Chapter 24

Maggie couldn't stop looking around. Kane was acting as if everything was normal, but she saw him scanning the crowds too. With her nerves on edge, Maggie put her hand in her pocket and rubbed her lucky bullet. It might be a strange thing to carry, but it was a bullet given to her after the last Olympics by her hero, the best military sharpshooter in modern day history. He'd told her it would shoot straight to gold. She'd kept it with her at every competition since.

"What's going on, Mags?" Gage asked her as soon as he saw the new addition to her side. The shooting team had closed ranks fast when they saw Kane rush her over to them and hadn't let up since.

"Someone tried to stab me. Hunter is chasing after them. I must have talked to someone who ratted me out," Maggie whispered as her brother quickly began looking for blood. "I'm okay. Whatever this material is, it stopped the blade. Also, remind me to send a gift to Hungary's handball team."

"That's it. You're leaving," Gage grabbed her hand, but Maggie pulled it back. "No. Just wait. Hunter told me he'd tell me if I needed to leave and I promised to do so if that time came. Until then, I want to soak this up. We've worked so hard for this. I won't let anyone take it from me."

Gage looked to Kane for backup, but Kane just shrugged. "I'll let you know when I know more," was all he said as Angola was called out to parade in front of the crowd. The ceremony was starting, but now even Allison was looking nervous.

"Did you notice half of Crusina's team isn't here? Same with Iran and the "neutral" athletes from Russia and Belarus," Allison pointed out. "I sent the information to the number they gave us when I noticed it. But I don't like it."

Kane frowned. Gage frowned. Allison frowned. And suddenly Maggie had a very bad feeling.

A huge man strode forward wearing the outfit belonging to the team from Great Britain. "Lass! I'm excited to finally meet you. I'm Hunter's friend, Grant," he said in an absolutely charming Scottish accent.

"What happened?" Kane asked instantly, not giving Maggie or Gage time to ask any questions. Kane apparently knew this giant of a man with a cocky grin and confident air about him.

"You're needed down that hallway. Third door down. Hurry. I got Miss Bell." Kane took off, but Gage wasn't happy.

"No, I have her. Who are you?" Gage asked.

"Grant. And you're the big brother. I got a gift for you two. Both of you turn and look out over there. Don't move until I tell you."

Maggie turned, but Gage was being stubborn. "Gage, just do it."

Maggie felt Grant move close behind them after her brother turned around. He slung one arm over her shoulder as if they were all looking at something. She felt her jacket being lifted and then the familiar feel of a gun being put in her waistband.

"What the hell?" Gage hissed. "How did you get that in here?"

"Came in a different door. You want to protect her? Now you can. Although, I have a feeling she'll do just fine on her own." Grant gave her a wink and began chatting up everyone around them.

"Did he just give us guns?" Gage whispered to her.

"Yup. I just hope we don't have to use them."

* * *

Dalton had found maps of the tunnels under Rome and handed them to Hunter. Hunter was looking at them as Kane stared over his shoulder. They both wore matching frowns.

"Roman emperor Augustus declared the Curia of Pompey cursed after Caesar's murder," Dalton, clearly a history buff, explained. "Many think it"s newly discovered, but it was actually rediscovered in the 1920s. It was taken over by cats after the second world war. Fashion and history go hand in hand in Rome. The fashion house, Bulgari, funded the restoration. Actually, Bulgari also funded the restoration of the Spanish Steps."

"Fendi funded the refresh of the Trevi fountain and Tod's helped pay for half of the renovations of the Colosseum," Elizabeth added, clearly having heard about this before. "Which is why I didn't feel too bad spending that money when I bought some new purses here."

"I hate to interrupt the history lesson," Hunter said, turning the phone with the map on it around to the group. "But the bombs can't be in the tunnels."

"Why not?" Dalton asked, luckily with no hint of defensiveness but with curiosity. He wasn't going to waste time arguing with Hunter.

