Page 97 of Zero Hour

Pat broke into a sprint. “Viper, report!”

“He had a trigger taped to his hand. Security spotted him. We took the shot.”

Pat cut through the crowd, gun at his side. He reached the entrance and saw a dead man sprawled on the pavement, his body twisted unnaturally. Fans veered away, although some kept going, oblivious to the unfolding drama.

A CTD officer in plain clothes crouched over the body, inspecting the trigger.

“It’s not connected!” he called out.

Pat and Viper stepped closer. “Say again?”

“It’s a fake. No detonator. No explosives.”

Pat’s stomach turned to stone. “Are you sure?”

The agent held up a wire, the loose end dangling uselessly. “Yeah. Total dummy.”

Viper’s jaw flexed. “Shit.” He turned to Pat. “It’s a diversion.”

Pat’s mind raced.

So where the hell are the real bombs?

He grabbed his phone, redialed Farrow.

“Commander, confirm. Were the Waheed brothers carrying live explosives?”

A pause.

Then: “Negative. The devices were fake.”

Pat’s pulse roared.

Shit.

“The real attack is happening somewhere else.”

Farrow’s voice dropped. “Where?”

Pat swallowed the bitter taste in his mouth. “That’s the problem. I don’t fucking know.”

His comms crackled again.

“Shots fired. East entrance!”

“Another suspect down,” Phoenix reported. “Fake device.”

Anna’s voice cut in, urgent. “Pat, we’ve got two more men in Wizard’s jerseys carrying rucksacks. CTD agents took them down. Both fakes.”

Every. Single. One.

Pat closed his eyes. Al-Jabiri had played them like fools.

He’d let them think they’d cracked the plot. He’d let them flood the arena with agents, let them focus everything here.

While the real bombs were somewhere else.

Pat’s pulse hammered.

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