American comics: I am full of martial virtues and I love to be kind to others.

"What are the specific arrangements?"

“Public visits have been ‘postponed’,” Reynolds explained. “The official explanation is technical issues. Only essential officials, museum staff, and our plainclothes agents will actually attend the opening ceremony. The total number will be limited to under one hundred, sixty of whom are our people.”

"Do these officials know the truth?"

“The mayor and the security chief know that others only know there are ‘security concerns,’ not the specific threat,” Reynolds said. “This ensures their reactions appear natural and don’t arouse Sanders’ suspicion.”

Lynn nodded and turned to the technical team: "Security preparations for the museum?"

A young technician wearing glasses stood up: “We’ve installed additional surveillance cameras in the museum, covering every corner—the entrance, exhibition halls, corridors, restrooms, storage rooms, and basement. Equipped with the latest facial recognition system, Sanders’ photo has been entered into the database.”

“But he’s good at disguising himself,” Sarah cautioned, “facial recognition might not be enough.”

“We’ve taken that into account,” the technician said. “In addition to facial recognition, we’ve also implemented a gait analysis system. Everyone walks uniquely, and even if you change your appearance, it’s difficult to completely alter your gait. We have Sanders’ gait data from surveillance footage, and the system will compare it to everyone entering the museum.”

“What about bomb detection?” Lynn asked.

“Three specially trained bomb-detection dogs have been deployed,” said an expert from the bomb squad. “They will thoroughly search the entire building before it opens. In addition, each entrance is equipped with state-of-the-art explosive and metal detectors.”

"X-ray scan?"

"Yes. All packages, backpacks, and suitcases must go through X-ray inspection. Furthermore, we stipulate that participants may only bring small handbags; large luggage is not permitted."

Lynn mentally reviewed the entire security plan. It seemed comprehensive, but he knew Sanders was no ordinary criminal. This man had successfully planned and executed seven bombings, each demonstrating meticulous planning and attention to detail.

“Not enough,” Lynn suddenly said.

Everyone looked at him.

“Sanders knew we’d be increasing security,” Lynn said, walking to the museum floor plan on the wall. “He’s anticipated metal detectors, bomb-detection dogs, and X-ray scans. He’s not going to be foolish enough to walk in through the front door with a bomb.”

“What will he do?” Reynolds asked.

Lynn stared at the floor plan, his mind racing. If he were Sanders, what would he do if he wanted to plant a bomb in a heavily guarded museum?
“It was placed in advance,” Lynn said. “He won’t bring the bomb in today; he’s already put it inside.”

"But our bomb-detection dogs will find—"

“Unless the bomb is well hidden and sealed,” Lynn interrupted, “or placed where the detection dogs can’t reach it.”

His finger moved across the floor plan, pointing to several areas: "Ventilation ducts, ceiling cavities, underground pipes, inside the walls—these are all places where bombs could be hidden, and they're not easy to spot."

“The museum is under renovation,” Sarah said abruptly, glancing at her notebook. “According to my research, they’ve been renovating the exhibition halls for the past two weeks.”

Lynn and Reynolds exchanged a glance.

“Renovations mean frequent worker comings and goings, means walls being opened, and means relatively lax security,” Lynn said. “That’s the perfect opportunity to plant a bomb.”

“I immediately contacted the museum and asked for a list of all the workers who had come and gone in the past two weeks,” Reynolds said, taking out his phone.

“We also need the renovation company’s records, daily work photos, and attendance sheets,” Lynn added. “Sanders may have disguised himself as a worker or contractor, repeatedly entering the museum to plant bombs under the cover of renovations.”

Twenty minutes later, the museum's records were faxed over. Lynn and her team began to carefully examine every name and every photograph.

“Here,” an agent pointed to a sign-in sheet, “an electrician named ‘Mike Thompson’ came five times in the past two weeks, staying for several hours each time. But the renovation company says they haven’t sent an electrician with that name.”

“The photos,” Lynn said immediately.

