58. Bronwyn

58

brONWYN

I dropped my phone. It fell into the footwell and lay there with the selfie cam still on and my own terrified face staring back at me. I couldn’t reach down to get it, to take another look under my seat. But I knew what I’d seen. I sat there with my breath coming faster and faster, trying to figure out what to do.

At that moment, Radimir emerged from the mansion and jogged towards the car. He headed straight for the driver’s side because he always insisted on driving. He was going to open the door and—“ Don’t open the door!” I screamed frantically. Who knew what the bomb was hooked up to, and now I’d armed it by sitting down... “ Don’t open the door!”

My voice was muffled by the thick glass and at first he thought I was joking, not wanting him to open the door and let the cold air in. He reached the car, put his hand on the door handle?—

Then he saw the fear in my eyes and stopped, his face falling.

“ There’s a bomb! There’s a bomb under my seat!” I took another panic breath, and my stomach suddenly heaved: I was actually going to throw up from fear. “It’s under my seat I don’t know what to do,” I sobbed.

Radimir fell to his knees, his eyes darting around the car, frantic. Then he planted his palm firmly against the glass. I reached up and pressed my hand to his.

“Help me,” I choked. Tears were running down my face.

He nodded hard. “I won’t leave you.” Then he turned and bellowed for Gennadiy.

First, the police showed up, four officers in two cruisers who had no idea what to do except cordon off the area and tell everyone to get back. When they approached Radimir, he turned from me just long enough to snap, “ I’m not moving!” and they backed away.

Next the FBI showed up, alerted by the police. They tried to question everybody, including Radimir, but Mikhail took charge, batting their questions away with the skill of a politician.

Meanwhile, I sat alone in the cold, quiet car, slowly going insane. It’s amazing how hard it is to just sit still . First, my legs started to cramp, and I didn’t dare stretch them because that meant shifting my ass on the seat. Next, my ass started to go numb. And then the fear sent my mind spiraling down into what ifs, like when you’re standing on a cliff edge and you worry you might just involuntarily jump. What if I just got up? It would only take one rogue command from my brain, one quick push with my feet and?—

Radimir pressed closer to the glass. “ Miss Hanford!” he said firmly.

I looked up, panting. He hadn’t called me that in weeks.

“Listen to me,” he ordered. “ I will get you out of this . I promise.”

I jerkily nodded. But my breathing had gone so tight, it felt like there was a metal band wrapped around my chest.

With a wail of sirens, the bomb squad arrived: two cars and a huge black truck. More cordons were set up, arguments broke out between the bomb squad and the FBI and Radimir was told to move again.

“I’m not leaving her,” he snarled.

The chief of the bomb squad, an overweight guy in his fifties, looked at me and his face softened. “You can stay for now,” he said at last. And he waved his team into position.

They didn’t dare open the doors so a hole was drilled through the door and a long, snake-like thing with a camera on the end was threaded through it to look under my seat. “Make sure they’re not looking up my skirt,” I told Radimir, trying to lighten things. But my voice came out as a dry croak and Radimir just looked at me with such deep, heartbreaking worry, that my smile crumbled.

The bomb technicians gathered around a laptop, watching what the camera saw. This might still be nothing. Maybe Radimir dropped something under the seat. Maybe it’s part of the car. God, what if that’s it, what if it’s just part of the heater for the heated car seat and all of this is for nothing, and I feel like a complete idiot.

Please please God let me be a complete idiot.

The chief of the bomb squad came over. “We can see explosives under your seat,” he said gently.

Radimir cursed in Russian. I closed my eyes and counted to three, trying not to throw up. “Can you unwire it—break it—” Jesus I’ve forgotten how to speak. “Defuse it?” I managed at last.

He inhaled, a doctor telling the patient it’s stage four. “We’re not sure how to proceed. We don’t know which of the car’s sensors the bomb’s wired into so we can’t open a door or a window.” He leaned closer. He had a reassuring manner: with his big, wide face and mostly bald head, he reminded me of an earnest little league coach. “But I’ve got a specialist coming in to take a look.”

I nodded weakly and leaned my head back against the headrest, trying to force the panic down inside me. All I could think about was that little red light under my seat, and what it meant. A device primed to kill me, just waiting for one signal. What happens when the battery runs out? What if it shorts? What if there’s someone watching with a remote control and they can just press a button and— I started to huff air through my nostrils, faster and faster?—

“Hey!” said Radimir sharply.

I looked around at him.

“It’s going to be okay.” He pressed his palm harder against the glass. “I’m right here with you.”

I nodded and tried to breathe. The minutes ticked past like centuries. I’d never gone so long without moving. With all the doors and windows closed, the air in the cabin was getting stale. I knew that there were vents but it felt like I was running out. And the walls of the car seemed to be creeping closer and closer, squeezing me into a tiny box. The fear took hold. Oh Jesus Jesus God, I don’t want to die ? —

“Talk to me,” said Radimir. “Tell me about…” —he thought desperately—“books.”

“Books?” I tried to laugh but the fear made it come out kind of hysterical.

“What happened to Kurt the cowboy? Did he get together with Christa?”

