A/N. Please don't get too mad at me as I've had to leave Mac for a short while to allow the others to catch some of the bad guys but he'll be back shortly I promise ... thanks once again to my faithful reviewers without whom writing would be so much more difficult. Bless you!
.
...
Chapter 9 – The Cell
They had commandeered a restaurant one block away from the abandoned bakery. Don Flack stood behind a table with a finger pointed at the blue-prints. Frank Mitford stood on one side and Elias Pope, team leader of the SWAT team stood on his other. All three men were armed and wearing bullet-proof vests. "Okay listen up people." There was a general shuffling as the dozen members of the SWAT team readied themselves. "According to our information, this is an eight-man cell." Don paused as he pointed to a board behind him where seven photographs and a drawing were pinned in the form of a pyramid, the top of the pyramid being the only accurate representation of the man known as the Corsican now going by the name of Marcello Antonetti. "Surveillance indicates that these two have left to get groceries." Don pointed to two faces at the bottom of the pyramid. "We need to hit them hard as soon as they return. It is essential that we prevent them from getting to and arming the bombs." There was a general muttering as Don held up a small blue box and pulled out a what to all intents and purposes looked like an elegant glass bottle with a solid blue base. "It arms like this." Don twisted the base gently. "The slightest knock and … boom!" Several men grimaced.
"Don't worry boys – it's a mock-up," laughed Elias Pope before faking a worried expression. "Er... that is a mock-up isn't it Don?"
Don hesitated and looked at at Elias. Suddenly he banged the bottle against his hand. "Yup looks like it." He couldn't help but grin as several of the tough guys from the SWAT team flinched and uttered a few ripe swearwords maligning Don's parentage. Frank Mitford guffawed. "Anyway, it looks like our guys are living up on the second floor and using the ground floor as work space. You know your positions. It's simple. We take down the suspects, leave the perfume to the Bomb Squad."
"They'll enjoy that," commented one of the team faking an effeminate voice causing the others to laugh. Not two hundred yards away Sheldon Hawkes was briefing the ten man bomb squad using a similar mock-up bottle.
"Our estimate is that each box holds two hundred and fifty-six bottles and there were four boxes in the crate making a total of one thousand and twenty-four." A quiet ripple of dismayed murmurs spread through the group at the number of potential devices. "Now from the information we have received the structure is like this." Sheldon twisted a screen to face them. A sectioned three dimensional model slowly rotated across the screen. "The RDX is held in the upper chamber, the primer in the base." Sheldon pointed to the different elements as he explained. "The whole is surrounded by an outer casing containing genuine perfume so if a bottle was tested it would look and smell like the real thing."
"Do we know what the primer is?" asked one member.
Sheldon looked doubtful. "No it could well be a nitroglycerine derivative, the action of twisting the base mixes the component parts rendering it unstable. We believe that the cell are in the process of adding the primers to a certain number of the bottles and repackaging them. SWAT are going in to take out the cell, the rest is up to you." Sheldon glanced at his watch as the members of the bomb squad studied the mock-up and the chemical composition of the explosives that Mac had sent through from Amir Benrisi's computer. He wondered how the others were getting on.
.
"CSI:NY – CSI:NY – CSI:NY"
.
Danny and Lindsay Messer pushed open the doors to the executive suite of Atlas Industries immediately scanning the layout of the offices. An area of open-space with a dozen office workers was visible behind a glass wall to their left and a row of three polished wooden doors all of which were closed stood to their right. Ahead of them was a curved wooden welcome desk fronted with Atlas Defence Industries engraved in perspex. The young fair-haired woman behind the desk had a fixed smile on her face but her eyes registered surprise and a little something else. Nancy looked up aghast to see the two detectives followed by four armed officers enter the foyer and approach her desk. "Can I help you?" she stammered.
"Ambrose Atlas, where is he?" demanded Danny.
"Er … Mr Atlas is not here ..." Nancy involuntarily looked to the right and following her gaze, Danny immediately headed towards the first of the polished wooden doors, his hand on his gun. "You can't go in there … not without a warrant..." Nancy broke off as Lindsay slapped a warrant on the desk in front of her. Noting the commotion one or two people raised their heads from behind their partitions in the open space. Two of the armed officers moved towards them checking for faces. Everyone froze.
As Danny opened the door to Ambrose Atlas' office a slight movement to his right caught his attention. He glimpsed four long white finger-tips quietly close a door at the far side of the office. "NYPD. Hold it right there." Danny crossed the room in seconds and yanked at the door only to find it locked. "Dammit! Lindsay he's gone next door."
Lindsay rushed to the second door but it was locked as was the third. "Keys, she demanded. Nancy fumbled in her desk. "Is there another exit?" Nancy nodded.
"End of the hall," she stammered as she held out the keys. Danny swore under his breath and took off out of the main doors followed by two of the officers.
Lindsay grabbed the keys from her and rushed to the doors. "Who was in there? What's his name?"
"Angel." At the look of shock on Lindsay's face, Nancy swallowed heavily and added. "I think his real name is Angelo Barcotti but everyone calls him Angel. He's Mr Atlas' personal assistant."
