Foreign Influence_ A Thriller - Brad Thor [145]
“I hope to God you’re right,” said Harvath as he radioed the other team members.
“So do I,” Chase replied under his breath.
Based on the CIA operative’s guarantee that the suicide bombers wouldn’t be able to detonate, they had decided to bring the Chicago Police Department into the plan. Plainclothes officers had been positioned where the bombers were supposed to appear and tactical teams were placed at the hotels.
With the morning rush in full swing, the streets were jammed with traffic. Even with lights and sirens, they’d never make it on time—unless they could avoid the traffic altogether.
Harvath radioed Casey and told her where to meet them. Next, he radioed the Chicago Police and then he and Chase exited the hotel and took off running faster than either of them had ever run before.
It was three long, hard blocks to the river. When they arrived, Casey and a Chicago Police boat were waiting for them. Harvath and Chase leapt in and the officer behind the wheel spun the craft into the river and put the throttle all the way down.
Casey yelled over the engine noise. “We’ve got good news and bad news. What do you want first?”
Harvath’s lungs were on fire and he could barely breathe, much less speak. He held up two fingers.
“The bad news,” yelled Casey as she pointed at a map, “is that there are basically five downtown commuter Metra stations and because of traffic, the tac teams can only get to two of them. It’ll take them at least fifteen minutes to get to the others.”
Harvath then raised one finger.
“The good news is that the Millennium and Van Buren stations are near Cooper and Rhodes. They’re the ones with tac teams who can make it, so they’ll tackle those. Ogilvie and Union Station are pretty close to the river, but La Salle Street station is a few blocks inland.”
“I’ll take La Salle,” said Chase, who was still panting.
“What’s our first drop point?” asked Harvath as he tried to steady his breathing. Casey consulted the officer piloting the boat and then said, “Ogilvie. Drop off at Madison Street and it’s a block and a half west.”
Harvath raised himself to standing. “I’ll take that one.”
“Like hell you will,” replied Casey. “I’m more rested. I’ll take it. You take Union Station. It’s the next drop and it’s right at the river. I’m not taking no for an answer.”
Harvath bowed his head and kept sucking in air.
“It’s going to be this bridge,” said the police officer as they approached. “Starboard side. Coming up fast.”
As the boat slammed up against the landing, Harvath looked at Casey and said, “Mine.” Before she could respond, he had jumped out of the boat and was running up the stairs.
She yelled out, “Klootzak,” but had no idea if he heard.
CHAPTER 74
Despite being winded, Harvath was ready to run when he got up to the street level. Then he realized how much attention he would be calling to himself and, instead, walked as quickly as he could toward the station.
Across the street, he waited for the light, sucked in as many deep breaths as he could, and fought to get his heartbeat under control.
Of all the places to try to apprehend a lone gunman, a crowded train station had to be one of the worst.
The Northeast Illinois Regional Commuter Railroad Corporation, known as Metra, served Chicago and six counties in a surrounding radius. The station was overflowing with commuters.
Harvath followed the signs and made his way to the escalators that led to the upper level where the train platforms were. He was only halfway up when the shooting began.
The people in front of him turned and began running down the up escalator. He tried to push through them, but they were panicked. Hopping over the rail onto the stairs, he fought through the masses of people and began running. The shooter was firing on full auto.
As he neared the top of the stairs, it suddenly stopped. Magazine change, thought Harvath, and he was right. Just as quickly as the shooting had stopped, it had started again.
The platforms fed out into a cavernous retail area several