interested in Wurth’s answer.
The deputy director looked from Maggie to Kunze then to Senator Foster who continued to sip his martini but raised an eyebrow to show that he, too, was waiting for the response.
“Right now they think the explosions were confined to the third floor. But the day after Thanksgiving the place was packed. Estimates are anywhere from 150,000 to 200,000 people inside. Depending on the detonation power inside each backpack…” Wurth shrugged—his best guess was as good as theirs. “We don’t have a body count, if that’s what all of you are looking for. But I will tell you that early reports indicate it’s bad, very bad.”
CHAPTER
18
Mall of America
A sante had missed his opportunity. He hated loose ends.
He watched the young woman escape his reach and wedge herself even further inside a mob that pressed tight against each other as they swarmed to get out the mall exit closest to them. Asante didn’t recognize the young man who waved at her. It wasn’t Dixon Lee.
Here on the first floor, cops in uniform with rifles yelled at people to get their hands up. The cops wore Kevlar vests and blue jeans, their badges in plain view, strapped to their arms or thighs. They tried to cut a path through a swarm of shoppers at the side entrance for firefighters and paramedics to enter.
Real paramedics.
Asante resisted the urge to pluck off his own cap and stuff it into the duffel bag. Instead he left it on, parroting the cops, telling people to get out of his way. Only Asante headed the opposite direction. He hurried for the back service exit for a second time in the last hour, walking quickly, not rushing, shouldering past one throng of people and cutting through another. The service exit wasn’t marked so no one crowded toward it. He slipped out the heavy door. The alarm that he had dismantled earlier remained silent though it wouldn’t have mattered now with the chorus of alarms and whistles and screams.
He dodged behind the set of Dumpsters until he got a good look around. Then he allowed his cap to add confidence to his stride across the parking lot. There was too much chaos for anyone to pay attention to him. The snow came down heavier now. The wind had picked up. The weather became an unexpected bonus.
Before Asante reached the car, he flipped on his headset and punched several numbers into the computer strapped to the inside of his arm.
In seconds came a voice, this time a female voice, calm and ready. “Yes?”
Asante used the computer screen’s touchpad to continue his task.
“I’m downloading two photos,” Asante said as he ripped off a glove and glided a finger over the computer’s touch screen. He had taken quick pictures with his cell phone while on the escalator.
“The woman may have been with Carrier #3 earlier,” Asante continued. “That must be how she ended up with his signal.”
He tapped the keyboard and touched through the menu to send the photos, his fingers expertly knowing what to do without hesitation. “I want you to tell me who both of them are. Find out everything you can. Start with the woman. I want all the basics: credit cards, driver’s license, pass-port, home mortgage, prescriptions, parents, siblings…all of it.”
“No problem.”
“I’ll let you know when and what photos to release as planned.”
“Consider it done. Anything else?”
“I have a flight to catch. I need Danko to continue tracking Carrier #3’s GPS signal.” A quick stroke brought up that computer screen that showed the GPS signal. It appeared to be stuck back inside the mall. He climbed into his car and took in the scene across the street, wondering if perhaps he could still finish her out here.
“Sir, I may be able to do better than that.”
“Excuse me?”
“I have the most recent text messages from that signal right in front of me. I can tell Danko exactly where the subject is headed.”
Of course. How could he have forgotten. He smiled. This
The deputy director looked from Maggie to Kunze then to Senator Foster who continued to sip his martini but raised an eyebrow to show that he, too, was waiting for the response.
“Right now they think the explosions were confined to the third floor. But the day after Thanksgiving the place was packed. Estimates are anywhere from 150,000 to 200,000 people inside. Depending on the detonation power inside each backpack…” Wurth shrugged—his best guess was as good as theirs. “We don’t have a body count, if that’s what all of you are looking for. But I will tell you that early reports indicate it’s bad, very bad.”
CHAPTER
18
Mall of America
A sante had missed his opportunity. He hated loose ends.
He watched the young woman escape his reach and wedge herself even further inside a mob that pressed tight against each other as they swarmed to get out the mall exit closest to them. Asante didn’t recognize the young man who waved at her. It wasn’t Dixon Lee.
Here on the first floor, cops in uniform with rifles yelled at people to get their hands up. The cops wore Kevlar vests and blue jeans, their badges in plain view, strapped to their arms or thighs. They tried to cut a path through a swarm of shoppers at the side entrance for firefighters and paramedics to enter.
Real paramedics.
Asante resisted the urge to pluck off his own cap and stuff it into the duffel bag. Instead he left it on, parroting the cops, telling people to get out of his way. Only Asante headed the opposite direction. He hurried for the back service exit for a second time in the last hour, walking quickly, not rushing, shouldering past one throng of people and cutting through another. The service exit wasn’t marked so no one crowded toward it. He slipped out the heavy door. The alarm that he had dismantled earlier remained silent though it wouldn’t have mattered now with the chorus of alarms and whistles and screams.
He dodged behind the set of Dumpsters until he got a good look around. Then he allowed his cap to add confidence to his stride across the parking lot. There was too much chaos for anyone to pay attention to him. The snow came down heavier now. The wind had picked up. The weather became an unexpected bonus.
Before Asante reached the car, he flipped on his headset and punched several numbers into the computer strapped to the inside of his arm.
In seconds came a voice, this time a female voice, calm and ready. “Yes?”
Asante used the computer screen’s touchpad to continue his task.
“I’m downloading two photos,” Asante said as he ripped off a glove and glided a finger over the computer’s touch screen. He had taken quick pictures with his cell phone while on the escalator.
“The woman may have been with Carrier #3 earlier,” Asante continued. “That must be how she ended up with his signal.”
He tapped the keyboard and touched through the menu to send the photos, his fingers expertly knowing what to do without hesitation. “I want you to tell me who both of them are. Find out everything you can. Start with the woman. I want all the basics: credit cards, driver’s license, pass-port, home mortgage, prescriptions, parents, siblings…all of it.”
“No problem.”
“I’ll let you know when and what photos to release as planned.”
“Consider it done. Anything else?”
“I have a flight to catch. I need Danko to continue tracking Carrier #3’s GPS signal.” A quick stroke brought up that computer screen that showed the GPS signal. It appeared to be stuck back inside the mall. He climbed into his car and took in the scene across the street, wondering if perhaps he could still finish her out here.
“Sir, I may be able to do better than that.”
“Excuse me?”
“I have the most recent text messages from that signal right in front of me. I can tell Danko exactly where the subject is headed.”
Of course. How could he have forgotten. He smiled. This
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