Rina shouted something in Hebrew. It took several orders and a little pushing by Moti Bernstein before the crowd retreated an inch. Then she focused her attention on the man, demanding answers to her questions. The man remained silent.

Decker held the man tightly, “Moti, search his pockets.”

A quick trip through his garment revealed nothing. In Hebrew, Rina asked him his name.

“Kus amak!” he replied.

And then he spat at Rina’s face.

Decker felt his head explode. He pushed upward on the man’s restrained arm and gripped it hard. “You got ten seconds before I snap the sucker in two—”

“Noooooo!” The man began to struggle violently. “No break!”

“Well, look who talks English.” Decker thought quickly. It was only a matter of minutes before the police arrived and the guy would be lost to him. Calmly, he said, “Rina, ask him what he was doing at the yeshiva? And tell him if I don’t like the answer, he’s dead meat.”

Rina translated the question. The man turned white but said nothing. Decker knew it was useless questioning him among the masses. He jerked him like a rag doll. “Let’s take a walk back to the yeshiva—”

“No yeshiva!” the man cried out. “Is bomb there! No yeshiva!”

“You fuck!” Decker screamed. “Moti, run back and evacuate the yeshiva immediately.” Decker gripped the bomber’s arms and pushed him forward, dragging him as he went limp. “Now you’re going to show me and the police where you put the bomb, you understand!”

“No good! Fife minoots!”

“It’s going to go off in five minutes?”

The man nodded. “Fife minoots.”

“Jesus Christ!” Decker grabbed the first male he saw—a man in his forties who appeared fit. “Hold him.”

Decker took off, raced in the direction of the yeshiva, his only concern now saving the boys. Moti had just finished rounding up the boys when Decker stormed into the bais midrash. Moti was trying to keep order among panicked boys, but was losing control. Everyone was running toward the stairwell. Moti saw Decker and started shaking.

“Someone has to go upstairs to get the boys in the dorm!”

“Got it!” Decker screamed. “Single file everyone.” He began pushing boys in an orderly line. “Move it, but watch your feet. I don’t want anyone trampled on. Moti, is there another staircase—”

“No.”

“Then we’ll make do with this.” Decker bounded up a flight of steps, then went running down the hallway, shouting the word “bomb” as he pounded on doors. He fished out about twenty boys and led them to the staircase. He checked his watch.

If the motherfucker was right, he had two and a half minutes to go.

Up the final flight of stairs. Again, shouting to be heard. Three boys emerged from the front rooms. Then to the last room down the hallway. Out came a teenaged boy dressed in yeshiva garb, a small mole under his eye.