The investigation marched forward. The youth soccer tournament was postponed, so they didn't have to worry about that being hit. The Redskins game was ready to cancel if necessary but management was waiting until Saturday morning to decide for sure. The activist march thought the agents were lying in an attempt to curb free speech, and intended to continue the march as scheduled. Tara found another reference to Rydell in Dessen's appointment book, along with a time for a meeting, but still hadn't figured out who that was. And there was an alert on the drug one of the remaining Three Tenors needed for his hypothyroidism, which Bobby and D went to check out immediately.
The delivery boy from the pharmacy who had first caught the red flags (notably, that a "John O'Malloy" was a man clearly from the Middle East) was able to identify which of the Tenors it was, the agents got the address to the house where he'd delivered the medication, and they immediately got a raid prepared.
It was amazing how quickly the necessary approvals for such things could come together when there was a chance half the city would be under bioterrorist attack the next morning.
Armed with plague indicators ("If it turns red, you're standing in it," D helpfully informed them) and filtration masks, as well as their standard tactical gear, the raid team lined up at their respective entrances, prepared to invade from all sides.
Tara listened for the lead of each smaller team to report that their team was in position, and when they were ready, said, "Stand by to execute. Three, two, one, execute."
Battering rams burst through doors, as agents ran into the house from all sides with shouts of, "FBI! WARRANT!" which they repeated each time they burst through a new door. These were interspersed with, "Right side clear!" "Left side clear!"
The only things not to be heard were interactions with any humans who were not part of the raid. Because there weren't any in the house.
Jack and Myles, along with another member of their team, did find something disturbing in the very top of the house, though.
A small room off the finished attic held an area clearly set up for Muslim worship, which they would have no problem with in itself if not for the contents in the center: a newspaper full of ritualistic shavings. The Three Tenors had shaved all their hair off as martyrs do when they know they're about to die.
They were clearly ready to strike.
The entire team, and several others who were qualified to help them, spent all night at the Bureau searching everything they could think of trying to figure out where the terrorists intended to strike. The best they could do at the moment was hope they were right that the march was the target and have that covered to take down unregistered aircraft heading toward it. Still, if the planes got airborne, taking them down in any way would almost certainly release the plague. There would be casualties.
Sunrise found the weary agents still pouring over maps, documents, and whatever else they could find, when Lucy ran to Tara with a flash of inspiration. Tara typed the coordinates into the computer, and it all fit within exactly what they had been thinking. They called everyone over and Tara began explaining.
"A chemical plant that was closed down several years ago because of dioxin poisoning is right next to a middle school which also had to be closed because it was contaminated."
"Oakwood Middle School, I had a friend who went there. Guess what Oakwood's football field was called: Rydell Field!"
"Rydell is a place, not a person," Tara added, more from excitement than a need to clarify since everyone had probably figured that out by then.
"And there's an old bus barn near the field where the planes could be hidden."
"That would explain the contaminated dirt," Jack agreed. "They were transporting the planes from the field."
"What's the distance from the mall?" Sue asked. They had already determined it had to be within three miles, maximum.
"Two-point-four miles," Tara confirmed.
"Hold all calls, I think we have a winner," Myles quipped, and then they were off, as Lucy said, "to thwart terrorists."
They moved out in a hurry, and got everyone in place. It wasn't a 100% smooth operation, with a plane already exiting the barn for takeoff as they arrived, but they got the SUVs in the way and the plane managed to stop without even crashing into them—something Myles surely appreciated, as it would not involve yet more teasing about crashing a car (or corresponding paperwork).
The other two planes were still in the barn, and they got all the men captured and the plague-carrying containers spraying apparatus disabled, all within minutes.
Hiding in their "telephone repair" truck with all the tech equipment, Tara breathed a sigh of relief when she heard Myles say, "Sam 3-1. We're clear." She was always relieved at such things, but somehow, the first thing she thought this time was, "Bobby's safe."
But when she turned to Sue, what she actually said, "We got 'em."
Sue released her own sigh of relief. As always when they were at this point in any mission, she thought, "Thank you, God, for keeping Jack safe. And the rest of the team."
Everyone was glad to get home after that and get a shower, clean clothes, and a good rest, in whichever order they each preferred.
