Collateral Damage (Stone Barrington 25)

“It’s already being done—part of our protocol.”

The lights went off in the station, and Holly heard brakes hissing from down the tunnel. “Have them detain every unaccompanied woman who comes close to Jasmine’s description,” she said, then broke the connection and dug into her bag for the small but powerful lithium-powered flashlight she carried everywhere. She turned to the man behind her. “Come on!” She turned on the flashlight, jumped onto the tracks, and started running, the man close on her heels.

“What’s your name?” she shouted back at him.

“Troy.”

“You’ve seen the flyer with the woman’s photograph?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“We’re going into the last car on the train and work our way forward. She will resist, and she may have an explosive or a gun. Take no chances, be prepared to kill her.”

“I’m with you!”

Holly could see the train fifty yards ahead, now. The emergency lighting had come on in the cars, and they were dimly lit. She reached the rear car, got a foot on a step, and grabbed the door handle. Locked. She banged on the glass with the butt of her gun, and someone looked at her from inside. A man came and opened the door.

“Police!” she yelled. “Stand back!” Her man climbed in behind her, and she started moving down the packed car, the flashlight playing on each face. Nothing in the first car. She moved into the next car and searched it thoroughly, then moved on to another car. This one was very crowded, and as she opened the door, she saw a side door open ahead of her. “Police!” she kept yelling. “Everybody down!” People hit the floor in a hurry, and she could see the open door. She leaped over the prostrate people and jumped out the door, looking both ways.

Troy jumped down beside her. “I saw somebody run past the car on the tracks, headed back uptown. I couldn’t tell if it was a woman.”

“That way, then!” Holly yelled, and started to run back the way she had come. She checked between each car as she passed, then shone her small beam down the tracks. A shape was moving away from her. She ran after it.

Ahead another sixty yards or so she saw someone trying to climb onto the platform, and a couple of men were helping her. Holly sprinted toward the spot. “Troy!” she yelled. “Give me a leg up!” He did and she hit the platform on her knees and got to her feet. “Police!” she yelled at the crowd. “Which way did she go?”

Half a dozen people pointed toward the escalator. “Come on, Troy, the power is off. We’ll gain on her!” She elbowed her way through the crowd, shouting at them to get out of her way, and as she did, the station lights came on.

“Shit!” she yelled, and kept on, making her way toward the escalator, now operating. She ran up the moving steps, yelling at people, moving as fast as she could in the crowd. The station level was only a few yards ahead. She broke free of the crowd at the top of the escalator and ran toward the exit. She couldn’t see anyone who looked like Jasmine.

She got through the exit stile and ran toward the street, the daylight welcoming her. Then she was on the sidewalk, looking both ways. Traffic was at a halt. She leaped onto the hood of a taxi and climbed on top, giving her a good view in both directions.

Troy joined her, saying nothing, just looking.

“Anything?” Holly asked.

“Nothing,” Troy replied.

Holly let out a lungful of air. “That’s what I see, too,” she said.

The cabdriver got out of his cab. “Hey!” he yelled. “What the fuck are you doing?”

“Tap dancing on your roof,” Holly replied.

Holly went through the building, checking who was out. “A lot of us had lunch at that place two or three times a week,” a secretary told her. Holly made a list of names of people not in the building. Finally, she went down and called the director.

“Holly, I’ve been waiting for your call. I was told you were in pursuit.”

“I was, with a security guard named Troy, and we came close. She was on the subway, but she made it back onto the tracks and to the station while we were dealing with knots of passengers. She disappeared on Lexington Avenue.”

“Casualties?”

“Don’

t know yet,” Holly replied. “Fourteen people are not in the office, plus one who called in sick. The restaurant that was bombed was popular with our people, so we’re looking at losses. I haven’t heard the news reports, but I don’t see how anybody inside the place could survive that explosion. We’re going to have to keep everybody in the building for their whole shifts until we get Jasmine and her bunch.”

“Issue that order soonest,” Kate replied. “Call me back when you have a body count. I want names.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Holly hung up, wrung out from her massive expenditure of adrenaline. She closed the door and locked it, then flopped onto the sofa and was quickly asleep.