I stared. I recognized the names, but they made no sense, coming out of a Russian mobster’s mouth. The book he read to me when I was ill. “You still remember that?!”

He nodded. “I never got to find out what happened.”

My mouth opened and closed a few times. “I never did either. I stopped reading it, after I got well.”

“You didn’t like it?”

“I loved it, but…it wasn’t the same without you reading it.”

There were people listening, police and the bomb squad and his brothers, but he didn’t seem to care. “You hold on,” he told me, “And I’ll read the rest of that book to you.” His eyes...were his eyes glistening? “Any book. I’ll read all the books. Whenever you like.”

I nodded, feeling my own eyes go hot. We sat there staring into each other’s eyes...

“ Hey,” said a female voice right in front of me.

I jerked: but luckily went back into my seat. I panted, blinked...and focused on the woman who was standing in front of the car.

She was about my age, with blonde hair tied in a ponytail. She was wearing a death metal t-shirt, black jeans and a bright orange puffa jacket. And now she was... climbing onto the hood. “ Don’t!” I yelled, panicked, but she ignored me, too focused on balancing.

“Goddammit, Boxley, get off of there!” yelled the chief of the bomb squad. “What if it’s hooked up to the suspension?!”

Radimir and I stared at the two of them, then looked at each other. This is the specialist?!

“It’s not hooked up to the suspension,” mumbled Boxley. “Because that would be stupid. It would make no sense to hook it to the suspension and the seat sensors.” She stood up on the hood and then stepped onto the roof. Oh my God she’s crazy. “I’m going to need an angle grinder.”

“You can’t cut through the roof!” roared the chief, going red in the face. “ Get off of there!”

“The doors and the windows all have sensors, so the car knows if they’re open,” said Boxley calmly. “But the car won’t know if there’s a hole in its roof. I looked at the schematics on my way over. Right here,” —she rapped her knuckles on the roof, over the backseat, “there are no wires at all. Just metal.”

The chief’s face slowly returned to its normal color. He looked at the car, thinking. “Okay,” he muttered. “Okay, you might be onto something.” He turned and yelled. “Someone get me the angle grinder!”

A few moments later, I was hunkered down in my seat, trying not to flinch as the metal blade of an angle grinder sliced open the roof. The noise was terrifying, and sparks kept arcing down into the car. I winced as one of them singed my white jacket. Sorry, Rachel. Radimir was wincing and cursing, too, worried about my safety. The only person who seemed completely relaxed was Boxley.

Boxley finished cutting and suddenly the car was filled with light as she lifted a rectangle of metal away. It was like she’d cut a sunroof over the back seat. The next thing I knew, she’d shed her puffa jacket and was slithering headfirst onto the backseat. She slid between the front seats and then into my footwell, squeezing herself in by my feet. Fortunately, Radimir is much taller than me and the seat was adjusted for him. She didn’t seem afraid at all, despite putting herself within inches of a bomb. The woman was beyond brave.

“Open your legs, please?” she asked. She reminded me of my friend Luna, quiet and studious: she sounded like she should have glasses to push up her nose. I shuffled my feet apart. She clamped a flashlight in her teeth and peered between my ankles. There was silence for a few minutes. “Okay,” she said at last.

“Okay?” I repeated hopefully. She didn’t respond. She rolled onto her back and took a roll of tools from her belt. “Okay...you can defuse it?”

She stared at two screwdrivers as if she was trying to choose between them. Then she looked up and seemed to remember my question. “Yes.”

It was like she wasn’t used to dealing with people at all. I glanced through the window and caught the chief’s eye. He gave me a firm nod, like, I know, I know…but you can trust her. I swallowed and nodded back.

Boxley went to work under my seat. “It’s a good thing you didn’t move,” she muttered. “Or start the car.”

“Oh?” I managed. My heart was racing so fast, I felt woozy.

“You know the sensor that detects when someone’s sitting in the seat but hasn’t fastened their seatbelt yet and it... bong s? The bomb’s wired into that.” She sounded fascinated: the bomb was just a crossword puzzle she had to solve. “But not under the passenger seat, only this one.” She gave a little shrug. “Sometimes, they want to make sure there are two people in the car before the bomb goes off. But this time, they were only worried about killing the driver.”

Outside, Radimir dropped his gaze and stared at the ground. I felt a fist clench tight around my heart. He thinks this is his fault, because the bomb was meant for him. “This isn’t on you!” I told him desperately. But he just shook his head, and I could see the pain and self-hate in his eyes. Boxley looked up at me, worried and confused: did I say something wrong? It was a good job she wasn’t a doctor because she had the worst bedside manner in the world.

“I’m going to defuse it now,” Boxley announced.

A ripple passed through the crowd of people watching. Gennadiy and Valentin looked ill. Mikhail crossed himself. I felt my stomach drop.

The chief put a hand on Radimir’s shoulder. “Sorry, pal. You’re gonna have to move back now.”

“I’m not going,” Radimir told him.

“It’s the rules, buddy, I’m sorry.”

Radimir turned to him. “ I’m not. Leaving. My wife!”

