“Crystal,” Blayne said.
“Where are you?” Ethan asked.
“We’re around.”
Almost immediately, they started hearing police chatter in their ears.
“Wow, this is going to take some getting used to,” Blayne said.
“If it gets too much, just tap your ear twice. That will cut the local channel chatter,” Denzili’s voice said in Blayne’s head. “It takes some getting used to.”
“Thanks,” Ethan said.
“Yeah, this is freaky,” Blayne said, turning his head toward Ethan’s voice but realizing that it was the earpiece he turned toward, not the actual person.
“It’s called localization,” Ethan explained. “We had to get used to earpieces at concerts. Trust your eyes and not necessarily your ears.”
“Okay,” Blayne said, not really convinced. “We better get back to the guys.”
Ethan took hold of Blayne’s hand and looked into his eyes. “We’ve got this.”
* * * *
Dr. Hennigan
Dr. Hennigan had spent the morning poring over the layout of the Pennington University Quad. There were too many places where someone could hole in a sniper’s nest. They’d checked the roofs of Jordan Hall to the east of the Pavilion, the K. G. Johnson building to the northeast and the Ann Richards Arts and Sciences Building to the immediate north. Mostly, they found the FBI on those rooftops, so they at least had those vantage points covered. Admittedly, there were many windows in each of those buildings, but the FBI was already doing a floor-by-floor check.
“Richardson,” she said, confident that the other woman would hear her. “When was the last check done on the tower?”
“Ten minutes ago. The museum is still locked up tight.”
In the debriefing after their surveillance the night before, Denzili and Richardson had informed her that the tower was securely locked. The tower’s base was a square building that served as a small museum. Access to the tower was only through the museum. You could access the tower’s entrance, but it was padlocked shut. The bridge was a bridge to nowhere. It rose over the museum and went around the tower, but there were no entrances from the bridge. The architectural design of this place made no sense. Why build a tower, encase it in a museum structure, then construct a bridge that served no purpose other than to pass over the museum? Someone was either high when they drew up these plans or was too rich for their own good and was like, “Build me a bridge!”
“Agent Murphy,” Hennigan said through her earpiece. “I see you’re monitoring the buildings. Have you observed anything?”
“Who is this? This channel is reserved for official FBI personnel only,” Sarah replied.
“You’ll notice that no one around you can hear us,” Hennigan mentioned. She walked through the crowd, holding her cell phone discreetly in her hand to avoid drawing attention.
“Who is this?”
“It’s your new friend. How quickly you forget.”
“Hennigan?”
“Who else would it be?”
“Leave me alone,” Murphy responded firmly. “I have enough to handle without you talking in my head.”
“I’ll only contact you from this point forward if I need something or have intelligence. Overall, your surveillance approach is the same as I would have taken.”
“We know what we’re doing,” Murphy replied.
“Take the compliment.”
Hennigan switched channels and let Denzili and Richardson know they were ready. They had plenty of eyes everywhere for whatever was going to happen over the next hour.
“Remain vigilant,” Hennigan instructed the team. “They’re here. I can feel them.”
