“If you got those stitches wet and end up with an infection, don’t come crying to me.”
Mark cast a glance over his shoulder at the bathroom door as a bubble of wild laughter escaped his mouth. Infection—as if he’d have to worry about that, and the stitches were destined to get wet later in the day. His only consolation was that the bus didn’t explode. That was a better result than the first dream, but also meant he had to let the dream run its course without trying to change it.
If they did nothing, except get the police officer out of the line of fire, and let the rest of the dream play out, nobody else would die. Gingerly, he toweled his head, not bothering to comb his hair. He just ran his fingers through the wet strands instead.
His dad had included a toothbrush in the bundle, and Mark was grateful for it, absurdly concerned about not wanting to die with un-brushed teeth. Maybe his mother’s lectures growing up had etched into his psyche. Clean underwear was another prerequisite, and he was glad for that too, not that anyone was likely to notice clean teeth and underwear on a corpse. Would his body be bloated when they found it? Closing his eyes, he forced the thoughts to the back corner of his mind, locking them away. Mark finished in the bathroom, tossing his borrowed sweats in Jim’s hamper, and went to the kitchen. Before he entered, he took a deep breath and did his best to appear calm although inside, his emotions were a mess.
The smell of frying eggs and bacon made his stomach growl and despite thinking he wouldn’t be able to eat a thing, he was ravenous. As a last meal, he could do worse.
His dad stepped away from the stove and pushed a plate in front of him. “Eat up. I’m not the greatest chef, but I’ve been told I can make a mean fried egg, and you can’t save the world on an empty stomach.”
Mark took the plate as emotion tightened his throat. He managed a strangled, “Thanks, Dad.”
His father shot him a sharp look before turning back to the stove.
Jim entered the kitchen, cell phone pressed to his ear, his attention focused on the conversation for a few seconds before he finished the call and slid the phone into his suit coat pocket. He glanced at Mark as he passed on the way to the coffee maker. “Tell me about this new dream.” He took a mug out and held up a second in Mark’s direction, his eyebrows raised in a silent offering.
Mark nodded and noticed his father already had a mug in one hand while he wielded the spatula in the other.
After pouring the coffee, Jim handed Mark a mug and sat at the table. He pulled a notepad from his breast pocket, clicked a pen, and held it poised over the notepad. “I got your notes from the first dream, so now tell me about the second.”
Mark took a bite of his breakfast. The egg yolk was rich and creamy, the salt from the bacon adding a nice complement. It was the best egg he’d ever eaten and he wished he could eat it in peace. He dipped a corner of his toast into a puddle of bright yellow yolk and took another bite, both stalling and taking the time to savor the meal. He washed it down with a swallow of hot, strong coffee. His attention fully on his plate, he shrugged. “Not much to tell. The bus was there again. This time, it went into the lake.”
Jim’s coffee cup clanked onto the table. “What do you mean, it went into the lake? Before or after it blew up? Did the explosion catapult it into the lake?”
“No. It rolled into the lake when I jumped in and fought with Mo. We must have bumped the gear shift. The bus never exploded, but a police officer is shot when he threatens to give Mo a ticket for illegal parking, so you might want to warn the police away.”
Mark swiped the last yolk off the plate with his final bite of toast. “On second thought, let him make the threat. I’ll be close enough to get him out of the way, but I need Mo to open the door of the bus, and if the officer isn’t there, I’m not sure he’ll have a reason to open the door. If I’m the one who gets shot, I won’t be able to board the bus.” After he said it, the implication that he was justifying that they allow the officer to be shot, hit him like a bucket of cold water. They had to figure out a different way. “Never mind. Warn him away and I’ll figure out a way to get in.”
His dad sat opposite Mark, and began eating his own breakfast. Mark gestured to Jim. “Where are your eggs? Aren’t you eating?”
“I ate already.”
Mark’s dad snorted. “He had a granola bar. How he expects to function on rabbit food, I’ll never know.”
