Atop the Rasmussen Building
Schmidt didn’t let down his guard as the figure in front of him rose slowly. Rossi, on the other hand, relaxed ever so slightly as the figure started to turn and he could see that the man was apparently unarmed. Neither, however, was prepared for what came next. As the man disappeared and the spiders fell to the ground and began scurrying for cover, both men froze momentarily.
“Damn it!” Schmidt rose from his knee in a scramble, gun raised above his head and immediately began stamping on the rooftop in front of him as spiders came at him. Rossi simply watched in horror. Suffering from arachnophobia, he froze until Schmidt yelled. Trying to stifle his fear, he watched as Rossi stomped, seeing nothing squish beneath his feet.
“What the …”
As the sounds of shots rang out, both men hesitated, then ran to the side of the building and stared down at the front of the chapel. It was hard for them to tell just what had happened. All they saw were figures on the ground, a circle of police around them and the maddened crowd across the street beginning to stampede like a herd of frightened cattle.
[hr]
Outside the Doors of St. Christophers Chapel …
Immediately, Chantal could see that the crowd on the far side of the police cordon had swelled in number; almost doubled in fact. Eyes still scanning the crowd, she hardly noticed as Marilyn came up between both she and her father and placed a hand on both her own and her grandfather’s backs. Nor did she notice as her father gently released her hand, and stroked his granddaughter’s cheek, so focused was she on looking for anything out of the norm.
From amidst the crowd across the street, Fisher unobtrusively scanned the crowd as well, listening through his comm link as reports from his agents and the police Captain in charge of Security came in. Glancing worriedly at the front of the Chapel, all he could see was the perfect tableau for inviting trouble. Chantal, with Marks and Coons to her left; her father and niece slightly to her right flanked by two other members of her security detail; her niece’s escort slightly behind her niece, and the President and Hayes just exiting the Chapel with the President’s Security Detail. Granted, there was a definite police presence all over the stairs, but …
Bob Coons caught a bright flash of white out of the corner of his eye just as he heard three, four, maybe even five shots; he couldn’t be sure. Swinging rapidly toward Chantal, he watched as the world seemed to slow to a crawl.
Chantal’s necklace was radiating a pure white, almost blinding light. She herself was enveloped in a pulsating, rainbow-coloured, iridescent bubble. Momentarily she staggered, a shocked expression on her face, before turning ever so slowly to turn and look at her niece whose arm turned red before she crumpled to the ground. Her escort, the Colonel from Reziel, used one arm to grab Chantal’s father and pulled him to the ground so that they were both providing cover for Chantal’s niece. Paul Marks dived for Chantal, only to slip against the bubble and fall. The forehead of the agent closest to Chantal on the far side blossomed red before he fell backwards.
Only then did the shouting start and the time resume its normal pace. The President and Hayes were hurried back inside the Chapel by Security. The bubble surrounding Chantal disappeared as if it had never been there, and Marks, still on his knees, hurriedly pulled her down, covering her with his own body. At least twenty police officers ran toward the group encircling them and forming a living shield around them. Coons ran to Scythes.
“I’m fine, damn it. Let me up. Marilyn? Dad?” He could hear the panic in her voice.
“Stay down. Marks, don’t let her move. I’ll check.” Within two steps he was kneeling beside the Colonel, who was obviously reluctant to let him take a closer look at Chantal’s niece. Shaking his head, he didn’t force it.
“Mr. Aisles? You alright, sir?” Chantal’s father, slightly winded, nodded, reached over, and spoke to his granddaughter, grimacing as he saw the blood on her arm.
“Marilyn? Marilyn, are you alright?”
Extremely pale, Marilyn looked first at her grandfather and then at the Colonel, speaking extremely slowly, obviously in shock. “I think I’ve been shot, but it went right through the fleshy part of my arm. Nothing feels broken, not like it did when I broke things as a kid horse-back riding. Lach, it doesn’t even hurt. Why is that? Papa, I’m alright. What about Chantal?”
Marks called out calmly, “Not a scratch.”
Coons nodded, remaining on his knees beside the Colonel. “We need to get everyone inside the Chapel, sir. Can you carry her?”
As Coons and Marks glanced around, the third remaining agent shook his head when he caught Coons’ eyes. He’d already placed some kind of cloth over the fourth agent’s head.
“Four shots, sir. I’m almost certain I heard four shots. But none of them hit either the lady or Radcliffe. Something … it … it was like shrapnel, sir.”
[hr]
From across the street, Fisher had a tough time describing what happened next. He couldn’t be certain if he’d heard three shots or four, but in the ensuing confusion it didn’t matter. Everything had happened far too quickly. He’d caught sight of a white glow, a rainbow of colour and then the swarm of officers surrounded everyone on the Chapel stairs. Unfortunately the crowd, too, had heard the shots. As people around him starting pushing and yelling, he held on to his comm link, pushing his way through to the front of the cordon where a police officer helped him through the barricades. Motioning the officer to be quiet, he listened to the chatter on his link as the Captain approached.
“Mr. Fisher?” The urgency in the Captain’s voice was unmistakable.
Again waving for silence, Fisher pointed to his ear and held up a finger, signalling for the Captain to wait a moment.
After a couple of minutes, an ashen-faced Fisher addressed the Captain. “What’s the story?”
“We found two additional snipers dressed as Marines on the roofs of two other buildings. My men took them both out before they had a chance to fire. No idea where they came from. No I.D., all identifiable markings on the uniforms removed, and nothing else to go on. The Vice President’s niece has been shot, no details on severity and one of your Security guys is gone. Sir, I’ve no idea if we’ve got them all. We don’t have the shooter. There are twenty other officers scouring the roof-tops, but they’ve no idea if there’s one guy out there or more than that around. Profer! He, they … who knows … are probably already gone. Point is that we can’t be certain. My guys at the Chapel are saying that those weren’t ordinary rounds that took out your guy. Something strange went on, and I’m getting three or four different versions. What do you want us to do from here?”
Fisher stood silent for only a second. “Move everyone inside the Chapel until the area is secure. I don’t care how long it takes. Question everyone on duty at the Chapel. I’m getting strange stories, too. We’ll need more officers for …”
The Captain glanced behind Fisher at the still milling crowd and the few trampled victims, police officers moving amongst them, and spoke grimly. “Already taken care of, sir. They were only a block away.”