"We're at Broadway. Sweep east, toward us. We'll move west." She gave the latest description of the suspect and added that it was possible he lived or worked here. If so, his unique appearance meant neighbors or shopkeepers or waiters would most likely recognize him.
"If he's here because he was stalking a victim and has no other connection, well, that's something else. We'll just hope we can stumble over him before it's too late."
They disconnected and Sachs briefed the officers in front of her. She explained that they couldn't be sure who the unsub's target was, other than someone using or near an "embedded" product, which he would sabotage from his smartphone or tablet.
Sachs continued, "We don't know if he's got a firearm. But he's used a hammer in the past."
"He's the escalator killer, right?"
"That's right."
"What other kinds of products would he be targeting?"
She told them about Abe Benkoff's stove. And recalled the lengthy list of products Todd Williams had downloaded for him, those with DataWise5000s in their hearts. "Could be appliances, water heaters, kitchen things, heavy equipment, tools, maybe vehicles. Medical equipment too. But he's going for showy, to get attention. If you see something that could scald or crush you to death, assume it's got a controller in it and our unsub's about to push the button."
"Jesus," one of the officers whispered. "Your wife and kids're in the kitchen baking cookies? And the stove could blow up?"
"That's it. Let's get started."
As they began to sweep west, one officer muttered, "Wonder why he picked this area."
The answer was obvious to Sachs. Here were hundreds of stores, restaurants and entertainment venues, all presided over by towering high-definition video billboards, bullying or enticing passersby and tourists to spend, spend, spend...
For anyone whose agenda was assaulting consumerism, Times Square was the best hunting ground in the world.
CHAPTER 32
Canvassing.
The officers with Sachs divided into two teams, each taking a different side of the street, and were moving west.
Nothing fancy about the technique, simply asking if anyone had seen a tall thin man in a baseball cap, dark jacket and jeans, carrying a backpack. Their progress was slow. The sidewalk dense with pedestrians and vendors.
And, of course, they were watching their backs.
On the lookout for anything that might turn on them. Could he rig this car's engine to explode or catch fire? Could he command that garbage truck to lurch forward? What about the city infrastructure--a million volts and tons of superheated steam coursed inches below their feet.
Products were everywhere.
Distracting.
Sachs herself had no hits but one of the officers radioed and said he'd had a maybe--about ten minutes earlier a man fitting the unsub's description had been standing at the edge of the sidewalk, looking down at his tablet. Between Seventh and Eighth Avenues. He'd done nothing other than that; the witness--the owner of a Theater District souvenir shop--had noted him simply because of his unusual appearance.
"Any idea where he went?"
"No, ma'am," the officer said.
Looking around in frustration.
"Maybe that's a target zone. Assemble there."
In a few minutes, they'd gathered where the unsub had been spotted and continued searching. No one else had seen him. So they continued west. Slowly. Looking in restaurants, shops, cars and trucks, theaters--front and stage doors. Nothing.
Ron Pulaski called from the west end of 46th Street and reported no sightings. He and his officers were continuing east. The two search teams were about a half mile from each other now.
Moving closer to Eighth Avenue, Sachs could see a theater and across from that a large construction site. An irritating noise shot toward them on the wind--a power tool's whine. As she approached, it grew very loud, a shriek that stung her ears. She'd thought the sound was coming from the jobsite--a high-rise. There were dozens of workers welding and hammering the steel skeleton into place. But curiously, no, the sound was coming through two large open doors across the street. It was the backstage area of a theater, a workshop where a carpenter was cutting wood, presumably to assemble a set for an upcoming play. Thank goodness the workman was wearing bulky, plastic earmuffs--the sort that she wore when she went shooting. The huge scream of the circular saw could ruin unprotected eardrums. When the worker stopped cutting, she or one of the search team would ask if he'd spotted the suspect.
For the moment, though, Sachs and the officers with he