A smile flickered to Mark’s lips, but didn’t linger. If all went as Mark envisioned, Jim would be able to have a nice fat steak later today in celebration of saving the day. Jim might even receive a bonus for taking Mark out as well. He wasn’t going to kid himself that he’d go down in history as a hero. He was still a wanted man, had been friends with Mohommad, and would die on a bus filled with explosives. He didn’t think even Jim would be able to protest Mark’s innocence when faced with all that evidence. His biggest fear was the fallout for his parents. Somehow, he had to make sure they wouldn’t be condemned for his perceived sins. Mark set his fork down and folded his hands on top of the table, leaning forward as he tried to come up with a way to protect them. What if he left a note admitting to the guilt and asking that his parents not be blamed? Americans were forgiving. Maybe they’d feel sorry for his folks and give them a break.
Jim set his pen and paper down. “What aren’t you telling me?”
Lost in his own thoughts, Mark jumped at the sudden question, making the coffee cups rattle. “Nothing. Why?”
Arms crossed, Jim scrutinized him as though he could read Mark’s mind.
His left foot bounced several times. “What?” He glanced at his dad, who was also regarding him with suspicion. Unable to hold his dad’s gaze, he broke it off and returned his focus to Jim.
“It sounds too simple.” Jim’s eyes narrowed.
Mark shrugged, found a stray crumb on the table top and covered it with his fingertip. He circled the finger on the wood a few times, swirling it through a drop of coffee. “It is simple. I just have to be at Navy Pier this morning. A bus will pull up as if it’s going to unload students, but it just sits there instead, holding up other buses waiting to unload. A cop approaches, threatens a ticket and gets shot. I jump in the open door, confront Mo, and fight with him. Before he can blow anything up, the bus rolls right down the road and into the drink. Nothing to it.” Mark lifted his finger to find the crumb embedded in the end. He flicked it onto his empty plate.
“So, I should have help standing by in boats.”
Hope flickered in Mark, but died as he recalled how quickly the bus submerged in the water. Even if a boat arrived immediately, he wasn’t sure anyone would be able to get him out in time. Still, he nodded. “Yeah, that would be a good idea. The water’s pretty cold this time of year.” He chuckled as if he didn’t relish spending too long in the water, and silently congratulated himself for sounding calm and not overly concerned. “So, I hope my second dream doesn’t cause any problems for whatever you had planned.” Mark gave himself another pat on the back for the re-direct.
After a hard look, Jim sighed and stood, coffee mug in hand. “I’ll look like an idiot, but I can rearrange some things. Say some new information came in. This is all pretty hush-hush right now anyway and it’s not like I have what others would consider credible evidence. Mohommad’s sister’s warning is the main excuse I’m using right now since we have that conversation taped.” He took a sip of his coffee. “There are plenty of tour boats docked right there, so getting one to the bus shouldn’t present any obstacles.” He emptied the last few drops of coffee down the drain. “I did have a report about a fertilizer theft a few weeks ago, so I’m playing that up even though the case hasn’t been solved yet. It’s very possible it’s connected to this attempt since what you describe sounds like the kind of bomb used in the first World Trade Center bombing, and the Oklahoma City bombing. I’m just not sure we can cover all the bases if I don’t call in enough help.”
Jim rinsed the cup, and set it in the sink. “If I need
more manpower, I can call in a Mark Taylor sighting.” He chuckled. “Half of the Chicago police force is out looking for you. I could have them at Navy Pier in five minutes flat if I did that.”
Mark tried to laugh, but even to his own ears, it sounded forced. He’d seen alternate outcomes of the same scenario. Could there be a third? Would having police swarm Navy Pier result in an outcome that didn’t end with hundreds of people dead, or with his own death? Couldn’t there be solution that saved everyone? He opened his mouth to confess the real result of the second dream, but snapped it shut. Once he told them, there was no way they would let him play that dream out, and he knew for a fact that if everything went according to the dream, the Pier and everyone on it was saved with the exception of the police officer and himself. Mark hoped his warning would effectively prevent the officer’s death, but he couldn’t come up with a solution that would allow him to save himself while still preventing the explosion.
