7
The next morning, a meeting is in progress between Commissioner Ed Davis, his police officers, FBI Special Agent Richard DesLauriers, and Slade Wilson. Tensions are high as the Commissioner slams a newspaper on the table, showing photos of people unrelated to the case.
Commissioner Ed Davis: (angrily) The papers are printing photos of people not related to the case! You still haven't identified the suspects. We need to release the pictures.
Richard DesLauriers: (calmly) If we release the photos, we lose control. If we overplay, we may cause this guy to overreact.
Tommy Saunders: (raising his hand) Gentlemen, if I may. Boston is working against us. Normally, no one rats in Boston, but people will talk when it comes to terrorism. (points to the newspaper) People are talking, but they're talking about the wrong people. Release the photos and let Boston work for us.
Richard DesLauriers: (frustrated) You can't just snap your fingers and make this decision. This has to go through the district attorney.
Officer Ryan hurriedly enters the room, phone in hand.
Officer Ryan: (urgent) Rick, Fox News has the photos. They're going to release them in the next two hours.
Richard DesLauriers: (angry) I don't know who did it, but I will find you and destroy you.
Scene cuts to a press conference where Richard DesLauriers stands before the cameras, releasing the photos and asking for public support.
Richard DesLauriers: (addressing the press) We need your help. These are the suspects. If you have any information, please contact law enforcement immediately.
Back at the warehouse, Slade speaks with his analyst team.
Slade Wilson: (to the analysts) People, we haven't found them anywhere online, on social media, or at the airport. Has anyone checked the terrorist watchlist?
Analyst Team: (collectively) No.
Slade Wilson : then do it!! .
Slade Wilson: (thinking) The boy looks like a teenager. Check campus databases and search for him.
After some time, Richard and Commissioner Davis, followed by Tommy, enter the analyst team section.
Richard DesLauriers: (to Slade) Did you find anything?
Slade Wilson: (still searching) We're working on it.
Commissioner Davis places a hand on Slade's shoulder to encourage him.
Commissioner Ed Davis: (supportively) Now, boy, you've done one magic trick by finding them. Now go on and identify them as well.
One of the analysts raises a hand.
Analyst: (excitedly) Sir, I think I found something.
Slade looks at Richard and Commissioner Davis, then goes to the analyst's screen.
Slade Wilson: (smiling) Looks like I've done magic again. Dzhokhar Tsarnaev, the teenager, is a dropout from UMas. He's the younger one, and his brother Tamerlan Tsarnaev is the other bomber.was in watchlist all along , we were to blind to see him .
Tommy gives Slade a hug, filled with relief and gratitude.
Tommy Saunders: (emphatically) Thanks, Slade. Now we'll get these sons of bitches.
The room fills with a renewed sense of purpose as everyone prepares to move forward with the investigation, knowing they are one step closer to capturing the bombers.
The meeting is abruptly interrupted by a police officer running in, breathless and urgent.
Police Officer: (panting) A police officer has been shot near MIT. The suspect matches the description from the photos. He tried to steal the officer's gun. The officer managed to react and save himself—one shot hit his chest, caught by the vest, but another got his arm. we might be able to save it.
Richard DesLauriers: (urgently) Are they being pursued?
Police Officer: (shaking his head) No, they got away.
Commissioner Ed Davis immediately takes charge.
Commissioner Ed Davis: (instructing) Set a perimeter around that area. (turning to Slade) Thank you, boy. Your bizarre advice saved one of my men. I'll be grateful to you. We will catch those sons of bitches.
Slade nods to Ed, then Richard speaks up.
Richard DesLauriers: (decisively) Let's move in. I think we should go to their address, look for evidence there, and take their family in.
Slade Wilson: (adding) I suggest we send SWAT to the dorm at UMass and check if anyone there knows something. They haven't reported him missing even after we released the photos.
Tommy Saunders: (determined) I'll go around the city and find those bastards.
Everyone starts to move out. Slade looks to Richard, asking for permission.
Slade Wilson: (firmly) Permission to engage, sir?
Everyone stops, and Tommy looks at Slade, surprised.
Tommy Saunders: (skeptical) Aren't you an analyst?
Slade Wilson: (quickly) No.
Richard DesLauriers: (nodding) Permission granted. Take the bombers in.
Slade Wilson: (to Tommy) You will follow me. Let's gear up and get in the car. (to Ed) They'll be trying to move out of the city. Alert all police forces and call personnel. This ends tonight.
Slade and Tommy move out. Ed looks at Richard, confused.
Commissioner Ed Davis: (curious) I thought he was under you?
Richard DesLauriers: (seriously) He's pretending to be. He doesn't take orders from anyone.
Commissioner Ed Davis: (intrigued) Which unit does he belong to?
Richard DesLauriers: (firmly) Classified. Don't ask further; you'll only endanger yourself. Now, let's move on.
Tommy Saunders: (curious) Where are we going?
Slade Wilson: (confidently) My car is parked right outside. Let's get in and move out.
Tommy Saunders: (seeing the car) Oh shit, a 1969 Ford Mustang Fastback. This is one of the best cars. (hopeful) Can I drive it?
Slade Wilson: (firmly) No.
Tommy sighs, feeling defeated. Slade smirks and gestures him to come closer.
