They'll Call It Treason by Jordon Greene

on the need to secure the Congressman. The buzzing of passing doors receded from his awareness.
    This is not a drill , he thought .  This is real.

CHAPTER 14
    January 29 at 10:15 a.m. EST
    Atlanta, Georgia
     
    Jason sped the sedan through morning traffic. He and Ethan had suited up in Kevlar vests emblazoned with “F.B.I.” in large white letters across the front and back. Earpieces were secured in place.
    Ethan had alerted the Atlanta Field Office to the threat before they stormed out of the Detention Center. If they were not too late, they could secure the Congressman and sweep the area for the suspect. Jason threw the car's weight onto the front passenger wheel as he pulled onto Andrew Young International Boulevard.
    The Atlanta Police were already cordoning off the area and stopping traffic from entering or exiting. Jason screeched the sedan to a stop at the blockade. Ethan waved his badge out the window and the officer waved them through while holding back other traffic.
    They hurried by rows of immaculately landscaped shrubbery and small trees. The Omni high-rise hotel towered overhead. Jason caught sight of the World Congress Center ahead. Its glass and concrete structure jutted out toward the boulevard where more police cars sat. Jason mounted the curb, earning an ear-splitting metal-against-concrete screech from the sedan’s undercarriage. He brought the car to a stop next to several black SUVs and he and Ethan jumped out.
    “Agents Phelps and Shaw?” a man called to them by one of the SUVs. He was tall, dressed in a suit and tie. He jogged over to meet them, his thick brown hair refused to move even the slightest bit in the wind. The darkness of his tanned skin set off his pale icy blue eyes. He looked more like an actor or model than an Agent.
    “Special Agent Sean Abrams. We spoke on the phone.” They shook hands and exchanged the usual greetings.
    Ethan recognized Agent Abrams’ gruff voice from his phone conversation. He suddenly felt he recognized his face from somewhere too—that he had seen the man before.  “Have we met before?”  he ventured.
    “No, not that I’m aware of,” Abrams answered, more affably than when Ethan had spoken to him the day before. None of the man's frustration was present now. “So far we’ve closed off Andrew Young Boulevard between Marietta and Centennial Olympic—”
    “What about the Congressman?” Ethan asked, cutting him off.
    “We have two Agents in the Congress Center,” Abrams rebounded, “ready to secure the Congressman as soon as his speech is over. Police are stationed throughout the building. We also have several Agents scouting out the interior of the Phillips Arena and the closest surrounding buildings.”
    Abrams paused briefly, “Sorry for being so short with you on the phone yesterday. It just seemed awful far-fetched. On the phone, you asked where the most strategic sniper roost in the area would be. From what they are telling me, it would be somewhere in the Phillips Arena or the CNN Center.”  He pointed to the building across the street down at the edge of the police blockade. “I’ve got one team going through the CNN Center as we speak, and another three in the Arena, since it’s closer.  It seems to be the more likely choice.”
    The more likely choice, thought Ethan . That can’t be it.
    Looking from building to building, Ethan took in his surroundings. Some of the buildings were tall and covered in glass.  Others squatted low, layered in concrete.  He noted the direction of the wind.
    Where would I take the shot?
    Ethan’s eyes darted to Jason “The CNN Center. That’s where I’d take the shot” It was a gut feeling, assuming the shooter knew what he was doing. It could be either of the closer buildings, but the glass stretching from one end of the building to the other struck him. Jason agreed without hesitation, and they took off at a jog to the CNN Center with Abrams on their heels. They had only minutes before the