Chatper 25
Jim tapped the end of the pen on the notepad as he went over what Mark had recounted of the second dream. It sounded straightforward, but something was wrong. He could sense it. He might not have Mark’s power of seeing the future, but he hadn’t made it to his position without having an instinct for knowing when someone was lying to him. When interrogating a suspect, he didn’t just listen to what they said, he learned as much from their body language, how they spoke and eye contact or lack of it. Based on his observations, Mark was hiding something. He wasn’t lying, but he was withholding information and Jim was determined to find out what it was.
Noting the empty plate, he said, “It seems your nausea has passed.” He would take the indirect route to the truth.
Mark nodded. “Yeah. I feel pretty good, all things considered.” He straightened, rolling his shoulders as if to prove he was fine, but Jim caught the slight wince. A moment later, Jim felt a rhythmic vibration on the floor and knew it was probably Mark’s leg bouncing—a sure sign that something was bothering him.
“So, you feel confident that sticking to the facts in your second dream will keep the bus from exploding?”
Another nod, but Mark’s eyes only flicked to Jim’s face before his attention turned back to the dirty plate. Either he found something fascinating in the waxy smears of yolk dotted with crumbs, or he was purposefully avoiding making eye contact. Jim voted for the latter.
Gene finished his meal and gathered up his own plate and took Mark’s away as well. With nothing to study, Mark’s eyes roved the kitchen as though desperate to latch onto something just to avoid looking at Jim.
“You aren’t leveling with me about everything, but for the moment I’ll let it slide. I trust that you’ll tell me if my plan to avert the bombing won’t work because of whatever you’re withholding.” Jim decided that beating around the bush was just going to result in wasting time and that was one commodity they didn’t have. He would just have to trust Mark.
Although he finally looked directly at Jim, his eyes wide, Mark maintained his silence on the matter. Jim sighed. So much for jarring the truth out of Mark with a direct statement. It was already after eight. According to photos and Mark’s dream, the event would happen sometime before lunch. The tourist attraction didn’t open until ten, and from the photos and the number of people around, it was apparent the site was open when the bomb went off, and the shadows showed it was still before noon. That left them only an hour to come up with a plan, and another hour to get it in place before Mo and the bus arrived. Jim had already notified the Chicago P.D. to be on the lookout for the bus, but even if they spotted the vehicle, it was no guarantee that they could avoid a catastrophe. Like Mark had said, having Mohommad flee with a bus full of explosives wasn’t a best case scenario. It would be better to secure the bus at Navy Pier. The most difficult decision was whether to close the tourist spot down for the day, but if they did that, what was to stop Mohommad from going somewhere else, or coming back tomorrow or some other day?
Jim had arranged to meet his team at Navy Pier to coordinate efforts, but he couldn’t very well show up with Mark in tow. Too bad Mark had shaved the day before but if they put him in a ball cap and sunglasses, he might go unnoticed. An idea took shape. The police were looking for a man who was on the run, not a family man with a wife and kid. Jim felt sure it would work, at least for the short amount of time that they needed Mark in plain sight. Now, he just had to come up with a wife and kid to play the role.
“I think I have a way to allow you to roam around Navy Pier and not arouse suspicion. We’ll have Jessica pose as your wife—”
“No!” Mark pushed away from the table and stood all in one motion. “No way! You have to keep her out of this!”
Not expecting the outburst, Jim jerked in his chair, but otherwise maintained his composure. He had definitely struck a nerve. “She’s part of my team and beyond that, she’s the only one I, no make that, we can trust to go along with my plan without revealing your identity.”
His knuckles blanched as he gripped the top of the kitchen chair, Mark shook his head. “I don’t care. I don’t want her anywhere near Navy Pier. It’s too dangerous.”
“You don’t get a say so, Mark. She’s a Special Agent and this,” Jim stabbed the notepad with his pen, “is her job.” Why was Mark protesting so hard now, when he hadn’t before the Wrigley Field incident? What was different this time?
