Transparency Charles Royce (phonics reader .TXT) 📖

Shawn hops back up. He jumps for the man’s hand, grabs it. He enters the chopper and sits down next to Mrs. Maddox.

The pilot lifts off, just as another explosion sends a veil of smoke that covers the entire roof deck. The helicopter leans west toward the Hudson.

From Shawn’s viewpoint, he sees each of the South Tower’s bottom floors begin to explode downward from the floors already on fire, gaining speed as giant fireballs force themselves through exterior glass.

Boom! Boom! Boom!

The blasts reach the foundation. Through the open door of the fuselage, Shawn hears a colossal rumbling, the crowd in front of the building screaming. Manholes surrounding the building begin to rupture like popcorn, sending torches into the air. People run like fire ants away from the building, then fall into emerging crevasses in the sidewalk.

Shawn grabs Mrs. Maddox’s hand. They watch in horror as both the North Tower and the Center Tower floors begin to simultaneously detonate in layers, cascading upward in horizontal bars of yellow and orange fire, as if someone were adjusting the volume on a volcanic eruption. The Center Tower continues to explode floor by floor until the roof deck is consumed.

Mrs. Maddox looks away, burying her face in Shawn’s shoulder.

Shawn hears another rumbling, deeper, hungrier than the first. He watches the ground beneath the building crumble, devouring the toppling towers in a giant gulp, spitting mushroom clouds of debris and dust into the air. The sounds—the cries, the roars, the sirens of the police cars surrounding the building—all dissipate in an instant, leaving only the whirring of helicopter blades.

Shawn feels the hand of Mrs. Maddox on his chest. He places his hand on top of hers.

C h a p t e r   7 6

JAMES WEST FEELS a hand on his shoulder, followed by cigarette breath. He winces.

“Sir?” A hooded man snaps his finger in front of West’s face. “Sir, you okay?”

West shakes his head, familiarizes himself with his surroundings. “This is my block.”

“You did it, sir.” The man limps beside him as they walk down the street. “All the evidence is destroyed.”

“What?” Outside his condo building, West sees an FBI agent looking the other direction. West turns back to the hooded man in front of him. “It’s over, Billy.”

Billy Donovan braces to run in the other direction. “Sir, you have my number, right? The burner phone?”

West spews out the digits in monotone. “315-555-3155”

“Call me when you get out.” Billy hobbles into an alley, holding his shoulder.

West approaches the FBI agent, turns around, shows the agent his wrists, which are already in handcuffs.

C h a p t e r   7 7

“WE GOT WEST.” Agent Pillsbury hangs up her phone, continues driving. “And Shawn is safe. So is the vice president. Just reunited with his wife. Shawn says they almost died up there.”

Josh looks at his hands. Tracy’s blood is still on his fingers.

“Freaking West.” Agent Pillsbury glances at Josh. “Now’s the part where we make him pay.”

Josh leans against the window, sees the murky remains of Élan International in the rearview mirror.

C h a p t e r   7 8

SNUGGLING IN THEIR bed the next morning, Shawn and Haylee watch footage of the devastation on their large screen television. A ticker at the bottom reads “2,878 CONFIRMED DEAD, HUNDREDS STILL MISSING.”

“Could’ve been a lot more,” Shawn says. “With the hotel, restaurants, condos, and party, some reports have said close to twenty thousand people were in those towers around seven o’clock.”

“What kind of maniac would plan something of this magnitude?” Haylee asks.

“West.”

Haylee watches footage from a news helicopter filming the building from just off the Hudson River. “I heard earlier that there may be some problems now around the waterfront, something about the foundation. The subway tunnels were completely demolished around Hell’s Kitchen, water coming in everywhere.”

“Jesus,” Shawn says. “I’m dumbfounded I made it home.”

Haylee inches closer to her husband, grabs his bicep.

Shawn smiles, rests his chin on her head.

They watch as Josh is about to be interviewed outside Jenna’s jail.

Shawn turns up the volume.

“Mr. Harrison, some people are calling you a hero,” a person off camera says, shoving a microphone in his face. “What do you have to say about that?”

“I’d say this was an unspeakable, completely avoidable tragedy, and one that the leaders of Élan will answer for. I’m no hero. You want to speak to the real hero? Tracy Heissman. That’s who you need to speak with. But you can’t, because she was killed by the recklessness of James West. Now if you guys will excuse …”

His voice fades off as he walks down inside the jail.

“Damn!” Haylee says.

“That’s a completely different Josh.” Shawn holds a fist up in the air. “Bravo, my friend.”

“Is that a jail he’s in front of?” Haylee asks.

“Yes. He’s going to see Jenna. Finally. He’s supposed to call me afterward.”

C h a p t e r   7 9

JENNA JERKS OPEN the door and enters the visiting area.

Josh rises from his chair, rushes toward her with open arms.

Jenna stops him with an upraised hand, then smiles at the guards. She sits down in the chair across from him.

Josh circles back to his chair. “I’m sorry I haven’t come to see you.”

Fighting back tears, Jenna wipes her face with the tan sleeve of her jailhouse uniform.

“I woke up early this morning, had some peace and quiet time just for myself,” he says. “The FBI had someone stay outside the whole night. They think there could be people still out there who want to hurt me.”

Jenna tries to talk, but ends up looking down again.

“So I just stayed in bed,” Josh says. “But not like before. I wasn’t really anxious. Just, I don’t know. Exhausted? The whole time I was laying there, the only thing I could think was, ‘You gotta see Jenna, you gotta see Jenna.’”

Jenna smiles, nods.

He knows something’s off.

Josh looks at his watch. “Jenna, can we just move past this, get to the part where you forgive me, and we