"Showtime, sweetheart," Hannah said playfully as she looped her arm around Jack's, waving a small American flag she'd somehow dug up from the Suburban. Her cheerful demeanor contrasted starkly with the tension in their hushed conversation.
"Four hundred pounds of explosives is a lot of material; it shouldn't be too hard to spot. There's a lower floor below the main hall—fitness rooms, storage lockers, restrooms. Start there." Jack kept a polite smile as they entered the crowded entrance to the Ulster County Recreation Center.
The so-called "entertainment center" was a multipurpose facility used for sports events like basketball and badminton, but it could quickly transform into a venue for ceremonies like today's citizenship ceremony. Curtains, podiums, and rows of chairs had turned the sports hall into an auditorium packed with hundreds of people.
Outside the building, there was a basic baseball field with a small stadium for spectators. Morning joggers were already making use of the track surrounding it. Jack compared the surroundings to the briefing materials he'd received from the operations center, mentally mapping the layout as he tucked away his phone.
As his phone buzzed again, Jack glanced at the screen, where two photos appeared. The voice of Jubal crackled through his earpiece, "ERT just confirmed these two sets of fingerprints on the truck—Robbins and Lindsey. They match the descriptions of Emma Kane's other accomplices."
Jack didn't respond aloud—he was nearing the metal detectors at the building's entrance. The area was packed with participants and spectators for the ceremony. Local Ulster County police were doing their best to slow the flow of people entering the venue, per FBI instructions, to buy time.
He nodded at a deputy stationed at a side passage, briefly pulling back his coat to reveal his badge and raising four fingers to indicate his group. The officer silently stepped aside to let them through. Behind him, Hannah and the two EOD experts followed.
"Until the bomb is found—or until I give the word—don't activate the signal jammers," Jack reminded them in a low voice.
Prematurely jamming signals could compromise their own communication and potentially cause panic if the culprits noticed. Jack knew the importance of securing the bomb, but apprehending Emma Kane and her accomplices was just as critical.
The Kane group might not be the most sophisticated of terrorists, but they were far more dangerous than most radical groups that relied on empty rhetoric. Their decisive actions made them a real threat. If they escaped today, they could come back more experienced and more dangerous next time.
Hannah gave him a quick nod, planting a light kiss on his cheek before leading the EOD specialists down the stairs toward the lower floor. A small group of arriving FBI agents joined them to assist in the bomb search.
Jack headed in the opposite direction, making his way toward a maintenance corridor that led to the roof.
Through the earpiece, he heard LaCroix's team checking in.
"Boss, we've got eyes on Emma's goons. Northwest corner, near the parking lot. Robbins is on the phone; he looks agitated, probably wondering why it's taking so long for people to enter," reported one of LaCroix's team members.
"Keep eyes on them," LaCroix replied calmly. "I'm still looking for the 'queen bee.'"
LaCroix's composure radiated through the comms, a reflection of his years of experience leading the FBI's Fugitive Task Force, a group tasked with apprehending the most dangerous fugitives on the run. While BAU specialized in criminal profiling, LaCroix's team brought a no-nonsense, tactical edge to their operations.
As Jack reached the rooftop, Hannah's voice came through the comms, tense but clear.
"Found the bomb—it's in the storage room near the fitness center. No timer, remote-triggered. Preparing to defuse."
"Wait for my signal. Almost in position. Have we located Emma yet?" Jack asked as he set down his rifle case and quickly assembled the G28E, attaching its suppressor and loading a magazine.
There was a brief pause before LaCroix's voice returned.
"Got her. South side bench. Pink shirt, green jacket."
Jack moved to the southern edge of the roof, crouching behind the low wall. Through the rifle's scope, he scanned the area and quickly found LaCroix, who was standing next to a mountain bike, dressed inconspicuously as an early-morning jogger. Following his gaze, Jack located the target: Emma Kane.
She sat on a bench about 30 feet away from LaCroix, her face pale and tense. Her hands trembled as she clutched her phone, her eyes repeatedly darting toward the recreation center. The hatred in her gaze was unmistakable.
"I'm in position," Jack murmured.
"Her accomplices are in custody. No sign of a detonator on them," another agent reported through the comms.
"Signal jammer active. Start disarming," Jack ordered.
As the jammers went live, a faint static buzz filled his earpiece. Nearby, a few spectators tried to make phone calls, only to glance at their devices in confusion.
Emma Kane noticed the change immediately. She glanced at her phone, her expression growing alarmed as it showed no signal. Her hands moved quickly, setting the phone down on the bench and pulling a small remote controller from her jacket pocket.
"Emma Kane!" LaCroix's booming voice broke the morning calm as he stepped forward.
Startled, Emma's head jerked up. Her eyes widened as she registered LaCroix's approach. In that split second of hesitation, Jack pulled the trigger.
The suppressed shot cracked through the air, the bullet traveling the short distance in less than a heartbeat. It struck her squarely in the forehead, snapping her head back as a fine mist of blood sprayed into the grass behind her.
LaCroix lunged forward, grabbing her limp hand to carefully extract the remote control before it could fall. Once he secured it, he released her body, letting it slump lifelessly onto the bench.
"Bomb disarmed," came Hannah's voice over the comms, her relief evident.
"Suspect down," LaCroix confirmed. He turned his head to glance up at the recreation center's rooftop, where Jack gave him a small nod from behind his rifle.
LaCroix's lips curved into a faint smile, his forehead wrinkling slightly with a deep nod in acknowledgment.
"Nice shot, Agent Tavore."
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