Page 104 of Zero Hour

Phoenix’s voice cut through the comms. “Blue hoodie, three o’clock. About four yards from the front.”

Pat shifted his focus. A stocky man with a rucksack was waiting to gain entry. He had earphones in and was bobbing his head in tune with the music. He had a grizzly goatee and long, unwashed hair.

“Negative,” said Pat. “We’re looking for someone clean shaven. The bomber is about to meet his maker. He won’t be jamming to music.”

They kept scanning.

The crowd swelled, pressing closer. People jostled for space.

Then trouble broke out.

“Hey, do you mind?” A girl with a ponytail snapped as a man shoved in front of her. “Wait your turn.”

The guy said something back, but her boyfriend didn’t like it.

There was a shove, and then the first punch landed, and just like that, a fight broke out.

Pat moved forward. “Cole, break it up.”

Cole moved in, separating the two idiots like he was breaking up a bar fight. “Behave,” he bellowed, in a voice that would have made Pat grin under normal circumstances.

The young men nodded. “Yes, sir.”

Cole had that way about him. Given his six-feet-four height and broad frame, he was the kind of man nobody wanted to pick an argument with.

That’s when Pat saw him.

“Black hoodie, rucksack, front of the line.” He kept his voice low and steady, but his heart was slamming into his ribs.

The man had used the fight as a distraction. While security was focused on the scuffle, he’d slipped forward, just a step away from crossing into the venue.

Cole moved fast. “Excuse me, sir?”

The man didn’t react. Didn’t turn, didn’t flinch.

“Sir, come with me, please.”

Still nothing. Just eyes locked ahead, focused on the gap between the bouncers.

Cole put a hand on the man’s arm. He turned.

Clean-shaven. Sweating. Fear written all over his face.

This was him.

The man’s eyes widened. Then he bolted forwards into the venue.

“Stop him!” Pat bellowed into his comms.

Inside the gate, Special Forces operators reacted instantly, surging after the fleeing suspect. The man in the black hoodie sprinted toward the stage, weaving through the swelling crowd of fans already inside the festival grounds.

Pat and Cole took off, shoving past startled concertgoers. The suspect was fast. He never looked back, moving with the reckless determination of someone who knew this was his only mission.

Captain Munro’s voice cut through the comms. “Shooter in position. Taking the shot.”

A single suppressed crack split the air.

Time stretched.

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