Page 97 of At Midnight Comes the Cry
“You don’t need to be a soldier to play that trick.” Paul tapped the NYDEC patch on his shoulder. “Every hunter knows how to use a lure.”
Patten scrubbed his face with both hands, mumbling something that was either a prayer or a curse. “Okay. Okay.” He shook his head. “We can’t leave the mall without clearing it. You go. I’ll try to get some staties over there. If you see anything, don’t waste time contacting me, go straight to nine-one-one.” He looked at their motley crew and shook his head. “Good luck. And Van Alstyne? I hope to hell you’re wrong.”
7.
Hadley had the sensation of being caught in a time loop when Paul parked in the same space she and the chief has used weeks ago, when they had first visited the state AG’s office. There weren’t as many vehicles scattered through the underground lot as there had been then, but it seemed like a large number for Sunday. A worryingly large number.
“What about the parking garages?” she asked Yíxin, as they paused for everyone to get out of Reverend Clare’s car. “A couple bombs in here…”
Paul looked around. “God. Think of all the gas tanks going up.”
Yíxin shook her head. “The lots are too far away. I mean, yeah, it would be hell on the cars, and maybe some structural damage, but they wouldn’t be hurting any of the government offices.”
The chief, Reverend Clare, and Flynn headed toward them. Yíxin pointed at an exit sign at the end of the next row of cars. “Follow me, everybody.”
“You’re sure it’s the fastest way?” Paul was clearly scouting out other exits.
“I work here six days a week, Firefly, I know what I’m doing.”
“Six days? That sucks.”
Yíxin clenched her fists like a weightlifter. “You gotta grind if you want to get anywhere.”
Paul shook his head. “The only grinding I like to do is my coffee beans.”
“You’re a failure as a millennial. Have you even caused the death of some well-loved industry?”
They emerged into cold air and a dimming sky. To their right, the museum squatted in all its cement glory, looking for all the world like a cross between a giant alien mothership and a harmonica. Ahead of them, the massive towers loomed, a row of tombstones for giant and unloved kings.
“I remember visiting here in eighth grade.” Flynn’s voice, directly behind her, felt like pricking on her skin. “It reminded me of the Gates of Mordor.”
“Let’s not drag our feet.” The chief strode past her. “We don’t have much time left.”
Reverend Clare caught his arm and stopped him, turning away from the plaza. Toward the west. She held out her arm, displaying the watch she always wore. “Four thirty. The sun’s gone down.”
They all fell silent for a moment. Hadley found herself holding her breath as if she could stop time; listening, listening. All she could hear was the whoosh and drone of traffic in the streets around them.
“Were we wrong?” Flynn’s voice was frustrated.
“Maybe. And maybe they don’t have as strict a timeline as religious ceremonies do.” The chief turned back toward the plaza. “We’ll find out one way or another.”
Across the four-laned street, the Madison Avenue entrance was markedCLOSED, its doors blocked with safety cones, so they headed for the plaza. At the far end, Hadley could see skaters gliding and circling on the rink—a reflecting pool come summer. The enormousstate Christmas tree nearby added a touch of cheer to the concrete wasteland.
“Oh,that’sdifferent!” Yíxin pointed toward the massive staircase rising ponderously from the plaza to the museum entrance. At its foot, a large wooden menorah had been erected facing the tree across the plaza. “It wasn’t there yesterday.”
The presence of a crane, parked to the side and waiting for workers to return on Monday, seemed very slapdash to Hadley. “Is this official?” She turned to Clare. “You talked to the rabbi.”
“I don’t know. Nobody’s here, but you don’t have to light the menorah right at sunset. Lots of families wait until it’s gotten dark.”
Flynn jogged toward the structure. He knocked on the square wooden base, then pressed the sides between his hands. He looked up to the geometric branches.
“Well?” the chief asked.
Flynn rejoined them. “It’s not the best carpentry I’ve ever seen, but it’s solid. I can’t imagine getting any of the IEDs inside.”
The blast of moist heat as they went through a nearby bank of glass doors was a welcome break from the increasing cold. Others had joined them—not a huge number, but Hadley could tell something was going on even if she hadn’t already learned about the Hanukkah celebration. Even across two flights of stairs and through the second set of glass doors leading into the concourse, she could hear music and the buzz of voices.
“Here for the Hanukkah party?” A young bearded man greeted them as they entered the concourse. He looked at her and blinked, before bursting into a gleaming smile. “Can I help you?”