The agents retrieved screenshots from security footage. The footage showed a man wearing a yellow hard hat and overalls, carrying a tool bag. He had his head down, and most of his face was obscured by the brim of his hard hat and a mask, but he was clearly a white male of medium build.

“Compare this to Sanders’ photo,” Lynn said.

Technicians quickly operated the software to analyze the facial structure, body proportions, and ear shape of the two photos—features that are difficult to change even with makeup.

“An 87% match,” the technician said. “Considering the photo quality and occlusion, this 'Mike Thompson' is very likely Sanders.”

"Which areas of the museum did he enter?" Lynn asked.

The agent reviewed the logs: "First, the basement's electrical system. Second, the lighting in the third-floor exhibition hall. Third, the second-floor ventilation system. The fourth and fifth times, also 'repairs' were done in different areas."

“He’s setting up multiple detonation points,” Lynn said, a chill running down his spine. “Not just one bomb, but multiple, scattered throughout the building.”

“Why?” Sarah asked.

“To ensure the building collapses,” the bomb expert said gravely, “it’s strategically placed at critical points in the load-bearing structure and detonated simultaneously, causing the entire building to crumble within seconds. This is a technique commonly used by terrorists.”

Silence fell over the room. Everyone realized the gravity of the threat. This was not a simple explosion, but a meticulously planned building destruction operation.

“We need to find these bombs immediately,” Lynn said, breaking the silence. “Based on Mike Thompson’s work records, pinpoint all the areas he’s been to and concentrate the search there.”

“Arrange it immediately,” Reynolds said.

“Also,” Lynn continued, “Sanders will be at the museum today.”

“How do you know?”

“Because he needs to detonate the bomb,” Lynn said. “The timer isn’t precise enough, and if we find the bomb beforehand, his plan will fail. He’ll come himself, with a remote detonator, and detonate it at what he deems the most opportune moment.”

“So our second task is to identify him in the crowd,” Sarah said.

“Yes. And it has to be before he detonates it,” Lynn said. “That means we need to be very vigilant. He can disguise himself—he could be a visitor, he could be a staff member, he could be anyone.”

At nine o'clock in the morning, the first search team entered the museum. Bomb detection dogs, led by their handlers, carefully searched the route taken by "Mike Thompson." Technicians, equipped with various detection devices, scanned the walls, floors, and ceilings. Lynn also arrived at the scene. Despite the doctor's strong objections and his far from full recovery, he had to be present in person. This was his case, his responsibility, and he couldn't hand it over to someone else.

The New York Historical Society Museum, a magnificent neoclassical building constructed in 1908, boasts towering colonnades and opulent interior decorations. At this moment, this cultural sanctuary, usually teeming with tourists and scholars, transforms into a tense battleground.

"First one found in the basement," the voice came over the radio. "The bomb detection dog is alerting from behind the electrical cabinet in the power room."

"Don't touch it!" Lynn ordered immediately. "Mark the location and wait for the bomb disposal experts to arrive."

He hurried toward the basement, Sarah close behind. Each step down the stairs caused pain in his ribs, but he gritted his teeth and persevered.

The basement was dark, illuminated only by a few dim light bulbs. The air reeked of mildew and engine oil. A German Shepherd sat in front of a large electrical control panel, its tail wagging—a signal that it had spotted its target.

Wearing heavy protective suits, the bomb experts carefully opened the electrical control cabinet. Behind a tangled mess of cables, they found a small black box, about the size of a paperback book, connected by a complex network of wires.

“This is a professional-grade device,” the expert said over the walkie-talkie. “C4 explosives, about two pounds. There’s a timer, but it hasn’t been activated yet. There’s also a wireless receiver for remote detonation.”

"Can it be demolished?" Lynn asked.

"Yes, but it will take time. This device has an anti-tampering mechanism; improper operation will detonate it immediately. I need at least thirty minutes."

“Get to work,” Lynn said, then turned to the others, “Continue searching the other areas.”

There were a total of five bombs, strategically positioned at key structural points of the building. If detonated simultaneously, the resulting shockwave and structural damage would be enough to collapse the entire building.

