Cut and Run 4 - Divide and Conquer

adults per ten kids,
    which is normally fine,” the man answered, starting to ramble.
    The reporter cut in. “So you ordered the evacuation of the
    facility.”
    Divide & Conquer | 39

    “Security did,” he said, starting to look a little nervous. “We did it
    as fast as we could.”
    The video cut back to the outside of the aquarium and Andrea.
    “WBAL News arrived just as the children were being escorted from the
    building and, we are told, right after the first police car arrived.”
    The picture changed to a well-lit nighttime scene of the front
    expanse of concrete along the harbor. For a few seconds, children
    rambled out through the doors, some skipping and singing, some
    jogging, others dragging along as the proctors tried to shoo them
    directly away from the front door. A voice-over started.
    Two squad cars sat parked at the curb, blue lights flashing, but the
    uniformed policemen were fifty yards up the pier toward the museum,
    moving the children away from the building. At the same time, the
    rumble of an engine covered the chatter of children‟s voices.
    “As we filmed, several off-duty officers arrived on the scene.”
    The footage shook and swung around to a man sprinting toward
    the aquarium through the jumble of concrete and carefully manicured
    shrubbery between buildings. He leapt over a barrier, using his hand to
    support him as he literally ran sideways against the wall beside him and
    then hopped down again, running full-tilt toward the aquarium
    entrance, jumping over low barriers and concrete planters instead of
    going around them. The badge hanging from his neck was easy to make
    out as it bounced around, glinting in the various lights of the harbor.
    “Over there!” a crew member shouted and the camera swung
    again. A cobalt blue motorcycle tore up Pier 3 from Pratt Street to the
    brick and concrete courtyard and skidded to a stop next to a lamppost.
    The man‟s helmet hit the concrete as he yanked it off in his hurry to get
    off the bike, and the camera zoomed in on a badge hooked onto his
    waistband before panning to the right to follow him as he ran.
    More plainclothes policemen began to arrive, most on foot from
    the parking lots, and the camera jumped from one to the other, going
    back to the two who had arrived in such spectacular fashion as they met
    for mere seconds in the center of the courtyard with a few other
    policemen and then hurried to the aquarium entrance. The footage
    40 | Madeleine Urban & Abigail Roux

    remained on the front door for a moment before it was kicked open and
    an off-duty came out carrying a child under each arm.
    “With the help of the officers, the evacuation finished quickly.
    We are told that the news spread through word of mouth and police
    radios, though officers are not required to leave their radios on if they
    are not on call.”
    “The bomb squad arrived as the evacuation finished and, after
    searching the building, declared it a false alarm. Despite this, parents
    and officers are angry that such a threat was made.” The camera
    zoomed in on two men—the motorcycle rider and the parkour runner—
    as they exited the aquarium, looking distinctly displeased. The runner
    started to shrug into his jacket he‟d shed earlier, but the rider stopped
    him long enough to reach out and fix a twisted strap on his shoulder
    holster.
    The video quick-changed to the camera and reporter converging
    on that man who‟d run onto the scene: he wore a brown leather jacket,
    Converse sneakers, and a deep frown on his heart-shaped face, along
    with more than a five o‟clock shadow.
    “Excuse me, sir! WBAL 11 TV. Did you run here, sir? How far
    did you come?”
    The man looked like he was going to move to avoid the camera,
    putting his shoulder toward it and giving the lens a wary look. Then he
    looked to his companion, whose dark hair was still mussed from the
    motorcycle helmet he‟d discarded. They shared a shrug.
    “Can you tell us what agency you work for and why you‟re
    here?” the reporter persisted from off-screen, the microphone shoved
    toward him.
    The runner sighed heavily and met the reporter‟s eyes. He was
    still out of breath when he spoke. “I‟m a special agent with the Federal
    Bureau of Investigation. My partner and I heard the call over the radio
    and came to help.” His words had finality to them, as if that was all he
    was going to say. He started to turn away.
    “Is this threat linked to the others? What does Baltimore