18: THE CHASE

WITH A HANDFUL of wires dangling behind him, the intruder ran to the end of the lab and slammed through the closed door.

“Hey!” Hanna yelled. “Stop!” She stuffed the boxcutter into her pocket and bolted across the room, following him through the door and into the stairwell.

The clop of his shoes echoed off the bare concrete walls as he scurried down the steps. Hanna leaned over the railing, watching the top of his hood spiral down the stairs. She followed him down, skipping every other step and bursting into the empty lobby.

The receptionist was gone and the security guards had finished their shift. She ran through the vacant room and plowed past the front doors.

The frigid air slapped her face and smoky clouds escaped her mouth. Snowflakes drifted down from the sky and a thin coat was forming on the ground. She swiveled her head back and forth, searching for the intruder.

To her left, there were Harvard University dorms, abandoned for the week as students were home for winter break. To her right, there was a large banner hanging over the street. Annual Taste of Chocolate Festival � Next Right. A trail of footprints led past the banner.

She followed the trail, trotting at a steady pace, aware that the ground was more slick than usual. She passed under the banner, looking up as it rippled and swayed with the increasing wind.

The trail reached an intersection and turned right. When she turned the corner, she stopped, overwhelmed by the massive crowd swarming Harvard Square. The footprints led to a nearby trash bin, and then disappeared into the flood of people.

“Crap,” she muttered, slamming her fist into a light post.

She approached the bin to look at the garbage inside. The black ski mask sat on top. She picked it up to examine the hand-cut holes. He had abandoned his mask to avoid unwanted attention. If anything, at least she could now catch a glimpse of his face. She tossed the mask back in the bin and walked forward to enter the crowd.

A medley of drums shook the ground as a group performed in the middle of the square. Some played snares, striking down with impressive rhythmic speed. Others held large bass drums, sending vibrations through her entire body whenever they hit the massive instrument. When they finished their arrangement, the audience applauded.

“Thank you,” one of the performers said, grabbing a microphone from the stand. “Thank you all for coming out to this great event. You’ve decided to brave another cold night. And guess what. We have our first snow of the season.”

He glanced up and stuck his tongue out. The crowd cheered.

“Yes, it’s truly a beautiful night, and there’s no better way to spend it than with all of this delicious chocolate.” Again, the crowd cheered. “Now, I don’t want to take up too much of your time, but I do want to say that the Taste of Chocolate Festival here in Harvard Square has become one of my favorite events of the year. It’s just incredible how much it’s grown, and I know it wouldn’t be the same without all of you. It’s a cold one tonight, so grab yourself a cup of hot chocolate, bundle up, and enjoy yourselves.” He attached the microphone back to the stand and the drums behind him started to play again.

Hanna pushed through the dense crowd, searching for a man with a black pullover hoodie. There were many winter coats in anticipation of the snow, but a hoodie would stand out. He would also be carrying the storage server, which was far too big to conceal.

“Would you like a dark chocolate covered cannoli?” a woman asked from a nearby stand, holding out the bite-sized pastry.

Hanna waved her off, trying to squeeze through the wall of people in front of her. “No, thank you.”

“Are you sure? It has a Belgium white chocolate filling. It’s quite divine.”

“I’m sure. Thank you,” Hanna said, finding a gap in the crowd and slipping through. On the other side was another stand. This one had what appeared to be miniature pies.

“They look good, don’t they?” the man on the other side of the table said. “It’s a chocolate tart with candied bacon. You wouldn’t think it, but chocolate and bacon are one hell of a combo. Would you like to try?”

She waved him off as well and squeezed through another cluster of people, stumbling into an open area. It was here that she was able to gather a view at the entire square.

Numerous stands lined the sides, all with different variations of chocolate. Chocolate espresso cookies. Salted caramel chocolate fudge. Chocolate walnut mudslides. Peanut butter chocolate brownies. Chocolate ganache macarons. Triple Chocolate cheesecake.

Everywhere she turned, there was a new form of chocolate. But there was no sight of the man in the hoodie. She raced past the row of stands as the beating drums fueled her panic.

Overwhelmed by the vast number of people, she stopped running to regroup. There was no way she would find him in the crowd. There were nearly a thousand people. Maybe more. The smarter approach was to anticipate where he would go next.

Did he have a car? She did not recall seeing additional cars in the parking lot outside of the office. It was possible he parked farther away to be discreet, but it seemed unlikely. He thought he would be alone. From his perspective, there was no reason to take such a precaution.

Perhaps he would call a taxi. But the roads were closed for the festival. He would have to go a few blocks away to find a cab.

The last option was the subway. The entrance to the station was close by. Right in the middle of the square. But the reliability of a train coming in a timely manner was unlikely, and with the popularity of the festival, getting on the first train was even less likely.

So where would he go? Which option would he choose?

