Ratio(83)

Still a little groggy from a late shift, she hadn’t processed what was going on. Hadn’t done anything about it when the men had forced their way inside. They had dragged her through to the living room, thrown her on the sofa. Told her to listen. They had said things about her, things nobody should have known. They talked about Sebastian. What they were going to do to him. The one with the missing finger had looked like he was enjoying himself. Kept touching her face, her hair. They had given her instructions, very specific instructions. Then they had left.

Too terrified to call the police, Johnson had done exactly as she was told. Planted the detonator and the canisters throughout the convention center. Nobody had batted an eyelid when she took a few extra breaks here and there. No one even noticed her slip upstairs when the Secret Service rotated shifts. They all figured she was harmless. She was anything but.

And now it was too late to back out. No going back now. Nothing else mattered, only Sebastian. His safety was worth more than her life, more than the lives of the people still in the hotel. She didn’t know why someone wanted them dead, didn’t care. Instinct had taken over, the primal urge to keep her son safe above all else. She held an image of him in her head. His smile, his laugh. His bright blue eyes. If she spent the rest of her life in jail, none of it mattered. It was all worth it to keep him safe.

She took a deep breath and steadied herself. Holding the device in both hands, she climbed down off the table. Laid it out on the wood, keypad facing her. Unlocked her phone, found the code the men had given her. Started punching in the numbers.

Forgive me.

The keypad chimed silently as she entered the digits. Eight, five, three, two, one, one, zero. The same code would deactivate it. She stared down at the keypad, her stomach turning inside out. All she had to do was hit the send button, and it was all over.

She lifted the device, her finger hovering over the key.

God, forgive me.

A rattling noise came from behind her and Johnson whipped around, almost dropping the detonator. The door crashed open, shattering the jamb just near the lock. Splinters of wood flew into the air, tumbling onto the carpet. Two figures stood in the doorway, silhouetted by the harsh fluorescent lights in the corridor behind them. Johnson flinched as one of them stepped forward, holding a gun in both hands.

“Don’t move, Patricia,” a female voice said.

Johnson squinted, her eyes adjusting. “Harper?”

“Put the detonator down, Patricia, or, so help me God I’ll put a bullet in you.”

“What are you doing here?” Johnson couldn’t think straight.

The other figured stepped into the room. “You need to do as she says.”

“Leopold?” She felt her legs start to shake. Don’t blow this now. Too much at stake.

“I won’t ask you again, Patricia,” Harper said.

“You don’t understand,” Johnson said, barely able to form the words. “I have to do this. My son…”

“I should have listened to you,” Leopold said. “In the bar that night. I should have known something was wrong. God, you probably even wanted me to figure it out, but I was too damn stupid to see what was right in front of me.” He hesitated for a moment. “They’ve threatened you and your son.”

Harper nodded, her thumb still resting over the send key.

“You don’t need to be scared,” Leopold continued. “We’ve found the people responsible. The danger is over. We’ll make sure your son is safe. We’ll keep you both safe.” He looked over at Harper.

The special agent nodded, lowering her gun a little. “We can protect you, Patricia. But I can’t do anything for you if you activate that detonator. People will die. Us included. The hotel is on the same system; everyone next door will die too. You want that?”

“Sebastian is all that matters.” She gripped the keypad tighter. You can do this. Just push the button.

“Sebastian is your son’s name?” Leopold said. “Where is he today?”

“With a friend of mine.”

“Give us an address, we can send a car to pick him up,” Harper said. “You can be with him as soon as we get out of here. Nobody has to get hurt. We can protect you, give you new identities.”

“You’re lying.”

“Look at my face, Patricia,” Harper said, her eyes boring a hole into Johnson’s skull. She held the gun in one hand now, steady as a rock. “Do I look like I’m bullshitting you? We can make you disappear. Nobody will ever find you, if you don’t want to be found. Look in my eyes and tell me I’m lying.”

Johnson tried to hold her stare.