Page 67 of The Devoted Game
If he was wrong and Trenton wasn’t in this church ... there likely wouldn’t be enough time to narrow down another location before time ran out. Trenton would die and so would Shelby.
Devoted Fan would be proven a fool, and Ryan’s inability to get the job done would confirm that the Bureau had been right to off-load him three years ago.
Sure, the big exposé that reporter had done revealed the war that had gone down between Quinn and Ryan, but any agent worth his salt would recognize that didn’t prove a damned thing. Ryan’s retrieval plan could very well have gone wrong just as Quinn’s route had. There was no way to ever be sure. Maybe the Bureau had been right ... maybe he had been destined to crash and burn. And just maybe if he hadn’t been, Quinn wouldn’t have snatched control away at the last minute.
Any way you looked at it, Ryan couldn’t say it wasn’t his fault. All the more reason he shouldn’t be here doing this. People were counting on him, and he wasn’t sure he could live up to the expectations.
Unfortunately, there wasn’t shit he could do about it.
One last pull from the smoke, and he pushed away from the car. He dropped the butt on the sidewalk, ground it out, but then picked up the snuffed-out remains and shoved them into his pocket. This was a church, after all.
Sacred ground. Where four little girls had died in a bombing because some asshole had thought he was better than them.
. . . he must be humbled . . .
Confidence nudged at Ryan. This had to be the place. Devoted Fan wanted this high profile. He wanted the world watching ...
Ryan rushed up the steps two at a time, reached the entrance just as Grace and Arnold followed Simmons inside.
The main sanctuary was filled with pews dressed in thick red cushions, and that same brilliant red spilled across the floor in the form of carpet. A balcony circled the sanctuary, providing additional seating. Massive stained glass windows, each telling a story, wrapped the room in biblical accountings.
The Reverend Simmons led the way through the sanctuary and to all rooms and halls on the upper floor. Ryan’s gut twisted as each area revealed nothing.
“What about the basement level?” he asked, when it was obvious that the sanctuary level was clear.
“This way.” The reverend indicated the door to his right. “I was here until around seven last night,” he explained as he led the way down the winding staircase. “Everything was fine when I left.”
“To this day the church gets bomb threats,” Arnold said to Ryan. “Every time the church is in the news, the threats filter in as if the news roused some lowlife—”
“Lord have mercy, Jesus,” Simmons gasped.
Ryan moved down the last step to stand next to the reverend, whose horrified gaze had fixated on the abomination erected in the center of the large basement’s gathering place. What appeared to be a bomb in the center of it all launched a new blast of adrenaline through Ryan.
“Nobody move,” he warned.
He wove between the tables and chairs until he stood before the rudimentary cross where Dr. Kurt Trenton had been fastened crucifixion style. Using extreme caution, Ryan reached up, touched Trenton’s carotid artery. “He’s alive,” he called back to the others.
Alive and naked, save for the bomb on his chest. Trenton’s eyes were closed. Written in black marker across his forehead was one word:godless. His arms and legs had been secured in place with silver duct tape. His mouth was taped shut the same as the other vics’ had been. At least Devoted Fan was sticking with his tools of choice. Except ... for the bomb. That was definitely a little more high tech.
“Is that ...” Arnold asked without coming any closer, “what I think it is?”
“Looks like.” Ryan watched the digital timer count down from three hours fifty-five minutes, and then he considered the IED, improvised explosive device. The working parts were strung together against the doctor’s chest with no casing or enclosure of any sort. Just the guts. Asif the doctor’s innards had been bared for the world to see. And they would be if this thing went off.
Ryan turned to face the man of the cloth waiting with Grace and Arnold. “Reverend, I want you and Agent Arnold to go outside and start knocking on the doors of any houses or businesses close by where there might be people. Birmingham PD will assist when they arrive. If this thing goes off, I don’t want anybody in the possible blast radius. I don’t know what kind of load this thing has, but better to be safe than sorry.” Ryan’s throat tightened. He swallowed. Didn’t help. “Grace, go outside with the others. Call Worth and tell him to get me a bomb unit over here.Now.”
“I’ll make the call, and then I’ll be back.”
He’d expected that. No way was he allowing her to play hero. “Arnold, if she tries to come back in here, restrain her.”
“Yes, sir.”
Returning his attention to Trenton, Ryan felt the daggers flying at his back. This was no time to argue. Grace could thank him later.Ifhe didn’t end up splattered all over the block.
The digital clock was ticking right on down, but, barring any unexpected deviations from Devoted Fan’s usual MO, there was plenty of time for the bomb unit to get here and take care of this.
Ryan studied the assembly. The timer and battery were connected to a detonator, which led to a block of what looked like C-4. Defusing this thing shouldn’t be a problem for a trained technician. He had defused one during his career, but it had been a long-ass time and he had been in contact with an expert during the whole process. He hoped that wouldn’t be necessary this morning. He’d hate like hell to get this fancy doctor killed ... or be responsible for the loss of this historic landmark.
Unless ... Maybe he could get it off the victim’s chest, lay it carefully on the floor, then get the victim out of here. That could work.