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.”
A tiny smile returned to Jessie’s face. “You’re pretty remarkable, you know that?”
Surprised, Mark stepped back. “What makes you say that? I’m shaking in my boots here.”
“No, not about that. I think we’re all wound pretty tight right now. I mean that you not only are working with Jim, but you’re even praising him.”
Mark opened his mouth, but closed it without saying anything. What could he say? That holding a grudge would be pointless at the moment? Maybe later, when everyone was safe, he could resurrect the anger, but not now. Not when so many depended on their cooperation. He stuck his hands in his pockets and kicked at a pebble, sending it skittering across the street. The crowd roared, and he turned towards the field. “It’s almost time.”
Jessie nodded. “Yeah, I have to get back to my post.” Without a glance to see who was looking, she stood on her toes and kissed him. “Be careful.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
Jim returned along with four other agents. All wore varying types of Cub’s apparel, and he knew that each agent had a small arsenal on his body. It eased Mark’s mind somewhat. The game had progressed to the top of the ninth and the first out by the Milwaukee Brewers brought a huge cheer from the stands along with a trickle of fans exiting. With the Cub’s in the lead, Mark noted most of the fans leaving were Brewer fans. A thunderous cheer rose, and along with it, Mark’s heart rate. Two outs. Just one more to go and the game would be over. He glanced at his watch. Ten-fifteen. The sound of the crowd increased, and he could picture the fans all standing to ‘help’ the pitcher get the final out.
“You ready?” Jim put his phone in his pocket. “Better switch on your mic.”
“I guess so.” Mark found the button hidden in his collar and clicked it. Adrenaline flooded him, heightening his senses and he was sure that his heart thumped loud enough that the agents on the other end of the audio could hear it.
The trickle of fans became a steady stream, making it harder to pick out a man and small boy. He moved closer to the gate, aware of Jim trailing a short distance behind him. Not only was Mark trying to find the father and son, he was scanning for the terrorists as well. Without the luxury of closing his eyes to pull up their image in his head, he tried to concentrate just on the men in the age range of the father and the terrorist. He headed towards the west end of the gate, taking up one of the positions a terrorist had in his dream. If they weren’t there already, they soon would be.
He leaned against the edge of the exit, trying to look like he was waiting for someone. Jim mingled in the crowd, just a few feet away, his gait uneven as he pretended to be inebriated. He had a wide grin on his face and every few seconds, let out a whoop, as though celebrating the Cub’s win. With so many people, Mark lost track of the other four agents. He hoped they hadn’t gone far. Along the street, officers from the Chicago P.D. stood guard. The gate was really two gates separated by a brick column. Large white double doors secured the gates when closed, but now both sets were open wide.
A burst of people passed, and Mark strained to see back into the crowded concourse for the man and boy while darting looks near the gate for the gunman who would wave. A group of rowdy teens crossed in front of him and he almost missed the father and son. Just as the group jostled past, he saw the boy grin and wave at someone. He followed the child’s gaze and saw a man wearing a dark blue Cub’s hoodie standing a few feet outside the gate. The man wiggled his fingers and broke into a smile. Mark shivered at the gleam in the man’s eye and he forgot about the microphone in his collar. His sharp intake of breath must have registered with the agent on the other end because a voice in his ear asked him if he had something. He kept his eyes glued to the man. “Yeah. I have one. He’s just a few feet away.”
“Hold your position and keep him in sight. We have help coming your way.”
Jim was beside Mark in seconds. “Which one?”
Mark pointed with his chin. “The guy with the hoodie moving towards the far opening there.”
As though feeling eyes upon him, the man scanned the crowd, and zeroed in on Mark and Jim.
For the space of one breath, Mark froze, unable to look away. An instant later, all hell broke loose.
The suspect reached beneath his sweatshirt, Jim bolted towards him. Light glinted off metal. Shouts went up and bodies rushed past Mark as two agents, and a Chicago police officer joined Jim in swarming the man.
The suspect shouted in another language as he tried to break free. A voice from the left side of the gate yelled back in the same language. Mark followed the sound. “Shit. There’s the other guy!”
The second man was standing behind the other door at Mark’s gate. He’d already pulled out his weapon. The images from his dream mingled with real time, giving the moment a surreal quality. Shoving people aside, Mark cut through the people, his eyes never leaving the gun.