CHAPTER
19
Mall of America
Bloomington, Minnesota
Nick Morrelli followed his security escort as they made their way to the front entrance of the mall. He brushed the snow off his trench coat and raked a gloved hand over his hair.
Boots. He should have brought boots.
In his rush to pack he'd forgotten boots. It hadn't been snowing in Omaha.
The escort, who had introduced himself to Nick at the airport as Jerry Yarden, insisted the snow was letting up. Made it sound like the five or six inches on the ground were no big deal to trudge through. This was Minnesota, after all.
"Should be stopping in about an hour," he told Nick.
He followed alongside Yarden, straining to keep up. Nick was almost a head taller but the little man walked briskly through the mall parking lot. That's because Jerry had boots.
Finally Nick slowed and let Yarden go ahead of him to the next police barricade. This was their third one. While Yarden flipped open his ID Nick approached with caution. By now his leather loafers were caked with snow. He was afraid he'd slip and make an ass of himself. Nick waited his turn then without a word he showed his badge and security credentials to yet another police office at the door. This one had his own badge strapped to his thigh. A two-way radio was strapped to his shoulder. He wore a black stocking cap and Kevlar vest, both with POLICE in white letters across the fronts. He held a rifle in one hand and took Nick's ID in the other, lifting it to eye level so that his head never bowed, never lost track of everything going on around him.
He looked at Nick hard, not just comparing the photo to Nick's face but almost as if he wanted to see if he could make him crack, expose any weaknesses, any deceit before Nick made it past his station. Nick wanted to tell the officer he appreciated the tough scrutiny, but to say it would insinuate that he expected something less. Instead, Nick kept quiet, accepted his credentials back with only a nod. As soon as the police officer waved Nick and Yarden through, the man's eyes were somewhere else, ready for the next threat.
Although it was believed that all the bombs had gone off on the third floor, even the first floor showed signs of the explosion. Streamers of debris hung from a huge holiday wreath. The Christmas tree in the center of the atrium was littered with bits and pieces that Nick could tell didn't belong, some shiny, some ragged.
Down here the sprinklers had not been triggered but there was a damp chill. Enough that he caught himself reaching for the lapels of his trench coat and stopping himself before he turned them up.
Off to the side, strung out in front of Macy's, two units of rescue workers barked requests and orders as they handed out blankets and tended to injured shoppers. But Nick's eyes searched above, trying to look up at the four-story atrium. Snipers, dressed in black with Kevlar vests and helmets, were stationed at the tops of the stalled escalators, weapons shouldered and ready. The overpowering smell of smoke and sulfur permeated the air. Shouts echoed down.
"We don't need to go up there," Yarden told him like he was doing Nick a favor.
Nick glanced down at the little man. Removing his stocking cap had released Yarden's large ears and sent his red hair straight up. That, and his ruddy cheeks, made him look almost like an elf. It only added to the bizarre scene.
"Our security office is down this way." Yarden pointed. "County police cordoned it off. Mr. Banoff convinced them to leave everything as is until you arrived."
"No one's looked at the tapes yet?"
Yarden shook his head. "They've had more important things to do." He stopped suddenly, turning to Nick and looking around to see if anyone was watching them. "Mr. Banoff convinced them that it's to their benefit if we sift through the tapes. It'll save time and we understand the equipment so we can pinpoint angles, views, etcetera."
Then Yarden wiggled a long, skinny index finger for Nick to come closer. "You do understand what Mr. Banoff means when he says sift, right?"
For the first time since he entered the mall Nick's stomach twisted a bit. He hated to think that his new employer was simply worried about covering his own liability at a time like this. Nick didn't answer Yarden. He simply nodded.