"Are you okay?" Alexis asked anxiously as she rushed forward, trying to see if Jack was injured. Although the area was shrouded in dust, she could still make out small bricks and debris that had fallen on his back.
"I'm fine," Jack replied, shaking his head and lowering the two people he had rescued. He wouldn't push himself into any overly dangerous situations—just doing what he could with his superhuman strength.
A few firefighters and EMTs who had been outside and avoided the worst rushed forward, immediately beginning treatment on their unconscious captain and the resident Jack had saved.
Jack brushed off his now-tattered suit, feeling a pang of regret. It was a high-end Italian suit, chosen by Hannah the first time he'd come to New York last year. Unlike British suits, which were more relaxed, this one had a closer, tighter fit. Made from lightweight silk and linen, it now looked like it had been through a shredder. Of course, even a loose-fitting American-style suit wouldn't have survived the day's chaos of rolling and diving.
Everyone around him was covered in dust and debris. The apartment building hadn't toppled sideways but, like the World Trade Center during 9/11, had caved in under its own weight after the ground floor's support structure was destroyed. The collapse was almost like a controlled demolition. Though the surrounding buildings didn't seem badly affected, with only windows shattered, the chances of survival for anyone left inside were grim. Most residents would be buried under thick piles of rubble.
As the dust began to settle, Jack spotted half of a yellow letter "I" under a partially collapsed wall. He signaled two firefighters to help him shift the broken concrete pillar with a crowbar.
Under the rubble were two bodies, a man and a woman—FBI agents whose faces were unrecognizable. The male agent had, instinctively, tried to shield the female agent, but it hadn't helped. By the time Jack pulled them out, both had passed away.
Jack retrieved their IDs and called Dana Morrell on his phone.
"Yes, ma'am… I've found them. Maggie Bell and Omar Adom Zidan. I'm sorry, Director. I should have stopped them… Yes, I'll wait for you here."
The number of police cars and ambulances at the scene continued to grow, along with vehicles bearing DEA, ATF, and DHS (Department of Homeland Security) markings. FEMA (Federal Emergency Management Agency), also under DHS, was now present. The NYPD had blocked off the entire street, but Jack had no time to worry about Alexis now. He found a nearby officer to look after her, gesturing for her to call him later.
Half of the fire crew had been buried under the rubble, and Jack wasn't about to fight the desperate firefighters for the chance to dig through the ruins. As an FBI agent who had witnessed the explosion firsthand, his job was now to search for clues and track down the culprit.
After questioning the residents who had evacuated in time, he eventually found the building manager, a short, stout African-American man in his fifties.
"The explosion came from a first-floor room near the hallway, right? I knew I should've kicked him out sooner," the manager said angrily, launching into a stream of expletives once Jack had introduced himself and confirmed the room's location.
"You know who lives there, don't you?" Jack pulled out his ever-present notebook, dusting off its cover.
"Felton Ames, a lousy drug dealer. For over a year, we've been trying to evict him," the manager replied sourly.
"A gang member? Then he could have been the real target," Jack suggested, encouraging him to reveal more information.
"That's right. Lately, he's been strutting around like he's someone important, always wearing these ridiculous red silk suits and surrounded by a bunch of idiots with guns. Our tenants here are mostly regular working folks just looking to live quietly, but these bastards…"
"Agent Jack Tavore?" A well-dressed, middle-aged woman with refined features and a man wearing a CSI badge interrupted their conversation as they approached.
Jack blinked, momentarily thrown by their appearance. Seeing them together gave him a strange sense of déjà vu.
"Assistant Director Dana Morrell from the New York Office," she introduced herself. "And this is NYPD Crime Lab Chief Officer Mac Taylor."
A strange thought crossed Jack's mind: In the TV series CSI: New York, these two had been partners. Yet here, one of them was now his direct superior and at such a high rank. The blending of worlds was bizarre, to say the least.
The three shook hands quickly, the somber atmosphere leaving no room for small talk. Dana Morrell got straight to the point. "How many people are still inside?"
Jack turned to the building manager. "The tenant list was just handed to the NYPD and is being cross-checked. According to him, most people were likely at home at the time. And, we lost two agents. They were just entering when the second blast hit. I should have…"
Dana Morrell sighed, noticing Jack's shredded suit. She patted him on the shoulder, which sent a cloud of dust into the air, causing her to cough.
"You did your best. We just spoke with Fire Captain Owen Strand. He said that if you hadn't insisted on evacuating everyone right away, we'd be digging out even more bodies. He wanted me to thank you for saving his life."
"Just doing my duty," Jack replied humbly. Although Americans weren't generally into modesty, his supervisor had noticed his efforts, so it didn't hurt to keep a humble attitude as a new recruit.
"Has anyone claimed responsibility?" he asked, summarizing what he had just learned.
Dana Morrell shook her head. "Not yet. I've ordered a lockdown of twenty city blocks in the Clinton District, including subway lines, and requested the Port Authority to close all bridges, tunnels, and stations within city limits. The FBI will take over the investigation.
"Our time is limited. Half the city will be paralyzed until the terror alert is lifted," she continued, pausing to give Jack a serious look. "Senior Agent Tavore, it looks like you're starting your position early."
She then turned to Mac Taylor, who was already putting on latex gloves. "Mac, this agent from the BAU, Jack Tavore, is also skilled in crime scene analysis. I assume you wouldn't mind if he joins you temporarily?"
Mac Taylor, with deep bags under his eyes that suggested a severe lack of sleep, gave a faint smile at her words.
"How could I turn down a hero? The mysterious FBI agent who stopped the final suicide bomber in the Dallas supermarket case, right? I'm sorry our first meeting is under such tragic circumstances. I hope New York hasn't left you with too rough of a first impression."
Jack managed a weak smile in return, accepting the gloves Mac handed him. There really was no easy response to that.
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