if she’s the second coming of Michael Jackson.”

“If Swift’s concert isn’t the target, striking at the heart of American culture during an NFL game would also yield prime results for Fazil,” Paxton said.

“Please, Mr. Paxton. The Jets and the Bills? Nobody is watching that dumpster fire of a game.”

“So instead Al Hasib will concentrate their efforts on sabotaging a parade that likely ninety-nine percent of Americans don’t even know exists—and that’s being generous.”

“I’ll bet ninety-nine New Yorkers don’t even know about it,” Justin Frazier chimed in.

“But it might be more popular this year,” Alex said. “It says in your report that the grand marshal is presidential candidate James Peterson.”

“And that’s exactly why we can’t shut it down, even if we wanted to,” Paxton said.

“Does Peterson know about the threat?” Alex asked. “I’m sure he wouldn’t mind hearing about it from someone.”

Hawk watched as Frazier and Paxton communicated with glances at each other, though neither saying a word.

“Why do I get the feeling there’s something else going on you’re not telling me?” Hawk asked.

Paxton crossed his arms and leaned back in his chair. “There are some things we’re just not at liberty to discuss with you.”

“If we’re going to catch Fazil before he strikes, you need to tell me everything,” Hawk said.

“Can’t do it,” Paxton said. “It’d jeopardize the entire operation.”

“So this is just part of an operation ?” Hawk asked as he shook his head in disbelief. “What are you guys doing? I imagine this means you knew Fazil was coming here but you let him in anyway. Who are you trying to catch here? A terrorist or someone else?”

“Look, Mr. Hawk, I appreciate your vigilance in wanting to apprehend Karif Fazil before he kills hundreds—”

“Thousands,” Hawk corrected.

“Okay, thousands of innocent Americans. But our past decisions about why we did what we did is of little relevance at this point to you.”

“It’s actually very relevant,” Hawk said as he narrowed his eyes. “If you want this blood-thirsty terrorist caught, you can’t leave me in the dark about anything. Need I remind you that innocent lives are at stake? And you need my help to avoid another tragedy.”

“I promise to share all the pertinent information with you, Mr. Hawk,” Paxton said. “And I promise that you’ll understand our reasons later, but for now, you’re going to have to trust me.”

“Then I suggest you trust me, too, and cancel the Veteran’s Day parade,” Hawk said.

“We can’t,” Frazier said, leaning forward as he interjected. “Peterson won’t have it. He’ll see this as some political revenge by Noah Young for accusing him of live streaming a meeting with a Russian ambassador.”

“You’re going to allow this event to take place even though it’s a likely target for Fazil?” Hawk asked. His jaw fell agape after he finished.

“Right now, the bureau can’t afford to wade into the waters of some political game. We need to maintain the public’s trust that we’re an objective government agency.”

Hawk sat back down and stacked the document on the table in front of him. “If the public finds out that you didn’t cancel the parade for political reasons, you’re not going to have a shred of the public’s trust moving forward.”

“That’s a chance we’re willing to take, Mr. Hawk,” Paxton said. “Now I think we need to stop debating something that’s not to happen regarding the parade and focus on what we can do to stop this.”

“What are you doing in the way of facial recognition?” Alex asked.

“Good question,” Paxton said. “Let me get one of my agents in here who’s overseeing that part of the operation.”

As he got up, the door swung open, and a woman carrying a tablet entered the room.

“I apologize for interrupting, sir,” she said, “but you need to see this.”

“What is it?” Paxton asked as he reached for the tablet.

“Our facial recognition software is going berserk. We’ve had more than a hundred hits on Karif Fazil in the last hour. And unless he’s got some superhuman speed and is racing back and forth across the city, there’s a major problem.”

“Why don’t you put this on the monitors so everyone can see,” Paxton said.

The woman complied, and the hits of Karif Fazil’s face populated a map of the city along with the time that it occurred. His image was clustered around a handful of city blocks.

“Where is this?” Hawk asked.

Alex glanced at her notes. “It’s all along the parade route for tomorrow.”

“He’s just messing with you—or making a practice run,” Hawk said.

Paxton closed his eyes and sighed as he shook his head. “We’re still not canceling the parade.”

“Then we’re going to have a big problem tomorrow at the parade—and an even bigger mess to clean up,” Hawk said.

“Let’s just keep working,” Paxton said. “We’re all smart enough to figure out a way to stop this madman.”

“From what I’ve found, tracking terrorists across the Middle East, when someone is desperate and determined, your odds of success aren’t good,” Hawk said.

“But there’s still a chance, right?” Paxton asked.

Hawk shrugged. “It’s possible.”

“Then find a way to catch this guy before he does something we’ll all regret.”

CHAPTER 29

New York City

JAMES PETERSON SLIPPED into the backseat of the convertible before looking up at the gray New York sky. The cloud cover combined with the looming buildings made for a dark day. Jamming his hands into his coat pockets, Peterson shivered and scanned the staging area for the Veterans Day parade.

“Is anybody even going to attend this thing today?” Peterson asked his campaign advisor, who had his head buried in his notes.

“Absolutely, sir. It’s going to be packed. The campaign offices here have done a great job of getting the word out about the event. The footage will look fantastic on television later tonight.”

Peterson glanced at his watch and cracked his knuckles. “What time are we going to get started? I thought we would be moving by now.”

“Patience, sir. We have a few more minutes before we leave. And I believe we’re also waiting on your

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