A man in a pinstriped suit steps closer to the security gate. Forgetting about the crying child, Lips moves to block him, but Wolf waves a hand to indicate that it’s okay.

The businessman’s voice is pitched low, but Parker is close enough to hear him. “Look, man, just tell me what you want and I’ll get it for you. You want money? I have nearly a thousand dollars on me, and I’ll give you even more if you let me go.”

Wolf tilts his head. “Money?” He lifts the megaphone and speaks into the mouthpiece. “You’re offering me money?”

Parker’s blood chills as Lips jabs Businessman in the ribs with his rifle. With a grunt, he steps back and raises his hands. Only now does he look uncertain.

“You think this is about money?” Wolf’s voice is a lash. “You think that if you have money you get to call the shots, and the rest of the people here”—he waves his rifle so that it takes in the whole crowd—“they can just die, for all you care?”

“I’m s-s-sorry,” Businessman stutters.

Wolf is just getting started. “You are what America has become. A place where money is the only thing that matters. But you’re going to help this country wake up to what’s really important. If they think it’s acceptable to leave people dead or dying, or to abandon them in their hour of need—wait until it’s broadcast right in front of their eyes. We’re going to make it so they won’t be able to look away. This is going to be the world’s best reality show. Broadcast live.” His grin is full of menace.

Wolf’s gaze takes in all of them. “In less than an hour, you’ll all be the lead story on CNN. Tomorrow, you’ll be on the front page of every newspaper. In a few days, you’ll be on the cover of People.” He nods as if they should be pleased. “And how you behave yourself will dictate whether there’s a black box around your story, or whether you can give interviews later as a survivor. If our demands are met, we will release you. Until then, you need to stay calm and not panic. No one will be hurt if you do what we say.”

Parker thinks that’s a lot of ifs, but he keeps his face impassive.

Wolf nods at Lips, who goes over to a janitor’s cart parked next to a bench in the center of the hall. On top are two bundles of stiff white plastic cords.

“Now you’re going to zip tie each other’s hands in front,” Wolf says. “Anyone over the age of five. One loop around each wrist, and make sure both wrists are hooked together. And if you don’t do a good job, both of you will die.”