A big, warm swell of emotion overwhelmed me. I didn’t want him to be in danger. I’d have told him to go if I’d thought there was a chance he’d listen. But he wouldn’t. Nathan had left me as soon as it wasn’t smooth sailing, but Radimir would be there, no matter what.

The chief sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “Okay,” he said at last.

Radimir turned back to me...and I caught my breath. It was like the ice in his eyes had suddenly fractured and I could see something inside him I’d never seen before. A different him, younger, vulnerable. “If—” he began, but then he couldn’t get the words out. “I?—”

I put a hand to my mouth, my eyes prickling with tears again. He thinks he’s about to lose me.

“I’m sorry,” he blurted. “I’m sorry I couldn’t—Just get out of this, please, and there won’t be any more secrets.”

It was like he’d forgotten that if I died, he was going to die too: he was crouching right beside the car. Then I realized that wasn’t it. He just didn’t care about himself, only me. I nodded tearfully.

In my peripheral vision, I saw Boxley shuffle forward. I looked down and then couldn’t look away: she had tweezers and wire cutters in her hands and Oh God this was it: one slip, one mistake and all three of us were dead. I swallowed hard.

But it turned out that what she lacked in people skills, Boxley made up for in raw skill. My phone was still down in the footwell with the selfie camera still on, and I could see Boxley’s hands moving, quick and confident as a master pianist’s, tracing circuits to figure out where the power flowed, attaching tiny crocodile clips to terminals to reroute it and, finally, bringing in the wire cutters to snip the wires. She was so confident, so unafraid, like this was just a game, to her.

Every time the blades closed on a wire, I dug my nails into my palms and braced myself against the seat, as if that could make a difference. If she gets it wrong, will I know or will I just be...gone? Will there be a flash of white light? Then the wire cutters would snip through and I’d sag in my seat, a fresh wave of sweat drenching me.

“Last one,” said Boxley calmly.

I couldn’t look. I found Radimir’s eyes and stared right into them. He’ll be the last thing I ever see.

There was a snipping sound.

Nothing happened.

Seconds ticked by. I slowly turned my head and looked down at Boxley. She was meticulously putting her tools back into their tool roll. “Did you do it?” I croaked.

“Mm-hmm,” she said, distracted.

“It’s safe?!”

She blinked at me, then nodded.

I let out a wail of relief and pulled the door release. I tried to climb out of the car but after close to an hour of sitting perfectly still, my legs were completely numb, and they folded under me like paper. It didn’t matter, though, because Radimir was already grabbing me and pulling me into his arms. I distantly heard everyone cheering as we went full-length on the ground, rolling and hugging, and then he was kissing me, over and over, as if checking I was really there. I went limp in his arms as all the tension drained out of me. Then I started kissing him back just as hard as he was kissing me, panting and drunk on the feeling of being alive.

Remembering something, I broke the kiss and turned back towards the car. Boxley was still in the footwell and while everyone else was celebrating, she was just...packing up her tools. I gestured to Radimir to give me a second, crawled over to the car and threw my arms around Boxley, pulling her close. “Thank you!” I croaked. “ Thank you!”

She just knelt there stiffly for a moment. Then I felt her body slowly, cautiously, relax. My heart cracked. Doesn’t anyone ever hug her?

She packed the last of her tools, then climbed past me out of the car. She didn’t join the other police and bomb technicians, just walked off down the drive. The chief was the only person who even acknowledged her. “Great work, Boxley!”

Boxley just nodded. As she reached the street, she turned and glanced back. I saw her look at the people celebrating: at Valentin and Gennadiy; at Mikhail and his dogs, who he’d now let free from the house and who were jumping around us and woofing excitedly; at Radimir as he came up behind me and gently put his hands on my shoulders.

Just for a second, I thought I saw longing in her eyes, like she didn’t want to be so alone.

And then she turned and was gone.

I turned back to Radimir, and he wrapped me up in his arms and squeezed me like he never wanted to let me go. He kissed the top of my head...and then I felt a hot drop of something splash on my scalp, and then another. Radimir squeezed me even tighter, so tight it was almost painful, but I didn’t mind at all because I was hugging him back even harder.

“I love you,” he said in a ragged whisper. “I love you, I love you.”

He held me so tight that there wasn’t room to speak, so I just nodded really hard. And then shivered. The cold was creeping into me and the aftershocks of what had just happened had started to roll through my body, ghosts of alternate realities where I hadn’t heard that click, and had pushed the Start button?—

I was suddenly lifted into the air. My legs went either side of Radimir’s body and I clung to his shoulders as he marched towards the house.

“We still have some questions…” said one of the FBI agents.

“You can ask them tomorrow,” Radimir told him. He stalked indoors, pushing past any agents who got in his way. He didn’t stop until we reached our bedroom. Then he set me down by the bed. “Undress,” he commanded, and went into the bathroom.

“What are you doing?” I asked.

I heard the faucets start. “Running you a bath. You’re going to lie in it and relax.”

I didn’t argue because actually, a steaming hot bath sounded like exactly what my stiff, sweaty, cold body needed. “But what are you going to do?”

He came out of the bathroom and looked me right in the eye. “I’m going to tell you what happened to my family.”