The other three bombers.
“We were told to walk to the stage and that we’d be okay.” The woman tried to stand again but collapsed back to the ground. “She promised we’d be okay. Then Jake…”
“Connect me to the FBI,” Hennigan said.
Her ear was met by screaming and yelling. “Agent Murphy, are you there?”
“This isn’t the time,” Murphy screamed. “I’m a little busy.”
“You need to heed my words and listen now. This is a distraction. I repeat, this is a distraction.”
More noise came over the speaker from Murphy’s side.
“Is that you on the field talking to the bomber?” Murphy asked.
“Yes. Her name is Martha Thompson. Her husband Jake and her teenage boys James and William were carjacked two hours ago. They were forced to wear the suicide vests. They’re being remotely detonated from somewhere.”
“Why hasn’t hers gone off?” Murphy asked.
Because I’m being lured in, Hennigan thought.
She looked up. Richardson was still getting into position, but Denzili was coming in from behind the woman.
“No,” she yelled. “Fall back.”
A flash of brilliant white and yellow light filled Hennigan’s eyes as her body flew. She instinctively braced herself and readied her body for impact. Even as she was propelled through the air, Hennigan’s mind raced to grasp the reality of the misstep she had just taken. Her cheek hit the grass with a crunch as she landed, and her body rebounded off the Capitol lawn.
Dazed and disoriented, Hennigan turned her head. She struggled to push herself from the ground. Her shaky body felt like a marionette with its strings severed. Every movement was a battle against vertigo that threatened to pull her back into the abyss of confusion. Suddenly, she felt arms under her. She was being lifted, floating above the ground. Her eyes fluttered open, but all she could see was the ground rushing by. She tried to focus.Feet running.Being carried.Over someone’s shoulders? The thoughts flooded her mind in a whirl as she tried to make sense of the situation.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Blayne
Saying Blayne was royally furious would be the understatement of the year. He couldn’t believe his friends would betray him like that. He needed to run to Ethan, find and protect him. But his friends were more worried about his safety than his needs. There was a part of Blayne who knew his friends were right, but it didn’t make him feel any better.
“We need to move Chesapeake, Cumberland and Anacostia’s children,” a Secret Service agent whispered into his cuff. “Have you secured Anacostia and Delta?” There was a pause in the conversation. Blayne wished he could hear what was happening in the agent’s earbud. “Is Delta in PEOC?” Another pause. “Good, keep her there.”
The agent saw Blayne staring at him, so he walked farther to keep his conversation private.
“What are you hearing?” Blayne asked, turning to Mr. S.
“There’s a lot happening.” Mr. S. raised his hand, signaling Blayne to wait a moment. “Three bombers and three gunmen are down. They’re still looking for a fourth bomber in the crowd,” Mr. S. whispered. A somber veil draped his features as his posture slumped slightly and his usually steady frame faltered.
“What’s wrong?” Blayne asked.
“Ms. Z. is down… The second bomber… Dear God.”
“What about everyone else?”
Blayne was on the verge of snapping when Mr. S. raised a finger, signaling him to remain silent momentarily.
“The band is okay. They’re being brought here now. Ms. A. is carrying Ethan.”
“But you said—”
“He’s alive. Not responsive, but breathing.”
A fourth deafening blast was heard and felt in the tent.
