Sign of the Maker (Boston Crime Thriller Book 4), Brian Shea [free reads .txt] 📗

A train came and went from Harvard every six to ten minutes. From there, getting to Braintree took approximately thirty-five minutes. He shared the screen with Langston. The bulge of the older FBI agent's gut bumped against Kelly as he leaned in to examine it.

"With everyone stretched thin, there's absolutely no way we'd be able to mobilize enough units to cover the threat. Way too many opportunities for exposure to cover with the manpower we've got left. Mutual aid was a good idea. Hopefully, some of the locals can get eyes on McLaughlin and keep him from making his exit trip out of the city."

"The only other option is to shut down the Red Line completely."

"I can make a call on that." Langston scowled. "I'm not sure that's even a remote possibility with the time constraint we're under. Shutting down mass transit is no easy task. That takes people above my paygrade. And time." Langston checked his watch. "And time is something we have very little of at the moment.”

McLaughlin was already ten minutes into a planned thirty-minute speech. Kelly was at headquarters downtown, and he needed to navigate the congested city streets over to Cambridge. Even with lights and sirens, the likelihood of making it in time was slim, closer to none.

"Let me try his security guy." Langston retrieved his cell, this time forgoing his earlier death grip. "It went to voicemail." Langston paused for a moment while he listened to the message before leaving his. "Hodges, this is Agent Langston from the FBI. We need you to call us back immediately. Do not let your boss leave that venue. Do not let him get back on that train. Call me back as soon as you get this."

"We'll see if we can get a couple of marked units down there and try to get eyes on him before we get there." Kelly walked into Halstead's office.

"What've you got?"

"McLaughlin is at some campaign speaking engagement at Harvard. We're going to need some units on scene ASAP."

"On it. Anything else?"

"Langston and I are going to try to shoot over. The bigger problem comes if he leaves. McLaughlin's planning to leave via the T. He's going to be taking the Red Line from Harvard all the way out to Braintree."

Halstead immediately recognized the problem. "I'll put in the call but—"

"I know, it's no easy task shutting down the metro. If the Harvard venue is the target location, then I'm guessing we're already too late. But if not, then all things point to the train. And that's a bad place to detonate a bomb."

"Then there's no time to waste."

Langston answered his phone. "What do you mean he ended it early?" A second later the call was over and his voice conveyed the concern on his face. "The bigger problem just presented itself. That was his secretary. She called to advise me that McLaughlin decided to change his schedule just a bit and is headed to the T now. "

"There's no way the Boston PD and all the metro units could cover those stops and clear each train and platform. We're already stretched thin with the four bombing scenes. Manpower is at a minimum."

"I'm placing the call now, but I guarantee there's no way we can shut it down before he gets on that train." Halstead cradled his desk phone's receiver in the crook of his neck and dialed the extension for Superintendent Acevedo.

Langston called Hodges again. This time he was able to make contact. Kelly heard only one side of the conversation. "If you don't get your boss to stay put, then the blood of any person who dies as a result will be laid squarely at your feet. We're on our way. Have him hold tight." Langston hung up.

"What'd he say?"

"He said he'll do his best," Langston huffed.

"I hope that's good enough."

Kelly and Langston departed Halstead's office and headed for the door.

26

Blood on my hands, my ass, Clayton Hodges thought as he hung up the phone with FBI Special Agent Langston, who just basically accused him of some level of malfeasance, or lack of foresight, in trying to protect his principal. The agent couldn’t be more wrong. Hodges really hadn’t wanted the job as head of security for the up-and-coming politician whose long-term sights were set on seating himself in the Oval Office someday. He hadn’t picked it for that reason. No, Hodges chose his current position because of a girl. He had landed the job opportunity because of her, and there was no way he could say no.

His fiancée had begged him to leave the military. And he did—not wholeheartedly, but he did it nonetheless. Hodges had left his Marine Corps brothers and his Force Recon battalion behind him. Lyndsey had come into his life like a tornado, and he'd been completely swept up by her. It was a classic tale, timeless and cliché, the hardened soldier falling in love with the general's daughter. He knew how it looked from the outside and had taken the barrage of not-so-supportive advice from his friends and fellow Marines. They warned it was all just the excitement of their taboo relationship and blasted him when he said he was leaving the Corps. Hodges didn't listen to the naysayers, because he knew then, as he still did now, Lyndsey was no passing fancy.

Her rationale for her request was based on her upbringing. Being a military brat, bouncing around the world while her father rose through the ranks, missing nearly every birthday and special event of her young life, had solidified her stance. She vowed never to marry somebody currently serving in the military.

Lyndsey had initially followed in her father's footsteps, graduating from the Naval Academy and then taking her commission into the Marine Corps upon graduation. She served her four years of military obligation honorably. After completing her service, Lyndsey found her true calling and had gotten herself into the politics game. She'd worked for a senator for several years as