Wu swore. “Are any uniforms with you yet?”
She glanced around. “They’re all across the street, redirecting traffic and evacuating the courthouse. See if some of them can respond over here to surround Foley Square while I keep him occupied. Make sure they know about the poison in the umbrella.”
She turned back to the suspect as Wu repeated her words to someone else. An instant later, Umbrella Man squeezed into the group and disappeared from her line of sight.
Rushing forward, she wedged her way through the cluster of children and arrived at the subway entrance. There was no trace of him aboveground, so she arrived at the only logical conclusion. “Alert Transit,” she said to Wu, referring to the Metropolitan Transit Authority. “He’s gone down into the subway.”
She started down the concrete stairs, inadvertently pushing people against the metal railing in the middle. Several of them, clearly assuming she was merely late to catch her train, shouted suggestions that she do anatomically impossible things.
She reached the bottom of the stairs and raced to a row of turnstiles with rotating metal partitions that resembled vertical cages. As she pulled out her yellow MetroCard and passed it over the reader, it occurred to her that Umbrella Man must have planned his escape in advance. He had probably figured on walking away rather than being chased, but he had been prepared for any contingency. She pushed through the turnstile, trying to guess his next move.
She turned right and ran down another set of stairs, then pivoted left and sprinted through a long tunnel. The rumble of the trains overhead competed with the hubbub of people striding purposefully along the beige tiled floors.
At the end of the tunnel, she faced another decision. Going straight would take her to the platform for the 4, 5, and 6 trains going uptown and to the Bronx. Another passageway to her right led to the downtown and Brooklyn trains.
Which way had Umbrella Man gone? A thundering clatter told her the downtown train was pulling in. Unwilling to risk missing him, she ran down a short hallway and up to the platform. She arrived in time to hear the two-tone chime sound and see the doors close.
“The number five just pulled away,” she said to Wu.
When a long row of silver cars passed, she looked across the tracks at the uptown platform, where another train had pulled in.
“I’d rather not shut down the whole system, Vega,” Wu said. “Was he on the five headed downtown?”
A tall man in a trench coat stepped inside the train on the opposite platform. He had a black foldable umbrella in his hand.
“No,” she said. “I have eyes on him now. He’s on the number six heading uptown.”
“Can you get over there?”
She had guessed wrong, and he was about to get away. “I can’t,” she said. “The train is leaving.”
The man looked out the window, and their eyes locked as the doors slid shut.
A slow smile crept across his face as the train whisked Umbrella Man away.
CHAPTER 2
An hour later, Dani peered at SAC Wu through her hazmat suit’s face shield. By the time transit police had intercepted the subway train, it had pulled into the Spring Street station two stops up from the Brooklyn Bridge–City Hall stop where she had last seen the suspect. She had responded to help them check each passenger, but none had been Umbrella Man, which meant he must have gotten off at Canal Street, the stop before. She knew the NYPD was reviewing video feeds to confirm this and to figure out which way he’d gone after leaving the platform, but for now he had slipped through her fingers.
Once her eyes were no longer needed in the subway, Wu informed her that no device or suspicious package had been located in the courthouse and directed her to join him at Lafayette and Worth, where the man in the business suit had died on the sidewalk.
Police had cordoned off the area and erected barriers around the crime scene to prevent gawkers, while evidence techs went about their work. Dani and Wu stood at a distance. From her vantage point several yards away, Dani noticed a large carton of Starbucks coffee with a broken spout lying in a puddle of aromatic brown liquid that had pooled on the sidewalk where the victim must have dropped it when he collapsed.
“He must have been on his way to a meeting,” she said to Wu. “By now someone’s noticed he never showed. Has he been ID’d yet?”
“I’m supposed to hear from the PD shortly.” Wu gestured toward the crowd beyond the perimeter tape. “Some people managed to get video before we got the barrier up. It won’t be long before his name is common knowledge.”
She followed his gaze. “Right now, everyone seems more worried about the hazmat response.”
“I know our suits are scaring the public,” Wu said to her through his face shield. “But based on your observations and those of other witnesses, we can’t take any chances until we know what killed this man.”
She had not come into contact with the victim and therefore was spared the necessity of precautionary decontamination procedures and medical screening. The others who had attempted to render first aid were now undergoing a battery of tests in an isolated ward at the hospital.
“Then you agree with me that this was no ordinary mugging and that the bomb threat in the courthouse was a diversion,” she said to Wu, baiting the hook. When he nodded, she pressed her advantage. “NYPD has primary jurisdiction on a homicide within city limits, but I think you should push to have this case investigated jointly with them through the JTTF.”
She had made her play. The FBI had partnered with the NYPD to create the first Joint Terrorism Task Force in 1980. The group brought in members from local state and federal agencies to combat terrorism. Consisting of investigators, analysts, SWAT experts, intelligence personnel, military liaisons, and others, the model had proved so successful that its mission had spread to include international and domestic terrorism and had been replicated in more than a hundred cities nationwide.
The task force had been her first assignment after leaving the military, the US Army having sharpened her innate talent for pattern recognition to a fine edge, training her in cryptanalysis and international counterintelligence before she had successfully earned a spot in one of its most elite regiments. When she’d ended her tour of service with an honorable discharge, the Bureau had put her hard-won skills to good use.
“You think the murder was terrorism related?” Wu said.
She lifted a shoulder. “We’ll know more when we learn who the victim was and what he was up to, but when was the last time you heard of someone being taken out with a toxin concealed in an umbrella?”
Wu’s expression darkened. “Sounds like spycraft.” He glanced over her shoulder, and she turned to see a tall man in a hazmat suit approaching. “Here comes Flint. He promised to loop me in as soon as he learned something about the victim.”
She took in what little of his face she could see, which consisted of penetrating pale-blue eyes under sandy-blond brows. “Who’s Flint?” she asked.
“Detective first grade assigned to the Major Case Squad out of One Police Plaza,” Wu said. “The NYPD is taking this case damn seriously. Mark Flint is one of their best.”
Dani had met only NYPD personnel assigned to the JTTF. Flint worked out of police headquarters, so she was curious to hear that Wu had run across him prior to today’s murder case.
Aware of the distinction Flint’s rank and assignment conveyed, she respectfully introduced herself when he approached, noting the firm grip of his handshake and the somber expression in his eyes behind the clear shield.
He checked to be sure no one was within earshot before responding. “We got a positive ID on the vic,” he said in a heavy Brooklyn accent. “Name’s Nathan Costner.” He dropped his voice. “Chief of staff for Senator Sledge.”
Dani struggled to make sense of the new information. Thomas Sledge was the senior US senator from New York, one of the most powerful elected officials in the country.
“Sledge has several offices around the state,” Flint went on. “His Manhattan location is right down Worth Street. Looks like Costner stopped to get coffee for a morning staff meeting on his way in.”
Wu blew out a sigh hard enough to fog his face shield. “Senator Sledge’s involvement changes everything.” He hesitated as if considering his next words. “Such a high-profile target could be part of a larger conspiracy.”