“This bastard wanted to raze the entire museum to the ground,” Reynolds said after reviewing the bomb distribution map. “He didn’t just want to kill the people inside; he wanted to destroy the building, destroy this ‘symbol of history.’”

“He wanted to create a new historical event,” Lynn said, “a tragedy that would be remembered forever, to prove his theory—that history repeats itself.”

The bomb disposal team is working intensely, but progress is slow. Each bomb is extremely sophisticated, and its removal requires extreme caution.

By 11:30 a.m., only two of the five bombs had been defused.

“We need more time,” the bomb expert said. “These devices are too complex and have a chain reaction mechanism. If we make a mistake, it could trigger a chain reaction.”

Lynn glanced at her watch. There were still two and a half hours until the event started.

“Keep working, but quickly,” he said. “We don’t have much time.”

He turned to Sarah: “Assuming we can’t defuse all the bombs before the event starts, we need to make sure we catch Sanders before he detonates them.”

“This means we have to accurately identify him in the crowd,” Sarah said, “but he can disguise himself.”

“Yes,” Lynn agreed, “but he will also need to be near a location, a location that can ensure a successful detonation and at the same time observe the results.”

Lynn studied the museum floor plan again, pondering where he would choose to stand if he were Sanders.

“The main exhibition hall,” Lynn said, pointing to the center of the floor plan, “is the main venue for the opening ceremony. All the important figures will be here. If I were Sanders, I would make sure I saw it all, saw those ‘arrogant elites’ destroyed by his ‘historical lessons.’”

"So he'll be blending into the crowd, inside the main exhibition hall?"

“Yes. And he’ll choose a location near the exit, so he can escape immediately after detonating it,” Lynn said. “These are some of those locations.”

He marked three areas on the floor plan, all located at the edge of the main exhibition hall, near the side or back entrance.

“Have our plainclothes agents closely monitor these areas,” Lynn said. “Be especially wary of anyone loitering in these locations.”

At 1 p.m., an hour before the event was to begin, the museum doors opened to the “participants.”

Lynn stood in a monitoring room on the second floor, in front of a dozen screens displaying real-time footage of every corner of the museum. Technicians sat in front of computers, running facial recognition and gait analysis software.

The first group of people entered—all museum staff, their identities verified. Then came officials: the mayor, two city council members, and the director of cultural affairs. Finally came the "special guests," who were mostly plainclothes FBI and NYPD agents.

Lynn carefully observed every face and every movement. How would Sanders disguise himself? An elderly person? A woman? A disabled person?
“Facial recognition did not match,” the technician reported. “No one entering does not match Sanders’ facial features.”

"What about gait analysis?"

“Without waiting,” the technician suddenly stopped, staring at one of the screens, “this person.”

The screen showed an elderly man who looked to be in his sixties, wearing a neat suit, glasses, gray hair, walking with a slight hunchback, and leaning on a cane.

"Gait analysis showed that although his walking speed and posture resembled those of an elderly person, his weight transfer patterns and stride rhythm matched Sanders' data by 72%."

“Is 72% high enough?” Sarah asked.

“Considering he’s deliberately altering his gait, the match is quite good,” the technician said. “And look at his cane—the way he uses it is unnatural, more like he’s performing than actually needing support.”

Lynn squinted, carefully observing the old man. Indeed, while he behaved much like an elderly visitor, something was amiss. His fingers were steady, without the trembling common in the elderly. His eyes were sharp, constantly scanning his surroundings, assessing the environment. Moreover, he was moving slowly but purposefully towards the spot Lynn had previously marked near the side door.

“It’s him,” Lynn said, his tone certain. “Notify all units, target confirmed. Disguise him as an elderly man, gray suit, cane. Don’t alert him, maintain distance and monitor him.”

"Received," came several voices over the radio.

Lynn stared at the "old man" on the screen, his heart racing. After so many days of tracking, so many clues and deductions, he had finally seen the killer face-to-face—though through a surveillance screen.

"How's the bomb disposal progressing?" Lynn asked.

"Five bombs, three defuse, two remain," the bomb expert reported over the radio. "Another forty minutes is expected." (End of Chapter)