Mark’s mouth set in a hard line, and when his father rested his hand on his shoulder and tried to reason with him, Mark shrugged the hand off. “You don’t understand. I don’t want her there to see—“A mixture of frustration, fear and anger played over his features. He crossed his arms. “I just don’t want her there. Please.”
Jim wished he could abide by Mark’s wishes, but he couldn’t. Not unless Mark offered up a hard piece of evidence that Jessica’s presence would either jeopardize the operation, or she was in imminent danger of dying, and even then, it wasn’t a guarantee he would take her off the case. Mark would have to outright say she would be killed, and there was nothing they could do to prevent it short of keeping her away. “Tell me why, and I’ll think about it.” It was the best he could do.
“I can’t. Just trust me.” He gave the chair a hard push into the table, while his eyes reflected his anguish. With a groan, he clasped his hands behind his head, tilted his head back, eyes closed his mouth twisted as though in pain and frustration. After a moment, his hands fell limply to his sides and his shoulders sagged in defeat.
Gene sat at the table with a sigh, clearly wanting to side with his son, but as confused about Mark’s stipulation as Jim was. His fingers tapped out a rhythmic tattoo on the wooden table as his gaze darted between his son and Jim.
“By now, you must know I trust you, Mark. I wouldn’t have you hidden away here in my home if I didn’t, but lives are at stake, and I need every available person I have at my disposal. Jessica, while new to us, was hired in part because I know I can trust her implicitly. The way I see it, you had two dreams about the same event. In one dream, the bus explodes and kills an untold number of people.”
Jim flipped the page in his notebook and started pro and con lists. “We can concentrate on changing that dream by swarming the area with police and agents, stopping every bus in a mile radius and check for explosives, and also prevent any from coming near Navy Pier. Of course, that means Mohommad could just find another place to set off the explosives.” He jotted that in the ‘Con’ column. He was aware that Mark had tuned him out as he leaned against a counter, arms crossed and his gaze fixed on the opposite wall, but he continued anyway, hoping some of it would penetrate the wall Mark appeared to be constructing. “I don’t know about you, but I feel better knowing the where and the approximate when, rather than having all of that unknown.” Another addition to the ‘Pro’ column.
Mark broke off his contemplation of the wall as his eyes flicked to Jim.
Taking that for a good sign, Jim said, “Here are the problems we face—there’s no time
. I’d love to take Jessica off the case, but we’re pressed for time and manpower. That’s it. Bottom line. In fact, we’re wasting time right now.” Jim stood and tucked the notepad into his breast pocket. “Come on. We’ll finish talking in the car.”
Resignation settled over Mark’s features, but he nodded and a moment later, resolve took the place of resignation.
Gene stood. “I’ll meet you down there.”
Jim paused. It hadn’t been in his plan to have Mark’s father present during the operation, but if things didn’t go well, it might not be a bad idea to have a doctor handy, but on the other hand, he was already putting one civilian in harm’s way, but to put two from the same family would be unconscionable.
“Dad, why don’t you wait here? Or at your hotel?”
“I have to agree with your son.”
Gene glared at Mark and then turned to Jim, including him in the hostile look. “Are you going to arrest me?”
“Of course not, but let me put it this way. I can’t look out for Mark to the best of my ability if I’m worried about where you are too. I have agents and police officers to coordinate, and somehow, I have to figure out a way to get Navy Pier visitors out of harm’s way without making it obvious.”
Gene appeared as though he was going to protest, but then he grinned. “You need a diversion.”
“Excuse me?”
“It won’t work for everyone, but you can thin the crowd at the front of the Pier by having some kind of diversion at the other end. You need something that will attract as many visitors as possible, but still not arouse suspicion.”
It wasn’t a bad idea, but what could they use to divert attention?
“What about free lake tours?” Mark suggested. “Most of the boats dock on the other side of the pier.”
Mark Taylor Omnibus (The Mark Taylor Series) Page 87