Threat Level Black

Faud felt his body tremble as he hoisted the oxygen pack to his back. His hands were so slippery that the pistol fell to the cement, clattering on the floor. As he stooped down to grab at the gun, the blood rushed to his head. Faud felt himself loosing his balance. He tightened his hand around the weapon and straightened slowly.

He must not fail, he told himself.

Chapter 14

Fisher waded through the water, reaching a set of concrete steps as the lights snapped off.

Damn it, he thought to himself, I’m always running late in this stinking city.

He stepped up to the top of the stairs. A long stretch of pipes ran to the right, splitting the passage in two. He heard something move ahead.

“Yo. Give it up,” yelled Fisher.

There was no answer.

“You’re not going to make it to the ventilation system. You have to climb all the way up the shaft. I’ll shoot you before you make it halfway up. A couple of times.”

No answer. Fisher sighed and reached to touch the wall with his left hand, walking gingerly along it. The bottom of a service elevator shaft opened about fifty feet ahead.

“You see me, Faud?”

The terrorist answered by firing a gun.

“Dinky little twenty-two, I bet,” said Fisher.

The gun flashed again, this time giving Fisher an idea of where it was. He fired three of his.44’s six bullets, and all smacked hard against a pipe at the far end.

The terrorist shot again. He, too, missed, though Fisher noted that the ricochet was a bit closer.

“All right, let’s get this part out of the way,” yelled the FBI agent. “You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law. You have a right to an attorney-”

A succession of bullets flew through the air. Fisher fired again. When he heard Faud dropping his gear, he realized he’d missed again.

“Hey!” shouted someone from above. Macklin was in the elevator shaft. “Hey!”

More gunfire. More smoke. Fisher tried to remember what the technical people had told him a few weeks earlier about sarin’s ability to spread.

Just as well he couldn’t remember, he thought.

“Stop him!” yelled a voice as the subbasement once more echoed with the roar of gunfire.

Fisher dropped to his knee.

So, where was the terrorist? And did he have friends?

Fisher realized where he was too late to beat him back to the passage. He fired a shot, then yelled to Macklin to grab the canisters.

“Where are they?” shouted Macklin.

“I haven’t a clue,” yelled Fisher. “But they’ll look out of place, even down here, don’t you think?”

Fisher stopped, listening near the opening. Faud was out on the track somewhere.

“Firemen,” said Fisher aloud.

“Firemen?”

“Who would you let into a building in a blackout? A fireman,” said Fisher, answering his own question. “Jeez, what a dummy. I’ve been thinking Con Ed. Look for a fireman’s oxygen tank,” he shouted to Macklin.

“Really?”

“Macklin, if you’re going to ask me questions all day, we’re never going to catch this scumbag,” said Fisher.

He stuck his hand through the opening, then pulled back just as a fusillade of bullets hit the wall. He got down on his stomach and slid beneath the pipes to the entrance Faud had used. But it was still pitch-black and he couldn’t see.

Cursing, Fisher reached back and pulled off his shoe, then slid around so he could throw it in front of the other opening. When Faud started firing, Fisher pulled himself out, fired once, and tumbled down onto the tracks.

Faud stood in the darkness a few feet away. Fisher brought his gun up to fire. As he did, Faud aimed first and pulled the trigger.

Empty.

“Who says today’s not my lucky day?” asked Fisher, rising slowly.

He, too, was out of bullets, though he wasn’t about to share that bit of news.

“You heard your rights, right?” Fisher asked.

The terrorist threw down the gun. Fisher saw him pull something from his pocket-not a weapon, but some sort of canister.

“Let me just guess: sarin gas, right? Going to kill us both?” Fisher took a step. Faud took two backward.

“Except you took the antidote, right? I did,” lied Fisher.

They’d offered him a shot but he hated needles.

“Give it up,” said Fisher. “You’re only going to kill yourself. The antidote might not work.”

“You’ll die too,” growled the man.

“Hey, let’s say you’re right. Where’s the thrill in that?”

Fisher took an awkward step forward with his shoeless foot. The terrorist had taken off or lost his night vision goggles. They were twelve feet apart.

“Better watch where you’re going,” said the agent as Faud edged down the tunnel. “Lights are going to come on and you’re going to fry yourself.”

Faud took a step backward, then another.

“Mrs. DeGarmo says hi,” said Fisher.

Faud didn’t answer.

“I didn’t think that was going to work,” said Fisher. “But seriously, now, you better watch where you’re going. Power comes on, this tunnel’s a death trap. Come out with me and we’ll talk.”

“The power won’t be on for months.”

“I wouldn’t count on it. Con Ed’s not nearly as inefficient as everyone thinks.”

“Go to hell.”