Arlington Road Page #7

- I gotta get to my class.

Well, how about

you teach me something?

Oliver Lang,

formerly William Fenimore.

We gave him a good look

atter the St. Louis thing.

Everybody who ever used a bomb

got a good look.

His name change was legal.

We ran his social security number

through the National Crime Center.

Not a mark on his record ever since.

Him and everyone he knew came up clean.

That's what you found out about, huh?

Yeah, that Wichita sh*t back when

he was 16 got you thinking, huh?

Do you have something new on him

or do you just not like him...

in your neighborhood?

'Cause if this is all you got, then

you need to stop teaching that class...

'cause it's gettin' inside your head.

You tell me you got something

to go on and I'll go...

but I'm not gonna walk into another

Copper Creek, and neither should you.

I got nothing.

I'm sorry.

All right. Look.

I ran those phone records,

like you asked.

Could've meant my job,

but I did it.

Two telephone calls that Friday--

one from me...

and another from a pay phone

out Route 180, Pine Glenn Outlets.

Pine Glenn?

A telephone call from your neighbor.

Nothing.

Talk to me, Michael.

What's going on?

Talk to me.

Give up the goddamn class.

I'd like to rent a car

tomorrow morning.

How early could I pick that up?

Michael Faraday.

Oliver Lang, please.

Mr. Lang is out of the office.

Would you like to leave a message?

I need to reach him.

This is a business emergency.

Mr. Lang isn't expected in this morning.

- I'll call back. Thanks.

- Is there something else--

No.

Hey, neighbor, you all right?

What you doin' on this side of town?

Had to know, didn't ya?

Had to know.

Couldn't leave your neighbor alone.

Didn't you check up on me?

Didn't you?

Did you really think

we'd leave anything to chance?

Fifty-one.

I've got your shadow.

Go ahead. We're still on schedule.

- You gonna miss your son, Michael?

- Please.

You've given me no choice!

You think I wanted this?

I told you you were gonna get him back!

How am I gonna do that now?

How am I gonna trust you now?

Where are you taking him?

Where's the bomb?

I'm a messenger, Michael.

I'm a messenger!

There's millions of us,

waiting to take up arms...

ready to spread the word.

Millions of us!

The government's

not who you're killing!

Yes, yes, they'll pay.

They'll pay for their sins...

- You're killing children!

- Their lies, their children.

- Children die!

- This is war.

In a war, children die.

- You're with us!

- No!

Liberty Two, status.

Status one, go.

That's what you stand for.

You tell them you stand for

blowing up families...

for orphan sons.

Your father really kill himself,

you son of a b*tch?

Or is that just one of your

goddamn stories?

- Call it off!

- It's for you, Michael.

- It's for all of us.

- It's not for me. Call it off!

Are you happy in your godless,

suburban life?

Call off the bomb!

Call off the f***in' bomb!

They sent your wife

to her death.

Surely you won't be sorry

to see them go.

You're too late!

Let's get it done.

- Agent Carver.

- Listen to me.

There's a bomb on its way

to your offices. Get everybody out!

- What's going on?

- It's in a white van.

A Liberty Delivery Van.

Grant's in there.

They want the FBI this time!

Michael, you're breaking up!

Whit? Sh*t!

Come on !

Security, main gate.

Out of the way!

That's the van!

Stop it!

- Stop the van!

- Sir, step out of the vehicle!

- There's a bomb in the van!

- Step out of the vehicle!

- It's got a goddamn bomb!

- Michael, wait!

That's the van!

There's a bomb in there!

- That van was authorized.

- That's the van! Grant's inside!

It's the noon delivery.

Grant's in there!

It's got a goddamn bomb!

Hold your fire!

- Don't shoot!

- In the van!

Get everyone out of the building!

There's a bomb in the van !

- Get him out of the building.

- Check the goddamn van.

We gotta get everybody out of here.

There's a bomb.

- It's in there.

- Easy.

Wait! That's--

That's not the man.

- All right.

- Grant!

Let him go.

I said, let him go!

- Back off!

- The van's clean.

There's nothing in here.

Go ahead, Michael.

Michael, it's all clear.

The guy's authorized to be here.

We're all authorized to be here.

Everyone except you.

All right? Come on.

It's all right.

Hey, guys!

Stand by.

Everyone except you.

Boom.

Right now, I'm sort of breathless.

I've just gotten here,

and there are people lying--

It looks just like a war zone!

Officials at this point believe

a bomb went off.

They're not sure

which floor, how big.

Obviously, it was massive

to create the kind of devastation--

Preliminary reports indicate

the bombing was the work...

of this man, Michael Faraday

of Reston, Virginia.

A professor of history

at George Washington University--

Officials will not confirm reports

that the bombing had anything to do...

with the death of Mr. Faraday's wife,

who had been an FBI agent.

Students and colleagues both say...

that Farady's behavior was increasingly

erratic in the weeks leading up--

He was really intense, you know?

Knew all about these terrorists--

how they worked, what they wanted.

He was really into it.

It was my favorite class.

We went to this field trip once.

It was Copper Creek.

He practically broke down and started

crying, something about his wife.

We all sort of knew about it, but

he never really wanted to talk about it.

Faraday reportedly blamed the Bureau

for its role in his wife's death...

almost three years ago.

Specifically, sources

speculate his target...

may have been Agent Whit Carver, one of

the 184 people to perish in the attack.

Carver was a partner

of Faraday's wife at Copper Creek...

and Faraday

may have held him responsible.

All I know is what he told me

in his office one day after class.

I'll never forget that.

He said, "Sweetheart...

one day those men are going to pay.

One day those men

are going to burn."

Yet all of them described Faraday

as solitary but friendly...

as a talented professor fascinated

by the American underground...

and as a loving father

to his ten-year-old son...

who is now in the care of relatives.

And so after exhausting hundreds

of thousands of man-hours and leads...

federal investigators are finally

ready to say...

that just as in the St. Louis

IRS bombing nearly two years ago...

this spring's attack on the FBI...

the worst terrorist strike

in our nation's history...

was the work of one man

and one man alone.

Any news yet?

No. They'll let us know.

Someplace nice.

I hope.

Someplace safe.

Always.

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