9:55 p.m – FBI Director Frederick Cooper walked to the podium inside Conference Room Three. Fortunately, the press used this room regularly to record various FBI public briefings, reports on ongoing operations, etc. so it took the leading networks no time at all to come online. He noticed representatives from many of the leading newspapers, including the Washington Post and the New York Times.

Cooper began, “I want to thank you all for coming here upon such short notice this evening. As all of you know, major events took place earlier this evening, originating with a broadcast on the World News Network from an underground location in New York. As I speak to you now, FBI agents and officers of the New York Police Department have surrounded the old Yankee Stadium, which is scheduled soon for demolition. Plans are underway for police officials, in combination with the FBI and members of the BATF to force their way into the facility and make appropriate arrests for illegal firearm possession.

“What you don't know, however, is that the real reason this operation was initiated wasn't to crack down on illegal weapons possession. That opportunity only emerged after police and FBI officials arrived on the scene. The real reason we were there was questionable at best.”

Cooper gazed around the room and took a moment to catch each reporter by the eye before he continued. “Two weeks ago, the President of the United States ordered the FBI to engage in unconscionable activity on the country's behalf. He informed me of a plan to kidnap the daughter of Justin Knight, in relation to a secret video, the same video you saw on your television screens this evening.” A flurry of flashbulbs filled the room as he said this.

“The President ordered us to recover this video, and while we could also rescue the daughter afterward, we were ordered not to pursue her kidnappers.”

As the flashbulbs continued even more rapidly, some reporters in the room started to shout out questions. He raised his hand to silence them.

“I can only speculate as to why the President ordered our agents this evening to assist the New York City Police Department, but my guess is that he wants to bring Justin Knight and Paul Regan into custody before they can reveal any more unpleasant information to the public regarding the current financial crisis.”

The cries of reporters seeking recognition grew loud now, but he continued to ignore their pleas.

“I am a career law enforcement officer, and I have given my life to seeking justice for all people. To stay in this job under these circumstances is intolerable to me. Therefore, effective immediately, I am resigning my position as Director of the FBI.”

Then he turned and walked out of the room without answering a single reporter's question, despite the hundreds of questions they yelled at him as he went out the door. It only occurred to everyone after he left that instead of a press conference, they had witnessed a speech to the nation.

10:06 p.m. – Lieutenant Harold Wilson sat in the police van where he had watched Cooper's stunning press conference a moment ago. He couldn't believe what he heard. Someone handed him a phone and said, “It's the chief.”

He took the phone and said quietly, “Wilson here.”

“Wilson! What the hell are you waiting for? Why haven't you set those charges off yet?”

“Sir, I was watching the press conference on TV. Director Cooper's announcement....”

“To hell with Cooper! You have a job to do, son, now do it!”

“But, sir, in light of what Cooper said on TV, do you think that's wise?”

The chief lowered his voice but spoke more urgently than ever. “Now you listen to me, Lieutenant. We've got a few hundred gun ordinance violators somewhere underground in your vicinity. We know they're there, and we've got five ways to get inside. Every one of them is armed, and therefore every one of them is a menace to the peace of this great city. Forget about how we came to be there in the first place. You're a police officer, man! Do your job!”

Wilson didn't know what to say.

“Did you hear me, Wilson?” The chief bellowed at him this time.

“Yes, sir,” he replied.

“Then move!”

“Yes, sir.”

After he handed the phone back to the technician, he ordered one of his officers, “Have the SWAT team commander report to me immediately.”

A couple hours earlier at 8 p.m., right after Janice ordered him to lead the first group of clients out of the facility, the TST guard named Mark led Justin, Paul, and their families, along with a small crowd of about 50 other people down a long corridor. At the end of the corridor, they found a miniature train station. They saw a railroad track next to a small platform. On the track sat a quarter-height engine with three short open air cars behind it. The engine had no apparent source of power, other than a third rail next to the track. Each car had no roof and only minimal side rails, like a golf cart, and each car had only enough seating for about 18-20 people.

“Everyone on board, please,” Mark instructed them, and they began to climb on. It took only a few moments for them to fill the seats. Once they all settled in comfortably, the engine came to life, and the little train began to descend into a seemingly endless, long, fairly well-lit tunnel. It started slowly, but quickly gained speed as it moved downhill. The train ultimately reached speeds no faster than 30-35 miles an hour as it descended, but in the enclosed space it seemed much faster to the passengers, who held onto any handhold they could find.

