Chapter 156 Race Against Time

Chapter 156 Race Against Time
Amelia POV

The moment Joker went limp, I grabbed my phone and dialed Jason.

"Jason, talk to me."

"Hey, I've got FSOD personnel evacuating the shopping center now. We found the bomb. It's sophisticated, but I've handled worse. Give me another ten minutes and—"

"Don't touch that bomb!" The words tore from my throat with such force that my vocal cords burned. "Jason, listen to me very carefully. Do not attempt to disarm it. Joker just told me it has anti-tampering measures. Any attempt to disarm will trigger immediate detonation."

Silence stretched across the line for three heartbeats. Then: "Are you certain about this intel?"

"Joker's dying words. He seemed pretty confident about—"

A harsh electronic screech erupted from the dead man's clothing, drowning out everything else. The sound was like nails on a chalkboard amplified through a megaphone. I yanked the phone away from my ear, but the interference was coming through the line as well.

"Jason? Jason, can you hear me?" I shouted over the electromagnetic chaos.

Nothing but static.

The electronic assault lasted another fifteen seconds before cutting off abruptly, leaving an ominous silence. I tried calling back—straight to voicemail. Sebastian's line was the same. Maria wasn't answering.

My hands were already moving before conscious thought caught up. I grabbed Joker's legs and dragged his corpse toward my backup vehicle. I popped the trunk and unceremoniously dumped him inside. There would be time for a proper examination later—assuming Jason survived the next hour.

I drove back toward the police perimeter at the highway interchange. The same officer who had waved me through earlier approached my window.

"Officer," I called out as I slowed. "When you sweep this area, look for any abandoned weapons, electronics, or chemical containers. The suspect may have left additional surprises."

He nodded grimly. "Yes, ma'am. We'll be thorough."

I gunned the engine and headed toward the city center. The drive should have taken twenty minutes. I made it in twelve.

At the perimeter, FSOD agents and local police were coordinating civilian evacuations in organized waves. I flashed my temporary federal credentials at the checkpoint and pushed through the inner cordon.

Sebastian and Maria stood beside an FSOD mobile command unit, their faces grim as they coordinated with multiple agencies through headsets and tablets.

"Where's Jason?" I demanded as I approached.

Maria avoided my eyes for a moment before answering. "He took the bomb and left. Wouldn't let me go with him."

Sebastian stepped forward, his voice clinical. "The device has anti-tampering mechanisms built in. Any attempt at disarmament triggers immediate detonation. Plus, it's on a countdown timer—we've got maybe thirty minutes before it goes off. Jason had to get it away from the populated area."

Relief flooded through me first—thank God Jason hadn't tried to disarm it blindly. But that relief quickly twisted into something colder as the implications hit. Countdown timer. Thirty minutes.

"Jason's handled situations like this before," Sebastian said, reading my expression. "He's got more crisis management experience than anyone in the department. He knows what he's doing."

I turned away from him, my face set in stone. I pulled out my phone and dialed Alex's number. He answered on the first ring.

"Surgeon speaking."

"Alex, I need you to prep for emergency trauma surgery. Blast injuries, possible internal bleeding, potential respiratory damage from smoke inhalation."

"What's the situation?"

"Someone is about to be at ground zero of an explosion. Have everything ready first."

Sebastian looked up from his communications array. "Hey, nothing's happening yet."

I turned to face him, and whatever he saw in my expression made him take a step back. "Prevention is the cornerstone of effective medical intervention," I said. "As long as his brain remains intact, I can piece together the rest of him."

"You sound like you're planning his autopsy already," Sebastian muttered. "Look, I get that you're worried, but Jason's just doing his job. When this is over—"

"When he's off duty," I interrupted, "we'll discuss his decision-making process at length. Right now, I'm not interfering with federal operations."

The unspoken threat hung in the air like smoke. Sebastian was smart enough to recognize the distinction between my professional restraint and my personal intentions.

His encrypted communicator crackled to life. "Command, this is Transport Seven. Package is en route to designated safe zone. ETA fifteen minutes."

Sebastian's fingers flew over his tablet, accessing real-time feeds. "He's heading to the abandoned military installation outside the city limits. It's been decommissioned since the nineties."

"Why not use a controlled detonation chamber?" I asked.

"This device is too large and too volatile. Standard containment protocols wouldn't be effective. The military site has reinforced bunkers and a minimal civilian exposure radius."

I was already moving toward my vehicle. "I'm going to collect Alex and a medical team. We'll take their helicopter and position for immediate extraction."

"Amelia," Maria called after me. "What do you want me to do?"

I paused at the driver's door. "You're coming with me. There's a body in my trunk. Take it to IBRA and have them put it in cold storage. I'll need it for analysis later."

Maria's eyebrows shot up. "Seriously? We're doing the whole necrophilia thing now?"

"It's forensic pathology, not necrophilia. Though I appreciate your consistent ability to make everything sound perverted."

The drive to IBRA took eight minutes. I found Alex in the research wing, already assembling a trauma kit based on my earlier call.

"How bad?" he asked without looking up from his medical preparations.

"Potentially catastrophic. We need a full surgical team and emergency transport capability."

Alex nodded to a group of technicians who began loading equipment onto mobile stretchers. "I've got my best people. The helicopter's fueled and ready."

We moved toward the roof access. I wanted to pilot the aircraft myself—I had more experience with high-stress aerial maneuvers—but the medical team refused to fly with a non-certified pilot.

Finally, I strapped into the passenger seat next to the pilot, scanning the horizon as we lifted off.

"ETA?" I asked the pilot through the headset.

"Four minutes at current speed."

Too slow. But physics was physics, and even Round Table resources couldn't override the laws of aerodynamics.

As we approached the military site, I could see plumes of dust rising from the access roads where Jason's convoy had entered. The facility consisted of several concrete structures surrounded by high fences and scattered debris from decades of neglect.

"There," Alex pointed through the window. "I can see vehicles positioned near the main bunker complex."

The pilot was bringing us into a hover pattern when the world turned white.

The explosion erupted from the central bunker like a miniature sun, an expanding sphere of destruction that consumed concrete and steel and everything in its path. The shockwave hit our helicopter three seconds later, rocking us violently despite our distance.

Through the smoke and debris, I could see the bunker complex collapsing in on itself, massive concrete slabs tumbling like children's blocks. Where Jason's convoy had been positioned, there was now only a crater and spreading fires.