The stairwell echoed with boots. Rick helped Scott to his feet as Catherine pointed to a hidden service elevator. "It goes to the roof."
Nine minutes. Even if they reached the roof, they'd never get far enough away in time.
In the cramped elevator, Catherine stopped working the controls, her face pale. "The bomb isn't just timed. It's connected to the building's electrical grid—the new AC system installed last year."
Rick felt hope spark. "AC power means surge protectors. What happens if we overload the system?"
"The circuit breakers would trip," Scott gasped. "Everything would shut down."
"Including the bomb," Catherine finished. "But how do you create that kind of surge?"
Thunder rumbled overhead as they reached the roof. Rain began to fall.
"Lightning," Rick said, eyeing the radio antenna array. "We turn it into a lightning rod."
"Seven minutes," Catherine called out.
Rick ran toward the radio equipment, bullets spraying across the roof as the kill squad emerged. He dove behind cover, working frantically to disconnect surge protectors and reroute cables.
"Four minutes!"
The storm was almost overhead. Rick strung copper wire between the antenna and equipment, creating a direct pathway to the building's power grid.
"Two minutes!"
Lightning struck closer. The radio equipment crackled with static.
"One minute!"
Catherine stood up, hands raised. "Stop!" she shouted to the kill squad. "If that bomb goes off, we all die."
"Thirty seconds!"
Rick extended his improvised lightning rod as high as possible, then grabbed a wooden chair from the roof access and stood on it, using it as insulation. The storm was directly overhead now.
"Ten seconds!"
"Five!"
The lightning struck.
The bolt hit Rick's conductor with devastating force. The wooden chair exploded beneath him, throwing him clear as electricity surged through the building's system. Surge protectors exploded in showers of sparks. The main power grid died instantly.
In the sub-basement, the bomb's electrical trigger went dead.
Rick lay stunned on the wet roof, burns on his hands from the copper wire, but alive. The Federal Building stood intact.
"It's over," Catherine confirmed, checking her watch. "Your surge killed the trigger."
She pulled out a radio transmitter. "Control, this is Blackwood. Federal Building secure. Operation Thunderbird is blown."
Rick stared at her. "Who are you really?"
"Treasury Department—the good guys. We've been trying to stop Operation Thunderbird from the inside." She smiled genuinely. "Your father was getting close to the truth. We had to be certain you were really Thomas Forsyth's son."
"You were testing me."
"Every step. And you passed."
As dawn broke over Washington, Rick looked out over the city he'd helped save. The Federal Building's lights flickered back on as emergency generators kicked in.
"What happens now?" he asked.
"Now we finish what your father started," Catherine said. "We bring down the real conspiracy."
Scott nodded weakly. "The right way this time. No more lies."
Rick thought about his father, about justice versus vengeance. "No more lies," he agreed.
The storm was passing, and for the first time in years, Rick Forsyth could see clearly.