“Yeah, I know.” Mark closed his eyes, calling up the guy in the dream, and tried to ignore the image he’d seen already. What if what he’d seen had influenced what he saw in his head now? Could he take that chance? He looked again. It was the guy in his dream. It was a match. “It’s him.”
Jim nodded and then rattled off orders to someone behind Mark. Something about finding that man. Mark bent forward, his fingers massaging the bridge of his nose. He felt sick.
“You okay?”
Mark sat back and blew out a breath. “Yeah…just a little overwhelmed is all.”
“That’s okay. It’s a lot of responsibility.” His tone conveyed understanding and that he was no stranger to the stress involved.
“Guess I should keep looking.” Mark scrubbed his hands down his face before taking a gulp of coffee.
Jim stood and slapped him on the back as he walked past. “Good job.”
An hour later, Mark had identified three more and teams were sent off to find the men. As luck would have it, one of the suspects was already under surveillance. He and Jim went over Mark’s dream notes sentence by sentence to see if there was a scrap more they could glean from the information. Of the two men that hadn’t been identified, he was able to recall that one had waved to a little boy who had held his father’s hand as they exited the gate a minute or so before the shooting began.
“Okay, so, if you’re willing, we’ll station you with the team at that gate. If you can spot that little boy and father, it could give us an extra minute to find the guys in the crowd.”
“Yeah, sure. I’ll be there.”
Jim set his pen down on the pad of paper. “Mark, I want to make certain you fully comprehend what you’re getting into. This has the potential to be extremely dangerous. You weren’t in the photos originally, so there’s no to reason think you would have been killed in this. If you go tonight, you could change that. Do you understand?”
Mark nodded, amazed at Jim’s understanding of how the future could change based on actions they would take prior to the incident. “I’m well aware of the possible outcome.”
“Nobody will think less of you if you opt to remain at a distance.” His gaze was sincere and that alone steeled Mark’s resolve. He’d see this through to the end.
“I’m a bit out of practice, but it won’t be the first time I’ve been in bad situations. I know what the deal is.” His leg bounced and he stood to cover the reaction. “Besides, I can’t shake the feeling that I need to be there.”
Jim gathered the notes and rose. “Okay then. We’ll see if we can dig up a vest for you.”
Time simultaneously flew by and dragged. His part done for now, Mark paced the hallway, tried on a Kevlar vest, and finally, sat in a chair in Jim’s office while the other man was off doing whatever it was that still needed to be done.
He noted the lack of personal touches in the office. There were no pictures on the desk, no homemade looking paperweights like those that a child or grandchild might make. Even the mouse pad was generic. Did the guy’s life completely revolve around CIA or FBI? Mark had never wondered about Jim’s life before. For all he cared, the guy could have caught fire and Mark wouldn’t have spared the saliva to spit on him. Now, he was sitting in the guy’s office wondering if the guy had a life. He even felt a little sorry for him.
“All right. We were able to track down two of the guys.” Jim breezed into the office. “And guess what? Their car was loaded with weapons and enough ammo to mow down the whole bleacher section.”
Mark sagged in relief. This was concrete proof. No matter what else happened, lives had been saved and he had helped. Nobody would be able to deny it.
“What’s the matter? I thought you’d be thrilled.” Jim threw a puzzled look in Mark’s direction before rummaging around in his desk
“I am…it’s just that…well, I’m relieved that there’s proof now. It’s not just based on my dream and photos.”
Jim pulled out a bottle of ibuprofen and shook out a couple. He tilted the bottle towards Mark, his eyebrows raised. “I buy these in bulk.”
Mark smiled at the dry humor and took the bottle. His head pounded too. He washed down two of the pain relievers with the last dregs of his now cold coffee and made a face. It had been his third cup and the caffeine overload hadn’t helped ease the stress.
“While the two suspects in custody are questioned, we’re going to head over to the park and start scouting around. You ready to go?”
“Have you heard from Jessie?” Since they’d parted ways at the pub, Mark hadn’t spoken to her, and wondered what was going on.
Jim pulled up in front of the stadium. “Yes, she’s helping one of our teams track down a suspect who’s still at large. CPD knows the city better than we do, so having their cooperation is vital.”
He wasn’t thrilled with the idea that Jessie was out there hunting down a terrorist. She’d be pissed if she knew he was worrying. It was her job and she was good at it.
Jim pulled into the lot just outside the fenced in players’ lot. A security guard tried waving him off, but when the man approached the window, Jim flashed his badge and the guard’s demeanor changed. He directed them to a spot close to the entrance. It was still over two hours until game time, but already, the sidewalks teemed with fans. Vendors mingled, hawking banners, bobble-heads and scorecards. Down the street, sports bars overflowed with fans getting a head-start on the fun. The scent of grilled onions, hot dogs and baking pavement melded together and stirred up memories of past good times.
Mark had been to countless games and had always loved the atmosphere outside the field. He’d usually taken the El. It stopped right behind right field and it was just a short walk up Addison to the front of the park. He remembered the old donut shop that had been where a McDonald’s now stood. Winchell’s Donuts. When had that disappeared? He couldn’t recall the last time he’d seen it.
When he was a kid, his dad had brought him down to a game at least once every summer. They’d leave Madison at dawn and arrive just as the players were arriving. His dad would go buy a bag of donuts while Mark would beg autographs from the players.
“Mark…hello?” Jim waved a hand in front of Mark’s face.
Shaking his head, Mark took a step back, embarrassed to realize he’d stopped walking, and was instead, standing and daydreaming. “Sorry. I was just thinking about when I’d come here as a kid with my dad.”
“All the way from Madison?”
“Yeah. How’d you kn-” Mark broke off, remembering that this guy knew everything about him. He shoved his hands in his pockets and glanced at Jim, surprised to see the other man’s face redden.
“This is awkward.” Jim crossed his arms.
Mark kicked at a stone in the parking lot, then winced when it went further than he’d anticipated, and pinged against the undercarriage of a car. “Yeah.” He shrugged. “Anyway, even though we were in the middle of Wisconsin, we could pick up WGN on our antenna.”
“So, when was the last time you and your dad went to a game?”
Jim began walking and Mark ambled along beside him. “I can’t remember. It’s been a long time. Before college, I guess. When I dropped out, we were too angry at each other to spend much time together.”
“Angry?”
“Yeah. I was supposed to be a doctor, like him. At least, that was his plan.” They skirted a large group of teens. Once on the other side of the group, Mark sighed. “Guess things would have turned out a lot differently if I had become a doctor. I should’ve listened to him.”
“Hmmm…you never know. You’re not doing too bad at your chosen profession.”
Mark stopped walking and stared at Jim. “You’ve gotta be kidding me.”
Jim shrugged, but evaded Mark’s eyes. “Hey, I went through your financial records, you were doing well. Add to that, your other talent…”
“Talent?” Mark gave a harsh laugh. “Curse is more like it.”