Free Vanished by Kathryn Mackel Page A

irony-the first
shall be last and the last first.

    It would take a day or so for some cop to backtrack the girl's
pathetic life and come up with a name. They'd be hard-pressed
to come up with a face. The oversized shades and cap took
care of that. Shoulder padding, skin coloring, and a gold tooth
monogrammed with the blocky L ensured that anyone's recollection would be the tooth and little else.
    Yet Jasmine had recognized him. How'd she do that when he
was stripped of his street persona, looking as close to his own
self as he ever did? Perhaps it was an intuitive leap, that psychic
grace he had seen in other victims in the last moment before
their deaths.
    That boy would have to be accounted for, of course. No
telling if the skinny kid actually registered a face when the
little tramp called out his name, but he didn't get where he
was by leaving such things to chance.
    He would hold on to this character for a while, at least
in his mind. The explosion was so fresh that his own name
seemed dangerous, even as a passing thought. And wasn't this
a moment of triumph for Luther, the extent of which had yet to
be revealed?
    Stalled cars were only the first sign. When power finally
was restored, these suckers would discover that anything
with a computer chip had been fried. The geeks at Barcester
Tech would be the first to howl, but wait until Mary Sunshine
tried to use the microwave to heat her tea, the couch potatoes
tried to fire up their plasma screens, or some nurse stuck a
digital thermometer in a kid's ear.
    And what of the Quantas? Time would tell, though the
corporation wouldn't. Mustn't interfere with their stock
offering, of course.
    He would find a way to get those classified reports and see
what the actual damage was. If nothing else, the high-speeds had
been stopped dead. Theoretically, they couldn't crash-nothing
to bump into down in those tunnels. But an electromagnetic pulse the size of a small sunspot would have shaken those
babies enough to put a scare into potential riders.

    Enough to derail-gotta love the pun-the massive Quanta
corporation.
    The United States mourned the three thousand lost in
9/11, but what he and his people admired were the trillions of
dollars blown to bits, the businesses crippled or smashed into
dust. Paper flying over Manhattan, lifetimes of information
spit out like confetti. Yet this country still hadn't grasped the
notion that the greatest act of terrorism would be one that
systematically shredded their economy.
    That truth was buried deep under Barcester. The collateral
damage was nice, but the terror dawning on the faces of these
fools as they realized their world had been rocked was his real
reward. Stripped of cars and cell phones, they wandered in a
daze, waiting for someone to restore order.
    Which was exactly what he was waiting for.
    Order restored meant order that could be blown apart. And
once again, the suckers would never see it coming.

     

chapter eighteen
    APPAS." Logan motioned him close so he could speak
low. "Is there some Homeland Security protocol that
could account for the delayed response?"
    "Maybe they're running some aerosol test, making sure this
mist isn't bioreactive."
    "Not good enough. These people need help, and they need
it now."
    Pappas shrugged his good shoulder. "You pulled rank, Logan.
So you get to decide what we're going to do."
    "If emergency services won't come here, then I'll go drag
them out of their safe little station house."
    "What makes you think you'll have more luck than your
friend Monroe?"
    "Nothing," Logan said. "But I have to try. Do what you can
to help Jamie and Hal until I get back."
    "No flippin' way. You got your job, I got mine. Give me
those keys."
    "Sorry, Agent Pappas. But we need as many trained
personnel on the street as we can get." Maybe Logan was being
hardheaded, but the thought of Pappas alone in the sub didn't
sit well. Not that there was much there. The radio, some