The Sixth Man (Sean King & Michelle Maxwell 5)

Michelle’s gaze swept the area. She said, “Looks to be over a hundred thousand people out here at least.”

“At least,” agreed Sean.

“A hundred and sixty-nine thousand,” corrected Roy.

Sean glanced down. “How do you know that? Don’t tell me you counted everyone?”

“No. But I’ve seen enough grids of the Mall in my work with the E-Program. It’s a top target of terrorists. You can determine the number of people by how many grids are full.”

“Regardless, it’s still a lot of people,” said Michelle.

“And potentially a lot of casualties,” added Sean in a worried tone.

* * *

James Harkes was standing in probably the best observation post on the Mall: at the top of the Washington Monument with a pair of stellar optics. He surveyed the people down below and then made a call.

Mason Quantrell was on his Boeing Dreamliner coming back from a meeting in California. He answered before the first ring had finished.

“Status?” he asked eagerly.

“The Mall is filling up. I have a prime post. All the players are in place or soon will be. When will you be on the ground?”

“Three hours and twenty minutes.”

“I hope to have good news to welcome you with, sir.”

“Not that you need a reminder, but you pull this off, there’s fifty million dollars waiting for you, tax free. And I’ll throw in another ten million as a bonus. You’ll never have to work another day in your life.”

“I appreciate that, Mr. Quantrell. More than you know.”

“Good luck, Harkes.”

As Harkes clicked off he thought, None of this will be about luck.

He made another call.

This too was answered on the first ring.

Ellen Foster was at her home sitting on her bed. She was still in her nightgown, her hair unkempt and her gut full of acid. Today was Saturday. She had had an event planned for out of town but had her people reschedule it, citing illness. Which wasn’t far from the truth. She felt quite sick.

“Harkes, how’s it going?” Her voice was high-pitched, riddled by nerves barely held in check.

“Things are coming into place. But you need to take a few deep breaths and get yourself under control.”

“Is it that obvious?”

“Unfortunately, yes.”

He heard her following his advice. One-two-three deep breaths. When she came back on the line, her voice sounded almost normal.

“Have you spotted them yet?”

“No, but I wouldn’t expect to. They have a while yet. And knowing them, they won’t show themselves a second before it’s necessary.”

“How do you know that?”

“Because if it were me, I wouldn’t either.”