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Marcus began to silently count down from fifty.

He had to calm himself down or he was going to make the situation worse. Another minute passed. Then two. Then three, though it seemed like an eternity. Finally Marcus could hear just enough of the conversation to tell him that the commander was now on the line with Roseboro.

Even from several yards away, Marcus could hear the DSS director screaming bloody murder at the commander, who was of course just trying to do his job but had no idea how much damage he was doing. Soon Marcus heard the commander apologizing profusely. Then he hung up.

“Uncuff them—now—move,” the commander barked at his men, who tried to apologize to Marcus and the others as well.

Marcus had no time for that. The moment he, Jenny, and Pete had their weapons and other possessions back, they sprinted for the front doors of Willis Tower. As they ran, Marcus called Roseboro back.

“NSA has isolated the signal,” Roseboro told him. “103rd floor—east side. It’s the Skydeck.”

Outside the main lobby, they once again had to show their badges and IDs to police officers and National Guard troops standing post out front of the massive skyscraper.

Pete unleashed a torrent of profanity at the officers, demanding they let him and his colleagues through. But they were not listening. They said they needed to check everything Pete was saying with their superiors. This only further set Pete off. Even when Marcus put the lead officer on the line with the head of DSS, it was not enough. The officer claimed he needed to hear from the watch officer at the Joint Task Force. Turning red, Pete screamed that the head of DSS was in charge of the JTF and—

Marcus grabbed Pete, pulled him aside, and told him to shut up. He was not helping.

Stunned, Pete stopped talking.

Marcus apologized to the officer and calmly explained that they were federal counterterrorism officers. They were responding to a credible threat, and the officer and his men needed to stand down immediately or all be arrested.

At this, the officer carefully studied each of their badges again.

Just then the watch officer at the JTF center called the officer on his mobile phone. Marcus could not hear what the man was being told. Nor did he need to. When the brief call was over, the officer apologized, handed Marcus his own personal M4 automatic rifle and belt filled with extra magazines. He took off his bulletproof vest, gave this to Marcus as well, and told his colleagues to do the same for Agents Morris and Hwang. Then the officer opened the doors into the Willis Tower and stepped out of the way.

“Have your team guard the lobby,” Marcus told him. “No one but federal agents allowed in. Got it?”

“Yes, sir,” the officer said.

“And call the building security command center,” Marcus added as he strapped on the ammo belt and pulled the vest over his head. “Have them call every office from the 102nd floor down. Tell them to evacuate immediately, but don’t tell them why. And tell them they must take the stairs and keep the elevators clear for first responders. Clear?”

“Clear, but what about the Skydeck and above?”

“Everyone on the Skydeck is dead or a hostage.”

With that, Marcus bolted past the metal detectors, across the lobby, and up one of the escalators near a Starbucks. Donning their equipment, Pete and Jenny soon did the same and raced up behind him.

Jenny’s phone rang.

“Roseboro says we’ve got a DSS tactical unit inbound, along with a Secret Service CAT unit and a NEST team,” Jenny told them as they approached the bank of elevators. “But he says not to wait.”

Marcus hardly needed to be told that. He entered the number sixty-seven into the digital touch pad that directed the elevator control system. When one of the doors opened, they all stepped inside and ordered every employee and visitor stepping off the elevator to evacuate the building immediately. On a typical weekday, upwards of twenty-five thousand people worked in the building or passed through to visit, shop, or dine. Marcus had no idea how many would be here on a Saturday when traffic was so restricted, but he asked Jenny to call Roseboro back and have him reinforce the order to clear all floors under the Skydeck and not allow anyone new inside the building.

Then they were on an express elevator, heading to the 67th floor at 1,600 feet per minute. Marcus’s ears popped.

Though the NSA believed the call had come from the 103rd floor, Marcus told Jenny and Pete they were not going there directly. It was too risky. They could be shot the moment the door opened. Instead, once they got to the 67th floor, they should each take separate elevators. He directed Jenny to the 101st floor and Pete to the 104th. Marcus told them that he would go to the 102nd. Once they got off, they should pick a stairwell and converge on the 103rd floor from all three directions. They had no idea how many terrorists they would be up against, but they had to move fast.

The elevator bell rang. Marcus swung the M4 over his back and drew his Sig Sauer. They still had nearly fifty floors to go, but he did not want to frighten civilians working in the building more than necessary. As the doors opened, a crowd of startled employees and a couple of maintenance people greeted them. Marcus flashed his badge and ordered them to tell everyone on their floor to evacuate and get out of the building as quickly and as quietly as possible, using only the stairs. Jenny added that they should text anyone else they knew on floors under 102 to evacuate as well. They did not say why. They just spread out and moved to separate banks of elevators.

Just then, however, Marcus’s phone rang again. It was Dell.

“We’re too late,” she said. “They just fired.”