"The tunnels are too deep. Even driving a four-thousand-pound ANFO bomb down there wouldn't take down the stadium. It would feel like a small earthquake. That's it. Just a little shake," he explained about the ammonium nitrate fuel oil bombs they were assuming the terrorists were using based on the stolen fertilizer. "Think back to the World Trade Center bombing of 1993. That VBIED," Hunter said of the vehicle-born improvised explosive device, "was in a parking garage and nothing. That garage was a lot closer to the building than these tunnels are. Add in thick stone, tons of dirt, and earthquake-proof new build of the stadium, and it won't touch it."

"Then what would?" Elizabeth asked.

Hunter turned to his brother because his take on this would depend on the direction Hunter would turn his attention. "In your profile of this group, would you say they've been planning this for a long time or they're new and taking advantage of the first international event they can?"

Kane didn't hesitate. "No, this isn't a new group flying by the seat of their pants. This is an organized, multinational group that has figured out a way to work together and utilize all its resources. That takes time and planning. They got their bomb maker out of jail four years ago. They hijacked the bulk of their fertilizer three years ago. They took a year to quietly steal the rest of the fertilizer in small, rural areas across Europe, but never in Italy. Right now, we think their goal is revenge, and what other target would be bigger than this? Tonight, it's not just about the athletes. Almost every country with athletes also has a diplomat in attendance from presidents, to vice presidents, to royalty, to ambassadors. This is a well-thought-out plan with contingencies."

"I know he's the profiler, but that's what our intel says, too," Elizabeth added. "Why?"

"Because that will tell us where the bombs are." Hunter thought about everything he saw in the stadium. He ran through the ticket takers, the security, the merchandise, the bathrooms, the food . . . "The stadium was built specifically for the games," Hunter told them. "If they have been planning this, they could put it all in place during construction when security is lax. No one was doing bomb sweeps then."

"But some of the fertilizer was stolen over the past year," Val pointed out.

"Right, but it would be really obvious to mix up and transport it in during construction, even with lax security. First, you need all of the ammonium nitrate, about two to four thousand pounds per bomb. Then you need diesel fuel to mix it with. That stuff not only smells, but it would weigh down a truck to the point anyone walking by would do a double take. However, if you break it up, say just move some of the fertilizer in a storage container filled with stuff, so it could pass inspection. Then you could bring in the rest mixed in with supplies over the years and then add the fuel later."

"Like when making sure all the emergency generators are filled," Kane said, nodding. "A false wall in the storage containers with a generator located right behind it and no one will think twice about the scheduled fuel delivery."

"Exactly. You could move in more fertilizer that way too. Large containers of onions, T-shirts, or coffee on the top, with fertilizer under it. There will be a storage container with a nearby generator. As the generators were filling up, it would be easy to carry the fuel into the nearest storage container without drawing attention. Only six percent of an ANFO bomb is fuel. That's maybe twenty-five gallons, max."

"I'm kind of annoyed they're that easy to make," Val said with a roll of her eyes. "How do we find them?"

"There are four bombs upstairs. I would bet equally spread out. Look for storage containers and generators. Most importantly, smell. Ask around to see if anyone remembers someone with a strong diesel smell. That stuff doesn't wash out after you mix a bomb. It's in your shoelaces, in your hair, it's memorable," Hunter explained as they rushed down the hallway.

"How about a trigger?" Val asked.

"It'll be a phone or an alarm clock that's on a countdown. We'll know which when we find the bombs, but I'm guessing it's a cell phone that will spark the blasting cap. It essentially strikes the match to light the cast boosters, which is a type of explosive that will then detonate the bomb," Hunter explained.

"We're looking for someone with a cell phone? Gee, that won't be hard," Val said sarcastically.

"Focus on the containers and generators. Then look around them. Whoever is behind this will have eyes on their bombs. Nothing, especially a wandering worker or a random security guard, will get in their way to pull this off. Divide up and start encircling the stadium. Text in your location the second you see something," Hunter ordered.

"What about evacuating?" Elizabeth asked.

Kane shook his head. "The second we try, they'll blow the place. I can guarantee it. But I can get some people out. Want me to find Maggie?"

"I'll fill her and Grant in," Val told them. "I'll see if I can get her to leave. I know Grant will make me go. I don't want to, but he'll make me since I'm pregnant."

"Thanks, Val. Be safe everyone." Hunter reached the door to the holding area and quietly opened it. He and his team slipped out, breaking off in different directions.