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“Vatican One” touched down at O’Hare International Airport precisely at noon.

Fifteen minutes later, Air Force One was wheels down as well.

Using high-powered binoculars from the position they’d taken near Navy Pier, Marcus, Jenny, and Pete watched both planes come in on approach. As each jet roared past, the three agents scanned the city’s three most prominent office buildings, looking for anything out of the ordinary.

Marcus focused on Willis Tower. Completed in 1973 with 110 stories and standing a dizzying 1,450 feet tall, it was the tallest building in the state of Illinois and the second tallest in the United States. That made it both a potential target and a theoretical launching pad for terrorist attacks. Marcus, like many Americans, still thought of it as the Sears Tower. But the building was renamed in 2009, years after Sears—once the biggest retailer in the world with 350,000 employees—sold the building and its naming rights, eventually filing for bankruptcy.

Jenny, meanwhile, zoomed in on the Trump International Hotel & Tower. Completed in 2009 and named after its brash and colorful owner, the building was home to not only a luxury hotel but apartments, condos, and business offices. It stood 92 stories and a whopping 1,398 feet including its spire.

Pete monitored the St. Regis Chicago, which had broken ground in 2016 and was completed in 2020. It was now the third tallest building in the city, clocking in at 101 stories and an impressive 1,191 feet.

The other two buildings didn’t have balconies. Nor did they have windows that could be opened. Neither Marcus nor his colleagues saw anything that concerned them, but that hardly settled Marcus’s nerves.

Now that the president and the pope had landed safely, Pete suggested they find a position overlooking the Jane Byrne Interchange between I-90/I-94 and I-290 to monitor the incoming motorcade. Marcus agreed, and they decided to join a team of DSS agents positioned on the roof of the Student Recreation Facility on South Halsted Street, located on the edge of the campus of the University of Illinois Chicago. That was the tallest building close to the city’s central freeway interchange and would provide them with the best vantage point.

With no traffic, the drive—even with several checkpoints—was quick, and they soon found themselves with their colleagues.

Marcus wished the principals were taking Marine One to Soldier Field. The presidential helicopter would certainly have been faster. Typically, it was also considered the safest means of transportation for the president and his guests. Marine One did not travel alone. Rather, it flew in a package of three choppers that constantly rotated in flight to confuse any would-be terrorists as to which aircraft the president was actually in. Roseboro, however, felt a motorcade would be safer, arguing that if the Kairos operatives possessed surface-to-air missiles and had located themselves outside the security perimeter to avoid detection, they might be able to fire simultaneously and repeatedly on all three helicopters, potentially exhausting the choppers’ onboard anti-rocket defenses and scoring a direct hit.

Hernandez had been skeptical, and Roseboro had conceded that there were risks to keeping him and the pope on the ground as well. On balance, however, he was convinced it was the right thing to do. After all, the principals would be traveling separately in limousines dubbed “the Beast.” Specifically designed for the Secret Service, the limos were essentially luxury battle tanks, impregnable and capable of surviving a direct hit even by an anti-tank missile.

Both I-90 and I-290 were empty. They had been closed to all civilian traffic at midnight and had been thoroughly checked for IEDs and other explosive devices. Soon Marcus saw the first detachment of police motorcycles roaring toward them from the west. The rest of the motorcade would not be far behind.

His stomach in knots, he called Annie. “Anything?” he pressed, his voice thick with tension.

“Nothing,” she replied, her voice just as tense. “Stay sharp. I’ll call you if something breaks. Dell is calling. I’ve got to go.”

Chicago PD and Secret Service helicopters crisscrossed the skies overhead. So did a dozen surveillance drones. Marcus and his team used their binoculars to scan every building lining the highways, looking for snipers or anything out of the ordinary. The problem was that windows of almost every apartment building close to the president’s main route were open. People were hanging banners out of them, welcoming the leaders to Chicago. Some were waving and cheering and leaning out their windows. Others were cursing and shouting protests. Clusters of people were massing on rooftops. Some sat in lawn chairs. Others stood at the edges of their buildings, eager to catch a glimpse of history in the making.

Now a formation of CPD squad cars came into view, trailed by six identical black limousines. These were followed by a fleet of black SUVs carrying members of the Secret Service counterassault team, electronic jamming equipment, and plainclothes agents. Next came a line of black sedans carrying White House staff. These, in turn, were followed by white vans ferrying the White House press corps, a line of ambulances, more police squad cars, and another formation of police motorcycles.

Moments after the motorcade passed his position, Marcus watched it reach the next exchange and exit onto I-55, known as the Stevenson Expressway. From there, it turned without incident onto South Lake Shore Drive and then onto the grounds of Soldier Field.

Now what? Marcus thought. Had all their efforts spooked the Kairos teams? Or were they waiting for a more opportune moment?