As she contemplated her choices, a young man behind her shrieked with pain. “What the hell? Watch where you’re going, prick. That was scalding hot chocolate you just spilt on me. Christ, what’s wrong with you?”

Hanna turned around to look at the man. He wore a puffy blue jacket and a bright red winter hat with a fluffy ball on top. He held an empty paper cup, and his jacket was stained with a fresh splatter of hot chocolate. The man he yelled at wore a black hoodie and held the storage server. He no longer had his ski mask, but a scarf concealed the lower half of his face.

“What do you have to say for yourself?” the man in the blue jacket asked, waiting for an apology.

The man in the hoodie was about to speak when he saw Hanna staring at him. They locked eyes, both in shock.

“Don’t ignore me,” the other man said. “Look at me when I’m talking to you.”

The man in the hoodie turned back to the disgruntled man. He held his glare for a short moment, and then exploded into a full sprint.

The man in the jacket threw his hands in the air. “Where the hell are you going, prick?”

Hanna burst back into the chase, sprinting through the crowd, and swiping past the man covered in hot chocolate. She weaved between the lines of people waiting for their free chocolate. Raced past the vendors, who were ready to offer their samples. Slid past the performers, who were beating their drums even faster than before. She whizzed past everyone, locking her sight on the top of the black hoodie, watching it bob up and down thirty feet in front of her.

They left the square, away from the people and toward the river. A steady gust of wind swept in from the waterfront, throwing flurries of snow at her face. The thin coat on the ground was now a healthy heap. Her shoes crunched down with every step.

She watched the man approach the waterfront, expecting him to turn either left or right to run along the riverbank, but instead, he hopped the guardrail and scurried onto the frozen water. Her eyes widened, but she kept her stride. The river was at least five-hundred feet across to the other side. The man was insane. Or desperate. Or both. The question was, would she follow? He was probably the one who had framed Eileen. That was unacceptable. She would not let Eileen go to jail for three murders she did not commit. Whoever this masked man was, she needed to catch him.

She vaulted over the guardrail and landed on the ice. Before moving forward, she shifted her weight to test its strength. It seemed thick enough, but it would weaken as she got farther out. She would have to move with caution.

Her shoes were old, and the treads were worn. On the slick surface, she could barely even stand upright. She glanced up to see the man struggling as well. He waddled along the ice, glancing over his shoulder to see if she was still there. When their eyes met, Hanna held contact and shook her head.

“I’m going to catch you, asshole! You’ve got nowhere to run!”

He ignored her and continued to waddle. Hanna focused back on her own feet, experimenting with sliding instead of stepping. She pushed forward and slid a comfortable distance. Then, she shifted her weight to the other foot and did the same thing. Her momentum carried over and pushed her forward even more. A grin formed on her face. This would work.

She moved across the ice with a skater-like stride, sliding from side to side and using the slick ice to her advantage. When she looked up again, she saw that the man had still not figured out how to traverse the frozen river. He took baby steps, inching forward little by little with the storage server tucked under his arm.

Hanna was closing the gap, but she was not sure what to do once she reached him. Pull off his scarf to reveal his face? Grab the server from him? Sucker punch him while his back was turned? She was approaching fast and would have to choose soon.

She hurdled toward him at an alarming speed, with no method to slow herself down. The only way to stop was to collide with the man, who had not yet noticed how close she was. She extended her arms forward to brace for impact.

As she reached for the server, the man twisted around and sidestepped out of her way. She fell forward with her entire body kicking up behind her. The momentum of her swinging arms threw her face downward, slamming her cheek into the ice.

She shut her eyes, but her vision still lit up with stars. She stayed on the ground, struck with a hazy confusion as her senses attempted to crawl back into her body. The biting cold of the ice pierced her cheek and sunk deep into her face.

Tingling turned to stinging. Stinging turned to pain. Pain turned to numbness. And any lingering pain in her face migrated to her temples, morphing into a splitting headache. When she opened her eyes, she could see the man’s outline, backing away from her. Details were blurry, and colors were distorted, but she could still tell. He was escaping.

She pressed her hands against the frigid ice and lifted herself up to a kneeling stance, glancing at the spot where her face had hit. There was a red splotch surrounded by small cracks. She brought her hand to her cheek, feeling only numbness as she touched the now swollen area. When she looked at her finger, there was blood. Not a lot, but more than she expected.

The man turned his back to her and waddled away as fast as he could. As Hanna stood up to pursue him, the ice shifted below her feet. She looked down at the red splotch. The cracks were bigger, and they were growing.

She tensed her body to lock her pose, watching the cracks expand in multiple paths. Another glance up revealed the man had discovered her sliding technique and was skating away.

“No!” she yelled, reaching out and stepping forward.

Her first step punctured the ice, and her entire body fell through.