Monday, when everyone returned to work, there were plenty of observations about how ungrateful the people from the march were—calling for disciplinary action against the FBI for trying to "bully and intimidate them into not exercising their free speech," or some such nonsense.
"Well, perhaps to help educate Professor Graham," Bobby offered, "we could arrange a small field trip to that contaminated warehouse. Biohazard gear optional."
"Hey, it's part of the gig," Jack defended. "The better we are at our job, the more the public is unaware of what almost happened."
"Kinda like being an umpire," Sue suggested. "If they notice you, it's because you messed up."
"Exactly!" Jack said.
They smiled at one another a moment, which did not go unnoticed by their colleagues.
"While we're all in such a festive mood," Bobby said, "it dawns on many of us that we never really had a proper reception for our young newlyweds."
Sue and Jack both tried to stifle their groans and put on their best game faces to take what they hoped would be the last of the ribbing about their supposed marriage. Although, if the conversation they needed to have went how either of them hoped it would, and if things could be worked out accordingly for them to somehow remain on the same team, it was entirely possible that they themselves would bring the teasing back on.
"So," Tara was saying, walking toward them while clearly holding something behind her back, "we'd like to take a moment now to make up for our unfortunate and inexcusable oversight."
From behind her she produced a gift bag and an envelope. Holding the gift bag out to its recipient first, she said, "For you, Jack. Your very own travel hairdryer, so the next time you two pose as a married couple, you won't have to borrow Sue's."
He closed his eyes in resignation and then accepted it was as much grace as he could muster.
"And for you," Tara said with a smile, handing the envelope to Sue.
She opened it and pulled out a slip of paper. "A gift certificate to the Belle Image Spa," she read out loud.
"She gets a day at the spa and I get a hairdryer?" Jack objected.
"For you," Bobby argued, "the undercover was undoubtedly a very pleasant gig. For her it was very likely the most wretched assignment she'll ever have." He winked at Sue.
"And for both of you," Lucy said, coming over, "what's a wedding without a photo album?" She handed Sue an album of their prop wedding photos, which she accepted graciously, but pretty immediately handed over to Jack, who seemed much more interested in looking at them. (She might eventually tell him that she'd already perused the album the night before. Lucy hadn't managed to keep that part a secret, although Sue hadn't known about the other gifts.)
Sue was busy reading over the gift certificate to see what was included. "This day spa thing is sounding better all the time," she said. "Are they open right now?"
Tara and Lucy exchanged a glance. "Um, Sue, did you notice the specific package it's for?"
"Yeah, massage, facial—wait." She stopped and read it again. "Are you serious?"
Lucy and Tara both burst out laughing.
"What?" Jack asked, reaching to snatch it from her, but she held it away. Her face turning bright red, she said, "It's for . . . a couple's package."
Jack turned red too.
"Aww, isn't that sweet," Bobby joked, "they do everything together now."
"You can't go right now though," Myles added, "we were just about to do the Chicken Dance!"
Tara started some music and several people did some semblance of the Chicken Dance. Myles grabbed Tara and started dancing her around, though it wasn't long before Bobby managed to "cut in" without it looking too obvious. Lucy looked to Jack and Sue and said, "You may now kiss the bride."
Jack turned back to Sue with wide eyes. They locked eyes for a moment, fear on both faces, before Jack managed to school his features and sign to Sue, They're all crazy.
The whole team laughed and joked about the "reception," about the "couple" being eager to leave, and more, but Lucy did find a moment to say to Sue, "Don't worry, you and I will go together. They call it 'couples' but it just means the two people are doing all the things together, it can be couples or friends or sisters or whatever. I didn't figure you'd really want Jack to see you parading around in a robe."
Sue's mind immediately flashed back to Jack's hand on her hip holding her steady, her robe lightly sticking to her damp skin. To waking up in his arms, her bare legs against his, her head on his bare chest
To a little kiss they'd unintentionally shared before bed.
To a little kiss he'd given her on purpose the next morning.
At her silence, Lucy raised her eyebrows and said, "Or maybe I'm wrong. Maybe you do want to go with Jack instead."
"No," she said to Lucy. "I think you and I going is probably a better idea."
It did not escape Lucy's notice that she never said she didn't want to, only that it wasn't a good idea.