"Personal assistant, my ass!" Lindsay flung the door open and rushed across the office to the far door. As she did so she looked down into the street. A dark robed figure was dodging a cab as he dashed for the other side of the street, his almost white hair flying out behind him. Lindsay grabbed her radio. "Danny?" The radio crackled as Danny acknowledged. "He's headed across the street towards the subway. Come on..." she added indicating to the two officers to follow her.
Nancy blinked as they rushed out leaving her standing in the middle of the foyer. Slowly she looked down at the warrant in her hands. A tiny smile tugged at the edge of her lips as she read the name and the charges printed there. She made her way back to her desk and unlocked the special wooden box. She pulled out a gold-wrapped foil packet. Pushing wide the door to the open space, a dozen faces looked back at her questioningly. She waved the packet in the air. "So who wants coffee?"
.
"CSI:NY – CSI:NY – CSI:NY"
.
Danny's feet pounded the side-walk as he dodged around the late afternoon shoppers. People heading towards him separated like the parting of the sea as he and the two accompanying officers plunged towards them. Danny spied a head of long white hair disappearing down the steps to the subway and he swore to himself. Chasing suspects down subways always brought back bad memories. He steeled himself as he headed down after his suspect. His radio crackled as he heard Lindsay giving a description of their suspect. Danny jumped the turnstiles and headed towards the platform. A train had just pulled in and he jumped into the nearest carriage as the two officers continued their pursuit along the platform. Angel turned noticing his pursuers. He jumped into the next carriage as the buzzer sounded and the doors closed. The train pulled out.
Danny made his way slowly up the carriage. Commuters moved away from him as though he had the plague, his vest, his badge and the gun in his hands making them look nervously around the carriage wondering who he was hunting. Danny hid himself to one side of the window and risked a look into the next carriage. He saw a sea of heads turned away from him as the occupants of the next carriage stared at the exceptionally tall pale man with long white hair dressed entirely in black standing by the door. Danny pulled out his phone. "Lindsay? Yeah I've got eyes on our guy. He's heading north." The carriage rocked and Danny dodged back as Angel turned to look in his direction. The train began to slow and Danny risked another peek. "I think he's going to get off at thirty-fourth. He's closest to the Penn Station exit."
Lindsay leaned forward to the officer in front. "Thirty fourth. Penn Station exit." The driver nodded and swung a right and then immediately left. With the siren blaring he pulled up to the subway sign and Lindsay and an officer piled out. "Try to cut him off." Lindsay plunged down the steps and dodged around a woman with a push-chair. Normally she would have stopped to help but Lindsay's mind was on only one thing. A tall individual by the name of Angelo. She flew down the steps and climbed the turnstiles. A sea of people headed up the escalators towards her as she took the stairs downward. A head of white hair appeared at the bottom of the stairs. Lindsay ground to a halt, equalized her stance and raised her gun. "NYPD, hold it right there." Angelo looked up at her as the crowd on the escalator ducked down fearing a fire-fight. Angel panicked and turned around but froze and slowly raised his hands.
"On your knees," came a familiar voice. Lindsay made her way slowly down the stairs as Angelo dropped to his knees with his back to her. As she neared the bottom Danny's grinning face came into view. "Hey babe! Nice timing!"
Lindsay holstered her gun and whipped out a set of cuffs. "Shall I?" she asked politely.
"Oh be my guest." Danny gestured with the tip of his gun. As soon as they had cuffed him and searched him they walked their charge back up to the surface and the waiting squad car. People stared at the incongruous trio, the tall white-haired individual being helped into the back of the car by a smiling young couple.
.
"CSI:NY – CSI:NY – CSI:NY"
.
Jo Danville smiled at the young man as he removed the 'Do Not Disturb' sign and slid the card into the slot. He stepped back and gestured politely for the women to enter.
"Wait here please." The young man smiled at Stella until he saw her and her companion move their hands over their guns. He gulped and moved away from the door just in case.
The room was a mess.
"Well she certainly likes to live it up." Jo nodded to the hostess trolley with the empty bottle of champagne and remnants of what looked like a Chateaubriand.
"Yes she does but where the hell is she?" Stella ducked into the bathroom. "Nothing. Looks like she cleared out in a hurry."
Jo nodded as she surveyed the empty drawers and the open cupboards. She went back out. "Does the hotel have surveillance cameras?" The young man nodded. "Good we'll need to see them."
A few minutes later Jo and Stella stood by a row of screens in a small room at the back of the five star hotel. Their eyes flicked from screen to screen searching for a familiar figure. "Okay hold it there." Stella pointed to the left most screen. The security manager of the hotel enlarged the image and rewound the tape a little before pressing play. "It's her." On the black and white screen Elsa Rossi dashed out of the side-door of the hotel dragging a suitcase and into a waiting car. "Can you zoom in on the licence plate?"
Jo repeated the licence plate as she clamped her cell phone to her ear. "It's registered to Atlas Industries," she whispered to Stella. "Adam, it left the side door of the hotel at two fifteen. See if you can find out where they went. Call me back. Okay thanks."
The two women left the hotel. Jo sighed in frustration as she looked at Stella who was quietly furious that Elsa has escaped. "Let's hope the others are having more success."