Page 65 of High Treason
“Get on back to the house,” Kord said. “If a bomb’s here, you’ll be blown with it. Don’t think you’d do well as vegetable soup.” He lifted produce from a box, listening and looking.
Ali did the same. “My loyalty is to the amir.” He snorted. “Here it is. Five minutes and counting. Have you ever disarmed a bomb?”
“Only a trip-wired device in your neck of the woods. Anything else is ... Monica. She can do it.”
Ali tore across the grounds to the house, his phone in hand. Kord called her. Didn’t matter who got to her first.
When she answered, he said, “Bomb on west side of grounds.” He pressed End and dropped the phone on the grass.
Staring at the bomb, he noted, in addition to the timer, a cell phone was attached and could also serve as a trigger for the explosive device. Anyone with that phone’s number could initiate a remote detonation at any moment.
The sophistication of the bomb was a long way from a wire across a dirt road in a third-world country. Seconds ticked away as he kept one eye on the timer and the other on the rear of the house, as if his concentration could hurry her or delay the driver from remotely triggering the explosive.
Monica raced toward him.
Three minutes, eleven seconds.
Not sure how those short legs pumped her body so fast. Ali hurried behind her carrying what looked like a small tool belt. Smart man. She’d need it. Once she was beside Kord, she knelt with her focus on the device. “The last time I did this was in the downtown underground tunnels,” she whispered, not once looking his way. “Then I had a coverage suit, Kevlar vest, a mask, and a pair of Nomex gloves. But I can work without them. First off, I need wire clippers before some jerk detonates this baby.”
Ali handed her the tool.
Kord didn’t respond. From experience, he understood she needed to concentrate on each step, and talking must put her in the right zone.
Two minutes, forty-seven seconds.
In the distance, sirens grew closer. His phone vibrated.
“Answer it, Kord,” she said with the voice of an angel. “I have this.”
“It can wait.”
“Unless you’re praying, you aren’t a help.”
One minute, fifty-one seconds. He turned his phone off.
She explored the device.
One minute, eleven seconds.
If her God was watching, they all could use the help.
Fifty-eight seconds.
Monica peered at the wires and clipped. “Not yet,” she said. “There’s another wire.”
Twenty-three seconds.
“Where are you?” She smiled and clipped a second wire. “We’re good.”
Seven seconds remaining.
MONICA PICKED UPa box of veggies and walked toward an FBI SUV. The agents would transfer the food to a lab for testing. Perspiration beaded her face while adrenaline continued to flow. Inside, she trembled like a leaf blown by the wind.
Thank You. Every inch of me shivered. You know I’d never seen that type of bomb before.
“You can have my back anytime.” Kord attempted to take the box from her arms.
She hadn’t noted him approaching her. Where were her operative skills? “I still have this. You’re bleeding, by the way, and I’m not a nurse.”
