Terror Always Comes in Twos

It was a sunny day outside, but no light got in through the boarded-up windows of the New York City office. There was a man strapped to a chair in the center of the room, his body covered with sweat and blood. His eyes were shut. But even if they were open, there would be no doors he could see- but escape wasn’t important at the moment. Because in exactly 48 minutes from that moment, a hydrogen bomb was set to explode and the office tower along with so many other surrounding it would crash to the ground in a landslide of rock, dust and flaming rubble that would rival the 9/11 terror attacks. No one would forget this day.

There was a metallic click and suddenly, a door became visible. It swung open to reveal two men in suits. They walked into the dark room and switched on a light that shone directly into his eyes, brighter than the sun.
"Ready to talk?" the first man asked almost sweetly, leaning forward so that his face was mere inches from the terrorist.
"Over my dead body," he smiled back.
The second man pushed his way past the first. "That can be arranged," he whispered as he grabbed the terrorist’s throat.
"Malcolm, no!" the first agent screamed, fear in his eyes. The second man released his hold on the terrorist’s neck, spitting as he did so.

The terrorist’s toothy grin never faded. "Face it, you’re in my hands," he laughed. "I’m sure as hell not going to talk and nothing you can do to me will make me."
Malcolm snarled. "Maybe not to you. Are you married?"
"That’s not any of your business."
"Oh, isn’t it though?" he simpered.
"Malcolm, maybe we shouldn’t…ethical implications…" the first agent said quietly from his corner as he cracked his knuckled nervously.
Malcolm rounded on the other agent now, face red with anger. "Damn it, Wyatt! We’re talking about hundreds of thousands of people dying here! I don’t care about what happens to her! We can keep playing good cop bad cop, but the fact still remains that the time is ticking."

The terrorist sat quietly. "That’s a nice watch," he said casually, pointing to the black band on Malcolm’s wrist.
The first agent sighed and walked into the light. "You married?" he asked.
"So what if I am? You gonna chop off my ring finger?"
Malcolm’s mouth twitched at the corners. "Now’s not the time to make jokes. "
The terrorist stifled a yawn. "Then how about a riddle? Terror always comes in twos," he said.
"We know it’s not your pretty little wife, if that’s what you’re getting at," Wyatt said.
"What the hell have you done to her?" the terrorist snarled as he tried to keep calm.
Malcolm smiled broadly. "If we can’t make you talk, maybe we can make your darling wife tell us something."
For the first time, the terrorist showed real fear. His face paled as he said quietly, "Let her go. She knows nothing, honest. Just don’t hurt her."

Wyatt left the room and returned moments later with the terrorist’s wife. Her face was covered with bruises. "Charles, make them stop!" she cried.
"Ok, alright!" he screamed. "Promise you’ll let her go!"
Wyatt twisted her arm and she screamed, a blood curling scream.
"Jesus!" the terrorist yelled. "It’s under the building in the sewer. I got there through the manhole across the street. "
Malcolm smiled. "Good," he said as he pulled out a shotgun and shot the terrorist right between the eyes. He was dead before he hit the floor. His wife fainted dramatically, collapsing into the agent’s arms.
"Take her out of here and get agents on the bomb," Malcolm said softly to Wyatt. Wyatt hurried out of the room, his face whiter than snow and tinged faintly green.
There was a knock on the door. It clicked open and a custodian stood there, his face as blank as a peeled potato.
"Hank," Malcolm greeted him gruffly. Hank nodded in reply.

"Messy day?" the custodian said as he began to mop up the blood-soaked walls. Malcolm sat down in the chair the terrorist had sat minutes before and shook his head.
"Never get used to it," he muttered, eyes avoiding the terrorist’s lifeless face. "No matter how many times I do it…"
Hank froze for a moment. "I thought you loved your job?"
"I’m protecting my country."
Hank frowned. After a minute’s silence, he said, "Gave you a riddle, did he? What do you think he meant by it?"
Malcolm looked up, surprised. "How’d you…"
"Terror always comes in twos," Hank whispered. Malcolm’s eyes widened as the shock registered on his face. Without a moment to think, Hank whipped out a gun and pointed at the agent.

"Malcolm, don’t!" Hank screamed, his voice nearly hysterical. "You can make it though this, go back to school! Forget about it- no, please don’t-"
"What the hell are you talking about?" Malcolm screamed nearly as loudly.
"Don’t do it, kid!"
"Listen, Hank, stop, we can work something out-"
Hank shot the quivering agent right between the eyes, as he had done to Charles mere minutes ago.
"That was for Charlie," he whispered. Then he wiped the handle clean of fingerprints and placed the gun in Malcolm’s inert hand. He took a bottle of cleaner from his cart and, without hesitation, sprayed it into his eyes. Tears rolled down his face. He opened the door and ran into the hall screaming for help.
Malcolm’s watch beeped 9:00.