Total pages in book: 60
Estimated words: 57237 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 286(@200wpm)___ 229(@250wpm)___ 191(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 57237 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 286(@200wpm)___ 229(@250wpm)___ 191(@300wpm)
I swallowed dryly and tightened my hold on Danny’s hand.
“And here we see—this was just moments ago—how the second plane hits the World Trade Center…”
I scrubbed a hand over my mouth and jaw, and only two words existed in my brain, and they went on a loop.
It’s begun.
I watched once more as a plane flew right into the second tower, at the same time as someone behind us muttered that there was no way this was an accident.
“How many people work in those towers?” someone else asked.
“Thousands—and at this hour? People are already at work,” Reese replied quietly. “You think we have jets scrambling yet?”
I saw James from the corner of my eye. He cleared his throat and opened his mouth to respond, but Sid came into the cafeteria, and judging by the look on his face, he was up-to-date with what was going on.
“Just talked to my guy at the White House,” he said. “The president’s canceled whatever he had planned for the day. I suspect he’ll be in the air soon.”
Jesus fucking Christ. I released a breath and was momentarily distracted by the low murmur of questions and guesses from the men around me.
River was one of them. “What would put any pilot in that area? Which airport is the closest?”
“No pilot belongs in down-fucking-town Manhattan,” James replied grimly. “When you fly into LaGuardia, you get maybe two or three miles out, but…” He shook his head.
“Let’s not pretend we don’t know what this is,” Danny said abruptly. “They’ve fucking warned us for years, and it ain’t the first time the Trade Center was targeted.”
The FBI was mentioned in the breaking news coverage, and everyone piped down again.
“…we don’t know for sure, of course, but the FBI is investigating a possible hijacking of two commercial jets…”
“Ahh,” Danny exhaled and flinched.
Oh fuck. I instantly released his hand. “I’m sorry, baby.”
He shook his head and stepped closer, and his gaze never left the TV.
Frustration and impatience built up rapidly over the next several minutes as the eyewitness reports rained in, while the anchors had absolutely nothing solid to go on. Everyone was speculating, and it was happening on live television. New Yorkers who phoned in spoke of pandemonium and chaos, thousands of people running away from the Towers, and smoke and debris everywhere.
Danny checked his watch, and I saw it was 9:27—
“…with US officials now talking about this as an act of terrorism.”
“You don’t fucking say?” Danny yelled.
I squeezed him to me, a silent hush, and kissed the side of his head.
I felt a pressure on my chest, and I couldn’t stop flicking a glance at the nearest clock on the wall, because it was only a matter of time, wasn’t it? If our operations handlers didn’t announce something over the PA system, then Terrance or TJ would. I mean, were we going to New York? They were going to need help, and most of us had experience in rescue ops, military, and/or first response.
They had to be closing the airspace, if they hadn’t already, and my next question was whether they’d close all of Manhattan.
“Do the higher-ups upstairs know anything yet?” I heard one of the recruits ask.
“They’ll know before the reporters do, and we’ll know when Terrance has enough to go on,” I responded firmly.
“This is so fucked up,” someone mumbled.
The footage changed to cover the attacks again, but I was more focused on Sid. He’d walked away a bit and was currently on the phone, and as if sensing my watching him, he met my gaze.
“They’re shutting down airports,” he stated.
That could only mean one thing. Bloody fucking hell, I wanted to know what was going on in air traffic control. They would know. They did know, and now airports were closing? Yeah, definitely a hijacking.
We were under attack.
I swallowed a bout of queasiness, and I could no longer stand here and do nothing. First things first—I pulled out my phone and sent a message to the only one I figured could tell me something from the Air Force. She was part of the senior leadership at a DC squadron.
Good timing to catch up? Do you have anything for me? Is anyone in the air?
“Shit’s gotta be bad if my man’s sending a text message,” Danny mumbled.
In another time and place, I would’ve laughed.
“Anyone who knows someone, start reaching out for intel,” I ordered, turning around to face the others in the cafeteria. “I don’t care if you were with the Navy, if you know someone in the NYPD, or if you picked up trash at JFK. We gotta collect all the information we can.”
That lit a fire under their asses, and everyone pulled out their phones.
I had one more message to send, to Kane, who was back in London, but he was close to the power. He was working with the ambassador.