Because what if the three billion dollars were paid? What was to stop them from blowing up the cliff anyway? Or charging another three billion next week?
Though it wasn’t announced, the mayor had also decided that, deadline or no deadline, she wasn’t going to give them a single penny of her or the city’s money. Which, again, was exactly right, in my humble opinion. Terrorists needed to be dealt with head-on. Whoever was doing this to us needed to be found and stopped, not negotiated with.
After a quick strap-in by the Black Hawk’s crew chief, the chopper took off and stayed low as we headed north up the Hudson. Through cold air blasting in my face from a half-open window, I stared out at the glittering strings of Manhattan’s lights on my right.
The glittering, unmoving strings of Manhattan’s lights.
Despite the mayor’s directive not to drive, it was obvious that the streets were completely impassable because of traffic.
Staring at the sea of dead-stopped cars, I thought about Martin and the kids. The last message I had received from them, about an hour and a half ago, was that they were all together and crossing into Westchester.
Were they far enough away? I wondered, looking north up the lightless river. They had to be, right? Or at least they would be far enough away by the deadline tomorrow.
At least that’s what I was going to keep telling myself, I decided, as I took out my phone again.
“Mike? Hello? Are you there?” said Seamus as my call, surprisingly, went through.
“Yes, Seamus. It’s me,” I said straining to hear over the engine whine. “Where are you? Did you get out? Where are you?”
“We’re—”
Then the signal went screwy.
I ripped the phone off my ear and stared at the screen. It was still connected.
“Seamus?” I said. “Seamus?”
Then I looked at the screen again and cursed.
The line was dead.
CHAPTER 83
“MIKE? ARE YOU there, Mike?” said Seamus as he lifted the phone off his ear and stared at its screen.
“It cut off,” he said.
“Ah, the cell sites are just melting, Father. Must be millions trying to get through now,” Martin said as he let out an extra-large breath.
Martin’s glance went from the standstill traffic to the needle of the gas gauge, which was at the halfway point now, then back to the traffic again. He wiped his sweating forehead. He’d give it another minute, then turn off the engine to conserve gas, he decided.
They were on Broadway in Yonkers. It was a sketchy part of town—run-down houses and buildings and stores. They’d been stopped for almost five minutes, which meant God only knows what was happening up ahead. In the last hour, they had probably traveled less than a mile.
As Martin watched, two stocky young Hispanic kids zoomed past on a Kawasaki dirt bike. The one on the back was seated backwards, and he gave Martin and the good Father the finger as his buddy threaded between the cars.
“Did ya see that, Father?” Martin said. “That wasn’t very neighborly, now, was it?”
“We’re not on the old sod anymore, Martin,” Seamus said, shaking his head. “It’s probably best to pretend you’re blind.”
Martin turned to his left and looked beyond an empty parking lot as the Metro-North Hudson Line train went slowly by. It was incredibly packed with people in and even standing between the cars. On the last car, there were several people sitting on the roof!
It was like something out of news footage from the Great Depression or a science fiction film, Martin thought. This crazy country. He’d just wanted to make a little pocket money with the nanny job, and now look where he was. Wandering the set of The War of the Worlds 2.
When the train finally passed, he could see the Hudson River. Great, he thought, drumming his fingers on the wheel. They were right next to water, the one place Mike had specifically told them not to be.
Should they leave the van and try to get on a train? Martin thought, staring at the gas gauge again. He let out another long breath as he bit at his lower lip. It was impossible to know what to do.
“Martin?” Jane called from the back, distress in her voice.
“What is it?” Martin said, trying to keep his tone light for the children.
“Bad news, Martin,” she said.
“How is that even possible?” Martin said under his breath.
“It’s Jasper. I think…well, I think he has to tinkle.”
“You want to walk the dog out there in the ’hood?” Seamus said, turning around in the passenger seat with a flabbergasted look.
“It’s either out there, Gramps,” said Jane, shrugging, “or right here in the van.”
“Okay, okay. Brian and Eddie and Ricky and—what the heck—you, too, Trent. Look lively and get the leash. I have an important mission for you boys. You’re all on Jasper tinkle patrol,” Seamus said.
“Yes!” said Brian, putting the now-moaning Jasper on the leash. “Finally something to do!”
“Buddy system, okay, boys?” Martin said. “Leave no man behind.”
“Or dog!” said Chrissy frantically. “Or dog!”