The Magnificent Mile, Chicago
The cab now two blocks behind them, Emily and Michael were at as close to a full run as they could manage in the dense crowd. Michael’s injuries continued to restrict his speed and motion, and Emily attempted to keep a step ahead of him, shoving aside the parade-goers so they wouldn’t slam into his injured arm. The same crowd tugged at Emily’s conscience. There were so many faces, unassuming and unaware. Children clung to their fathers’ shoulders; a mother offered a bottle to a baby; a teenage couple stood locked in an almost pornographic embrace, taking the parade as a welcome excuse to get away with publicly displaying their unrestrained affection. Hot dogs were in hand, plastic flags flapping from enthusiastic wrists.
So much happiness. Innocence. None of them aware of the terror that was so close by.
The intersection of East Pearson and North Michigan was a main hub of activity, and there was very little space not filled by the mob. It was only Chris Taylor’s peculiarly focused behaviour that enabled them to spot him. He was scanning the crowd, his head moving in long arcs across the whole, vast space, seeking some unknown target. A female counterpart followed suit, only a few paces away.
‘Over here,’ Emily yelled, tugging at Michael’s shoulder, keeping him close. ‘That must be Laura Marsh.’ The woman beside Chris was obviously fit, and just as obviously anxious. She was pressed almost to Chris’s side, the two of them dividing the surveillance of the square.
Emily and Michael dodged through the crowd to make their way towards them.
‘The hell are the two of you doing here?’ Chris spurted out, clearly stunned to see them. ‘I told you to stay away!’
‘And I told you we had too much invested in this not to be here.’ Michael held Chris’s gaze. ‘We know it’s dangerous.’
It was then that Chris noticed Michael’s bandaged arm and scabbed face. The encounter with Bell in Cairo had clearly been more physical than Michael had shared on the phone.
There was no time, or point, in protesting further. They were here. Chris looked to Emily, then back at Michael.
‘All our men are on the ground. They’re on watch for anything that might be the kind of device the two of you described. But it’s one helluva project.’
The magnitude of the sweep was fully apparent from where they stood. There were thousands, even tens of thousands, in the streets. Buildings reached skyward on all sides. The device could be anywhere. Emily’s mind reeled.
‘Our teams are sweeping as thoroughly as they can,’ Laura added, ‘but our immediate task is that man. Ted Gallows.’ She raised an arm and pointed across the busy street. On the far side, a jacketed Special Agent was surveying the masses, speaking to a partner at his side. His gaze was professional and diligent.
‘He’s the agent we’ve determined is the internal link to Bell’s group. If anyone knows what’s about to go down, it’s him. We’ve been monitoring his gestures, watching for any contacts in the crowd. He’s got to know who else in this melee is part of the group.’
Laura was cut off by the sudden arrival of another woman, who stepped through a wall of bodies and joined the huddle.
‘Deputy Director,’ she acknowledged.
‘It’s time for your surveillance to stop,’ the woman ordered. ‘The religious procession is making its way into the plaza. Get Gallows in hand immediately. We can’t let him interact with anyone in the procession.’
Chris kept the Deputy Director’s gaze. ‘We need you with us. Laura and I are his juniors. He’ll pull rank to keep us back.’
The woman pondered the comment only a moment. ‘Fine. We’ll take him together.’
She stepped forward briskly, pushing past a fence barrier and into the street itself, Chris and Marsh immediately following.
Michael tried to push forward and follow, but Emily held him at bay.
‘Let them go.’ Her expression was forceful. Michael stared back quizzically, but did not interject.
As the FBI team moved off, Chris turned back and tossed him a radio. ‘Stay in touch with this. You spot anything suspicious, let us know.’ Without another word, Chris, Marsh and Dawson pushed across the street towards Gallows’s position.
Michael turned to Emily, his face a puzzle.
‘Why wouldn’t you let me follow? You think we’re going to be any safer here than twenty feet over there?’
‘It’s not our safety I’m concerned about,’ Emily answered, ‘it’s everyone’s.’