Vanishing Point - Marc Cerasini [74]
She realized the bomb was hidden under the table cloth. Weaving around a knot of women heading for the powder room, Lilly crouched low as if tying her shoe. She attempted to lift the pristine white tablecloth, but it was fastened to the cart. Lilly glanced in the direction of the kitchen, saw the man called Carlos gesturing her forward. She stood and wheeled the cart closer to the podium.
As she circled the main table, Lilly spied the man she and Pamela saw in the elevator earlier in the day. He was obviously a politician because he sat at the VIP table.
Is he the target of an assassination? Am I an accessory to murder? she wondered.
Circling the VIP table, Lilly approached a man standing near the row of flags, a headset in his ear. He was obviously a security man — a bodyguard, or maybe Secret Service.
What will I do if he stops me? Lilly wondered, half-hoping he would. But as she came closer, the man stepped aside to let her pass, and Lilly kept on walking.
She'd almost reached the designated spot when the fire alarm went off, filling the room with noise. Lhe house lights went up, blinding her for a moment. Guests rose, milled about as the alarm bell continued. Lhen Evelyn Ankers raced to the podium and stepped in front of the surprised speaker.
"Yes, that is the fire alarm, ladies and gentlemen. But don't panic," the woman shouted over the rising tide of hysterical voices. "This is probably a false alarm, or a smoke condition. I'm waiting for more information now..."
Lilly looked around, uncertain what to do next.
Finally she left the cart and hurried back to Carlos. She had obeyed the man's command, now she wanted him to take her to Pamela.
But when Lilly reached the kitchen, the man with the flowers, the one person who could lead her to her daughter, was gone...
12THE FOLLOWING TAKES PLACE BETWEEN THE HOURS OF 11 P.M. AND 12 A.M. PACIFIC DAYLIGHT TIME
11:03:51 p.m. PDT
Babylon Hotel and Casino, Las Vegas
Two big men hauled a battered Curtis into the Babylon's security center, slammed him into a chair. Adjusting their ties, the men watched every move, waiting for another chance to manhandle the CTU agent.
Curtis took in his surroundings. The elaborate hotel security center was the equal of CTU's war room, only much smaller. Men in suits were running around, or clustered in knots, their talk animated. Dozens of monitors that should have been displaying feed from security cameras were filled with hissing snow. Something was happening, and it wasn't good. No wonder the security staff was so touchy.
"You have to listen to me," Curtis said through bruised lips. "There are five truck bombs in the garage right now. They're going to go off in a couple of minutes..."
"Shut up," snarled one of the men looming over him. "We don't have time to listen to your bull..."
"Just call the police. Call the bomb squad. If I'm lying they can arrest me."
"You're already busted, asshole," said one of the uniformed guards.
"Listen. Lives are at stake. That's why I set off the fire alarms. The fire department should respond, right? When they get here, let me talk to them..."
Another man approached them, tall and thin in a charcoal suit. He had receding gray hair on a high forehead, a small mouth and dead gray eyes.
"What has this man done?" the gray man asked.
"We found him in the garage. He was armed, setting the fire alarms off," one of the suited men said deferentially.
The gray man nodded. "Then it wasn't the system that triggered the alarms?"
"No, sir. Apparently not."
"Listen," Curtis said. "My name is Manning and I'm an agent for CTU. There are five truck bombs in your garage right now, set to go off. The truck I came in, it also has a bomb in it. I deactivated it, but you can check yourself."
The gray man glanced at one of the guards. "He told us that story on the way up here," the man said. "I sent a couple of guys to check