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“And we’re live in five… four… three… two…”
The lights adjusted, and Isobel Castille sat up as the red light on the camera pointed directly at her.
“Good evening,” the news anchor, a man named Sterling, sat beside her as the news cast began.
Isobel just sat there, hoping that the plan would work, and the ADIC wouldn’t end up passing the buck down the line and placing the blame for this on her if his idea blew up in their face.
“Breaking news tonight,” the anchor continued, “The FBI has issued a city-wide alert regarding the suspects in the Midtown arson attacks. Joining us live is Special Agent in Charge of the New York field office, Isobel Castille.”
Isobel stared into the lens, imagining the millions watching her on screens across New York.
Any one of them could be next. Hell, they could be victims now without even knowing.
“Thank you, Sterling,” she said, keeping her voice steady, “The FBI is asking for the public’s assistance in locating the suspects believed to be responsible for the Midtown arson attacks, as well as the failed arson attack in Queens. You will see on your screen now five assailants that the FBI has managed to identify. If you know these people, or you see them, do not engage, and instead call the FBI tipline or 911.”
“Agent Castille, thank you for the information. Before I let you go,” Sterling said, leaning in, “I’ve sources that say the Bureau missed a credible threat prior to the Midtown attack. Can you comment?”
Wow. Very classy, Sterling. Class indeed.
“Our priority right now is safety, not speculation. We’re working around the clock to -”
Isobel never did get to reassure the public that they were indeed working around the clock.
The microphones whined, and everyone in the studio pulled out their in-ears just as a wave of pressure rolled through, heat and debris following almost immediately.
Isobel barely had time to realise what was going on, let alone move.
And so, when the explosion reached them and ripped through the studio, she could do nothing as the force of the blast lifted her from her chair and threw her against the greenscreen, lights crashing down.
The “On Air” sign flickered once, then died.
The JOC staff, all gathered around the monitor, watched as the broadcast cut to static, and turned to the windows, watching the smoke billow from the studio, which was visible to the naked eye from 26 Fed.
*
Isobel woke up coughing to the screams of pain from two – or perhaps three – people.
Smoke was hindering her vision, and every weak inhale was causing her ribs to scream in protest. She was lying on her side, half-buried under a piece of rigging that had somehow managed to not pin her down.
You need to get up, Isobel. Up. People need your help.
She attempted to heed her own words, trying to slide underneath the rigging, but her left arm gave out almost immediately, sending a jagged bolt of pain shooting up her shoulder.
She wouldn’t be able to help others if she couldn’t even help herself.
“Isobel!” Someone yelled out, but it was muffled.
Isobel expected not to be able to hear clearly after what had happened; that part didn’t panic her.
“Isobel!”
“Here!” she thought she yelled out, but she honestly couldn’t be quite sure. The smoke had dissipated a bit, but every breath was still a battle.
A beam of light cut through the smoke, stopping when it cast its glow over her.
“I got her!”
Isobel squinted her eyes, trying to identify the blob approaching her, only recognising Special Agent Bell when she was face-to-face with her.
“Isobel, can you hear me?”
“Yeah… just… You sound underwater,” she pointed out, wincing when she accidentally put pressure on her left arm, “Where’s Sterling? The camera crew?”
Maggie’s face fell, and Isobel didn’t need a verbal answer to her question.
“OA is looking to see if we can help anyone else, and FDNY is on the way. I need to move you. Can you move?”
“My arm,” Isobel gritted, “I think… It’s dislocated.”
“Okay, okay, um… OA!” Maggie yelled, the two of them rapidly exchanging words, before they turned back towards her, managing to shift the rigging and help Isobel get to her feet.
“What happened?” she asked.
“OA and I were downstairs grabbing coffee when the explosion happened. We’re letting the bomb squad deal with it. Bottom floors have been evacuated. I’m thinking our arsonists are getting bolder,” Maggie spoke to Isobel as they moved away from what was the studio and towards the stairs, letting Isobel use her as a human crutch whilst OA exited on the floor just below, staying behind to see if there were others that could still be helped.
They eventually got to the ground floor, Maggie pushing through the door just as the sprinkler system hissed, dirty water raining down on them, trying to stifle out a fire – must have definitely been an independent event, no way the explosion was the cause of this fire, five floors down.
They trudged through, Isobel struggling more to maintain her balance, Maggie questioning whether it would be appropriate to heave her boss over her shoulder for the final couple of metres, when backup finally arrived, and Maggie was able to ease Isobel onto a stretcher, ignoring any arguments from the woman that she was fine.
“I need some help over here!” OA rushed out of the building too, the young brunette in his hands too quickly placed on a gurney and wheeled away.
“OA, I’m going to travel with Isobel,” she announced, hopping into the ambo, one hand of hers trapped by Isobel’s good hand, who was finding comfort in gripping her subordinate’s hand, the other fiddling with her phone, trying to reach Jubal.
“Jubal, Isobel’s alive. She’s okay. I’m staying with her. OA’s ranking agent on the site,” she relayed, hearing Jubal breathe a sigh of relief.
Only that relief was temporary. They’d just tried to kill the SAC. Another attack was no doubt imminent.
New York would not be sleeping until their suspects were caught.