He made his way toward the suspension cables. The crowd emitted a hushed burble of voices, eyes down, everyone too aware of the approaching curfew to relax. Then shouts came from behind. Red fought his way forward, the need for stealth gone. He yelled and kicked, used his elbows and hands to force a way though. The cable entrance—a six-foot-tall steel box with a line of sharp points running across the top—grew before him.