“Where are we going?” Michaela called out in an excited voice, but none of her family or friends had an answer for her.

Justin turned to Lizzie who just shrugged and shouted, “I don't know anything more about this than you do.”

About five minutes into their journey, the track seemed to level off for a bit before the train started to climb again. After a while, the train slowed considerably under its unusually heavy load, as their pace reduced to about eight miles an hour. Some of the passengers wondered if the engine would succeed in reaching the top of the hill at all. It wasn't a terribly steep grade, but it was very long, and it taxed the limits of the little engine pulling the three cars. Still, the train managed to slowly work its way up the hill. The journey seemed endless, excruciatingly slow, and many of the passengers who looked back down the track from whence they'd come wondered if they would make it safely to whatever destination awaited them.

Finally, after about ten minutes of this, the track leveled off quickly and came to a stop at another little platform, where another guard with TST credentials hanging from his neck ordered everyone out.

“Welcome to Harlem. Please disembark and follow me outside where we have street level transportation waiting for you.”

“Harlem?” Michaela asked with surprise. “How did we get to Harlem?”

“I think we just traveled under the Harlem River,” Lizzie suggested, and the other adults nodded or otherwise expressed their own astonishment and/or agreement.

The group followed their guide as he led them up some steps and out a door. They found themselves on a dark side street, the grind of a city bus and the roar of traffic not far away. A short row of white, unmarked panel vans with no windows awaited them. TST personnel quickly guided people to the waiting vans and loaded them up. No lounge chairs awaited them inside this time. The nearly empty interiors contained some benches along the sides, and the TST guards packed them in tightly before sending the vans on their way.

An hour later, Justin and Paul's party found themselves back in their familiar safe house, with AJ there waiting to greet them. The prospect of a late dinner enticed them all as they headed to the second floor dining room.

It took the little train about a half hour to complete each round trip. After two hours, they managed to get all but the last few remaining personnel out of the facility. Meanwhile, other TST people had already completed most of the rushed task of removing computers and other sensitive electronic gear for loading on the train once their clients had departed. It was the largest scrub operation they'd ever attempted in a critical situation, and Janice feared they might have to leave quite a bit of stuff behind. It just depended on how long they could stall the police from attempting to enter by force. Their four prisoners plus a stretcher bearing Parker, the still unconscious guard they'd found during all the excitement, also waited for the train to return for them.

The FBI Director's surprising press conference gave them unexpected time to get the last large group of people out. Now it was up to the TST cleanup team. They could replace chairs, tables, etc. They could not replace valuable information and personnel. Every fingerprint, every personal item, everything that might give clues about the people involved in the movement was wiped clean, destroyed, or removed as necessary.

After the last passenger train returned, TST personnel made some quick changes to the cars to turn them into freight cars, all at the same moment that Lieutenant Wilson ordered the SWAT commander to prepare to enter the facility. The amount of freight they needed to move was surprisingly small. Getting their prisoners on the train and tied down took more time. They had taken the precaution of moving heavy stuff like precious metals and large machinery that they couldn't abandon prior to the broadcast, so the evacuation actually went much quicker than some might have expected. It pleased Janice to know that the months of training and drills she had put her team through had paid off in the end. Still, they would have to time it close.

Just as the demolition team outside prepared to blow their charges, she gave the order to the front line teams to evacuate. Negotiators who had conducted discussions with the police outside continued to talk via special portable radios they carried which tied into the facility's communication system as they ran at top speed to the hidden little train terminal. One could hear blasts from every corner of the underground maze as they climbed aboard the last train to Harlem.

Moments after the dust settled, the SWAT teams carefully peeked inside their assigned entrances. They saw the abandoned barricades TST had assembled, but they saw no people. Sensing a trap, they moved in cautiously one at a time, covering each other, expecting someone to attack at any moment.

Soon, it dawned on them that the people inside must have withdrawn further into the underground corridors. Quickly now, the SWAT teams began moving from room to room, pointing their weapons in every corner and at every shadow as they moved, expecting a counter-attack at any moment. Still, they found no one.

The SWAT team members worked their way into the auditorium. Still no one. They moved down the halls and corridors with great haste. Finally, one of the teams found the underground train terminal, empty. He sent a message back to Lieutenant Wilson who waited outside for news:

“The place is deserted. We found an underground train platform. Sir!”