Stone - 25 - Collateral Damage

everybody.” He held up a badge. “We are New York City police officers, and we are going to check the ID of everybody on this car,” he said. “Now sit quietly and keep your hands where we can see them. Get out your ID and be prepared to show it.”
    Jasmine took the wallet from her large purse and removed the New York State driver’s license from it. The cops worked their way down the car, checking IDs, and finally stopped in front of her.
    A detective took the driver’s license from her hand and compared the photo on it with her face. “What’s your address?” he asked.
    “Five-ninety Park Avenue,” she said, reciting the address on the license.
    “Where did you get on the train?”
    “At the last station.”
    “Where were you before that?”
    “At Bloomingdale’s,” she said, holding up her shopping bag.
    He dipped into it and came up with a cashmere scarf and some panty hose. “Handbag?” he said.
    She opened her handbag and held it up to him. He rummaged in it for a moment. Then stepped away. “Thank you for your cooperation,” he said, then moved on to the next passenger.
    Another half an hour passed before the train began to move again. Jasmine picked up a discarded New York Post from the seat beside her and began to read it. She was safe.
    —
    She got off at the specified stop and looked around. A young man lounging against a Toyota sedan stood up straight and looked at her. She walked toward him.
    “Ms. Avery?” he asked.
    “Yes,” she replied.
    He held open the car door for her, and she got in.
    He turned right at the next corner. “We’re going over to the West Side Highway,” he said. The East Side is all screwed up with traffic.”
    “I understand,” she replied.
    The driver made his way across town slowly. “The traffic is always like this,” he said. “Nothing unusual.”
    “Fine.”
    —
    Twenty minutes later, he drove past the safe house slowly, and they both looked for signs of police. He let her off at the next corner and she walked back to the house, careful not to hurry. She went to the basement door and rang the bell.
    The door opened almost immediately, and Habib let her in. “Everything all right?”
    “Perfectly normal. There was one surprise: they stopped the subway train. It must be part of their plan after an attack.”
    “That’s new to us.”
    “The Bloomingdale’s bag was a brilliant idea. It may have saved me from further interrogation.”
    “Thank you. I believe we’re safe in this house, no need to move you again.”
    “I’ll take a day or two off before we begin again,” she said.

Holly was awakened by the flight attendant, who was holding a tray. “Some lunch?”
    “Thank you,” Holly replied. Stone was already eating his.
    “We’ve had several satphone calls,” the attendant said, “but nobody on the line. It may be some equipment or satellite problem. You might check in as soon as we land.”
    “Thank you,” Holly said, and began to eat her sandwich.
    —
    As the Gulfstream touched down, Holly switched on her cell phone: there were three voice messages and a text, all telling her to call the director’s office. The airplane taxied to a halt, and Holly and Stone deplaned and got into the waiting car. While they waited for their luggage to be loaded, Holly called in on the director’s direct line. A moment later she was connected.
    “Hello, Holly, we’ve been trying to reach you.”
    “The satphone on the airplane wasn’t working,” Holly said. “I called back as soon as I could. I’m at Teterboro now.”
    “Bad news. We’ve had a bombing at the East Side station.”
    Holly gulped. “How bad?”
    “Two security people killed, plus the driver of the Lincoln Town Car containing the bomb. He used my name to get the garage door opened. Three people in the street, on foot or in cars, were killed, too, and some damage was done to the front wall of a town house across the street. The New York media are all over us, but our cover story is still holding. We’re saying that the building contained some administrative people.”
    “What was the damage to our building?”
    “The reinforced garage contained it. Lots of vehicle damage, but that has already been cleared away, and the garage is operating normally again.”
    “Any suspects?”
    “Al Qaeda, of course.”
    “Jasmine?”
    “You think she’s in the country?”
    “I think it’s likely,” Holly replied.
    “The FBI has circulated her photograph, but only a