“Very well.”
“Okay, here we go.” Riffey led them at a trot across the pavement and then they paralleled the road. The moon was rising and gave the landscape a tint of silver.
Asadullah said, “I
smell farm animals.”
“It’s the stockyards over there to the right. Lots of cattle in the pens this time of year.” He kept up the pace until they reached an area of scrub mesquite where he stopped to switch hands on the tank. Lights showed behind them on the road, and he motioned Asadullah down to a crouch as the semi passed, gathering speed as it followed the pavement out of town. “We have to cross Stockyard Road up ahead of us, and there are some dogs in a yard near it. They bark at anything coming or going, so I thought we might double-time it across and for a little while past it, so they don’t wake anyone. Is that okay?”
“Yes, lead on, Riffey. You are doing very well tonight.”
Floyd trotted at a double-time pace and thought, The last time you gave me a compliment, you gassed an entire village with me in it. Not this time, you crazy bastard.
The dogs barked ferociously as soon as the two men stepped foot on Stockyard Road, and kept barking for a good thirty seconds after the two men passed out of their line of sight. Riffey took Asadullah on a path that went by the baseball fields and straight to the Activities Center. He stopped when they were a hundred feet from the buildings, then bent at the waist and moved his arm from left to right in front of his body to make an after you gesture as he said, “This is it.”
Asadullah motioned him forward, “Do not get behind me. Stay where I can see you.”
“I will. Sorry.”
“Are there security cameras?”
Riffey didn’t know if there were or not, but he wasn’t going to tell this killer the truth if there were. He hoped there were, so help would come. He said, “Nah, they never got around to it. Just regular door locks. No silent alarms or anything.”
“Take me to the doors.”
“Sure.” He lifted the tank and took a direction that went around the corner of the building to where the large, darker-than-night paved parking area spread before them. He turned right and led Asadullah to the doors.
The terrorist pointed at the wall by the doors, “Put your back against it and stay there.” Riffey did, and then watched Asadullah take a small cylinder the size of a tube of Chapstick from his pocket, pull off the cap and take out a set of lock picks. It didn’t take the terrorist long, and he swung the door wide, motioning with the pistol for his prisoner to enter. Riffey started in, then Asadullah said, “Take the tank.” Riffey took a step back, picked it up and entered the building.
The darkness was like being in a mine. Asadullah took out his phone and used the light to show the area in front of them. Riffey led the way to the gym. The doors stood open in readiness for tomorrow, and the floor was filled with several hundred folding chairs arranged so that a center aisle opened all the way to the raised wooden platform. A blue curtain covered the platform perimeter from the top edge to the floor. Stairs attached at the left end, and chairs and a microphone stand were on the platform.
Asadullah nudged his prisoner down the aisle to the platform. “Sit,” he told Riffey, and pointed to a chair. Pulling the tank to him, the terrorist opened the sport bag and removed the Det Cord. He wrapped it in a tight, overlapping line around the middle of the tank, looping it back through and leaving six inches of cord hanging loose from the rest. He shook it to check that the cord stayed in place. The blasting cap was next, and he put it on the floor, then reached into his pocket and took out his cell.
Using the Leatherman to disassemble the phone took very little time, and he had the blasting cap attached in under a minute. Riffey tried to peek over Asadullah’s shoulder to see, but by then the terrorist was through. He turned the tank on its side and attached the blasting cap to the Det Cord so that the phone hung down.
He turned to Riffey, “Move the chairs and microphone off the podium.”
Riffey didn’t argue. When he finished, he said, “Are we through?”
“Come here and lift the edge of the podium.”
Riffey trotted to him and bent to grasp the edge of the wooden platform. He strained and it came up several inches, then stopped. Riffey quivered with the effort, but couldn’t get it any higher. He set it down, “I can’t.”
Asadullah moved beside him, grasped the podium and said, “Lift.” Riffey tried again, and the two men raised it high enough for the terrorist to scoot his feet against the tank and slide it underneath. They sat the podium down and Riffey said, “How’d you rig it?”
“The alarm.”
“Set it for noon, huh?”
“If you want to die now, ask me another question.” He motioned with the pistol toward the gym doors. “Go in front of me.” When they exited the building, Asadullah made sure that the door was locked. He pointed a direction and Riffey started walking. A distant flicker caught his attention and he turned his head in that direction. It happened again. Lightning in far off storm clouds on the horizon. They would get here today, he thought.
Riffey said, “Where are we going?”
“Where is your apartment?”
Ice ran down Riffey’s spine. “You know?”
“That you had one, not the address. Take us there, daylight is almost on us.”