Stolen

CHAPTER 63



Chief Higgins pulled me over to Special Agent Brenner. I kept looking for Clegg but couldn’t find him anywhere. I also kept looking up at Dobson, as did everyone else, judging by the collective gasps.

A breeze kicked up, hard enough to ruffle hair and launch tiny dervishes of dust and debris into the air. The gasps from the crowds grew louder when Dobson momentarily lost his balance. He quickly recovered, his arms pressed spread-eagle against the wall. Dobson’s body moved in one giant quiver. Every part of him seemed to be shaking. I was amazed that he didn’t shake himself right off the building’s ledge. I didn’t know what scared him more—the possibility that he could fall or the fact that he was wearing a bomb strapped around his chest.

“Here’s the deal,” Higgins said. “Our guy is watching this nightmare from someplace. He says he’s not anywhere near here, but who knows if that’s true. Says he’s got a camera that can see the ledge and another one inside the apartment and that he’s watching. Apparently, this guy Henry Dobson was taken hostage sometime last night.”

“Anybody even remotely connected to me is a target,” I said.

“What’s Dobson wearing?” Brenner asked. “Do we know anything about the device?”

“I was told the bomb is fifty pounds of a homemade explosive mixed with iron shrapnel. It’s enough to take off the top of the building, that’s for sure. Agent Brenner, I want your people on it. See what you can make of it, and give us your analysis.”

“Of course,” Brenner said. “But did he say what he wants?”

“There’s a switch to deactivate the bomb that’s inaccessible because of a lock he put in front of it.”

You can’t keep your greatest fear locked up forever. It’s time to pick it open, I thought.

My other thought: Computer hackers love picking real locks. It’s all about figuring out how mechanics work, finding the weakness in the design, and exploiting every bit of that vulnerability for fun or for profit. That’s the hacker creed. That was the game I started to play the moment I stole Uretsky’s identity. So it was fitting in this Fiend’s corrupted logic chain that it should be my final test as well.

But this was more than just about lock picking. He wanted me to do it standing on a ledge, looking down at the pavement, facing my greatest fear. This was his ultimate test of my ability and my will.

I was processing all of this when Higgins said to Brenner, “He wants John to go out onto the ledge and pick the lock, then hit the switch to deactivate the bomb. If anybody else goes up there, he says he’ll trigger it remotely.”

“That’ll kill Ruby!” I shouted.

“I think that’s the idea,” Higgins said. “Ruby is tied up in the apartment, at least according to him. If anybody tries to untie her, he’ll blow the bomb. Anybody else goes inside, he’ll blow the bomb.”

My phone buzzed. I lifted it up to read the text message.




Get the keys and get inside, John. You have sixty seconds to make your move.





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