successful.” The reality of what was going to happen if they failed tempered Mark’s pleasure that he had proof and that his dad sounded like he might believe him.
“What are you doing to help?”
“I’m going to try to identify some people. They couldn’t get an ID on one guy from the photos, the picture wasn’t clear. I hope I’ll see him.”
“Is it safe?”
That he asked touched Mark, and he had to clear his throat before speaking, “As safe as they can make it.”
Jim approached.
“I gotta go, but Dad…I love you.”
Silence greeted the declaration, then his dad coughed. After a beat, he spoke, his voice hoarse, “Be careful, Mark.”
“I will. Bye.” Mark clicked the phone shut and handed it back to Jim. “Thanks.”
Jim nodded, then dialed a number and put the phone to his ear and walked off a little way.
Mark took a deep, ragged breath. His dad hadn’t said it, but it was there, in his voice. His father cared about him. No matter what happened now, there’d be nothing left unfinished. Despite the circumstances, he felt light, energized. He scanned the crowd, wondering if the terrorists were already about. Jim motioned for Mark to walk with him. Mark jogged to catch up, tugging at the vest beneath his polo shirt. It was only an hour since he’d put it on, and already, he hated the thing.
“Here’s the plan. We’ve put spotters on top of surrounding buildings, have undercover agents in the stadium, some posing as security, others as fans, and we’ve set up a command center in that van over there.”
Mark looked towards where Jim pointed. A white box truck, no different than hundreds on the streets of Chicago, was in a fenced off parking lot beside a small fire-station just behind the left field wall.
“Okay.”
Jim spent a few minutes introducing Mark to the agents in the van. The back of the van looked like a small communication center. Computers, wires, and video monitors filled every spare inch, watched over by four agents.
One of the men watching a video, pointed to the monitors. “We’ve already placed some cameras at optimal points around the park, so we’ll have some extra eyes out there. With the video, a screen capture can then be compared to images already in our database.” He went on to explain the capabilities of some of the other equipment.
Mark whistled softly. “Pretty impressive.”
The agent grinned. “Yeah, and this baby is armored.” He picked up a small ear-piece. “We got a present for you.”
In a few minutes, they had Mark wired so he could send and receive audio.
“You can speak directly to Officer Sheridan, but we’ll hear everything as well. You can turn it off with that little button there so we aren’t subjected to every word of your conversation, but when the time comes near, you need to remember to turn it back on. I’ll be listening in and relaying information to other teams, in addition to giving you updates.”
Feeling in over his head, Mark licked his lips. “Got it.”
Jim thanked the men for the quick rundown, and poked a finger in Mark’s chest. “If we can’t stop this, and things get hot, I expect you to high-tail it to that van. This vest you’re wearing,” He prodded it again. “it’s only good against certain kinds of weapons.”
“What about you?” After his initial reaction to seeing himself a victim in the photo, Jim hadn’t mentioned anything about it. If the man was nervous or scared, he kept it hidden well. Mark had to admire him for that.
“Never mind about me. This is my job, not yours. You just give me your word that you’ll get your ass out of harm’s way.”
“I don’t have a death wish-I’ll get back.” Mark shuffled his feet and rubbed the back of his neck. He might not have a death wish, but he also had no intention of scuttling off to safety while the bad guys were killing people.
Eyes narrowed, Jim studied him, but his cell-phone rang, and with a last hard look, Jim answered the phone.
A surge of fans headed into the stadium in the next hour leading up to the first pitch. Once the game began, the crowd thinned out. By the second inning, the lights came on, casting a warm glow above the stands. He and Jim made several circuits around the stadium and Mark noted the abundance of Chicago police officers. A contingent of mounted police and several officers with dogs patrolled the sidewalks. As they passed a group of young people, Mark heard one comment on the police presence. He had to bite his tongue not to tell the kid to get away from the park. Jim had explained that if there was a public announcement concerning this, it would do little more than create panic. If the terrorists were deterred, either by the warning or if the game were canceled, they’d likely just go to ground and strike somewhere else. Not only that, but creating panic and disrupting the normal activities of Americans was half the goal.
Jim left Mark outside the left field gate while he went to double-check something. This was where he’d seen the father and son exiting just prior to the shooting. If he could spot them exiting, it was the best chance he had of preventing the annihilation at this gate.
While Mark understood, and even agreed with the rationale, he couldn’t help feeling guilty and wondering if every fan he passed was someone who would be a victim later. The game progressed and when some celebrity led the crowd in singing “Take me Out to the Ballgame”, Mark’s jaw clenched and he took a deep breath. The clock was ticking.
He closed his eyes and pulled the dream up again. The gunmen had worn dark hooded sweatshirts with a large Cubs’ logo emblazoned on the left side of the chest. They’d used the baggy sweatshirts to conceal their weapons. Mark had seen them at gates K, D and F, but wasn’t sure if any had been stationed at gate N leading out of the bleachers. Jim had teams there. He focused on anything that had been in the vicinity of the gunmen. Cars, vendors, a person who stood out from the crowd. Anything. The terrorists had taken up positions flanking the gate, partially hiding behind the great white doors chained open at the end of the game. When they began firing, their stream of fire crossed. As panic set in, the crowd had fallen back, racing in the other direction. At least half the dead had been trampled in the ensuing panic, many on the ramp that wound down from the lower grandstands. With the same scenario playing out at three of the four gates, the death count had to be in the hundreds if not thousands. Countless more would be injured.
A hand clapped him on the shoulder and Mark whirled. “Hey!”
Jessie jumped back, her hands up. “Whoa! Take it easy.”
Heart hammering, Mark bent, hands on his knees. Slowly, he straightened. “Damn it, Jess.”
She cocked her head, one eyebrow raised. “You’re a bit jumpy. You sure you’re up to this?” She wore a Chicago PD navy t-shirt, and he could make out her Kevlar vest beneath it. That gave him some peace of mind.
“Yeah, I’m up to it. I was just going over the dream in my mind when you startled me is all.”
“Sorry.” She took a quick peek around, then reached up and stroked his cheek. “ I hope I didn’t cause you to miss something important.”
Seeing nobody paying any attention to them, Mark ran his hand from her shoulder up to the back of her neck, pushing his fingers up through the soft warm strands at the nape. He pulled her in for a brief kiss. “I hope I don’t get you fired, but I had to do that.”
She remained close and grinned. “Nah, nobody’s looking. Besides, you kissed me, and it’s not like they can fire you. I could press charges for interfering with an officer in the line of duty.” Her arms crossed, and she brought a hand up to her chin, head cocked. “Or maybe…assault.”
Mark smiled. “It would never stick.”
Jessie laughed. “You’re probably right.” She took one of his hands in his, her lighthearted mood evaporating. She searched his eyes. “I know this is bigger than what you’ve done before, but do you think there’s a chance we can stop this?”
Mark took in the extra security around the park, thought of all the teams in place and what he knew of the plan. “Jim’s got everything covered, as far as I can tell. It’s just a matter of spotting the gunmen before they start shooting.” He sighed and added, “I hope.”
