FBI Field Office, Chicago
‘He’s one of our finest section leaders!’ Angela Dawson’s shock was palpable. ‘I’ve worked with him for years. And you want to mark him a, a traitor?’
‘We’ve been considering multiple options,’ Chris clarified. ‘Anyone higher than Marsh on the food chain. That list has been short, but it’s included Ted Gallows, Alan Mayfair, Brian Smith and . . .’ He hesitated.
Dawson’s glare narrowed. She stared straight into Chris’s eyes. ‘And me,’ she completed the listing for him.
Chris said nothing, only meeting her stare.
‘You had to have been looking at me. If you think there was a mole that high on the totem pole, then I would have been a candidate.’ Her eyes bore more deeply into Chris’s, awaiting confirmation.
‘That’s right,’ he finally affirmed, speaking slightly more softly.
‘How do you know I shouldn’t still be at the top of your list?’
‘Everything points to Gallows,’ Chris answered. He listed the details that had convinced both Marsh and himself, the Deputy Director taking them in, almost motionless.
‘It’s all circumstantial. Merely suspicion,’ she finally said.
‘There was also the SWAT operation yesterday,’ Laura objected. ‘Gallows was on the ground with the first team and led them right to the room where the bomb was located. It was as if he knew where he was going. It fits with a plan to lead us astray by guiding us to a dupe device.’
They awaited a reply. Dawson paced the room, scanning the floor blankly as her mind computed the information.
When at last she stopped her pacing and spoke, her tone was determined.
‘Charges like this aren’t to be built on hearsay, and internal staff investigations are well above either of your pay grades.’ She stared into each of their faces, her features an indistinguishable blur of accusatory, angry, and concerned.
A moment later, her expression changed. She had made her decision.
‘Dammit, it’s enough to call him in for questioning. And if you’re right, there’s no time for a normal investigation before we do it. We’ll bring him in, see what he knows. Immediately.’
‘Where is he now?’ Laura asked, her relief palpable.
‘In the field, leading one of the final routine crowd sweeps before the parade begins. I’ve assigned all our teams to standard grids along the route.’
‘Then we need to get out there as well.’ Chris was already moving towards the door.
‘I’ll relay commands to all the ground teams on the new threat,’ Dawson said, moving towards the phone on Laura’s desk. ‘Our primary target now is some form of dirty bomb. Focus on the most concentrated areas in the crowd: squares, hubs of onlookers. Wherever a released toxin could affect the largest number.’
‘As well as a location with ample public coverage,’ Marsh added. ‘Emily and Michael said that Bell was insistent on the world seeing him obliterate the bulk of its religious leaders. It suggests they’ll try to find a place with ample television crews around.’
‘Take the central square,’ Dawson noted. ‘The two of you focus on Gallows. I’ll have the full contingent of ground teams sweep for the device.’ She paused, the words escaping her lips sounding surreal. ‘If Gallows has been involved all along, he’ll be involved at the end.’
‘We’ll get to him as fast as we can,’ Chris answered. He waited for Laura to reach his side and they left her office together.
At the desk, Angela Dawson lifted the phone and ordered the switchboard to connect her to her men on the ground.