Workmen foisted vertical posts into metal holes. Carpenters attached horizontal planks, tightening nuts and bolts. Stewards alerted those within earshot that the intersection would close. Runners streamed through the partitions, hurrying to their intended locations. Police waved with neon green gloves, ushering them inside the barricades. Hunt rested against the thick pinewood and ran his hand against the grain.

“You’re sure?” He said.

“I had to tell you,” Maria replied.