Slade Wilson: (teasing) Maybe later.
Tommy brightens up at the prospect. Slade opens the trunk, revealing a stash of guns. Tommy steps back, surprised.
Tommy Saunders: (in awe) Oh shit. What are you, some kind of secret service?
Slade Wilson: (smirking) No comment.
Slade takes out tactical gear and puts it on. Tommy already has his gear on. Slade then takes out a Heckler & Koch P30L pistol, a Glock 26 as a backup, and a Heckler & Koch HK416 assault rifle.
Tommy Saunders: (impressed) Look at you. Give me something better; I only have this pistol.
Slade takes out a Heckler & Koch MP5K-PDW submachine gun and hands it to Tommy.
Slade Wilson: (handing the gun) Happy now? Let's get in the car and move.
Tommy Saunders: (grinning) Hell yeah.
Both get in the car and drive off, speeding through Boston. As they go, Tommy hears a report on the radio.
Radio Operator: (urgent) Possible carjacking. Two males, white, mid-20s, at the Mobil station off Memorial and River Street. Witness is an Asian male, name unclear. Emergency operator has trouble understanding him.
Slade and Tommy speed through the city and reach the location. They find the witness and confirm that the males were the terrorists. The car, a black Mercedes, is identified, and the tracking number is given to Slade and Tommy.
Tommy Saunders: (relaying into the radio) Relay the tracking code: Black Mercedes, tracking number [34882789]. Suspects confirmed as terrorists.
They get back in the Mustang, the engine roaring to life as they tear through the streets of Boston, their focus razor-sharp.
Slade Wilson: (determined) Let's catch these bastards.
The city flies by in a blur as they navigate through traffic, following the tracking information. They weave through the streets with precision, the Mustang's powerful engine growling.
Tommy Saunders: (focused) They won't get away this time.
Slade Wilson: (nodding) Not on our watch.
-----------
Night time. Slade and Tommy weave through the city in pursuit. They hear a Watertown P.D. report of shots fired by a black Mercedes. Tommy responds.
Tommy Saunders: (into the radio) Delta 348, moving in.
Slade Wilson: (determined) Looks like we got our guys.
They arrive at 16 Laurel Street and see a chaotic scene: two SUVs, one riddled with bullets and the other blown up. Three officers are engaged in a gunfight with the two bombers, one shooting and the other throwing homemade bombs.
-----
Slade gets out of the car, with Tommy right behind him.
"You flank from the right," Slade barked, his voice leaving no room for argument. "I'll go straight. Now go!"
He didn't wait for a reply, already weaving between abandoned cars towards the source of the gunfire. The flickering neon signs of a shuttered motel cast an eerie glow on the scene – two figures in black, hunched over duffel bags, barking orders at a group of pinned-down officers. The white FBI lettering on Slade's tactical vest was half-hidden in shadow, but it was enough. The cops, their faces etched with relief, unleashed a torrent of lead towards the bombers.
Slade became a whirlwind of controlled chaos. He darted from car to car, each step measured, each shot calculated. His customized pistol spat fire, driving the bombers back, forcing them behind a car As a homemade grenade flew through the air, a jagged black sphere against the crimson light, Slade didn't hesitate. His arm snapped up, the gun a blur. The grenade detonated mid-air, a deafening boom that echoed through the deserted street.
There was no time to admire his handiwork. Smoke billowed from the car, momentarily obscuring his view. Slade surged forward, finding a narrow gap between cars. He squeezed through, emerging on the other side just as one of the bombers stumbled back, clutching a shattered ankle.
"Go, you fool!" the injured man screamed, blood staining his hand. His brother, all raw panic etched on his face, didn't need telling twice. He scrambled into merceds car, throwing it into reverse with a screech of tires. But there was nowhere to go. Behind them, the street dead-ended into a wall of stacked shipping containers.
The injured bomber yells to his brother to escape. The brother gets into the car, turns it around, and heads towards the way Slade and Tommy came in, as the other end of the street is a dead end.
Slade Wilson: (into the radio) Tommy, he's trying to get away!
The injured bomber begins firing blindly towards Slade. Slade takes cover, but Tommy, flanking from the right, shoots the bomber in the other ankle, tackling him down and subduing him.
Slade turns to see the vehicle speeding down the street. He takes aim and fires, hitting the tires. The vehicle swerves and crashes. More officers arrive, setting up a perimeter around the scene.
The officers capture the boy in the car and the man taken down by Tommy. Slade and Tommy regroup, the immediate danger now over.
Slade Wilson: (teasing) You were slow.
Tommy Saunders: (grinning) Sorry, my knee's fucked up. Takes time to hop fences.
An officer approaches, introducing himself.
Captain Pugliese: (nodding) Hello, gentlemen. I'm Captain Pugliese, Watertown P.D. (pointing to Slade) You did a hell of a job there, son, taking the brunt of their firepower so this guy (pointing to Tommy) could take him down.
Slade Wilson: (modestly) No need to mention it, sir. Just doing our work.
The epilogue reveals that Dzhokhar and Tamerlas was sentenced to death by lethal injection and is awaiting his appeal in federal prison; his three college friends were arrested for obstructing the bombing investigation and authorities are continuing to seek information regarding Russell's possible involvement in the bombings.