Cat and Scott rode the elevator up to the screen. Halfway up, the elevator stopped.

Abdul smiled at the judge and the FBI agent swinging in the air. Did they think he had not anticipated this? The FBI was always a step behind Abdul Khalid.

"We're climbing," Cat said.

She opened the screen door and climbed up the side. Scott followed. The security guard said, "Hell, no."

The main lights inside the stadium went off for a brief moment then the video screen came alive. One hundred thousand fans were expecting to see Beyonce. They did not.

Ehan Jamal had emigrated to the U.S. from Afghanistan five years before. He brought his wife and son. They had a good life in America. A safe life. Not like in Afghanistan. No daily suicide bombings, shootings, and murders. America was peaceful. But he could never forget what he had left. Consequently, when he saw the black ISIS flag appear on the big screen above the field, he did not scream or panic or run for the exits as the fans around them did. He knew it would be of no use. So he simply held his wife's hand and his son's hand and waited to die. They were all going to die.

On the big screen and thirty-five hundred screens in the stadium Abdul Khalid's voice said, "Fear not, Americans. You are all going to die today. In the name of Allah. The end of days is upon us. Upon you. You are the infidels, the unbelievers, the kuffars. Do not bother to run. You cannot escape your fate. America has waged war on Islam for thirteen years. Now Islam strikes back at America. Allahu Akbar!"

"Cut the live feed!" the FBI director yelled into the phone. The president buried his face in his hands.

There was a moment of silence as the video registered with the spectators. Then there was sheer panic. Parents grabbed their children and ran for the exits. Abdul smiled as Americans ran for their lives. Look how they fight each other to get out, to stay alive, to run from death. Oh, how they love life, just as we love death. He had brought death upon them. He had put terror into the hearts of the unbelievers. Now he would join them in death. He removed his shirt, grabbed his gun, and walked out of the screen room. A fist hit him square in the nose. He stumbled back and dropped the gun. The fist hit him again and again.

"You tried to rape my daughter!"

How did the judge get up?

Scott punched Abdul down the catwalk. With each punch his anger rose.

"You fucked with the wrong father!"

Scott hit this man he hated as hard as he possibly could. He fell over the railing, but held on with one hand. Scott reared back to hit him again, to send him ninety feet to his death- "No, Scott!"

Cat's voice stopped him. He pulled back. Abdul swung one leg over the railing. He smiled.

"There's no where for you to go, Abdul," Cat said.

"Yes, there is. To heaven."

"It's over," Scott said.

Abdul smiled. "Do you not understand, Judge? It will never be over."

"It's over for today."

"No, it is not. Judge, do you think I do not have a Plan B?"

"We know about the sarin. Hard to execute Plan B hanging on this catwalk."

"It is already executed. And you are too late. See you in heaven soon, Judge. Unless you can hold your breath for a very long time. Allahu Akbar!"

He let go of the railing and fell backwards to the stadium field below. He lay sprawled on the white star on the fifty-yard line.

FBI agents gathered on the playing field next to Abdul's body. They were down in a hole. Literally. The playing field sat fifty feet below the ground level. The fans were in full panic, running to the exits above. But one hundred thousand people could not get out that fast.

"This is the perfect venue for a sarin attack," Cat said. "The roof is closed, and sarin is heavier than air, so it'll sink down to that hole. To the fans in the stands."

She looked up to the closed roof then grabbed her handheld radio.

"All FBI agents. The terrorists deployed sarin in the ventilation system. Whoever is closest to the HVAC system center, get there and find it before it detonates."

A voice came back.

"Ace here. I'm on it, Cat."

"Hurry! But be careful."

"We're way past careful now."

Special Agent Ace Smith ran up the flight of stairs to the HVAC control center. A security guard stood sentry at the door. Ace flashed his badge.

"Open up."

The guard unlocked the door. They went inside.

"What's up?" the guard asked.

"We're looking for sarin."

"What's it look like?"

"Liquid. Until it hits the environment. Then it turns to gas."

"Where should we look?"

"Near the intake for the AC."

"Over here."

They searched the area around the AC intake but found nothing. They turned to leave- "What's this?" the guard said.

He pointed at a black box the size of an equipment locker.

"It doesn't belong here?" Ace said.

"No. I've never seen it before."

Ace put his handheld to his mouth. "Cat, we found it."

"It?" the guard said.

Cat came back. "Ace, you've got to disarm it before it detonates."

"Detonates?" the guard said.

"I know," Ace said into the radio.

Ace knelt before the box. He tried the top, but it was locked.

"Get some tools," he said.

The guard returned in a few minutes with a tool kit. Ace took a screwdriver and jammed it into the keyhole. He took a hammer and rapped the handle of the screwdriver. The lock popped; the top opened.

"Shit," the guard said.

Inside the box were ten containers, perhaps two gallons each, and a detonator. Ace rummaged in the toolkit for wire cutters. He found a pair. He took a deep breath and reached into the box.

It was the last deep breath Ace Smith would ever take.

The detonator blew. The containers exploded. The liquid sprayed out and evaporated. The intake unit sucked the sarin into the ventilation system. The guard fell to the floor. His body twitched, and his eyes got wide; but his pupils got tiny. Ace had to warn Cat. He put his handheld to his mouth. But he fell to the floor. Ace Smith realized that he wouldn't spend the rest of his life bass fishing. The rest of his life was now.

"Cat, the sarin is out."

"Ace!"

His radio went dead. They were riding in the elevator down to the playing field; the security guard found the override. She looked up to the large metal ventilation tubes wrapping around the top of the stadium. She could see the vents but not the sarin. But it was flowing out. Sarin is heavier than air so it would fall the three hundred feet to the stands below. It would kill everyone in the stadium.

Unless- She thought. She was in the box. She needed to think outside the box. She needed to get out of the box. Out of the stadium. Inside was air saturated with sarin. Outside was fresh air where the sarin would disperse quickly. When they hit the ground, she grabbed the security guard.

"Take to me to the control center for the roof. Fast!"

They ran up the stairs from the field and to the control room. A technician sat behind a desk.

"Open the roof!" Cat said.

"I can't just open the roof."

"Why not?"

"First thing is, it has to open very slowly or the change in pressure inside the stadium will shatter the glass panels at each end."

"Good."

"Why is that good?"

"Sarin is heavier than air. It's sinking from the ventilation ducts along the roof down to the people in the stands. The change in air pressure should suck the sarin out of the stadium."

"You sure?" Scott said.

"No. But it's our only hope."

"How will we know?

"If we don't die."

"Did you say sarin?" the tech asked.

"Open the roof."

"I need authorization."

Cat pulled her gun and put it to his head. "You're authorized. Open the fucking roof. Fast!"

He pushed a lever slightly. The monitor showed the two roof doors slowly part. Cat rammed the lever open full.

"What are you doing?"

"Saving your life."

They went back outside and watched the roof open. The two doors in the roof retracted quickly, one to the east, the other to the west. She could feel the air pressure change. She looked to the door panels above each end zone. They suddenly shattered; the glass blew inwards and onto the playing field below. Balloons and trash and papers and Cowboys banners were sucked out through the roof.

With the sarin.

An hour later, Scott and Cat, Louis and Carlos, and the girls wore sweat suits and dried their hair with towels. The girls were shivering in the cold. First responders in Hazmat suits had set up decontamination stations to be on the safe side. No one had displayed symptoms of sarin poisoning. They had been stripped of their clothes and washed down behind plastic cubicles.

"You were right, Pea." Agent Beckeman had walked up. "It was a diversion."

"You're not dead."