need to get closer to the bomb if I’m going to help your friend disarm it.”
He was right. Harlan was just in the way at this point. He started crawling back out of the hole, emerging on the outside a few seconds later to find himself surrounded by bomb squad members. They were already assessing the debris pile to see if there was a better way to the bomb site.
“There’s a whole lot of junk in there ready to fall down on top of you,” Harlan warned the one who seemed to be in charge. He showed the man the cell phone photo from Stacy. “Here’s a picture of the bomb.”
The bomb tech frowned. “Semtex. Radio controlled, if I had to guess.”
“Which may mean he’s around here somewhere, waiting to send a signal,” Harlan said. At the bomb tech’s odd look, he added, “Three stints in Iraq.”
“Ah.” The bomb tech nodded. “It’s probably not going to blow if someone touches it—there don’t appear to be any trip wires. I think what we have to do is send in a blast blanket to the aide—”
“Stacy Giordano,” Harlan supplied.
“Ms. Giordano can detach the bomb—looks like it’s just taped to the post—and cover it with the blast blanket. We’ve got one that has a radio frequency jammer built in. It ought to block any remote signal he tries to send.”
“If he’s watching, he might send the signal as soon as he spots the blanket.”
“We can hide the blanket in something else so he doesn’t know we’re taking it in,” the bomb tech suggested. “We could send in a protective suit and shield the blanket with that.”
“I’ll take it in,” Harlan suggested. “Whoever’s watching will be less suspicious of me than of you guys. Plus, I know how the blast blanket works, so I can talk her through it.”
The bomb tech frowned, as if he were considering arguing. But finally he nodded. “Just tell her to make sure the yellow side is down.”
Harlan nodded.
The minute and a half it took for the bomb squad technicians to surreptitiously hide the blast blanket bag between the folds of the bomb suit seemed to drag on forever. Harlan found himself scanning the area the whole time, wondering if the bomber was watching him at that very moment.
Large numbers of police had finally arrived, keeping the curious onlookers away from the blast area, but a radio signal wouldn’t have to come from nearby to do the job. The bomb squad couldn’t run full force radio jammers now because it would interfere with the communications between the first responders, a potentially disastrous scenario.
So until Stacy could get that blanket wrapped around the bomb, the bomber had all the time in the world to make his move.
What was the bomber waiting for, anyway? The governor was a sitting duck. He could have already set off the second blast, the second it was clear that she was still alive.
Why hadn’t the bomber made his move?
“All set.” The bomb tech interrupted Harlan’s musings, handing him the bomb suit. He made sure Harlan had a tight grip on the handle of the blast blanket bag peeking out through a space in the suit and nodded for him to go back into the maze. “I’ll go around and tell Ms. Giordano what we’re doing.”
As soon as Harlan was pretty sure he was no longer visible to anyone other than people standing right outside the debris pile, he dropped the suit and pulled out the blast blanket contained in a nylon bag about the size of an artist’s portfolio. He hurried as quickly as he dared to the teetering support pole and found Stacy already waiting for him, the bomb lying next to her on the grass.
Somehow, he hadn’t expected her to bring the bomb with her. But it was probably smart—the area where she now crouched was about as wide a space as she’d find under the fallen platform.
“Here, let me help you get the blanket through,” she said, her dark eyes wide with terror but her chin squared with determination. Once again, Harlan had to give her extra points for sheer guts.
He helped her slide the bag through the narrow space between the sagging pole and the debris field blocking wider access, taking care not to let anything touch the pole.
Once Stacy had the bag clear of the pole, she looked back at Harlan. “What do I do?”
“Inside is a blanket and a smaller collar.” He watched as she unzipped the bag and pulled out the contents. “Wrap that collar around the bomb without letting it touch it. Use the Velcro fasteners to close it.”
As he took her through the steps of shielding the bomb with the blanket, he was struck by how calmly she was following his orders. Her hands shook a little, but she managed to do everything right the first time. Within a few minutes, the bomb was covered by the blast blanket and the low-frequency radio jammer was working.
Harlan released a sigh of relief. “Go see if you can get the governor out. I’ll wait here.”
He found himself staring at the dark blue blanket lying on the ground on the other side of the narrow gap, sweat dripping down his forehead. He’d seen an earlier version of the blanket used in Iraq, one with passive rather than active radio jamming capabilities. Most of the time, it had worked.
Once, it hadn’t, and he had the shrapnel scars on his trigger hand to show for it. That and an honorable discharge from the Marine Corps that amounted to “Thanks for your service—now get lost.”
He heard the sound of movement from the direction in which Stacy had disappeared. A few seconds later, the governor’s pale, perspiring face appeared in the gloom. She managed a quick smile as she caught sight of Harlan watching her through the narrow gap.
“You’re a hell of a lot more handsome than I remembered,” she said with a weak chuckle.
“Clearly you need immediate medical attention,” Harlan responded in a teasing tone, relieved to see the governor was able to move around under her own steam.
Bringing up the rear, Stacy Giordano looked wiped out, as if only her determination to help the governor escape had been holding her together over the past hour.
Gingerly, the governor slipped through the narrow gap, careful to avoid the precarious support beam. Harlan didn’t even have to call for help—one of the EMTs hurried inside and took charge of the governor, helping her out of the ruins.
Harlan turned to look after Stacy Giordano, catching her as she tripped and swayed precariously close to the slanting pole. Her fingers tangled in the fabric of his shirt, and her dark eyes flickered up to meet his.
The air between them heated, so volatile that Harlan wondered, for a crazy second, if it was enough to set off the bomb they’d so carefully neutralized.
Then Stacy found her balance and let go of his shirt. The tension eased, though it didn’t dissipate
