36: A Novel Read Free Page A

the current to a series of blasting caps embedded in sixteen, 55 gallon drums riding in the back of the truck.
    Each drum contained the same explosive combination of chemicals that had been used by Timothy McVeigh to bomb the federal building in Oklahoma City in 1995.  In total, the bomb driven by Trevor was the same size, weighing in at slightly over 7,000 pounds. 
    The resulting explosion tore the ferry boat in half and shattered windows all along the Seattle waterfront.  In less than five minutes, the two halves of the devastated vessel sank beneath the calm waters of Puget Sound.  Over two thousand passengers and crew lost their lives.
     

2
     
    “She failed,” Ian Patterson said when the large clock reached zero.
    The clock was mounted high on a wall, above a set of thick windows that looked into a small chamber.  A round dais was in the middle of the room, surrounded by curved glass panels that slid open for access.  A powerful, low frequency hum came from beneath the floor.
     Turning, Patterson studied a muted TV screen.  It was tuned to CNN and footage of multiple Coast Guard ships spread across Seattle’s Eliot Bay was being broadcast live.
    “Run the security footage from the docks,” he said to another technician.  “If she got close, we should be able to see it now.”
    The TV screen went dark for a moment, then the image of Pier 52 in Seattle appeared. 
    “There’s the truck,” FBI agent William Johnson said.
    Patterson nodded, intently watching the display.  He watched as more cars arrived and took their place in the queue to board the ferry.  Soon the arrivals had completed driving off the boat and boarding began. 
    “There!”
    Agent Johnson pointed at a slight figure on a motorcycle, slowly driving along the back of each row of waiting cars.  The rider was dressed in all black with a black helmet, pausing at each space between rows and looking for something.
    “How are you sure?”  Patterson asked without turning his attention away from the screen.
    “She loves bikes, and I recognize her hair.”
    Patterson didn’t say anything, looking closer at the thick mane of red hair that spilled from under the helmet and down the rider’s back. 
    “She sees the target,” Johnson said softly.
    On the screen, the rider had cranked the big bike to the side and accelerated down a gap between two lines of vehicles.  Arms were being waved by the waiting drivers and both men cursed softly when they saw the door of a pickup open suddenly, directly in the motorcycle’s path.  The rider barely stopped in time, a large man wearing jeans, work boots and a flannel shirt stepping out and yelling at her.
    By the time she had backed up and squeezed through a gap between two cars, the white GMC truck had disappeared onto the ferry.  Weaving through moving vehicles, the rider chased after, having to stop again when a crewman stepped in her path and waved a minivan onto the boat ahead of her.  As soon as it was clear, she gunned the engine and shot forward, swerving around the crewman and going out of sight aboard the ferry.
    The two men stood watching the footage as the last cars were loaded.  The ramp was retracted and minutes later the large vessel began moving away from the dock.  Patterson started a stopwatch function on his phone and looked at the timestamp on the screen as the ferry left the dock.  It was departing two seconds later than the last ten times he’d watched the same video.
    “She caused a two second variation,” he said.
    “How?”  Johnson asked.
    “Maybe the commotion during the loading.  No way to know,” Patterson said.
    The two men continued watching as the boat sailed out of the visual frame of the security camera.  Workers adjusted the traffic cones and cars began to queue up, preparing for the arrival of the next ferry.  When the stopwatch reached 2:54:38, the camera violently shook, then the image blurred when the lens shattered from the pressure wave of an